#chubwolf

[misshowel-blog]

fatrocka64 mentioned you in a post: I'm sorry to say this but... I don't want to love...

needs to die now @ misshowel @msitubeatz@hufflepuff-rave@skeletonguys-and-ragdolls(helthehatter removed)(Update) I apologize…

I’d appreciate it if you don’t involve me in posts like this.

[chubstilinski]

this is kinda embarrassing, but i love stuffing scenarios where someone can't control the noises their body makes- like, their stomach starts groaning really loud because they ate so much. or they drank so much their gut actually makes gurgling noises when they move. even being unable to stifle their burps and hiccups and getting kinda gassy are really nice :')

Unff you and me both anon 😳😳😳i always wanna add like 300x more of this in fics but it always seems so self indulgent lmao… i mean i know that’s the name of the game here but lol

But like imagine Stiles stuffing his gut alllll day long until his shirt rolls up because it’s so bloated and his stomach is groaning and grumbling and he never wants to get up again. But then Scott knocks on his door and is shouting at him from the other side so Stiles groans and pushes up against the weight of his belly, forcing out a burp. He waddles over to the door, gingerly cradling his stomach. 

Scott bursts in, excitedly telling Stiles about how Kira is gonna be at some party and she sort of invited him and how Stiles had to come along as moral support. So Scott pretty much drags Stiles along (he’d maybe had to change his shirt first since it was barely covering his belly anymore and was slightly food stained). 

And Scott, of course, pretty much runs to hang out with Kira as soon as they get there. She’s a cool girl and Stiles likes her but there’s only so much awkward almost-flirting he can take as the designated third wheel so he sets off in search of the keg. As he’s downing his beer he finds Allison, and he’s like thank god, a familiar face, so he sticks by her for awhile. 

And Stiles is kind of matching Allison drink for drink even though she has a way higher tolerance, but all the food in his gut is just making it so he’s not too drunk but really really bloated. His stomach feels huge and kind of sloshes around when he walks. And the fizziness of the beer is kind of a mistake, probably, because he has to close his mouth to try and swallow down the sounds of the burps that desperately want to come out. It doesn’t always work out, especially since Stiles cannot seem to make himself shut the fuck up, so when he’s rambling sometimes the burps and hiccups and gurgles just sort of… slip out mid-sentence. 

But it makes Allison laugh at his expense so he guesses it’s okay. They hook up with Boyd, Erica, and Isaac on the back porch and they’re passing around a joint. It’s quieter out here and sure, Stiles fills a lot of the silence, but especially when he’s too busy trying to hold smoke in his lungs, his stomach is loud. Like really loud. It gets like this sometimes, but usually not when he’s around so many people, sloshing audibly when he leans forward to pass the joint off to Erica, groaning when he sits back against the railing. At some point, though, he’s a bit too stoned to care that much. 

He starts to get that phantom hunger where he knows rationally that he’s actually probably still full of the food from earlier and the beer he’d been drinking, but the ache is completely gone. Since there’s no food around, he chugs the last of his beer to fill himself up just that much more. Stiles’s belly protests with a loud gurgle and he has to cover his mouth with his hand try to cover the burp that comes out. 

Erica pokes at his belly playfully, giggling, saying “A little too much beer, Stiles?” and he burps again from even just that tiny amount of pressure. Stiles goes to push her hand away and opens his mouth to protest, but instead, an overstuffed hiccup bursts out of his mouth. 

Stiles lays his hand on his belly, breathing heavily past the fullness inside, and he grins. “Nah, I could use another, actually. Or, oh! Waffles. I’m starving.” 

Wracked by munchies, the group isn’t hard to convince. They all agree to bail on the party and get food. Stiles struggles for a minute to get off the floor, belly sloshing and, despite what he said, probably too full of beer. He texts Scott and they push through the herd inside and out the front door. 

And with Stiles’s arm wrapped around Allison’s shoulders and her hand grasping firmly at his hips, Erica, Boyd and Isaac trailing them, they wander over to Denny’s for some much-needed post-party middle-of-the-night breakfast. 

The booth is tighter than Stiles remembers the last time he came here, but Stiles is firmly squashed between Isaac and Allison and he’s kinda drunk and pretty high so he doesn’t think too much about it. He’s debating between all the different foods he could get and is super tempted by the all you can eat pancakes. Stiles feels along the swollen edge of his belly, and he can still hear it gurgling faintly, but he feels like he could eat an /infinite amount of pancakes, still. 

So he gets it, with a side of hashbrowns and sausage and when the waiter sets the first stack in front of him, he inhales it. He’s kind of impressed with himself. But then gets the hiccups for a couple minutes from eating too quickly and has to clamp his mouth shut. Belly jiggling with the force of each and every one, Stiles feels immensely fat and bloated and he should be full, but he isn’t. 

Well he is, but it doesn’t matter because the next stack comes and then the next and Stiles keeps eating, licking syrup and butter off his lips, and on his third stack, Allison slips a delicate hand to pat the top of his belly and says, “Jesus, Stiles, how much can you fit in there?” 

Stiles hears his stomach gurgle heavily as he rests back in his seat. He feels vastly overfull, though thanks to the weed it isn’t painful. He knows he shouldn’t but, yeah, he thinks, he could definitely eat more. 

“You’d be surprised,” Stiles says, cocky.

Erica gives him a look up and down from across the table. “Yeah, I really don’t think I would.”

“I donno,” Boyd chimes in, “I don’t think you could possibly take on another stack.” 

Stiles does not turn down that kind of challenge. “I’m.” Stiles burps into his fist. “I’m capable of that and more, Boyd. Watch and learn.” 

In the haze of gluttony Stiles devours a fourth stack of pancakes and Allison’s offer of leftovers, but on the last bite he admits defeat. His fork clanks onto the plate and he groans, pitifully. He’s so stuffed he can hardly breathe and he thinks he’s gonna be stuck in the booth forever but Allison yanks him out despite his protests. The rest of them split off to go back to their dorms so Stiles is left to stagger to his own, to the soundtrack of his groaning belly, barely able to make it a few steps without burping from too much motion. 

[chubstilinski]

Chubwolf 21 Day 04: Trying On Old Clothes / Button Popping / Seam Ripping

21 Days of Chubwolf

This has been in my wip folder for like, an eternity. Reread it and kinda like it just like this, tho I’d planned to add more to it initially? Still might with some encouragement wink wonk

Summary: Allison helps Lydia get ready for a fancy gala~

Allison sank into the fluffy cushions on Lydia’s bed and resigned herself to her fate. For a moment, she closed her eyes tight. Lydia was her roommate and her best friend and she could absolutely do this without being a creep, just like always.

It was just that… Lydia had been putting on a few recently. Okay that was an understatement: Lydia had gotten fat. And it was absolutely true that Allison hadn’t escaped the dreaded college weight gain unscathed, but she was working on control, and her fluctuating weight was finally on the downswing again.

Lydia, however, seemed not at all concerned about how she’d been ballooning, even just these past couple of months. If Allison didn’t know any better, she’d say Lydia wasn’t even aware. Not from the way she pranced around in skimpy, too-tight outfits that, in all likelihood, should’ve been retired to the ‘clothes I’ll wear again when I lose weight’ section of her closet. Well, if she even had one like Allison did, which seemed unlikely, considering.

Really, Allison wouldn’t even mind, except it was giving her all these thoughts and ideas and it was all very strange, the way Allison was reacting to it. She’d been nursing a crush on Lydia since high school, but sometimes just looking at her now, thinking about how plump she was getting… it, well it turned her on.

So it was with trepidation that Allison agreed to help Lydia pick out an outfit for the gala she was invited to that evening, knowing full well that she’d likely have to watch Lydia undress and she’d get to see what effect this past month’s overindulgence has had on her.

Honestly, Allison was lucky banshees didn’t have the same set of extrasensory abilities that werewolves did. Scott could always tell when he was getting her worked up. Sure, Lydia was pretty observant, but Allison could probably still keep her from noticing. She hoped.

Completely unaware of Allison’s inner turmoil, Lydia dragged her fingertips along each clothes hanger in her closet, humming in concentration. Finally, she swept the hangers to the side and plucked out a black pencil skirt. She pursed her lips and ran her fingers over the material, turned towards Allison, and held it up against herself. “Well?”

“Hmm,” Allison said, trying not to think about what it would look like on Lydia’s new curves, “It’s not black tie?”

“Semi-formal”

“I like it. That skirt looks good on you.”

Lydia preened, and spun around to face the closet again. “But what to pair with it…”

“What about that new shirt? The cream one?”

“Ooh, I like the way you think. See? You have a good eye, I don’t know why you tried to convince me I don’t need your advice.”

Allison rolled her eyes, fondly. “Because you don’t.”

“True,” Lydia said with a smile, before going to get the shirt out of her closet. It was a flouncy, silky crop top that would no doubt look gorgeous on her.

She brought it back with the skirt and carefully laid both of them on the bed, at Allison’s feet, and without missing a beat, pulled her stretchy floral skater dress over her head. Allison grit her teeth and glanced away, trying to offer her friend a little privacy, but she couldn’t help but catch, in the corner of her eye, the way Lydia jiggled as she moved.

Lydia picked up the skirt next, unclipped it from the hanger, and stepped into it one foot at a time before dragging it up her legs. She let out a high-pitched little grunt and Allison made the mistake of looking at her. The skirt was stuck around Lydia’s thighs, right before the broader flare of her hips, and she was tugging up the sides one at a time, inch by inch, a look of strain on her face. Each tug sent a wave of jiggles that spanned across every bit of chubby flesh Allison could see.

Allison’s face grew hot and she held her breath watching, while Lydia concentrated on forcing the material over her newly fattened body. She made it as high as her hips before she had to suck in and squeeze her fat lower belly past the waistband. It felt like it took eons, but finally she had the skirt in place at her waist, and Lydia let out a labored breath, making her belly pooch out naturally.

There was no way she was getting that zippered, no way. But Lydia didn’t seem deterred. Her hands went behind her to tug the two sides of the skirt closed. She had to suck in again and Allison could see how much she was struggling. Lydia made several valiant attempts before she gave up, breathing heavily.

She walked over to stand next to Allison and turned around. “Allison? Could you zip me?”

“Of course.” Allison was proud of how steady and normal her voice sounded when she was already wet just from watching. She tugged the two sides together as much as she could, and when Lydia sucked in again, they barely touched. “Hold it like that.”

Lydia’s hands came back around and clasped the sides, shaking a little with the effort of holding them. With one hand, Allison attempted to close the space between the gaping zipper, and with the other, pulled the zipper up as much as it would go. It was a long time until it reached the top, but eventually she got it closed. “There,” Allison said, relieved.

And then she watched as Lydia let out the breath she’d been holding, and even from the back she could see her swell, little rolls on the sides of her waist made more prominent by how tight the waistband was.

She turned around, and swiftly kissed Allison on the cheek. “Thanks! Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Allison’s heart fluttered and she was mortified and turned on all at once. She trained her eyes away and felt her face burn, until Lydia snapped pudgy fingers in her face and said, “Well?”

She had no choice but to take in the sight of Lydia Martin, thankfully fully clothed, but the light material of the shirt did nothing whatsoever to hide the bulge of her belly above the skirt, and the skirt. It was so tight it clung to every curve, every roll; it fit her like a second skin. Allison could see the outline of her belly and her love handles and it had apparently completely missed the memo about black being slimming.

Allison was drooling, she knew it, and the only thing she was capable of doing was giving Lydia an awkward thumbs up and a smile. But the thing looked like it was about ready to burst, and Allison couldn’t let her wear that, could she?

Apparently undeterred by Allison’s weirdness, Lydia turned to stand in front of her full-length mirror to fluff her perfect red curls and purse her lips at her reflection. “So what do you think, hair up or down,” she said, pulling her hair up to mimic an updo. With her arms raised, the shirt pulled up to show a little sliver of belly, decorated with little pink stretch marks.

Allison shut her eyes to try and clear her head. “Um, aren’t you gonna pick some more options?”

“No, I think this one’s perfect. Why?”

“I mean. Don’t you think that’s a little…”

Lydia spun around on her heel and put her hands on her hips. Her eyes narrowed and it would never cease to amaze Allison how terrifying someone so dainty could be. “What,” Lydia said.

Allison winced. “Tight?”

Lydia huffed, indignantly. “If i wanted your opinion I would’ve asked for it.” She glanced down judgmentally at Allison’s lazy day sweats and t-shirt combo. Whatever, she had a thesis to write; she didn’t have time for looking cute.

Allison rolled her eyes. “You did ask for it. And that’s not what I meant, and you know it. You look… great, Lydia.” Better than great, in fact. “I’m just–”

Lydia strode back over to her closet and bent over a little, to look at her shoes. Allison tried hard not to be too distracted by the fabric pulling tight against her full, plump ass. “Allison. Just because I’m fat doesn’t mean I can’t wear tight outfits anymore. I wouldn’t think that you of all people would understand–”

“That’s not what I–”

“I’ll dress however I damn well please, and–”

As Lydia bent over further, a loud ripping sound interrupted her. Allison gaped as she watched the skirt tear from the little vee of the back split up to her ass.

“Oh,” Lydia said. Allison was fighting with herself not to squirm, but she was absolutely overcome with lust. She could barely breathe, or think. Her hands clutched at the comforter, and Lydia turned back around, nonchalant but for the deep flush on her chubby cheeks. “I guess maybe it was a little tight.”

Lydia faced her ass to the mirror and looked over her shoulder to take in the damage. She pouted, toying with the ripped edges of fabric. “Damn. That’s the second one this month.”

Allison squeezed her thighs together, hoping, praying, she didn’t look as wrecked as she felt.

Lydia sighed and stripped out of the shirt, fitting it carefully on the hanger before putting it back in the closet. She reached around her back, and just a little nudge of the zipper had it flying open, body blowing up to fill the new space.

It was nearly as tortuous watching Lydia try to wriggle out of the skirt as it was watching her cram herself into it. The fabric was plastered to her skin, and she was jiggling uncontrollably while she inched it down.

Allison distracted herself by taking a peek in Lydia’s closet. She took her sweet time, drowning out the sounds of Lydia’s struggle with the clack of hangers. Her eyes caught on something bright cherry red. She hadn’t even been looking for something, not really. But she picked up this dress and held it in her hands.

It was a beautiful, lacy little cocktail dress with tiny beading that made it shimmer in the light.

“Good choice,” Lydia said, from right beside her.

Allison didn’t startle but it was a near thing. She handed over the dress and Lydia grinned, looking perfect with her slightly messy hair and blush pink matching lingerie, little red marks on her skin from the waistband and stitching in the skirt.

She unzipped the dress and stepped into it, and Allison held her breath. It slid on much easier than the skirt had, not that that said much, because it still took a few tugs to get it all the way up, and a few more to get Lydia’s plush arms all the way into the lace sleeves.

Allison zipped her up without waiting to be asked. Her fingers buzzed as they brushed the skin from Lydia’s lower back all the way up to her neck. It didn’t go up easy, not even with Lydia sucking in, but it was definitely an improvement. Soon enough she was all zipped up and she let out her breath. Some of the fabric puckered in the back when she did, just slightly strained, but it held.

“All right, how does this one look?”

Lydia turned around and backed up a couple of steps, spreading her arms and dropping one hip. Allison’s mouth ran dry.

“You look. Incredible,” Allison said, breathlessly.

The dress fit her every curve. It was tight, but not as ridiculously tight as the skirt. She looked perfect and soft and radiant. And Allison may have also found a little too much enjoyment from the fact that she could see the shadow of Lydia’s belly button and the hang of her belly more easily in the lighter color

“Not gonna burst at the seams I hope?” Lydia asked, and Allison laughed, uncomfortably, still more than slightly turned on.

“I don’t think so?”

“All right, I’m gonna put some makeup on. Thanks for your help, Ally.” Lydia blew her a kiss and made her way to the bathroom and Allison fled to the safety of the living room.

An hour later, Allison sat on her laptop, trying to distract herself from the abject humiliation of the evening, but her brain was too fried to really make any progress on her thesis. She was curled up watching The Powerpuff Girls and eating Cheetos when Lydia emerged from her room, done up to the nines with a braided updo, matte red lips, and nude pumps. She was the hottest thing Allison had ever seen.

She froze, handful of puffy cheese snacks on their way to her gaping mouth and stared for probably too long before she coughed awkwardly and said, “Wow.”

“I know, right? See you later, sweetie. Don’t work too hard.”

Lydia blew her a kiss, picked up a jacket and her purse, and disappeared out the door in a flurry of sparkles and expensive perfume. Allison sighed, deeply, slouching more on the couch. She stuffed her mouth full of Cheetos.

Come read the other days u know u want to~

[chubstilinski]

Hi! I was wondering if you ever thought about a Chubby stiles fic where he's sort of the pack mom

I have sort of conflicted feelings on the pack mom!Stiles trope. In that i’ve seen it done very well and I believe Stiles cares for people very deeply but idk that in my personal headcanons he’d take on that group-wide caretaker type role in quite that way…?

THAT BEING SAID… I think Stiles could totally be a pack feeder. Because he’s kinda devious and I think he’d get a total kick out of making sure his pack are nice and well fed. And not for purely altruistic reasons lmao. I think he’d love teasing them all and bringing them treats and giving them his “leftovers”, and of course, watching them slowly but surely grow out of their lacrosse uniforms, their favorite jeans, their leather jackets… 

On pack pizza nights he’d totally take Derek’s credit card and blow like an obscene amount of money on like this gigantic stack of pizzas and breadsticks so that not even the hungriest pack of werewolves could escape without every single belly being packed to bursting with food. 

Yeah. Pack feeder Stiles. *___*

[chubstilinski]

Chubwolf 21 Day 16: Starter Belly / Superchub

21 Days of Chubwolf

This fic may contain Stiles with a tiny starter belly, established relationship Sterek, fit!Derek, belly worship, teasing on both ends, and slight feedisty dirty talk~ PWP basically

Stiles was sprawled on the couch, ridiculously huge punch bowl of Lucky Charms in his hands. He was shoving dripping spoonfuls of cereal into his mouth between giggles at the cartoon he was watching. It was 1pm but he’d probably only recently woken up, judging by his crazy bedhead and stubble. He was in a pair of Star Wars boxers and a worn, too-small T-shirt that didn’t quite cover his belly anymore so there was this little roll of pudge peeking out. Derek stood in the doorway admiring the view until Stiles pushed his glasses up his nose, and said, “Hey, babe,” through a mouthful of food.

Derek dropped his gym bag at the door and toed out of his running shoes before coming to stand in front of his boyfriend, looking him over nice and slow. “Uh, whatcha doin’?’” Stiles asked.

“Just looking.”

A lazy grin spread on Stiles’s face and he stretched out his arms. His T-shirt rode up a little more, so the plump little roll of his belly was out in the open. “See anything you like?”

“You could say that.”

The hand not clutching Stiles’s cereal bowl came up to tug at the hem of Derek’s T-shirt, slightly damp from shower water. Derek leaned in and pressed a kiss to his sugary lips.

He trailed kisses from Stiles’s jaw down to his neck, pleased when he tilted his head back and hummed appreciatively. Stiles lifted his bowl out of the way. “Nice to see you too, big guy.”

Derek dropped down onto the couch beside Stiles, but kept his arm wrapped around him, petting his stomach. He lifted the T-shirt above Stiles’s belly button and said, “Keep eating, don’t mind me.”

“Um, okay.” Stiles’s breath was shallow and he shifted down in his seat to give Derek better access. For a second, Derek thought he might get too distracted to eat like Derek told him to, but Stiles picked up the bowl and kept shoving cereal in his mouth once he got used to the sensation of Derek’s fingers.

He tickled lightly at the trail of dark hair that ran from Stiles’s belly button down below his waistband. “I like when you’re all affectionate,” Stiles said.

“Mhmm,” Derek said, totally enraptured by the way Stiles squirmed under his touch, by the way the light coating of pudge on his belly squished in his hands. He needed to feel it against his lips.

Stiles finished up a big slurp of cereal and set the bowl next to him on the other side of the couch. He hummed deep in his throat, stomach muscles tensing underneath his gut. Derek drew back a little to look up at Stiles. Watched him lick milk off his lips, leaning back with his bloated little stomach exposed, looking satisfied. Derek wanted.

“‘S nice,” Stiles said, eyes fluttering shut.

“Mhm, sure is.” Derek couldn’t resist teasing him a little. He patted the side of Stiles’s stomach to feel it jiggle against his palm and smiled at him. “You’re getting a little soft, Stiles.”

“Wh-at, shut up!” Stiles squawked, half-indignant, half-laughing as he shoved at Derek’s shoulders playfully. “I am not!”

“Yeah?” Derek said, gathering up a nice handful of pudge. “What do you call this then?”

“That… I’m… for your information--” Derek kneaded at his lower belly as he spoke, and Stiles’s hips shifted into it in little helpless movements. “Oh. Um.”

“Yes, Stiles?”

“Okay… well, maybe I’ve been overdoing it a little.” Stiles was blushing, but he was still smiling a little and smelled more like contentment and simmering arousal than embarrassment.

“A little,” Derek huffed, poking Stiles’s belly.

Stiles laughed. “Okay, fine! Whatever. It’s all your fault though so you can’t complain.”

“Not complaining.” Derek spun off the couch and onto the floor, kneeling between Stiles’s soft thighs so he was face to face with Stiles’s gut. He took it in both hands, kneading it from the side. “How is this my fault again?”

Stiles was panting now, looking halfway to blissed out just from Derek touching his belly. He was so sensitive, always had been, but the chubbier parts of him seemed to crave touch, now. His thighs, his ass, his love handles, his softening pecs that Derek just knew would get nice and fat if Stiles kept gaining weight like this.

“You. You’re an enabler, is what you are.”

Derek tried to smother a grin. “Oh yeah? Whatever makes you say that?”

“You know exactly why, asshole. Don’t play innocent with me.” Derek rested his forehead on Stiles’s belly and laughed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He said against Stiles’s skin, running his lips and scruffy cheeks over his stomach.

“Oh, god,” Stiles whispered, trembling. Derek placed a kiss right below his bellybutton and his flesh gave under the light pressure of Derek’s mouth. It was fucking incredible.

Stiles gasped. “Wow, that. That feels good.” He grabbed Derek’s hair and pulled a little, urging him just a little closer. Derek licked at his skin, salty and so, so soft. “Oh.”

Derek pulled back just enough to ask, “Yeah?” before diving back in to kiss Stiles’s belly open-mouthed, tongue stroking against his skin.

“Oh, god. Yeah, really good. Like, holy god.”

Overwhelmed at how much Stiles seemed to be enjoying himself, Derek buried his face in Stiles’s fat, kissing him just on the edge of desperate. It was everything he’d dreamed; warm and plush and doughy. He pulled a little mouthful between his lips and sucked on it, laving it with his tongue.

Stiles gripped the leather of the couch and it creaked in his fists. “Fuck.”

“You’re gonna spill your cereal,” Derek said, smug, and more composed than he actually felt.

Stiles, on the other hand, sounded like a total wreck. Derek leaned back in to plant little kisses on his belly while he spoke. “Ah. Well it’s-it’s a good thing we’ve got like... five more boxes thanks to your last shopping trip, enabler.”

“Wow, you’re gonna waste all my hard earned money like that?”

Stiles laughed, breathless. “Hard-earned, my ass, you rich asshole. Mmm. You’re the-the one who’s distracting me from my delicious cereal heaven, anyway. So again, this is a-all your fault.”

Derek leaned back, rocking against his heels as if to get up. “Oh well if that’s how you really feel…”

But Stiles’s fingers latched onto Derek’s hair and neck, pulling them back in with a grip that might have bruised if his skin wasn’t already healing. “Don’t you fucking dare stop. God.”

Derek grinned, reveling in the scent of lust emanating from Stiles, his rapid heartbeat ringing in his ears. He could feel Stiles’s cock under his chin, begging for attention. But Derek wasn’t done yet.

As he touched Stiles’s with his hands and mouth, reverently, wherever he could reach, Derek thought about how drastically his body had changed, even over these last couple of months. How much his appetite had increased and how all the thousands of extra calories sat now on Stiles’s paunchy little starter belly. Derek’s lips tingled at the feeling of it against them, jiggling slightly with all the impatient little movements of Stiles’s hips.

Stiles’s belly groaned and grumbled, full of food and milk. With his face pressed against it, Derek could hear it so clearly and he wondered if Stiles knew how much it affected him. All of this. If he was too distracted to think about it right then, Derek knew he’d figure it out later. But for now, Stiles was damn near writhing beneath him, as much of a mess as Derek was.

“I hope you know this is going to do nothing whatsoever to make me stop getting f-fatter, ah.”

“Fuck.”

Derek shuddered. The thought made him ache to touch himself, but he couldn’t bare to take either of his hands away from Stiles’s skin. He wondered how he lost the upper hand so quickly, or if he ever really had it in the first place. Of course Stiles would figure him out.

But he smiled, breathed in deep the scent of Stiles’s desperation. He said, “And why would I want to do that?”

“I-I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” he said, one hand petting Derek’s hair. “You want me to keep getting fat, don’t you, Derek?”

Derek could hear the smug smirk in Stiles’s voice, infuriating and hot. He growled in the back of his throat, feeling the prickle of claws against his fingertips, aching to come out. But he held back so he could keep caressing the softness of Stiles’s curves.

“Yeah, that’s right. You wanna fatten me up. That’s why you’re always buying me so much food, huh?”

Derek gasped. He lifted his head to look up at Stiles, who looked debauched but thoroughly amused. Derek could feel his eyes bleed electric blue. “Did you ever think that maybe some of that food was for me?”

“Oh, yeah, my bad. You make sure the house is always stocked with my favorite fatty junk foods because you want to eat it. But somehow you never do. Makes sense.”

“Well you’re the one who eats it all. Don’t blame me for this little belly, that’s all you.”

“Yeah, yeah, just admit it, buddy!”

“Admit what?” Derek raised his eyebrows innocently and teased lightly at Stiles’s gut with his teeth.

“You know what. God-dammit that feels-”

“Okay,” Derek said. He stroked his hands down Stiles’s sides, skimming his love handles and coming to settle on Stiles’s meaty thighs. He couldn’t resist leaning his head down to catch the supple inside of one between his lips. It made Stiles gasp and his hips buck up, needy. His eyebrows drew tight together and he looked about ready to lose it for all that he was snarking at Derek just a few seconds ago.

“Stiles.” Derek realized his own voice has gone throaty and thick, his teeth sharp, filling up his mouth. He closed his eyes, tried to calm down and breathed in deep. In a moment he felt them retract, but he still saw through his wolf eyes when he opened them again.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked. It took Derek a moment to respond. He’d almost forgotten what he’d been trying to say, distracted by the hitched breaths Stiles made when Derek grasped at the fat on his thighs and how from this angle the softness around his face looked more like a double chin.  

“You’re right,” Derek said.

Stiles grinned, triumphantly. “Ah-about what, Derek?”

Derek rolled his eyes, annoyed at having to say it. To give voice to the thoughts that had been plaguing him since Stiles started to gain weight. “I want to,” Derek grit out. “I like you fat.”

“Yeah I kind of got that,” Stiles huffed, too breathless to be a laugh. “But I’m not fat yet, dude.”

Awestruck, Derek brought one hand up to frame Stiles’s belly and repeated, “Yet.”

“Ah, shit. You keep encouraging me like this and I will be.”

“Fuck,” Derek whispered. He hid his face in Stiles’s gut, gulping in strained breaths. Almost without thinking about it, Derek’s free hand slid down to touch himself through the flimsy fabric of the sweats he’d changed into after his shower.

Stiles’s fingers dragged through Derek’s hair and he said, “You want to make me fat, don’t you?”

Derek whined, tracing the outline of his dick, feeling too close just from the thought of it. He lifted his face up and looked into Stiles’s eyes. “Yes. I hoped you would. I want...”

Stiles didn’t look smug anymore. He looked like he was barely holding himself together, like he was almost pained by it, but the overwhelming feeling of Stiles’s lust choking the air had Derek surging up half a second before Stiles grabbed his shirt and slurred, “C’mere.”

He kissed Stiles like his lips gave him the air in his lungs. Like they hadn’t kissed since the first time, sloppy and unrestrained. Derek stood up and cradled Stiles’s jaw in both hands, tilting his head against the back of the couch. Stiles whined and pulled Derek down by his ass and the backs of his thighs until he was straddling Stiles’s waist. He pressed himself flush against Stiles’s belly, its softness against his abs, and he started to grind into it in helpless little thrusts.

His human teeth grazed Stiles’s bottom lip and it made him let out a shaky moan. Derek put his mouth to Stiles’s ear and said, “I want to make you fat.”

Stiles moaned again, loud. He was gripping Derek’s muscular thighs and letting out little sounds on almost every breath, noisy like he got when he was close. Derek rocked his ass against Stiles’s dick, his own trapped in the cushion of Stiles’s belly fat. He was close too.

“Can I tell you something?” Stiles whispered, voice low and gravelly against Derek’s temple. “Oh, fuck. I. I’m--”

“Stiles.”

“Ah-I want you to. God, I want. Want you to fatten me up, Derek.”

Derek shuddered and kissed him, filthy wet. That confession was ringing in Derek’s ears; Thoughts of Stiles bigger, fatter were echoing in his mind’s eye. A pulse of heat rushed through him; He came grinding against Stiles’s belly, so suddenly it shocked the air out of his lungs.

And then Derek was slumped against Stiles, pliant and loose, but Stiles was still restless beneath him. He groaned and thrusted up against him, gripping Derek’s ass to move him just where he wanted, and then Stiles was coming too, whispering, “Fuck, fuck, Derek.”

One of Derek’s hands wound up against the side of Stiles’s little potbelly, patting him absently as he shivered through aftershocks. He rubbed his cheek against Stiles’s throat, nuzzling, scenting him.

“Freak,” Stiles said, lovingly.

“Takes one to know one.”

“Oh my god, you loser. What are you, ten? Anyway you’re not allowed to call me a freak. Not when you want me to get fat for you, what the hell, honestly.”

Stiles shifted under his hands like the feeling was still making him crazy, like he could get hard again soon. Derek grinned. “But you want to. So like I said, takes one to know one.”

He rolled his eyes. “Pff, whatever. You’re the one who gave me the idea. You were all, you know,” Stiles flailed his hands, “Into it. It sort of stuck in my head, you know? And one thing led to another… And, okay, maybe I would’ve gotten there myself eventually, because it’s pretty. Wow, awesome. For real. I don’t want you to think I’m not into it, cause I’m like all in. But still. I still say you’re the freakier freak.”

“Okay,” Derek laughed. “You knew? Before?”

“I had my suspicions. Also you should learn to delete your browser history.”

Derek swatted at Stiles’s shoulder lightly. “You went through my browser history?”

“It was an accident!” Stiles yells, laughing.

“Sure it was.”

“It totally was! Sort of. But you get a big fat boyfriend out of it, that’s gotta count for something.”

Derek looked down at his fingers poking at Stiles’s little belly and tried to hide his smile. “I don’t know… Like you said, you’re not really fat yet. I think you’re gonna have to make it up to me.”

“Oh yeah? How’s that?”

“Hmm. How about I make you something to eat?”

“Oh my god, seriously? That’s my punishment? Derek. Babe. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Derek grinned at his boyfriend, but something in his expression must’ve read as predatory because Stiles suddenly looked a little wary. “Oh my god what?”

“Nothing. I just hope you’re hungry, Stiles.”

“Pff, is that a challenge? Come on, you know me. I’m always hungry.” Stiles poked his chest. “Bring it on. Do your worst, wolfy.”

Derek couldn't help himself. He kissed Stiles deeply, loving the way his slight softness felt between his thighs and under the palms of his hands. But Stiles pulled away, lips slick and said, “Now come on, chop chop.” He patted Derek’s ass. “I’m not gonna get fat from awesome sex, okay? Actually, maybe I could. We could have all the food sex. Oh my god. This is gonna be awesome-”

Derek kissed him quiet.

Click here to read the other days~

[chubstilinski]

Yes! Glad you took the pregnancy idea and ran with it. Is this Sterek? Cause I could totally see Stiles developing a pseudo pregnancy kink. Just knowing that if someone is pregnant he gets fat, stuffing sex with Derek, who loses the pounds afterwards

i want u to know that my first thoughts go to sterek about 90% of the time so like even if i don’t specify sterek is always a safe bet lolol

ahhhh. but ok so i can totally see Derek doing a yo-yo dieting type thing? Not even necessarily on purpose just that he’s not eating quite so much when one of his packmates aren’t pregnant and he gets back into running and whatnot. But then the next time, Derek swells up even bigger and fatter than before...

Also I’m thinking like, what I wanted for the pack situation is for psuedo-separate packs but that they’re like joint-packs all connected and whatnot. So it’s sort of like they’re one big pack unit but kind of not? Idk if that even makes sense but guess who doesn’t really care? This guy. 

Anyway the point being, that Derek puts on a bit of weight when one of Scott’s pack are pregnant also so there is just a lot of weight gain going on ok, and Stiles is alllll kinds of into it of course

[chubstilinski]

sodomymcscurvylegs*tumblr*com/image/129248920153 Imagine Derek taking before and after pictures of him stuffing to send to Stiles while he is away at college to encourage/torment him.

YUM PLS. Ok I’m gonna write a thing bc I can’t resist

Stiles is slouched in his desk as his professor drones monotonously in the front of the classroom. It’s dark except for the projector screen, and Stiles’s eyes are grainy and squinty with lack of sleep. He taps his pen with one hand and palms his phone with the other, debating on whether or not anyone would notice if he just checked Facebook real quick. 

The screen lights up and Stiles hides it further under his desk. He takes a look around the classroom and thumbs open the lock without looking. 

When he peers down, his eyes go wide and he jumps trying to hide the screen and ends up dropping his phone on the floor with an obnoxious clatter. 

Thankfully it lands face down because otherwise, the people turning to stare at him would be able to see a glorious shot of Derek gripping his pudgy belly in the bathroom mirror. 

Stiles mumbles, “Sorry, sorry,” and scrambles to pick up his phone. He’s unable to resist sneaking a quick look at the pic before he locks the screen and puts it back in his pocket. Eventually no one’s paying attention to him any longer and he lets out a breath, relieved. 

Stiles licks his lips, thinking about Derek’s little belly, how quickly he’s been plumping up since he realized Stiles was into it. He’s sure there wasn’t nearly that much to grab last time Derek had visited and Stiles was practically salivating thinking about getting his hands on his boyfriend’s perfect fat body. 

It occurs to Stiles that he’s half-mast and shifting in his seat and he’s got 15 minutes still, ‘til the end of class. 

In an effort to preserve some dignity, he picks up his pen again and tries to focus on taking notes, on the steady, insufferably boring cadence of the professor’s voice, instead of the pic-spam Stiles is sure is flooding his inbox. 

When class lets out, Stiles bolts out of his desk, trips on someone’s bag while struggling to shove his own over his shoulders, nearly knocks a girl over on his way out the door. He speed-walks in the opposite direction of traffic, looking for a more secluded part of the hallway, and finds a little alcove by the water fountains. 

Impatiently, he opens his conversation with Derek and takes a more lingering look at the selfie he’d sent earlier. On the way he’s getting so much flabbier and plush than Stiles had imagined he would. And there’s two more, one in the same mirror from the side, his belly soft and empty. He’s about to text Derek that he should eat something, but the next picture is of an absolute feast. 

Two huge pizzas covered in toppings, garlic knots, Oreos, chips, and a six-pack of those expensive craft brews Derek likes. It has Stiles salivating. Not because it looks delicious, even though it does, but because he’s imagining what Derek will look like with every last bite packed into his gut, what he’ll look like next week when all those calories are permanently settled into his belly, his thighs, his love handles. 

He texts Derek, Holy shit dude I was in class what the hell do you want me to publicly embarrass myself or something

God you’re so hot

Are you gonna eat all that? Greedy greedy

Derek just responds with a selfie of him grinning huge, holding a slice of pizza next to his rounded face. 

Stiles has to splash cool water on his own sweaty face before he walks back down the hallway, and up the stairs to his next class. He has a bit of downtime before it starts, and he spends a lot of it talking with Scott. It’s the only class they managed to get together this semester, and he’s usually on board for more Scott time, but he’s a little distracted today. He keeps glancing at his phone but Derek doesn’t text him again. Not until he’s half an hour into his lecture. 

He sees his screen light up where it’s perched on his knee under the table. He scrambles to grab it and tilt his body and phone strategically. This class is in a lecture hall and the lights are on, so he’s got less visibility to the professor but more to the people sitting behind him. He doesn’t open the conversation, just looks at them on his lock screen, the little thumbnails of the pics that come pouring in, one more gorgeous than the other. 

Scott leans in towards him and whispers, “Dude, what’s with you today? Is it Derek?” 

Scott waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, okay.” Stiles clutches his phone tighter to his chest. “It’s Derek. He’s- nothing’s with me. 

“Yeah, that’s why you’ve been acting even spazzier than usual.”

“I am not, shut up.”

“Ah, young love.”

“Shut up, dude, oh my god.” 

Stiles waits, and waits, and waits (it feels like hours, but realistically, it’s probably more like a minute) for Scott to stop making kissy faces and actually pay attention to Finstock. It’s honestly a miracle it even happens, at all. 

He surreptitiously pulls out his phone again and scrolls down the lock screen. There are pics of Derek with food in his mouth, pics of him resting back on the couch, belly swollen in front of him, pics of empty boxes and packages, of his belly in Derek’s point of view, jutting out dramatically in front of him. There are texts that say, So full, and You’re making me fat, Stiles. 

And just like that, Stiles is hard. 

That’s when he gets smacked in the face with a wadded up ball of paper and professor Finstock yells, “Bilinski!”

“Ow.”

“Stop sexting back there and pay attention to my lecture!” 

Stiles’s face burns. “I wasn’t! I mean, I was just, uh-”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass, Bilinski, put your damn phone away or I’ll hold you in contempt!”

“What.” 

“Don’t make me ask again!” 

“Yes, coach.”

Stiles feels his flush all the way down to his toes. He hears the snickers of the other students as he slides down in his chair and puts away his phone. He feels the heat of arousal warring with complete embarrassment and he’s tingly all over. 

Somehow he makes it until the end of class, makes it until he waves Scott off to his next class, and is in the courtyard walking to his dorm before he looks at the pics again. He nearly swoons. 

Stiles is staring at a particularly impressive shot comparing Derek’s belly before stuffing and after, when the screen switches. Derek’s calling him. He fumbles with the answer button, brings the phone up to his face, and says, “You asshole, were you like waiting until I was in class to send those, oh my god.”

“Maybe,” Derek says. Stiles can hear the annoying grin in his voice. 

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t. But I’ll make it up to you. Get to your dorm as quick as you can and get on Skype. You can watch me eat this ice cream.” 

It’s easy to hear Derek’s heavy panting between words, how slow he’s speaking as if it’s a little bit of a struggle. “Fuck. Fuck. You’re a menace.” 

“See you in a few minutes, Stiles.” 

[chubstilinski]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Derek indulges too much at a pack dinner and is so full he can't get up. Thankfully, Stiles lends him a hand.

Nothing new dudes, but I posted a slightly edited version of the temporary immobility fic on AO3