#chub-writings

[cheeseburgersinparadise]

y’all I’m just so obsessed with hot fat guys eating too much and burping I don’t know what else to tell you 

[mitsundere]

Imagine sweet Geppie with a partner who loves giving people gifts but absolutely spoils him.

Serval and Lynx get regular-sized boxes of chocolate. Gepard? He gets a box of sweets and chocolates wider than his chest.

What's that? All the Silvermane Guards received a lunchbox? Gepard gets a tiered lunchbox that fills him up until dinner.

hi, hope you guys don't mind me combining these asks! i think they're similar enough to be put together :D

-

gepard was a popular young man. he had it all; status, strength, physical appearance— majority of the population favored him people from the overworld did, at least, but everyone knew that their favor could never be comparable to the love that the captain's partner gave.

trinkets were of no use to the frontlines, nor were ugly sweaters (though you wished he would wear something more thick and comfy to combat the cold). so whenever gepard arrives home from work, he's always greeted by something new that you bought or made for him. he appreciates that you make an effort to give gifts to his sisters (and pela) as well. there's a framed photo of you guys wearing matching sweater designs in serval's workshop, and he can't help but gaze softly at the memory every time he visits.

he'd always have the most extravagant gifts, though. his sisters know it, all of the guards know it, dear qlipoth— he's sure that the entire population of belobog knows it as well. a painting in his image (with all of his medals), rare flower seeds (he doesn't know where you got them, not even lynx could find that kind of flower in her expeditions), brand new boots, art materials... gepard appreciates it all, but sometimes it's too much!

even after he brings it up with you, there's one type of gift that he wouldn't mind regularly receiving— the meals you made for him. it brings him a sense of home when he's at work. even if they get cold from the unforgiving belobogian temperatures, he still feels the warmth and love from your cooking. you'd often get carried away with making lunches for him, and you decided to send the extras with him for some of the guards.

on most days, he shares it with them. gepard was proud of your skills, and he knows that your delicious cooking would certainly boost morale. sometimes, it's not enough that he has the biggest lunchbox and most meat out of the packed lunches. he saves one or two extras for himself instead of sharing, though he would never tell you about it.

and everyone notices that the captain became just a tad bit softer after being spoiled with your gifts. on days that he worries about being out of shape, you comfort him. "there's more for me to grab and love" you say, and he lets himself be hugged and smothered with your affections.

[chubs-deuce]

Does anyone have tips for writing when you have a tendency to get stuck too easily?

I have like 8 wips started that I can hardly make any progress on...

My biggest issues right now are either that what I write doesn't feel "right" and I get hung up between "I should just rewrite this" and "rewriting costs more energy than I have available to me rn" or I run out of ideas of what points to fill a scene with when the rough concept isn't very detailed on its own :')

I feel like I used to have such a good workflow and could even punch out whole chapters within a week, but at this point I'm lucky when I write a whole sentence in less than a month...

Idk what happened and it's incredibly frustrating :(

[caressthosecheekbones]

"Alex."

"Yeah, baby?"

"The shorts.."

"What's with the shorts?"

"They're too. short."

"Lemme see..."

Henry steps out from behind the curtain, a deep frown on his face while his fingers are fumbling the hems of the indeed quite short shorts.

2 inch inseam indeed.

He doesn't achieve his goal of covering more of his generous thighs and Alex loves it. A lot.

"Well I think..." crowding into the personal space of his welcoming boyfriend he reaches for Henry's thighs with a hungry look in his eyes and what can be only described as grabby hands.

"... they're the perfect length and you look delicious."

Alex's gorgeous dimple and flirty eyebrow twitch while he playfully pushes Henry back into the cabin makes all the blood rush to his usually pale face and he swallows hard.

"Thank you love, but I'm not sure..." his fingers playing with the buttons on Alex's short-sleeved shirt now, eyes trying to find the right words in the space between his collarbones.

Alex deposits a rather sweet kiss on his lips, followed by the cutest nose rub but eyes attentive as his hands continue to map out the mounds of Henry's thighs and ass.

Slowly and thoroughly.

Meanwhile the sentence drops unfinished to the carpeted floor of the dressing room.

"Well I am sure I think you should get them." Alex concludes.

"But I'll get chub rub."

"Chub what?"

"You know.. my thighs. They'll rub against each other and it'll hurt-"

"Oh baby, I will soothe the burn with my tongue, promise..." this next kiss is more heated, Alex takes one of Henry's thighs and presses forward, lifting it to his hip and slipping a finger underneath the inner seam.

Henry's surprised little moan against his tongue his favourite tune.

"... or maybe you should only wear them at home anyway."

His voice is low and hoarse against Henry's lips, his illegal eyelashes lowered and Henry could not stop looking at him if his life depended on it.

"Cannot have you parade around like a lush cupcake, people will walk into oncoming traffic when they'll see you like this."

Henry laughs, pressing his forehead against Alex's and folds both arms behind his neck, caressing his hairline as he leans in for another kiss.

"Okay, I'll wear them only at home." Henry murmurs teasingly.

His eyes shine with mirth and he's grinning now. "I think the lower kitchen cabinets need a proper scrub actually."

"I like the sound of that, baby..."

[fatguarddog]

No pain no gain

That was your motto when you still went to the gym, back when you were in shape. Now the only shape you are is round.

Now that every day is cheat day. Now that you've swapped your protein shakes for weight gain shakes. Now that your gym clothes look ridiculous on your big fat body.

You lay back in your comfy chair, your overstuffed belly dominating your view with empty plates piled up around you. You can hear your feeder joyfully preparing a cake shake for you in the kitchen, knowing they're about to come top up your gut that's stretched so tight it hurts and just how sweetly they'll come and rub it as they push the funnel past your lips and whisper in your ear,

"No pain no gain."

[siberat]

Feeding Competition chapter 2

here’s the conclusion to ambu.lon’s night of vor.tex’s food… and feeding. Can he survive being fed by such a vile ‘co.n? Will ai.d be impressed by what he manages to consume? Read to find out!

[i-like-juice]

Push me

As I grow, watch the light of creativity and focus leave my eyes. My brow relax and stay relaxed. Press your fingers into my forehead and push me back onto the couch. Just barely any force is needed as just as I start to tip back, my knees give and I don't even bother resisting the loss of my stance. Falling back down into a soft pile where I belong, my hips and belly sloshing outwards and then flowing in and upwards like splashing water. Hearing that wonderfully slutty trigger of me cacking and tearing open the fabric of the stretchiest shorts we could find. My favorite. My hip and butt fat greedily expanding in as new space opens. Hold me down by just a few fingers on my forehead. I'll forget why I wanted to be anywhere else, we'll smother out that tiny ember of agency before it gets too out of hand. Yes I can feel my inner voice dying down again, good so annoying. My mouth hangs down slow and stupidly, drool moistening my lower lip. Hungry.

[simply-sithel]

Gifts by @chubsonthemoon [link]

An adorable story that made me happy to read- never mind that I'm unfamiliar with the fandom, the sentiment was universal. Twas very sweet and an exceptionally well suited gem to set within the form of a crafted & gifted item.

The color guidance on this one was tropical island, a very verdant green. Always oh so pleasing to find that perfect little patch of print to fussy cut. Origami paper is excellent for the minis, being so thin and all. An extra small mini- with 2,153 words, it only came out to 39 pages (that 28lb paper really helps bulk out the wee ones)

[chubs-deuce]

Me: it's just a fanfic, it doesn't have to be that detailed or realistic

My perfectionism: But what point is there in digging into the topics of identity and personhood and differing perspectives of what it means to be human if you're not gonna write them with the nuance and complexity these things deserve to be told with? The unique vantage point of a machine being merged with the person its consciousness was copied from and the conjunction of the experience being both familiar and yet completely alien because he consciously can't remember his life from before while his body absolutely does while trying to survive in and escape a sci-fi dystopia setting is a concept that cannot be wasted on anything but being explored it to its fullest potential

My perfectionism: so if you don't give this your absolute best shot we are a pussy ass writer and I'm never going to forgive you and eternally torment you with the regret of knowing that this could've been done better

Me, writing an OC-centric story for a mid tier portal 2 fanmod from 2017 that barely anyone even remembers (for fun)(in my free time)(unpaid): you're right how could I ever question you, holy shit, it's perfection or death

[ritunn]

Commissioned from Robin

While trying a new diet and preparing for her Wizards & Wyverns game, Cassandra found herself take on a more opulent, draconic, and pudgy form that what she was typically used to as she felt compelled to consume more and more of the food she'd purchased. When all was said and done, let us say game was canceled and she went looking for a bigger mirror.

Inspired by a very old personal writing piece I did you can check out here!

[zz-chikorita]

Thought of a random idea/ au sort of dealio where post sun/moon, after Team Skull gets disbanded, Guzma goes and lives as a recluse on Mount Lanakila because fuck people and also the ultra beasts aren't able to sense him there for some reason. His pokemon don't come out of their balls often, all being bugs and unadapted for the cold so his day to day life is going out into the snow by himself to gather/chop wood, forage, etc. He only rarely goes to the mountain's pokécenter for supplies since it's like a full day's hike from his cabin.

He keeps himself mostly covered up so people don't realize it's him, but they still avoid and are cautious of him because he's just this very large, scary, hermit.

Anyways, blah, blah, blah, insert your favorite blorbo here gets lost/injured in the snow and wakes up in a cabin, roaring fire, is offered a mug of tapu cocoa by the person who rescued them yada yada yada- Oh this guy is kinda cute, he doesn't talk much but he's very kind- something, something takes off his many layers of warm, winter clothes and he's covered in gang tattoos and other ink OH NO HE'S HOT (and also a former crime lord which is a little terrifying but like he's really just a chill dude and wants to be left alone why is everyone afraid of him?)

[siberat]

Xmas Treat

So, one tradition Rat/chet and Dri/ft do is find any reason to celebrate. Usually, Cybertr/onians do not recognize the human tradition of Christmas; it’s more of a solstice celebration. Still, if there is any excuse for Dr/ft to spend time in the kitchen cooking and baking, he’ll take it. Rat/chet is finishing his shift in the med bay, and the busy chef has every burner on his stove and even the oven going. He has cooking down to a science, and soon his lover pings him that he is on his way back.

Perfect timing: the food is ready to be plated!

For the holiday meal, he cooked a cyber-turkey with all the sides. A large serving of the hot, tender cyber-meat is plated up consisting of big slivers of the breast, the CM/O’s favorite. A mound of sandstone stuffing seasoned with feldspar flakes and mashed crystal potatoes flavored with rich calcite are added. A large ladle full of thick, brown-colored stock gravy is splashed over these three, soaking them in savory and aromatic goodness. For an added crunch, ener-beans coated in coquina are added as well as something sweet: crystal cranberry slivers.

The heaping plate is set on the table, and the second plate placed on the opposite side is less full. Of course, seconds were available, but Dr/ift had no problem fixing his conjunx’s plate for him. He loved seeing the dish get filled again with all the pretty colors of the food and delicious smells. And Dr/ift being the sap he is, lit some candles and poured a tall glass of Engex for the medic. He poured some non-engex drink for himself to enjoy.

The door swooshed open just as the sword/smech set his drink on the table. Rat/chet was home and wore a smile on his face as he smelt the meal. His supplies were quickly discarded as he sat at the table, eyeing up all the tasty food. Of course, the medic exclaimed he did not have to go all out on him like this like he always says. And Dr/ift always responds the same way: it's never a problem ensuring the love of his life is well fed.

The pair eat their meal. While there is some chit-chat, most of the time is enjoyed savoring the food. A chorus of hums and lip-smacking is heard, signaling what an excellent job the TIC did cooking the meal. Once the medic’s plate is cleared, Dri/ft lovingly asks if he wants more, which Rat/chet cannot deny. A second plate is fixed and set down, both mechs smiling.

Dr/ift doesn’t return to his seat: he finished his meal. Instead, he leans over behind the medic’s chair, rubbing his servos down the medic’s chest, tracing seams as the touch travels down to the much-rounder tummy. What was once flat now bulged in such soft, squishy delightfulness! And this was what Dr/ift loved to grope and knead. The warm flab accumulated not only on the front of his abdomen but also on the sides. Love handles gathered and spilled over his hip plating; some even began squishing out the back. The medic’s lap would hold the swell of his growing belly, the bottom roll resting perfectly on top of thickened thighs.

And no part of this belly went untouched. First to be caressed was the crest, hands circling around its vast curves. Next, the chub crease would be traced, then prodded: this fold of fat was the desired place to warm chilled servos, much to the owner’s displeasure-who would want cold hands in there stealing your heat? This chub crease formed when the medic sat and was the deepest at his sides, then the fold tapered as it reached out to the front of the paunch.

But one of the most joyous places to grope was the side flab. This plump section was always the softest, in Dr/ift’s humble opinion. The chub here was ever so soft and squishy like it was a stress relief toy. And the swords/mech loved to squeeze the love handles between his servos! But what came next was also Dri/ft’s favorite (it is really hard to choose just one): the heavy, firm, but still soft, lower belly flab that sat upon the lap. Now, the correct way to fondle this mass was to slip your hands on the underside to properly feel the heaviness of the mass. Some jostling was good: doing so showed off the jiggly belly nicely. Once servos reached the front, they would set out to caress the rounded roll, enjoying the heft of the gut and feeling the hint of thighs on the other side. This part took a lot of the TI/C’s attention. His hands would adoringly rub over this swollen mass, starting with delightful small circles but broadening their surface area to incorporate the belly. Playful slaps and pats would ensue, and gently hitting the flab gave off such a soothing sound.

Even better was if the belly was noisy: much to Dri/ft’s enjoyment, there was growling and whining present today. The stomach gurgled its delight at being given such tasty food to enjoy and a lot of it. With each lovely, deep-sounding rumble, Dr/ift swore he felt the belly vibrate within his servos. It was as if this stomach had a mind of its own and took it upon itself to tease him in every possible way! Soon, said belly began to gurgle in a particular way as if something was building up inside. Don’t worry; the sword/smech knew what this was. Using two digits, tight little circles were pressed into the growing flab. The touch moved locations slightly and repeated. It didn’t take long for the gas bubbles to make a break for their freedom, and the medic loudly barked out a burp.

Dri/ft loved watching his lover belch. In many cultures, belching was compliments to the chef, signaling a perfect meal. However, no matter how much reassurance the TI/C gave, the medic always flushed slightly as releasing such loud burps. And Dr/ift couldn’t get enough of that shy look adorned by his lover, along with the reddening of his cheeks with a hint of an embarrassed smile. Remember, Dri/ft can be sappy, so this usually turned his insides into goo!

Once supper was finished and no more was desired, Dri/ft would lovingly pat at the firmer, swelled belly, telling what a good job it did consuming all this food. Ratc/het would sit back, weighed down by his stuffed belly, ready for a nap. But there was no rest for the weary because once the dinner plates were cleared, out came the dessert plates: loaded with sweet cakes, pastries, pies, and other assortments of delicacies. The medic couldn’t say no to his belly growling and rumbling, demanding to be filled with such rich goodness. And naturally, Dr/ift stood with utensils at the ready: he was not about to disappoint. He was prepared to feed these scrumptious-looking deserts into that demanding belly, and Ratc/het was excited.

...........

Hope everyone has a great holiday! Stay safe and warm!

[i-like-juice]

Why I love squashing

I love sitting on and overflowing someone's lap. Or just any part of their anatomy really. As you grow you obviously get softer and wider but sometimes it's hard to appreciate your own transformation and growth even in mirrors or going over your own pictures and videos. When I'm in contact with someone else, the way I flow over them feels so amazing but what gets me is the way I can see myself. That cool sensation of skin on skin, slightly damp from perspiration or contact with my warm overly insulated body on theirs. I can feel it across so much of me in new directions as I contour to their body. It creates this mental map of myself that gives such an incredible sense of myself. There's also all those wonderful subtle gestures in body language that are so much louder with how I closely my softness presses into every inch it can find. Our bodies sharing our emotions to eachother in such a lovely and quite way. And my favorite, the way I can feel their muscles tone change as I relax more of myself onto them giving that wonderfully intoxicating sensation of mass. Yes, struggle and strain while I lounge and soften out. Playfully asking the question, "I'm not too heavy am I?"

[no-see-um-incorrect]

I DONT WANT WEREWOLVES I WANT WEREBEARS

you see media about werewolves all the time I don’t want that I’m sick of it I want WEREBEARS

-Soft squishy, bear Boi good for cuddles

-bearhugs

-Forest picnic dates.

Y’all are skipping out on the werebear 



[authoresswillowraine]

Bless Your Heart

[TW: Explicit language, gun usage, blood, death]

The night was pitch black and the smell of fresh death hung in the air. It enveloped me and permeated my senses to the point of being damn near overwhelming. The velvety copper scent was so thick I could all but taste it on my tongue. My mouth watered more with each forward step.

Blood. A lot of fucking blood.

If I had a pulse, it would’ve quickened. My long still heart wanted to pound inside my chest. It was like a wild thing clamoring to break free from its cage made of bone and flesh. Good thing it wasn’t possible.

A warm breeze danced over my cool skin, and whipped my long, thick black hair around my face. The faint sound of thunder roared from a few miles away. The storm was headed for me, not that I was frightened to be out in it. Storms energized supernatural beings and I was no exception. I relished the feeling of the electricity that played upon the wind. I knew it was getting closer with each passing second until it was right above me. A deafening ‘CRACK’ brought me up short, and I shot bolt right up in my bed.

Whoever says vampires ‘die’ at daybreak and that we don’t sleep, nor dream was either lying or believed everything fiction said about us. I slept – even snored and I dreamt in vivid details. Usually, it took me several long minutes to fully come back to reality upon waking.

The storm, however, was very real and had worked itself into my subconscious to play in my dream. The lightning was fierce and flashed brightly in my pale gray eyes. It broke through my new “guaranteed” blackout curtains – which I made a mental note of. That could be a safety issue if the sunlight ever shone through them for lesser or younger vampires. Sunlight didn’t kill even the youngest among us, but it was uncomfortable and at times, painful. It could cause hives or burns in younger vampires or weaker ones. For older, Master vampires like me it was little more than an annoyance. I didn’t enjoy the sunlight, but it wasn’t detrimental to my health in any way. Sunshades were all I required to combat the discomfort. But I hated the heat and didn’t feel much more kind about the cold. I preferred Fall.

‘Fuck.’ I thought, still salivating from the copious amounts of blood in my dream. The craving motivated me to get out of bed and do something about it before it got to be overbearing. I checked the clock on my phone: 3:21 A.M. I had gotten two whole hours of sleep before I was jolted awake. Once I was awake I played hell at going back to sleep, so it was going to be a long day for me.

My bare feet shuffled across the luxurious carpet on my bedroom floor before they hit the warming tiles of the hall that led into my kitchen. Most of the flooring throughout my home was heated. Except for the bedrooms which were all thick, lavish carpeting that matched the rest of the décor in them.

I kept emergency blood in my fridge from willing donors, which after a little heating up, would work. I preferred to feed from a living being, but I wasn’t one to call and request it at this hour. Unlike some Master Vampires, I also didn’t keep a house of willing ‘feedees’ at my beck and call. My modest home – at least from the outside- was my oasis. My sanctuary. I seldom let anyone gain entry, and those that did were trusted confidants. There were very few humans who’d had access to my home, and none who had been there by anything other than free will. I didn’t like to use my vampire powers to feed or get laid. It wasn’t my thing, because it was rape, no two ways about it. It didn’t matter if I was taking blood or having sex, consent was a requirement, not an option. I didn’t bring home ‘just anyone.' If I did that may require compulsion at the very least and wiping their memories after they left me at worst. Both of which would be rape in that scenario. No, I had willing sources and lovers, but I wasn’t up to either this night.

The best device I had found to warm the refrigerated blood was a baby bottle warmer. Don’t laugh, it worked. I could heat it to whatever temperature was my preference without scalding my mouth. You only heat the blood too long in the microwave once before learning your lesson. Blood scalds and because it’s so thick it burns far more than an instant. Luckily I healed almost immediately but it doesn’t mean I didn’t feel the pain.

As I waited for my blood to reach the perfect temperature I mulled over the dream I couldn’t shake. I had a few witches I could call upon to decipher the dream. Villia, my favorite of them all, would tell me that my instincts about what the dream meant would be more accurate than anything she could tell me. I liked any advice that told me to trust myself. After all, I had kept myself 'alive' for over four hundred years, so I couldn’t be too awful at this gut instinct thing.

I had a nagging feeling that the dream was a premonition of something bad. That dark times were ahead. Of course, I hoped like hell I was wrong, but until it happened there was no way for me to prepare. I just had to wait and see. Premonitions were the least reliable of my skillset. That sucked because it seemed like it could be one of the most useful powers if I could harness it better.

I made a mental note to ask Villia about premonition. She’d be able to help me sharpen my ability or have an idea of who could assist in that area. I wasn’t sure why I hadn’t asked her before now. Another myth about us, not so mythical creatures? We were reborn with all the cool powers, like superheroes, but painted like villains.

The truth was, we came over with anything from zero extrasensory gifts, to several but not all. There were ways we could gain extra powers, and none in a pleasant manner. To enjoy gaining power, one had to find their true pairing. Doing that was about as likely as finding a hay-colored needle in a haystack. Chances are slim to none, that is.

Blood ingested; my mind no longer raced. I grabbed my remote and clicked on the television to keep me company. Once upon a time, I’d fallen into the couch potato trap. That phase had caused a bout of depression that I thought was going to put an end to my long existence. I had no idea how people made it their go-to for entertainment.

I had every channel and streaming service, yet only watched enough television so I could carry on a conversation. I avoided mainstream media like the plagues I had gotten through unscathed. If you know, you know. Instead, I kept up on news from independent and reliable sources – contacts on the inside. I knew World leaders, politicians, and their right hands. I knew military members, indie reporters, and had those types of connections. It was far more reliable and way less sensational.

The television now offered a soft glow and soothing murmuring of a random infomercial so that I no longer sat in complete silence. This was the only time I felt the deep loneliness settle into my bones. The stillness of the night and early morning hours when I only had myself to keep me company. These are the hours when I’d love to be able to wrap my arms around someone. When I wanted to experience what some of those closest to me had explained with goofy smiles on their faces. A sense of peace, of wonder, that they had found another being who added to their happiness. Unconditional love for those of them lucky enough to have it. Those relationships seemed to be rare among everyone I knew, however. We lived in what the younger generations referred to as a hookup culture. Sex had become God; love was far down the list. I understood it, somewhat. As much as I craved someone when the loneliness crept in, I had fought hard not to have anything substantial. Sex was easy, and a need. Love was something that made you weak if you allowed it. I couldn’t afford to be weak. I had too many people depending on me for their entire existence. I would not risk anyone else, let alone everyone else to abate my passing bouts of loneliness.

My eyelids drooped and I let my head fall back against the back of my bright white, overstuffed couch. I was miraculously about to doze off when a feeling washed over me. It was a warning. Someone was around the perimeter of my home, and they weren’t familiar. They wanted something, and it had to be something pressing to bring them out in an electrical storm. I was up, gun in the waistband of my pajama bottoms before they had a chance to knock on my door.

Country, gun-toting, mamaw loving, dad-bod having Vampires? Hell yes! I've got you covered. First 3 episodes will be FREE on Vella. Subscribe to see where Giddeon goes, and how well an almost 7 ft tall, country boy vampire fits in.

[chubs-deuce]

Me talking to my friends abt the pacing and plot structure struggles I have with my fic and incomprehensively ranting about whatever fresh new writing dilemma I've meneuvered myself into this time