#and i can barely cope with this. how would i cooe with that?

[bunnihearted]

🐰🩹❤️‍🩹

[bulletproofscales]

Self-Control Chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896048/chapters/65806804

3k words

tw: mentions of immobility

Feet are dragging him through the lobby; he is dreading this already. Walking up to the elevator and pressing the button.

“Wait up!” Jeongguk’s head springs up turning to see the fat man pathetically attempting to run his way.

"Hobi hyung” He greets, at a loss of words by the way his entire body shakes violently under his movements. He has to stop himself midway through licking his lips; thankfully Hoseok is too busy catching his breath; head hung low and hand against the wall for support. 

Jeongguk has to remind himself to breathe too.

The older makes the effort to lift his head up, reddened cheeks and heart-shaped smile, knocking the air out of Jeongguk’s own lungs, again. “Hey, Kookie.” His voice is all too sweet even when breathless like this. 

He wants to say more, ask if he came here walking even though he knows that would be ridiculous; just hear him say that there’s no way he could’ve walked here. To compare just how out of shape he is in comparison to the dancer he was before. Though, in rescue of his quivering self-control, the elevator doors open, and they both step in. 

Or well, Hoseok and then Jeongguk. The door is not nearly wide enough for the two of them at once. 

As he pushes the button to the fourth floor, Jeongguk can’t help but be glad it’s Hoseok he’s sharing an elevator ride with. Yeah, he is nearly pressed against the wall trying to avoid his arm grazing Hoseok’s fat one, heat emanating from his body enough to make the younger feel like melting, and there’s a distinct smell of sweat that’s being attempted to be covered with cologne, dizzying him. 

But he knows if he were to be here with anyone else, they’d exceed the weight limit. 

The elevator ride feels endless. He is forcing himself to stare at the wall directly in front of him. Even if he wants to steal glances at Hoseok’s body, admire it, every pound hanging off a frame that used to be so slim. 

But he doesn’t. Because he has self-control. 

Then a loud gurgle comes from the man next to him. 

Jeongguk’s face heats up. 

“Hungry already?” He meets Hoseok’s reddening cheeks with a side glance from the corner of his eyes and a smile that is hopefully teasing but friendly enough to not be predatory. Detachment comes off naturally in his voice. No, Joengguk isn’t affected by this at all! 

“I barely ate today.” He doubts the legitimacy of that statement. ‘Barely ate’ to any one of them means more food than on Jeongguk’s most gluttonous days. “Got to catch up to them!” He beams so happily. Hoseok is the ‘skinniest’, of the six of them. Though any variable of the word skinny being directed anywhere near Jeongguk’s friends would be laughable. 

This is another thing Jeognguk came to realize a little too late. When the first changes started to occur, the others would tease Hoseok. Call him a twig in comparison to their rapidly fattening bodies. At first, Jeongguk thought it was just the other’s way of coping with their sudden weight gain. But then, Hoseok was actively taking measures to gain weight. Even with a body like the one he has now…he still does. 

It still isn’t enough for Hoseok. 

It baffles him. Just how open they are to both the intentional and accidental aspects of their weight gain, calling one another addicts, yet actively seeking fattening foods with the purpose of being on the same level as the others. It drives him insane. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, and Jeongguk lets Hoseok step out first. His eyes were already strictly looking forward so if he got a too-long-to-be-normal glance at Hoseok’s ass, that was the reason, nothing more. And if he stays behind biting at his lip with a reddening face, it was because Hoseok walks so slowly he wanted to give him some advantage. Nothing else. 

The older one turns to look at Jeongguk. “Did I sit on something?” He is asking, humored; twisting his torso as much as he can to stare down at his pants.

So many side rolls… 

Jeongguk, he asked a question.

“No!” Maybe it comes a bit too jumpy and too loud. He coughs, casual facade coming back seamlessly. “I’m just letting you get some advantage.” And he even dares to say “You’re starting to waddle, hyung.” He begins to walk behind him, long and meaningful strides making Jeongguk reach him easily. 

What he doesn’t expect is a dreamy sigh from Hoseok, “Ahhh, you’re the only that thinks that, Jeonggukie.”  

They knock on the door; if Hoseok has to rest his palm against the wall to catch his breath, Jeongguk most certainly doesn’t pay attention to it. “Come in! It’s open.” Yoongi’s voice resonates muffled through the door. 

Of course, they’d leave it unlocked only if it means not standing up. He lets Hoseok open it, but not because he wants to see just how much more until he brushes through the door frame; Jeongguk does it out of courtesy. He inhales a little shakily before allowing himself inside, closing the door behind him as he steps into the living room alongside Hoseok.

Yoongi was sitting on the couch, taking almost up half of it. 

Was it a big couch? No. Did it still make Jeongguk have trouble swallowing down his own spit? Absolutely. 

His gut pooled almost over the couch, even when Yoongi was resting his back entirely against the backrest; well, not entirely, he still has the cushiony back rolls serving as a pillow.  His arm barely reached the armrest, but that was just Jeongguk assuming, as Yoongi’s hands were neatly placed on the shelf of his belly. One holding a bowl, balancing it on the massive dome, while the other brought food to his greasy lips. Jeongguk wonders for how long has he been eating… 

Jeongguk, stop. 

He tears his eyes away, but that’s no good, as next to him Namjoon is being pressed against the armrest of the couch.  The taunt beer belly he had developed during college, still very much there, barely budging against the pressure; though by the bottom of it, hung thick layers of pillowy fat, molding easily at the small space Yoongi left. But what captured Jeongguk’s eyes more was the hardness that was only left on him in the round taunt spot at the top of his stomach. Namjoon was broad once, strong, girthy. One of those is still true. But there’s something about the fact that the only part of Namjoon that isn’t soft is a beer belly that makes Jeongguk want to… 

Shut up. It makes him want to shut up before his self-control goes out the window. 

“Well if it isn’t my favorite twigs!” Both Hoseok and Jeongguk groan at Seokjin’s cheerful tone. Squeezed into the one-person couch. Yeah, he is sitting alone, but the width of his body is for two people. His hips are overflowing out, he actually looks stuck. The fat of his entire torso squished and bulging forward; even his moobs looked squished together. 

Hoseok is whining, lips in a pout like a child that’s being poked fun at. “Hyung stop the twig thing. Jeonggukie said I’m starting to waddle!” He is taking slow steps towards the bigger couch; for a moment the youngest’s breath stills, thinking about Hoseok possibly trying to squeeze himself in between Yoongi and Namjoon. Though he can breathe again once he sees him plop his weight heavily on the floor; right in between Yoongi’s spread legs, using his gut nearly draping off the couch as a nice neck support. Plastic cups tremble at the impact. Hell, Jeongguk can feel the vibration of the floor beneath his feet. 

“To Jeongguk, we all waddle, Seok-ah” Yoongi states almost dramatically. He knows the older would be petting Hoseok’s hair comfortingly if his arms reached below his gut. They all completely dismiss the impact of Hoseok’s weight on the ground… Which is fair, any one of them could do that. 

Which only makes Jeongguk more turned on, damn. 

He grabs one of the neglected chairs from the dining table, these two haven’t any of them in months at least. And sits down beside Yoongi. Tries not to think about how it’s dusty under his hands when he drags it closer. 

“Well, we can’t say Jeongguk knows what waddling even means. “Namjoon comments as if the youngest wasn’t even in the room, only then turning to him. “Kook-ah, was it like a sway of hips, or was it more like….a limp of sorts?” 

“I’m basically your human walking stick. I think I know what a waddle looks like.” He crosses his arms over his chest, confidently as he leans back on the chair. That’s right, Jeongguk; just pretend to be comfortable. 

“Even if you’re waddling you’re still out scrawny little twig, Hobi.” Seokjin cooes endeared. 

“At least Jeonggukie thinks I’m fat.” He mumbles to himself wistfully. Ironically, Jeongguk is making an extra effort to try and not think about how fat everyone in the room is. Everyone, but him. 

For a moment he has hope. Hope that the conversation will thrift to something else, anything, anything else. But Jeongguk is soon regretting it as he hears heavy stomps resonate behind the walls in the hallway. 

Oh, god.

“Open!” Seokjin says before they even reach the door. Jeongguk doubts they’ll be able to hear it over the loud noise of their own heavy breaths waddling towards the door. He tries not to wince noticeably, though he already knows what he’s about to see.

It looks like Taehyung is literally bursting through the door with the way his sides lightly sink into his hips. Nobody pays him any mind but Jeongguk’s eyes are wide like deer’s, stained on the way Taehyung’s chubby arms pathetically try to reach to untuck his hips form the doorframe; failing miserably. Suddenly he is being pushed and stumbles weakly forward. 

Jeongguk doesn’t even think twice before standing up to stop him from falling. Strong hands grip into the pillowy fat of his arms, tree trunk legs trembling and threatening to collapse. Jeongguk can feel the sweat from his armpits even when gripping into his bicep, all his shirts are constantly damp around the area. The younger tries his hardest not to scrunch his face in disgust, or worse, moan. 

It’s selfish that Jeongguk stays there, wanting to get as much as he can of the feeling of fat under his fingers; even when Taehyung is panting and his own arms are beginning to strain. 

Taehyung is turning his head to the door with a pout “Hey! I had that.” Jeongguk makes the mistake to look up from the sweaty man in his arms to look at the door. 

Taehyung flinches an “ouch” at the way the younger’s hands cling with a death grip, eyes wide and strained at Jimin. The fat man shuffling unbothered through the door frame, sideways. Tiny chubby hands attempting to push the bulging fat inwards as he slides into the room. 

One of these days he won’t be able to do that.

Jimin’s voice is snapping him out of his thoughts. “No, you didn’t. We would have been there for hours and my legs are giving out.” Jeongguk is snapped out of his trance, but is the reality he is living in anymore merciful? 

Jimin is waddling to where they’re all sitting; taking the chair the youngest had brought for himself. Fat overspills in every direction and the chair creaks dangerously but Jimin ignores it. “Thanks for leaving us a spot.” He huffs sarcastically. 

“Sounds like something you should have thought about before being late.” Yoongi says, his voice muffled as he swallows down the last crumbs of his bowl. When did he finish it?! 

“Some of us have lives, hyung.” Taehyung was still in his arms when he said that, his voice was breathless and Jeongguk turns his attention to him, helping him stand back up. Jeongguk is parting to go look for a chair but the older grips tighter into his forearm. “Floor.” He breathes out and Jeongguk doesn’t need any more instructions as he wraps an arm that grips to Taehyung’s back roll, supporting most of the weight pushed against him. The steps are slow and heavy, but sitting the older down is even more ungraceful.

The thud is louder than Hoseok’s, so is the tremble underneath his feet. Hell, Jeongguk can even swear he sees some of the fat hanging off Namjoon’s belly shake the slightest bit where it rests on the couch. 

“And what were you doing that was so important?” Seokjin prompts from his couch with a raised eyebrow.

“Having sex.” Jimin doesn’t even doubt before answering with an ironically cheerful proud smile. 

That was also a new addition to whatever fucked up dynamic Jeongguk had gotten himself in. With time, with the gained weight, all of them became much more….close? Jeongguk doesn’t exactly know. More touches, more teases more…openness. He doesn’t know if all of that is just platonic joking, he never got the courage to ask; he is scared of what the answer could possibly be. 

Just like Jimin didn’t hesitate, nobody was phased by this answer either. Namjoon scoffs. “Come on. You stopped having energy for sex months ago.”  How does he know this? Is he judging from their body? To be fair they can barely walk. Or does he know something else that they keep from Jeongguk? 

He tries to push the thought out of his head best he can. And rather takes a seat in front of the other end of the coffee table. 

The more distance the better. Detachment. 

Self.

Control. 

Hoseok’s lips are pursed and his head is cocked to the side as he considers his words. “Could have been a lazy handjob maybe?” The way he offers it so casually, like they aren’t talking about sex; like they aren’t talking about their friends. 

“Hobi, they stopped reaching their dicks a while ago, trust me” Seokjin intercepts with a knowing chuckle that in any other circumstance would be reassuring, but now does the opposite to Jeongguk’s spiraling thoughts. 

“Right!?” Taehyung exclaims “Who says we even have any dick left!” Jeongguk sucks in a sharp breath. It should be concerning the youngest, the way everyone mumbles in agreement. Instead, it just coils arousal at the bottom of his stomach. 

“Of course Seok still thinks you can reach your dicks. I mean look at him, he can basically touch his toes.” Yoongi argues unfazed. It’s ridiculous how utterly offended Hoseok looks by these accusations. However, he doesn’t argue.  Does Hoseok not fight back because it’s no use, or because he knows, they know? Jeongguk tries his best not to think about how the rest would even know this if they even did. 

He is officially giving himself a time out, eyes glued to the coffee table before him.

Jeongguk, get it together. 

He is still focusing on his breathing when things finally begin to go, properly, downhill. 

“So should we begin to order?” He tenses. Jimin’s voice reeks of innocence, a wide angelic grin adoring his cheeks as his small hands happily tap on the shelf of his belly. The enthusiastic agreements come in quickly. 

And just like that, Jeongguk’s torture officially begins. 

See? It’s too early for dinner, actually. But ordering is such a prolonged process, they really need all the time they can get before getting properly hungry (even though they are never fully satiated). And with their appetite, Jeongguk can easily say, they’re running against the clock. 

It’s dreadful, really, he has to sit there with the six obese men in front of him gushing and discussing different restaurants they want to order. Plural, of course. Because if they were to order enough food for all of them from one single restaurant, the place will probably think they’re being pranked. Once the list is set, they allow each one to pick three dishes from 4 restaurants. Which kinda startles Jeongguk for a bit. 

They always do three restaurants… He swallows thickly dreading to know that behind this change, there are six ravenous stomachs. 

They are planning on getting stuffed tonight. 

Fuck, how is Jeongguk even going to be able to move them afterward?!

When it’s Jeongguk’s turn to choose an order he skims over his options. All the choices are fast food places, which isn’t that surprising; they much rather have the food come quickly than have it be actually good. 

They are just that desperate to eat. 

He chooses ridiculously quickly in comparison to the rest. And if he wasn’t starving due to the tight knot in his stomach that made him avoid food all day, he’d actually eat the healthiest smallest option he could find; just to get off by the comparison to the other orders. 

He doesn’t. Jeongguk still has some self-control left. 

The wait for the food feels painfully long, which makes sense, considering the amount of food they just ordered. But it still manages to startle Jeongguk when there’s a ring of the doorbell. The first of many. 

“Jeongguk-ah” Yoongi calls pleading, and he doesn’t have to even finish his sentence for the youngest to know what he is going to ask. “Could you go get that, please?” He is asking nicely, but Jeongguk still groans. It’s not like he has a choice. Unless he wants to see one of them struggle to stand up and waddle pathetically to the poor delivery person at the door; who will suddenly understand why they are delivering this inhumane amount of food. 

He still has some respect for his sanity. 

So he stands and goes to the door, grabbing Seokjin’s wallet on the way there. One convenience about his weight is always leaving stuff in the same spot; none of them can really afford to be waddling around looking for stuff. 

When he opens the door this poor delivery girl is struggling under the bags, this is only from one restaurant?! Jeongguk is quickly pulling the bags, paying not before thanking. Something bubbling and trickling down his sides that he has come to recognize as embarrassment. Embarrassment of his six best friends who have lost every ounce of self-control they once had, unapologetically obese and inhumanely gluttonous. 

He is more embarrassed that he loves it.