spiritual sequel to this ficlet, ft. lilia not ship
~ 🐉 ~
"Please excuse me... I must..." Malleus did not finish his sentence. He had already risen from his seat, levitated into the air, and sped for the exit, where he burst out into the chill winter air.
The cold helped him some. His insides were hot, terribly hot, and a feverish feeling was spreading to his head and extremities.
Years ago, Malleus might not have known what was wrong with him, or might have mistaken it for his atmospheric magic going out of control. Back then, he ate only foods curated carefully by royal chefs for a dragon's appetite. Today, his cafeteria lunch had been spectacularly greasy.
Amidst the sunlight glaring off the snow, he had put no thought into where he was fleeing, and found himself once more on the grounds of Ramshackle Dorm. He braced himself against a tree, placing a hand on his stomach. The cloth covering his abdomen simmered with heat, so strong he had to tell himself not to whip his hand away.
Dragon fire.
Malleus enjoyed breathing fire, when he chose to do it.
Now, it was if his body registered that he was no longer on highest alarm; his digestive system took back control of its workings after ceding to his racing nerves, and produced from Malleus a ribbon of fire, in one great belch.
He couldn't stop it. It seared up his tongue, forcing his jaw open, flowing from him in a deluge of viridian flame.
It tasted different from usual, not unlike the food he had eaten.
Forlornly, he thought of how other creatures could enjoy a large belch after a greasy meal. The snow before him had melted in a vast streak of exposed dead grass, and his next breath brought a puff of aromatic smoke out through his nostrils. His belly, his throat still panged with residual heat.
There came a tapping on his back, and he turned around, much quicker than he usually would, nerves not quite settled from the stress of a veritable bomb in his stomach.
It was Lilia.
"Hello," Malleus grumbled.
"Your classmates insisted I check up on you!" Lilia was smiling. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I am feeling fine," he replied.
"Good," Lilia said, patting his back again. "You did fly out in quite a hurry."
Malleus let himself be guided back towards the building. "I could not very well open my mouth to tell you it was just gas," he said bitterly.
"True enough," said Lilia. "It's more than just gas in a dragon's tummy, though, isn't it?"
Lilia was clearly trying to comfort Malleus, and Malleus let himself be swayed by his words. "You're right," he mumbled.
"It's no fun, huh, Malleus? Good job making it all the way out here." His voice had morphed fully into a parental coo. "Next time, though, you needn't run so far."
Malleus grunted noncommittally. He had not considered it in the literal heat of the moment, but Ramshackle Dorm had charmed him so long, it had begun to feel like somewhere safe. "When we get back," he said, "I'd like a tall glass of ice water."
Lilia hummed in agreement. "I've heard they've even got ice cream on sale today for dessert."
Malleus' eyes went wide. "I am interested," he said, as coolly as he could.
AHEM . Hello belle bbu nation!! i am currently very high on melatonin and not thinking well so i decided to share my very bad belle yumeship fics here!! (that and also. a recent other situation) SO HERE ENJOY MY YURISLOP!!
if this gets like any likes really or maybe a comment i'll write a part two/sequel possibly
anyways heres some accompanying art by @spearmintseaslug!!
Jade's stomach jostled as Rook flew into his arms. "Good evening, mon trésor!" Rook cooed. "How was your day?"
Jade stumbled back a step, hiccuped taste of his meal blending with the woodsy smell of Rook. "It was lovely," he answered. "I returned from my hike just under two hours ago. I was a bit peckish, so I ordered some delivery, and ate here. I hope you don't mind."
"Is that so?" Rook separated from Jade, green eyes blinking as he glanced around the room. "I don't see any takeout containers."
"Oh, I ate them too."
Rook beamed. "That, I long to see!"
Jade bent to kiss Rook's cheek. "Have you taken supper yet yourself?"
Rook nodded. "I stopped at a most charming delicatessen with vast, clear windows... Oh, it was absolument splendide!"
"I'm quite, quite glad," Jade said, taking a thin breath in.
Something in Rook's gaze cooled. Rook was always devouring the world with his eyes, and Jade knew he had just gotten caught between his figurative teeth, as his giddy smile softened into something calmer, more predatory. "You really did eat a lot, didn't you, my love?"
"You see right through me," Jade said, fluidly stripping the glove off Rook's hand, and pulling him down onto the sofa by one warm palm. "I feel transparent as the day I hatched."
"If only you were," Rook purred. "Then I could see exactly how all that food fit inside you."
It was rare for Jade to become truly full. Rook, however, had the money to get Jade full. In hopes of harmlessly annoying Rook, Jade had eaten to his heart's content while Rook was not there to watch.
Rook was devilishly hard to annoy.
"Your voice sounds even more elegant weighed down by a hearty meal," he said, clasping Jade's hand in his bare one and leaping into his lap. "There's a special look in your eyes, too; it's... more sluggish; just a touch more latency—" He moved a finger in front of his face. "Mmm, you are irresistably beautiful!" He was cupping Jade's cheeks, leaning closer. "Just this sliver of vulnerability has transformed—"
He stopped.
He had pressed his weight forward, and Jade had burped, loud and deep, right into the inches between himself and Rook.
Rook's mascara-dark lashes fluttered.
His crotch, steadily, stiffened against Jade's.
"Oh, my," Jade said a mere few seconds later, as Rook pressed sharply into him. "I do beg your pardon. I'm terribly sorry for the interruption, but go on. You were calling me vulnerable, I believe?"
That belch had felt so good. Rook really had pressed it out of him; he had not meant to cut him off, but the bubble of delicious air had burst from the depths of his stomach. He now knew that the rare, prized feeling of true satisfaction was within his grasp, and knew exactly how to achieve it.
Rook's face had settled into a minxy smile, but a blush stained the whole picture pink.
He massaged Jade's lower belly with his naked hand; Jade could feel his body heat through his shirt. He kneaded up, up, over and over, until Jade felt the urge to belch once again.
The ends of Rook's hair were soft in Jade's fingertips. Rook was squirming unabashedly in Jade's lap.
Jade nibbled at Rook's ear, until a comfortable pressure rolled up his throat, and he pulled back, and belched.
Rook breathed in deeply through his nose, eyes falling shut, and Jade did not hold back his snicker. "If you want to learn what I ate," he chided, "I'd be happy to simply tell you."
Rook shook his head, then nuzzled right up against Jade's face, nose and lips bumping against one another.
Jade opened his lips to give another burp, which made Rook twitch in his lap. Rook shifted away, grinning deliriously, and Jade could feel his thigh and ass muscles clench and undulate on top of him.
With polite impoliteness, Jade continued burping until he felt no more immediate gas. "Pardon me," he finished.
Rook gave a tremulous sigh. "Digestion will come easier now."
"I believe so," Jade said, tilting his head slightly at Rook. "Why are you frowning?"
Rook's eyebrows, so often hidden beneath his bangs, shaded his eyes darkly. "Now that your body knows to start moving its internal burden," he said, "it will send a great rush of blood to the vicinity of your stomach. I am... jealous. I fiendishly desire your bloodflow elsewhere."
Lurid images flickered through Jade's head as he rested one hand on his belly. When Rook offered himself up so desperately, Jade was never one to decline. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said with a smile. "Could I trouble you to show me where else you mean? With your hands, if possible."
Rook pulled his other glove off. "It would be my honor," he said, and slipped his fingers between Jade's legs, palming his length.
A warm rush of sensation flowed through Jade's body, and he leaned forward to softly kiss Rook. "I would not worry about that," he said. "You always get what you want, and my body is no exception. Only—" He gripped Rook's backside, earning him a delicate gasp.
Jade chuckled. "Only, you're asking for something very vigorous. I have just eaten. My stomach might... interrupt in a most unsavory way, and I would hate to ruin the moment."
Rook had inched closer again while Jade spoke, removing his hand, pressing his pulsing bulge against him. He responded with only a maniacal giggle, and flung himself onto Jade once more.
tw for explicit kink discussion and mentioned emeto (it's in the fifth paragraph and u can skip it w/o missing much)
~ 💙 ~
"It's not just eating," Azul said, and a delicious note of pleading strained his voice. "I—I want—"
Jade watched him with studied patience, a smile on his face.
"Sexually, that is. I don't want it practically, on any terms."
"You've clarified as much, yes," replied Jade. "Though, if not merely eating, I struggle to imagine what it might be."
That wasn't true at all. Fantasies flashed through Jade's head of Azul's face smeared with food, Azul tied up and forced to eat off the floor, tears in Azul's eyes drying after a hearty vomit from too much to eat, then welling back up as a feeding tube plunged into his throat.
"I want to eat a lot," Azul clarified, taking off his glasses to wipe sweat from his brow. He crumpled up his handkerchief in his hand thereafter, gripping so hard his glove's stitches strained. "I want... I... This is so disgusting..."
"Take all the time you need," Jade said, folding his hands upon his lap. He would make Azul spit it all out.
"I wanna eat a way-too-big meal, and sit back, and do fuckall, and I wanna feel enormous, and I wanna unbuckle my pants, and belch, and scratch my stomach like a... like..." He trailed off. His voice had risen to a squeak.
Jade tucked a lock of hair behind Azul's ear. "Scratch your stomach like... a gentleman whose stomach itches?"
"No, you moron."
Jade giggled.
"Like a glutton," snapped Azul.
Jade leaned back, studying Azul. "I must say," he said, "when you said you had a humiliating sexual fantasy, I assumed it would be much different."
"How?" said Azul, looking up at Jade in shock.
Jade raised his eyebrows.
"You're right," Azul said, "I don't want to know. But what I described is incredibly humiliating. That's a fact."
Jade scratched his chin, then looked to Azul. "Facts and opinions are much the same thing, I agree."
"That's—Nnh—"
Jade had plucked a fallen hair off Azul's shoulder, coiled it around his finger, then placed both hands back on his lap. "What you described," he said, "sounds merely like a pleasant evening to me. To know one is safe, done with one's nightly responsibilities, and therefore free to eat one's fill... It sounds to me like a simple desire for satisfaction."
Azul sighed gruffly, replacing his glasses. "Do you not grasp the sexual aspect, Jade?"
Jade was a patient man. Jade did not need to pounce, not just yet. Azul, however, might as well have commanded him to.
In a flash, Jade flipped towards him, straddling his lap and looming over his face. He took a few luxurious seconds to adjust for the comfort of his knees, while relishing the touch of Azul's thighs underneath him. Then, he placed one hand on Azul's belly, and the other under his chin.
"I understand it perfectly," he said.
Azul mouthed a formless reply, but was silent.
"You want to become all that you dread, and still be lusted over." He found the softest part of Azul's belly, and kneaded it indulgently in his hand. Azul's muscles tensed, snatching back almost all of Jade's conquest. Jade persisted, playing with the layer of fat on top of the agonizingly built muscle, which earned him a strangled grunt from the back of Azul's throat.
"And you asked me," Jade said, "because you figured I might be willing to lust."
"Stop touching my stomach like that," Azul coughed out.
Jade nodded silently, shifted his hand to Azul's back, and began scoping out his love handles under his fingertips. "I must say I'm honored," he said breezily.
"We've done sexual things before!" Azul countered.
"Enough to warrant this confession?" Jade said, tilting his head, and making his voice sound as innocent as possible. "I must say, I didn't expect you to admit you wanted to belch on me until at least—"
"Jade, stop!"
Jade blinked. "Stop what?"
Azul grabbed Jade's tie, and yanked him forward. His lips caught Jade's in a messy kiss, and Jade felt his tie stuttering out of its clip, until it was free from his waistcoat and in Azul's hand, digging sweet pain into the back of his neck.
Jade took his time savoring Azul. Azul's tongue was quick and ticklish, and he let Azul play-fight while he gently traced the places where their lips met. He didn't bite Azul. This was a mere amuse-bouche; he could devour Azul later.
Jade's tongue reached the corner of Azul's mouth, and he fell still.
He had struck gold.
There was an infinitesimal nugget of taste and texture there—a tiny crumb from his supper was still stuck upon his skin.
Jade lapped it up, rolled it over his tongue, then gulped it down.
"The margherita pizza tonight was divine; wasn't it, my dear?"
Azul's eyes were wide; he wordlessly whipped his glasses back off and began to clean them with the end of Jade's tie.
Jade wanted to mock him for this reaction, but he could not let up. Azul had revealed his weak spot; it would be foolish not to dig his teeth in deeper.
"You had a wonderful time eating it, didn't you?" He twirled a lock of Azul's hair around his finger.
Azul said nothing.
"Hmmm, yes," said Jade, patting Azul's belly. "I know you felt wonderful with that thick cheese and gooey crust sitting inside you. I know your belly felt so full and happy."
A tremulous breath came from Azul. "That's... not actually true," he said.
"Oh?"
"I was still hungry after two slices, but curbed myself there."
Jade clucked his tongue, twisting his face into a pitying pout. Azul was sweating again, shimmering in the watery light. Every inch of his body was within Jade's clutches.
"That's quite sad," said Jade. "After all, every hardworking businessman deserves a full belly and an hour to sit back at the end of his work day."
"I..."
"You ought to indulge yourself just the way you like. Let's head to the school store; I'm sure they have enough microwave meals to fill you."
"No," Azul snapped.
"You wouldn't go? You trust me to go alone?"
"I can't do it tonight," he replied.
"Why not?" Jade said, and stared at him until he answered.
"This is moving far too fast," Azul said after a moment. "I only just brought the idea up to you; proper plans require time and thought."
"I agree," said Jade. He leaned in, breathing in the scent of Azul's breath, the press of his body. "Only, it seems you have put a great deal of thought into it already."
Azul said nothing, only squirmed in his seat.
With a silent sigh of pleasure, Jade gave in to his instincts. He took a bit of Azul's cheek between his teeth, and, softly, bit.
"As have I," he breathed.
A split second after the words had left his mouth, an involuntary gag followed. Azul had pulled his tie tight, choking him. Their hands met when both touched Jade's throat; Azul loosened the silk back out, and smoothed it down his chest.
Jade smiled as Azul tended to him.
"I did not mean to do that," he said. "I apologize."
He himself tucked his tie back into his waistcoat, and rose from Azul's lap. "I ought to go now," he said. "The school store will not be open for much longer. Try not to eat everything in the room while I'm gone, my glutton!"
Azul stared up at him from his seat. His suit was thoroughly rumpled; his face was flushed red; his lips were bright from Jade's kiss.
Jade's command was less that, and more a gentle invitation, accompanied by the tilt of the head and a mild, habitual smile.
Rook immediately knew what Jade wanted, and excitement coursed through him.
Jade's fingertips rested on his belly, and as Rook darted behind him, wrapping his arms around his front, his hands slid underneath Jade's own.
A delicate chuckle shook Jade's shoulders. "You knew what I was going to ask," he said.
Rook vented his delight with a deep purr into Jade's shoulder. "It was written all over your face," he confessed. "Your posture was practically a plea for me to come up, and guess what you've consumed."
"Only liquid so far," Jade said.
"Shh!" Rook said insistently. "I can tell." Beneath Jade's thin layer of fat, his belly was firmest near the top, yet still springy. He cringed slightly in Rook's embrace when Rook squished the cleft of his ribcage.
Rook could not restrain himself; he pressed a kiss to Jade's shoulder. Unaffected sensitivity from his polished and calculated lover was ever a treasure to behold.
Securing his palm around the slight swell of his stomach, Rook finalized his guesses. Two pints of a still liquid, or three cups of something with a commercial soda's level of effervescence. Based on the near-constant activity that rumbled and thrummed beneath his fingertips the deeper he squeezed, he strongly supposed the latter.
"May I ask if you've had anything carbonated?" Rook said into the silk of his collar.
"Not a drop," answered Jade.
A "Hmm" spilled out of Rook.
Gently at first, he kneaded Jade's belly, a thrill rushing through his veins when it began to gurgle and twitch in response, as if he, Rook, could produce a very sonata of Jade. Quite soon, he located a spot that was stiffer than it usually was, different from all the other times he had touched Jade.
Rook pressed it hard, and Jade whimpered.
Rook himself let out a coo, and a "Quel charme!", and all together, the sound that lurched from Jade's insides was almost drowned out.
Rook held his breath.
Jade's body made another sound, higher, in his esophagus; he was stifling something; yes, he was keeping it down—then Jade's entire posture shifted; nape straightening into Rook's brow, and Jade belched, low and pleasant and open.
Rook felt the vibrations come up through Jade's neck, and involuntarily pulled Jade closer to him.
"Pardon me," Jade said.
"Are you quite sure you've drunk nothing carbonated?" Rook asked.
Jade smiled, looking over his shoulder at Rook, and Rook could smell something fruity faint upon his lips. "Not sure, no," he said. "Perhaps I've forgotten one or two of the sips I've taken."
"Peach seltzer, two cans!" Rook squealed.
"Why," Jade said, grinning wide enough to expose his glistening teeth, "I believe you're exactly right! Thank you ever so much for refreshing my memory, my love."
jàcinthe x łebanne burp denial! ft some light belly ínflation
this one's a little longer than usual
~🤍~
Lebanne couldn't help herself. The tea was so warm, and the cookies were so good.
It started as a type of training, Jacinthe's allowing Lebanne to take tea with her. After all, according to Jacinthe, she had to learn how to hold a cup, how to sit in parlor chairs, how much eye contact to make, and how much of the conversation she ought to take up.
Jacinthe herself had admitted by now that sharing tea with Lebanne was a habit.
As Jacinthe talked about her latest tournament-hosting dreams, Lebanne let herself relish the spicy bite of a ginger snap, and wash it down with a warm mouthful of milky black tea. Staring dutifully at her lady, she felt her diaphragm ripple, and by the time she realized what she was doing, it was already too late.
A low belch rose up her throat and into her closed mouth. Jacinthe's eyes went wide.
"Lebanne?" she said, cutting herself off, "What was that?"
"Um, excuse me—"
Jacinthe's face spread into a characteristically malicious smile. She was standing up, rising above Lebanne, taking Lebanne's teacup out of her hands and setting it down on its saucer. "My, one simple 'excuse me' does not a crime erase," she said, curls cascading over her shoulders as she shook her head.
"Crime?" Lebanne burst out.
"Indeed," said Jacinthe, curtseying slightly to extend her hand to Lebanne. "I have told you countless times that in polite society, there are a number of 'do's and 'do not's. '"Do" show grace upon your inferiors' is of course one of the former." She covered her mouth with her free hand to giggle softly.
Fearing a worse scolding if she stayed seated, Lebanne took her hand, skin prickling. "Wh-what do you mean, Lady Jacinthe?" she said meekly.
"I am so glad you asked," Jacinthe said, guiding Lebanne to her feet. "I happen to have some time available. I shall use it to train you further."
"On not burping?" Lebanne could not help but to say.
"Exactement, ma chère! Follow me!"
Dutifully, Lebanne followed Jacinthe's graceful footsteps out the door.
Humming gently, Jacinthe retrieved a tall bottle of sparkling white grape juice from one of the hotel's penthouse kitchenettes, handing it to Lebanne to carry for her. She led her down the halls, past the wide intervals of doors to luxury suites, and into an executive wing. At the end of the hall, she opened a door that Lebanne had never been through before.
"Voilà," she cheered, "my soundproof room!"
Lebanne nearly dropped the bottle. "Why in the— Uh, why might we possibly have a room like this, Lady Jacinthe?"
"Oh, for all manner of reasons," Jacinthe answered. "Now, take a seat."
Lebanne obeyed, setting the bottle down atop the runner on a low coffee table.
The room was small, windowless, with two soft chairs facing the table, and a piano and music stand near the corner. The walls did not appear any different from the wood paneling common in Hotel Richissime's penthouse, but still felt off to Lebanne.
"Very good," Jacinthe said. "Now, it would not be honest for me to ask you to drink this juice in the manner of a lady—Any true elite would use a glass, and sip daintily—but I nevertheless expect you to be clean, sightly, and, most of all, silent."
"Huh?"
Still standing, Jacinthe withdrew a corkscrew from her satchel, and opened the bottle herself. It fizzed loudly, and the sound did not die down, as she lifted the bottle and drew it close to Lebanne's head. "Please open your mouth, Lebanne!"
"Huh?"
"Lebanne," Jacinthe said, swooping in so close she could smell her perfume, "you ought not be hoping I ask again."
In shocked silence, Lebanne let her lips open wide.
The glass was cool, and the smell of white grape juice fizzed through her head as Jacinthe immediately began to pour. This was just another crazy task Jacinthe was making her do, she thought to herself. Drinking some juice wasn't even the worst thing she'd done for this woman so far.
She took big, heavy swallows, the light carbonation prickling at her throat on the way down.
She felt pressure inside her abdomen almost immediately.
Eyes bulging in horror, Lebanne realized she was out of practice. She had spent years taking dainty sips from delicate cups, never once chugging anything. Jacinthe was smiling down at her, placid as could be, as bubbles streamed up through the juice that pressed down into Lebanne's mouth.
Jacinthe had the upper hand. There was nothing Lebanne could do but drink.
Her stomach screamed pitifully with pain; she was not even halfway done with the bottle. She let the liquid pour down her throat in weighty gulps, then paused to take a shaking breath through her nose.
Valiantly, she took another swig. The bloated feeling inside her was evening out into a dull thrum; she dearly hoped that meant her stomach was expanding to hold the liquid and carbonation the way she knew it could. Her next swallow came shallower, then smaller yet, and when she tried to take another, an involuntary "Mmrmk!" burst up from her throat instead.
"Lebanne!" Jacinthe snapped.
Lebanne blocked the juice flow with her tongue, and took another quavering breath. Jacinthe's hands looked so graceful around the bottle; her posture was impeccable as always. This torture was so easy for Jacinthe.
"Quiet sips, Lebanne," she said, face melting into a smile once again.
A few more breaths later, Lebanne's stomach gave a piteous growl, and she forced herself to drink once again.
Jacinthe's eyes fell to watch the juice splash and bubble as each gulp drained it into Lebanne. She looked ridiculously self-satisfied.
Lebanne squeezed her eyes shut, and drank until she was certain she could fit no more.
The cold bottle did not move. She could feel by the weight of liquid atop her tongue that there was not much left. Opening her eyes confirmed the fact. She hated the thought of quitting so close to the finish, almost as much as she hated the thought of getting juice all over her face if she did duck away now. Jacinthe stood perfectly still.
Lebanne adjusted her posture, scooching her hips a few inches forward so her stomach had more space to expand. After a few excruciatingly long seconds, she swallowed the last few mouthfuls.
Without so much as looking at Lebanne, Jacinthe removed the bottle from her mouth, and went to deposit it into a recycling basket in the corner of the room.
Lebanne wheezed. "Lady Jacinthe," she said, voice weak from the pressure on her lungs. "I can't believe—"
"Oh? Is that dissent I hear?" Jacinthe was dusting her gloves off.
"N-No." Lebanne could hear the bubbles in her throat. "I really can't burp?"
Jacinthe looked at her, and giggled. "Of course not! Follow me."
Lebanne did not want to stand, much less walk. Still, she rose, gulping hard to prevent herself from releasing the pressure inside her.
It felt more comfortable being upright, but exiting the soundproof room made her feel terribly exposed. Jacinthe chattered to her on the way back to the room where they had been having tea, whereupon she paused, and faced Lebanne, looking her up and down.
"You'll clean up the tea service, then meet me in my office in half an hour."
Lebanne's answer came whispered. "Yes, ma'am."
"You have done well," she said, and turned away.
Lebanne let the praise swirl around her head, just as the grape juice bubbles swirled around her belly, as Jacinthe stalked to the door, and left.
The second after, Lebanne braced herself on the back of a chair, taking big, ugly breaths through her mouth, as if exhaling the scent of grape juice could help.
Squeezing her stomach muscles, she put a hand on her belly, staring in overfull disgust at the leftover food and tea.
She burped.
It was a little thing; it barely helped her bloating at all. "That can't be fuckin' it!" she barked out loud. Squishing her belly only hurt, eliciting a loud rumble as if in protest. "Fuck..." she moaned.
Dejectedly, she wondered if she would be just as miserable all day. She might as well start cleaning up now if so.
Just as she bent forward to begin stacking the dishes, a feeling of warmth traveled across her tongue.
Finally.
It began quietly, like a slow breeze moving up her throat. Still, she let herself pause there, body falling still and eyes falling shut, as the awful CO2 all escaped her.
She pressed her stomach with her hand, evenly, guiding the long belch out of herself, easing her stomach closer, closer, towards feeling normal once again.
It was far from her loudest belch; if she were someone else, she might snicker and offer a 'Weak!'. Lebanne didn't care. As the burp finished, she gave a noise that was part laugh, part moan, and muttered, "There we go!"
She grinned down at the tea set. "Take that, ya prissy dishes," she said, then laughed at herself again. This laugh agitated another belch out of her, more loud and round and shapely than the veritable deflation just seconds before, and she couldn't push the grin from her face. If Jacinthe were to step back through the door, or summon a hologram to stare at her, she almost would not care. She burped again as she bent down to pick up the dishes, then again as she stacked them neatly up.
"And I'll stay the fuckin' queen, no matter how long I have this outfit on," she whispered to the teapot. "Betcha Jacinthe can't burp like that."
It was a strange emotion Deuce had felt, from when Epel first proposed the burping contest, until now, when his stomach was beginning to burn with the bubbles, and one glance at Epel's furrowed brow and lips' grip on the neck of his emptying soda bottle told him Epel was feeling the same way.
Competition came easy to both. A crude type of pride guaranteed it. Right now, however, it was only them in Deuce's room, and they were friends. There was something playfully secretive in Epel's request; he might later even decry his own tone as girly. The cracking open of bottles, the cheeky grins snuck between Deuce and Epel, did not feel like competition.
Now, Deuce's eyes watered. Any feelings of nerves, awkwardness, or excitement were gone from his mind. He briefly felt like shit, and he assumed Epel briefly felt like shit, too, and both of them powered on, as if the pressure in their stomachs were the burn of an intense workout.
Deuce's bottle ran dry. "I'm gonna beat your ass," he rasped, eagerly, faintly, proud that he had beaten Epel in chugging, then ashamed that he had dared to beat Epel at all.
"Imma beat your ass," Epel returned as he finished, settling Deuce's nerves at once, returning his attention to the pressure in his stomach.
Deuce's belch started surprisingly slow. A quiet rush of air poured out of him, but soon deepened, like he knew he was capable of, heavy and pressurized and loud.
He gripped his belly as he finished, thankful for the relief.
Epel cleared his throat.
Deuce belched again, a well-formed aftershock almost as loud as his first burp.
"If you're quite fuckin'—" Epel stopped himself, grinning, then gulped.
"I'm done," Deuce said, "for now."
Epel straightened, like a bird puffing out its feathers, but his neck was craned forward, and a fist pressed to his lips.
He removed his fist, made a little gurgling sound, then inhaled, patting his chest.
Watching Epel belch always felt like a guilty pleasure. Epel was so eager to be crass, when one got to know him. He was so beautiful, yet so wild, the way Deuce fought to restrain himself from behaving. He knew Epel so much better than he did many other friends, even friends he had known for longer.
The sound that growled out of Epel still shocked him. His lips parted in an oblong circle to release it, quivering a little whenever its pitch dipped, and halfway through, his eyes fell shut, in a gesture that could have been timidity or bravado.
"That was fuckin' amazing," Deuce said as Epel daintily coughed.
The unsure, half-competitive glint returned to Epel's eye. "Both of ours were good," he said, voice pitched up, the way he talked to strangers, to Vil.
"Alright, can't argue," Deuce said. "You—uh—sure you wanna settle for a draw, though?" His own voice was choppy, hesitant.
"Well, what—" Epel paused, blinked his long lashes, shrugged. "Whatever. It's obvious we both have skill."
"I really shouldn't be taking a burping contest seriously, anyway," said Deuce.
Epel, who had been patting his chest and frowning, at once smiled up at Deuce. "Hey, why not? We—We both wanted to do it." He coughed again, a little, gruff thing, and stood up. "I oughta stretch myself a bit; might help."
"I will too," Deuce blurted. The moment he stood, a low, soda-sour belch slipped out of him, and his stomach tingled in gratitude. "Oh! Didn't even need to."
Epel was frowning, raising his arms above his head, so his uniform waistcoat revealed his white shirt, and the thought flashed through Deuce's head of how he must look underneath, his fair skin, what he wore to keep his chest bound, whether lilac hairs filigreed the path up to his navel.
Deuce blinked hard, averting his eyes, and missed the moment when a sticky, gaseous belch issued out of Epel.
Epel grunted in unabashed satisfaction. "There it is."
Deuce looked back at him, and he was jutting his lips out, stretching his neck and cracking his fingers, reasserting a macho demeanor, for himself more than for Deuce.
I like you a lot, Deuce wanted to say, but kept his mouth sealed, letting his eyes linger on him a few extra seconds. "Thanks for the sodas, and for the idea," he said.
"Thanks for having me over," Epel replied.
Deuce laughed. "Thank my roommates for being away." He had already missed his chance to compliment Epel's burp, objectively disgusting though it was. Thanks for having me over was an alarming phrase for Epel to say, almost as if he wanted to leave.
"Next round's on me!" Deuce burst out. "Wanna—uh—right now? I can head to the vending machine."
Epel shot him a grin. "You bet!" he said. "Only if you don't mind me burpin' nonstop, though."
reader burps on their second date with còrbeau from pòkemon since im pretty sure i screamed out loud when i found out he could cook
~💜~
For your first date, Corbeau had insisted on taking you to a five-star restaurant. For your second, he planned to treat you to another, but you insisted otherwise.
You had yet to try his cooking, and bought the ingredients yourself out of some semblance of reciprocity.
Now, he sat across from you, delicately munching from a platter of sushi that had already halfway disappeared.
"This is so good," you told him, not for the first time that night, and reached for another piece. "Anyway, you were saying?"
Corbeau smiled at the compliment, and continued. "Yes. This project might interest you, actually. There's an alley in the Vert District that seems to gather dust much more quickly than the surrounding streets, and we suspect one or more Pokémon are the cause. We're sending some Syndicate members to investigate tomorrow, and after that, well... You know how it goes."
You nodded vigorously as you gulped down your bite. "I know the one you're talking about," you said. "It's not far from the Hotel. That'd be such a—" You paused. You had been so engrossed in your conversation, in the sushi itself, that you had not noticed a telltale lump of pressure building in your stomach. It had risen critically high up through the mishmash of rice, toppings, and fish therein, and was pushing itself higher still.
Within that split second, you did not meet Corbeau's eye. You knew him very well by now. It would not feel quite right to call yourself friends, but you were close with him before he first took you out. You could act familiar with him.
You burped, loud and rich, before your throat caught on your muttered 'excuse me,' and you stifled a cough into your arm.
"Fuck! You okay?" Corbeau was standing, practically diving across the table to thump your back with one hand, and feel your face with the other.
You nodded again, about to press his cool hand into your cheek, when his thumps dislodged another, longer, softer burp from you. It felt wonderful, but you could not focus on the decadent feeling of gas creeping out of your stomach, not when Corbeau's face had twisted into a frown of acute worry, when his jacket was dangerously close to the food, when he was speaking rapidly.
"Shit," he said, "I coulda sworn that fish was good; I gotta look more closely next time, maybe look into—"
You cleared your throat. "Corbeau, I'm fine!"
"Food poisoning is serious, don't just say that if—"
"I promise," you interrupted him. As slowly and calmly as you could manage, you took his wrist, and pressed a gentle kiss into his palm. "I'm not sick at all. On the contrary, I just ate too fast. Your sushi is too good."
His fingernails brushed down your cheek as he closed his hand. He cursed again, softer, shaking his head.
You grinned. "That burp was a happy sound, I promise. You haven't poisoned me yet."
"Don't scare me like that," he grumbled as he sat back down.
"Sorry," you said.
He gave a single laugh, and crossed one leg over the other. "Well," he said wryly, "I guess I can't blame you." He picked his chopsticks back up, clacking them hard against the platter, and snapped up another piece of sushi.
