Sweaty and smelly (bloated Michael x Anon)

by Hazbinfics

Summary:

"Idols don't shit" - unfortunately, even if they are angels, they still fart ;)

(in short, was thinking about Michael practicing dance routines... Couldn't help imagining him all sweaty and gassy and,,, here we are)

 

 

You hear Michael let out a small yet sonorous burp. He shudders uneasily, pressing his forehead against the wall, his long bangs falling down on his face: “Uh, this is a disaster…”.

Every few seconds, his stomach is growling with the harshness of an enraged lion. You give it a small pat, touching the sweat-drenched silky fabric of Michael’s sports shirt. That inflicts risky pressure on the blonde archangel’s swollen guts and causes him to flinch and raise his shoulders, trying to hide his face which is slowly starting to gain a pink hue.

His bottom is a bit bubbly… just the shape you wouldn’t expect from a warrior archangel. Usually, the archangel’s lower rounds are obscured by his angelic robes, so this is an interesting discovery for you. Possibly, the slight fatness is the result of Michaels’ careless binging on sweets in his free time – he can get carried away by small things. You just sit in front of his ass and observe the nice shapes, all the while softly rubbing Michael’s bloated belly.

Finally, Michael gives in to the need to cut one, and a pressurized whiny thud burns his cheeks. He squeaks and hides his quivering mouth behind a hand, not quite believing what he was doing.

Smiling happily, you breathe in the warm scent that soaks the air around your nose. It seems similar to the scent of rotten apples and eggs. You can also recognize something like unwashed damp socks in that aroma. It’s an absolutely gag-worthy combination, but you are immediately hooked on it. Then you press your palms into the sides of Michael’s ass and make those mounds of half-muscle, half-fat jiggle, chuckling at the sight. The small tight shorts he is wearing are allowing every curve to be distinct. It’s very amusing to see.

The archangel sighs in slight despair.

“Anon, remember, you must NOT tell anyone about this! Ever!”, - Michael dramatically reminds you, clenching his delicate fists and blushing, tiny teardrops forming in the corner of his eyes: “Or else my reputation as a full-time idol will be ruined! Idols can’t be seen farting! You got it?”. You nod and nuzzle his asscrack, begging for more. He huffs and turns back to the wall for support before letting more gas rush out.

“I’m only doing this for you…”, - he whispers.

First, his butt burps out a few short rumbly farts that physically attack your face with those strong vibrations. Michael is breathing heavily from embarrassment, probably not ready for letting out the next fart in front of you. You understand, why, when a longer, more boisterous rumble rolls out of his asshole, drenching your whole head in a cloud of noxious gas. That sound is the crudest yet. Michael moans from how strong his own fart is and huffs softly after the eruption ends.

“I made an awful mistake eating that pie before practicing my dancing routine”, - Michael complains: “My butt practically burns now from all this farting…”.

“Well I like the result”, - you purr, taking long noisy sniffs, before sticking your tongue out and running it up Michael’s bare thigh, collecting the drops of sweat that have collected on his light skin.

The angel shivers and wails: “W-wait! What are you doing?”.

“What do you think? Cleaning you up~ You worked up quite a sweat with all that practicing, huh…”, - you continue passionately licking all over the soft salty skin of his thighs, all the while continuing to sniff the remains of Michael’s gas. However, you quickly get a new dose – panting with his tongue out and trembling from the unusual sensations, Michael loses control of yet another portion of the winds that cause a wetter rumble to resound in the air of the quiet lonely place your filthy shenanigan is occurring in.

“A-anon… Could you not breathe so loudly? It’s... embarrassing! When I hear you breathing, I can’t ignore the fact that you are sniffing my gas”, - Michael’s face is pure red at this point, but you hardly pay any attention to what he’s saying, now groping at his legs and moving on to pressing your tongue into the crevices of his buttocks and… even giving his “ball area” a gentle lick. It’s so incredibly rewarding to be able to touch the archangel’s intimate places, even through the cloth of his training clothes. And they are so moist with his delicious angelic sweat too. It’s impossible to stop once you start.

“N-no, stop! Stop this instant!”, - Michael raises his foot, preparing to break out of your grasp, but stops for a moment and whines, overwhelmed by the feeling of you now flat-out sucking on his balls through the shorts. He quickly recovers and finally grabs your hands and throws them off: “I said stop!”.

He smoothly dodges your attempt at trying to hold back onto his legs again and jumps a meter away from you, accidentally letting loose a small bassy fart, but hardly paying any attention to that. “Anon, we agreed on sniffing only!”, - Michael cries out, still blushing madly, but sporting a more confident stance than before, so you know that you better watch yourself now.

“Aw come on now, Michael, I was just trying to help you relax”, - you try defending yourself.

“Well, that was way too inappropriate!”, - the blonde snaps, and then covers his blushing cheeks with both hands: “Just letting some gas out was enough for me, and I’m feeling better now… So.. Goodbye, I guess”.

Embarrassed and infuriated, the archangel flies off in haste, leaving you with the fantasies of his lovely soft behind and with regrets about not getting a chance to go further with your advances.