prev @ cherryscara

also,, slash;; yes ?? while he isn’t a stranger to wealth, he doesn’t care for it and doesn’t partake in any indulgences, instead leaving his money pile up in savings while he survives off of no sleep and a bad diet. whereas jumin has luxurious everything - car, house, in-home chefs, housekeepers, suits, and so on.

thinking of luciel staying at jumin’s bc there’s a power outage at his house, and luckily the businessman has all the spare space and cash in the world for him to stay for an ‘indefinite amount of time’ along with his setup for work. the in-home chef is a bonus; he eats three times a day, as well as filling up on snacks from the well-stocked pantry. while the businessman is away at the office for other meals, he’s always back in time to share dinner with luciel. the only problem is that by the time dinner rolls around, the redhead’s belly is already satiated, heavy and a lil rounded out between the snacking and the slightly-more-than-regular meals; and despite being on the verge of uncomfortably full by the end of his first plate of dinner, he always goes for second helpings, unable to control himself around the delicious home cooked food. soon, every evening consists of him curled up on the sofa. he lounges there in self inflicted misery, holding his aching tummy full of treats and large meals and trying to distract himself from the discomfort with trash tv.

jumin often joins him – mind numbing television is always welcome after a day of hard work when he just wants to switch off. chiding luciel for overeating is pretty much part of his daily routine now; (“you can eat whenever you want, luciel. the food isn’t going anywhere.” “the fact that i can eat with no effort to cook whenever i want is the problem, jumin.”) until one day, he tries something new.

he beckons the hacker over and reaches an arm around his waist. his belt hangs loosely, unbuckled by the end of his second helping of dinner; the straining button on his jeans untied by his third. he gently nudges up his t-shirt and presses a hand to his gurgling stomach. luciel exclaims with surprise, flushing red and trying to pull away, but jumin stops him, serious and socially inept as ever.

“just let me try this. i read that it helps.”

and while he blushes and grumbles, luciel can’t deny that his hands feel good on him, one hand experimentally gliding back and forth over the curve of his overly full belly. after he sighs and relaxes into it, jumin adds a little more pressure. warm, gentle hands rub wide circles over his belly and then knead small ones beneath his navel, belly gurgling as the pressure eases up. he presses his fingers into tender spots to coax up tiny burps and hiccups. his tummy is taut, tight and plumped with snacks and extra helpings, and jumin can’t help but roll his eyes at his guest’s gluttony as he eases digestion for him.

it becomes a nightly ritual; luciel eating until his sides pinch and his waistband needs letting out, and jumin settling the heavy meals the former packs in, zoning out to whatever reality tv the redhead has chosen to rot to. the repetitive motions and the warmth of luciel’s packed tummy beneath his hands is soothing, as is the predictability of his evenings. for luciel, the benefit is mostly the belly rubs; his previous embarrassment has worn off. he has to admit jumin’s belly rubs are good. really good; and so he dines until his poor tummy has no give, and the nepobaby businessman’s hands feel so good easing the aching fullness that sometimes he even tries to fit in a bit more, becoming so stuffed that he can no longer stifle any small burps or hiccups from any pressure.

and maybe; maybe jumin likes something more than just the soothing predictability of these evenings. it’s nice to sit down to luciel’s little quips and remarks instead of eating in silence. it’s nice to rant about work to somebody who isn’t a passive and agreeable subordinate just trying to keep their job. and recently, when he relaxes into the ritualistic belly rubs, jumin has been finding that his jawline gets tickled by red hair as the hacker sleepily rests his head on his shoulder. he looks pretty with his eyes heavy lidded and his lips gently parted, breathing as rhythmically as his full stomach will allow. so close in proximity that jumin can hear his breaths, the little groans when he hits a sweet spot on his full belly, can smell the strawberry shampoo in his hair and the cologne on his neck. so close that their bodies are pressing together despite the spacious sofa. warm and soft and comfortable. maybe he missed having company.