fat shane hollander🧎!!

Back when Shane was pregnant for the first time, being mid-way already with a cute, round bump, he'd prided himself in never getting anything but healthy cravings. And any other craving he may get, he knew how to control himself, he didn't need unnecessarily sugary or greasy snacks when he knew what his body and baby needed.

Back then in the day, Shane had been one big fat liar. He'd get unhealthy cravings like any pregnant person, intense, ridiculous, disgusting cravings.

Sometimes he'd space out while watching a McDonald's ad, seeing the person on TV holding a monstrous burger and looking the happiest anyone has ever been while they bite into it, somehow without destroying the whole thing, with how decadent the fillings are. The magic of TV, Shane guessed. He also told himself it was the magic of TV that made it look so delicious and made a pit appear in his stomach, one that he wanted to fill with burgers and warm crispy fries. Maybe a milkshake, or a large soda. Homemade was good, but there was an added something to fast food that Shane simply wanted– needed to have. The baby wanted it, so Shane… he needed to get it.

One shameful, shameful afternoon after work he goes to a drive-thru in a brightly illuminated KFC, because Shane has standards and some part of him believes that fast food fried chicken is healthier than whatever they make regular burgers of. He's purchased a simple chicken burger (a Zinger, he has to say), fries, and a large Cherry Berry milkshake, according to the advertising, with real berries puree in it.

After he parks away from the entrance, in a darker corner of the parking lot, he carefully unwraps his burger, unconsciously licking his lips. He shouldn't. He shouldn't and he's going to anyways.

The first bite was almost orgasmic, which was ridiculous in itself. Shane has never moaned this way when eating. The baby kicks in what can only be contentment, and he's briefly reminded why he's doing this. He smiles down at his belly, rubbing a hand where he'd more or less felt the kick inside.

“It's good, right?”

He gives his burger a bite again, a large one that carves a serious dent into it. He should pace it, if just because he knows he won't get this indulgence again, though a deeper part of him knows that maybe he will.

He picks some fries and chews with gusto, crunchy and tasty.

He's seen Ilya do this; he stuffs some fries into the burger and bites into it.

Fuck, it’s amazing.

In a couple more bites the burger is gone, and Shane’s left staring mournfully at his empty hand, with a bit of stray mayo and lettuce scraps on his fingers. He licks then clean, before picking the rest of the small fries and working through them in less than a minute.

What are even these portions?!

He frowns at the empty oil-stained bag as he racks his fingers through the remaining speckles of salt. He brings them to his mouth too.

Then he catches the forgotten milkshake. Right, the healthy thing, to balance a little, right.

He sips a little taste, then begins drinking it quickly. It's rich and sweet and doesn't taste at all like Shane's forest berries smoothie, but it's delicious nonetheless, amazing in its own right.

When he's done slurping the last few drops, he sits back, letting out a deep sigh. He feels pleasantly full and satisfied, despite the teeny tiny portions (or maybe Shane's just a big man with big hands, and those are regular portions). There's a pleasant buzz in the back of his mind, which he attributes to finally relenting and giving his baby what she wanted. Maybe now she'll finally leave him in peace.

She doesn't. If all, now that Shane knows what this craving actually tastes like, he wants more. He's left staring up at the ceiling at midnight that same night, thinking about a chicken burger, some fries and a large milkshake. The menu offered more options, some ridiculously sweet, candy ones, and others fruit-based. Shane wants to try a stupid candy flavor, like… oreo. No, ew. Maybe KitKat. Do Snickers milkshakes exist? Ice cream does. Oh, Snickers ice cream…

Fuck cravings!

He places a hand on his bare belly. Ilya's hand rests limply over it too, warm and heavy.

“Can you stop?” he whispers to their surely beautiful baby girl who is giving him grief right now, making him want to eat sugary explosions and greasy food.

Shane has enough self-control to not relent this time. At least not right away.

He manages to resist about ten days before he's again at a drive-thru, this time inwardly debating if he should get a larger burger, or maybe two regular ones that in his own large hands seem bite-sized and like they won't cover even a dent of his hunger. He didn't have a filling lunch, he tells himself, as if Ilya isn't home expecting him with a lovingly made dinner. They're having a rich chicken soup and a generous mixed salad, with fruit juice made in the moment. Shane likes it, of course, he's looking forward to it, but the chicken made him think of KFC. He's just going to have a little appetizer of sorts; he tells himself that's all.

After thinking his options, mad with power and free-will, –and the knowledge that his card transactions are private to himself and no one else, Ilya will never know this, the previous KFC or this one, he won't– Shane gets two large chicken burgers (Colonel, he has to say). Two large fries, one large peanut butter milkshake.

He tries to take his time with each serving, and he manages, more or less. He takes a controlled, normal bite of his first burger and drinks some of his milkshake, savoring the contrast, how there's significantly more flavor in this burger than the one he had over a week ago.

The key word to it all is that he tried, but the burgers and fries and the rest of the milkshake disappeared too quickly for his taste.

No regrets, he thinks, sitting back and groaning, a little too full. Still, he's content. He sits a bit of a long while, his hands rubbing his full stomach, with his baby doing a few joyful kicks that he softly laughs at. He's spooked by his phone’s ringtone, though. Then he's spooked further, seeing that it's Ilya calling.

“Moya lyubov! What's taking so long?” Ilya immediately says as soon as Shane picks up. “Are you okay?”

Shane gives a quick peek at the watch on his wrist.

Fuck, it's past one hour than what he told Ilya he'd be home at, no wonder he’s worried. He really took his time eating.

Shane brushes his shirt off, as if Ilya will be able to catch the sesame seeds and fries salt through the phone and call Shane out on what he's doing.

“Yes, everything's fine,” he says, hopefully convincing. He's a terrible liar, and his husband has a special talent to pick up on it. “Just traffic.”

“Sure?”

Shane nods quickly. “Yes, I'm just getting out of it, I'll be home soon.” He winces and hopes that usually the rumble of the car isn't hearable through their calls in similar circumstances.

“Okay…” Ilya mutters, not sounding convinced. Thank God he doesn't press further. “Hurry up, Anya and I are waiting to eat all together! I love you, my Shane.”

Shane smiles despite the guilt pulling at his heart.

“I love you too.”

He hangs up before Ilya can ask anything else.

Shane does quick work of picking every single wrapping up, stuffing them into the large milkshake cup. All the jostling after having eaten himself full makes a hiccup rack his body. He quickly pats his chest, he doesn't have time for this.

He's still sated by the time he's home. He doesn't let Ilya kiss him on the mouth, fearful that he'll taste the fries and milkshake on Shane's lips, so he swiftly avoids Ilya and beelines for the bathroom, urgently claiming that the baby’s kicking his bladder. Not entirely a lie, after his milkshake, but still, not the full truth. He feels even more guilty at Ilya's endeared laugh.

After having rinsed with mouthwash, he gets out and sits at the table and lets Ilya serve him, gently running his hands on Anya's fur, who's excitedly resting her head on Shane's thigh.

He's worried he won't have space for dinner and Ilya will guess what he's been doing. He'll force space if he has to, promising himself this fling has gone long enough and doesn't have to happen again.

It happens again. It feels amazing, and like guilt and the fact that it fills him with guilt makes it taste even better, somehow. The weirdest thing is that he doesn't regret it, he just tells himself it'll be the last time, and he'll stop. It gives him a sense of deja vu.

He doesn't let that little getting home late incident happen again, telling Ilya with time what hour he plans to get there, or being done with work earlier to not mess the schedule at which he's home. Either way, he's omitting the truth. He tells himself it's the last time, this time for real, as he bites down on his third large chicken burger and slurps on his banana milkshake. He's tried them all by now, that's how many times he's told himself it'll be the last time. That's how many times Shane has been too weak and kept giving in to his cravings.

So, if he thinks of it more deeply, it’s all Ira's fault. Their baby has a name now. Irina. They have been affectionately calling her Ira, though. And it's all her fault, and none at all.

Shane sighs as he prepares to take another bite, already too full, but it's too good to stop, and he can't leave a single trace of evidence, and he's not going to throw a single crumb away.

He manages to eat the rest of it, and work his way through the rest of his fries. He has to take small breaks in-between each slurp of his milkshake to finish it. When he's done, he thanks his morning self for forgoing his tailored jeans for elastic waistbanded pants instead. Otherwise he would have to unbutton his pants and now that'll be suspicious. Though he can just say the baby’s giving him trouble, but that feels shitty to do, blaming her on everything when she's actually an angel. It's more vindicating to blame Ilya, since he impregnated Shane. But he's not going to tell Ilya your disgusting taste for fast food is genetic and your baby wants KFC every week, do something.

Yes, it's all Ilya's fault.

Shane does the obligatory aftercare to settle his overfull stomach, rubbing over where it's bloated. It's both weird and satisfying in a way, being full from food, and feeling full from his baby, because she's not small by any means. Ilya's fault. (And Shane's, but what's the fun in admitting that.)

He burps a couple of times, while he rubs his belly, until it just aches pleasantly.

Is there such a thing? Eating until it hurts good? Well there is, Shane does it. He's done it for several weeks now, hiding from his husband like he's having a fucking affair and not just stuffing his face with fast food.

Speaking of hiding, he starts collecting the evidence of his sin, he picks wrappings, empty wax bags, empty mayo packets and pushes it all into the empty milkshake cup. It's almost like his reward, seeing it all neatly put away after Shane ate the whole order, all evidence left is just his stuffed stomach.

The day it all comes crashing down is when Ilya's driving them back home after going to the Pike's. The kids, not so kids now, are excited for Uncle Shane's baby. The twins started joking about his size though. Not maliciously, more in the lines of she'll go directly to university after she's born, or she's going to come out walking! Shane laughed at those, to be honest. Jackie still admonished them, then offered Shane some more dessert, which he meekly pretended to decline before accepting. The baby’s spoiling him. Or he's spoiling her. Or his friends are spoiling him. Someone is doing the spoiling and Shane's in the equation, not sure in which order.

So he's full in that overdone way he loves to be every once in a while, his own hands rubbing his stomach, and Ilya's hand is on his thigh, squeezing absentmindedly while they're headed home, where Shane's going to lay down on the couch and pretend he'll get up soon to do something productive. Anya will cuddle up to him and rest her head on his belly. And Ilya will most likely pull out his phone to take a picture because when isn't he.

“You look beautiful like this, my love,” Ilya says, pulling to the side of the road, already pulling out his phone. See? He'll pause anything just for a photo. Or timeless memories, as he calls them. Shane loves it.

The sharp loud motor of a fast-passing car right beside them makes him jump and drop it.

“Son of a- fuck!” he exclaims, leaning down to pick his phone up from where it fell between his legs. Shane had also jumped from it but he's just laughing at Ilya's reaction while simultaneously grimacing at the pull in his full stomach. “Sorry about that, baby. Don't listen.”

“Too late, you'll teach her all the curse words by now.”

“Me? It'll be yo–” Ilya pauses, still leaned down. And Shane tilts his head curiously at his silence. “What's– is this a condom?”

Shane smiles in confusion, “What?”

They haven't had sex in the car in a long time (Shane's too big to be comfortable for it), and they get the car deep-cleaned every month. It's unlikely it's a condom.

Indeed, it's not a condom. Shane's smile drops instantly, when Ilya sits back up and raises an empty mayo packet in-between two fingers.

“What's this?” Ilya asks.

There's not anger or disgust or whatever Shane's been expecting if this moment came to. But he's not smiling either. It's more just casual, genuine confusion.

Shane feels cold and hot at the same time nevertheless, and he can't get words out quick enough. “It's- that's- I just...” As if he isn't ashamed enough, his eyes prickle with hot tears.

He quickly covers his face, knowing he won't be able to hold them in. He's embarrassed beyond measure, and his heart beats fast at getting caught in his indulgent secret.

“Shane–”

“I'm sorry, Ilya, I–”

“No, no,” Ilya shushes, all soft and gentle and Shane wants to cry harder for hiding it. Ilya's hand firmly holds the back of his neck, comforting in its pressure. “Breath, Shane, nothing bad is happening, I'm not angry. Okay?”

Shane nods, still covering his face. It takes him a few calming breaths and Ilya's hand is still firmly pressed against the back of his neck to finally look up. He's sure his face is red and he probably looks every bit guilty he feels.

“There you are,” Ilya says, smiling. He wipes a few stray tears from Shane's warm cheeks, then he leans to place a chaste kiss on his pouting lips. “Are you going to tell me now why we have empty McDonald's packets in our sensible, reliable car?”

Shane bites his lower lip, brushing his eyelash before looking to the side.

“It's not McDonald's, it's KFC,” he mutters.

“What?” Ilya leans forward, ear first.

“It's KFC!” he claims directly to Ilya's ear, making him lean back.

“KFC?” Shane nods.”Okay… can you tell me why we have empty KFC packets in our car?”

Shane nods, shamefully blushing again. “I was craving it.”

Ilya blinks, once, twice, then he's raising his eyebrows, “Sweetheart, that's why you're crying? Eating KFC once in a while isn't bad!”

Shane tries not to cover his face again, but he does close his eyes. “Not just once. Many times.”

“...how many?”

“Many, many.”

Ilya's silence unnerves Shane, and he looks at his husband, and his full sated stomach almost drops to his ass from how Ilya's massaging his brow, looking deeply disappointed.

Fuck, it's way worse than if he was mad. Shane may cry again. Scratch that, he's tearing up already.

Ilya throws him a look, “So you–” He does a double take, “Sweetheart, no!”

“Fuck, I'm sorry!” Shane whimpers, covering his face again.

“No, no, no, Shane,” Ilya begs, gently pulling at Shane's wrists. “I was going to say– ‘so you've been having KFC without me?’”

Shane looks up, “What?”

Ilya wipes his tears again, “You’re telling me you've eaten fried chicken for weeks or months all on your own when I could've been eating it with you?”

“Actually, I like the burgers better. And the milkshakes…”

“And the fries?”

Shane closes his eyes, suddenly tempted. “I love the fries.”

A sweet kiss presses against his mouth. “You've just made me the happiest man on earth.”

That makes Shane open his eyes, scowl at the ready. “Now? Not when I proposed to you or told you I was pregnant?”

“All three can be true,” Ilya grins, and Shane can't help his smile, and the kiss he gives his ridiculous husband. After some justified and moderate making out, they sit back down in their own places. Shane licks up the spit left on his lips. “Now your baby's craving fries.”

Ilya turns to him, his smile bright and almost elated. “Our baby wants fries? And not a burger and milkshake too?”

For the first time ever, Shane takes his KFC home to eat. He knows Ilya's his husband and loves him and whatever, happily ever after and all that, but he has no business looking so enamored watching Shane scarf down three Colonel burgers.

“Stop looking at me,” Shane says, muffled by his mouthful as he sips from his milkshake, closing his eyes. Fuck, it's so good. And it's much more comfortable eating at home than in a cramped car, with his pregnant belly pressing against the steering wheel at times. “Eat your damn food, you look crazy.”

“I am crazy,” Ilya says, chomping on his own burger, identical to Shane's. His next words are said around a mouthful too. “Crazy with love. This is what being husbands is about.”

“Eating together?” Shane asks, leaning forward to reach some fries. Ilya hands the bag to him, so Shane doesn't have to move further on the couch. “Thanks.” He makes use of his belly table for them, besides his milkshake.

“No, pigging out together.”

Shane almost drops his burger. “What did you say?”

“Pig out, Shane. From the verb pig, which means, eating whatever the fuck we want, whatever quantity we like and not worry about calories.”

Shane feels too hot in the face to try to come up with a proper answer to that or acknowledge whatever the fuck Ilya's saying does to him, so he just stares at his half-eaten burger, feeling shy.

“Pig itself isn't a verb…”

“Yes it is,” Ilya says, finishing his burger. “Used in pig out, which is what we are doing. Let's be pigs together, Shane.”

Shane covers his face with a hand, the other still holding his burger. “Oh my God, shut up!”

“I’ll be like Miss Piggy. You can be like… some other pig guy.”

“I miss the car.”

“No, you don't,” Ilya refutes, grabbing Shane's face and planting a loud kiss on his full cheek.

🫄<---shane at the drive thru

anyway friends/team take over ilya's duty and how could shane say no when more food gets offered to him, he's hungry and his husband is busy playing tag. when ilya's back with the kids to eat, shane is barely finishing another portion, already stuffed full after food coming left and right and him being a little too polite to deny them. after they've all eaten, they have to go back home and ilya gets the girls in the car, and goes back to grab shane's hands like it's usual when he's heavily pregnant and wants to get up from his seat; there's a couple of failed attempts to pull him up and shane can barely breathe and ilya says to them, look what you did to my poor husband! he can barely move! but it's all said playfully

no it's okay that was literally my first thought but then i thought maybe it'll be too much from me sorry</3 i'll write what my heart tells me to from now on

Ilya gets roused from sleep by a grunt and a curse, and the sudden, sharp shift of the mattress followed by a loud huff. He briefly squints in the dark and catches the moonlight-rimmed form of his husband.

Shane's on his back, panting and holding the top of his belly. He's flushed and clearly exhausted. Ilya immediately pushes himself up with his arms.

“Shane?”

Shane looks up at him, eyes bright and mouth parted. Even in his urgency Ilya has a brief second to think how gorgeous he looks.

“I woke you up? Sorry.” Shane whispers, chest raising and lowering with the effort to catch his breath.

Ilya dismisses the apology with a shake of his head.

“No, no,” he mutters, placing a hand on Shane's distended belly, raising high from where he's on his back. He shouldn't be, Ilya thinks, that mustn't help with his shortness of breath. Ilya gently pulls Shane's body to roll him to the side, facing him, and Shane lets him. The mattress shifts under his heavy body, and said body jiggles slightly. “What are you doing, my love?”

“I just,” he starts, placing a plump arm on his side, framing the soft fat of his waist. “I wanted a snack, but I didn't want to wake you up again.”

Ilya smiles, all soft and mushy, before placing a kiss on Shane's chubby cheek.

“You tried to roll yourself out of bed, is that it? But my husband is too fat and big with our baby to do it without help…” Ilya's hand does a few soft pats on Shane's round stomach. Effectively, big from their baby but also plain up fat.

Shane's cheeks’ lost a bit of their flush but it comes back full force.

“Shut up," he huffs. "...but yeah."

“I'll fetch you something,” Ilya says finally. He lays back down in front of Shane, his fingers going to gently trying to fix Shane's choppy bangs, sticking up. “What are you craving?”

But Shane looks down briefly, before lifting his gaze to the lower half of Ilya's face, obviously sulking at his failed attempts to quietly get out of bed. He half shrugs.

“I was going to decide on my way there. I'm just hungry.”

Ilya hums for a few seconds, with his hand now absentmindedly resting on Shane's neck, cupping. His fingers move slightly just to start squeezing Shane's cheek.

He gets a little lost in it in his sleepiness, enough that Shane rolls his eyes.

"Ilya."

He sobers up. “Here's what we'll do. I'll help you roll yourself out of bed, we'll go to the kitchen, you'll see what you want to eat, and then eat and eat… and I'll roll you back here.”

That makes Shane scoff in surprise, and he smiles as he pushes Ilya's shoulder. Ilya dramatically pretends the force sent him to his back, making Shane laugh.

"Shane, I'm just trying to help! Don't manhandle me with your very strong sexy chunky arms..."

“Serves you right; you don't have to fucking roll me.”

“No, I will so my husband can eat to his joy and not worry about having to move after. Make sure you eat enough to not be hungry until breakfast, okey?”

Shane's smile doesn't dimmer, and his bright eyes looking at Ilya tell him he's actually charmed.

A side by side comparation of pictures and Ilya looks more or less the same while Shane is twice as big as he used to be😋

I'd love to draw this🫡 thank you for your beautiful mind!!

Also thank you for this blog I’m already so excited for the content soon 👀👀

And a question do you prefer a round belly like a beer belly or a squishy oh so squishy belly (on shane preferably but I’m fine with a normal answer) 👹👹👹

Yes!!! I loved seeing both their tummies🤤 (the what do they call it tilt in their posture?)

I like any kind of bellies, and depends on the character, for Shane I think I prefer a rounder tummy because of pregnancy-looking reasons and with his lifestyle I think it makes sense:))! Of course it still has give and can be squished and grabbed and I just remembered I made a drawing of Ilya grabbing Shane's belly from behind🧎!!! I'll look for it to post here in this blog hehe

(Ilya says, look at the results of my hard work, while Shane says, your hard work? And Shane's fat as he should🧎)

For other characters I imagine them sometimes with very squishy bellies that drop or rest against their waist or thighs very nice and🤤

Ilya doesn't point them out out loud, aside from pressing a kiss against each of them. Shane doesn't bat an eye, aside from giving Ilya a soft smile and going back to his book. The back of his hand turns into his wrist, then his forearm, the bulging bicep against a tight shirt, his shoulder, his neck. Next thing, Shane's on his side, book forgotten and glasses askew as Ilya keeps pressing soft kisses going south, with Shane's pudgier fingers gently pulling on his curls.