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justsomeoneintoomanyfandoms · 1 year

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May I request a fanfiction about Diavolo or any of the brothers (obey me) that has a calm and collected S/O who one day just looks very grumpy and tired?

Hi Anon! Absolutely! Ooh, my first fanfic request in a while...let's see how it goes!

Pairings: Lucifer/Mammon/Leviathan/Satan/Asmodeus/Beelzebub/Belphegor/Diavolo x gn!reader (separate)

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It just was not your day.

You'd been gaming with Levi and Belphie until late last night. Then when you finally got back to you room, Satan had dragged Mammon in to work on an assignment. You had gone to bed in the early hours of the morning. As a result, you slept in, Lucifer banging on your door to wake you up. Thanks to Beel, you missed breakfast, and just when you were walking out the door, Asmo realised he had forgotten his bag. Which prompted you to realise that you had also forgotten your bag.

So when you got back to the House of Lamentation, you were just not in a great mood. Your usually calm façade was slipping quickly. All you wanted was to lay down in your bed and sleep the rest of today away.

But of course this was the House of Lamentation. There was no peace to be had there. Of course the brothers only knew bits and pieces of what had happened in the last 24 hours so when they looked up from what they were doing to see you standing, glowering in the doorway, they were surprised to say the least.

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More under the cut!

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Lucifer sighed as he heard the door slam. He really had to tell his brothers to be more careful with the house. But as he turned to chastise whichever sibling had disrespected the front door, he caught a glimpse of your tired, angry face.

There aren't many things that make the first born blanch. But in that moment, he felt an unnatural stab of fear.

He quickly shook off the feeling. As your partner and someone Diavolo had trusted to look after the exchange student, Lucifer needed to make sure you were okay.

He gestured for you to meet him in the next room, away from his brothers. As he turned, he saw you roll your eyes and he bit down the rising wave of anger. You were having a bad day, it was to be expected.

"Are you alright? You seem tired."

You nodded tritely. "Late night. Bad morning."

Lucifer recalled that he had needed to wake you up that morning, something that rarely happened. He guessed his brothers must have kept you up last night with their foolish whims.

He sighed again. "I'll make sure you get an early night tonight. Don't worry about any work you have to do. I'll take care of it."

The first smile he had seen lit your face at his words and he felt his pride soar. Even if it was a small gesture, he'd managed to make you feel better. He'd count that as a win.

Lucifer poked his head into your room a few yours later to see you curled up under the covers. He silently walked over to the bed and pulled another blanket over your sleeping form, brushing your hair out of your face as he did so.

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As soon as he heard the door slam shut, Mammon's fight or flight instincts kicked in. Usually that only happened when one of his brothers was mad (Lucifer especially) and when that was the case, he was usually the one they were after.

So when he saw you standing in the doorway, he was surprised (and a little ashamed).

"Hey human. How ya doin'?"

The look you gave him was so foreign on your usually calm face that Mammon actually took a step backwards. But he didn't get to where he was without having a good sense of how to stay out of trouble. So he walked over to you, stretching out a hand to rub your shoulder.

"Y'okay?" His voice softened. This wasn't like you, something must have happened. He could see the bags under your eyes.

Oh. That's right. You were up last night trying to help him study. A twinge of guilt twisted his stomach. Maybe he was responsible for this.

"C'mon! Follow me." He grabbed your hand and tugged you behind him.

"Where are you taking me?"

"My favourite human and partner's havin' a bad day and it's my job as ya first man to change that!" He could feel his cheeks and ears burning and he looked forward determinedly so you wouldn't see his blush.

As a result, he didn't see the small smile that touched the corners of your lips. Your first man was on the job to make sure your day got better.

The snacks were scattered over the table and the movie’s credits were rolling before Mammon noticed that you had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He smiled and pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your head.

“Sweet dreams human.”

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Leviathan almost jumped out of his seat when the door slammed. His game jumped from his hands and he scrambled to catch it. Once it was secure again he turned to see who had almost made him drop his precious device, ready to yell at them.

He was used to seeing grumpy looks from people (even if they were only in his mind sometimes) but seeing that look on your face was something he wasn't used to.

His immediate instinct is to think you've finally gotten fed up with him. He knows it’s just his sin speaking but he can’t help the intrusive thoughts. You stayed up late playing video games with him last night, and now you-

Oh. You stayed up late last night. He knows when he goes a few days without sleeping, he gets irritable. Maybe you just couldn't go quite as long as he could before that happened.

As you stormed to your room, Levi followed you at a distance, saving and closing his game. When you reached your room, he approached you quietly.

"Hey." His voice was soft, "You want to relax together? We can watch your favourite anime? The new season just stared right? We can rewatch the rest to catch up."

You smiled. Levi watching something you wanted to rather than rewatching The Tale of the Seven Lords meant a lot. "Yeah, I'd like that."

You only watched the first two episodes before you slipped into a comfortable slumber. Levi pulled a blanket over you and turned down the volume of the show. He’d stay here until you woke up. After all, he needed to see what happened in this show his partner loved so much.

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Satan recognised that look. It was an outward display of an emotion he felt more than he cares to admit.

He felt bad for you. He knows what it's like to have days where everything is just too much and there was nothing you could do to keep it together other than try to scare everyone away.

He also knew that it was partly his fault. Mammon had been pestering him to help him study and he’d lost his patience, dragging him over to your room for some extra help. He should have dealt with his brother on his own and let you have some well-deserved peace and quiet.

If this was his fault, it was also his responsibility as your partner to help you feel better, as you had helped him so many times before.

He slipped a bookmark into his book and closed it, tucking it under one arm as he stood. He caught your gaze, so full of tired anger, and tilted his head in the direction of your room. He saw your shoulders drop almost imperceptibly and you followed him.

When you reached your room, Satan turned to face you. “Go on. You head in and get changed into your pyjamas. I’ll be back in ten minutes with some of your favourite books from my collection. I’ll read to you.”

You felt tears prick the back of your eyes as you smiled at him.

True to his word, Satan brought back all of your favourite books. He tucked you under the covers, your head on his lap and he read to you, his voice low and smooth. Only a few pages in and you were already asleep but Satan read on. He wanted to still be here when you woke up.

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Asmo audibly gasped when he saw the grumpy look on your face. Didn’t you know that sort of expression would give you wrinkles?

Well, he knew just what to do! You’d grabbed his bag for him this morning when he’d forgotten it so the least he could do was share his bath and his favourite self-care products with his lovely partner!

Asmo jumped out of his seat and grabbed your hand, ignoring your half-hearted attempts to tell him that you just weren’t in the mood right now. He didn’t stop until you were standing in his bathroom.

“Alright, get undressed and I’ll run the bath!”

He was off before you could even protest. The lights were turned down and a few dozen candles scattered around the room were lit, their flames dancing softly. Asmo dumped his favourite bubble mixture into the bath and lined up the skin care and hair products he knew would work best for you.

As you climbed into the bath, Asmo slid in behind you. When he had taken his clothes off, who knew, but he was pouring shampoo into his palm before you could properly register the situation.

“Lean back, let me wash your hair.”

You smiled as you leant back onto his chest. Some self-care would be good after the day you’d had.

Asmo smiled down at your sleeping form. The bath had had just the relaxing effect he had hoped for and now you were blissfully lost in your dreams. Now he just needed to figure out how to get you out of the bath, dried, changed, and into your bed. Oh well, he could rest here a bit longer.

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Beel felt terrible. It was entirely his fault that you hadn't had any breakfast. Demons could go a while without food but he knew humans weren't like that. He should have restrained himself.

So he had foregone his afternoon workout to drop by Madam Screams to get your favourite snacks. Of course he had picked up a few for himself but he had been waiting until you got home before he started.

Now, he picked up the picnic basket full of food and waved you over. Your expression lightened slightly as you walked over. No doubt you could smell the food. Beel knew he would have the same reaction if he was in your place.

He gently took your hand and led you to your room. He had been in earlier and set up a small picnic blanket on the floor, accompanied by a vase of flowers and an assortment of cushions. He let got of your hand and placed the basket on the floor, opening it up to reveal the food inside.

“I wanted to apologise for breakfast. So I got you this.” He patted the pile of cushions next to where he was sitting.

You took the seat gratefully and began helping him take the snacks out of the basket. All of your favourites were there and you felt touched by his thoughtfulness. Beel made sure you ate your share before he had any, restraining his sin to show you how truly sorry he was.

You were stretched out on the floor, nestled in cushions, curled into Beel’s side. He lifted a hand to wipe a stray crumb of food from your cheek before wrapping his arm around you. He knew he should carry you to bed…but a few more minutes snuggled up with his partner right here wouldn’t hurt right?

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Belphie almost fell of the couch when the door slammed shut. He had just been about to find out who the mastermind behind his dream escapades was when he was rudely awakened. He picked himself up off the floor and turned to see who had woken him up.

Yikes! If you’d looked like that when he’d broken out of the attic, he would have had second thoughts about whether you were really human. That look was certainly equal to some glances he’d caught from demons before.

He remembered last night’s gaming extravaganza with you and Levi. As avatar of sloth, he could feel the exhaustion rolling off you in waves. Well, he was certainly the best person to help fix that.

He threw a pillow at you before grabbing one of his own and a blanket and waving for you to follow him into the observatory. When he stopped and turned around, he thought he glimpsed a shimmer of mischief in your eyes, as though you were about to retaliate for the pillow he’d thrown at you. But you just laid your pillow down next to his.

He stretched out on the ground and pulled the blanket over both of you. Almost instantly, he felt the pull of sleep. But first, he needed to make sure his partner was comfortable.

He felt you shift as you turned to face him. “Thanks Belphie. I needed this.” You curled into his side and closed your eyes, breathing almost instantly settling into that of someone fast asleep.

Belphie let sleep overtake him as well as he turned to wrap his arms around you.

A few hours later, Belphie’s eyes fluttered open. He gazed down at you and sensed that you were still sleeping deeply. He pressed a gentle kiss onto your forehead before closing his eyes and letting sleep pull him under again.

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Diavolo shot Lucifer a disapproving glance as soon as he saw you slam the front door of the House of Lamentation behind you. Why was his favourite transfer student not their usual self? He watched you storm off to your room before turning back to Lucifer.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to postpone our meeting.”

Lucifer nodded, gathering up the papers on the table between them. Diavolo made his way to your room, knocking gently on the door.

“Go away. I’m not in the mood right now.” Your voice was muffled through the wood.

“Not even in the mood to say hello to your loving partner?”

He heard you moving and stepped back as you opened the door. Now that he was closer to you, he could see the dark circles under your eyes. You opened the door wider to let him in. He slipped through and, before your could react, had scooped you up in his arms. He carried you over to your bed placing you gently on the mattress.

He walked back over to the door before turning to face you again. “Get changed and let me know when I can come back in. Then you can tell me about your day.” And he closed the door behind him.

When you called out to him, Diavolo re-entered the room, locking the door behind him. He sat down on the bed next to you and stretched out an arm, laying it over your shoulders. “So. How is my favourite exchange student.”

And he listened to you as you explained your day, voice growing softer as you felt sleep creeping over you. When you had been silent for a few minutes, Diavolo checked on you. He smiled when he saw that you were asleep. After the day you’d had, you certainly deserved it.

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genshos · 6 days

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(inspired by this post by nullphysics)

How had he gotten here? McCoy had just finished his gamma shift and had paperwork to finish when he entered his office and found Spock sat in his desk chair in low lighting. Other alpha shift crew members would be getting well needed shut eye but Spock was awake, because of course he was, and in a moody lighting no less. Like this was normal. As McCoy stood there, in the middle of his own office, staring at his own occupied chair, the Vulcan watched him intently.

"I think you'll find Sick Bay is my domain, Mr Spock. You stay in your lane. Or is there a reason why you're crowding up my office?"

Spock was silent, so Leonard stalked around his desk and faced him directly with his hands on his hips. The first officer of the Enterprise rotated the chair to face McCoy but said nothing.

"Well?"

"I believe we have many things to say, but so far, only actions have been prevalent in our communication."

McCoy blanched.

Yes, exactly that. That-which-he-had-avoided-thinking-about-as-much-as-he-could, Spock just finally put some semblance of words to what the hell had been happening between them both for a long while now.

Stolen glances across the bridge that lingered for a few seconds longer than appropriate.

Working together in the sick bay labs, noticing they were standing too close, closing the gap a little further, Spock pausing.

McCoy grabbing Spock by the front of his science blues in anger during one of their disagreements and the fury filtering out of Leonard at the heated stare Spock gave back.

Spock pulling Bones from a treturous fall from a ledge on a beam down just last week, and their bodies being pinned for a few moments after the rescue, feeling the rise and fall of deep breaths of relief against the other, a subtle push and pull as they pressed their chests together harder.

"Listen, Spock, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable—"

Spock held out his hand. "Cease speaking, Leonard. You misunderstand." With that hand, Spock took McCoy by the wrist and pulled him gently, but it took the doctor by surprise and he fell haphazardly into Spock on his desk chair.

He paused, gripping Spock's shoulder for balance and before Bones could retract the position, Spock lifted his knees to shimmy McCoy squarely into his lap.

The doctor felt his face heat immediately. It only got even hotter as he felt cool finger tips at the hem of his tunic lifting it and exposing his stomach, when the air touched his exposed flesh he groaned in the back of his throat.

Spock's hypersensitive hands must be feeling the tremor of anticipation in McCoy's abdominal muscles; the pads of those long elegant fingers could surely feel Bones' racing heartbeat as they traced up his torso slowly. He trusted the Vulcan was shielding his touch telepathy, to defend McCoy against betraying his own thoughts projecting to Spock, protecting his privacy even in this intensely intimate moment. Not that it mattered, as every goddamn emotion was projecting from his face and told Spock all he needed to know.

Stop. Don't stop. We can't do this. I've been wanting this for so long I can't remember when it began but all I know is if you stop touching me I'm gonna— Combust.

Spock's left hand joined the right in its ministrations, as though trying to touch as much of McCoy as he could, as though he were irresistible. Bones' shoulders shrugged up self-consciously.

Leonard knew the strength behind this soft sensuous touch, that Vulcan strength could easily snap him in two without any effort at all, and if that wasn't hot as hell— the physician's tension in his shoulders seemed to snap at the thought and he squirmed in Spock's lap, his hands coming down on Spock's thighs and holding on tightly.

"Something on your mind, Doctor?" Spock asked, cool and calm, the only indication that anything was getting through that Vulcan façade was clear for McCoy to see if he dared to glance down.

"Don't you mind me, Spock." Bones' chest rose and fell in one deep breath. "Carry on, then." He added haughtily.

Spock's eyebrow quirked. That bastard.

There was a beat where nothing happened, but McCoy straightened himself so he could gaze at Spock and gauge what the hell he was playing at. He was acutely aware of Spock's muscled thighs under his ass, and opened his mouth to say something because he had no idea what to do—And then those cool, soft, competent fingers rose higher and higher and warm palms smoothed along his ribs. McCoy groaned and fell forwards, his face inches from Spock's neck.

Here Bones could see Spock's expression up close. Those micro movements of th Vulcan's features that gave him away, and the bastard looks like he thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. I'll show him, McCoy thought, and pressed his lips to Spock's.

#star trek #spones #spock #McCoy #bones #leonard mccoy #genshosart #genshos #fic let #spones ficlet #nullphysics

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strawwritesfic · 1 year

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Bilbo Baggins x Female!Hobbit!Reader: Save

Summary: The beginning of your own story might be worth writing down someday as well.

Rating/Tags: All (Post-Hobbit; pre-Fellowship of the Ring; The Green Dragon; Drinking; Alcohol; Server!Reader; family problems; inheritance problems; meet cute)

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Save

Any Hobbit worth their salt could recite upon command any number of stories about far-off lands and daring adventures. Children might shudder in their beds thinking of shadowy forests filled with creeping spiders; even adults could blanch over news of wolves spotted near Buckland. But that was all such tales were in the end: Distant news and exciting fiction, meant to entertain and never to touch its listeners. Nothing could ever really involve the Shire. The people of Hobbiton were free to continue their vicarious quests–until one day such a quest did involve the Shire.

“I already told you, Otho, I don’t have a mountain of gold hidden away to give to you. I’m certain that if I did, there would be nothing left after I was forced to buy back my home and all my possessions.”

You looked up from your work behind the counter to see one Bilbo Baggins sitting at a table across the room. He had a mug of ale clutched in one hand and a look of polite distaste on his face.

Upon recognizing his drinking companions, you couldn’t say you blamed him for looking like that. Otho and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins were not your favorite customers when they were minding their own business. Throw in harassing other patrons, and you couldn’t help but shoot them an ugly look of your own behind their backs.

Normally, you would have tried to throw them out. Now that you were in serious competition with your younger brother over the inheritance of the inn, however, you decided it would be better not to make a scene. "A patron is a patron, so long as they’ve got gold to spend," as your father had reminded you since you’d started working at the Green Dragon in your tweens. Apparently your brother had no trouble remembering this, though you suspected his good memory was because he didn’t spend much of his time on the clock doing any work, not because he lacked any hint of your admirable temper.

“[Name], quit lollygagging. Table Eight wanted supper fifteen minutes ago,” your father called over the usual evening hubbub.

His watchful eye prevented you from eavesdropping further on Bilbo and his guests, so you flashed your haggard father a grin, picked up a waiting tray of food, and dove back into the throng.

The Green Dragon had been owned by your family since it had been built several generations ago. Sometimes you got the feeling your father would have gladly given up five square meals a day to be rid of the responsibility of running the place. Not so you. Working at the inn made you come alive more than any other place in the whole of the Shire. You had been hanging around it since you were old enough to follow your father to work as a youth and working there since you were bold enough to convince him to give you a job. By necessity, you knew every nook and cranny, every regular’s name, and every story ever told by the grand stone fireplace.

Except, that was, for Bilbo’s story. Even knowing that the mere sight of Otho and Lobelia would anger you, you sneaked another peek over at their table as you set the food down on another surrounded by ravenous tweens. Sure enough, the trio was still there. Bilbo’s polite façade appeared to be fading quickly as he listened to the two of them rant.

“[Name],” whined one of the tween boys, “you’re in the way.”

You hastily removed your hand before any of them could mistake it for part of their meal. Your constantly-hungry youth wasn’t so far behind you that you had forgotten what it felt like.

“Make sure to pay before you leave this time. Don’t want me to have to talk to your parents again, do you?” you asked.

None of them replied.

With a deep breath and a roll of your eyes, you turned away. Before you lay a buzzing dining hall. Hobbits laughed and ate and drank in seemingly every inch of the building. It warmed your heart to see so many happy people enjoying your family’s business. All except for Bilbo, of course, who had dismissed faking politeness entirely and now stared grumpily into the space about his relatives’ heads as they prattled on about whatever it was they had a bone to pick about that night.

Before you could even attempt to interrupt the conversation, your father caught your eye and motioned impatiently at the growing assortment of food and drink waiting to be delivered. You picked your way toward him, progress hindered by the many customers that stopped you to say hello. The conversation at Bilbo’s table had grown quite lively by the time you arrived at the bar to pick up another order.

Truth be told, Bilbo’s fascinating disappearance and reappearance were not the only things about him that kept you looking at him. Neither were his rumored riches; you planned to take over the Dragon and raise your own small fortune, after all. Bilbo had, in fact, always interested you. He had had his own schedule before he’d left the Shire, coming in once a week to drink and listen to the same old stories you did day after day. Always polite, that Bilbo, if admittedly not forcibly friendly like most of the others. You had never had to throw him out for poor behavior, at any rate.

That night was the first night he’d been back to the inn after all his time away. You’d been dying to talk to him since the minute you saw him walk through the door. Between your job and the Sackville-Bagginses, you hadn’t had a chance.

Then an idea occurred to you–a wonderful, terrible, perfect idea. Before any of your fellow workers could guess that you were up to something, you filled your tray with the waiting glasses of ale. Your plan might not have had the best timing, considering the dinner rush and how flustered your father had already become, but he would have to do without you. You were only one Hobbit, and if your father truly believed passing the Green Dragon onto your brother (who was, as usual, suspiciously absent that evening), then what good was your working your fingers to the bone to please customers?

You turned and marched purposely toward the table at which Bilbo, Lobelia, and Otho sat. As you drew nearer, you could understand why Bilbo looked as pained as he did.

“As far as I’m concerned, you forfeited your right to Bag End when you left without saying a word and without electing an heir. The hole is ours,” Otho was saying.

“Is it,” said Bilbo.

Lobelia gave him a very nasty, almost un-hobbotish sneer. “You clearly aren’t right in the head anymore. Dragons? Dwarves? Why don’t you just admit you got into some messy business with that Gandalf fellow and step aside for Otho to be head of the family?”

“Difficult to do when I’m not at all mad, my dear Lobelia. For why should you think I had gold to spare if I never had my grand adventure?”

“You’re a fool,” she said, “a fool and perhaps even a criminal. We could go over your head, Bilbo. Mark my words.”

“Consider them marked. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

“We aren’t done here,” Otho growled, getting up to follow Bilbo away from the table.

Oh, yes you are, you thought.

Just as Otho reached over to pull Bilbo back into his seat, you arrived along with half the dining hall’s drinks. Otho standing up actually provided you with the perfect opportunity. All you had to do was angle your feet just right, and–

Lobelia’s scream told you that you had succeeded. Your staged trip and fall managed to tip all the ale on your tray so that it spilled over the Sackville-Baggginses heads. There they sat, dripping in abject shock, as Bilbo stood staring on in astonishment.

“Oh no!” you squealed dramatically. “Did I do that? I’m ever so sorry. I’m such a klutz!”

With a lurch toward Lobelia, you made to press a towel to her sopping hair. She flinched away before turning the full brunt of her wrath on you.

“You-You-You,” she said. Apparently, your act had rendered her unable to form complete sentences.

This unforeseen bonus didn’t last long; before you could so much as attempt to offer a fake apology, Otho got in your face: “I’ll have your job for this, girl,” he said, and any desire to apologize, falsely or otherwise, vanished.

You hooked a thumb over your shoulder toward where you’d last seen your father running around like a chicken with his head cut off. “Boss is that way.”

The two left without more than several glares in your direction. You watched only long enough to see your father shoot you a knowing, aggrieved sort of look when the Sackville-Bagginses approached him.

Shrugging, you turned away. Well, it was difficult to feel sorry for him. If he really wanted a supper rush without incident, he really ought to have forced your brother to show up for his shifts every once and awhile, especially if you were expected to give up your inheritance without a fight.

All the same, you knew better than to leave a mess behind. You began to pick up the (thankfully unbroken) glasses littering the table and were almost finished by the time Bilbo spoke:

“Thank you.”

You had assumed he had taken the opportunity to escape your inn entirely, actually. His voice surprised you, and even more so that he was standing exactly where you’d left him.

“You don’t need to thank me for being clumsy,” you answered, then smiled mischievously at his blank expression. “It looked like you could use a rescue. Those two shouldn’t bother you again tonight.”

“Thank you,” he said with more feeling.

“It’s your first time back since your adventure. Wouldn’t want you spooked off forever.”

Much to your confusion, Bilbo hesitated before he replied. His eyes slid toward the door and back to you, and then he took a wide step backward. “Right,” he said. “All the same, I think I had better get going.”

As you looked on, he began to shuffle toward the front door. You realized with a jolt exactly what he thought: Bilbo believed you, too, were after his gold. He didn’t exactly look less nervous when you followed after him either.

“That’s a shame,” you said. “I really was hoping to hear your story.”

That got him to pause. “You…were?”

“Sure. Dwarves and dragons and spiders and elves. Sounds better than half of the stories the rest of them have been telling all week. I'm getting a little tired of the time the creek froze over and let the wolves in, personally. ”

“Mine is a rather exciting tale,” Bilbo confessed, then seemed to decide you weren’t so frightening that he couldn’t size you up. “And you are?”

“[Name]. My dad owns the place.”

At that, a look of slight disappointment crossed his face. You didn’t understand it, not until he went on: “Then I suppose you wouldn’t be able to join me at my hole for a cup of coffee and a chat? I find myself wanting a quieter atmosphere, but I could do with some company still.”

The words no, not tonight were right on your lips. You couldn’t just abandon the inn, or your father for that matter.

But on second thought, why couldn’t you? Really, your brother ought to have been there by now to take over, and there were other servers, too, picking their slow ways from table to table. Besides, when was the last time you’d been given time off, or even a break for that matter?

“You know what?” you said. “I’d love to.”

“Delightful!” cried Bilbo, and he held out his arm.

It took you less than half a second to place your tray on top of one of the other server’s trays as she passed by. She gave you a wild-eyed, panicked looked, but you did not explain.

You’d hear all about your lack of responsibility in the morning once your father discovered you had slipped away. For the time being, you were just like any other Hobbit. Who cared about work, the inheritance, or the inn when there was such a fine story to hear and such a fine Hobbit to tell it? Even as you thought about the lecture you were in for, you couldn't find yourself regretting your decision.

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moraygrotto · 10 months

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kink fic commission~💙

many thanks to @askbloatedbellyblog for commissioning this Jade solo fic!! here, jade finds some creative ways to spend a schoolday, which include menacing people on azul’s behalf and his own :3

contains: vore (samesize, fatal implied), belly worship, bloating, burping (regular and with objects), stuffing

chapter 2 is now available here!

~💙~

The sweet serendipity of the moment was what cemented Jade’s decision. In his elegantly poised hand was the chin of a poor, unfortunate soul who had failed to fulfill the terms of his contract. Jade was craning over him, the words ‘Azul has authorized me to dispose of you by any means necessary’ had just oozed from his lips, and this poor fellow’s eyes were hollowed out in abject terror. Exactly then had Jade’s stomach chosen to let out a rolling, beastly growl.

Half of Jade wanted to abandon his intimidating façade, and give his tummy a pat, praise it for playing along oh-so-well, and promise it a big, hearty treat as a reward.

He only let himself grin.

It had worked on the woeful contract-breaker. His face blanched; he began stuttering over himself: “Please, no– I’ll work at the Mostro Lounge for the rest of the semester; you can give Azul all of my magic; please, I promise! Anything but– Just not– Please, please don’t–”

Jade cocked one quizzical eyebrow. “Please don’t what?”

This was his favorite part of the hunt. Morays were ambush predators. Jade bore no interest in running himself ragged with a drawn-out chase. Instead, he waited patiently until his prey was unaware, and ripe for the kill. It was this pivotal moment that made his ancestral blood sing out from within his every vein– his victim’s switch from swimming in peace to squirming in his jaws.

This time, his predation was quite literal. His belly, too, seemed to delight at his impending catch, because, as his victim began to tremble all over, it let out a gleeful snarl.

He laid one hand politely atop his hungering stomach. “Pardon me,” he said, not looking away, not for one moment breaking his gaze away from the hopeless student. “You were saying?” he said. “...Pleading, if I may?”

“Please,” he whimpered. “Don’t eat me.”

Delicious.

“Eat you?” Jade said. “Why, what a pleasant idea. Not many at this school can swallow a fellow whole; I’m tickled you know me to be capable of the act.”

“The rumors were true…” the boy said faintly.

Jade was advancing slowly now, inch by inch closing his meal into a corner of the deserted hallway. “Rumors?” he interjected. “Why, how lovely! I might as well be famous!” His surprise was entirely for show. He had heard the rumors that he and Floyd ate people who disobeyed Azul. He had also heard much, much worse.

The trembling student was trapped in the corner now. Jade was looming over him, blocking off his escape. In this position, he looked very small. Jade’s stomach gave another sullen growl, and Jade, in turn, hoped he would be filling.

“Say,” Jade said, caressing the boy’s chin with one gloved hand, achingly tender. “Might you… by any chance… care to add a whisper or two to the rumor mill?” He gave him a gentle smile. “After all,” he continued, “if I were to walk into my next class swollen with, say, the mass of a man about your size…”

The student gulped.

Jade traced a finger down his throat, and over his chest, before resting it in a subtle show of dominance at his waist. “I’m sure,” he said, “that the more observant Night Raven gossips would take note.” So slowly and smoothly that the poor soul had no time to notice, Jade took both his wrists into one hand, binding them tight. “Doesn’t it sound lovely,” Jade chirped, “to be a story?”

“...No,” he whispered dryly.

“Come again?” said Jade. He was in his clutches.

“No, no, no–”

“Oh, I do beg your pardon,” Jade simpered. “There seems to have been a misunderstanding. You lost your right to refuse punishment the moment you broke your contract.”

“No, please, no–”

“And I,” Jade sang, “acquired the right to do this!”

In a flash, Jade lifted the struggling soul up before him, flipped him upside-down, and plunged him headfirst into his open, waiting jaws. The familiar taste of human suffused his mouth.

Growing up in a dangerous area (and later becoming part of the danger), Jade’s social-outcast peers had valued toughness, grit, and willingness to do hurt, in case one should find oneself in the crosshairs of a life-or-death bind. Many times had Jade been dared to swallow a creature live, and many times had Jade accepted the challenge. This was no secret. Anyone who cared to look past his gentlemanly veneer knew of his potential for coldness, and of his appetite.

What Jade was less ready to offer, however, was how much he relished the experience. Outwardly, his body was weaker than many morays’, and he maintained impeccable manners, so it followed that he reveled in every chance he had to bite, devour, feed, to glut himself until there was no question of his dominance. Live prey could squirm and thrash inside him, but unless Jade chose mercy and regurgitated them, the labyrinthine death trap of his guts would silence all in the end.

Besides, Jade thought to himself as he slurped the contract-breaker’s shoes down last of all, mercy or no, it felt so good to be full. Little could fill Jade up better than a human-sized feast.

Next came the slow but satisfying process of his prey sinking down into his belly. His throat bulged, his head swam from the exertion of his esophagus’s initial stretch, and the top-heavy weight of the body inside him did nothing to help his balance.

Slowly, Jade turned around, and allowed himself to lean against the wall. His stomach was already beginning to push gently out against his abs. He knew he could bloat much, much bigger than this. He had done it before. For now, however, he took the dusty corridor air one thin breath at a time, feeling his prey sink, watching in satisfaction as his belly pushed out, out, out.

Periodically, as Jade adjusted to the constriction of his lungs, the little contract-breaker thrashed, stretching Jade’s insides, dislodging a sharp hiccup or a burp. He would be alive for a while inside Jade. Jade was excited to feel how long this one would struggle.

Eventually, there came the satisfying feeling of the boy's final bits –his shoes, no doubt– sinking fully into Jade’s stomach. Placing one hand atop his belly, he could not help but let out a melodic moan. As he applied pressure to the solid mass with his fingers, the vocalization stretched into a long burp, rudely filling up the hall with its bassy thrum.

Jade smiled, chuckling to himself. Petting one’s own belly and belching out loud were not good manners for customer service. Luckily, the little friend now squirming within him had earned himself a very different kind of service.

As Jade settled into a feeling of peaceable fullness, he looked down to examine himself. With his victim’s full mass now at some semblance of rest inside him, Jade did appear bloated. He was used to consuming so much at once, though, and so was his belly. Due to all his stomach’s efforts to tuck his meal neatly into place, he hardly looked bigger than he would if he were pregnant, and carrying a human baby.

He gave his belly a discontented squish. “Finally,” he said to it, as it gently churned around its contents, “you and I disagree about something.”

Jade felt comfortably full, it was true. Others might notice the bulge at his middle, and be confused. For all intents and purposes, he was sated.

But Jade did not want merely to be sated. His predator instincts had not yet been appeased. Jade wanted to be full. Jade wanted to reach inside himself, find the heart of his gluttony, and indulge it for all its wicked whims and fancies. He knew, if he were to truly treat himself today, other people would most certainly notice. If they did notice, he did not want them to look at his monstrous, swollen gut, and feel confusion. Jade wanted fear.

As he let out a sigh, he heard footsteps coming down the hall. He took another begrudging breath, stretching his crowded diaphragm. He would have class soon, and it would not behoove him to be seen lounging in repose against a wall, squirming belly pointed toward the world as it strained against his waistcoat and jacket.

The source of the footsteps turned out to be Riddle, who was no doubt on his way to Jade’s same class. Jade rose to a proper standing position, and gave him a wave. “Good afternoon, Riddle,” he said.

“Hello, Jade,” Riddle said brusquely, and turned the corner past him. A moment later, however, he looked back at him over his shoulder. “Are you… feeling alright?” he clipped.

Jade put on his best Lounge waiter smile. “Very much so,” he said. “I’m feeling splendid.”

Riddle furrowed his brows. “Pardon my rudeness,” he said, “but you look a touch bloated.” No matter how much he strove to maintain proper eye contact, his eyes kept returning to Jade’s belly, as if by magnetic attraction. How delectable. “It could be a symptom of a serious problem, magical or otherwise,” he continued. “There should be enough time before class, if you’d like me to walk you to the infirmary.”

Jade shook his head. A belch from his prey’s incessant writhing had picked that moment to come crawling up his throat. He stifled it carefully, then spoke– “On the contrary,” he said, “how would you like to walk to class with me?”

He could read the unspoken words of shock in Riddle’s eyes– With you looking like that? He gave Jade’s belly one more apprehensive glance, a nervous blush rising to his cheeks. “Alright,” he said after a moment.

In silence, Riddle and Jade walked to their Potionology class together. Riddle had been conquered far too easily. To stun Riddle into silence, Jade had not even needed to lie.

Perhaps his lack of probing questions would be more convenient in the long run– A well-placed ‘Oh, but my tummy’s always been this big; do not tell me you’re only noticing it now!’ had much more impact when Jade was three times as stuffed as he was currently, and he would loathe to wear his excuses out.

As the pair entered the Potionology classroom, Riddle stepped in first, followed by Jade. While Riddle was much the shorter of the two, Jade was slower now than usual. His breathing was not as full as it was on a lighter stomach, and his gait was somewhat slowed by the mass in his belly. He was not, however, trundling along as indolently as he would be if he were truly full. Hence, only some students stared as Jade shuffled to his seat, and Jade’s mind set to work planning how to reach such an engorged state.

The first half of the class was comprised of review, and of preparations for the lab section, which would take place in the second half.

Jade’s meal did not seem happy with his seated position. His stomach was even more restricted than it had already been by his restricting clothes, and his prey squirmed with renewed vigor against the confines of both.

A tap came on his shoulder in the middle of the lecture, as Jade was trying to focus on his textbook, as well as a written task from Azul that he had hoped to complete in class so as to retain his free time.

“Jade,” came one of his classmates.

“Hm?” He pulled his book down towards him, trying coyly to hide his belly.

“Um, sorry to bother you,” they said, “but are you, like, okay?”

Jade gave a perfunctory smile and nod. “Your consideration is appreciated,” he whispered, “but I’m just fine. Really, you’re far too kind.”

His classmate raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and returned to their own notes.

Sitting quietly in a class while one’s belly was full of a human who did not want to be there, Jade found, posed some unique challenges. Several minutes later, he felt a familiar bubble of pressure near the top of the round dome of his gut. He thought he merely had to burp up a bit of gas, but as he gave the area a surreptitious prod, something much bigger shifted inside him.

Having lived underwater and breathed through gills for most of his life, Jade found air a rather tricky substance, especially as it interacted with the body. For a while after coming to live and study on land, Jade felt that if any air wanted to come up his throat, it would come up, and had almost resigned himself to being unable to control his burps at all.

With the help of some Internet resources made by other land-dwelling merfolk, however, Jade had eventually learned to repress his belches effortlessly enough to accommodate his appetite and eating style.

Even so, he was doubting himself now. Whatever was inside of him felt like it would be loud, thick, and wet. He would hate to disrupt the class so impolitely. After all, how could he ever drop his polite image if he took no care to maintain it?

Carefully, he pressed a finger to his lips. His belly shifted, his throat opened up, and a rumbling rolled up from deep inside him; he tried to keep it soft and subtle, but there was little else he could do. He could try to gulp the gas back down, but a moment later, he realized how bad an idea that was.

The solid mass he had felt within his belly was there, popping up his throat, and into his puffed-out cheeks. It was long, cylindrical, and bulky on one end, and stretched his mouth uncomfortably, even as he blew the air silently out through a hair-thin part in his lips. It was his prey’s Magical Pen, he realized.

He took a moment, trying desperately to look natural, before withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket and attempting to spit the pen seamlessly out.

The student next to him was looking out of the corner of his eye at the glittering gem, as Jade set it down on his lap.

Jade smiled, imagining the look on Azul’s face if he ever heard this tale about his right-hand man.

“Did you have that in your mouth?” the student whispered.

As Jade’s mind scrambled to come up with a response, he fixed him coolly with one raised eyebrow.

Under the sea, it was incredibly common to regurgitate parts of one’s meal. Many fish, after all, contained pesky bones, or spiny tail fins, and if a predator’s digestive system deemed them too difficult to digest, then up they would come. One could simply spit them into the water, and pat one’s belly happily.

Human mouths, however, were disappointingly small, and no matter what meal rested inside one’s stomach, spitting things out, to say nothing of burping them up, was rude.

“No,” Jade lied smoothly. “This is a lost item I found outdoors in the dirt, which I plan to return to its owner. Just now, I was merely dabbing my mouth with the same handkerchief I had been using to clean it.”

“Seems a little unsanitary,” he replied.

Jade put on a piteous frown. “Well,” he said, “I unfortunately have but one handkerchief.” He brightened up. “Come to the Mostro Lounge. Perhaps, if business becomes just a touch more profitable, I might be able to afford such luxuries.” He gave him a smile. “Do consider it!”

“Man,” he said. “Doesn’t Azul pay you enough to–”

“WHELPS!” came the stern shout of Professor Crewel. “I will have no idle yapping in my class. Pay attention, so you’ll stand half a chance at succeeding in today’s lab section. Understood?”

“Yes, Professor,” replied Jade and his neighbor in unison. Jade pocketed the handkerchief, and the Magical Pen.

The lab section of the class came quickly enough after that. Standing up, Jade had a much more difficult time concealing his prominent paunch than he had sitting down, and he struggled to fasten the buttons of his lab coat around his swollen middle.

“Whoah,” came another classmate, noticing Jade’s pathetic attempt. “Jade, are you, uh, hiding something under there?”

Jade glanced around the room. The high-ceilinged space resembled an upset coral shelf, for all the students hurrying around in no particular schooling pattern. He could tell this poor classmate the truth, and no one would hear.

He leaned in close, and winked. “I am.”

They paused, waiting for him to elaborate.

Jade smiled at them. After a moment, he looked down at the fruitless struggle of his lab coat buttons, gave up his attempt to fasten them, and smoothed the lapels down as neatly as he could over his front, before walking calmly to his station.

Since he excelled so at Potionology, Jade did most of the lab work himself, politely delegating a gentlemanly portion of the note-taking to his lab partner. Not once did a single drop nor fleck of the experiment’s components land on his body.

Nevertheless, not ten minutes passed before he heard a telltale clicking of metal rod against leather glove.

“LEECH!” came the voice of Professor Crewel.

Jade paused his work, and allowed himself to frown. A professor was the one type of foe Jade could not necessarily slither his way around.

“Leech,” Crewel repeated, “if you heard me, I expect you to answer me with a ‘yes, Professor’.”

Turning around to look at him, Jade fixed his expression into the most pitiful pout he could muster. He knew it was fruitless; Professor Crewel would be ruthless even to an injured puppy as it trembled, but Jade liked to see just how far his brazen cruelty could run its course. “Yes, Professor,” he whimpered. “What is it, Professor?”

“You are no doubt well aware,” he clipped, “that you are wearing your labwear incorrectly.” Eyes flashing, he whipped the table with his crop. “I expected better of you, Leech. As one of my more passable students in matters of both Potionology and personal grooming, you have my direst disappointment!” Another crack. “Fix it, now!”

Looking down at his clothes, Jade gave a long sniffle. “I– I’m sorry, Professor,” he said, “but look. Even my waistcoat is far too small for me, to say nothing of my lab coat.”

Crewel huffed, evidently refusing to be affected by the sight of Jade’s belly. “That is exactly what you should be ashamed of,” he said. “Proper sizing is paramount to the presentation of the Night Raven College uniform.”

“But, you see, Professor,” Jade continued, “This lab coat fit me perfectly just the other day.” He snatched up a nearby scrap of paper towel, and feigned to dab at his eyes. “You’re not so old yourself,” he croaked through mock sobs. “Surely, you remember how frustrating it was to be a growing boy. One day, you’d be one size, and the next–” His voice cracked. “–a growth spurt would hit you, just like a bolt of lightning. I had not planned to purchase a new set of labwear until the next school year, but now– I–” He buried his face in his hands.

There was a pause. Jade could not see Crewel, but he dearly hoped his patience was cracking.

Crewel swallowed. “This,” he said, firmly as ever, “is not accordant with the patterns of a normal growth spurt. Please do not forget, Leech, that I am a teacher here, and have seen my share of teenage puppies struggling up into adulthood. Your lies will not stand with me. Now, button your lab coat, or else!”

Jade peeked an eye up at him. “I told you, I can’t,” he said. “Here, look–” Lowering his hands, trembling so convincingly he would cheer for himself if he were alone, he tried to bring the two breasts of his lab coat together over his prominent, bulging belly. He let the fabric strain for a moment beneath his fingers, then gave up. It fell limply to his belly's sides.

“I’m sorry, Professor,” he whined. “But– But you would not truly take disciplinary action against me for being… for b-being… a little fat, would you?”

Crewel whipped the table again, louder than ever this time. “Clearly,” he barked, “you have something hidden under your clothes. I command you to take it out, then continue your experiment in the strictest of propriety.”

There it was. Jade had won. As the whole class watched the confrontation in silent awe, Jade let his crocodile tears fall away, and his mouth split his face into a curling, toothy smile.

If a professor asked a student to remove their clothes in the middle of class, they would be finished. Jade, of all people, could have him snuffed out like a light.

The students in the class were no doubt rooting for Jade, in spite of the uncanny shape of his body. They had all been under Crewel’s thumb one time or another, and had likely never seen a student talk back to him and win. If Azul were here, he would no doubt shape Jade’s victory into an opportunity for the Mostro Lounge, for clout at the very least.

But Jade did not care an ounce for fame nor fortune. All he desired from this situation was the satisfaction of the catch.

“I assure you, Professor,” he said, lying voice a soothing coo, “It’s just me under here.”

He placed the towel back down upon the table, pulled his goggles carefully back onto his face, and waited patiently for instruction, as obedient as could be.

After that, Professor Crewel lent Jade a larger lab coat from his closet of older spares, and sent him off at the end of class with an order to purchase a new coat or have his tailored.

For the rest of the school day, Jade was as happy as a clam. He obtained permission to sit out afternoon Flight class, complaining pitifully of a ‘stomach bug’. When he had almost given up pleading his case to Coach Vargas, his prey, as if able to hear the conversation in full, shifted inside him, causing a deliciously horrific squirming effect under his gym clothes. He almost wished he had asked the boy’s favorite food before gobbling him up; the unfortunate creature deserved a reward for helping him out, even in spite of his dire position within Jade’s gut.

In these clothes, he was far less constricted, belly filling the waistband comfortably up. As he leaned against a tree, watching his fellows fly around, he felt almost as if he were out camping, watching a flight of swallows chase each other down a mountainside while he sat and digested a bountiful, wild-caught meal.

He had long since decided that after class, he would indulge himself with a tableful of treats at the Mostro Lounge. He had earned it, and he thought his prey had earned it, though perhaps he merely liked the idea of him becoming more and more crowded by delicious foods inside his belly.

“How do you feel, my friend?” he asked, pointing the question vaguely toward the inside of his tummy. “Would you care for a bite to eat?”

He received no response.

He took Flight class to work through even more paperwork for Azul, propping a laptop up on the dome of his belly. Since he had no shift this evening, he wanted to make sure the time would be available all to himself.

Despite how nice he felt at this size, he relished the thought of growing bigger. A healthy array of snacks meant he could easily control his intake, and besides, he would be hungering for them by the time he arrived.

As class wrapped up, Jade gave his belly a pat, eternally grateful he was here and not on the field. Although he was growing accustomed to walking with the weight of his little ‘stomach bug’, he would not stand a chance at keeping graceful and collected atop a broomstick.

Finally, class was over, and it was time to return to Octavinelle. He walked with a slow, stately gait, doing little to hide the paunch that preceded him through every threshold, door, and mirror. Many of his fellow students gazed openly at him; others averted their eyes the moment they saw him, then glanced back surreptitiously. To some of such passers-by, he only smiled, but to those whose eyes lingered upon him, he gave a little wave, the very image of friendliness.

Jade was actually rather more used to being stared at than he was to blending in. Moray merfolk were oft stereotyped as fearsome, and after a while, Jade’s and Floyd’s classmates began to question what their parents did for a living. To be an outcast, an oddity, was part of what had attracted them to Azul. Therefore, the shock on his peers’ faces, at seeing Jade so bloated he might be carrying anything in his stomach, did not upset him at all.

It was nice to look human, to blend in with the other students, and leap out of normality at will. There was, however, something comforting about being strange.

Sauntering down to the Lounge, occasionally giving his gut a pat or a loving caress, he wondered just what was going through their minds.

“Good afternoon,” he said to the Octavinelle student working at the maitre d’s stand. “I am not on duty today, so I’d like to sit down for a bite to eat myself–” He cocked his head cutely, trying to distract them from other parts of his body. “–If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Not at all,” they replied, and led Jade to a booth of his own. Routine workers at the Lounge all knew of Jade’s superhuman appetite, which was likely why they had not even suggested a seat at the bar.

As he sat down, the boy he had eaten shifted inside his stomach. Still alive. He had to commend him.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly,” said the maitre d’, the same practiced words that Jade himself had said one hundred times.

Jade let out a long sigh. In spite of the mass inside his stomach, he really was a bit peckish. He had tried almost everything on the Mostro Lounge’s menu, and was yearning for his favorites. Additionally, he figured he would try the remaining dishes tonight. He could tell anyone who asked that it was important research for his job right here– How hard-working he was, to taste-test for Azul while he was off the clock!

He smiled when a small boy with a notepad wove through the post-class rush and approached Jade’s table.

“Welcome to the M– Oh, Jade.”

Leaning one elbow on the table, Jade gave a little salute. “I am dining, not serving, today,” he explained.

“Sounds great,” the waiter said brightly. “So, would you like any drinks to start out?”

Jade nodded, opening his menu. “I would like a Coral Milk Tea, with an extra spoonful of the taro pudding, and no ice.”

The waiter scribbled rapidly, then made to click his pen shut.

Jade held out a hand. “In addition,” he said, “I’ll take a meat bun platter, table-sized; a Sea Salt Brulée; a baker’s dozen of the octopus dumplings; a serving of Pearl Biscuits with the vegetable dip; one Seafoam Pudding, in just a bowl if none of the crystal cups are available right away; one Kelpberry Scone with extra drizzle, and… ah… what was it? Yes, one of Floyd’s specials, if possible– the barbecue calamari deluxe sweet-and-spicy sandwich, extra garlic, hold the edible glitter.”

He gave a cloying smile up to his waiter, whose face had turned pale.

There was a long pause after he had finished scrawling down the order. He peered down at him, eyes full of trepidation, as if he might see a little monster, drooling and fidgeting for insatiable hunger, tucked into Jade’s booth behind him and tugging on Jade’s sleeve in silent entreaty for more food, more!

For Jade to simper sweetly up at him and say ‘There’s no one else here with me’ would be an egregious lie, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Will that be all?” the waiter asked.

“I believe so, for now,” Jade replied.

In quiet satisfaction, he watched him scamper off to the kitchen. The Lounge was so busy already, and Jade had just put in a large order. How bad he was.

As he waited, he tried to cross his legs beneath the table, but found it too difficult given the size of his tummy. So, he chose to instead spread his legs wide atop his seat, and lean back, casting one arm over the back of the booth cushion, and setting the other atop his lap.

“Whoah, Jade,” came a voice. A boy rounded the corner toward his table, carrying a tray full of dirty dishes. They were a third-year Octavinelle student, who was evidently working as a waiter tonight as well.

“Good evening,” Jade replied breezily.

“Your stomach looks huge,” they said, without returning the greeting. “What’re you doing with a set place at the Lounge? You look like you’ve eaten a boat!”

“A boat,” Jade hummed. “No, only in my daydreams.” He figured it would be unwise to use the ‘growing boy’ excuse on his dorm-mates, so he picked another, and frowned. “I merely had a glass of juice with lunch today,” he said, adding a subtle twinge of bitterness to his voice. “You know how fructose can puff one up. You must know, as Azul talks about it so much.”

“I don’t know!” the boy countered, a cup teetering atop their stack of dishes. “That doesn’t look normal, man. If anything, uhh, puffs you up that much, you should see a doctor. It might be, like, allergies.”

“Thank you for your ever-so-kind consideration,” Jade said. “I’ll think about it, and pay close attention to how I feel. Now–” He raised an eyebrow at their precariously stacked tray.

It was strange, the status he held compared to his upperclassmen. Sure, they were older, and the teachers respected them more, but Jade was Azul’s right hand. Especially inside the Mostro Lounge, it behooved all to listen to him.

“Right,” the boy said, grinning sheepishly. “You take care of yourself, okay, Jade?” Hands full, they gave a little gesture with their chin. “I’ll see you around.”

Jade waggled a few fingers after them, then looked down at his empty place, and sighed. He could only hope that once his meal were tucked safely away inside him, his belly would be even more swollen than it was now.

The dishes soon began to arrive, beginning with his drink and the vegetable dip. While he had taken small sips from his water glass since the moment he sat down, the milk tea singularly soothed his palate. After cramming an entire fellow student down his throat, the creamy tea and silken pudding were like a soft caress, and even soothed his well-worked insides as each sip sunk into his belly.

The Pearl Biscuits, a crisp, shimmering creation of Azul’s, were a different story altogether. If anything, they combined with the light dip to make him more hungry.

Good. He wanted all the capacity he could get.

The kitchen had seemingly decided to give Jade some simulacrum of a regular dinner, as the heartier, more savory foods came out next, followed by the sweets. The buns and dumplings swept the edge off his hunger wonderfully, but added little circumference to his rounded gut.

“I’ll see you nice and swollen soon,” Jade said in a low voice to his tummy. “There is more food on the way for you.”

The massive, chaotically messy sandwich of Floyd’s invention, when it arrived, was thus a welcome guest to Jade’s table. He found himself dabbing his mouth again and again, the blissful pressure on his stomach rising with each flavor-packed bite he swallowed. He would have to bring up his gratitude to his brother later.

Finally came the sweet treats. As he wiped his fingers clean of sauce from the sandwich, he felt perfect, but as the salted-caramel pudding known as the Sea Salt Brulée landed on his table, he felt his stomach swell in eager anticipation. He cracked its shell eagerly, and slurped it down one heaping spoonful at a time, holding nothing back, giving all to his gluttony.

As the other desserts practically slipped from the waiter’s hands into Jade’s belly, he began to feel truly full. His gut was noticeably more swollen than it had been before his meal; his clothes looked ready to pop.

He was proud of himself– he had set out to get bigger, and he had. While a voice still itched at the back of his mind, telling him he could do better, bloat more, he silenced it, instead choosing to be satisfied with the roundness of his gut. He could barely move forward and back in his seat; if he could still pass as pregnant, people would no doubt assume his baby was overdue.

When only scraps remained on the table, he leaned back, continuing to pick at his dishes with a fork, reveling in the feeling of bloat.

Awash in this food-induced lethargy, Jade did not want to move. However, when he heard the familiar clicking of a certain someone’s cane against the Mostro Lounge’s floor, at a tempo characteristic of said someone’s most businesslike gait, he knew he would need to be at attention.

Jade turned his head, and, sure enough, saw Azul striding through the Mostro Lounge, hat on, urgency firelike in his eyes.

“Jade!”

When he arrived at Jade’s table, his expression fell. He knew what it looked like when Jade was comfortably stuffed; he recognized the signs of a Jade with proverbial prey in his clutches, eager to play with the limits of his own stomach.

“Jade,” he repeated, softer.

Jade smiled. “Good evening to you, Azul.”

“I’m terribly sorry to say this to you in the middle of your evening off, but another student has broken a powerful contract of mine.”

As Azul had not asked a question, Jade did not respond. He merely raised his eyebrows at Azul, gave his belly a slight caress, and stifled a burp.

Azul frowned. “The contract’s magical conditions have all been activated, but I also verbally specified that the signer’s person would face consequences if he failed to meet his requirements, and you know how awful it would look for me if I had a student running around, tra-la-la-ing about how I had gone back on my word.”

Watching him babble, Jade could see he was distressed, so he knew it would not be kind to tease him now. However, with Azul, he could hardly help himself. He clicked his tongue. “Azul,” he warbled, “had you, perhaps, not taken your morning coffee yet when you made this arrangement? Fatigue can beget carelessness to an unfortunate –urp– extent, as you seem to be realizing now.”

Azul gritted his teeth. “Please, Jade,” he said. “I’ll tell you this fellow’s name, and all I ask of you is to remind him of the stipulation I made.”

Jade glanced down at his mostly-empty dishes, plucked a fragment of cracker from a plate, and ate it.

“I can give you time-and-a-half Lounge pay, if you clock how long it takes you, but really, fifteen minutes is all I ask.”

Jade licked a crumb off his finger. “But, Azul,” he whines, “imagine how much more I could eat in fifteen minutes.”

Azul dared a look down at Jade’s engorged belly and assembly of empty dishes, and scoffed. “What can I offer you in return?” he asked flatly. “I’m far too busy to do this job myself, let alone waste time arguing with you.”

Agonizingly slowly, Jade let out a sigh. “The desperate octopus once more resorts to bargaining,” he said. “I’d have thought our relationship was more profound than any such exchanges. You know I won’t sign any contract of yours, Azul.”

“You are the one being shallow,” Azul said through gritted teeth. His eyes were widening, and Jade could see his whole body tensing with stress.

Jade could ask for nothing more. In a few years, he hoped Azul would look back, and laugh at himself for falling apart over one little contract. He hummed. “And what does this… reminder… entail?”

“Anything,” Azul snapped. “It doesn’t matter, just let him know he’s in trouble.”

He smiled. “Might I… be the trouble?”

Finally, Azul seemed to melt in relief, cracking a small, tepid smile. “Of course, Jade,” he said, voice falling back to his customer-service drawl. “Knock yourself out, so to speak. I’ll compensate you handsomely, of course.”

Jade looked up at him, feeling like a child who had just been granted a lollipop. “Thank you, Azul,” he chirped.

Azul placed a soft hand on Jade’s shoulder, which was enough to jostle a hiccup out of Jade. Azul flinched, but did not back away. “Thank you,” he replied. “Make sure to finish up by tonight, alright? I’ll be waiting for you back here at Octavinelle.”

Satisfied, Azul bustled away.

Jade retrieved a piece of scrap paper from his bag, and wrote out a note instructing his waiter to bill his meal to Azul, who would take it out of Jade’s regular wages. Then, stretching inconspicuously, he rose from the booth, one leg at a time, acclimating to his newfound weight.

He had a thrilling night still ahead of him.

#moray writes #this one has some other named characters and a bunch of mobs who alternate between he/him and they/them :0 #also aghhhh i dont follow any of the vore tags so idk which are commonly used #soft vore #sweet! theres one!#stuffing #two!! hahaha! i feel like the count

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