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4x06 - Some bitchy Steve Harrington Icons Edit by me - if you use this edit please like and reblog and mention me <3

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Sometimes Steve says ‘I had a shower, are you proud of me?’

And Eddie will kiss him on the head, a loud, smacking, ‘mwah!’ Of a thing. And will wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, and squeeze.

And he’ll say ‘I am. I’m so so so so so proud of you baby (Stevie, sweetheart, love.)’

And Steve knows it’s silly, knows he can shower, should be able to shower, just fine. But sometimes, it’s hard. It’s really really really hard. But sometimes he still does it.

And he’s a little proud, maybe, on those bad days, when it’s something he wants to do but it's harder than it should be.

It’s always easier, definitely, hearing it come from Eddie.

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Dustin has keys to everyone's house. Almost no one gave him one.

Robin and Steve rent a little place together and everyone's coming over for a party dinner. They do it every once in a while, everyone squeezing in together. It's not exactly comfortable but its important.

Except neither Steve nor Robin have their keys. Steve's is at the shop with his car and Robins are clearly visible through the curtains hanging on their designated hook on the wall.

Dustin fidgets for a moment before sighing dramatically and unlocking the door with his key. A key he has not been given, Steve was planning to give him one just in case, but he hasn't yet.

"ok, don't freak out. I just thought it would be a good idea if somebody had everyone's keys." He says like it's a reasonable thing.

The group erupts into chaos at the implication of Dustin's words. Shouting over each other and trying to figure out exactly who's keys he has.

"EVERYONE'S, I HAVE EVERYONE'S, OK?" He finally shouts, storming into Steve and Robins apartment.

The argument pops up here and there through dinner. Dustin refuses to explain how he got everyone's keys without anyone noticing, refuses to give any back. "No I paid for the copies!"

Eddie makes a joke close to Steve's ear about using Rick's place for safety. Dustin snorts and is like "You think I don't have his key too?"

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frat boy Steve has a funnel because some of his housemates like chugging beer that way.

he notices his new plug Eddie goes a little stupid the first time he gets it out...

Okay, keeping in mind that I have no knowledge of frats beyond what I’ve seen on TV and movies… (Lol, and I had to ask what plug meant, but shhhhh no I didn’t.)

Being allowed to enter frat president Steve’s room for the first time felt like winning the lottery, and that’s never entirely worn off. Even now that he’s been there often enough that he can close his eyes and picture the room, Eddie’s heart rate always picks up a little bit whenever he enters. 

He notices immediately when he spots the new thing, and stupidly blurts out, “What’s that?”

“Huh?” Steve cranes his neck to see what Eddie’s looking at. “Oh, that. Some of the guys wanted a funnel for chugging beer, so I got one. Kind of keeping it on the back burner until someone brings it up again, though… I really don’t trust Billy or Tommy not to land their asses in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. Bad look for the whole frat.”

“Right,” Eddie says with a forced laugh, “you’ve gotta prove your worthiness to earn The Funnel.”

After selling Steve all the weed and party favors he wants at the usual pretty boy discount (not that Steve knows about that), Eddie goes home and contemplates The Funnel. He packs a bowl, sucking huge lungfuls of smoke from his bong like it’s something else, and… okay, yeah, he wants to earn it. Doesn’t have to be beer—actually, he would kind of prefer if it’s not, would want to stay fully present and aware the whole time while Steve fills him up. 

So Eddie gets high off his ass (he doesn’t need to be fully present now, because Steve isn’t here) and drinks all the Mt Dew in his fridge, imagining with every gulp that it’s Steve pouring the fizzy liquid down his throat. A hand on his belly to feel himself expand. He’s not ripped or anything but he’s on the skinner side, so when the bloat starts to hit it’s noticeable; he whimpers a little when he has to unbutton his jeans to give himself more room. Drinks as much as he can but just knows that Steve would be able to coax more into him. Gets uncomfortable in a way that scratches an itch he usually doesn’t even notice, squirming and burping and whining for the perfect unattainable guy who’d never go for someone like him and is probably straight anyway. 

He feels a little weird after he comes and has cleaned himself up, and not because all that pop is still sloshing around in his belly whenever he moves. But… he can still be normal around Steve, right? Whatever, he’ll make it work. His livelihood kind of depends on being able to compartmentalize. 

~

Steve hasn’t been buying from Eddie all that long—a couple months, since the frat’s previous connection, Reefer Rick, got arrested—but he likes him. Likes his mischievous grins and the funny voices he often slips into for emphasis when they’re talking about things besides business. They have nothing in common, from family structure and socioeconomic class to their fundamentally clashing jock vs nerd interests, so Steve hasn’t been able to figure out an excuse to interact with him outside of transactions before a party… Maybe he’s nudged the number of parties the frat hosts up a bit for that reason. It’s not a big deal. 

Recently Eddie has been… strange. And that’s saying something for a guy whose nickname is The Freak. There’s something new in his eyes when he looks at Steve, though Steve can’t figure out what it is. He stands closer, grins wider, and that theatrical streak toes more and more over then line into is he flirting with me territory. 

Which, you know, Steve wouldn’t mind. He’s in college now, old enough and confident enough in his social circles that he’d feel okay with coming out as bisexual to his friends. (Not his parents, no way, not while they’re paying his tuition and still think he’s studying business rather than education. All that is precarious enough as it is, no need to add more fuel to the eventual, inevitable fire. But who tells their parents everything, really?) It’s just, Steve doesn’t want to make the first move, anxious that his first actual pursuit of a guy might falter and eat shit right out of the gate. 

The other thing is, Eddie is really weird about his beer funnel. Which is still unused, sitting up on a shelf over his desk. Steve always notices Eddie looking at it first thing when they go into his room. Sometimes he keeps glancing at it periodically until the deal is over and he leaves, but more often he sits off-center on Steve’s desk (usually clean, but Eddie sits regardless of clutter, the charming weirdo) directly under the thing. He squirms a lot when he does that, even for Eddie. Pulls his curly hair over his mouth to hide smiles more. Bites and licks his lips more often, which is just killing Steve a little bit. 

What is it about the funnel? He never got the impression that Eddie is a partier, considering how he never comes to even the open parties, even when Steve invites him. 

And then he starts to notice it. 

The way Eddie is filling out more. It’s subtle, but as the weeks go by Steve can see the way his shirt and pants are fitting differently. 

It looks good. 

~

Eddie has been going through a lot of Mt Dew since that first time. It just feels good, that bubbly stretch inside him—though sometimes he just does it with water, instead. It’s not quite as satisfying without the sugar high and the caffeine, but it's cheaper. 

What he hasn’t noticed is the way his stomach is starting to stay stretched. How he starts trending towards seeking that same kind of fullness when he eats, though the feeling is different… Firmer, heavier, like an anchor. Good in a different way.

It’s harder to picture Steve feeding him, though, so overeating is more of a slowly forming background habit. His brain feels permanently stuck on the whole funnel thing, like it won’t rest until he experiences it in action in Steve’s hands for real. He sees it when he goes to sleep at night. Sees it any time he blinks, really, leaving him feeling constantly both horny and empty. 

His ‘real’ job is bartending at a place on campus, which ranges from lattes and smoothies during the day to taps and cocktails at night, and he keeps finding himself gulping water or pop or glorified fruity milkshakes whenever he has a minute to do so. Seeing a guy with hair like Steve prompts him to take his fifteen out back, chain smoking cigarettes and pounding down Mt Dew again like that’s his job. His boss only cares that he’s not getting into the booze on the clock, which he’s not, so… no problem there. But Eddie feels constantly distracted, his carefully constructed compartments that keep his jobs and his personal life all separate starting to break down the further he sinks into daydreaming. 

So when Steve invites him to one of the frat parties, like he always does… Eddie actually goes. It’s a night he has off, and what else was he supposed to do? Sit around at home, anxiously snacking and filling himself up like a fleshy water balloon, when he could be a nervous wreck in public instead?! Why not!!

Steve finds him in the crowd surprisingly quickly and yells something over the shitty house music that suggests he’s happy to see him. Great! Then the guy disappears just as fast, and Eddie wants to wilt. Wants to slink right back out and not even go home, just dig himself a hole somewhere and live there instead. God, he’s an idiot—

But Steve is back, grinning his perfect grin and holding The Funnel, and Eddie is a weak man. He can only hope his black jeans are adequately disguising his raging hard-on as he accepts Steve’s mimed offer and follows him to the nearest plentiful source of beer. 

~

Steve is second guessing himself. But it’s not a move to bring out the beer funnel when Eddie’s clearly curious about it, right? That’s not flirting. 

Right?

Either way, though, it’s already happening. The end of the hose is between Eddie’s lips, which Steve had not anticipated somehow, is not thinking about… will likely think about later, but that’s Future Steve’s problem.

So they settle by one of the tapped kegs and Steve pours. Watches as Eddie’s eyes stay on him, but go a little glazed the more he gulps. Watches for any need to pause and give him some air, but never sees any sign of Eddie in distress. When he feels like it’s been enough he stops, and Eddie keeps staring expectantly at him for a moment before releasing the tube with a wet pop. 

“That all you’ve got, Harrington?” Eddie asks with a lazy grin and a confidence that isn’t cocky at all, just easy surety of being able to take more.

“Is that a challenge, Munson?” Steve shoots back, raising an eyebrow. He kind hopes it is; he likes a challenge. Likes Eddie too, but knows himself well enough to know that he’d take it even if he didn’t. He didn’t ascend to the presidency of this fraternity on sheer good looks and family money, no matter what the rumors might say. 

Eddie smirks, and now he looks cocky. (Steve wants to lick the expression right off his face and learn how it tastes.) “Tell you what, stand a little closer so I can tap out if I need to and we’ll find out. One for good, keep going; two for slow down; three for stop.” He spreads his legs a little and pats his belly where it rounds out a little over his waistband. “I’ll show you just how much I can take.”

Mindful of what could happen if Eddie does this on too empty a stomach, Steve makes him eat a big plate of nachos from the extensive snack table in the main room. Feels a flicker of heat in his core when Eddie takes the plate with a grin and a jaunty “Thanks, Steve,” an ember fanned into brightness at the sight of every bite of it passing methodically through those tempting lips. Especially any time he licks and sucks his own fingers clean, holy shit.

Then Steve stands close, and pours, and Eddie taps once. And Steve pours, and Eddie keeps going. Tap. And Steve pours, and Eddie keeps going. Tap. And Steve pours…

They’re starting to develop an audience. Cheers and whoops whenever Eddie gestures for more, obviously hamming it up for the crowd because if there’s anyone Steve’s ever met that lives for attention, it’s this guy. But his eyes remain mostly on Steve, especially when either of them move—like Eddie is watching to see if he’s watching when he shifts his legs to give his gradually expanding belly more room. 

Of course Steve is watching. Like, he has to glance away sometimes to make sure he’s not missing the top of the funnel while he pours the beer in, but for the most part his eyes are glued to that generous swell, the way Eddie’s band tee is starting to tighten at his middle and ride up a little, the little spill of his love handles over either side of his jeans. He has no idea if it’s on purpose or if Eddie has just kind of skipped over noticing that his clothes are getting a little small, because either way he kind of wants to kneel down and… and bite him, or something. But like, in a nice way. Leave a few hickeys, maybe. Stake a claim, if Eddie is cool with that. 

None of which he can do right now, because he has to hold the funnel up. 

He sees Eddie squirming in his seat a little and pauses, thinking it might be time to call it, but Eddie slaps Steve’s thigh immediately, once. His pupils are blown wide, gaze dark and a little unfocused, but the look very clearly says don’t you dare stop.

And, well. Steve is getting hard in his chinos, and he can’t stop that either. Because Eddie is really enjoying this, and it’s causing him to think back over all the times the guy has been in his room and sat right under the shelf where the funnel was. Subliminal messaging, maybe? Trying to get Steve to do this for him. For weeks. God, if Eddie had just said something, Steve would’ve done this the first goddamn day. 

~

When Eddie finally does tap out, he’s almost too bloated to take a bow as the onlookers cheer. Almost. He’s a consummate showman, what can he say? But just a little one, because the pressure when he bends is almost too much, and he’d kind of forgotten about the downside of doing this with beer. The room is a little unsteady around him, and he barely realizes it’s because he’s swaying a bit, despite the nachos, until Steve puts a steadying hand on his arm. 

He sees the funnel in someone else’s hands, the next volunteer already taking the chair he’d just vacated, and opens his mouth to protest, but Steve pulls him away with a quick “I’ll get a new one for you, for just you” murmured in his ear. Relaxing, Eddie lets himself be led. 

So Steve noticed, then. And wants to do it again, it sounds like? That’s good. That’s sooo good, Eddie thinks happily, even as he has to get his hands under his sloshing belly to hold it as they walk. God, his jeans are really digging into him—overdid it, but it feels fucking amazing. 

Steve takes him to his room and guides him to sit on the bed. The door is shut, Eddie thinks? Maybe even locked, if frat house rooms even have locks. He doesn’t really care, not when every iota of his being is focused on getting his jeans unbuttoned, belly pushing the zipper down in its rush to spread out. 

“Shit,” Steve whispers, standing over him and taking all of him in. “You didn’t have go so hard, you know…”

“Wanted to,” Eddie grunts, getting his hands in between denim and heated skin to lift his belly the rest of the way out, running his fingers over the red impression of seams and waistband on his skin with a shiver. When he’s so full like this, every sensation on his stretched gut is magnified by a hundred. He barely restrains himself from reaching underneath and palming his dick, flush with what the feeling is doing for him, but he wants to. God, even with—especially with—Steve watching. It already feels like he’s gone wild, gone totally crazy, so why not?

Fuck it. He gropes himself in front of frat president Steve fucking Harrington, letting out a moan at the sensation. 

“Shit,” Steve says again, breathes it really, and then suddenly he’s on his knees before Eddie and reaching to settle his big hands on the sides of Eddie’s swollen, churning belly. Pressing just enough that Eddie lets out a belch that trails off into another moan, leans into it and belches again. Steve’s touch doesn’t falter; if anything, the expression on his face gets even more intense. “You like this.”

It’s not a question. 

“Yes,” Eddie answers anyway, panting, leaning back on his hands and letting Steve take over. “Wanted it to be you, ever since—”

“Since I got that funnel?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, half in response to the way Steve is moving his palms in slow circles over taut skin, tipsy and warm and spreading his legs wider, meeting Steve’s molten hazel gaze with his own heated stare. “Wanted to earn it. How’d I do?”

Steve hesitates. “Well, uh…” He licks his lips. “How drunk are you right now?”

“Not so drunk that you should feel like you’re taking advantage.” Eddie puts in the effort to sit up straight again, aware of the way his t-shirt has rucked up to leave his bulging navel on full display and preening a little when he realizes Steve is staring. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while, Steve. Hope that doesn’t weird you out or anything, I swear I don’t usually get this way about anyone I deal to… So I’ve been trying to keep a lid on it but, well.” He lays a hand on the top of his belly, scratching lightly where it juts out like a shelf under his soft pecs. “Guess I just can’t help myself.”

That’s all Steve needs, apparently, to dip forward and put the first love bite of many on Eddie’s belly, teeth nipping at the layer of soft fat gathering there with a groan. 

~

The next morning, Steve rolls out of bed at the crack of noon and runs out to get a new funnel and pick up a large order from the nearest all-day breakfast place, so Eddie can have something great to wake up to. He’s going to spoil the hell out of this guy, and who knows. Maybe by the end of the day he’ll get Eddie to agree to be his boyfriend. 

(Eddie, bolstered by a full tummy and endorphin high from all the eating and sex, actually asks first. Steve does a little fist pump anyway because hell yeah, he got his man! And then helps Eddie finish his tall stack of pancakes.)

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): hotluncheddie who sent this ask 😜, @tangerinesteve @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax

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"I can just take him out"

Stranger Things - Season 3 Chapter 4: "The Sauna Test"

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Steddie + Textposts (pt ??)

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♠️♥️ once again! It's Halloween time and for the past month Steve has been chauffeuring the kids around for whatever they wanted (all with attitude of course) and he can't help the annoyance he feels dealing with them, especially Mike. Sometimes he and Eddie get together and talk about what little shits they are, and Halloween night the two get the idea to get a little revenge. All in good fun of course. They all gather at Steve's house and the two make the plan to get the kids (teens now wow) to leave their candy with him while Eddie distracts them and to basically fool them by making them think he ate it all. Of course he has backup candy bags (the good stuff; full size candy bars), but now he has to figure out where to dump their actual candy. He can't hide it because that's too obvious and he technically has to pretend to have eaten it all so Steve concludes to actually just eat it (a horrible idea really, but this was a last minute prank and the joint he smoked an hour ago doesn't help either).

With Eddie and the kids gone he gets started: flicks on a scary movie and settles into the couch, all six candy bags nestled by his side. Chocolates and gummies, licorice and skittles, little bags of treats slowly popped into his mouth. One after the other, Steve methodically unwrapping, chewing, and swallowing. After awhile the taste gets a little old so he cracks open a coke. He's halfway through the third bag when his stomach cramps, gurgling loudly from all the sugar and fizz. He shimmies a bit before unbuttoning his pants and continuing with the plan, telling himself it's all for the sake of revenge.

And again, he keeps going, lost in his own gluttony as he tries to pick up the pace before they get back. He's finally down to the last bag when he hears the van pull into the drive way and he bolts up, bloated gut groaning and sloshing. With clumsy hands he grabs the bags and bolts up to his room, locking the door, hiding the evidence and determined to finish the sixth bag. He can hear them in the living room and he's barely chewing as he shoves the candy down his throat, chugging coke to wash it all down.

With one last gulp, he's done it! But with it gone, and his gut too loud to ignore, he catches sight of himself in the mirror and he's positively potbellied. Unbuttoned jeans tight where his gut lays, his polo shirt having ridden up from where it once covered his deep set belly button, lips smeared with chocolate. He couldn't suck in if he tried 🙊 happy halloween!

Oh my god this is so funny, and my first thought is MIKE what did you DO? But it would have to be all of them, for him to target all their candy bags. (Not Erica’s, though. She’d legit slash his tires, and Eddie’s too for aiding and abetting.) But nothing genuinely hurtful, six parts because I like fluff and half a dozen because that would make this a pretty lame revenge. 

Oh! Oh I know… Added some cool (read: kinda nerdy) homemade Halloween costumes, because Eddie can sew and Steve’s is pretty easy, so it’s a little different from what you laid out. 5608 words! Thank you for the prompt, pal, this was a fun one. 

🔞

Always one thing after another with these goddamn kids, Steve swears. Sure, it’s not uncovering deadly monsters and government plots anymore… but they’re teenagers now, so it’s still always something. 

Today it’s wax fruit, a fake Oreo, and a plastic pickle snuck into his sandwich (that he had made, how the fuck…?) that looks like Mike must’ve stolen from one of Holly’s old play sets. 

And now, to top it all off, Dustin pretended to hurl and got him with fake vomit. 

It’s a rough April Fool’s day. 

But like, at least they aren’t actively making fun of him for the weight he’s gained since the Upside Down ordeals had ended for good. Everyone laughs just as hard when Mike gets Will with a wax apple, and that kid is still a string bean. 

“Mike needs to branch out from pranking people he has a crush on,” Eddie mutters darkly later that night, when it’s just the big kids having some good old-fashioned off duty babysitters time around the pool. 

Steve, confused, is about to ask what he means from behind his (fake pickle free) sandwich, but Robin coughs on a mouthful of beer so instead he has to pound on her back until some of it comes out her nose. 

“Jesus Steve, did you have to thump so hard?!”

“I thought you were choking!!” 

Robin sticks out her tongue and pushes him into the pool, and in his flailing attempts to avoid his fate Steve manages to snag Eddie and drag him in with him. 

Then Nancy sputters “Steve, again?” while laughing so hard that she can barely breathe. It reminds Steve of how he’d dragged her into the pool on purpose the first night they’d—

Steve’s cheeks flame immediately. He’s only actually told Robin how he feels (thinks he feels? is starting to feel?) about Eddie, but Nancy is smart and she knows him, he’s not shocked that she’s noticed. So he has to splash both her and Robin, obviously, before they give away anything. 

Unfortunately, Eddie takes the opportunity to latch onto him like a barnacle and pull him over, so Steve misses and douses Argyle instead, and—

—Steve still remembers, come October. He wants to get them back, but to do that successfully he’s going to need backup. Tough, with both Robin and Nancy off at college and Jon and Argyle back in California, but not impossible.

He swallows down his nerves and asks Eddie. No big deal, they hang out together practically every day these days. Practically best friends. Except… Steve hasn’t exactly told him the reason he doesn’t take girls out on dates anymore. 

“A revenge prank, you say,” Eddie murmurs, hands in front of his mouth and fingertips drumming together in intrigue. He’s sprawled in one of Steve’s kitchen chairs with one leg over a wooden arm like no one ever taught him how to sit like a human. It should be ungodly uncomfortable, but the dude looks perfectly at ease. Weirdo, Steve thinks affectionately. “I like it. Do you have anything in mind, or are we brainstorming?”

“Brainstorming,” Steve confirms, and they relocate to the living room and get to smoking about it over bowls of the spaghetti bolognese he just finished making. 

Eddie’s condition for helping is that they plan matching Halloween costumes, and since they both know the boys are pulling their old props out of closets and attics to suit up as the Ghostbusters again, it’s not difficult to decide on a theme. 

“No no no, we can’t be the Gatekeeper and the Keymaster,” Steve protests with a laugh, waving his hand through the smoke in the air. Since he’s currently holding the joint, the motion paints all new swirling shapes before them. 

“Why not?” Eddie squawks, and steals the joint back before it can ash anywhere unfortunate. 

“Because you have the hair to play Sigourney Weaver, but I could never pass for Rick Moranis. It totally wouldn’t work, man.”

“Dude, work with me here! What else are we going to be, Gozer and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man?”

“I…” Steve pauses. He’s seen Ghostbusters, and remembers the Gozer the Gozarian costume from the end of the movie. Can he turn down an opportunity to see Eddie in a nude body stocking and heels? “… Yeah, okay.”

Apparently not. Can he survive it? Remains to be seen, but he’ll find out eventually. 

“Wait, really?” A disbelieving grin spreads across Eddie’s face, making both dimples pop. “You’d put on the little hat, sailor’s collar, and neckerchief for me, Stevie?”

And it’s not that Steve didn’t register the other half of the deal, but he doesn’t really mind. High as he is at the moment, his hand drifts to the belly he’s put on since high school—the munchies keep hitting him in waves and he’s already finished most of the would-be leftovers from the pot in the kitchen, so he’s a little bloated right now. He giggles and gives himself a pat. “I mean, why not? I’m in shape for it, aren’t I?”

The pat knocks loose a burp that sneaks up and out of his mouth as soon as he’s finished talking, but Eddie laughs so brightly that Steve forgets to be embarrassed. 

“I’ve got it,” Eddie gasps once he’s pulled himself together again. “Steve. Steve, you could be the one hundred foot marshmallow man summoned to destroy… their Halloween candy.”

“Destroy it?”

“Yes! It’ll be your revenge for all that fake food! I can be a distraction, while you confiscate all their hard-earned, tooth-rotting treats. They come back—oh no, they’ll weep!”

“Weep?” Steve snorts. Eddie rolls his eyes. 

“They’ll weep, Who stole our candy? Who could have done such a thing? With much gnashing of teeth. And you make your appearance, maybe smear some chocolate sauce around your mouth to really sell it, and say, That’s what you get for all that wax fruit.”

“I guess I could do that,” Steve says slowly. When Eddie offers him the joint again he accepts, taking a hit absently as he mulls it over. “Kinda mean though, stealing their candy. Waking all over the place to get that stuff is a lot of work.”

Eddie shrugs. “Get ‘em candy from the store. The full-size bars and shit. Then once they’ve learned their lesson, they can have that; everything’ll be fine and you get your own trick-and-treat stash. Oh—” he flails with excitement at another idea, and Steve can’t help the way it stirs butterflies in his already full stomach to see all that enthusiasm on his behalf—“but before you do, if Dustin gives you shit, you gotta say something like, What, are you so sad you could puke, Dusty-buns? That’ll show him.”

It makes Steve laugh, a warm feeling growing in his chest to know that they’re good enough friends for Eddie to come up with zany schemes on his behalf. He already knows he’ll go through with it, if Eddie is serious. 

Several weeks later it’s Halloween, and the plan is set. Everyone (minus Erica, who’s trick-or-treating with friends her own age instead) is coming over after making their rounds through the neighborhoods, and Eddie will take them all to the haunted corn maze at one of the local farms. Steve, meanwhile, will hide their candy and pretend to have eaten it by the time they return. 

It’s a great plan. Eddie comes over around sundown to do some pre-celebrating in the form of hotboxing Steve’s bedroom before all the kids in Hawkins start ringing the doorbell at any house with a front light on. 

And Steve feels like he’s been hit between the eyes with a brick when he opens the door to Eddie’s knocking, because wow. 

That is Eddie. With his hair up. Wearing a nude bodysuit covered in plastic baubles and white feathers. When he blinks, his eyelids are dark red with eyeshadow, just like Gozer’s eyes in the damn movie. And all Steve did was fish out a few elements of his old Scoops uniform—not the one he’d been interrogated by Russians in, he and Robin had burned both of those outfits after Starcourt—and put them on over a white sweater and white pants. 

Eddie leaps across the threshold, strutting around in… oh god, he is wearing heels. Steve has to look up slightly to meet his gaze, and it makes him want to lean in even more than he usually always lowkey does. 

“Gozer the Gozerian,” Eddie howls, baring his teeth in a feral grin as he continues to announce, “Gozer the Destructor, Volguus Zildrohar, the Traveller has come!” He jabs a finger towards Steve demandingly. “Choose, and perish!”

Somehow, Steve manages to keep his composure—maybe from all the practice he’s had. He puts his hands on his hips and raises his eyebrows. “I thought I’m the one destroying stuff tonight. Isn’t that the Marshmallow Man’s whole job?”

“Aw, Stevie,” Eddie starts, looking him up and down and… getting distracted for some reason. 

Steve glances down at himself, worried that maybe he’s gotten something about his sweater, but no. And he can’t see anything on his pants either, unless it’s just under where his belly pooches out over the top of his pants and makes it hard to see—he’s made his peace with that, but it makes him nervous now. “So, uh, are we gonna smoke or what, man? Do you even have pockets in that, um… outfit?”

Whatever it was that had snagged Eddie’s attention, he shakes himself out of it to shoot Steve an exaggeratedly put-upon pout. “Sir Stay Puft, you dare question a god? Of course I have pockets.” He reaches towards where the over-layer of fluffy decoration is thickest winding up his torso—the left side, where Steve knows his scars are also the most prominent, even after a year and a half. Turns out there’s a cleverly hidden zipper pouch beneath it, and Eddie produces two roll-ups and a zippo with a cheeky grin. 

So they’re definitely both decently stoned by the time the kids come by. The four original Party members are in their Ghostbuster suits, as expected: Will as Winston, Dustin as Egon, Lucas as Ray, and Mike as Venkman. El has her short but growing out hair curled and a guitar case slung across her back (presumably because no one had seen fit to let the kids borrow a cello, which was for the best). Max, in her wheelchair, is green from head to waist and styled to look like Slimer on top of the hotel maid cart from the movie. 

“Oh shit,” she crows when she registers Steve and Eddie’s costumes. “Okay, you nerds are definitely outnumbered in terms of ghost power now. Looks like I chose the right side.” 

The three of them exchange high fives, before Steve insists on getting pictures. “You know your mom will love it,” he says pointedly to Dustin. “And since she cooks me dinner more often than any of you—”

“I cook for you sometimes,” Eddie pipes up. Which is true. But mentioning Mrs. Henderson’s cooking has already reminded Steve’s high brain that he hasn’t eaten much since Eddie arrived, not wanting to get spills or crumbs on his glaringly white outfit, so Steve just waves him off, distracted. He feels his stomach give a quiet little grumble. 

“Yeah yeah, I know you do. I’m talking to the twerps.”

“We’re not—”

“Anyway,” Steve says loudly over Mike, clapping both hands together, “come on people, pictures! Everybody! Let’s go!”

They manage to get a few shots of the entire group using the timer feature on Steve’s parents’ fancy camera (that they’ve never used). He has no idea if any of them will be any good from the way he can hear Eddie muttering encouragement for everyone to strike weird poses right before the flash goes off, but at least they’ll be funny. Poses are much more encouraged for the rest of the photos, featuring the Ghostbusters battling their different ghostly opponents. El seems a little annoyed that she doesn’t have anything in particular to do, and thankfully no one suggests that she try to act out Dana possessed by Zuul—that’d be a little too close to home. 

So the last couple shots are of El fending off all three ghosts with her ‘cello’ case, delightedly shouting “Get away from her, you bitch,” no matter how many times the boys try to explain that yes that was Sigourney Weaver, but in a different movie. 

And then—

“Okay,” Eddie says loudly, clapping his hands and winking unsubtly at Steve, “who’s up for the haunted corn maze? Gozer is granting you lame little mortals a ride too and from, otherwise my associate Mr. Stay Puft here will be free to step on you with impunity—”

Ten chaotic minutes later, Steve is alone in a house full of candy and an empty stomach. He rubs absently at it while dumping all the kids’ candy bags out on the kitchen island counter. As he goes, he makes backup bags to send them home with—plain brown paper, the same ones he always used to take his lunches to school in—and matches every  fun-sized bar he dumps out with a full-sized bar he drops in. 

If he hesitates on a few of his favorite kinds of candy, no one has to know. Mostly, though, his thoughts are a mix of Claudia Henderson’s lasagna and wishing he were at the haunted corn maze with Eddie. He’s taken dates to the haunted maze before, it’s not that hard to find a dark corner where no one would realize it’s a guy he’s trying to woo, especially with the form-fitting Gozer costume thrown into the mix… But, well, they’ve spent a decent amount of extra time together while plotting this—read: getting high and congratulating each other on being so devious and smart—and that will have to do for now.

When alternate bags are all done, he grabs a Coke from the fridge and slurps at it while sorting the remaining candy into different bowls: one for just chocolate, one for nuts, one for nuggat, one for toffee, one for sour, and one for the rest. And then… he takes them all out to the living room couch, along with a new six-pack of Cokes. Fully aware of what he’s doing, but still floaty enough from the weed that he’s not really sure when he made the decision. 

The plan was to stash the stolen candy and share it with Eddie later, but he’s hungry. Probably won’t finish it all, anyway. There will still be some—and even if there’s not, he can always buy more. Doesn’t care right now, he’s hungry. He hasn’t eaten since, like… lunch. 

And, fine, yes, his weight has really gotten away from him, especially lately. He’s spent all summer whenever he wasn’t working lounging by the pool in his backyard, working on his annual tan while completely unbothered by danger beyond forgetting to apply enough sunscreen. Relaxing. Snacking. Drinking, sometimes beer but most commonly pop. He gets to do this now, he’s earned it, and he’s really enjoying himself. 

Steve settles himself amongst the candy bowls with a VHS in the player and a hand on his belly. It’s so soft and squishy, he usually ends up touching it one way or another these days; now, he feels all over the way it spills into his lap a little, kneading at it like a stress ball. With his other hand, he reaches for a Snickers bar and melts into the couch as it hits his tongue. 

Most of the trick-or-treat candy is small for each one to fit in his mouth in one go, and anything larger is a challenge that he meets with happy enthusiasm. 

After that initial bite, he starts with his least favorites, wolfing them down to get it over with and washing each mouthful down quickly with a Coke chaser. When he gets to the stuff he likes okay he lets himself slow down, still going at a steady pace but allowing himself to really taste and only popping a new Coke can as a palate cleanser when his mouth feels thick with chocolate and other layers of sweetness.

He’s no longer hungry at this point, but he’s not full, either. Maybe a little pinched though, so he sucks his fingers clean, shifts around a bit and leans until he can get at his waistband, and unbuttons his pants with a sigh. Stroking the red lines of his tummy as he reaches for a Three Musketeers, barely aware that it juts out a little more every time he frees it from his jeans these days. 

This is where he pauses to revive the tail end of the second joint he and Eddie had started just before the kids came over, sinking into the high and further into the couch with a pumpkin-shaped bowl balanced on his soft chest. He pours the little packets of M&Ms and Skittles into his mouth at the same time, just to see how it tastes, and it’s weird but he doesn’t hate it. Does that with the rest of them to try and decide if he likes the combo, and whines a little (he’ll never admit it) when they run out before he can reach a conclusion. The pumpkin-shaped bowl is empty. 

As Steve gets to his favorite candies (these in a regular white bowl, it matches his outfit) he picks up speed again. Somehow the movie is almost over, he’s hardly even watched it, and there’s only so much time left before Eddie’s van rumbles up into his driveaway again. He’s unwrapping the next two candies while still chewing, barely taking breaths between bites, trying to hurry and relishing every second of his impromptu and very unhealthy feast. 

He’s so enraptured with the unending parade of sweetness on his tongue, the constant chewing and swallowing and chewing and swallowing, that he almost misses the telltale sounds outside. (The movie is over, nothing of interest showing on the TV screen, when did that happen?) Frantic, he sweeps as many wrappers as he can out of his lap before going to stand up. It takes him a few tries, he’s so sunken into his spot, and when he finally manages it, red-faced and puffing and buzzing with adrenaline and sugar rush and the remaining high, he has to put a hand under his full, heavy belly in order to move around comfortably. Not quite cramping, not quite stuffed, just… a really satisfying stretch. 

But guess who doesn’t have time to enjoy it! God, he fucking hates being rushed these days. 

Eddie has a key. They’ll let themselves in, so all Steve has to do is get to his bedroom with the last of his stolen haul and two remaining Cokes from the six-pack. He gets there, barely, before he hears the front door swing open, hustling so fast up the stairs that the motion keeps jostling burps from between his chocolate-smeared lips. And then he’s in, sagging back against the closed door. Candy bowl clutched up by his chest and pops set on the floor nearby to get one open and bring it to his thirsty mouth. 

Okay, so maybe his exercise regimen has gotten a little bit lax lately. Maybe all he usually does is walk between his bedroom, the living room, the kitchen, and his car. Maybe he still sweats just as much despite getting around a lot less, because it costs him more effort than it used to…

No time to think about that, Steve tells himself dazedly. He needs to finish. The last of the candy is already unwrapped; he pushes the empty wrappers aside and grabs a handful, undiscriminating as he crams it in his mouth. One mouthful, then a second with hardly time to swallow, breathing hard through his nose. The treats act as a natural gag for his whimpers, fullness finally catching up to him, squirming on his padded ass with a muffled groan as the sensation sends a bolt of lighting straight south. Another handful, that’s basically the last of it, and he washes it down by chugging desperately at his Coke. Finishes it, claps a hand over his mouth to contain an inevitable belch—luckily, it’s covered by the start of indignant shouting from the living room. 

And he knows the scene he’s left. Trick-or-treat bags scattered haphazardly around the kitchen, empty. The living room couch littered with empty bowls and empty wrappers. Destruction at the hands (and mouth) of Mr. Stay Puft.

His jaw hurts, but there’s only a little bit left. Just a little more, and he finds that he wants it. Wants to finish the challenge… No, the prank, this is… to get the kids back… He feels so hazy between the pot and his overfull state, tipping the very last of the candy into his mouth and chewing with his mouth open, head tipped back against the door, exhausted. And then dutifully reaches for the last can of Coke, opens it, and pours that down his throat too. Breaks away from the lip of the can with a weak cry and another series of burps, even starting to hiccup which makes him whimper and clutch at himself, overheated and churning gut too loud to ignore and too tight in his skin, or maybe in his clothes, or both, he just—

“Steve?” Eddie calls through the door, sounding a little uncertain. “Karen just picked up half the kids and Joyce got the other half, I gave them all the replacement candy already. Are you… You good in there?”

“Eds,” he pants, groans, hiccups. “Je—hic—Jesus, I’m so.” He carefully lays both hands on either side of his distended belly in an attempt to soothe it. “I, I did it, I ate—urrrrrrp, fuck—ate all of it. Did it, Eddie. I’m so… Feel like I’m gonna explode…”

And he does, an overheated tingly sort of feeling washing through him in waves, his heartbeat pounding in his stomach and his ears and his dick. Not the first time it’s happened, the way he eats, but he’s gone all out tonight and the sensation of being ready to pop has seeped from his stomach to also encompass his hard-on. Part of him wants to keep going, but he doesn’t have anything else, couldn’t possibly fit any more down his throat, but he wants to do something.  Needs it. Needs…

“Eddie,” he groans, “he—hic—elp me.”

He can feel Eddie trying the door, but with Steve’s weight leaning against it there’s no way it’ll open. “Uh, I’m trying, I can’t…”

Laboriously, Steve kind of… rolls himself to one side, enough to haul himself onto his knees. He has to pause there, and again when he drops down onto his hands, and again after he crawls forward the barest few inches. Eddie tries the door again and it swings right into the meat of Steve’s ass, slapping against the tight denim and making Steve cry out, making him wobble and sway with a fresh wave of arousal that he absolutely didn’t expect but can’t help reveling in. He wants to drop down right there, he’s so tired and achingly horny, but knows instinctively that he can’t land on his belly like that. So he soldiers through, digging deep just to finish crawling to one side and slump against the plaid wallpaper instead. 

He breathes shallowly and waits for Eddie to come help him. 

The first look Eddie gets of Steve makes his eyes damn near pop out of his skull. Steve looks positively pot-bellied, spilling over his unbuttoned, unzipped pants like that, his belly button half uncovered and deep. Couldn’t suck in if he tried. He has chocolate and traces of candy-coating color all over his face and smeared on his sweater from all the times he’d thought he’d sucked his fingers clean but not quite, rubbing whatever was still on them into the fluffy knit. Messy, telling smudges at the bottom hem where he’d absently tried to pull the shirt down throughout his binge. It didn’t work; there’s a chocolate-smudged lip of far more than a mere muffin top bulging out the bottom, resting on his thighs. Jesus H. Christ, it almost looks like he’s doubled in size since Eddie last saw him a few hours ago, was there really that much candy in the kids’ bags?!

Eddie’s shoe knocks against an empty can as he enters the room, sending it spinning, and he supposes that’s his answer. It must be the combined efforts of candy and carbonated syrup water that have Steve so bloated, fizzing away in there. 

When he’d first walked in a few hours ago and seen Steve in costume, his breath had caught in his throat mid sentence. Super embarrassing, but what was he supposed to do? One minute they’d been talking about costumes, so stoned and loose-tongued that Eddie had suggested they be the goddamned Gatekeeper and Keymaster—characters that had canonically fucked, just left of onscreen! Next, it was weeks later (and he hadn’t actually blacked out all the time in between, it just felt that way for a second) and his current best friend and longtime crush opened the door in a tight sweater and pants that looked painted on, wearing a jaunty little hat atop his magnificent head of hair. The words well hello there sailor had lined up on his tongue like pirates ready to walk the plank. He’d had to think very hard about how many times he’d accidentally stabbed himself with a needle while sewing the ‘ghostly’ accents onto his costume, just to avoid popping a boner right there in Steve’s foyer. 

There’s just so much of Steve these days. So round, and all of his clothes perpetually tight. And Eddie’s been jerking off to the thought of this happening ever since they came up with this plan, imagining how the siren call of all that candy might make Steve’s mouth water, get his stomach rumbling, make him think that it wouldn’t hurt to have just one then taking another and another and another, insatiable… He just hadn’t expected it to actually happen.

“Eddie,” Steve groans again, looking up at him with pleading, bloodshot eyes. “I’m so full, n-need your help.”

“What can I do?” He drops down into a crouch in front of him immediately. “I’m right here, Stevie. What do you need, sweetheart?”

Okay, he needs to cool it with the pet names. Luckily Steve is already pawing at himself, looking so blazed he might not have even heard. “M’too, m’too hot Eds. Gotta get this off, get… off…”

Jesus H. Christ. 

So Eddie helps him out of the sailor collar and no longer pristine sweater. He tries not to stare but his eyes go wide when he realizes how much it was compressing. Steve groans in relief as it comes off and his entire upper half seems to puff out a little bit more, all covered in thick chest hair. Eddie wants to dig his fingers into it, into all of it, but he has to stay focused. 

Next are the pants, which Steve whines for Eddie to do and then whines more as he’s forced to lift his heavy ass, rock back and forth as Eddie drags the unforgiving fabric down, huffing and puffing between hiccups and burps and mewls of discomfort. Eddie’s dick is about to burst off and start running laps around the room for fuck’s sake, his hands are shaking he wants to touch so badly. Soothe away the stomach ache, tell him how amazing he did, finishing all that candy. Murmur in his ear, ask if that makes the revenge so much sweeter…

To make matters worse, the jeans take Steve’s boxers with them, elastic in the waistband already stretched to the point of uselessness, and Eddie can see so much. Too much, for his composure, as Steve’s cock slaps up against the underside of his belly. 

They both moan at that and Steve turns his head to look at Eddie full on with reddened eyes, tremors running through him that only give him more tantalizing friction against his hairy gut and prompt his hips to rock faster. He’s so blissed out that he doesn’t even break eye contact, just reaches blindly to grab Eddie’s hand and guides it down between his legs, rings and all, where he’s already slippery with precome and sweat and half sliding down the wall to help with holding his own belly out of the way. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes, captivated by the desperate heat in Steve’s gaze. He strokes, reverent but quick. “Holy shit, holy shit Stevie…”

“Eddie,” Steve moans. His eyes roll back, his entire head going with them to thunk against the wall. “L-like that, fuuuck—hic—Oh god, keep, keep doing that, more, Eds, more, I—”

Eddie dives forward and shuts him up with a desperate kiss. He already knows that Steve is going to cause him to ruin this damn Gozer costume he worked so hard on—in the hopes of impressing Steve, actually. Which he must have done, from the way Steve kisses back like he wants to devour him, like even after all that candy Eddie is the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted and never wants to be without again. 

Someone has definitely been impressed, and maybe Eddie will have to revisit the possibility of a god or something when he can think again because kissing Steve is heaven. Just… absolutely worth all the pining, even if it never happens again. 

Then Steve goes almost completely slack, breaking the kiss with a wail as he comes in thick, pulsing ropes over Eddie’s fist. His only movements are his legs (thick, biteable, trembling so hard to either side of Eddie’s hips they fall only to jerk up in little spasms as his toes curl) and his mouth (plush lips bitten and messy, twisting into shapes of wordless ecstasy). 

And Eddie has seen Steve relax, seen him indulge… seen him eat steadily through a large spread of snacks while lounging by the pool all summer in a Speedo with a sleepy, content look on his face, but this is the first time he’s really seen him let go. Lost in pure bliss. 

He’s barely thinking when he brings his come-slick hand up, thumbing through the chocolate in the corner of Steve’s mouth before sinking the digit inside. Coming himself, the instant after Steve eagerly closes around it and sucks, licks, drools all over his hand to get it all. Shuddering harder when Steve grips weakly at his wrist and continues laving over each finger one by one, slow but thorough, eyes open and dazed but tracking Eddie’s face. 

Until they’re both still, other than Steve letting out the occasional drowsy hiccup. Eddie’s fingers smooth over his parted lips, receiving faint kitten licks now and then as though Steve just can’t help himself. His other hand cradles the side of Steve’s bulging fullness, gentle against the duality of soft and immovable, in awe that he gets to touch. A part of him is still reeling that this happened at all, that he gets to see Steve so sated and sleepy and bare—except for one sock that’s managed to stay on his foot. 

Jesus H. Christ. Steve’s naked and they’re in his bedroom and they didn’t even make it to the bed.

“Do you, um. Want to lay down?” Eddie whispers. He can feel his face growing hot from the lameness of that question… Steve is practically on his back where he is, enough that he might not be able to see his feet. 

Steve nips at his pointer finger, blinking lazily with a little groan of contentment. “Does that mean I have to move,” he mumbles, but gamely begins to sit up. Eddie, from his crouch, shifts immediately to the side to help him, supports Steve’s back as he huffs his way towards semi-upright against the wall. “Urp—mm, thanks Eds.”

“No problem.” And Eddie doesn’t know why he’s whispering like he’s in a fucking library instead of kneeling in Steve Harrington’s bedroom with jizz sticky and cooling on the inside of his fucking body suit, but he doesn’t want to break whatever spell or dream that’s allowed this to happen. Wants to hold onto Steve a little bit longer, coaxing out little groans of contentment through belly rubs. 

Steve gives Eddie the sweetest smile, sleepy and sated. “Felt so good. Still feels good. Did you…” A flicker of uncertainty crosses his face. “Was it good? Was I good?”

And Eddie just can’t let that doubt linger another second. “You were perfect, sweetheart,” he replies immediately, rubbing slow, soothing stripes along Steve’s side. “Fucking amazing. Move over, Mona Lisa, there’s a new masterpiece in town and his name is Steve Harrington.”

That earns him a laugh, cut off quickly when Steve clutches at his belly with a groan. “O-overdid it. Mm… ‘S fine, ‘s just… a lot.”

“Certainly looks like it.” He leans forward and presses a kiss just north of Steve’s belly button, can’t help cradling it with both hands and rubbing soothingly. “Let’s get you up, okay? Get you in bed.”

Soon enough Eddie has him cleaned up and tucked in. 

“Stay?” Steve sighs, already more than half asleep. 

So Eddie shucks his costume and climbs under the covers behind him, chuckling as Steve sluggishly reaches back and tugs Eddie’s arm over himself, demanding to be snuggled. 

And that’s more or less how they wake up in the morning. 

“Eddie,” Steve says through a yawn, subtly rubbing his naked ass back against Eddie’s naked front. There’s a teasing note in his voice as he continues, “I’m hungry.”

Secure now in the knowledge that this is neither a dream nor some kind of trick, it’s a morning treat that Eddie just can’t resist.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added): @hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @tangerinesteve @sofadofax

[hotluncheddie]

I'm currently thinking about Eddie mildly teasing Steve about his weight gain!!! like he notices Steve has to sit with his legs spread wider than he used to in order to accommodate his big belly that sits in his lap now..... and he's like Steve can you even sit with you legs together anymore ? 😏 and Steve is like Yes !.... cue Steve wiggling and shifting and having to heft his belly up so he can get his legs together... then he's sitting and he's like There. See? and Eddie managed being a brat for two seconds cause now he's like 🥺 aw you're uncomfy no come on spread out take up as much room as you need, baby. can I get you anything? can I unbutton your jeans for you? can I touch your belly?

Anonnnnnnnn!!!! Yessssssssss!!!

I wrote this in a daze first thing after waking up this morning lol

U really gave me the brain worms so ty for that! Mwah!

(Also if you’ve sent me an anon before promise that I will get to it - I have one on the works also about Steve with a big belly that rests in his lap so, do not fear, it will be answered)

have some hurt/comfort belly kink wg steddie ;3c

-

Maybe Steve had holiday he needed to take, and it coincided with Eddie having a few days of, and some shorter shifts.

Steve spreads it out, some long weekend and 4/5/6 day stretches where he has time off. They stay in, Steve stays in, and Steve eats.

He eats near constantly, during his holiday time. only moving to go from bed to couch or couch to bathroom. Eddie bringing him meals to eat and snacks inbetween. He’s not stuffed to the brim, he does that when he get home from work - going to bed with Eddie fawning over his groaning belly. but he spends the whole time full, always food in there, always comfortably bloated.

And by the end of the month, or so, where he has most of the time off, shifts only here and there, he’s noticeably bigger. His belly pushing out against his T-shirts again. And pale fleshy roll slipping out of the bottom of anything that’s over six or so months old.

He’s bigger when Eddie watches him bending over to tie his shoes and return more red faced. And when he has to pause cooking in the kitchen to rest his belly on the counter with a sigh, taking the weight off his lower back. How he gets a little winded at the end of a flight of stairs. How he grunts a little louder when he flips from one side to the other in bed. Big pale belly spreading on the mattress between them.

Eddie notices. Eddie knows Steve notices -he must do.

But Steve doesn’t say anything.

Even when Eddie lovingly pokes fun at these new little actions. When he traces the strip of skin that escapes his too small clothes. When he pauses in bed to cover Steve’s big belly in kisses. Steve doesn’t point out how he's bigger, if he feels it, feels how his belly gets in the way so much more now.

And he used to, is the thing. Use to say it and get them both all riled up, get them in the mood in a few short words. Both turned on and amazed by his changing body.

So Eddie’s confused. So he does what he does best - is a little bit of a brat about it.

Steve is sitting on the sofa after work, he went to the diner with Robin so he’s already ate. But Eddie’s going to offer him desert, especially if he can get him to be good and admit what’s going on first. Just wants to feed him and dote on him and watch his belly round and stretch pink.

Steve is already noticeably a little full, drinking a coke and watching a basketball game. His belly thick and wide and he’s started spreading his legs to accommodate it, letting it sit across his lap and sink between his chubby thighs.

Eddie doesn’t really think it through, he just goes for it, leaning over with both hands leaning on Steve's knees. Smirking, eyes dark, ‘can you even sit with your legs together anymore big boy?’ Goading.

And Steve downs his coke, gets that competitive little glint in his eye that Eddie loves - that makes him hold Eddie down and fuck him extra deep. But the set of his jaw is strained.

Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes. ‘What would you know, Munson.’ And he smirks, both of them playing the game. But Steve’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Eddie stands back up straight, waving his hand as if to say; well, go on then. And steve huffs, scooting back a little and pulling his thighs together. Wiggling and then having to lift his belly with a grunt, moving under it and settling it back on top of his clamped together legs. It mounds out before him, moving with each breath and a strip of stretch marked skin is peaking out at his hip.

‘There, see.’ Steve says, a little breathless, cheeks flushed and eyebrows scrunched.

He looks. Big… ‘that looks.. really uncomfortable.’ Eddie says, not really playing anymore.

Steve grunts again, shifting slightly, pushing at the side of his tummy. ‘No. ‘Sfine.’ He argues, visibly annoyed, not playing either.

Eddie sinks to his knees, ‘Steve.’ He says eyes big and pleading. Nudging Steve’s knees to get his to spread them back open.

Steve looks away, doesn't move his legs, cheeks ruddy and eyes a little glassy.

‘Please talk to me baby.’ Eddie says softly, hand resting on Steve’s thighs. They’re shaking a little from the tension, from being held together so tightly.

‘I was, I’m scared Eddie.' Steve sniffs. 'That I’ve gotten too big. Too big for, for you.’ Looking down at Eddie again. He looks, he looks so sad.

‘Oh baby no.’ Eddie says instantly, suprised, disappointed in himself. ‘No no no. God Stevie, I’m so sorry if I made you feel like that. This.’ Eddie splays his two hands on steve belly. Palms cupping the lower curve. ‘Is prefect, your perfect Steve. Prefect for me at any size.’ Eddie doesn’t break eye contact, needs steve to know how much he means this.

Steve sniffs, eyes big and wet but a little smile is curling at the corner of his mouth, some of the tension leaving his body.

Eddie nudges Steve’s legs with his elbows, shuffling forward so steve had to spread them, has to let Eddie in.

‘That’s it.’ Eddie coos shifting steve belly gently now that is got more room. He rucks Steve’s shirt up to it sits below his soft chubby pecs, palms cupping and lifting the roll as his hips. Stroking the soft buttery part below his belly button, scooting impossibly closer, knees against the couch. making Steve spread and shuffle to he's splayed out and comfortable again. Sinking into the couch cushions with a sigh.

Eddie places a kiss on the top most crest of tummy, then cradles Steve’s soft cheeks in his hands. They’ll have to talk about it, what got steve so in his head, where the insecurity came from. But not now, now his baby needs to rest, needs looking after.

‘You want a snack sweetheart, want dessert?’ Eddie strokes the soft skin under steve eyes with his thumb.

Steve nods, little sigh leaving his pretty pink lips. ‘Please Eddie, ‘m so hungry.’ He pouts, playful glint back in his eye. Hand resting over Eddie’s on his gut.

There he is, his Steve. Eddie smiles, leaning up and kissing Steve breathless.

wg taglist (message to be added or removed) : @scoops-aboy86 @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

...also, maybe, @tangerinesteve idk if ur into this but i see u in scoops' tags and u wrote that cozy thing with Steve on eddie's soft thighs and belly... sorry if im wrong

[hotluncheddie]

I know what you are

[hotluncheddie]

Shots like that should be illegal tbh

[hotluncheddie]

Less "I hope you heal from the things you never talk about". More "I hope you find a safe space where you can be supported through actually processing what happened."

[hotluncheddie]

haaaaaappy june my lovelies your prompt this month is

stuff | 483 words

do some stuff, make a stuffing, stuff someone’s [redacted] with someone else’s [redacted] — as always feel free to interpret the prompt however you’d like! submissions should be steddie-centric 3rd POV with a title, rating, and any applicable cws, and the body of the fic should be 483 words exactly when pasted into wordcounter.net

mods will comment a 🥧 emoji once your submission has been verified and added to the reblog queue, and then you can add your fic to the june ao3 collection

i think you’re pretty

- wyn 🌞

[hotluncheddie]

I still have to watch Dungeon Meshi

[hotluncheddie]

day 1603

[hotluncheddie]

steddie meetcute at the bar bathroom sinks but it’s steve adjusting his hair way too specifically while eddie spends a full 50 seconds working a paper towel under his rings

[hotluncheddie]

Steve is definitely rambles when he's nervous, just as much and as bad as Robin- the difference is, the only person he feels safe enough to be open and vulnerable like that with is Robin. At first, she thinks it's just him picking up on her quirks. It takes her a while to realize, no, they really are soul sisters.