#chubby Steve Harrington

[hotluncheddie]

eddie, steve

.🥞✨

‘uh, the pancakes with bacon please, extra syrup? thanks.’

eddie knows that order. he makes it every saturday night, so late it’s almost morning.

but he’s never heard that voice before, never heard it so close, right by the pass window.

he swallows. turning from the sink in the back to face out into the diner, someone’s sat at the counter, right across from him.

the most beautiful boy eddie’s ever seen.

he’s looking right at eddie, cheeks slightly pink, fiddling with a still wrapped straw. he looks perfect and cozy and adorable, hair sleep rumpled and in a hoodie that swallows up his soft lines, making him look even softer.

‘coming right up.’ eddie rasps, his own cheeks colouring.

but the boy, he smiles. ducks his head, looks up at eddie through his lashes.

eddie’s a fucking goner.

-

steve can’t believe it. his eyes are even bigger this close up, big and brown and sparkling with life.

his hands are just as nice this close up too, delicate but capable as they move around where steve can see. he sticks his tongue out a little when he concentrates. it’s adorable.

he’s the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

he puts steves finished pancakes in the window with a little smile, rings the bell and seems to blush even harder. almost cringing at the sound. it’s makes steve laugh, he’s cute.

and they’re still the best pancakes the midwest has to offer, at denny’s, at 3am. even sober and nervous and exited like he is.

steve can’t help closing his eyes like always when he takes his first bite. always blown away by their sweet fluffy texture. and he makes his way through them a little quicker than normal, without robin to distract him.

they taste as good as normal but he’s right there. right there watching steve eat them. something about it makes him feel shy, barely daring to look up from his plate. but when he does the line cook has the softest smile on his face and steve relaxes, tucks his hand under his hoodie to rest on his stomach like normal. finished his pancakes.

when steve looks up again, the guy is staring at his empty plate, kind of stuck in space. but then he vanished for a moment and the door to the kitchen opens. and he’s coming over, picking up the syrupy plate and he has freckles, bats tattooed on his arm.

he’s so close. he’s so pretty this close.

the prettiest guy steve’s ever seen.

‘eddie?’ steve blurts, exited, finally able to read his name tag. his names eddie.

his name is eddie.

eddie’s cheeks get pink, the tips of his ears. he looks at steve with wide eyes ‘yeah?’ he asks, voice small and confused.

steve grins at him. ‘your names eddie.’ and he watched eddie’s smile bloom, he has dimples.

‘wha’ eddie clears his throat. ‘what’s yours?’ and steve feels his heart burst, feels like sunshine and crisp leaves.

‘steve.’ he says, a little breathless.

‘steve.’ eddie whispers.

‘when do you go on break?’ steve asks, heart beating in his throat.

eddie just shrugs, eyes still wide. ‘whenever. as long as there’s no customers in.’ and steve realises he’s the only one here. it makes him blush more, for some reason.

‘make us another batch?’ he asks, deciding to be brave, leaning over the counter, just to be a little closer. ‘we can share.’ and it’s so worth it. to see the smile grow on eddie’s face, watch him nod, watch a curl slip out of his bun. watch him work his magic through that little pass window. stealing glances at steve as he goes.

-

watching steve enjoy his food is even better close up. even better than eddie could’ve imagined.

they’re sitting in steve’s usual booth, eddie’s where robin normally sits, he finally has a name for the cool girl steve hangs out with. gets to hear a little about how they met, can tell he loves her, so much. it’s sweet, his eyes shining as he talks.

so is the way steve cuts the pancakes, sweet, pushing perfectly stacked mouthfuls towards eddie to have. pancake, bacon, pancake. all covered in syrup, sticky and delicious.

eddie never really even liked pancakes much, more of a waffle guy. but sitting here, watching steve eat them, laughing and smiling at things eddie says. jaw just a little soft, upper lip smattered with hair. watching steve sigh and stretch when they’re done. that hand coming to rest on his stomach again, the way it always does, every saturday night.

eddie knows he’ll always love pancakes.

-

‘how do you get them to be so good?’ steve asks, hand circling eddie’s wrist loosely, stopping him before he goes back to his job, an orders come in, he has to go. but steve needs to ask, wants to know. wants one more moment with him.

eddie smiles, takes steve’s hand and kisses the back of it. and it’s so out of place, at denny’s, at 4 am that steve giggles, almost manic. it’s the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘they’re made with love sweetheart.’ eddie says, looking up at him from his bow, kissing his hand again before walking away. the napkin with steve’s number on tucked safely in his back pocket.

steve’s forearm scrawled in the black ink of eddie’s own.

steve goes home and falls straight to sleep. so late its almost morning, like every saturday night.

he dreams of brown eyes, and syrup.

<3

fin.

ty for reading! mwah!

@xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @spectrum-spectre @stevesbipanic @finntheehumaneater @goodolefashionedloverboi @acedorerryn @scoops-aboy86

[flowercrowngods]

still on my journey to get better at smut, so uhhhh

chubby!steve fucking eddie at a highschool reunion

(explicit, ca. 1.1k | dom-ish top steve, belly kink, light degradation kink, multiple orgasms, semi-public sex, reunion sex??)

Eddie lets out a high-pitched moan as Steve lifts him off the ground, crowding him against the wall with all that glorious, glorious strength, manhandling Eddie like it’s nothing. If his dick weren’t already painfully hard and throbbing with need, it would be now, trapped as it is against Steve’s belly. It’s the hottest thing Eddie’s ever experienced.

“That what this is, baby?” Steve taunts, slowly grinding against Eddie, the bulge in those preppy-ass pants hot and hard against him.

Eddie moans again, shaking his head in denial even though they both know it’s useless, pointless. He’s been exposed. Quite literally, too.

“You think I’m sexy like this? I make you hard just from looking at me? Don’t think I didn’t see you there, Munson.”

God, the mouth on this man! Eddie never did stand a chance.

“You wanna fuck me so bad it makes you look stupid, letting me manhandle you like that. Think I can fuck yon against the wall, Eddie? Hold my dainty little princess up while I fuck all the words right out of your dirty little mouth, hmm?”

Eddie moans again, his hands finding their way into Steve’s hair, tugging and pushing and pulling him closer, closer, closer. He needs more. He needs Steve to do all of that and more. Come inside him, mark him up, let it trail out of him while they return to the gym — or leave him like that for everyone else to see, everyone else who happens to walk by this abandoned classroom in search for some privacy.

It’s been ten years. Ten years since Steve Harrington in all his glory graduated school and left Hawkins behind.

And oh, those years must have been glorious for him if he looks like this now. Bulky. Strong. Magnificent. Like he’s finally grown into that muscle he’s always had and polished it up with some softness.

Eddie was hard the moment he laid eyes on him.

And now here they are — in their old science classroom. If there were any coherent thought left in his mind, he’d make some quip about finally getting some biology lessons.

As it is, though, Steve surges up to claim his lips in a searing, filthy kiss while he divests Eddie of the rest of his clothing.

Eddie is naked now, trapped against the wall by that magnificent bulk of a man who is still fully dressed save for his suit pants being unbuttoned and that white dress shirt open all the way, exposing his hairy chest and tummy. The need to touch him is stronger now than the need to be fucked brainless, and Steve’s groan when Eddie runs his hands up and down those large pecs is absolutely worth the momentary lack of friction.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, unaware of the words leaving his mouth until they find their mark, making Steve falter in his frantic movements.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie swallows. “Always wondered what you’d look like now. Hoped for this.” He trails his hand down the prominent happy trail, all the way to where Steve’s cock is still trapped, leaking against his underwear.

They both moan as Eddie feels him up, gently jerking him as much as the angle allows, and Steve meets his movements with thrusts of his own, which in turn provides friction for Eddie’s throbbing erection.

God, this man is glorious. He wants to shout it from the rooftops.

“That so?” Steve murmurs, hands coming up to Eddie’s hair again, one of them trailing down to his lips. “King Steve was never enough for you, hmm? You wanted more. Always knew you were a greedy little slut, Eddie Munson. Practically begging for it with your little stunts. Wanted my eyes on you, didn’t you? We’re always so stupid for me.”

He moves his hips in a particularly mean thrust that makes Eddie keen, one finger moving past his lips for Eddie to suck while the one in his hair pulls meanly before coming down to his cock, jerking so hard and fast that Eddie’s legs quiver. Not that it matters, with the hold Steve has on him without even using his hands.

Eddie has nowhere to go; one finger in his mouth and a skilled hand on his dick. He doesn’t want to go anywhere. He wants to stay in this moment forever. Wants to tell Steve as much — stupidly — but all that comes out is a series of “Ah—ah—ah—ffffuck!” as the man renders him useless.

“All you had to do was ask,” Steve taunts, condescending in every possible way, and Eddie almost blows his load just then.

“P—Please,” he manages around Steve’s finger in his mouth, and the asshole speeds up. It’s all Eddie can do to shake his head, to whine between his moans and let him know that, No, not like that! “Want you. Need you.”

“You have me,” Steve whispers, his lips touching Eddie’s in an almost-kiss that is so intoxicating Eddie loses all sense of self for a second there.

“Fuck me,” Eddie whines. “Please. F—Fuck me against the wall, fuck the words right, right outta my mouth, fuck— like you said. Like that. Please.”

And oh, Steve does. Prepares him on four fingers until there are no words in Eddie’s brain anymore, clamps his hand over his mouth because “I don’t want anyone to find you just yet, baby. Want you all to myself. Want your cum on my belly and have you clean it up, eat it all like the filthy slut you are.”

He fucks him deeper than anyone’s ever fucked him, leaves him trembling with need even after he’s come twice, splattered Steve’s soft belly with it and almost came a third time just from that vision alone.

“One more, baby,” Steve tells him. “One more for me, then I’m gonna fill you up just like you want it, yeah? Fill you so good, mark you up so everyone knows you spread your legs for the King like my pretty little concubine. My pretty little princess, hmm? You gonna come again for me? Can you be a good boy for me?”

Eddie can. He comes with a muffled shout, adding a third load to Steve’s skin, framed by his otherwise pristine suit in what must be the most obscene vision Eddie’s ever seen.

Steve strokes him through it, gentler now, telling him how proud he is, how good Eddie was for him as he thrusts his hips one, two, three more times before he, too, finds his release in Eddie’s body. Well, in the condom; they’re not stupid. But a man can dream.

And, oh, does he dream. With Steve still inside him, his hips bucking with aftershocks as he buries his face in Eddie’s neck, licking and sucking and biting.

Eddie will always dream of Steve Harrington. Especially after tonight.

was gonna put this in @hotluncheddie’s ask box but then it hit 1k so here we go instead i guess

[steviewashere]

The Bow on a Gift

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Internalized Fatphobia, Fatphobia, Disordered Eating, Negative Body Image, Body Dysmorphia Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chubby Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Self-Esteem Issues, Steve Harrington Has a Bad Mom, Sad Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Chubby Chaser Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss

I'm a fat guy and this is partially based on experience. So you will be nice, or else. (There's nothing I'll do, but I am scowling, if you must know.)

Read on AO3

💕—————💕 Steve Harrington was a chubby little kid. You wouldn’t know that unless you asked directly, but it’s true. He’d been a little boy with dirty blonde hair, sun kissed cheeks, and a thick body sturdy enough to climb trees in his backyard. He didn’t parade this information around, though. Not with the voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like his mom; telling him to drink another glass of water instead of getting just one more scoop of food, to check the nutrition label on his packet of cookies (and to stop eating them immediately if the first ingredient was sugar; which it was, it always was), and to stay away from certain foods. Candies, chips, carbs—anything his mom disapproved of, labeled unnecessary and innutritious.

So, his relationship with food and body went from: This is good. To: It’s no longer good enough.

He had slimmed down over the years, no praise towards his eating habits. This was pure just working out through sports and gym class. His meals were portioned out to him by his parents, served to him as seen fit in school, or packed to be the best of the best. Always without the addition of some sort of snack food. Bad food, as it had been deemed in his house. Junk food, as it had been deemed by the public.

Other kids would offer up single Oreos from their sack lunches. He’d shake his head with a wry smile, say something about ‘watching his figure’ (like his mom would say), and go back to eating whatever meager meal was in front of him. A tuna salad sandwich some days. Water and a salad—leaves wilting and dressing a little left of good sour—on others.

He mourned those little moments of indulgence in his day. The couple little chocolate candies he could have before going to bed on Halloween night. A snack cake from the Byers family next door. His very own baggie of Doritos to go with his freshly made turkey sandwich, the champion’s meal after long days spent in the pool. And so his relationship with food and body went from: It’s no longer good enough. To: There’s nothing good about it.

Steve Harrington was a chubby kid. But he won’t talk about it, not really.

Though, he sort of has to now. Now that he’s thicker again, soft belly and chunky thighs and meaty arms. Now that the world ending fights are over and he’s relaxed and a little more sedentary than he was. Now that Eddie is giving Steve sad, cow-like, brown eyes whenever he mentions ‘watching his figure’ or being ‘not hungry’, or when he looks at a freshly taken Polaroid and asks a little too loudly under his breath ‘is that what I really look like?’.

——— Eddie’s sitting on the couch next to him. He’s shirtless, fresh from outside in the pool, eating away at a bag of Ruffles he brought with him. There’s an open can of Coke on the coffee table, gently popping and foggy from the fridge. The bag is shifted between them, open side towards Steve.

He eyes the chips inside. The dark orange coating—cheddar and sour cream flavored. Knows that if he takes even one, he won’t be able to stop himself. That he’d probably eat the whole bag. Because he’s done that before. After he’d not let himself indulge in snack foods, he’ll do that. Take in whatever junk food item he can find, hide away in his room, and eat it until he’s either sick or can’t stomach anymore. Usually the former happens before he knows it.

They look tantalizing though. And his tongue salivates at the mere thought of them. Imagining the salty goodness flat on his tongue. The savory notes of cheddar. What it would be like to give in could only be described as a dream.

“You wanna few?” Eddie asks around a mouthful. He absentmindedly scratches at his belly, Steve watching. Looking between them. At his own body, where he’s begun to develop a little pouch of a belly, folding over his older, tighter Hawkins High sweatpants. Then he peers at Eddie’s, lithe, thin, fit as a fiddle—even though Steve watched him devour an entire pizza outside, even though he had a few ice cream bars, even though he’d guzzled down some beers.

Steve knows as soon as he eats one of these chips, everything his mom said will come true. That it’ll go straight to his waistline. That he won’t be able to shed the pounds. That he’ll be a disgusting mess. Even though this body is comfortable, a little warm, entirely soothing. Even though he could see himself chubby again and know that he’d recognize himself. He looks like he did just before high school, before he really started to lose weight, when he was the happiest he’d ever been.

“Nah, I’m good,” he relays through a tight, fake smile. “Had quite a big lunch not too long ago, remember? I’m trying to watch my figure.” He pats his own center for good measure. Palm meeting soft cushion, like he’s patting a pillow. But he’s all too aware that’s his own middle he’s touching. Grimaces at the realization.

Eddie eyes him for a beat. Chewing stopped, food swallowed, not going back for more. He not so subtly wipes his crummy, greasy chip fingers on his swim shorts. And just keeps looking. “Why do you do that?” He asks bluntly.

Steve chuckles nervously. “Do what?”

“You make these awful comments about your body. Why do you do that?”

He scoffs. “Like you weren’t already thinking them, Eddie. I’m fat. And I shouldn’t be eating all this shitty food.” His hand rests on his middle, scrunching his fingers lightly, feeling that extra padding through his t-shirt. Feels like he should’ve grabbed a different shirt. Something looser. Something less outlining, skin-tight. It doesn’t actually fit against his skin like plastic wrap, but it tries to.

As Eddie continues to stare in stunned silence, Steve retreats in his mind.

Thinking over how a lot of his clothes have become tighter in the last several months. Thinks over everything he ate today—a slice of pepperoni pizza (‘Too much bread, Steven,’ his mom’s voice states), four glasses of water, a banana, the chocolate bar Robin threw at him (‘Think of the sugar, Steven! That’s awful for you,’ his mom rings out again), and a single beer (‘Beer? Really? That’s alcohol, Steven. God, you really are like your father’, and that particular comment stings. His dad is a bigger guy, has a bigger gut, wears larger clothes. It stings.) He kind of wants to cry. To hide. To run away.

So that’s what he does. He stands abruptly from the couch. Eyes on him, still, burning and observing. Seeing exactly who he is and how he’s shaped. And he darts up to his bedroom—trying not to focus on how parts of him jiggle or how parts of him slap against the other or how his sweatpants shift in a way that pinch him because they’re too small. He slams his door shut, locks it, and stuffs himself at his desk. And 'stuffs' feels right because his chair creaks, it squeezes him. He can feel it. Feel himself. Knows every little movement he makes and how it makes him look.

And his eyes drift over to the few pictures he has framed on his desk. Some of Robin and some of Dustin. One with Eddie and Mike. Then, one that particularly irritates him, is a photo Eddie sneakily took. Of Steve laying on one of the loungers outside, shirtless for once, belly spilling over the waistband of some swim shorts, hairy and soft. There’s a roll forming under his chest. And he squeezes the equivalent of that now, noticing that it seems bigger than the picture is making it out to be. Looks harder and notices his chest has grown to be a bit flabby, moobs. Eyes scrutinizing the way his ankles are bigger and his watch is tighter on his wrist and that he’s laying on his chair in such a way that there’s a more pronounced double chin. He squishes that, too. The heft of his fat between his fingers. And for a moment, he kind of wants to throw up.

His cheeks are warm under his fingertips. Squishy. Pinch-able. And his fingers are thick, thicker than he remembers them being. His feet feel wider when he flexes them under his desk. Every little bit of him is softer and more humiliating and just a little more disgusting.

This was a safe body at one point. The softness in it was comfort. And the warmth it carried was a balm. But it’s just this. A terrible reminder of how selfish he is, how over-indulgent he is, how much of a mistake he’ll always be.

He shouldn’t do it, but he looks back at the photo. At everything about him. The roll and the moobs and the soft underbelly. The thick neck and thicker legs and widening wrists. And then his eyes drift back to his center. Noticing, for the first time ever, that he’s got those red stretch mark lines forming on his hips and near his belly button.

Remembers, only some short years ago, when he was stout and chubby and still a pre-teen dorky kid—how his mom would make all sorts of ugly comments about those lines. When she’d see the silvery ones left after giving birth to him, the way her fingers would trace them and she’d scoff. Or how she’d see them on his dad’s hips, making some short comment about how fat his dad was getting. Remembers the look of hurt that would flash over his dad’s face—quick and subtle, but contorted and downward and sour nonetheless. And he knew, still knows, that sometimes his dad can be a total asshole—college and work and doing good in life all stark reminders of failure—but knowing that even the biggest, toughest, and smartest of guys can be knocked down with statements like that…It always made Steve feel just a bit sick. He knew he’d never be perfect in their eyes, but something about his physical attributes being all that matters to his mom, that hurts. He may never be the smartest of their family tree or the best, but at least his dad can find respect for him in other regards—knowledge about cars or sports or hugs given after rude comments from his mom.

There was no respect for Steve’s soft body, though.

And how was he supposed to respect his own when it was nothing to everybody else? When it was gross, unflattering, the topic of every conversation? When he was peered at like a bug, poked and prodded, scarred?

He gently rolls the t-shirt he’s wearing so that it sits just below his pecs. And looks down. Lifting up a love handle to really get a good look. There they are. Red, fresh, scarred reminders of just how awful his body is.

Nobody likes the fat kid. Not his mom. Not his middle school gym teachers. Not his old friends. How is he supposed to believe that this body of his is liked now? All he’s heard is negative. And negative it must be.

A knock on his bedroom door breaks him out of it. “Steve?” Eddie’s soft voice flutters in.

Steve sniffs, unbeknownst to him that he was crying. He hastily wipes at his cheeks. Choked, he calls out, “Please go away, Eds.”

Eddie sighs gently. Rests his head on the door, his hair rustling from how he shifts. “I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he sincerely apologizes. “I just…I don’t know. It makes me upset to hear you talk like that.”

“Yeah, well—“ His voice crackles, attempting to be stubborn, but sorely failing. “—It makes me upset that you have to see me like this. I’m…Eddie, I’m fucking ugly, don’t you get that?”

For a long moment, Eddie doesn’t speak. And in that time, Steve thinks he left. Left because he realizes that Steve’s right, that he is some ugly mess, incapable of being loved correctly. But then the gentlest voice Eddie’s ever carried comes through. “Baby, you’re not ugly.”

Steve’s chin wobbles, eyes stinging with unshed tears. “I am, Eddie. I am—“

“I look at you, Steve and see somebody I want to know infinitely,” Eddie admits quietly, bulldozing the claim Steve was making. “You’re someone that I seek out, a person I find comfort in. You are…” And he swallows heavily. The sound unmoored by Steve’s shaky breath. “…You are so damn beautiful to me. I—I know that’s hard to believe, probably with how you view yourself, but it’s true. I enjoy the fact that you’re relaxed enough now to indulge, to grow comfortable. I love the way peace wears itself on you, Steve. You’re beautiful, you’re everything, you’re…Steve, you’re somebody I love so deeply that I can’t fathom viewing you any other way.”

Slowly, Steve comes back to the door. He twists the doorknob, listening as Eddie shuffles back a couple half-steps. And opens it just enough to peer through. Eddie’s soft, sad eyes are on him again—not observing, just looking. There’s something warm in his gaze though, a warm blanket stretched between them that Steve wants to nestle in.

“Do you really mean that?” Steve asks a little breathless. It sounds whiny to his ears, maybe a little petulant. But Eddie doesn’t look affronted by it or mad. Just disheartened.

He nods gently. “Yeah, sweetheart. I really do mean that. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“Even though I’m…Though I’m fat?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers immediately. And another part of Steve preens, loving that Eddie didn’t say something stupid like, ‘You’re not fat.’ Because so many people have said that. Too many people have said that. “Steve you could be in any kind of body and I’d still think you’re beautiful. And…uh, it’s kind of odd to admit it, but maybe I have a preference for chubby people?”

Steve snorts and opens the door a little wider. “Really?” He asks, a semblance of teasing back in his voice. “Is that really something that does it for you?”

“There are so many places on you that I can use as a pillow. Or that I could bite. You’ve got more space for kisses! Steve, think about how many kisses I could give you!” Eddie emphatically states. He grows a little meek-ish, though, when he continues. “And, honestly? I’ve been attracted to you since like…seventh grade. I’ve literally seen you in all shapes, all sizes. My attraction to you has not wavered, tell you that much. The chubby bit is like a giant bow on top of an already amazing gift. Y’know the kind of bows that are sticky on one side? The ones you sometimes stick to your forehead and then you keep afterwards because you liked how shiny it was and your mom says something like, ‘Why on earth are you keeping that?’ and then you say you like it because it’s pretty and then she rolls your eyes and lets you keep it, but then you’ve got like something really cool and awesome and memorable in your hands and you just kinda want to cradle it forever? That’s—“ Eddie takes a heaving breath, washing out Steve’s tiny fit of giggles. “—That’s…I want to hold you in my hands and keep you forever.”

Steve takes a step out in the hallway, grabs Eddie’s hand, and leads them back into his bedroom. He’s still laughing as Eddie squawks, blushing furiously, nervously chuckling back. He takes Eddie’s face between his softer hands, relishing in the way he reaches up and grabs onto Steve’s wrists. Thumbs running warmly over pulse points. “You’re such a dork!”

“And you’re such a beautiful person, Stevie.”

He leans in, resting his forehead on Eddie’s collarbone. Hands falling down to his biceps. Squeezing. “You’re such a dork,” he reiterates, voice soft and awed. “And it’s the nicest thing in the world. But I…” Steve looks back up, chin digging into Eddie’s chest, peering up reverently just as Eddie does the same downwards. A hand cups the back of his head, running over his hair. “I need you to know that sometimes I still feel bad.”

“Means I can remind you more just how much I love you.”

“And I have a bad time controlling my food habit bullshit.”

Eddie shrugs. “So I’ll be there to help you out, no biggie.”

“And I have stretch marks.”

Warm hands travel up and down Steve’s back. And…yeah, it feels nice the way Eddie’s palms glide over his softer parts. How they tenderly hold him. He doesn’t feel bad, not within these arms. “I’ve seen ‘em,” Eddie admits quietly. “You wanna know what they mean to me, though?”

“Hm?”

“It means that you’re comfortable enough to relax. To let yourself…be at peace. And the best thing about ‘em is that they’ll turn silver with time. Shows to the world your survival, sweetheart,” Eddie explains. Voice gentle, seeking. Loving. “Means that at some point in our lives, whatever stretch marks you have will fade just like the other scars we share. They’ll just become another memory of yesterday. And that I can admire them when we’re a little more wrinkled, wrapped around each other in bed, sharing kisses like secrets. Means that we won and I got to keep you as my prize.”

Steve shifts his hands from Eddie’s biceps to his face again. Holding him just as soft as Eddie is. Just enough to squish his cheeks, just enough to feel him, but not smother him. And he pulls him in. Rubs his nose against the tip of Eddie’s. With all the adoration he’s ever felt for Eddie—enough to make him want to burst with it, enough to warm him, enough to paint him golden—he kisses him. No tongue, just a press of lips. Chapped skin and tiniest bit of crumbs that Eddie, somehow, did not wipe away completely. He kisses just to transfer. A love so all encompassing, it needs nothing more than this, nothing more than softness and warmth and the two of them in a small space. His love for Eddie, kept away and flourishing like greenhouse flowers. And just like those plants, he can share this love, keep it comfortable and year-round.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against Eddie’s lips. Pulls back slightly to gauge all of Eddie’s face. Adoration gleaming in his chocolate eyes. “I wish I had better words to give you.”

“When I have you in my arms? There’s nothing else that’s better, Steve. I could have you just like this forever, deaf and blind and mute, and I would view it as heaven.”

Steve sniffs, again, unknowingly crying. But Eddie thumbs away his tears as if it’s nothing. And maybe it is. Maybe he doesn’t have to worry so much with somebody like Eddie. “You’re a sap,” he gently teases. But then his face gets serious again, tone shifting once more. “You wouldn’t mind that I kept my body like this, though? This genuinely wouldn’t bother you?”

“Chubby chaser,” Eddie states, pointing at himself. “If it was bothersome, ever, to me, you’d have to kill me. Because that definitely wouldn’t be me, babe.”

He smiles, teeth and all. “Good because I…I do like this body a lot, even though it seems like I don’t. It’s just shit I’m working through, y’know? But I like being able to just let go. Be at peace, so you said.”

Eddie hums. Presses his hands into Steve’s back. Kisses him softly, just to kiss and nothing more. “Then just be. Do it for you,” he whispers.

“Okay, Eds. I’ll try.” At that, his stomach grumbles. He chuckles, moment ruined. “We should go get something to eat,” he suggests.

“Yeah? I heard there’s this bag of Ruffles downstairs that your…boyfriend?” Steve nods, answering wordlessly. “That your boyfriend tried to offer up earlier. Maybe we should eat that.”

Steve nods. “We should see how many we can stack on our foreheads. My record is ten.”

“And you say I’m a dork.”

“You are a dork.”

Eddie smiles, lets Steve guide them back downstairs. Murmurs, “And you’re beautiful.”

💕—————💕

[crayonboxcolors607]

There are days when Steve wakes up and he hates his body. Looks in the mirror, disgusted, at the scars across his torso and neck, the stretch marks on his stomach and hips. How his thighs rub up against each other when he walks, how they expand when he sits down. Pulls meanly at the chub that’s accumulated at his tummy and chest. 

After the upside down, after everything, Steve gained weight.

Eddie says it’s because he wasn’t constantly in fight-or-flight mode anymore, and his body was finally able to relax.

Robin says it’s because he was destined to have a bit of a dad bod, that it was just the ruling of the universe.

He still works out though. He’s in great shape too. Goes on a few-mile-long run every morning. lifts three times a week. The only thing he’d strongly refused was dieting.

Steve remembers how his mother would come home from her trips with his father, her cheeks gaunt and pale even through her makeup. Her thin frame hidden by a ridiculously expensive shawl.

How she used to sit him down and force him to separate “good foods” from “bad foods”.

How there were never any sweets in the house.

Back when Steve was young enough to need a nanny while his parents were away, he would beg and plead with her to just let him try one piece of candy. One lick of a lollipop. The closest he ever got was three dark chocolate baking chips.

Afterward, when he was left alone, when he was responsible for feeding himself and getting groceries, he would stand in the produce section for fifteen minutes, his mother's voice ringing in his head. 

The first time he went to a movie and bought himself a soda and popcorn, he had to leave halfway through to cry.

The first time he had real candy, he almost had a panic attack.

It took him way too long to reteach himself about food, how to remember that food is food and food is fuel. That he should be listening to his body and eating what he wants when he’s hungry.

And here’s the thing. Steve knows that he’s the healthiest he’s ever been. Sees it in Mrs. Henderson’s eyes when he drops Dustin off, how he no longer hears her fussing about him being too skinny.

In Joyce’s smile when he gets up for seconds of his own cooking.

In Hopper and Wayne’s approving ‘dad nods’ when they all sit down over meat from the grill.

So on those days, when Steve wakes up and doesn’t feel like he’s right, he tries to remember that instead.

How Robin curled up against him one movie night, pausing before stating decisively, “You’re softer now dingus. It’s nice. Gives me the best pillow.”

How El will give him hugs that are tight tight tight and tell him he looks like a teddy bear she used to have.

How Eddie will absolutely worship him.

If that man could die beneath Steve, he would. Is far too obsessed with the way Steve’s ass moves.

They’ll get home from hanging out with the Party and Eddie won’t wait a single second before shoving Steve against the wall, mouthing at his neck.

How he pushes Steve onto the bed against his stomach, his face rubbing against the sheets as he braces his hands on Steve’s thighs in a way that causes bruises. Fucks his tongue into him, slow and sinful, telling him, “Go on sweetheart. That’s it, just like that. Doin’ so good for me.”  How Eddie moans like Steve is ambrosia from the gods and Eddie can do nothing but lap at their fountain.

How afterward, after steady thrusts and cries of each others’ names and the cooling of dried come, Eddie will cradle Steve close to his chest. Will whisper, “Love you so much, sweetheart. You’re it for me.” How he’ll sing him Head Over Heels by Tears for Fears, because as much as he preaches about hating the conformist bullshit and the top forty hits, he loves to see his boy happy, wiggling in Eddie’s arms as he sings Steve’s favorite song.

[scoops-aboy86]

Love Spell No Go au is complete

This is the feedism epilogue that a handful of folks have been waiting for, but if that's not your jam you can just stop after the "Summer" chapter. Otherwise, enjoy!

Now on ao3 in full.

Months pass, and Steve makes sure Eddie still sticks to his regimen of physical therapy exercises. As he gets stronger, closer and closer to where he’d been before Spring Break, he also watches Steve get back to what he thinks of as normal with a warmth in his chest. 

(And yeah, between his legs, but they’re dating now, it’s allowed, even if that technically didn’t stop him before.) 

That warmth never quite goes away, even when they’re apart. Sometimes he calls Steve and can hear the crinkle of snack wrappers or chip bags in the background like the pre-Starcourt days, and feels lit up from the inside. When Steve comes over, Eddie makes sure to have pre-rolls and quarts of ice cream ready and waiting, in case Steve wants to indulge—and more often than not, he does. 

It’s a much different Steve than the boy he fell for back as underclassmen. Yes, he has the same hair (softer to the touch than Eddie had dared imagine and as thick on his chest and legs as on his head), the hazel eyes (deep with an ocean of trauma from four years of coping with monsters… and the demo-things those monsters had unleashed on the world, too), and that cute dazed look when he’s surprised (or sleepy, or stoned, or full). There’s a clarity of self that hadn’t been there before; the person Steve has grown into knows so much more of who he is and wants to be, and that pulls Eddie even more firmly into his orbit. 

Steve says he’s thinking about becoming a school counselor, and Eddie would move literal mountains to help make that happen. Although, Steve has asked him not to use magic to help, because he wants to prove that he can make it on his own merits. Eddie, fresh out of finally graduating high school, can respect that. 

Steve offhandedly says he’s getting hungry and Eddie is already up and headed towards the kitchen to grab or make him something, the phone to order in, or his van to make a grocery run. It’s just… He wants to take care of him, give him whatever he wants after all that silent suffering. His boy, his sweet Stevie, looks so happy with a treat in his hand, nibbling or sipping something or both while they cuddle on the couch half watching, half talking through a movie on the big tv at the Harrington house. 

And he doesn’t know how to bring it up. Steve eats, and Eddie encourages it while watching the results settle on Steve’s belly and ass (and legs and arms and chin and…), biting down on the urge to let his hands roam over those parts of him constantly. Which is to say, he still does it, just… fleetingly. He doesn’t want to make it a whole thing if Steve might not be comfortable with that. 

Still, he can’t help giving in a little and coaxing Steve into wearing his battle vest again as an excuse to see and touch his thicker arms. Sometimes just the vest so he can see the difference from that first time in the-place-which-shall-not-be-named. Never missing an opportunity to fervently admire his boyfriend, to fall at his feet in private and use his mouth and hands to wordlessly convey his devotion. 

The words, he figures, will come to him eventually. For now, he focuses on making Steve as happy as he can. 

~

It had been nearly a year since Starcourt, and for a long time Steve had forgotten. Maybe remembered in little moments when Eddie called him big boy in the RV or brought him lunch at Family Video that time, but those had just been glimmers. Pale reflected light, like the moon barely peeking through cloud cover, nothing like the real thing. 

He remembered when Eddie was feeding him his chocolate pudding from a hospital bed. Steve had apologized after realizing he’d finished it off, but the words were a little hollow because he’d felt like he’d finally found sunshine again. 

Now that he remembers what he likes and how much, and it opens floodgates that he wouldn’t dream of trying to close. 

So he eats whatever and however much he wants, and Eddie indulges the habit, always sharing his food with him when they have dates or when it’s just them and Robin. Always passing him more at larger get-togethers and smiling when Steve accepts, sometimes doing that thing where he tugs hair across his mouth and watches Steve with big eyes like he can’t believe he’s real. It’s clear that Eddie is happy with his significantly relaxed workout schedule and that he isn’t policing himself when he eats anymore, which… Steve had known it at the time that neither of those things were particularly healthy of him to do. When his parents had come back briefly in between business trips and made approving comments in passing about the weight he’d lost, a part of him kept beating against the inside of the mask he wore and screaming, I have nightmares every night, I am not fucking okay! He’s glad to be free of that mask now, and it’s reassuring to be with someone who feels the same. 

When Eddie touches him, more and more he lingers where the muscles Steve had worked himself to the bone for are becoming less distinct. A sweeping touch from his pecs downwards lingers on his belly before continuing on is a benediction. Steve lives for those touches, same as the way he lives for Eddie grabbing his ass or kissing the scars on his neck, leaning into Eddie with a responsive shiver because oh, he likes that. 

“And,” Robin adds cheerfully when Steve tells her about it, “you don’t look like I could play the xylophone on your ribs anymore, which is great!”

“What?” He blinks, then lifts the bottom of his shirt to inspect himself. “You could not—” 

She takes the opportunity to poke his side—where his ribs never showed that much, he’s sure, but definitely aren’t visible now—and cackle, and Steve chases her around her room with a pillow trying to whack her over the head. 

It feels good. 

~

Not everything is good. The first anniversary of Starcourt sends him into a tailspin for a while, kicked off with the sound of fireworks cracking the warm night air. 

Even amidst the nightmares and panic attacks, Steve feels bad about it coming so close on the heels of Eddie’s long awaited graduation from Hawkins High—though when he breaks down and admits as much one night, Eddie pets his sweaty hair and kisses his equally sweaty temple and tells him not to worry about it. 

“Sweetheart,” Eddie replies patiently when he keeps trying to apologize anyway, “you threw me two big parties and officially relieved me of all remaining shreds of my virginity. I felt thoroughly celebrated, believe me, and all the traumatic shit you’ve been through rearing its ugly head right now doesn’t take away from that. Now, how about we turn on every light in the house on our way to the kitchen, and I’ll whip up some frozen hot chocolate and whatever you want for a midnight snack?”

Steve whines in his arms and holds him tight, face pressed to his neck. They’ve never talked about it, but he thinks Eddie might be mixing little spells to help him get back to a dreamless sleep in that hot chocolate. If the suspicion were ever confirmed he’d never be able to thank him enough, so he doesn’t ask. “I don’t deserve you…”

Eddie hums in disagreement and kisses the top of his head. “Right back atcha, sweet boy.”

Eventually Steve stops waking up screaming that he works for Scoops Ahoy. Sometimes he only tosses and turns a bit, waking up hungry enough to slip out of bed to get his own midnight snack. And more often than not, when he does that, Eddie will wander sleepily in and wrap both arms around him from behind, mumbling that he missed “my Stevie,” a pet name that never fails to stoke a warmth in his chest. 

The days when Steve would work off his panic with excessive running or swimming laps are long gone, and he doesn’t miss them. Nor does it escape his attention that Eddie’s arms don’t overlap across his stomach as much as they used to. 

It feels like healing. 

~

Eddie shouldn’t have worried about how to broach the subject. It happens naturally, starting with his battle vest over Steve’s bare skin and Eddie’s inability to stop staring or keep his fingers out of Steve’s chest hair. 

“Hey,” Steve chuckles, batting his hands away for the upteenth time because they keep bumping his milkshake cup. “Come on, man, let me finish my lunch.”

“But I’ve finished mine,” Eddie retorts, totally not whining, nope, nuh-uh. His burger and medium Mountain Dew had been nothing compared to Steve’s order of two bacon cheeseburgers, large fries, extra large Coke, and a chocolate milkshake, especially since Steve has saved almost all the fries to dip in said milkshake. “I’m bored, and you’re sitting in my living room looking like that—what am I supposed to do, sit on my hands?”

Steve smirks. “You could.” Popping several chocolate-dunked fries in his mouth, he adds around them, “The more you mess with me, the more I’m gonna end up dripping on your vest. Is that what you want?”

With a roll of his eyes, Eddie reaches over—bumping the cup again, which makes Steve snort in exasperated amusement—and pushes the pin-laden denim to either side of Steve’s chest. “There, problem solved.” 

(It’s not like milkshakes are harder to wash out than blood stains, but he doesn’t mention that out loud because Steve still tends to try and apologize for bleeding on it… As if blood stains aren’t metal as fuck.)

Steve scoffs, but there’s a gleam in his eyes. “Okay, but now what if…” And he very intentionally scoops way too much milkshake out with another cluster of fries, dripping all down his front in a not quite fast enough shove towards his mouth. 

Jesus, Eddie can feel his eyes dilate. He hasn’t even smoked today but he feels like a part of him is floating as he ducks automatically forward and, eyes sliding shut, laps the cool, creamy liquid from Steve’s chest hair and tantalizingly warm skin, and that’s… God, he thinks as he inhales through his nose, that’s his favorite smell ever. He licks again, lapping at Steve’s chest to get it all, but once he’s done he doesn’t want to pull away. Moves his mouth to one of Steve’s nipples instead and licks that too, bites it a little until it starts to perk up at his attention, cupping the side of that softening pec the more into it he gets. 

“Eds,” Steve sighs, hand coming up to cradle the back of Eddie’s head. Probably getting his hair greasy, but Eddie so doesn’t mind right now. He moans and guides Eddie to the other side of his chest so he can do the same to his other nipple. “Baby, yeah…”

Eddie sucks and then releases him with a wet pop. “You like that, big boy?”

“‘S good,” Steve confirms breathlessly. 

“You want more, sweetheart?”

The whine Steve lets out literally makes Eddie’s dick twitch it’s so slutty and desperate, Jesus H. Christ. “All of it, I want… everything.”

Everything, it turns out, means the rest of his fast food, a party-sized bag of chips from the pantry, Eddie’s mouth roving over his chest and neck, and Eddie’s fingers working him open while he eats. At least until he’s lubed and stretched and so full it’s a struggle to finish his chips; then he begs for a joint, too. 

“Easy sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, holding the joint against his lips as Steve greedily sucks, makes the tip flair as cherry red as his exposed cock. “There’s plenty, don’t have to rush it. You can have it all, baby, it’s all yours.”

The smile Steve gives him is loose and wreathed in smoke. His eyes are drooping and red like the quickly fading cherry of the joint, slow in his head. His body and breath move like syrup, sluggish but inexorable as he reaches for the chip bag again, bringing it close to his face where he’s splayed on the couch, movie completely forgotten in the background. Eddie is sitting at his hip, legs angled almost parallel to Steve so he can see him, ready to bring the joint or his drink to his mouth as needed. 

“I know,” Steve tells him, nearly whines. “But I miss it. I want it back.”

“Want what, baby, you want another hit? Want my fingers again?”

He shakes his head. “Nooo, I used to have…” Cramming another mouthful of chips past his lips, he rubs his free hand over his distended stomach. His touch drifts lower to the give below his navel, and he swallows. “Used to have a real belly. It felt good when my shirts got tight around it, I want that again.”

There’s something fragile and nervous in his eyes, beneath the high, as he says it out loud, but he doesn’t break away from Eddie’s gaze. He”s never mentioned it before, but Eddie has seen the basic shape of it for a while in the way Steve eats, and the way it’s echoed in how much Eddie likes watching it happen. 

He studies his boyfriend with his head slightly tilted to one side, the tip of his tongue tracing over his bottom lip. “Do you remember the first time we smoked together?”

Steve chews his next bite with a nod and an affirmative hum, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, and you chased me down with food in your hands. How much of that extra large pizza had you eaten, Stevie?”

Steve smiles up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “Almost all of it, ‘cept what I gave you.”

“Mm. I watched you eat the last two slices, and you looked…” Eddie bites his lip, reaches and helps guide the next chip to Steve’s mouth. “I thought about it later that night,” he admits. “You had those two slices folded together so you could eat both at the same time, and I wondered how much more you could take. What would’ve happened if I’d grabbed them from you and told you to open up, then shoved it in as far as it could go and more. And you were still taking regular bites, you know? Even though it was two slices, twice the food, and you looked so… happy, just chewing.”

Eyes drifting closed, Steve chews and lets the high and Eddie’s words wash over him. 

“I wondered how far your cheeks could bulge out,” Eddie continues, voice dipping lower and smooth like silk. Hand dipping back to Steve’s ass, legs still spread wide for him, and a single finger circling his slick hole—and they haven’t gone further than fingers yet, but he knows Steve is curious to try it. They’ve talked about it a few times, but it’s starting to feel like tonight’s the night with how Steve bears down on his every touch. “How much would fit before you struggled to close your lips around one huge, impossible bite. I fucked my hand thinking about you swallowing, baby.”

Steve moans and brings the chip bag up, tipping the crumbs into his red and waiting mouth. Breathing heavily through his nose as he reaches capacity, maxes it out, gasps out a slur of jumbled words as he goes past it into a zone he hadn’t even realize existed… and that’s when Eddie shoves his own pants and boxers down to replace the teasing tip of his finger with the head of his dick. 

“Okay, baby?” Eddie pants. He wants nothing more than to slide inside, is actually trembling where he’s perched on the couch from having to restrain himself. 

“Full,” Steve gasps, eyes still closed and hands reaching to feel tenderly over taut skin. “So… Oooh my god…”

Eddie wants to whimper at the display. “Too much?”

“No!” He reaches out blindly with one hand and finds Eddie’s bony hip, chip bag still dangling off the edge of the couch from the other. “Need you, need it, please—”

So Eddie gives him what he’s begging for, filling Steve up that last little bit with one languid slide that makes them both moan. 

He comes with his tongue in Steve’s mouth, sucking on it, rolling his hips slow but steady so as not to jostle Steve’s stuffed stomach too much and it’s good, it’s so fucking good, better than he’d ever dreamed. And once he’s filled him up, Steve’s eyes roll back as he shakes apart, spurting rope after rope of cum between them. Most of it lands on his belly, and without a second thought Eddie pulls out so he can scoot down and lick Steve as clean as he had of milkshake at the start. 

When he finally lifts his gaze, it’s to find Steve staring down at him, dazed and still panting with an open mouth. 

“Was that too much?” Eddie asks, suddenly self-conscious. 

“Nnn.” He shakes his head, eyes unfocused, and slurs out, “So good. ‘Sjust a lot. New. Di’nt know I could… could do that, fuck.” 

He could mean taking it up the ass, but Eddie knows better. 

With the way Steve’s hands absently rove over the start of softness at his waist and his packed-solid gut, cradling it as though it’s a source of excruciating bliss, Eddie knows it’s all of it. 

Everything, like Steve had said earlier. 

If there’s a spell out there that can help make all of Steve’s dreams come true, Eddie doesn’t know it. But there’s no need, not when all they need is right here at their fingertips, in the way they live and breathe and love. Luck has nothing to do with it; this sweet, overflowing happiness has always been in their grasp. 

And it always will be.

Tag list:

@hotluncheddie @lawrencebshoggoth @sofadofax @hickeysgodcomplex @oatmilk-vampire

@wheneverfeasible @hamiltonswiftie @grtwdsmwhr @yesdangerpls @theseaofdespair

@8em-em-em8 @anaibis @connected-dots @zombiethingy

[wh0lemilk0vich]

okay so this one has been bouncing around in my head. transfemme!stevie who starts estrogen and her weight redistribution coupled with a bit of happy relationship weight leaves her with no concept of women’s clothing sizing and what actually fits her, especially because it’s so variable by brand. she gets so frustrated in the dressing room when the cute jeans she picked up in medium and large won’t pull beyond her plump thighs, or when certain dress material doesn’t have any give. eddie on the other hand loves to watch the way his favorite girl’s body is changing. eventually, she stops caring as much and most of her clothes fit tightly on her curves, and eddie often finds himself on his knees sucking stevie off when she gets home because of how exquisite she looks in her new clothes. the lingerie is even better because it doesn’t have to look presentable, so her new boobs and fluffy hips look wonderful when they’re adorned with lacey teddies or red thongs. -🫑

🫑anon!!! My heart 🥰🥰🥰🥰

This is so cute and precious to me. I'm such a transfem Stevie truther and this is just soooo good. I can see them dating from pre-transition and then Steve comes out and Eddie is so supportive (Bi/Pan Eddie 🥰), so excited to get to call his Stevie his lady, princess, babydoll, sugar. And Eddie's always been the gift giving/physical touch type, it's just that the gifts of his love language typically tend to be food. Steve's favorite snacks, extra helpings here and there, a sonic run when he's had a bad day.

And like I soooo saw exactly the scene you were describing. Steve's body starts softening, weight distributing to her chest (thanks titty Skittles) and, low in her belly, her ass, hips, thighs; growing beautifully plump and pear shaped. And she's finally ready to start feminizing her wardrobe more. She's been growing out her hair, Robin and Nancy have been helping her with make-up. But she doesn't understand any of the sizing and they couldn't be there to help, and she's too afraid to ask any of the department store staff for help. So when none of the jeans she picked out fit up her thighs, or over her ass, and the dress that does fit is tight and conforms to all of her curves, her flaring hips, and outlines her belly, and she nearly melts down in the changing room. But Eddie comes in and just holds her and tells her how beautiful she is, and looks for some stretchier stuff, grabs a couple higher numbers for now to see how they work. And Stevie has calmed down and is about to undress out of the dress when Eddie's suddenly hugging her from behind, love in his eyes looking at her in the mirror, and he drags his big hands along her sides, emphasizing her figure before rubbing and cupping that soft lower swell that the velvet dress displays prominently saying "Fuck me running, Stevie. This is the best part of dresses" so earnest and aroused, his hot breath in her ear. She can feel him, hard, behind her and looks at herself through his eyes and it's just 🥰🥰🥰.

He can't help himself when they get home, he wants a fashion show, to see her in everything... especially the new stuff they got from Victoria's secret. Like the lacey black cheeky tangas and the starter bralettes and push-ups since Stevie's been getting so busty.

Eddie can't help himself, he gets her out of the lacey bra and sucks her tits, feeling up her ass (giving it a sharp slap to hear her moan), her hips, her gorgeous belly, kissing down her body, biting into that buttery soft roll, before settling his curly maned head between her creamy warm thighs, smacking a loud kiss to her inner thigh, before sucking her off like a hoover.

Stevie has her fingers buried in Eddie's hair, grabbing, and grounding herself on his expert mouth work, his ridiculously talented tongue. She knows she's squeezing her thighs a bit hard, but he's not complaining and he just gives herself over to feeling sexy, beautiful, loved. Because Eddie loves everything about her.

Leads to transfem!chubby!Stevie diner au

[iwriteweightgainbullshit]

chubby steve harrington makes me go insane especially when it’s steddie

Hey anon!

You and me both.

Steve relaxing after Vecna and gaining a few pounds. Being all insecure at first and hiding from Eddie.

Eddie confronting him about this and telling him he likes it.

From there it all changes...

Eddie will feed Steve in bed while telling him how beautiful he is.

Steve becoming all chubby and cuddly, Eddie's perfect princess.

What do you think anon?

Thanks for leaving an ask btw <3

[hotluncheddie]

denny’s line cook eddie who always works the weekend night shifts. they start late enough to still let him still play gigs, awake and wired and needing something to fill his hands. every week though, he falls more and more in love with a boy that comes in late every saturday night. so late it’s almost morning.

he’s usually giggly and tipsy and flush, always sitting in the same booth with the same girl (maybe the coolest girl eddie’s ever seen). he always orders the same plate of pancakes and bacon and always closes his eyes so sweetly around his first bite. like he’d been thinking about it all night, like he couldn’t wait, like he’s starving.

eddie watches him, from his little window at the pass, watches him enjoy the food eddie made him. always in whatever club outfit he’d decided on that week, sometimes mesh shirts that show of the bit of softness at his middle. or with a hanky around his neck like a cowboy. or with glitter on his cheeks and shorts cut so high eddie’s left breathless over being able to see the squish of his thighs, the curve of his ass. sometimes though, it’s just a polo and jeans, and thats one of eddie’s favourites, it’s when he looked most comfortable.

every saturday eddie watches him have his fill, sit back in the booth and sigh. lay a hand on his stomach lightly, with delicate fingers and a wide palm. and eddie falls more in love.

he always watches the two leave, now quiet and sleepy after winding down for the night, and eddie sighs sadly every time, when he hears the bell tinkle and signal their exit.

he doesn’t even know his name.

steve 🥞

final <3

(this was gonna be a little thing for @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx 5+1 but then i decided it should just go here <;3 @pearynice & @scoops-aboy86 think u might like it too <3)

[dreamsteddie]

I can't believe I slept on this response. You are so right and you should say it.

I truly believe in my heart of hearts that when Steve gets past like...25 years old he puts on a good amount of weight, gives up on contacts, and becomes the thick, hairy man he was always meant to be.

And he fucking loves it.

In fact, I think when someone points out the way his body has changed he gives them the nastiest, most confused stink eye and basically says "and what about it?"

Steve actually becomes even more confident than before because not only does he love the new look, but the guy he's been almost-something with for the last five years can't seem to get enough of him. That first summer of Steve's new body after a productive winter, Steve shows up to the first group swim day with shorts just this side of too tight, tortoiseshell glasses, and a hearty chest covered in hair and Eddie very promptly trips on nothing and stays there on the ground for a full 7 minutes coming to terms with Steve's unprecedented levels of hotness.

[steviewashere]

I'm about to respond to AO3 comments, now that I'm migraine free and have a clear head. But I just need to share this soul warming comment I received. (Blurring username just in case, but this is not a negative thing at all)

And if you didn't read this fic, which is totally absolutely fine, I wrote a chubby Steve Harrington work. Where he's got this negative mindset towards being bigger because of past comments made by his mom (something I dealt with via my grandmother for years and ongoing). And then he makes a comment about his body in front of Eddie and Eddie's put off by it because he thinks Steve's literally beautiful (chubby chaser Eddie, my beloved). And they get all sappy with each other and Steve realizes he can be at peace and not worry with Eddie. And so on and so forth (they get together and it's cute).

But I wrote this initially to make myself feel good about my body because I had a moment the other day. Where I saw a photo of myself and literally said out loud in front of my stepdad, "Is that what I look like, god..." and then he gave me the saddest eyes I've ever received from a grown adult. So I just needed a space to work out that comment and maybe hear something nice about a body like mine (self-indulgent fic, also my beloved).

Anyway.

Don't let anybody ever tell you that your writing isn't impactful or doesn't make a difference or that it's stupid. You never know who needs it. And this comment alone has made me extremely proud of what I've done.

Like I legitimately read this a minute after it came in and cried.

Thank you to this user and everybody else who's commented on this fic, it really truly means something. Love y'all. <3

If you'd like to read this work, here's the link on Tumblr and here's the link on AO3

[scoops-aboy86]

Ahoy, Matey!

This is basically a fandom wg kink blog. Posts along those lines will be tagged #wg steddie (or "wg [pairing]" in general) so that, in the spirit of "don't like don't read," it's just as easy to block as it is to follow.

😊 Curate your own experience as needed on the internet's premier curate-your-own-experience website. 😊 🔞

I do have a permanent tag list for when I post fic. If you would like to be added to that (or a tag list for a specific ongoing story), let me know in a comment, hashtag, or message.

Other tags:

#chubby eddie munson and #chubby steve harrington - because I swing both ways 😜 and these are kind of catch-alls regardless of weight (i.e. chubby vs fat), since they seem to be the most popular tags

#scoops words - all of my writing

#ask - replies to asks, I'm always open to rambling about my brainrot!

#scoops scoop - about me

Fic list below the cut!

Steddie Microfics:

March prompt 'pin' and standalone B side (both on ao3)

March bonus round prompt 'birthday' (also on ao3)

April prompt 'fool' (on ao3)

May prompt 'top' (on ao3)

June prompt ‘stuff’ (on ao3)

July prompt ‘one’ (on ao3)

August prompt 'plug' (on ao3)

September prompt ‘shower’ (on ao3)

October prompt ‘dress’ (on ao3)

November prompt ‘guard’ (on ao3)

Chaptered Fics:

do not unwrap fic - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (on ao3)

window fic - 1, 2 (on ao3)

love spell no go au (on ao3)

not dating - 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 (on ao3)

Steddie Week 2024 (not wg related):

july 1: secret admirer (entire work on ao3, now complete)

july 2: by the heart, pt 2 of secret admirer

july 3: see you everywhere, pt 3 of secret admirer

july 4: just keeping life & soul together, pt 4 of secret admirer

july 5: realize you're living, pt 5 of secret admirer

july 6: crushing, pt 6 of secret admirer

july 7: if you were serious, pt 7 of secret admirer

i want to, part 8 of secret admirer

break free, part 9 of secret admirer

epilogue of secret admirer

September 2024 (a mix of Steddie's Summer Back to School Bash, Smutty Steddie September, and Soft Steddie September prompt fills)

sep 1: some turbulence ahead (on ao3)

sep 2: last party of the summer (on ao3)

sep 3: hot & heavy (on ao3)

sep 4: your smile is my favorite (on ao3)

sep 5:

Other Fics:

witness protection wg au, cowritten with @hotluncheddie

office wg au, cowritten with @hotluncheddie (on ao3)

glory days, glory nights fic (on ao3)

cruise wg au(s) (the 7k one is also on ao3)

steve's grown out of everything but his sweatpants (on ao3)

wg milk fic, cowritten with @hotluncheddie

love language (on ao3)

the bet (on ao3)

all about the bounce in my step pt 1, pt 2, pt 3 in progress (on ao3)

kitchen pig (on ao3)

the funnel (on ao3)

rockstar decades (on ao3)

stuckage prompt (chubby eddie one on ao3, chubby steve one on ao3)

unforgettable findings (on ao3)

entwined, growing into us (on ao3)

wear it like a collar, like a ring, like a lock (and toss the key) (on ao3)

[neverthebabysitter]

I love Steve has bad parents as much as the next person AND i eat that shit up in every fic i read, but, but– i saw a tiktok with those "what creature is watching you depending on your month" slideshows, so now i have the image of Steve having some shadow parents stuck in my head.

Therefore, now i had to add that to him having bad human parents but at the same time some shy, protective and loving shadow parents.

He doesn’t consider the Harringtons his parents anymore; excuse me, his parents are those shadows that seem to stare at your soul with their bright, pure white eyes and none existent characteristic features apart from their silhouettes. Thank you very much.

He loves them.

So every time someone asks Steve about his parents, he has to make mental gymnastics about if it's OK to talk about the shadow ones or if it's a situation where he has to lie through his teeth about the biological ones.

Steve is just happy to have someone who cares about him and goes to see his games and recitals (because you can pray Steve plays the piano away over my cold death hands) even when no one apart from him (and a few unlucky ones– Eddie, i'm looking at you) notice them.

I wonder how that might work; the party must have their own theories about Steve's parents; none of them it's about them being literal shadow creatures/ entities, though.

I think most of them think they are neglectful; no, they’re not; you just can’t see them because they don't want Steve's friends to freak out.

After the fight with Billy, Steve needs someone to wake him up and take care of him for a bit; he said his parents would do it, but every time someone goes to check on him, he's alone. And Hopper gets suspicious because he doesn’t remember the last time he saw the Harringtons.

Also, Billy starts having so much bad luck and can not stop seeing these shadow figures everywhere; it's probably just his imagination and a bunch of coincidences.

Why is Steve so calm about monsters? It has nothing to do with his parents being literal shadow creatures, ofc. And if in the middle of fighting demodogs he got some help, nobody noticed it.

I just– imagine the party's reaction when they found out? Gold.

Robin is the first to meet them, ofc, following the whole party and then Eddie realizing that "THEY WERE YOUR PARENTS????" When he processed enough the fact that yes, he wasn't seeing things in the corner of every basketball game he went to stare at Steve.

[kassifieddocuments2]

@your-confused-friend you win a free [bonus content] actually.

werebear steve who. yknow. gains bear tendencies. it's mid-summer and Bear Brain™ tells him to Eat For The Big Sleep (even though he Does Not hibernate because he's still a Person). he's even softer. even tummier. he's sleepy as hell all of winter. his appetite does a bear thing and lowers then too. <- this sparks Concern in those who Don't Know. like eddie. who thinks he's feeling bad about not being in shape or something. but steve thinks it's a great fuck you to anyone who thought his worth was in his looks (stupid ass beauty standards). he's still got a good amount of muscle underneath anyway so it's not like he's weaker now. he swims in the river looking for salmon or smth every month. unless it's winter. then he sleeps through the full moon.

okay but eddie who's convinced steve's a werewolf and steve who finds it absolutely hilarious because he's like. a werebear or something.

[wh0lemilk0vich]

I can't stop thinking about that GORGEOUS chubby transfem!Steve post so I bring you: transfem!Stevie who starts working as a waitress around the same time she starts hrt and blames most of the weight gain/distribution on hrt and not all the comped entrees line chef!Eddie makes for her. Pls see my vision I don't have the motivation to write the whole thing

Continued from Transfem-Chubby!Steve Post

Ok first of all I'm thinking of Stevie is a cute little Robin's egg blue uniform with an apron and I'm drooling and crying it's so cute.

I'm so weak and crying for line cook Eddie too. He'd be sprung from day one, obsessed with Stevie! (And like I don't want to dwell on it because passing is not something I focus too much on, but Eddie seeing a visibly queer early transfem Stevie he'd just get it and be so attracted to Stevie as a woman)

Maybe let's consider disowned trans girl Stevie so happy to have a job, and Eddie who is like how can I keep this poor girl fed, very good Appalachian boy I ain't got much but what I have I share. Eddie messes up orders. He tries not to be too obvious about it. Includes onions when he shouldn't, a bit too much salt, slightly overcooked... accidental double portion...all to make sure Stevie is eating.

Then on top of that, he comps her meals on company time. He knows how to make it work. And it doesn't take too long for him to realize he's given himself a front row seat to the pawg-ening of Stevie Harrington. Like filling out and redistributing weight in all the right places. That cute little skirted uniform is getting tight, she's really starting to test it's limits. Her boobies look so cute pushing out of the slightly deep cut neckline. Eddie gets blushy and tries to look away when her ass and belly start being harder to cover with the dress, like just at little moments, like accidentally showing when she bends over.

And stevie is like at least loving the softening and filling out, but can't believe hrt has really plumped her up this much. She's really not complaining. There are worse things. But for some reason she never considers that it could be the handful of mistake orders, on top of comped meals that Eddie is treating her too each week.

God Eddie would be so weak for her, absolute simp vibes. I would love more prompts for this idea, I feel like I could turn this into a fic...

[iwriteweightgainbullshit]

Okay okay, I know I said this before but I fr want to start writing again, but just at a slow tempo. Not hurry anything yk? So anyways. I mostly write weight gain stories but if anyone would like anything else hit me up.

Please send me requests :)

What you can request:

-Marvel (pretty much every character, but I mostly write bucky and Steve)

-stranger things (only male)

-star wars (obi-wan, anakin (or darth vader) and padme)

-brookyln nine nine (all characters)

-the office (all characters)

-panic! At the disco

-twenty one pilots

-knives out (benoit blanc, Marta and Benoit's boyfriend who's name I cant think of for a sec)

-Bo Burnham

If you want anything that's not on the list just ask :)

I am okay with writing about pretty much every kink but some things I'd like to discuss first.

That's all for now :)

[solarmorrigan]

[cw: weight loss, body image issues/body dysmorphia]

Consider: Steve whose migraines become unmanageable for a while, or who falls into a harsh depressive episode after everything with Vecna, or who experiences reduced mobility or chronic pain due to the many varied injuries he's picked up over the years, or any combination of the above

Steve who loses his appetite and who isn't able to keep up with the workout routine he used to have and who loses weight and loses muscle mass and fucking hates it

He's always been on the lean side, but he hasn't been skinny since probably eighth grade, when he was still gawky and growing into his frame. But this is different; this isn't awkward adolescence, something he'll grow out of, this is the sight of his ribs through his skin and his hipbones jutting out and his wrists getting too skinny for his watch. This is feeling cold all the time and struggling to lift things he used to be able to pick up without much trouble

(It's fear, too. Not just a fear that he'll never get back to where he used to be, but fear that something will happen and he'll be too weak to stop it. Too weak to help. Too weak to protect anyone the way he should)

There are days he can't quite stand looking at himself; can't stand the sight of baggy clothes that used to fit perfectly, can't stand looking at tired eyes staring out of the sharpened angles of his face. He feels insubstantial this way. Like anyone could look right past him - right through him

Eddie never does, though. He never treats Steve differently, except to worry about his health - but never what he looks like. He hugs Steve as tightly as before, kisses him just as hard as before, whistles at him when he catches Steve in the middle of dressing, just like before. Like he isn't disappointed that Steve doesn't look good anymore, like he isn't even bothered

He'll hold Steve, and pull him close on bad days, and he'll let Steve be upset, but he'll never stand for Steve speaking badly about himself. He'll always push back, sometimes gently, sometimes loudly, always reminding Steve that he loves him, and what he looks like is a part of that. Reminding him that Eddie loves it all

"But you can gain it back, if you want to. When you're doing better," Eddie tells him

"What if I'm never doing better? What if I can never get back to where I was?" Steve demands. "What if this is just my body now?"

"Then it is." Eddie kisses his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. "Then I'll help you learn how to love it as much as you did before. As much as I still do."

And he says it so openly, so honestly, that even on bad days, Steve thinks that maybe - maybe he could be okay