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That's One Bloated Clown!

Summary:

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re currently watching your buddy, Gamzee Makara, gorge himself on sopor pies. He’s stoned out of his mind and he has a bit of slime around his mouth. You think it’s gross but Gamzee couldn’t give less of a shit.

aka gamzee gets stoned on pie and gets bloated from faygo and karkat likes it a lot

Notes:

this is porn for the sake of porn don't like don't read u know the drill enjoy :o)

Work Text:

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you’re currently watching your buddy, Gamzee Makara, gorge himself on sopor pies. He’s stoned out of his mind and he has a bit of slime around his mouth. You think it’s gross but Gamzee couldn’t give less of a shit.

You’re both on the worn-out sofa in Gamzee’s respiteblock. He’s reclined lazily with his feet propped up on the table in front of you both, and you’re sitting while leaning over to the side with your legs folded under you.

You had come over today since you wanted him to watch a movie with you, but the dumbass was too lazy to leave to go to your place. You instead settled to go to his place (albeit somewhat reluctantly). Something About Troll Mary was playing on the TV while you sat on the sofa together.

Gamzee sits up to reach for another pie, then takes it and lies back down. He has the pie tin resting on his stomach, scooping up handfuls and shoveling them in his mouth, not caring if he spills any on himself. You make a face at him.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LIKE THAT SHIT.” Your nose scrunches up and you cross your arms. “IT’S SO FUCKING GROSS.” You stick your tongue out for emphasis.

Gamzee giggles lazily in response and licks his fingers clean of the slime. “i DoNt EaT iT ‘cAuSe Of ThE tAsTe, KaRbRo.” He turns his head to look at you, a dazed expression plastered on his face. He’s smiling stupidly. “iT jUsT mAkEs Me FeEl ReAl GoOd. fEeLs… NiCe. KiNdA LiKe ‘M oN aNoThEr PlAnEt.” His voice is low and languid.

“WELL, I GUESS IF YOU LIKE IT IT DOESN’T MATTER. E-EVEN IF IT'S DISGUSTING.” Your cheeks flush a little with red. You think he looks and sounds kind of… cute right now. All dazed and lazy like this. You shake your head a little. No. He’s your best friend. You can’t be into him.

Gamzee smacks his lips and makes a face. “hEy KaRbRo, MiNd GrAbBiN mE a FaYgO? ‘m PaRcHeD… mOuTh’S sUpEr DrY.” He moves from his laying position so his back is against the sofa. He looks at you with what you think is a hopeful expression.

You sigh and roll your eyes at him. “FINE,” you say. “I’LL BRING A FEW BOTTLES SO I DON’T HAVE TO GET UP AGAIN.” You stand and walk to Gamzee’s thermal hull and to no surprise it’s absolutely stacked with Faygo. You think he has every flavor which you think is kind of impressive. You captchalogue five bottles for good measure and go back to the sofa, plopping down on the cushion next to Gamzee with a soft thud.

“HERE’S YOUR STUPID SODA.” You hand him a bottle and he grabs it, his grip weak.

“tHaNkS, kArBrO.” Gamzee smiles and opens the bottle. It makes a sharp hiss as the carbonation is released into the air. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a few huge gulps. The disgustingly sugary liquid is slick and heavy down his throat and you can’t help but watch the bob of his adam’s apple as he swallows. It’s fucking with you. You blush.

In the blink of an eye, Gamzee finishes drinking the Faygo. He lowers his hand to his stomach and lets out a low, loud burp before capping the bottle and tossing it to the side. “‘sCuSe mE, BrO. tHiS WiCkEd eLiXr GiVeS mE mAd GaS.” He rubs his resting hand gently over his soft gut as it makes a weird fucking gurgle.

You blush again at the sound of it. You don’t know why you’re reacting this way. They’re just Gamzee’s bodily functions. No biggie, right?

Gamzee shifts in his seat and leans back a little more. “hEy, bE a BrO aNd PaSs mE AnOtHeR BoTtLe. mY mOuTh fEeLs LiKe a MoThErFuCkIn DeSeRt.” He gives you a dopey grin, eyelids drooping and scleras tinted purple. He’s so fucking out of it.

“Y-YEAH.” That’s all you can manage to squeak out as you absentmindedly hand him a bottle. You give him a blank stare as he takes it from you and cracks it open.

The process repeats: he chugs it, burps, and asks you for another.

You’re starting to sweat at this point. Translucent red sweat beads on your forehead as you give him another bottle. He chugs it and asks for another. Then he does it again.

By now you’ve given Gamzee four bottles of Faygo. He lays in front of you, dazed and full of the sugary beverage. His hands are placed gently on top of his stomach, which, had rounded out a bit more since he started to drink. He rubs his stomach gently and lets out a soft burp.

Your face and ears are burning up. Fuck. You hope Gamzee’s too far gone to notice.

It seems you’re right because all he does is close his eyes and loll his tongue out to the side of his mouth. “‘m sO bLoAtEd, KaRbRo… hUrTs…” His voice is breathy and strained. You can tell he’s in pain as he squeezes his eyes shut even harder.

You think of what to say to him and take a breath. You’re about to open your mouth to speak, but you get sidetracked and decide to take a good, long look at your engorged friend.

He has his back against the sofa and he seems to be sinking into it. You bet he feels weightless right now. His eyes are still closed and he has his hands still resting on the apex of his bloated gut. Said gut is pretty fucking vocal; it lets loose a roar of gurgles every few moments and he winces each time it happens. He’s got beads of sweat on his forehead and you think you can see just a bit of purple blush under his semi-smudged face paint.

You think he looks fucking gorgeous.

Gamzee opens his eyes just enough to see you and makes a waving motion with his hand. “h-HeY… GiMmE tHe LaSt OnE. i tHiNk i CaN–oUuUrHp–HaNdLe iT.” He burps in the middle of talking and it makes you feel a twinge in your lower stomach. Shit.

You can feel your blood pusher pounding in your head and you feel your hands get a bit clammy. Gross. You wipe them on your pants and nod eagerly. “O-OF COURSE. ONE FAYGO COMING UP FOR ONE THIRSTY ASSHOLE.” You hand Gamzee the bottle.

He takes it, his motions very slow. The process from before begins with him cracking the bottle open. It hisses violently. He starts to drink it, but this time it’s different. He drinks slower and more carefully, his free hand holding the side of his bloated gut. He takes small breaths in between gulps and you think it’s the hottest fucking thing. It takes him a bit to finish, but when he does he takes heavy breaths and completely relaxes. He takes a few moments to breathe before unleashing a monster of a burp.

“‘sCuSe mE…” He sounds sheepish. He raises one of his arms and rests his forearm over his eyes.

FUCK. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Your thoughts are racing and by now you’ve definitely got a wiggly going in your pants. You want nothing more than to touch him right now. Your eyes rest on his stomach. You can see the bottom of his tummy peeking out a bit: his shirt had ridden up from the sheer volume of his bloat.

Your face feels like it’s about to burn off. You bite your lip.

“GAMZEE,” you say, meek and shy. You think you sound really fucking stupid.

“yEaH? wHaT’s–HiC–uP?” Gamzee moves his arm off his face and he looks at you. He seems to be irritated by his stomach.

You think your chest is about to burst with how hard your blood pusher is beating. You don’t say anything. All you can think to do is reach out to put your hand on his belly.

And that’s exactly what your dumbass decides to do.

Your hand moves to rest on his round belly and you can feel the pressure of his bloat against your touch. Upon contact, Gamzee inhales sharply and falls limp. You assume that means he’s okay with this. You release a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding.

You start to gingerly rub his belly and he mewls in contentment. You notice that he is blushing and you start to sweat again. He’s smiling lackadaisically and his eyelids are heavy.

“I-IS THIS OKAY?” you manage to ask him. You continue rubbing slow circles into his gut while you (impatiently) wait for his response.

Gamzee flicks his eyes to you. They’re hazy and his pupils are blown wide. You think he looks unbelievably hot like this. There’s no fucking way you’re not into him. “y-YeAh, i-iM cOoL WiTh iT.” He blinks and looks off to the side to avoid your eyes. You notice that the tips of his ears are bright purple and you realize. OH. HES INTO THIS. OF FUCKING COURSE HE IS.

You scoot closer to Gamzee so you’re practically shoulder to shoulder. You can hear his breathing–it’s heavy and labored and he’s breathing through his mouth. You gulp nervously and continue stroking his bloated belly.

He seems to revel in the sensation of your fingers on his taut stomach; each gentle pet from you earns a soft, breathy mewl from the bloated clown. At this point your bulge is completely unsheathed and it’s coiling over itself in your boxers and you pray to troll Jegus that Gamzee doesn’t notice it.

“fEeLs sO gOoD, kArBrO… kEeP aT iT…” Gamzee says lazily. He shuts his eyes again and leans his head back, then rests his arms on the back of the sofa to give you better access to his body.

You can’t say a fucking word you’re so turned on. As you continue to rub Gamzee’s belly, you start to feel more adventurous and you lift his shirt up to expose his bare gut. He gasps when your hand makes contact with his skin, and he’s cold to the touch as most highbloods are. His belly is sitting comfortably in his lap and it’s spilling over the waistband of his pants. Dear fucking gog this shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

“YOU R-REALLY LIKE THIS, HUH, ZEE?” You tease Gamzee nervously as you give his gut a gentle pat on the side.

“…yEaH,” is all he says before he starts to rumble like a fucking engine. He lifts up his shirt a bit more as an invitation for you to touch him. You press the apex of his belly gently with your palm and it makes him let loose a wild burp. He noticeably blushes.

“WELL C-CLEARLY YOU ARE CAUSE NOW YOURE FUCKING PURRING.” Your ears are burning. Fuuuuuhuck. You hear a gurgle from Gamzee’s stomach and you think you might lose it right fucking there.

“WuL, i ThInK yOu wOuLd bE tOo iF yOu wAhS mE RiGhT nOhW,” he says. His words are a bit slurred from being combined with his purring and he rolls his head to the side, opening his eyes halfway to look at you. He’s giving you a dopey smile and batting his eyes at you. He reaches up to you and brushes your cheek with the backs of his knuckles. He giggles.

“iT sEeMs YoUrE iNtO tHiS tOo, KaRbRo… LoOkIt ThAt MoThErFuCkIn bLuSh,” Gamzee teases.

“N-NO! NO IM NOT!” you retaliate and remove your hands from his stomach. You avert your gaze and shove your hands in your lap, and you can feel your blush burning into your skin. It feels like the gog damn Alternian sun is in the room with you.

Gamzee laughs again, honking vigorously. “cOmE oN, mY iNvErTaBrO. yOu KnOoOoOw YoU wAnNa ToUcH iT,” he teases with a drawl. He holds his belly with both hands and gives it a gentle shake, which in turn makes him burp. He grins and runs his bright purple tongue over his sharp teeth. He flicks his eyes to your writhing bulge. Shit.

You can feel sweat dripping down your back and your blood pusher is beating harder than ever. Your breath comes in short bouts and you let your horny animal brain take over and your hands dart to his gut and you touch him eagerly.

You knead and rub Gamzee’s tummy and he honks contentedly under you. You can hear the soda he drank bubbling in his stomach and every time you knead into a tender spot he groans before burping.

Gog you think it’s so fucking hot that he burps so openly like that. It really does something to your bulge–it’s thrashing wildly in your pants and you can feel yourself start to leak.

You move one of your hands to tease his grubscars and the moment contact is made, Gamzee all but fucking keens at your touch.

That one fucking sound is all you need to be driven over the edge and before you know it you’re spurting cherry-red genetic material in your boxers. Your nook clenches on nothing and you grip his shirt for leverage.

You ride out your orgasm and when you’re done, you’re a panting, sweaty mess, laying your head on Gamzee’s noisy gut.

“yOu oK, kArBrO?” he asks. He’s papping you gently as you lay on him. You’re still breathing heavily and you turn your head to face the TV. The movie credits are rolling and you sigh, closing your eyes.

“YEAH.” That’s all you can manage to say to him as he strokes your hair softly.

“mE tOo. mY mOuTh AiNt DrY aNyMoRe.” Gamzee chuckles and gives a soft honk.

You snort at his remark. There’s no fucking way you’re not doing this again. You’re so into him. So, so, into him.