Would you care to.... uhh *sweats* write something about Mista? :'3
of course! i just hope i *sweats* did it justice >.>
It was a simple suggestion. A small dare for fun that wasn't supposed to be taken seriously. You should have known Mista would do it and then overdo it just to prove he's above the challenge.
Instead, you sit across the table from him, in a mixture of awe and shock, wondering just how your date managed to fit four personal pan pizzas inside of himself in the span of fifteen minutes.
Mista's mouth opens again, reminding you of a snake who's unhooked it's jaw, to take in the last slice. He munches it down in three bites.
The moment he closes his mouth, it's as if his stomach signaling the finale of spectacle he had just put on. It grumbles angrily, as if to scold its owner for doing such a thing.
Mista lets out a small whimper, placing a hand over the balloon like bloat of his belly. His face scrunches in pain as he stretches in his seat, unknowingly making another scene.
You watch, fixated. Mista's crop top rises even higher, already hiked up from his gluttony.
He rubs gently at his lower abdomen and it responds in fury that has him doubling over a little.
You can hear it over the soft music that plays throughout the pizzeria. You follow it as it floats up Mista's chest and into his throat.
He tilts his head forward, bringing a hand to his mouth just in case the belch that rumbles in his mouth somehow escapes.
"... Ugh. Shit. I did it." He announces with a sigh, leaning back into his chair once more and massaging his middle with two hands now.
"I can't believe I did that. It -hic!- It hurts!" He complains. "How am I supposed to eat dessert now? Why did you make me fo this?"
His whining brings you out of the hypnotism. You blink and playfully roll your eyes.
"I didn't make you do anything." You reply, reaching for your glass. "I just said you couldn't eat three personal pan pizzas because you shouldn't and took that as a bet."
"Who wouldn't?" Mista shoots back with a shrug, before accidentally unleashing a resonating burp that has the patrons that sit besides them looking towards your table in disgust.
Mista clears his throat and looks the other way, adorably embarrassed, quietly saying, "Excuse me."
You glare at the people staring, not appreciating them judging your date for something all humans do. But really, you're annoyed that Mista feels that he has to hold back now for the sake of societal rules.
You like that Mista appears overly glutted, imagine his olive skin hot to the touch, hard from being stuffed with pizza, begging to be comforted by soft fingertips.
The growls and groans of his stomach and the hiccups and belches that leave his pretty mouth are better than the music and rambling conversations that surround you.
They shake you to the core and you would love to hear more. You want Mista to gain relief even if it's at the expense of everyone around.
When you turn back to Mista, he's sucking down his glass of soda and discreetly rubbing his belly underneath the table.
"Is it really smart to drink soda on a full stomach-?"
Just as you finish your question, Mista unlatches his lips from his straw and instantly unleashes a monster of a belch that has you flinching in your seat from the sudden sound.
Mista's hands fly to his mouth, but it does nothing to hold bag the dam he just broke inside.
He becomes overcome by the flood of bubbles that fill his throat and leave him in loud outbursts.
You can feel your cheeks heat from each burp he lets out. From your peripheral, you can see the customers around you shake their heads and relay their repulsion.
All you can think about is helping your date, wishing you could rub his stomach for him and assure him that his belching was fine and would most definitely help him with his stomachache.
"Okay, that wasn't the best idea." Mista says before letting out another string of bubbly burps.
You raise your eyebrows and set your elbow on the table, leaning into your hand. It was becoming harder to keep up appearances...
Mista narrows his eyes at you, obviously not appreciating your attitude, panting for air.
"uuuurrrp... Don't... UUUUURRRRRRRAAAAAAPPPPPP!!!"
You can't help the small smile that blooms on your lips and you giggle.
"What?" He looks to you, genuinely concerned. You assume he thinks that he's embarrassing you. He couldn't be further from the truth. "You wanna go? Maybe we should go-"
"No." You interrupt, pushing your own plate of pizza towards him.
"You did eat more than three pizzas, which I have to say is impressive.
He stares at it, confused, then at you. Your smile widens, growing mischievous.
