i dunno if anyone other than me needs to hear this but your stuffed animals love you!
even if they don't sleep in bed with you every night! even if you don't play with them very often! even if they fall on the floor, or you squish them accidentally! even if you forget them in your bag overnight!
they all love you even if you've been spending a lot of time with one specific one and not as much with them! they know that different stuffies help bring you different comfort and they love you and love when you feel happy and safe!
your stuffed animals are your friends and they feel loved by you and they love you too :)
imagine you're sitting on your crush's lap, turned toward her so you can rest your head on her shoulder, eyes closed. her breath tickles your ear as she talks quietly into it.
her voice is pretty and warm and familiar... meaning it is incredibly easy to get lost in. you tune back into her words, mentally scrambling to catch up with the video game lore she's been infodumping about for an hour straight. it goes without saying that you love every second of it.
as she continues talking, you notice that every so often, she pauses and moves away from your ear. at first, you're not sure why. but her body eventually gives her away.
there's a low sound in her chest like a strained gurgle -- gas shifting and rising inside of her. you hear it go all the way up her throat, and an airy, full burp is released (try as she might to stifle it).
your heart skips a beat. because fuck, she's so cute. and she's trying really hard to be polite. the meal she just ate -- and your weight against her belly -- probably aren't helping matters. for her, at least. it's helping you just fine.
"you okay?" you ask, innocently.
"yeah." swallows back another burp. "just. very full of pasta."
you almost sigh. does she really have to accidentally say the exact hottest thing to say in every scenario? you're trying to be decent, here.
"ah," you say. "continue, then. how many Snakes are we at, now?"
"well. at least 6 if you count Rai/den, but that's debatable. see, the thing is-" her speech is abruptly interrupted by the burp that launches itself out of her. it's loud, crisp, and right next to your ear. it immediately has you throbbing, which is embarrassing. has you throbbing even harder when she whispers, "you're welcome" into your ear. it takes everything inside of you not to just run off to the restroom or your bedroom and "relieve" yourself.
"th-thank you." you say it before you even think about it.
"want another one?" she asks. you don't have to look at her to hear the smirk in her voice.
"yes." it's barely audible, but you know she hears it. she spares you the indignity of having to repeat yourself.
instead, she replies, "too bad. i don't have any in the tank right now. you'll have to wait."
you whine. "don't say that because i'm not gonna be able to concentrate on what you're saying. i'll just be... waiting."
"you already can't concentrate since you're so enchanted by my voice. what's one more obstacle?"
"but i actually want to retain what you're saying. i don't want it in one ear and out the other."
she thinks for a moment, then, "how about this? if, by the end of my spiel, if you can summarize it well enough back to me -- albeit in a very abridged way -- then... i'll give you a treat."
your ears perk up. you like treats.
"like... what?"
"like..." she grabs your chin and moves you off of her shoulder. you open your eyes and comply, even if the absence of her warmth on your cheek is a bummer.
she begins rubbing small, gentle circles into her stomach with one hand, and another stifled burp makes her chest jump. she pointedly blows it away from you, and you only just manage to stop yourself from whining more.
"if you're a good girl and can summarize The Lore back to me when i finish, you can give me a belly rub."
shit. your hands on her? feeling how firm her belly is from the meal... maybe jiggling the softer parts of her stomach. holding up the bottom of her belly and letting it drop into her lap. kissing her tummy and sneaking your tongue in her belly button...
okay, perhaps your mind has strayed away from the reward she actually offered. but a girl can dream, right?
"i'm locked in," you say. you've never been more locked in.
because there's no way you're missing out on this prize.
i just think its crazy that ppl are writing book after book after book about men playing sports and fucking and not ONE of them mentions sniffing pits............this is what a lack of lived experience gets u in fiction ://///
Imagine you're at a bar with me and a few of our friends. There's an event going on, and the music is blaring. That, along with the din of several conversations happening at once, means it's much too loud for comfort inside. So, after we grab our drinks, we move to the patio and grab a seat. You sit beside me. Because of course you do.
The music can still be heard from out here, but the sound has been dulled, softened. We can actually hear each other talk, so that's enough for us. One of our friends strikes up a conversation, and the rest join in.
As they chat away, I notice that you're uncharacteristically silent tonight. You can be quiet at times, sure, but not this quiet. I glance at you from the corner of my eye while sipping from my Rum and Coke, half-concerned, half-curious.
To my amusement, I realize you're doing the same. Stealing glances when you can, as if you can get away without me noticing. I suppress a smile.
I don't blame you. The shirt I'm wearing isn't tight exactly, but it's a close fit. The neckline is low enough to give just a peek of cleavage, and the outline of my breasts is obvious.
But I know you. I know that's not what's caught your attention.
The curve of my belly ends where it sits heavily on my lap. My free hand is resting on it, hoping in vain that the touch will somehow relieve the fullness left from the big meal I had earlier. Well, that and the carbonation of my drink.
As if on cue, I feel air creep up my chest, up my throat. There's an accompanying gurgle that's barely audible. Not quiet enough for you to miss, though. I can practically see your ears perk up.
Such a cutie. I think you deserve a treat.
Without a word, I move your chin so that you're facing me. You're caught off guard by the suddenness, yes, but also by the intimacy of the gesture. You start sputtering, asking what I'm doing, and I can feel your cheek heat up as I place my palm on it.
Instead of responding, I let my kiss be an answer. Your mouth moves hesitantly, and I can probably guess what you're thinking right now.
Is this really happening? They're kissing me? In front of our friends?
You've never been one for PDA, have you? And yet, as I press further into you, slipping my tongue between your lips, you can't bring yourself to pull away. Instead, your mouth opens to me, and your hands grab at my waist to pull me closer. I can't stop myself from smiling this time.
I let you get into it. Really into it. It's probably not appropriate to be full on making out in front of our friends, huh? If they mind, I can't tell. The only one I'm focused on right now is you. I want to make sure you feel real good.
And I think I know how.
The belch that launches out of me and into your mouth is rumbly and deep. I feel you tense up in response. The burp tastes vaguely of coke but, surprisingly, it tastes most like the dumplings I had earlier. I guess I don't mind sharing my dinner with you.
You haven't pulled away yet, and the next hiccup-burp catches us both off-guard. Whoops.
There's still air in my chest, and I let out one last short, harsh burp into the kiss. My stomach, while still full, feels like it's deflated a little.
I pull away and say, "That's better." I sigh, genuinely relieved. And then I smile because, wow, your eyes are like saucers right now. I look at our friends -- practically at the same time that your head swivels around to do the same -- and they're too stunned to comment.
"Sorry about that," I say to them. I assume I don't owe you an apology, my little burp receptacle.
When conversation amongst our friends awkwardly resumes, you're still dead silent. Only, this time, I know why. You're not paying attention to what anyone else is talking about; you're replaying those burps in your head over and over, committing them to memory. Maybe you're even fantasizing about experiencing it again already. Imagining what it would be like to grab my belly instead of my waist, the way you really want to.
