#d.imitri a.lexandre b.laiddyd | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dangantums · 3 months

Text

Taste of Victory

ummmmmmmmmmmmmm very self-indulgent fic again. wahahahah. f.ire e.mblem fans: rise!

also was semi-inspired by this

ship: d.imidue

this fic contains: stuffing, burps, hiccups, belly rubs, burst mention

TLDR: d.imitri leads the b.lue l.ions to yet another victory! a feast just for him ensues, leaving d.edue to take care of the aftermath.

The Blue Lions had emerged victorious once again. With their enemies vanquished and their banners flying high, the group returned to Garreg Mach Monastery triumphant. Among them stood Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, his spear stained with the blood of their foes, his heart pounding with the thrill of victory. His comrades cheered and celebrated around him, their spirits lifted by their hard-won success. They gathered in the grand dining hall of the monastery for a well-deserved feast. A lavish feast that had been prepared in honor of Dimitri's leadership and the bravery of the Blue Lions. The long tables were laden with steaming platters of roast meats, hearty stews, and freshly baked bread – while barrels of ale and wine lined the walls. The tables groaned under the weight of dishes.

Dimitri took his place at the head of the table, his chest swelling with pride as he looked upon his comrades. Next to him, Dedue Molinaro, his loyal companion and partner, offered him a tender smile. Dimitri’s blue eyes sparkled with gratitude as he raised his goblet in a toast to their success.

"To the Blue Lions!" Dimitri proclaimed, his voice ringing out in the dining hall.

The soldiers cheered loudly in response. Plates were filled, wine flowed freely… a sign that dinner had just begun. Dimitri found himself seated at the center of attention and indulging in the bountiful feast, his appetite stirred by the adrenaline of battle and the camaraderie of his friends. Plate after plate of delicacies disappeared before him. Dedue monitored Dimitri with a watchful eye, ensuring that everything was going smoothly – yet he couldn’t help but notice Dimitri's plate endlessly being piled high with food, his appetite seemingly insatiable.

"Dimitri, perhaps you should pace yourself," Dedue suggested.

Dimitri chuckled. "Nonsense, Dedue! Tonight, we celebrate, and what better way to do so than with a feast fit for a king?" Cheers surrounded him once more.

Dedue relented, knowing better than to argue with Dimitri when he was in such high spirits. Instead, he focused his attention on ensuring that his lover had everything he needed, refilling his glass and serving him the best cuts of meat when he could.

But as the night wore on and the feast drew to a close, Dimitri found himself feeling uncomfortably full, his stomach protesting against the sheer volume of food he had eaten. He tried to keep up with the lingering conversations, but his eyes were glossy and he kept having to bite back belches that threatened his throat. With each passing moment, Dimitri's belly seemed to grow heavier, the pressure building within him like a gentle tide. Dedue, who was now cleaning up part of the table, noticed this behavior – but said nothing until the dining hall was empty. Leaving just the two of them alone.

"My prince, are you feeling unwell?" Dedue asked once everyone was gone, concern present in his voice.

The blonde hesitated, his eyelids heavy with exhaustion. He lazily pushed himself back from the table, hands cradling his gut. “I may have eaten too much, Dedue… My stomach feels like it's about to burst.”

Dedue’s heart thumped loudly in his chest, his cheeks growing hot. His eyes remained focused on Dimitri’s form, his gaze unwavering. Dimitri's belly, now filled to the brim with the decadent desserts, took on a pronounced, rock-hard roundness that strained against the fabric of his shirt. What was once a firm and toned abdomen now swelled into a… much more firm and taut mound. The buttons of his shirt strained, threatening to pop open with each breath he took. As Dimitri shifted in the chair, the movement caused his bloated belly to jiggle slightly, eliciting a soft groan from both the prince and his stomach. His hand instinctively reached down to cradle the swollen mound, fingers feathering gentle touches on distended abdomen. Each churn foreshadowed the eventually turning all of the rich food into muscle for the next battle.

And so, Dedue approached Dimitri, his gaze still fixated on Dimitri’s new form. Instinctively, and without asking, Dedue’s large and calloused hands reached down as he began to massage Dimitri's distended abdomen. The prince’s breath hitched, cheeks turning red as he looked away, embarrassed. Why did something that felt so wrong feel so… good?

The taller male continued to work his magic, coaxing the trapped air from Dimitri's belly with gentle kneading motions – a hearty, long belch that echoed through the quiet dining hall. Dedue at first pulled his hands away, eyes widening in surprise from the noise. But as Dimitri nearly melted into the chair from relief, he eagerly placed his hands back on Dimitri’s overworked stomach as he knelt beside him.

“D-Dedue,” Dimitri whimpered as he stifled another burp with the back of his hand. “Please, forrrRRRUUP! Oooagh… Please, f-forgive me…”

Dedue said nothing in response. Instead, he kept going, rubbing circles into Dimitri’s stomach. Dedue leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss to the prince’s forehead before trailing soft kisses down his cheek to his neck.

“Forgive me,” Dimitri whined, again.

"Do not be sorry, Dima," he whispered, his breath warm against Dimitri's skin. The sensation of Dedue's touch and hot breath sent shivers of pleasure down the blonde's spine. Dedue couldn't help but admire the prince's beauty. Even in this vulnerable moment, which was a stark contrast from how Dimitri was before the feast.

A series of hiccups escaped Dimitri’s mouth before he could even think to reply. His eyes shut tight, his own hands cupping the sides of his overworked belly, feeling the remainder of the pent-up gas he had bit back earlier. Soon, however, the burps bubbled up from his throat as Dedue continued to kneed his gut, escaping his lips with loud, muffled sounds that echoed in the quiet of the room.

"Does that feel any better, my love?" Dedue crooned.

Dimitri could only manage a pathetic hum in response, his senses overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through his body. Yet he looked so much more relieved – the bloatedness had decreased significantly. The taller male couldn’t help but smirk. He then leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to Dimitri's bloated stomach. Dimitri gasped at the unexpected gesture, his heart fluttering and his eyes opening to look at Dedue.

“My prince, are you ready for your dessert?”

“... Uhh…?”

11 notes · View notes

dangantums · 21 days

Text

Your Majesty

anon requested: If you’re still taking requests. Might I ask for C.laude Von R.iegan weight gain? Like him becoming a big king after taking the throne and eating too many feasts? Thank you!

so sorry for accidentally deleting this ask! I also hope you don't mind c.laude x d.imitri! :]

this fic contains: burps, hiccups, bloating, stuffed belly, SFW content.

ship: d.imiclaude

TLDR: c.laude experiences 'a meal fit for a king.'

The weight of the Leicester Alliance wasn't the only thing pressing down on Claude. Since taking the throne, a delightful, doughy burden had settled comfortably around his middle. Every celebratory feast with Dimitri by his side – a near nightly occurrence – added another layer of love handles.

Tonight was no different. A feast featuring a whole roasted boar, a mountain of buttery mashed potatoes, roasted capons, glazed hams, flagons of ale, rich custard and almond cakes riddled the dining hall table. Every noble house, every grateful town, seemed to shower them with the heartiest, most decadent feasts Claude had ever seen.

Dimitri, his lover, bless his bottomless pit of a stomach, was handling it like a champ. But for Claude, a man who thrived on cunning and wit, not endless buffets, a different kind of battle was brewing. A battle deep in his stomach – even this meal was too much for him. It started subtly, a polite burp after a particularly rich boar roast. Claude, ever the gentleman, excused himself with a charming wink. Dimitri, ever the oblivious sweetheart, just patted his shoulder with a smile. But the plates kept coming – Claude sampled them all, a diplomat's duty, he'd tell himself. But soon, the polite burps turned into biting back full-fledged eruptions. Claude felt ill. He excused himself, a sheepish grin on his face, and retreated to the balcony. Every breath felt like a monumental effort, and the slightest jiggle sent a wave of nausea washing over him. The cool night air did little to soothe the rumble emanating from his stomach.

"Ugh," Claude groaned, leaning against the railing. A loud, resounding burp escaped him, echoing through the silent night. He blushed, hoping no one had heard.

Dimitri appeared on the balcony. "Claude? Are you alright? I heard…" His frown softened into a playful smirk and a playful glint appeared in his eye, followed by a chuckle that broke the stillness. "Sounds like someone overindulged, Your Majesty."

Claude, cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and indigestion, managed a weak groan. "I believe," Claude began, voice strained, "I may have overindulged a tad."

"Perhaps it's time to lay off the feasts, my love," Dimitri said as he approached Claude and wrapped an arm around his waist, the soft flesh overflowing his grasp. Dimitri’s hand gently brushed against Claude's protruding belly, then gingerly massaged the taut skin.

Claude sighed, "I know, I know. But those almond cakes with the whipped cream..." Another, wetter burp punctuated his sentence. Claude winced, his face contorted in discomfort. His stomach, now a distended globe beneath his fine tunic, protested vehemently.

"Are you sure you’re alright, Claude? You look a little flushed,” Dimitri commented, face now riddled with concern.

Claude blushed further. "Just a bellyache... Happens when you eat your weight in roasted boar…”

Dimitri lifted his arm from around Claude’s, his hand hovering over Claude's midsection.

Claude swatted his hand away, but not unkindly. "Don't even think about it, Dimitri. I may be stuffed, but I'm still King."

Dimitri raised his hands in mock surrender. "Of course. Though… a king deserves a little comfort, wouldn't you say?"

Claude couldn't resist Dimitri for long, especially not with that hopeful look in his eyes. "Fine," he conceded. "But a short cuddle. My belly feels like it's about to – Hic! – burst."

Dimitri grinned. He pulled Claude close, his strong arms wrapping around the king's slightly thickened torso. Claude nestled into Dimitri's warmth, a contented sigh escaping his lips. As they stood there, bathed in the soft moonlight, another, slightly more sheepish burp rumbled from the depths of Claude's belly.

Dimitri reached over cupped Claude's face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray bit of sauce that stained the corners of his lips. “While I am concerned about how this is taking such a toll on you,” Dimitri murmured, barely above a whisper. "I do find your new… ‘figure’ rather… becoming."

Claude's face flushed crimson. "Dimitri," he gasped.

Dimitri’s grin widened, nuzzling Claude's hair. "Just stating a fact, Your Majesty." He planted a soft kiss on Claude's temple. "Now, come inside and get some rest.”

Maybe a few too many dishes at dinner weren't so bad, especially if they meant cozy nights with Dimitri.

#fic #belly kink #burps #hiccups #fire e.mblem #fat emblem #d.imitri b.laiddyd #d.imitri #d.imitri a.lexandre b.laiddyd #c.laude v.on r.iegen #c.laude r.iegen #c.laude #t.hree h.ouses #d.imiclaude

4 notes · View notes