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jinsquish · 1 month

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woncheol with immobile wonwoo 👀😵‍💫

I hope you enjoy!

“Shit,” Wonwoo said as he looked at his phone. He was still catching his breath from the trip to the door and back to his scooter. Now he sat on the scooter, investigating why his food order, which he had been notified was at his door, was not at his door. The answer became clear when he noticed that the door number in the photo attached to his order was a number off. Panic set in as he realized that it was the unit exactly one floor above his. “Shit,” he said again.

He was wracking his mind, trying to figure out how to fix the situation. Given the amount of time it had taken him to get up from his bed, onto his scooter, and then walk the short distance to the door that his scooter was too wide for, the driver was likely long gone. And at his current weight, there was no way he’d be able to make it up the stairs to the second floor. Just as he was about to give up and put in a new order, there was a knock at his door. It startled him and he wondered who it might be. With a huff and a lot of effort, he once again stood from his scooter. Setting his phone in the small basket, he began the seven foot walk from his scooter to the door for the second time in less than 10 minutes—not a small feat for him at a whopping 750 pounds.

“One minute,” he said between breaths, reassuring the mystery person that he was, in fact, home. After finally reaching the door, he took a few breaths and felt a small wave of embarrassment wash over him. It had been a while since he’d interacted with anyone who was unaware of his size. He unlocked the door and opened it slightly to find a man outside his door holding two bags. Wonwoo’s eyes widened.

“H-hi,” the man said. “I think your order got delivered to my door. I just thought I’d bring it by,” he said with a smile. He lifted the bags and drew Wonwoo’s eyes to his defined biceps. This guy was hot. He realized that he needed to speak.

“Oh, thank you,” he said quickly. “I was just trying to figure out how to get a refund,” he said with a chuckle and small huff. The man chuckled as well. He held the bags forward and Wonwoo reached out for them.

“I’m Seungcheol, by the way,” the man said. “I just moved in about a month ago.”

“Oh, welcome. I’m Wonwoo,” he offered with a chuckle.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Seungcheol said with a smile that, to Wonwoo, looked shy. “Hopefully I’ll see you around.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” he said with a wave. He closed the door after Seungcheol turned around and took a few steps. His heart pounded, both from exertion and nerves. He wondered how much of him Seungcheol had seen, although his face would likely give away how big the rest of him was. The man hadn’t seemed too judgemental.

Wonwoo made his way back to his scooter and smiled to himself as he rode back to his bed, food in tow.

A week later, Wonwoo “accidentally” put in the wrong address for his order after spending three days figuring out how he could see the man again. He didn’t have his number and there was no way he was making it up the steps to knock on the man’s door himself. So, he figured this was the best way albeit slightly juvenile. He could only hope that Seungcheol was actually home. His worry began to set in as he realized that Seungcheol could very well not be home. There were two issues with that–first, he wouldn’t be able to see Seungcheol, and second, he was hungry. He sat on his scooter and stewed before he received a message that his order had been dropped off. His heart began to pound.

He rubbed his expansive gut to soothe his nerves. It gurgled and rumbled from nerves and hunger. He thought briefly of rolling into the kitchen for a snack when he heard a muffled sound of a door opening and closing above him. He tensed and his eyes widened as he began to hear steps coming down the stairs outside of his apartment. There were only a few moments before there was a familiar knock at his door that still managed to startle him. Already on his scooter a few feet from the door, he took a few moments to gather the momentum to stand and did so, using the handles from the scooter to steady himself. “Coming,” he said once he caught his breath.

Seungcheol smiled on the other side of the door with two bags in his hands.

“Looks like there was another mix up,” he said with a small laugh.

“Oh, thank you,” Wonwoo said, feeling himself blush. “They should really make the apartment numbers more obvious.” That was a total lie, seeing as they were right on the door for anyone to see.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol siad with a chuckle. He still held the bags and his expression changed a bit. “Um,” he said, moving to scratch his head but soon realizing that he couldn’t with the bag in his hand. “Well, I wanted to see if you’d like some company. I’m new to the area and haven’t met many of my neighbors yet.”

“Oh,” Wonwoo said, shocked that his plan had somehow worked–that or this man was a murderer with a perfect opportunity. “Of course. I’d love some company.”

Seungcheol smiled, some of the nervousness leaving his expression. Wonwoo moved to open the door and step back to let him in, revealing his full body for the first time. He wondered what Seungcheol thought of him, given that the man was trim and built, likely 600 pounds lighter than Wonwoo. As he turned to walk back to his scooter, Seungcheol followed him in, closing the door. Wonwoo walked slowly to his scooter, trying to suppress how out of breath he was getting.

“I–huff–use this scooter to get around,” he explained, as he sat down. He didn’t look back for Seungcheol’s reaction as he sat down and turned it on. He moved towards the couch and began to get up from his scooter to sit down on the well worn couch.

“You can–huff–take the chair, if you like,” he offered, motioning towards an armchair that he’d outgrown years ago.

“T-thank you,” Seungcheol said, sitting down and setting the food on the coffee table.

“Would you like a cheeseburger?” Wonwoo said as he began rifling through one of the bags.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to eat something you got for yourself,” Seungcheol said, waving his hands. Wonwoo smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty,” he said. He’d ordered extra just in case his plan worked out as it currently was. He handed the man a cheeseburger. He accepted it gratefully.

“So, what brings you to Seoul?”

“Work,” Seungcheol said after swallowing a bite. “I’m a personal trainer.”

Wonwoo stifled a grimace and felt himself begin to accept defeat, but resolved to enjoy the company anyways.

“Oh, nice,” he said. “I can definitely see that,” he said, giving the man a quick once over–a final flirting attempt, and then he would let it rest. The comment brought a blush to the man’s cheeks.

“Thank you,” he said, ducking his head a bit.

“Do you have a lot of clients?”

“I have a few so far, enough for how long I’ve been here,” he said before his expression changed a bit. “Why? Are you looking for a trainer?” The tone took Wonwoo by surprise because it wasn’t only flirty but it also held a sense of knowing.

“Not exactly,” Wonwoo said, matching the energy. “Believe it or not, I’m not actually looking to lose weight.”

“Oh?” Seungcheol looked somewhat surprised but not nearly as surprised as Wonwoo had expected.

“Yeah, I’ve been gaining weight for a while now,” Wonwoo explained.

“You’ve gotten pretty big,” Seungcheol said. He was holding his burger but not eating it. “Do you have a feeder?”

Wonwoo nearly spat out the bite he’d taken. A feeder? How did Seungcheol know about that?

“Um, no,” he said. “Not currently.” His cheeks burned and his heart pounded. There was a long pause between them before Seungcheol nodded and then spoke.

“Do you want one?”

Wonwoo was stunned.

“Y-you mean you?”

Seungcheol nodded, his face beet red. “I’m into big guys,” he explained.

“Well, I’m certainly that,” Wonwoo said. He set his burger down on his belly and rested his hands on sides. “Look, I’m nearly immobile and it’s something I’ve wanted for a long time. If that’s not something you’re comfortabl—”

“I–” Seungcheol interjected. “I would love to help you reach that goal.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol said more confidently. He rose and moved to sit on the small space left on the couch that Wonwoo sat on. “H-how much do you weigh now?”

Wonwoo felt himself getting hot. He could hardly believe the situation but the sincere look in Seungcheol’s eyes convinced him that it was real.

“758, the last I checked,” he said. “But that was a few weeks ago.”

“Fuck,” Seungcheol said under his breath. “You got this big all by yourself?”

“I had feeders here and there along the way,” Wonwoo explained. “But I’ve done the bulk of it myself.” He rubbed a hand over his belly before picking up the cheeseburger and stuffing it into his mouth. “I used to be really skinny.”

“Really?”

Wonwoo nodded. “I wanted to be big but I was too scared to actually gain weight. But then I went to college and decided to give in to my desires. I gained almost fifty pounds my freshman year.”

“How big were you when you graduated?”

“About 350 pounds,” Wonwoo said, tossing the wrapper onto the coffee table. “I got a really shitty job right out of school and all I could really afford was junk food, which luckily, was exactly what I needed to keep gaining.”

“I hit 500 at 28,” Wonwoo said, heaving slightly to reach forward for another burger. Seungcheol held a hand up and reached forward for him. He pulled two burgers from the bag and handed them to Wonwoo with a smile. Wonwoo took them and smiled, setting one on his belly and unwrapping the other. “After that, my mobility really started to slow down and I’ve been gaining pretty steadily since then.”

“Can you get around much? I mean, without your scooter,” Seungcheol asked, his expression full of morbid curiosity.

“Some,” Wonwoo said, taking a bite. “But not much. I really only walk to and from my scooter.”

Seungcheol licked his lips.

“Do you want some help with that?” He asked as Wonwoo began to unwrap the other burger.

6 months later

“Cheol,” Wonwoo huffed desperately as he stood from the couch. The older man grabbed his fleshy arm and steadied him. The man’s mobility had been seriously wavering in the last few days. He needed Seungcheol’s help more than ever, just to stand up and take the few steps to or from his scooter.

His scooter was only about four steps from him but it was practically a mile for Wonwoo. It had become a long trek for him in the last six months that Seungcheol had been stuffing him silly. Just a week prior, Seungcheol had helped him to his scale which had a limit of 800 pounds and found that he had outgrown it. The word ERROR had popped up on the monitor and alerted the men that Wonwoo was now over 800 pounds. He had no idea how much he weighed but his joints and muscles were beginning to protest almost every movement.

When he finally made it to the scooter, he was a mess of sweat and wheezes. Seungcheol rubbed his back as he caught his breath. After a minute, Wonwoo turned the key to his scooter and felt it turn on. He flipped it into reverse and turned the handle to make it move but he only felt the machine buzz and heard a low rumble. He released the handle and tried again. It did the same. Seungcheol looked down at him, confused for a moment and then in understanding.

“Wonwoo,” he said, almost breathlessly. “I think you’re too heavy for it to move.”

Wonwoo would laugh at the situation, and would probably get more turned on if not for the nagging thought that he would have to walk back to his bed. He tried to rev it one more time with desperate hope that it would move, but unsurprisingly it didn’t.

“Let’s get you back on the couch,” Seungcheol said. His voice was a mix of concerned and turned on. Wonwoo guessed that he was waiting to see his reaction to the situation.

“I’m too fat for my scooter,” he said with a smile. “I’m close.”

“Yeah, you are,” Seungcheol said, looking relieved and swooping down to kiss him. “God, you’re so hot.”

“Cheol,” Wonwoo said, getting the man’s attention. “I don’t want to go back to the couch.” Seungcheol crouched down and held his hands, listening intently.

“I want you to help me back to the bed,” he said slowly. “And I don’t want to get back up again.”

Seungcheol stared at him with hungry eyes and nodded. He rose and held his hands out to Wonwoo.

It took them a while to get Wonwoo up from the scooter and then they began the trek to the bed. Wonwoo guessed that he hadn’t walked that far in over a year at this point. He stared ahead with fear and morbid excitement. It had been a while since he’d been truly exhausted.

“Hold on to me, okay?” Seungcheol instructed. “Take your time and let me know if you need to sit.”

Wonwoo nodded with a huff and leaned to the left to take his first “step” forward. His breathing was already starting to increase in speed after three steps. He could feel sweat developing between his folds. They had made it about five feet when Wonwoo spoke.

“I’ll need to sit soon,” he said between short breaths. “Fuck.”

Seungcheol grabbed a seldom used wooden chair from the kitchen and hoped that it would be strong enough to withstand the enormous weight of his boyfriend. Wonwoo’s eyes sparkled at the chair as beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

“This is going to take forever,” he said as he carefully sat down on the chair.

“Savor it,” Seungcheol said, massaging his shoulders. “You’ll never do this again.”

“Wait til we’re in the bedroom to start the dirty talk,” he said with a cheeky grin. Seungcheol chuckled.

It took them over thirty minutes to get Wonwoo back into bed. When he finally got there and got his pillows propped up and comfortable, he sighed with content.

I’m immobile, he thought to himself. I’m finally immobile.

He watched as Seungcheol moved about his bedroom setting things up and smiled. From now on, all he had to do was sit and get fatter.

“Cheol,” he said, stopping the man in his tracks. “Deal with that later. Right now, I want a sponge bath and some food.”

The older man smiled and nodded. “Yes sir,” he said with a quirk in his eyebrow. He made his way to the bathroom and began preparing a bucket of water. He felt himself grow hard as he realized that this would be the first of many tasks that he would now have to take on in caring for his immobile boyfriend. The thought pleased him. After he turned the water off, he swore he heard Wonwoo’s stomach grumble and decided it was time to get to work.

---

Thank you for reading!

#😳🤭

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jinsquish · 7 months

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me when my mpreg boypussy jin fic doesn’t immediately get 3 million kudos and 1.5 million bookmarks

#i love boypussy and i am not afraid to say it

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jinsquish · 8 months

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i commissioned this from @ameamakunai on twt for my 4 yr old fic bun in the oven! and it's soooo beautiful ;_;

#haven't written in Forever but

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jinsquish · 1 year

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Banana Split

fuck it fat jin. also tw // some vague talk abt body image issues/dieting

“Jin?”

Seokjin looks up from his banana split sundae and then freezes, nearly dropping the spoon in his grasp.

“Yoongi?”

“It‘s been a while,” Yoongi says. He gestures to the empty chair opposite Seokjin at the table. “Mind if I sit?”

“Go ahead.” Yoongi does, immediately slouching as he settles in. Seokjin tries to smile, but it feels like more of a grimace. He rests his spoon into the ice cream dish. “What have you been up to?”

“Been working on writing movies and shit. Livin‘ the dream. You?”

Well.

Seokjin‘s sitting in a little ice cream parlor that‘s miles and miles away from his hometown. He‘s eating a gigantic banana split (or was, really, seeing as the shock of running into Yoongi somewhat sapped his appetite), and he‘s much, much bigger than he was in high school—than he was when he last interacted with Yoongi.

“I‘m an attorney,” he says. I went through a really bad breakup and I used food to cope, he doesn‘t say.

But lovely Yoongi, lovely but acerbic Yoongi, has made no indication that he noticed Seokjin‘s substantial weight gain. “You always did love arguing,” Yoongi muses, punctuating the thought with a laugh. “Bet you‘re the most annoying attorney in town.”

How bold it is, Seokjin thinks, that Yoongi talks exactly as they did when they were best friends—years and years ago. “I‘m the best attorney in town, actually,” he retorts. “Do you write those shitty Hallmark films?”

Yoongi laughs, Seokjin laughs. They calm and just look at each other for a weird minute. “Nothing‘s changed, has it?”

It almost seems like a joke, considering that Seokjin is easily twice the size he was the last time they bantered like this. But the look in Yoongi‘s eyes is mirthful, his smile is sincere, and, in this moment, something long dormant blooms within Seokjin.

They don‘t talk about it.

Ever since their chance encounter at the ice cream parlor, Yoongi and Seokjin have been spending a lot of time together.

It all began with one spontaneous night, where Yoongi had asked Seokjin if he‘d wanted to grab dinner over text. They‘d gone to get burgers, cheap and easy, though—much as he did at the ice cream parlor—Seokjin found himself self-conscious when he was near Yoongi, particularly when food was involved. This, of course, is a foreign sensation; Seokjin is nothing if not unapologetically himself, taking up a vast amount of space both literal and figurative. But Yoongi—with Yoongi, it‘s different.

Perhaps it‘s the feelings Seokjin held for Yoongi in high school—more specifically, their reappearance. All it took was one meager chance conversation to reignite the spark that he had long since doused in distance.

Yoongi has yet to mention Seokjin‘s body—as it should be, probably, but something about the silence sets Seokjin on edge. Is Yoongi silently judging him? Seeing as all of their excursions thus far have included food and eating in some way, shape, or form—maybe. But maybe not.

Seokjin comes a little bit closer to the answer when they go out for Mexican food.

“I‘ve been trying to go to the gym,” Yoongi says, dipping a tortilla chip in salsa before biting it with a satisfying crunch. “I‘m interested in what it‘s like to not be a fucking twig. I look like I‘m twelve.”

Seokjin laughs. “I mean, the height‘s not helping.” He dips a couple of chips in queso and stuffs both of them in his mouth—he‘s grown a bit more comfortable with being a glutton around his crush. “Remember when the hall monitor thought you were in middle school?”

“Yeah, now I do,” Yoongi growls, but it has no bite. “That was like, the worst thing to ever happen to me in high school. And that one fight I lost.”

“Because you were too small?” Seokjin snorts.

“Yeah,” he says, more dejected this time. “But I was so close! If that fucker had been a couple of inches shorter I would‘ve won, easy.” He sighs. “You‘re lucky, Jin. You‘ve always been big.”

As if registering what he just said, Yoongi freezes, eyes widening. Seokjin freezes, too, and pulls his hand away from where it was hovering near the bowl of tortilla chips in the middle of the table.

“Fuck, Jin—I mean like, tall. And your shoulders—“

“No, it‘s fine,” Seokjin says softly. “I got fat.” Conflicting emotions swirl around in his bloated stomach. He takes a look at Yoongi‘s now-apologetic expression and huffs a small laugh, more just a puff of air than anything. “I‘m actually surprised you didn‘t bring it up sooner.” Then, he runs a hand down his massive flabby belly, stroking it. He‘s not sure why he does it, as it‘s a somewhat awkward action, especially when performed in a public place. “It‘s a lot.”

Yoongi glances down at Seokjin‘s hand as its movement causes the mass to jiggle, but he resituates his gaze onto Seokjin‘s face just as quickly. “It‘s not a big deal.”

“But you feel bad for acknowledging it.”

“Well—“ Yoongi says, “that‘s a total asshole thing to do.”

“But you are an asshole,” he jokes. His hand rests still on his gut, and he can feel the machinations of his digestive system. Although he‘s taken the liberty of eating over half of the chips and all of the queso, he‘s still starving.

“Yeah. But y‘know, it really doesn‘t matter. I don‘t give a fuck whether someone‘s fat or thin or whatever. It‘s what‘s on the inside that counts.”

“Wow,” Seokjin says, fake-swooning, “a true gentleman.”

Yoongi kicks his foot under the table, which instigates an oddly intense game of footsie that leaves Seokjin a little breathless by the time their meals arrive.

Their meals are both very different—Seokjin‘s got pollo con queso, which is a deep-fried monstrosity smothered in creamy sauce and cheese, plus he ordered two beef tacos and a burrito a la carte. Yoongi, on the other hand, has chicken fajitas. It‘s got a ton of vegetables in it and, much to Seokjin‘s chagrin, Yoongi doesn‘t even eat the tortillas provided with it.

“If you‘re not going to eat the tortillas then you should give them to me,” Seokjin whines after he‘s polished off his entire meal, side of beans and rice and all. “I‘m still hungry. Friends don‘t let friends starve.”

“Who said we were friends,” Yoongi says as he scoots the basket of rolled-up tortillas toward Seokjin. “Are you just gonna eat them plain?”

Seokjin, whose face is already stuffed with tortilla, answers with a muffled yes.

When they‘re ready to leave, Seokjin discovers that he‘s a bit fuller than he thought; it takes some effort to stand from his seat since his distended stomach is practically pinning him down. Then, when he gets into Yoongi‘s car, he has trouble clicking his seatbelt into place—his ass is wide and his reach is limited.

“Here,” Yoongi says after he gets in the driver‘s seat and starts the car. He leans over the console and takes the buckle from Seokjin before clicking it into place, his hands briefly brushing over the fat folds in Seokjin‘s side. The lighting in the car is dim—it‘s nighttime and only the streetlights provide illumination—but Seokjin sees Yoongi‘s pale cheeks turn rosy.

Neither of them say anything after that, the atmosphere thick with inexplicable tension. Once Seokjin is at home and in bed, the image of Yoongi delicate and slender hands against Seokjin‘s mass sticks with him until he falls asleep.

It‘s a while until Seokjin tells Yoongi the story.

“I started dating him in sophomore year of college,” he says, scooping a bite of triple fudge brownie a la mode into his mouth. “He was really athletic—he was accepted on a soccer scholarship, actually—and his lifestyle easily influenced mine.”

Yoongi nods. His half-eaten cup of sorbet is melting.

“At first, it was really nice. He stuck to a raw vegan diet but he always made really good meals, and all of our dates were centered around physical activity: hiking, running, biking… He actually referred to us going to the gym as a ‘date’.” He smiles and takes another huge bite. “It really did feel good, and after a few months I got super fit. I was toned and slender and he began to worship my body. Which was interesting, seeing as I began to feel like I looked nowhere as good as he did. So I guess I got a little obsessive.”

“You felt insecure?”

Seokjin nods. “He was a college athlete. As our physical intimacy increased, I felt greater pressure to be as good as him. To look as good as he did. So, I started to get really strict about my diet.” He takes another bite. “I went vegan to emulate him. But I also obsessively counted calories and eliminated things that I felt were ‘bad‘, like bananas, since they‘re high in sugar and carbs. Needless to say, I fell deeper into that sad little body-image hole.”

“That‘s the worst. I‘m sorry that happened to you, Jin,” Yoongi says sincerely.

“It‘s fine. Everything‘s okay now. Well.” he looks down at himself, his body. His shirt clings tightly to his chest and stomach, and he can feel the fabric stretch with every breath that heaves his belly up and down; his thighs are pressed tightly against each other, and even like this the fat spills off the side of the ice cream parlor chair. “I‘m not just eating one apple for every meal, so I guess it‘s better.”

“It is,” he says seriously.

“Yeah.” Seokjin pushes his empty plate away from him and rests a hand on his stomach. “I like eating, but sometimes I feel bad about letting myself go this much. My ex would be so disgusted if he saw me like this.”

“Well, fuck him then.” Yoongi‘s sorbet has completely liquefied. “He doesn‘t deserve you. Hell, I‘ll bet you‘re hotter than him at literally any size—“ at this, Yoongi blushes and looks down at the ground. “And, yeah. Fuck him.”

The outburst both amuses and endears Seokjin. “It‘s fine. He really wasn‘t a bad guy; I hid my problems from him until everything imploded.” He takes his hand off his belly and leans forward, the edge of the table digging into his fat rolls. He lays his elbows onto the surface of the table. “You know, Yoongi, I‘m really glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too.” Yoongi scratches the back of his head. “I can‘t believe we didn‘t keep in touch after we graduated.” He grins. “Even after all these years, you‘re still my best friend.”

“Yeah.” He thinks it‘s the comfort he finds in sitting in this little ice cream parlor that allows him to deliver this semi-non sequitur: “Back then, I had the biggest crush on you.”

Yoongi grows redder. “W-well,” he says, fiddling with the ring on his right index finger. “Maybe I did, too.”

They smile at each other like idiots.

Spontaneity seems to be their thing, Seokjin thinks as Yoongi presses him up against the wall in his apartment.

Following their spontaneous confession, they resolve to go back to Yoongi‘s place and talk to figure out what they will mean going forward.

But in lieu of having a mature conversation about their feelings, Yoongi decides that he doesn‘t want to wait any longer.

Seokjin engulfs Yoongi when they kiss due to his greater height and stature. He mentions this when they pull apart for air, and Yoongi nearly moans.

“Yeah, you‘re fuckin‘ huge,” he says, groping and kneading at Seokjin‘s gut. But then he looks up at Seokjin with an expression that asks Is this okay?

And, to Seokjin‘s surprise, the degradation goes straight to his dick. He pulls Yoongi back in and kisses him with vigor.

“I wanted to fuckin‘ jump you when I saw you in that ice cream shop stuffing your fat face,” he says, breathless from their kiss. “Watching you eat makes me so hard. You know how many fuckin‘ boners I had to will away? I don‘t know how I could hold conversation with you—all of my blood went straight to my dick. Fuck,” he moans when Seokjin mouths at his throat.

They end up in Yoongi‘s bed, Seokjin leaning back against the headboard while Yoongi rides him, playing with Seokjin‘s huge gut, kissing and sucking hickeys all over it.

Yoongi lays his head onto his stomach after they finish. Seokjin soothingly runs his fingers through Yoongi‘s hair.

“Can I stuff you sometime?” Yoongi asks once they‘ve cooled down.

“I always get stuffed whenever we go out,” he jokes.

“Yeah, but I want to feed you.” He reaches over and runs his hand over Seokjin‘s chins. “Make you feel good and full.”

Seokjin takes Yoongi‘s hand and kisses it. “Sure. You already make me feel good, though.”

Yoongi breathes. “I think I love you.”

Seokjin laughs. “I think I love you, too.”

Something about it feels like it was inevitable, like their reunion was written in the stars. Like they‘re meant to be.

They‘re meant to be here, in Seokjin‘s kitchen, with Yoongi assisting Seokjin in consuming five orders of fried rice.

“Just a little bit more,” Yoongi encourages when Seokjin sets the box and chopsticks down to catch his breath. “You‘re so close.”

“Uh huh,” he mumbles, dazed and stuffed, feeling as his stomach expands more and more. There was room between his gut and the edge of the table when he first sat down. But now? Not so much. None at all, actually.

“You can do it. You‘re so amazing.” Yoongi uses one hand to massage his boyfriend‘s swollen belly and the other to guide a bite to his mouth.

Seokjin swallows everything Yoongi feeds him. When he succeeds in eating everything, he leans his head back and takes deep breaths.

“That was a lot.” Yoongi kisses his cheek as he continues to rub his belly. Seokjin just smiles, too tired to properly respond.

They take it easy the rest of the evening—that is, until Seokjin‘s stomach growls while they‘re watching a movie on the couch.

Yoongi looks over to him. “Are you hungry again, baby?”

Truthfully, Seokjin is embarrassed; never has he been able to get hungry again so soon after eating so much. The thought makes the tips of his ears burn, and he loves it. “Yeah, kind of.”

That‘s how Seokjin finds himself in their favorite little ice cream parlor, devouring two banana splits. This time, Yoongi isn‘t even eating anything—he‘s content to observe Seokjin.

“These chairs probably won‘t be able to hold your weight soon,” Yoongi teases. “I bet one day you‘ll break one. You‘ll have to heave your fat ass off the ground.”

“But you would help me, dipshit.” Seokjin picks up the ice cream dish and tips the excess melted ice cream straight into his mouth. Some of it drips onto his shirt.

“I‘m gonna have to go everywhere with you, then? You‘ll be that helpless?”

Without much of a pause, he digs into the second banana split. “I bet you want that, you pervert.”

“I do,” Yoongi says lowly. “I want to see you become so fat that you get too lazy to walk.”

“That‘ll probably come sooner than you think.” Seokjin finishes off the sundae and drinks the melted ice cream into his mouth again, more running down his chins, his front. He places the dish down onto the table with an air of finality and goes to wipe the mess off his face. Though, since he uses the back of his hand, he only ends up smearing everything around. “Like right now,” he jests, but really Yoongi will almost definitely have to help him get out of this chair.

And he does, eventually, and Yoongi also assists him in buckling his seatbelt—just like that one night. But Seokjin‘s definitely gained weight since then, as it‘s gotten more difficult to push back all of the adipose that spills out and presses against the console.

Seokjin dozes off on the drive back, full and content. Yoongi laughs when he begins snoring—it‘s gotten worse, lately, and rather than annoying he just finds it cute.

When they get home, Yoongi has to shake him awake. “Hey sleepyhead.”

Seokjin cracks one eye open. “Hey dumbass. Let me sleep here. Don‘t wanna move.”

It takes some goading, but Yoongi helps him out of the car and into bed. Yoongi climbs in with him and tentatively pillows his head on Seokjin‘s belly. “This okay?” he whispers. Sometimes, when Seokjin‘s too full, pressure on his stomach just makes him feel sick.

“It‘s fine,” he responds, yawning. “Thanks, Yoongi. For being so gentle.”

“Of course I am.” He runs his hands along Seokjin‘s stretch marks. “I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you, too.”

They lay in silence, their eyes closed but neither of them sleeping. Then, Seokjin‘s stomach emits a grumble.

Neither of them sleep that night.

#a relic!!!

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jinsquish · 1 year

Text

In The Way

Taehyung wakes up unable to reach around his stomach. Getting dressed is going to be fun

—

When Jimin woke up, earlier than Taehyung as usual, he went downstairs to make them breakfast. He didn’t make a lot, just some pancakes, because he knew how much Taehyung had eaten the night before and he was probably still very full.

Jimin loved to cook, especially for his boyfriend. Before dating Taehyung, he had absolutely hated it, but now it had become one of his favourite pastimes. He loved it because he knew how much Taehyung loved food and how he was contributing to Taehyung looking the way he did, enormous and round and incredibly sexy.

Taehyung came down the stairs about 45 minutes later, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He was wearing large grey sweatpants, that settled low on his hips to make room for his stomach. He was also wearing a hoodie, a 3XL that was stretched tight around his upper-half. It didn’t quite reach all the way down to his sweatpants, so Jimin was blessed with the beautiful sight of a large strip of solid, pale underbelly.

“Hey,” Jimin said, a bit breathless. Taehyung did that to him. “I made you pancakes.”

Taehyung smiled, big and beautiful, his chubby cheeks squishing out a bit. “Thanks, baby.”

Jimin leaned in to kiss Taehyung. He had to lean over quite a lot to reach Taehyung’s face because his stomach was in the way. He reached down to feel the cheeky strip of skin that had been taunting him so bad. Jimin marvelled at how firm it was, as he stroked along it. Taehyung really did have the perfect body.

They broke apart and Taehyung sat down at the counter and began to dig in. These days, Jimin and Taehyung always ate at the counter, as Taehyung’s stomach had gotten so big he couldn’t get close enough to the table to eat comfortably.

After breakfast, Taehyung went upstairs to change for work. He worked at a bank, so he was required to wear a shirt every day. His shirts were very large, so usually there was never really a problem with the size. But today, there was another problem. He couldn’t reach around his stomach to actually button it up.

The night before, Jimin and Taehyung had done their biggest stuffing session yet. Taehyung had never eaten more. He had eaten a whole large pizza, a large pot of pasta Jimin had made for him, two incredibly rich chocolate cakes, lots of Indian takeaway, and litres and litres of milk and soda. Because most of his weight accumulated at his stomach, the result of this session had left his stomach enormous, to the point where he was almost unable to move.

Usually, when he woke up in the morning, his stomach had softened up a bit, but now when he poked his stomach it was completely taut. It was as hard as a rock. And Taehyung’s arms wouldn’t fit all the way around it. He stretched his arms out all the way and curved them around his stomach. The button he needed to do was just under his belly button. He stretched to try and make both sides of the shirt meet, but his fingers stopped just a couple of centimetres short on either side of his belly button.

Taehyung smiled. Jimin would love this.

“Jimin,” he called down the stairs. “Can you come up here and help me.”

“Just a second!”

Jimin ran upstairs quickly. Usually, he would be annoyed that he had to stop his morning stretching session, but with Taehyung looking like he did right now, Jimin would take any excuse to see him.

When he walked into the room, he saw Taehyung’s back covered in a shirt. And then Taehyung turned around. His large size made it hard for him to move that fast so Jimin was treated to a nice side view of Taehyung’s stomach. He could see how distended it was, how swollen he was. He looked ready to pop. Taehyung’s hands were resting on the crest of his stomach, idly stroking back and forwards. He looked entirely content with his body, and Jimin loved nothing more than that.

It also helped that Taehyung had never looked sexier.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked.

“My arms aren’t long enough for me to button my shirt,” Taehyung said. “Look, I’ll show you.”

And then Taehyung grabbed the shirt in each hand and stretched. Jimin watched his hands stop under his belly button. “See, my hands don’t reach.”

Jimin gulped. He could feel himself hardening in his pants.

“I’ll help you with that,” Jimin said. He reached around and grabbed both sides of the shirt, his fingers trailing against Taehyung stomach as he did. He could feel how hard it was, how there was absolutely no give when he pressed slightly.

He did up the button under Taehyung’s belly button, right where his stomach was the largest.

Then he looked up at Taehyung and stroked the top of his stomach.

“Wanna do the rest for me?” Taehyung asked.

“Sure.”

He did them up slowly, running his hand over Taehyung’s stomach every time. He could feel Taehyung’s breathing getting heavier.

When he finished he started stroking the underside of Taehyung’s belly.

“Do you want to finish helping me get changed?” Taehyung asked.

“I want to watch you finish getting changed.” Taehyung nodded and Jimin sat on the chair in the corner of the room next to the wardrobe.

Taehyung grabbed his dress pants from the wardrobe and dropped his sweatpants to the ground. He sat down on the bed, the weight of his stomach causing him to rock backwards slightly. Jimin watched as Taehyung struggled to pull his legs close enough to his chest to put his feet through. He rocked from side to side until he finally managed to get both feet through the leg holes. He stood up and pulled them up.

Then Taehyung buttoned them up. Jimin loved how Taehyung didn’t even bother to look down to see what he was doing, knowing that no matter how hard he tried, he would never be able to see what was going on under his stomach. At this angle, Taehyung could only just reach the button, and Jimin watched the concentration on his face. Taehyung was so cute.

Taehyung reached around to tuck the back of his shirt in.

“Jimin, is my shirt tucked in at the front?”

“It is.” Jimin loved how Taehyung’s stomach was so hard, it barely spilled over the top of his pants. It was large and went straight out as if Taehyung was nothing but proud of its size and weight.

Taehyung started walking back towards the wardrobe to grab his belt. Jimin loved the way he waddled slightly and the say his stomach moved from side to side. Taehyung rested a hand on the top of his stomach, doing small strokes, as he chose a belt. He knew how much Jimin loved that. Taehyung was such a tease.

When Taehyung had chosen a belt, he started looping it through the loops. His stomach was so close to Jimin’s face, he almost felt like frothing at the mouth. Taehyung was now buckling the belt but was struggling. The size of his stomach meant that he couldn’t see where the belt holes were.

This time, Taehyung didn’t even need to ask before Jimin was reaching over to help him. He put the prong of the buckle through the appropriate hole. He could feel the warmth of Taehyung’s stomach, and how it moved slightly with every breath he took.

“Thanks, babe,” Taehyung said. Jimin just pressed a small kiss to the centre of Taehyung’s stomach. He looked up and saw Taehyung’s soft smile.

Then Taehyung had to put on his socks. Jimin watched as Taehyung tried to maneuver himself around his stomach so that he could reach his feet. Jimin loved it.

He loved how he could see what a change he had had on Taehyung’s life, how much he had influenced Taehyung. He loved seeing the physical manifestation of their love and the things they loved doing together. He loved seeing how well he was taking care of Taehyung, making sure he was never hungry. But most of all, he loved how much Taehyung loved being this size. Taehyung was always staring at himself in the mirror, smiling as he examined his growth. Jimin loved how much Taehyung enjoyed being like this.

When Taehyung had pulled on his shoes and socks, he stood up.

“I have to go to work now, Jimin. I’ll miss you.” Jimin leaned over Taehyungs stomach to kiss him, his hands on both large, squishy cheeks.

“Make sure you eat a big lunch. I want to have some fun with this-” he slapped Taehyung’s stomach “-When you get home.”

Taehyung giggled. “Aye aye, sir.”

“I love you,” Jimin said.

“I love you too.”

And Taehyung was gone, leaving Jimin alone with a very big boner and an incredibly sexy mental image.

—

ao3

#missing this author fr…

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jinsquish · 1 year

Text

cw: breeding kink discovery, implied mpreg

baby omega trainee jungkook getting an awakening when fully matured omega seokjin goes into pre-heat in the dorms. maybe jungkook has only had one or two heats at this point and they are small, since lots of omega idols don't even get heats or have them rarely because of the vigorous training of crazy stressful schedules. but seokjin starting training late means his body still matured fully.

one of seokjin's symptoms is bloating due to slick production. like, serious bloating, and it's even more noticeable since he's pretty toned and thin usually. maybe the others even tease him about looking pregnant or pupped and seokjin embraces it. just takes it in stride best he can with his usual sense of humor despite how uncomfortable it physicaly is.

but jungkook can't. stop. staring. at the swell of seokjin's lower stomach pushing out as he lays down on the sofa with a heating pad, trying to get comfortable when he's cramping so bad. not only that, seokjin just smells so good, sweet and heady.

jungkook finds himself getting hot. blushing and squirming. shy and quiet. the older omega just screams fertile. it's doing things to him. he wants to feel seokjin up. nuzzle into his scent gland or the pooch of belly. It must be warm, all that slick inside him, pulsing with heat. he thinks about filling up even more, the picturing the obscene amount of slick inside him makes jungkook get a little wet himself. he doesn't fully understand stand it, knows it's not even biologically possible, but the thought of fucking a baby into the older omega has him warm all over from just the fantasy alone.

#🫣

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jinsquish · 1 year

Text

Stream of Consciousness Science Cuties NamJin

Ramble:

Every day, Namjoon sits next to his crush in the science lab. Kim Seojin is quiet, shy, and barely speaks to Namjoon. But, Namjoon doesn't really mind. There are little moments that make up for the lack of words, like how Seokjin's cheeks heat up every time Namjoon's fingers brush his when they're sharing slides to look through in the microscope.

Namjoon knows that he's on the nerdy side himself, and he's not ashamed of it. But the day that Seokjin sits down and the little pokémon charm peeks out of the zipper of his book bag, Namjoon positively lights up. It's the first time the Seokjin properly talks to him, and Namjoon considers it a massive win.

He tries to pay attention. He really does love biology, but something about Seokjin keeps distracting him. Maybe it's the softness that appeals to Namjoon, he isn't sure, but Seokjin's full dumpling cheeks, cute double chin, and rounded waist for some reason make Namjoon practically salivate. He finds himself peeking at the man's soft tummy that presses against the inside of his fuzzy sweaters, pulling them tight and rounding him out. Seokjin's thighs swell against the restrictive fabric of his jeans, and Namjoon can't help but stare at the way his creamy skin bulges out of the illegally high rips up his thighs. Namjoon bites his lip as he notices a few little pink stripes on the other's waist and soft hips when he bends down to get his textbook, and his sweater creeps up. Namjoon knows he's being weird... and potentially creepy. Honestly, he's trying not to stare. But how can he not notice how pretty the other man is? How can anyone in the lecture look anywhere else besides Kim Seokjin? No one else seems to have the same problem as him, and Namjoon sits on his hands for the rest of the hour just to be safe.

The weeks pass, and Namjoon slowly coaxes more words out of the other who seems to be growing considerably more comfortable with him, especially once Namjoon starts sharing half of his protein bars that he doesn't really need anyways. But it's so worth it, because of the way that Seokjin's eyes light up whenever he offers half of his food at the start of class sneakily underneath their table. It's really adorable... so Namjoon keeps doing it, just to get closer to him and glimpse the pretty smile that he might be getting addicted to.

As much as he tries to be good, one moment is burned into his mind, and Namjoon almost wishes that it hadn't ever happened. The previous group must have spilled some of the solvents they were analyzing on the floor, and been too rushed to clean it up. There was a nearly-invisible puddle right by Seokjin's seat, and Namjoon was on his way back to their lab station with some paper towels to clean it up. Just as he was bending down to wipe up the saline solution, Seokjin's tennis shoe entered his vision. Namjoon watched his foot slip practically in slow motion. On instinct, he shot his hands out, firmly grabbing one of Seokin's thighs, and the other steading the man's thick waist. Namjoon didn't even realize what he was doing until Seokjin was clutching the edge of the table, nearly toppled over, but successfully held up by Namjoon's hands that sank into soft pudge.

Heat exploded on Namjoon's cheeks, and he shyly looked up from where he was kneeling. From this low perspective, he could see the very bottom swell of Seokjin's belly that his sweater loosely hung over, how it gently spilled over the waistband of his jeans that was right in line with his face, and how- Namjoon gulped- Seokjin's perfectly rounded tummy looked distended like he'd just eaten a big lunch.

A string of incoherent words fell out of him, laced with apologies as Namjoon blushed even harder and peeked up higher to take in Seokjin's equally mortified brown eyes and his prominent double chin. The second that his friend- were they friends?- was stable and not in threat of slipping, Namjoon let go of the warm softness that filled his hands. His palms immediately felt cold, and he could have whined that he wasn't touching the perfect man any longer. Maybe he did whine, but he really hopes that he didn't.

Namjoon busied himself with cleaning up the spill as Seokjin plopped onto the lab station's stool, and he only glanced up once to see how Seokjin's plump asscheeks were too big for the measly circle of wood that was probably designed only for twigs like Namjoon. He stood up fast, nearly smacking his head on the underside of the counter if Seokjin hadn't grabbed his shoulders and given him a small smile as he pulled him out of harm's way.

Namjoon stuttered apologetically, asked if he was okay, and finally righted himself just to shove his glasses back up his burning nose. He definitely sat on his hands that ached from feeling such delicious squish, because they threatened to get another handful. Namjoon tried and failed to keep himself from glowing the entire rest of the lesson once Seokjin let out a breathy "thank you, Joon-ah," right next to his ear and gently squeezed his shoulder.

#omg so adorable 💕💕

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