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trivialovehandles · 4 days

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I know you listed hybrids as a maybe but I was thinking of lazy cat hybrid Yoongi, and his active dog hybrid boyfriend Namjoon. Yoongi feels like Namjoon could be using the time he exercises to cuddle with him. So Yoongi makes plans to fatten him up, starts making more food he likes, and offering to drive him to work so that way he doesn’t have to ride his bike. Namjoon’s happy because as part of this, Yoongi makes more steak dinners and gives him more belly rubs

(ao3 link) had to re-send this anon's ask to myself because tumblr ate the draft of this post, so anon, i hope you see this anyway (i know you literally requested this over a year ago lmfao)

The alarm goes off when it’s still dark, which is too-fucking-early o’clock in Yoongi’s mind. He tries to roll over, to curl up and go back to sleep, but the lingering heat on the now-empty side of the bed is now leaching all the leftover warmth, and his ears keep twitching at every muffled noise from the other side of the wall.

When the noise stops, Yoongi feels a kiss pressed to the center of his forehead. He glares through half-closed eyelids.

“Sorry, hyung. Gotta get to work,” Namjoon apologizes quietly, even though Yoongi’s already been so rudely awakened. He doesn’t even have to be at work for an hour, but Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon, and Kim Namjoon bikes to work and leaves at too-fucking-early o’clock. “See you tonight. Love you.”

Kim Namjoon is Kim Namjoon, and Yoongi loves Kim Namjoon, so he catches him by the grown-out scruff of hair at the back of his head and tells him as much, kissing him on the lips before he has to go.

And then he falls back asleep for another hour, two hours.

The perks of working from home are less perky when Namjoon works not from home. Yoongi spends the parts of his day that he’s not actively dialed into his work pacing the house, tidying up, cooking. By the time Namjoon gets home in the evening, they basically only have time to eat dinner, watch a show or two, and go to bed. Even sex gets penciled in for the weekends.

So sometimes Yoongi just wants to take Namjoon’s stupid bike and throw it off of their balcony. Serves it right for taking husband time away from him.

(He doesn’t, because despite everything, he’d like to believe he’s good husband material, but when Namjoon wakes up early and gets home late because of that thing, sue Yoongi for resenting it a little.)

The time apart means Yoongi picks up new hobbies. He was a basic cook when they first moved in together, but with all the practice, he can throw down in the kitchen, which is now filled with odd gadgets, different pans for different meals, and no less than four types of flour in the cupboard (because they always need all-purpose, but then there’s glutinous rice flour for tteok, cake flour for birthdays, bread flour because you need the right amount of gluten development for brioche, and shit, they could probably use some almond flour, too).

Yoongi’s in the middle of a soul-suckingly boring meeting with his webcam turned off when he remembers the package he’d brought in that morning, still sitting on the kitchen counter. He drags his laptop out with him as he slices the box open, grinning to himself at the sight.

Namjoon loves bungeoppang; now they are the proud owners of a brand new bungeoppang pan.

By the time evening settles and Namjoon comes home, sweaty from his bike ride, Yoongi’s filled the counter with an array of food. Galbi fresh out of the pressure cooker, melting off the bone, sticky glazed sweet potatoes, kimchi jeon still crackling in the pan. He hasn’t cooked the bungeoppang yet, but the batter and filling are mixed in separate bowls, ready to be made fresh once they finish dinner.

“Wow,” Namjoon says, racking his bike up on its place on the wall of the entryway (another demerit for the bike: they live in a tiny fourth-story apartment and to avoid it taking up precious floor space, it now takes up precious wall space). “Special occasion?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Meeting that could have been an email. I had to entertain myself somehow.”

“I’m not offended by this kind of entertainment.” Namjoon swoops into the kitchen area to give Yoongi a soft, lingering kiss. “Do you think I have time to shower?”

Yoongi pinches the front of his sweaty t-shirt. “If you make it quick.”

“So quick,” Namjoon promises. “I’m starving and that smells amazing.”

(Bike demerit number 3001: Namjoon always comes home needing a shower, meaning more time away when Yoongi just wants to sit him down and feed him dinner and kiss him senseless.)

By the time Namjoon comes back out, Yoongi’s spread everything across the counter, their empty plates and full bowls of rice placed next to each other so they can sit elbow-to-elbow at the island like they always do for dinner.

Yoongi likes to savor these moments. It’s the shortest portion of their day, but his favorite: side-by-side with Namjoon, talking, eating, recharging after time spent without each other. He can always tell when Namjoon’s settled down comfortably by the slow swish of his tail versus the fervent wag of it when he first gets home, too keyed up to focus. Now he savors each bite of his food, delicately laying a piece of galbi on top of his rice, layering it with a pinch of pa kimchi, and humming low in his chest when he scoops it into his mouth, like he’s picked up on Yoongi’s purring after so many years together.

“Good?” Yoongi asks as Namjoon chews. There’s sauce on Namjoon’s cheek, and Yoongi wipes it up with the edge of his thumb, not even flinching when Namjoon licks it off again, the oversized puppy he is.

“So good,” Namjoon says, reaching for more food before he’s even finished chewing his bite.

“Pace yourself, Joon-ah,” Yoongi reminds him with a soft laugh, “we still have dessert.”

Namjoon does not pace himself. He keeps on eating, starry-eyed. “I can’t believe you bought a bungeoppang pan.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Boredom and disposable income cause me to do a lot of things.”

It would explain the waffle maker, the immersion circulator, the pasta roller, and the little gut that’s just started poking at the front of Namjoon’s shirt.

It’s not totally Yoongi’s fault. Namjoon hasn’t really been rail-thin since they were still university students living on a ramyeon budget and denying their feelings for each other. He has a big appetite, as evidenced by the quick work he’s making of his next portion of meat, already almost finished with his rice. He’s probably three times as physical as Yoongi with the whole bike thing, and Yoongi’s always been slim but soft. So technically the pudge that sits over the waist of Namjoon’s pants isn’t on Yoongi, even if Yoongi likes to take advantage of it.

(But even then, is it really taking advantage when Namjoon, the dog boy of all dog boys, loves getting his belly rubbed as much as Yoongi, loathe as he is to accept the cat making biscuits stereotype, loves to rub it?)

Namjoon eats all of his dinner, and when Yoongi realizes he made too much batter for two servings of bungeoppang, happily eats the extras too. And when he’s done eating and has moved onto cleaning the dishes because Yoongi did the cooking, Yoongi can’t help but plaster himself to his husband’s back, face buried in the scruff of his neck and hands crossed over his bloated stomach where it’s pressed against the rim of the sink.

“Affectionate tonight,” Namjoon chuckles, leaning his head to softly touch against the side of Yoongi’s. The pan he’s cleaning has been fully rinsed for a while, but both of them are too distracted to notice or care.

“Sue me,” Yoongi murmurs into the shoulder of Namjoon’s t-shirt. “You leave early and come home at night and I only have, like, four hours to spend with you every day.”

“It’s a good four hours, though.”

“Out of twenty-four,” Yoongi grumbles. When it startles a small, hiccupping laugh out of Namjoon, his little gut jumps and shakes a bit between Yoongi’s hands. “I fantasize about throwing your bike off of the fire escape sometimes.”

Namjoon covers Yoongi’s hands with his own, and the only thing keeping Yoongi from bristling at the wet touch is the sight of both of their hands placed over the swell of Namjoon’s stomach. He looks good, fuller like this. It suits him.

“You wouldn’t,” Namjoon says, stomach stretching out in a breath.

“I wouldn’t,” Yoongi confirms. “Only because I don’t want manslaughter charges for crushing a pedestrian with a bike.”

“Valid,” Namjoon laughs. His stomach shakes again, but this time, they both feel it. “I can bike less, take the bus so I can sleep in more with you. It’s starting to be too cold in the mornings anyway.”

Yoongi just half-purrs, kneading the softness between his hands. Namjoon’s moved his to turn the sink off, but he doesn’t stop Yoongi’s ministrations; in fact, he leans more into him, back arched, giving some more access to the lower half of his stomach that had been squashed against the sink. The bit of skin that’s stretching the waistband of his flannel PJ pants more than when he bought them.

“I’ll just have to figure out a way to exercise at home,” Namjoon’s saying when Yoongi can feel his ears flatten at the back of his head in displeasure.

“Why? Who are you trying to impress, hm?” he gripes, purring effectively stopped. One of his fingers has found its way to circle Namjoon’s belly button; deeper now, more flesh around it, his long finger sinks in halfway up to the second joint.

Namjoon laughs. His dimples are much more prominent now in cheeks that are also more prominent. The softening of his face has been so gradual that Yoongi only really notices now, with his head perched right beneath it, that Namjoon’s jawline is more obscured than the razor curve of their youth, and that he doesn’t have a double chin, not yet, but there’s definitely a little pocket of skin that’s just barely swelling up beneath the point of it.

His face has taken well to the weight. All at once, Namjoon looks both like the college kid Yoongi first fell for and the grown man he sees himself growing old with—and growing soft with, maybe, in Namjoon’s case.

“Guess the only person I’d want to impress is already impressed,” Namjoon says, lifting one hand from their shared spot on his stomach to gesture where Yoongi’s got his shirt rucked up, finger teasing at his belly button.

Yoongi lifts that same hand, instead taking a handful of bared, supple underbelly and giving it a teasing grab, just to watch the way the whole thing’s starting to develop a jiggle to it. Without two combined hours of biking every weekday, surely it’ll develop faster.

Not that Yoongi minds. In fact, whatever the opposite of minding is, that’s how he feels, tucking his hand back beneath the lowest curve of his husband’s paunch just to feel it quiver with Namjoon’s contented laugh.

#bts feederism #chubby bts #fat bts #chubby bt5 #fat bt5 #chubby namjoon #i reappear once a year to chuck a chubfic into the void #i genuinely do have 4+ wips i just cannot finish them to save my life

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frogstalavista · 9 months

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tummies tummies tummies tummies

Jungkookie tummy: big dominating lower belly. pushes out of clothes in a big roll and demands attention.

Namjoonie tummy: doubled and thick. firm on the top. supple on the bottom. Could bounce off of it like a beer gut. Enters the room before he does.

Hobi tummy: perky and playful. bouncy. Always craves food.

Yoongi tummy: flabby and hangs heavily. slaps against his thighs when he walks. pear shape.

Taehyung tummy: stacks and stacks of rolls. side rolls to be adored like a temple. stretch marks.

Jimin tummy: pure jiggle all around his waist. Squishes at the slightest touch. Love handles. wobbles from tummy pats.

Jin tummy: Apple. Round. big well-loved boy. soft and so good for snuggles. engulfs whoever he is hugging.

YES BUT IM POSTING THE REST GRADUALLY SINCE MY WRIST HURTSSSS 💕💕💕

#namjoonscutetummy #fat bt5

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jjksdiorcum · 1 year

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⸸⠀ ⠀ֺ⠀ ⠀𖤝‌ ⠀𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝘺 ៸ ── 新着

𝒩. ( 𝗇𝗈𝖺𝗁 ) 🄯⠀𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍⠀؛

A very fat Jungkook with a jumpsuit that is taken to the field fair and exhibited as the cute little pig he is.

People swirl around them, pinching his cheeks and congratulating Jimin for the good work of fattening him. The pig looks so plump and well fed! Jungkook is offered homemade food and cakes, which of course they can't refuse, since he is so overwhelmed by all the attention.

At the end of the fair, Jungkook undoubtedly increased a few pounds in his already very large body, obviously tightening the seams of his overalls.

⸸⠀ ⠀ֺ⠀ ⠀𖤝 ⠀history ៸ ── 新着

- Hyung, can you pass me that cheesecake? The people in the contest have very good cakes, but they are too small...

- I thought you would eat them when you got home, little pig...

Well, this little pig is hungry.

Jungkook is simple fat, he filled up, and he loves it. He loves to be too full and gassed, he loves to earn a pound every day by overeating. He loves to be fat, he loves all the weight on him.

Touching Jungkook's soft belly brings him another cheesecake that he was given at the fair.

- You've become a little rounder recently.

Approaching behind Jungkook while he is eating, crushing his belly and telling him that he looks cute with all the weight he has gained. Every day it gets closer to not being able to be the same again. It's not like he used to be thin, Jungkook is a pig hybrid, he has natural fat overflowing from his gluttonous belly. Every week he sinks deeper into gluttony, and greed.

Clapping him on the belly after it is full of his food and saying: - You have a lot of appetite. Huh?

- I could devour the fridge and all these cakes right now.

Jungkook was exhausted to be honest, he spent the whole day receiving hundreds of people who came to recognize him, receiving delicious gifts that he could not eat! Not until now.

- I thought we would go to the party that the mayor organized for you.

- You can go your Hyung, frankly I don't like those things.

Jungkook works hard to condition himself. Every day you look for a body stretched to the limit with fat, you are conditioning yourself. He is, little by little, normalizing the idea of fighting under his own weight. Reach an agreement with this lifestyle that he has secretly always wanted.

Look at another of his thin brothers while he desperately looks at the cake in front of him, wanting to give up your body to experience the gluttony he gave off.

Keep looking. Keep fantasizing. Keep talking and sharing how far away you are.

It's making it easier for him. Easier for your husband and caregiver. Eating with reckless abandonment is natural for him when it is the most prominent thought in that head he has.

I don't like to leave you alone. This cabin is... You know, I don't want to be ungrateful but Mayor Kim knew you were coming and still chose the largest cabin with the narrowest corridors.

- It's very small Hyung. - Tarareo. - I don't think I got up from this couch for a while. And when you come back completely drunk we can have some fun.

Jimin laughs sliding his hand on his chest to slowly approach the minor and give a short kiss on his lips, lips completely bathed in chocolate sauce and cheese crumbs.

- I'll be here after midnight. Will you be okay for so long, little pig?

- I have a long list of pending issues.

- I love you, you know, don't you?

Jimin evaded any type of situation that did not involve the round lips of cherry-colored jungkook, marking soft and tender kisses between harsh ruthless bites.

- Hurry up, Mr. Wolf, or the magic will end before you can pick up your glass shoe.

Jimin laughed and nodded slowly, took his sack and after two other cloying prayers he left the cabin in which her husband stayed.

Jungkook didn't even really notice it, he was too busy trying to reach his next piece of cake when a huge ball of fat pierces him on the way. Cheese pie, blackberry, strawberry, apple, chocolate suffle, vanilla cakes, red velvet. The people had worn out with the gifts. By the time he reached the third individual cake, his greed was already making him growl and moan for more. The pig hybrid took the wooden spoon for the last time and licked the last chocolate topping in which it is throwing it away.

He cleaned the cake tray and after a long sigh dragged him next to the tip of the table where he was swallowing a really worrying amount of cakes. With the free path he buried his hands in the loose dough, sticky and viscous covered with marshmallows and sweet chocolate glaze, he put his first hand in his mouth and then the next, and so on, consecutively, taking large handfuls of cake, bristling and dirty around with each bite, his belly bulges under that large jumpsuit with the name of Jimin' His huge intestine begins to pull down and Jungkook wiggles his hips to take a more comfortable position, pressing against his drowned cock under thousands capable of fat.

And so the following cakes, the jet begins to lick the corners on its leaves with its face full of jam and chocolate, between heavy gasps. With his semi-clean hands, he begins to rub his big belly in slow and deep circles.

It was so full that it can barely move, only now it wants to leave the uncomfortable dining chair in which it is for the sofa. The best thing is to move, although he wonders if he can sit far enough to stand, not to mention that your overloaded instinct gets in the way. So involved in sagging, he hadn't realized the effort it would take to move his fat ass off the dining room table. Eventually, with a little gasp and whining, he manages to get up and make his mess on the couch. He collapses with a sigh, immediately trapped by his belly, rubbing it in an attempt to alleviate the overwhelming feeling of fullness. He is surprised how windy you are, how out of breath he is. But he did it. - I'm really going to get fat if I keep eating like that.

Step by step, bite by bite, the jet remembers how many times it has mentioned that. "I'm starting to get a little fat. I should try to lose some weight." "Let it be clear that it's only because you like me fat." "That piece of chicken really inflamed me a little." "I won't eat that way again." "I'm not even that fat." "I think my clothes shrunk in the washing machine."

As he continues to rub his wide ocean of fat, you hear a small click on the ground and look down - after the large lump of fat. - to see a rotating button that rests slowly at his feet. His swollen belly sinks through the space in the line of his hips in his overalls, Jungkook had torn his waistband a month ago and Jimin had patched the sides of the 5xl overalls with a pair of buttons that Jungkook had just broken. It had ruined the damn safety strip that, together with the seams of this one, which fit perfectly less than a month ago. His checkered shirt also tries to rise but Jungkook tries to lower the shirt to cover the space, but his belly is too low and continues to rise to the navel, his face turns red but proud and tries to suffocate a joke. - I will really get fat.

Hypothetically... It's almost too full. He has made sure of it. He relaxes on the sofa, a soft stretched t-shirt shown through his growing medium; a subtle dent in the fabric around his navel and a couple of inches of overhang of mass on the screen indicate that the days of this shirt are numbered, but he likes it. Maybe I could rush the process and check the fridge, just to have a sandwich and go straight to bed for when Jimin arrives.

You just can't help it, can you? It's not just that he likes fatty foods. It's just that being a glutton actually excites him. He is a full-fledged hedonist. He is so obsessed with the pleasure that filling his face with foods that make you fat until you can barely move is irresistible. No wonder he's getting fat. Every pound he earns is just another failure of his willpower, only another defeat in the face of his desires, and he will go down that path until he is a huge and shaken fat man. It makes him think that someone like Jimin could be quite dangerous for your figure, he knows everything about farm animals, their instincts, weaknesses, because Jimin knows what he wants. He knows that he likes to think that Jungkook has control of simism, and in all other aspects of whether life is but, deep down, he is really an indulgent and gluttonous pig, and he wants nothing more than for Jimin to put fattening food in his mouth until he becomes an obese and overworked cow.

He settles in all other ways, but when it comes to pleasure, he can't help but greedily please each of his cravings. All that would be needed is a bad influence like Jimin, someone who wants to surround him with foods that fatten, and tempt him, and see how his willpower completely fails in the face of his desires, and he would be totally defenseless. With all his most hegemonic desires enabled, he became the obese pig that he was always destined to be, and eventually his growing body would make him as physically defenseless as his willpower does mentally: in a short time he would be trapped under his massive and growing intestine, trapped in his soft and heavy body, the consequences of all his indulgences that weighs him He would look It's not that he can help himself. Jungkook was not someone who refused his animal instincts, he gave himself large baths of naked mud during the hot afternoons, sunk in the wet earth while only the swollen crest of his belly peeked out of the surface, Jimin approached his funnel to keep him satisfied, while Jungkook remained stuck on the edge of his pen.

But now, it was very hot and he didn't have his large farm with him, and the heat was overwhelming. Hypothetically...

He couldn't help but feel impatient right now, maybe it was his fault for having such a wide belly rubbing against his fat-greasy cock. It's probably one of the most difficult feelings that a big yam pig like Jungkook has. It is clear that it must already be quite full. And it is clear that he has eaten enough today to make sure that he continues to slide to wake up getting fatter and fatter every morning. But... impatience. Accumulation. That voice in his head... He wants more.

Make him eat more. Force him. You have to do it.

Scattered in the living room. His mouth hung lazily open, his eyes squinting and a heavy arm that is weakly approaching his belly. He did very well today; Jimin would tell him. He has eaten a lot. Offering a bite of food wouldn't hurt, it's just not too full.

The feeling of eating again after a big snack, maybe breaking the overalls and releasing the tension that hung on his belly from the denim fabric and seeing how it spilled on his lap. A small moan as he prays for more food knowing that he almost didn't have to be satisfied.

So Jungkook makes a small jump to accommodate his ass on the edge of the sofa, with his huge and heavy belly separating his knees to the side and tries, again and again, it was about ten minutes trying to get up, Jungkook makes his head back and looks for more oxygen than he needs and finally gets up, he walks like a pregnant fat duck drowning wet burps by Three other relatives, he still had white frosting and chocolate on his face, but he wanted more.

He drags a chair from the dining room and goes straight to the stressed hallway of the fridge and the kitchen countertop, Jimin didn't lie about how narrow the corridors of the cabin were, that doesn't stop him and he crawls through the "narrow" part of the kitchen until he reaches the fridge and sticks his fat ass in the wooden chair that creaked under him A pot of grated macaroni full of cheese, he ate, ate and ate until it's too difficult to even think about getting up. His belly is now tight at the top but hanging pure fat at the bottom, swaying with every deep breath he takes.

He has to lie down, even then it takes effort, to be comfortable. But he can only think more about it... what if he could fit in a little more? Jungkook licks the pot of cheese and returns it to the fridge, another cracker warns him again but he keeps looking. He is sure that there has to be something... so he swings and grunts when he climbs and falls back into the chair that manages to resist him, but not his poor overalls that bursts the buttons on his shoulders and his belly spreads to his knees, Jungkook tries to hide blush on his plump cheeks and tries to lower his checkered shirt, it is

I was starving.

One more could not hurt.

One more bite, One more piece, One more plate, One more meal, One more pound...

That's just a little more. In fact, it's nothing. I couldn't do any harm, could I? So keep saying yes to just one more. He ignores the accumulation of all those small indulgences and concentrates on the next gift instead. There is always room for one more, take a turkey and cheese sandwich, a bucket of fried chicken, large tablespoons of yesterday's leftovers such as noodles and fried rice, until you finish the whole fridge, just leaving a large whipped cream cake, dragging his fat arms to the bottom of the fridge, Jimin should have hidden it for tonight but Jungkook really couldn't control himself, And catch it. Then the chair gave way and its entire structure collapsed under the jet.

Jungkook curses when he is literally stuck between wooden debris, the countertop and the fridge, there was a thin line between being a gluttonous pig to an obese pig that broke furniture and got stuck between the corridors, the hybrid tries in vainly to raise his arms and push his body upwards while the large mass of fat wiggles before in motion taking out a

After calming his breathing, he finally accepts it, all the snacks and frequent binges, if maybe he may have gained a little weight. He turns his head looking for a way to get up, he could easily spend the night there if it were not for the remains of wood sunk in his fat, but instead he observes the pastel slipped on the ground, the bitumen in the brown mosaics which is painful to see, he can not move, he fucking he can't but still tries to roll and manages to He tilts to the cake and takes it.

This is bad.

He didn't have a chance. He may have grown up thinking that he would be able to resist the temptations of gluttony and hedonism, but here he is, too fat to even turn his head, completely lost by his desires and shit he loves it so much. When Jimin offered him the opportunity to give up all responsibility and become the huge pig he is, here he is, eating, lazing about being a big fat fair pig while you barely realize that he has really gained weight, but as long as you enjoy the feeling of being full, that's all that matters.

By the time Jimin got home a little drunk, he only found Jungkook with the few pieces of fabric stuck in his thighs, covered with cake and sauce, on his back.

- Aww little pig, where did this big, heavy belly come from? You must really be eating well." He says as he puts another sugary sandwich in his mouth.

#chubby bt5 #fat bt5 #fat jungkook

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chubbypinkminnie · 2 years

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Want something soft?

Seokjin stared down at the younger, reaching his hands into his dark hair. Yoongi practically melts into his touch. Soft sounds fall out of his mouth.

Seokjin cooed, leaning down to kiss his head.

“My chubby kitten. Look at you… so needy and all you do is wait so prettily.”

Yoongi nods in response, grabbing Seokjin’s hand and pulling it to hold his face. He rests his softened cheek into Seokjin’s cupped hand, enjoying the warmth which radiates into his skin. Seokjin can’t help but smile, placing his other hand to the opposite side. He uses his thumbs to rub small circles on Yoongi’s cheeks, watching as a slight blush starts to rise.

Yoongi’s eyes meet his, tension from his body releasing.

“Hyung…” His voice is soft - speaking yearningly. “Work was so hard… M so hungry.”

Seokjin smiles, leaning down and kissing his head again.

“You mean.. staying at home while i worked was hard?” There’s no malice behind his words, just adoration for the shorter man.

Yoongi just nods his response, reaching up for a full embrace. Seokjin easily accepts. He sits next to him, pulling him close and holding him to his chest. He can feel Yoongi’s ears twitch against his chin, fluttering under each slow breath. Seokjin’s hands allow themselves to wander, grazing Yoongi’s soft skin and squeezing his pliant fat.

Yoongi mewls, pushing himself impossibly closer into Seokjin’s chest.

“Hyung..” He breathes out, “I love you..” His words trail off sleepily.. their previous silence wrapping them in sweet comfort.

“ I love you more Yoongi-ah.” Seokjin soothes, petting his hair. It elicits a soft yet deep purr from Yoongi’s chest.

#bts feederism #chubby bt5 #chubbypinkminnie #fat cat boy #fat bt5 #fat yoongi #soft jin #soft feederism

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chubbychecksjiminii · 2 years

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Lil babe and his cute tummy

#chubby #chubby kink #chubby art #chubby belly #my art #belly kink #fat art #fat belly #round belly #getting fatter #fat kink #weight gain kink #weight gain #stuffed belly #chubby bt5 #fat bt5 #weight gain bt5 #stuffing

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biggjoonie · 2 years

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what about really big Seokjin who loves a cafe but frequently gets stuck in their chairs and is also worried that they wont be able to go there anymore bc they are almost completely immobile and they also wont be able to see their crush (yoongi) who works there

As a barista, this one rlly got me ehehe

it got kinda long so i put a lot of it under a read more, enjoyyyyy

The cafe atmosphere is something Seokjin has always adored. The smell of fresh coffee and pastries, the quiet ambiance, the little tables that get just the right amount of sunlight....the cute barista that always gives him a big smile every time he comes in.

He loves it so much, but there's one problem: Seokjin is not by any means a small man, in fact, he's huge. Massive. Morbidly obese in the sense that he can barely walk anymore. Every time he walks into the cafe now he is huffing and puffing as if he just ran a marathon. The walk from the parking lot to the cafe probably isn't even 100 steps. Another problem is that he can barely fit in his car anymore, in fact, he's surprised he can even manage to fit himself in there at all. All of his fat is bunched up against the door and he overflows into the passenger seat, the steering wheel presses up against his gut and he can barely move it. Frankly, Seokjin driving is probably a safety hazard at this point.

Fitting in his car isn't his only struggle. The cafe door is a bit narrow, not for any of the other customers, just Seokjin. Every time Seokjin waddles through those doors, he spends upwards of three minutes trying to squeeze himself through that tiny threshold.

And don't even get him started on the chairs. Is it too much to ask for chairs that don't have armrests? He can barely fit in them anymore, in fact, debatably, he can't fit in them now. But he always manages to get in there, even if it takes him forever to get out.

The cute barista (his name is Yoongi, he wears a nametag that is very cutely decorated) never makes him walk up to the counter to order, which Seokjin appreciates. Instead, once Seokjin is seated, Yoongi walks up to his table and asks if he'll have his usual.

Seokjin's usual is an extra large iced white mocha latte, heavy cream instead of milk and four extra pumps of white mocha with extra whipped cream and one of every pastry they have.

Seokjin always gives him an out of breath smile and nod while Yoongi gets to work making his order.

Today, Seokjin got there a little early which means they have a lot more pastries than usual. Once he manages to fit himself into one of the small chairs, Yoongi comes up to him with a big grin on his face.

"The usual today?" Yoongi asks.

Seokjin waits for his wheezing to settle before smiling and nodding.

"We have more options than usual, still one of each?"

Seokjin appreciates him asking, it's nice that Yoongi notices the small things like how many pastries usually comes in his order. Seokjin nods again, "And add in one of those sausage sandwiches too, I'm pretty hungry today." He rests his hands on his empty belly.

Yoongi's face goes a little red, "of course, it'll be right out!" And he scurries off to get started.

Seokjin waits patiently, heavy breath never settling. The regulars who also come here are used to his large presence, but he can always feel the stares of the newcomers. No one ever comes up to him, but he can feel the judgement. He doesn't mind anymore. Seokjin has gotten quite used to the way people see him. He's perfectly happy the way he is. Well... besides the fact that he may have to stop coming here soon. He's getting way too big, and he's afraid he'll break a chair or fall or something soon. Going anywhere is a struggle for Seokjin now, he wants to get bigger but it means he'll have to give up some of the things he loves.

...it means he'll also stop seeing Yoongi.

Seokjin sighs, looking at the way his shirt is ridding up. He can't even find clothes that fit anymore, he knows that by the end of this meal his shirt will go even higher, pants even tighter, he's surprised he even manages to find pants that cover his belly--albeit poorly.

Soon enough, Yoongi is approaching the table with his first trayful of food. It always takes at least two trips to get everything on the table. Yoongi sets down the drink first, it looks amazing as always, then he goes to setting down the food. Seokjin notices three sausage sandwiches along with all the pastries.

Yoongi must notice Seokjin staring at the extra food, he holds the tray cutely and scratches the back of his head, "the sandwiches aren't very filling so I thought you'd want more than one, they're on me, don't worry."

Seokjin wheezes out a laugh, "what, are you trying to fatten me up?" He asks jokingly.

Yoongi's face goes redder than it had been before, "no! I just--customers sometimes order another one because it wasn't enough to fill them and--"

"I'm joking," Seokjin grins, "thank you, they definitely won't go to waste."

And Yoongi darts off to get the rest of his order.

Seokjin is pretty hungry, he definitely needs this.

He's already downed two of the sandwiches and a little less than half of his coffee by the time Yoongi comes back with the second round. The table is entirely filled.

Instead of going back behind the counter like usual, Yoongi lingers, "I'm, uh, on my break...can I sit with you?" He asks, this is the first time this has happened.

Seokjin nearly chokes, "yeah! Of course, sit down!"

With jagged movements, Yoongi pulls out the chair across from the large man. The way he fits in it...well... the contrast must look hilarious, someone as big as Seokjin who is overflowing the chair, legs probably bending, sitting with Yoongi who is so small that two of him could fit in the same spot.

"You can have some of the pastries if you want," if it were anyone else, Seokjin definitely wouldn't have offered to share.

Yoongi shakes his head, "no, you're really hungry, right? You probably need this."

Seokjin shoves the last of the sausage sandwich into his mouth, stifling a burp. He grunts as he leans forward to pick up one of the pastries, barely reaching it.

He can tell that Yoongi is trying his best not to stare, taking a glance and then quickly looking away. Seokjin wonders if Yoongi is disgusted by him, but if he were then why would he want to sit with him?

One by one the pastries in front of him disappear, he has to start leaning further to reach the ones on the other side of the table. Unfortunately, Seokjin’s massive gut gets in the way and he ends up pushing the table forward with his belly, right into Yoongi.

“I’m so sorry!” Seokjin says, embarrassed.

But Yoongi just smiles sweetly, unfazed, as he pushes all the plates toward Seokjin instead. “It’s okay, sorry I didn’t realize you couldn’t reach this far,” he doesn’t sound judgmental, just as sweet as usual.

“Thank you...” Seokjin says quietly, he leans forward again and that’s when his shirt finally rolls up, exposing even more of his belly. He tries not to be embarrassed by that as well, just continuing on and shoving part of a muffin in his mouth. He goes to take the last drink of his coffee, sucking as hard as he can until he can’t get any more liquid through the straw. Without even thinking, he lets out a loud burp of contentment. He can feel the heavy cream doing it’s job, making him bigger.

“Do you want another? I’ll pay for it,” Yoongi says, which alerts Seokjin. Seokjin had been so absorbed in it he forgot he was there.

“Oh, um—”

“You still have quite a bit of food left, you need something to wash it down, right?”

And, well, Yoongi does have a point, “you’re right,” Seokjin admits, “Another extra large? This time with carmel drizzle?”

Yoongi looks so excited by his answer as he stands up and goes to the register, ordering it from his coworker. It takes a few moments and Yoongi waits by the pickup bar. In the meantime, Seokjin has time to lick what he can of his old cup clean and shoving another pastry down his throat.

When Yoongi comes back, the cup somehow looks bigger than the one he had before. Not that Seokjin minds. That caramel drizzle looks heavenly.

“Thank you,” Seokjin says, mouth watering.

Seokjin finishes off the pastries about ten minutes later, sucking down the drink as well. It was incredible, not as good as when Yoongi makes it, but definitely good enough to hit the spot. His belly is so hard, pants straining in a way that Seokjin is afraid they’ll burst.

“Well, my break is over,” Yoongi admits sadly.

“Oh,” Seokjin looks at the table, all the trash solely from him, “I should probably get going, too.”

Which means...he’ll have to stand up.

He braces himself, can feel Yoongi’s eyes on him, as he pushes the table forward, grasps onto the sides of the chair, and pulls himself up.

Except, like usual, he’s stuck.

“Shit,” Seokjin curses. He’s already out of breath. He really overdid it today, but how could he not when a cute boy was offering all this to him? He tries again, using all his strength, he almost gets an inch out of the seat before falling back.

There it is, he hears the legs of the chair crackle as they bend under his weight.

“Do you need help?” Yoongi asks.

Seokjin wheezes, sweat beading...well...everywhere, “Probably.”

The skinny man is next to him in an instant, “I’ll hold down the chair while you stand up?”

Seokjin nods, but he’s so tired, he doesn’t know if he’ll be able to get up at all without a rest.

He has to try though, Yoongi is there. So he does, he musters up all his strength and sways himself forward. As he forces himself forward, he hears a snap--

then his gut is spilling out of his pants and making itself at home by pooling on the ground.

“Fuck,” it’s just as embarrassing as it is hot.

The entire cafe goes silent.

Seokjin's favorite sweatpants are ruined now, and he has to drive home like this. He has to get out of the cafe and stuff himself into his car with his huge gut out in the open.

With as embarrassing as this is, all eyes on him as he breathes heavily, his huge belly falling forward has allowed some wiggle room in the chair. Since his pants aren't making him expand so much outwards anymore, he's able to grunt and sway himself forward. It's still a tight fit and still takes him several tries even with the help of Yoongi, but eventually he gets up.

As soon as he's standing, he feels light headed. His belly, hanging low in front of him, isn't going to do anything to help him walk.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks, concerned.

Seokjin takes a moment to speak and when he does it comes out in a wheeze, "I think," wheeze, "I'll need help," wheeze, "getting to my car." Every inch of his body is covered in sweat, he can feel the pit stains through his shirt, his hair is dripping as if he took a shower.

But Yoongi still looks at him so sweetly, "I'll help you," the barista goes over to the counter to let his coworker know what he's doing before coming back. Even within those thirty seconds Seokjin felt like he was going to fall.

Yoongi holds onto Seokjin's sweaty arm and asks him to take a step forward....

which is a big task for Seokjin.

He manages to do it but everything in and on his body is fighting against him. When they make it to the door, Seokjin knows he's in trouble.

"Do you want to push or pull?" Seokjin asks Yoongi, he's surprised the man even understands him considering how out of breath he is.

"If I push will you fall?"

And that...is a very good question.

"I think I'll be okay," Seokjin decides.

Yoongi nods and opens the door for Seokjin to start squeezing himself through. He turns sideways and starts inching himself through the door. Almost immediately he's brushing the doorframe. Usually, his pants do a good job of containing his belly, making him wider and helping him slide through doors sideways but now that his belly is fully out, well, he gets wedged in the door sooner than usual.

The wood digs into his exposed belly, barely budging as he tries to force himself out.

Then he feels Yoongi's hands on him.

It's a heavenly experience and he would have been able to appreciate it more if he hadn't been stuck in a public doorway.

He can tell that Yoongi is trying to he gentle, which of course isn't helping all.

"You have to push harder," Seokjin grunts, he's so out of breath he feels light headed.

"But what if it hurts you?" Yoongi asks, worried.

Seokjin tries to suck in, but it does next to nothing, "if it doesn't hurt then I'll be stuck in this door forever."

That seems to do the trick and gets Yoongi to push harder. It hurts, Seokjin can feel the wood scraping against his poor belly, but it has to be done. Yoongi is grunting and out of breath and Seokjin feels a bit bad knowing he's causing this trouble for him.

Eventually, Yoongi takes a step back, resting his hands on his hips. He's sweating, but again he doesn't look fazed or judgemental.

"Can I touch your belly?"

The question throws Seokjin off. Yes, he would love for Yoongi to touch his aching, over stuffed belly, rub it and kiss it—

"I think if I hold it back you'll be able to get through."

"O—oh," Seokjin squeaks, flustered, "yeah, that might work."

Yoongi's warm, thin hands are on Seokjin's belly in an instant. It feels heavenly. Even as he begins to push as hard as he can to hold back the fat, Seokjin relishes in the touch. Even with the situation he's in, he selfishly doesn't want it to end.

After that it takes a couple minutes, but it doesn't take as long as if Seokjin were left to get out of there on his own. When they get to the last push, Seokjin feels so tired that he might collapse. That would make things even harder. He's wheezing so hard that it's difficult to breathe and when Yoongi gets to that last push, surprisingly, he keeps a grip on Seokjin.

"Yoongi," Seokjin wheezes, "I don't know if I'll make it to my car."

Yoongi looks around a bit panicked and then eyes lock on something, "there," he points a couple steps away, "sit on that bench until you regain some strength and I'll get you some water."

Sure enough, there is a bench right by the parking lot. Somehow, Seokjin has never noticed it. He must have been too focused on making it to the cafe. Yoongi guides Seokjin to it. It's so difficult for him to walk now. Seokjin doesn't have the strength to lower himself down so he plops as hard as he can, it creaks but it holds his weight. He knows he takes up the majority of it, if he were to shift a little bit over then maybe Yoongi would be able to sit with him. However, Yoongi comments again that he's going to get Seokjin water and is off.

God, Seokjin is so fat. His belly is resting on the rough concrete and he can feel himself soaked in sweat. He wonders how he smells. His poor body is so tired from the activity he just put it through.

Soon enough, Yoongi comes back with a cup of water and... a couple pastries.

The barista blushes as Seokjin eyes them.

"That was a lot of work for you, you must have worked up an appetite," He steps forward, offering the water and food.

Very willingly, Seokjin takes it, "I wasn't gonna say anything, but I am a little peckish now," he chuckles. Before even drinking water, he stuffs one of the pastries in his mouth. Seokjin hums in contentment before washing it down with water and then repeating with the couple other pastries Yoongi brought along.

Eventually, both run out and he's left with crumbs all over him and an empty cup. He rests his hands on his big belly and looks at Yoongi.

"I don't know if I'll be able to continue coming here," Seokjin admits.

That catches Yoongi off guard, his eyes go wide, "what? Why?"

Seokjin chuckles, "I mean, look at what happened today. Yoongi, I've gotten so fat, this'll just keep happening," he sighs, "I barely fit in my car anymore either, if it weren't for you, I probably would have permanently stayed at home a long time ago."

"I mean—if you want to lose weight then—"

Seokjin laughs, "that's my point, I don't want to lose weight," he hums, "in fact, I want to get bigger."

Yoongi flushes, “o—oh,” he doesn’t necessarily look off put by it, more flustered and...there’s this soft smile on his face that Seokjin thinks is incredibly cute.

“Yeah,” Seokjin pats his belly and watches it jiggle, “so...I probably won’t be able to go anywhere soon.”

“So you’ll be stuck at home?” Yoongi asks.

The thought of Seokjin being confined to his home makes the large man giddy, “yeah.”

“Do you have a roommate? Or someone that can bring you food?”

Seokjin already has a plan for all of it, he came up with it quite awhile ago—immobility has always been his end goal. “I have some friends who have agreed to help out, no roommate though.”

Yoongi’s hands are fisted in his shirt, he’s squirming and gnawing at his lip, “well, my lease is up soon...if you’re...y’know, looking for a roommate.”

Seokjin’s mouth falls open, his double chin protruding even more.

“J—just a suggestion!” Yoongi immediately says, as if he said something wrong, “and I could still bring you pastries and drinks and...” he trails off, his face is the color of a tomato.

Seokjin clears his throat, gives himself a moment to compose himself. Then, with a smile, he says, “I would love having you as a roommate, Yoongi.”

#seokjinnie gets so fat he can't even move anymore once yoongi starts taking care of him <3 #I kind of wanted to continue this and write about seokjin being immobile and messy but figured this was a long enough oneshot alreadt #and it was pretty soft so i didn't want to add anything too Kinky #thank u for readingggg and requestingggg #bt5 f33derism #chubb y s3okj1n #f1c

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trivialovehandles · 1 year

Note

Omg Pls can you do an either taekook/ jikook squashing

Where Jungkook is gaining weight fast after eating something and suddenly he’s squashing his bf

ngl squashing is a lower-tier kink for me so this is maybe more focused on the rapid wg aspect but? so fun to write (ao3 link! i will be putting all request fics here as well)

Jimin’s learned throughout the years that Jungkook coming home looking sheepish and excited is either a very good thing (see: the day he came home with a puppy who is now no longer a puppy and is currently napping next to the refrigerator) or a very bad thing (see: the day he came home with a bunch of stuff to do stick-and-poke tattoos and now they each have the Hangul for each other’s names on their left ass cheeks forever).

When he breezes through their apartment door today, he’s clearly trying to hide it, but Jimin’s known him long enough to see the telltale signs: his teeth clamped on his lower lip, the excited way he covers his ears with his hands, and the way he keeps spacing out, like he’s thinking of something else.

Jimin doesn’t push for now, too busy finishing their dinner, but he’s sure by the time they’re done eating that Jungkook won’t be able to keep holding it back anyway. Instead, he accepts the kiss Jungkook gives him on his way to change out of his work clothes and pinches his hip affectionately as he leaves.

And he’s right: Jungkook’s only halfway through his first serving of bibimbap when he can’t take it anymore.

“So I found something today,” he says with a mouthful of meat and rice, like the thought couldn’t wait until he swallowed.

Jimin places his chopsticks gently back down so he can give his clearly excited boyfriend his undivided attention. “Oh?”

Jungkook doesn’t stop eating as he talks. “At the pharmacy, when I was getting those blister pads for you—”

Not a very appetizing moment to be reminded of the blisters from his new pointe shoes, but Jimin nods anyway.

“I saw”—Jungkook starts to dig through the oversized pockets of his cargo pants, rattling beneath the table—“these supplements.”

What he pulls out is a small bottle that can’t be holding more than four or five pills. The label has bold writing, terrible graphic design honestly, but Jimin squints across the table and sees GAIN WEIGHT FASTER written beneath the brand name and raises a curious brow.

For the couple of months they’ve been experimenting with Jungkook’s burgeoning weight gain kink and Jimin’s growing love for seeing, well… his love growing, progress has been slow-going. Jungkook laments his current skinny-fat phase near-daily; he wants to be big already, not having to settle for taking it one measly kilo at a time, and there’s only so much Jimin can do to help his boyfriend get extra calories, short of inedibly drowning their food in oil.

Truthfully, Jimin thinks Jungkook looks cute at his current weight, soft and pudgy and barely erring on the side of plump, just bigger enough for it to be a bit noticeable when he’s fully clothed, but he’s also a firm supporter of his boyfriend’s happiness and would never begrudge having more Jungkook, so he plays along. He’s heard of these dubiously legal supplements that claim to make your appetite grow, your metabolism slow down, and the resulting weight flow to more desirable places. He’s fallen down that particular Instagram rabbit hole before—he doesn’t blame Jungkook for wanting to give it a try at least. And hey, good on him for grabbing what seems to be a trial size first. Sound financial decisions look good on a boyfriend.

Jimin leans back in his seat, picking up his chopsticks again. “So it’s like an appetite stimulant? A ‘take it and hope it makes you hungrier and fatter’ kind of thing?”

Jungkook twists the bottle between his fingers, squinting at the small label. “Not exactly. I grabbed it because… well, it made the results seem kind of… instant? Quicker, at the very least?”

He slides the bottle across the table so Jimin can read the label in full. No real drug facts, no specified ingredients, just the promise of quick weight gain, some brief directions, and a generic warning about abusing medication. Rattling in his hands, there really are only a handful of pills inside the glass, which is more like the size of a bottle of facial serum than any supplement Jimin’s ever seen before.

Jungkook fidgets in his seat, radiating nervous excitement. “They only sold them in these tiny bottles, and… I don’t know, I probably just got scammed, but that made it seem more legitimate to me, you know? Like I wouldn’t need to keep taking them all the time?”

Sliding the bottle back, Jimin asks, “Did you ask the pharmacist about them?”

Jungkook shakes his head with a laugh. “I did self-checkout. I wasn’t about to ask someone with a PhD if a sketchy pill was gonna make me fat.”

Jimin can’t help the small snort he lets out as he finishes the end of his dinner. That’s just like Jungkook: impulsive, determined, almost single-minded in his dedication to gain.

After dinner finds them in a familiar position: Jimin comfortable on the couch, Jungkook planted over his lap, the two of them kissing feverishly. Jungkook’s foregone his flannel shirt, shrugging it off before he sat down and now in just his cargos and the t-shirt he’d had beneath that’s well on its way to too small. Meaning that it is too small, but Jungkook insists it still works as an undershirt. Where the t-shirt had been form-fitting before, it now clings to the round distension that is Jungkook’s stomach, sliding up to offer glimpses of his pudgier hips and belly whenever he so much as slightly lifts his arms. He’s not as small as he complains he is, but Jimin’s not about to stop him from letting himself get bigger.

Which must be on Jungkook’s mind too, because as he pulls back from a kiss, the bottle he’d put back into one of his pants’ many, many pockets rattles. He grabs it with one hand, the other keeping Jimin’s in place beneath the stretched hem of his t-shirt, fingers dug into pudge.

“Do you think I should?” Jungkook asks, eyes wide. “It says to take one tablet within an hour of a meal. It’s been… what, 45 minutes?”

Jimin tilts his head, mostly listening while also appreciating the spillage of flesh between his fingers when he squeezes Jungkook’s hips in reply. “Wouldn’t hurt,” he says, pauses, and amends, “Well, might hurt, but we’ll see.”

Jungkook uncaps the bottle, and nothing happens: no hiss of smoke, no immediate waft of poison. He upends a single pill into his hand and looks long and hard at it. It’s just a plain white tablet, indistinguishable from the various painkillers and supplements in their medicine cabinet. He stares at it for a long moment, shrugs, and pops it into his mouth, washing it down with the last sips of his can of Coke from dinner.

And nothing happens. Jimin would know if it did, hands planted firmly on the belly that would be stretching further outward if these pills worked as instantly as Jungkook had hoped, but there’s no budge except for the contraction of muscles when Jungkook swallows his soda. He stares downward, poking himself in the stomach so his fingertip sinks into soft fat, and his shoulders slump.

“I don’t know why I thought it would be instant,” Jungkook grumbles.

Jimin shrugs, moving one hand from his boyfriend’s still-just-pudgy body to card through his curls. “It’s the ‘go big or go home’ in you,” he says, letting his fingers cup a chubby cheek, guiding their faces back together. “Come on, relax. We’ll wait it out, see if anything happens.”

They kiss again, slower. Jimin lets his fingertips keep mapping out the cushioned planes of Jungkook’s body, slipping under his t-shirt and lightly beneath his snug waistband. Jungkook’s skin feels warm to the touch, more than usual, and he keeps squirming, differently to the way he usually does when he’s getting worked up.

“You okay, Jungkookie?” Jimin asks against his heated cheek.

“M’just—ngh—really warm,” Jungkook grumbles, stretching his back this way and that so his belly bucks Jimin’s chest. “Feel kinda bloated.”

Jimin doesn’t notice at first that when Jungkook tugs his t-shirt back down, it doesn’t quite go all the way—he just slides his perpetually cold hands up the back of it, letting them chill the overwarm skin across Jungkook’s spine, pulling him in closer and closer. He doesn’t really notice, either, that the pressure on his thighs is growing stronger, just blindly assuming that Jungkook’s finally relaxed so more of his weight rests on Jimin than on his own legs.

Jimin doesn’t notice anything until Jungkook makes a small grunt above him at the same time his hands start struggling to meet around his middle.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, awed, a little pained. “Hyung, I think it’s—”

He doesn’t finish his thought, interrupted by a low whine that escapes his lips seemingly of its own volition. His belly juts forward, crowding his lap, pushing into Jimin’s torso, thick and heavy and so warm, so unnaturally warm that this can’t be anything but—

“It’s working,” Jimin finishes for him. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right,” Jungkook gasps as his already too-small shirt continues to slide up his expanding gut, seams straining as his body starts spilling—really spilling, his once-perkily taut stomach now beginning to sag onto his thighs with doughy fat—out of it. He squirms as if pinned down by the constant motion of his body growing outward, trying to scoot his hips backward but instead accidentally grinding down where Jimin’s dick is taking clear interest. “Hyung, hyung, help me get off you, you’re gonna get crushed.”

Jimin does no such thing. He stays put, hands on Jungkook’s ballooning waistline now that it’s all he can really reach without his arms being forced apart by the growth, and moves his hands in slow, deep ministrations. It seems to make Jungkook relax, panic easing as it really hits him what’s happening.

“Hyung, I’m… I’m getting so fucking fat. Look how I keep growing, keep swelling, keep getting fatter. Am I heavy? I bet I’m so fucking heavy on you.”

It’s punctuated with a low creak, the elastic waist of Jungkook’s cargo pants stretched to its limits until finally, the plastic button just barely holding them shut breaks free, careening across the room to clatter against the wood floor somewhere between the living area and the kitchen. Unbidden, the mass of his gut flows through the open V left in the button’s wake, no longer held back by rigid fabric, free to rest on his legs that have blown up to the point of his pants—baggy before—fitting like sausage casings.

And he is heavy—is, quote, so fucking heavy. By the time the stretch and swell of him slows to a halt, Jungkook has to be twice the size he was when he sat down. His shirt that hugged his chubby stomach now barely passes beneath his chest, filled out like a crop top, the seams at the sleeves strained and splitting from Jungkook’s arms that had previously still held some tone and definition now gone flabby. Between his thick arms and his chest grown into plump, protruding tits, his arms don’t lower the way they used to—not like it matters with how Jungkook’s hands map his own body, picking up the upper roll his now double belly and sliding his fat, dimpled hands into the crevice it makes between itself and his lower belly. A lower belly that hangs so far out of his pants that it’s flowing between stocky thighs and pinning Jimin right to the back of the couch.

Not that Jimin’s complaining. He was the one who didn’t budge when Jungkook tried to climb off of him a couple of minutes probably 45 kilograms ago. The weight of him is heavy and grounding and, shit, arousing. He’s been mostly into Jungkook’s weight gain kink in that he probably has a Jungkook kink, attracted to him at all times and all sizes, but a double-sized Jungkook pinning him to the couch… it’s doing a lot for him. He wonders if Jungkook can even feel how Jimin’s rock-hard against his blubbery overhang or if there’s just too much padding in the way.

“Jungkook-ah.” Jimin tugs at one of the many rolls of Jungkook’s stomach—because there are rolls big enough to tug with his whole hand now, to pull him closer. “Baby, lean forward.”

Jungkook, hazy-eyed, seemingly entranced into a fog by his body grown so fat so quickly, blinks heavily a few times. “What do you mean?”

“Lean forward,” Jimin repeats, pulling him in closer. The heavy thighs caging him in and the massive gut pinning his lower half to the back of the couch don’t feel like enough. He needs Jungkook all over him.

Jungkook gets it this time. Hesitantly, checking Jimin’s face beforehand and going gloriously red when Jimin nods and keeps guiding him forward, he leans his upper half against Jimin’s, holding him down further into the couch cushions. In his lap like this, Jimin’s face-height with Jungkook’s chest, his rucked-up t-shirt that pushes up even further with his movements, revealing his chest, fat tits that Jimin buries his face between, biting at the skin, swirling his tongue around a hardened nipple just to hear Jungkook groan in that pained ecstasy that means he’s really into it.

It’s not the easiest to breathe with what’s probably nearly three times his own weight pushing his body down, but it’s easy enough for Jimin to still get worked up, grinding up as much as he can despite the pressure, despite the mass that is now Jungkook jiggling and quivering on top of him. He didn’t start putting in more weightlifting and core-building time when Jungkook decided to get fat for nothing.

By the time Jimin’s seeing white, Jungkook’s emerging from his horny haze too, eyes clearer and more mischievous as he leans back, letting Jimin breathe again. Very deliberately, he’s lifting his gut, dropping it back down—massaging his chest—grabbing the hem of his t-shirt so that it rips straight down the middle with how strained the cotton has become.

Quickly, they catch each other in another kiss. It’s like before, but it’s not—still Jimin and Jungkook, still hot and heavy, but Jungkook keeps having to take breathers, unused to the new weight on his body, and so does Jimin, unused to the new weight on top of his body.

Pulling away, puffing and panting, Jungkook laughs, low and rumbling in a way that makes his whole belly undulate. “Do you think this effect is permanent?” he asks, curious, maybe a little hopeful.

“I don’t know,” Jimin gasps in reply, heart thrumming. “If it’s not, you have a few more pills left.”

A nod. “And if it is?”

Jimin blinks at him through heavy eyes. “Then you still have a few more pills left.”

#bts feederism #chubby bts #fat bts #chubby jungkook #fat bt5 #chubby bt5 #requests #i said i was going to write short request fics and then wrote over 2k... but hey it's still shorter than the 21 days fics

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