#d.imitri b.laiddyd

[dangantums]

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…?”

[moraygrotto]

💃Fic Time💃

this is a v0re fic centered around d.imitri/f.elix from f.e3h! premise is "the crest of b.laiddyd makes u eat people."

more warnings can be found below the readmore but this is implied samesize v0re thats inherently fatal in universe but never written as fatal between the main couple.

⚠️warnings:

- body horror (slightly graphic)

- violence, blood, use of knives, death (graphic but only at the very beginning)

- emeto (pretty graphic)

- burps (hell yes)

~💗~

How could an assassin possibly break into Garreg Mach?

Dimitri couldn't find an answer to this question before the power of his Crest washed over him, he gripped their blade hand tight, and slashed through the throat with their own knife. As it clattered to the floor, his body opened up and took in the fresh corpse, just like it was built to do.

His eye fluttered shut.

As his jaw affixed itself back in place, he thought to himself: My insomnia saved a life. Lying wakeful in bed, he had heard a noise one room over, then bolted out the door, only to find an assassin brandishing a blade over Felix— Felix.

Dimitri's former classmate, his comrade in arms, his... not lover, not quite yet, perhaps if... His Felix was sitting upright in bed, shaking, a knife of his own gripped tight in his hand.

As the intruder inched down Dimitri's gullet, he stared dumbly at Felix, and wiped a smear of justly drawn blood from his mouth.

Felix blinked. He was wearing that expression, that look of utmost fear and contempt that Dimitri had first seen many years ago.

The worst part, thought Dimitri, about breaking free from a brutal and all-consuming depressive spell, was that one's body still made the same demands it always had. For five years he had no qualms about fulfilling them. Before then, he was a youth afraid of his own hunger, and at the very beginning of it all, when his Crest first emerged, he could not control his animal urges at all. All the while, and to this day, the Crest of Blaiddyd periodically filled him with a burning need for the flesh of men.

The only trace of the assassin was the bloody knife on the floor.

"Felix," he whispered, "I'm so sorry."

Shoulders rising and falling with every breath, Felix tore his eyes from Dimitri, and slid his knife back under his pillow.

The villain's descent down Dimitri's throat had reached its conclusion, and the weight in his belly was making his head spin.

Felix swallowed dryly, and looked back up at him. "He was gonna kill me," he said.

"Yes," Dimitri replied. "I could not let that happen."

Felix began to ball his sheets up in his hands, focusing in on the sharp white peaks of his knuckles. "I... suppose... I should say... thank you."

He looked uncomfortable. Dimitri turned to leave.

"Wait," came Felix's voice.

Dimitri blinked.

"Stay."

As Dimitri turned back around, he couldn't help but note the absence of a cape swishing or armor softly clanking. He had dashed over to Felix's room in his pajamas, and the grotesque, misshapen mound of his gut was protruding out from underneath his top. Nobody should have to see him like this, least of all Felix. Not after he—

Those faintly haunted amber eyes looked up at Dimitri, flicked over to his desk chair, then back down at his hands.

Dimitri gulped, regretted the action for the strain it put on his stomach, then moved to sit down. He knew from experience that Garreg Mach's desk chairs could bear the weight of two, so he let himself relax, the mass inside him sinking down into his lap.

A long sigh escaped him. He hoped Felix wouldn't keep him long. Digestion was a process he had been through countless times before, and one for which he preferred to be alone.

"It felt nice," Felix blurted out.

"What?"

"You know what. That time you..." He gestured to Dimitri, who was in the middle of suppressing a dry belch.

Heart sinking, Dimitri realized he did know. It was an evening he tried never to remember, many years ago, before even the Academy.

Back then, his grip on his impulses was still shaky at best, and he had lost control. His animal needs had taken over, that boundless Blaiddyd might had overwhelmed, all had gone black, and the next thing he knew, he was so blissfully, sleepily full.

Felix cleared his throat. "When your eyes lost all their light," he said slowly, "and your jaw unhinged... it was the most horrifying thing I had ever seen." He crossed his arms, and pulled his knees close. "It didn't take me long at all to come to terms with the fact that I was gonna die. Thanks for that, boar."

"Me?" There was so much to blame on Dimitri here, and Felix was picking his quick acceptance of mortality?

"Once I had swallowed all my regrets," Felix continued, "I... started to realize... against the entirety of my better nature..." He looked up, as if begging Dimitri to interrupt his own sentence. Then, a small sigh. "I realized how comfortable I was," he spat out. "I thought to myself, if I was gonna die young, despite all that bullshit we're told about the glory of giving oneself to the battlefield... there, inside you, would have been a pretty nice place for it to happen."

Dimitri should not be deriving some twisted pleasure from these words, so he pushed the feeling down. "I'm shocked," he said.

"Me fucking too," said Felix. "And once your... juices... stomach fluids... started to wash over me, it barely even hurt. It was—" he gritted his teeth, "—comforting."

"Truly," Dimitri replied, "I am glad to hear something good came out of that horrible night, even if only for a short while."

He licked a trace of blood from between his teeth, and swallowed it, despite being fully sated with no desire for blood nor flesh. He had to diffuse how tense Felix felt, how hard it clearly was for him to discuss feeling pleasure from anything, much less that.

"If I am to be truthful," said Dimitri, "it wasn't... all bad for me, either."

"Of course not, you got a meal out of it, even if just for—"

"Please," he said, "let me speak. When you were... inside me, I let out a... very large belch, and... and..."

Felix raised his eyebrows. "Go on."

"And it felt like you," Dimitri confessed. "My sense of taste was even worse then than it is now —I have told you about that, yes?— but it smelled like your hair and clothes, and... it was you, Felix. Traveling all the way up from my stomach to my lips. It was the closest I had ever been to you."

One of Dimitri's hands had taken up the futile crusade of covering his gut with his shirt. He didn't dare look Felix in the eye.

"Of course," he continued, "that was when I snapped out of my trance and rushed to the bath, where I gagged and retched until you came up. I do not know what I would have done with myself had you not survived. I have ample control over my Crest now, but the same was not true in the past."

Felix crossed his arms. "So that right there was..."

A burp tried to gurgle up Dimitri's throat; he suppressed it hard with his tongue before responding. "Ahem... My own conscious doing. Mostly. I saw that someone I love was in danger, and I... took care of the assailant in the way my body told me to." He thought back to the shadow holding the knife, and hated his own conviction that they deserved this fate. "My instincts alone," he continued, "hold no more sway over me than any regular feeling of hunger. Although I am sure of few things, among them is the fact that I'm no longer at risk of devouring innocent people."

A smirk from Felix. "You've gotten stronger."

Was that a compliment? Was that kindness? He wanted to pry for more, wanted the validation; he was greedy for more of Felix's gentleness, but he could not bring himself to, even if he could gather the words, even as Felix's gaze dropped to his swollen belly...

This was the same boy who had slid into the bathtub, covered in Dimitri's hot stomach juices. He had not been able to speak then. For years, Dimitri had imagined only the utmost horror coursing through Felix's mind in that moment. But now, he said it felt nice...

Felix's voice interrupted his musing. "And how does it feel for you?" He chose his words carefully. "...To give in to your Crest. To feed."

"Of course it feels good," Dimitri confessed. "It's satisfying an urge, after all. Even if I cough the person up afterwards, the edge goes away the moment I... swallow." His heart pounded. He had never once described the feeling before. "Well," he continued, "retching up something that big hurts, of course, but I daresay my body is just as well-equipped as it is for... consumption."

That look of contempt flashed across Felix's face, then dissipated like a snowflake over an open flame.

A startling thought hit Dimitri: If not all of that past experience had been traumatic, how much of Felix's disdain was artifice?

"Hey, Dimitri," Felix said, "the next time your Crest starts acting up, could you tell me?"

"Hm? Why?"

"That is..." Felix became fascinated with the thread count of his bedsheets once more. "Keep eating enemies," he said. "I don't mind if you eat and digest enemies. They're gonna die anyway, and... it's supposed to be good for you, right? Nourishing for your fucked up biology, or whatever."

Dimitri's heart flew. Time and time again, he had heard from Felix about watching the youth Dimitri heft a rebel's body over his shoulder, and his father whispering in his ear just what Dimitri was planning to do with it. This was the moment Felix learned about Dimitri's feeding, and subsequently decided that he loathed it. Now, finally, here was Felix's forgiveness and approval.

Felix's frown contrasted sharply with Dimitri's smile. "Just—" he stammered, "don't— don't let anybody on our side offer to fill you up temporarily, alright?"

Dimitri looked down at his belly, and let his mind focus in on the warm feeling of being full and the gentle burbles marking the beginning of digestion. "Very well," he replied, "you have my word. If I receive such a request from an ally, I shall deny it."

"Good," Felix said, and crossed his arms.

Swallowing, he looked back up at him. "Could I take my leave now?"

Felix exhaled. "You saved my life," he said, "I'd be fine repaying you." A brief but awkward silence. "Can I at least get you some water, or something? I assume you're thirsty."

"I have water in my own room, Felix."

He frowned.

"And truly," Dimitri continued, "The best repayment I can fathom is that you are still alive, and you've already granted me that."

A scoff.

"I'm serious!" Dimitri tried to say firmly, but the strain on his lungs made it come out a whine. "You are indispensible to me. If I had not come over here in time, or if back then I hadn't—" The familiar chill of remembering that it was entirely within his ability to eat and process his Felix just like food.

Felix's reply was soft— "Are you positive there's nothing I can do for you? Tonight, or just in general?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Dimitri said, and rose. His weight was so imbalanced, he wobbled when he stood up. Moments later, a string of belches began to rush up his gullet, having taken advantage of his change in position. One fist to his mouth, he tried his best to repress them.

"Almost wish you had been too late," Felix said, "then I would not be alive to hear your horribly stifled burps."

Though Felix's words were sharp, his tone of voice held not a drop of malice. Dimitri purposefully pushed the last bubble to his closed lips. "I wonder if you could handle a belly full of fresh assassin without encountering the same problem," he ventured to tease.

Felix blushed. "Problems aside, you're comfortable? Satisfied, whatever?"

"I am," replied Dimitri. "I hope you're able to fall back asleep. ...Thank you for asking me to stay a moment; in retrospect I'm grateful for our chance to chat after that happened."

"Chat," Felix echoed, rolling his eyes, then, as Dimitri was turning to leave: "Wait. One more thing."

Dimitri blinked.

Felix was standing, he was pulling something out of his dresser drawer, a small rag, he was wetting it from his canteen, he was approaching Dimitri, oh—

The touch of the cloth came cool to the corner of Dimitri's mouth.

"You've still got blood smeared on your face," Felix said, studiously scrubbing at his skin. His took Dimitri's chin in his hand and tilted his face to inspect it in the moonlight, then dabbed above his lip. For how deftly he leaned close to his body as if he were polishing a prized sword, Dimitri briefly forgot about the bloated mass attached to him that stood between him and Felix.

"There," Felix said, and as he straightened up and gave Dimitri's shoulder a clap, he finally brushed against his swollen belly. "Now you can go," he said without hesitating. "...Thanks again, Dimitri."

Dimitri licked his lips, and nodded. "Goodnight, Felix."

[dangantums]

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.

[dangantums]

Stuffing Masterpost

some of these are old... be forewarned.

s.tuffedronpa:

|| b.yakuya t.ogami: "happy birthday, my love" // "flavors (N.SFW)" // "handle his liquor" // "m.akoto forgets to do his laundry..." // "better? better." // "...cuddles after a bad day at work" // "m.akoto can't eat it all..." // "n.aegamigiri HC's" // "b.yakuya confessing..." // "overstuffed m.akoto" // "a feast for the eyes" // "love, byakuya" // "it's okay to be human"

|| m.akoto naegi: "happy birthday, my love" // "flavors (N.SFW)" // "handle his liquor" // "m.akoto forgets to do his laundry..." // "better? better." // "...cuddles after a bad day at work" // "m.akoto can't eat it all..." // "n.aegamigiri HC's" // "b.yakuya confessing..." // "m.akoto HC's" // "m.akoyo pops a button eating halloween candy" // "overstuffed makoto" // "a feast for the eyes" // "love, byakuya" // "it's okay to be human"

|| k.aito m.omota: "middle of the night" // "k.aito stress eats..."

|| s.huichi s.aihara: "middle of the night" // "k.okichi feeds s.huichi ice-cream" // "k.aito stress eats..." // "...school cafeteria" // "s.huichi feedee HC's"

|| m.ondo o.wada: "spiked eggnog" // "most perfect person for me" // "night class" // "m.ondo feedee HC's" // "...studying for exams" // "stress relief"

|| k.iyotaka I.shimaru: "spiked eggnog" // "most perfect person for me" // "night class" // "...studying for exams" // "k.iyotaka HC's" // "stress relief"

|| k.yoko k.irigiri: "handle his liquor" // "n.aegamigiri HC's"

|| k.azuichi s.ouda: "rejection" // "...breakfast before work"

|| k.okichi o.uma: "k.okichi feeds s.huichi ice-cream" // "k.okichi's birthday party"

|| n.agito k.omaeda: "n.agito WG HC's" // "... b-day n.agito stuffing -> part two" // "chubby n.agito HC's" // "i'm so lucky"

|| h.ajime h.inata: "...b-day n.agito stuffing -> part two" // "i'm so lucky"

|| k.orekiyo s.hinguji: "k.orekiyo HC's"

|| ult. impostor: "impostor HC's"

|| l.eon k.uwata: "l.eon HC's"

|| g.undham t.anaka: "...breakfast before work"

a.ce a.ttorney:

|| p.hoenix w.right: "fly on the wall" // "weight of the truth" // "respectable attorney" // "sweet tooth"

|| m.iles e.dgeworth: "fly on the wall" // "weight of the truth" // "respectable attorney" // "sweet tooth"

a.ot:

|| l.evi a.ckerman: "humanities strongest soldier" // "dinner in trost" // "no casualties"

|| e.rwin s.mith: "humanities strongest soldier" // "dinner in trost" // "no casualties"

f.ire e.mblem:

|| d.imitri a. b.laiddyd: “taste of victory” // "your majesty"

|| d.edue m.olinaro: “taste of victory”

|| c.laude v.on r.iegen: "your majesty"

misc:

N/A ... yet.