[mascarponedaydreams]

Masterlist

❤︎ ― Stories

⤷ Sleep Eaters Anonymous (Billy WG - Billy/Steve/Eddie) (A03) ⤷ Eddie the Food Vlogger (Eddie WG - Steddie) (A03) ⤷ New Habits (Eddie WG - Steddie) (A03) ⤷ Chocolate Box (Eddie WG - Steddie) (A03)

❤︎ ― Daydreams

⤷ Series of drabbles/daydreams...

❤︎ ― A03

⤷ Find me on A03..

❤︎ ― Ko-fi

⤷Buy me a coffee...

[scoops-aboy86]

Eddie getting too high with Steve for his own good—but it’s not his fault, his weed tolerance went way down while he was recovering from the bats and stopped all kinds of smoking because coughing hurt too much. But he smokes with Steve, and he’s kind of in love with Steve so with his inhibitions lowered he gets horny and begs Steve to fill him up.

Now, by that Eddie means “please fuck me,” but Steve, who gets the munchies when high, just feeds him. A lot. A lot a lot. And inevitably, the morning after this happens Eddie’s memories are kinda hazy and he remembers wanting to preposition Steve, but not that he actually did.

But he keeps getting high with Steve and it keeps happening. His brain is starting to connect being horny with being fed. His belly is starting to look noticeable even under his (formerly) loose band tees, and his jeans are getting harder to pull up and button.

Steve is starting to bring him snacks just whenever now, and Eddie can’t help but be charmed by it—pretty boy bringing him treats, what’s a lonely hay guy to do but swoon a little. Steve asks if he wants to hang out at the mall a town or two over sometime, and he looks so pleased when Eddie accepts. Seems innocuous enough. Right up until Steve follows Eddie into the dressing room and kisses him against the mirror upon getting to see just how tight and straining Eddie’s jeans are around his waist, hands roving to feel every inch of him that Steve has helped grow, words barely louder than a breath in this technically public space as he admits how much he’s been thinking about Eddie’s mouth and all the other ways he could fill him as requested.

Once Steve has paid for Eddie’s new pants, he takes him to the food court… and then takes him in the back of Eddie’s van. Tenderly, to match how Eddie’s over-stuffed belly feels. Cooing and caressing and kissing everywhere he can reach, clearly relishing every moan regardless of whether it’s due to how he or all that food is shifting inside Eddie. Moaning himself about how good Eddie is for him, how soft and sweet, how needy.

Which, Eddie thinks once they’re officially boyfriends and it’s been weeks of Steve being all over him every second they’re alone and super attentive and smiley even when they’re not, is really just the pot calling the kettle black, but whatever. He likes it too.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed): @iridescentrylandgrace @wheneverfeasible @yesdangerpls @steviewashere @motherofpirates

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@sofadofax @th30ra3k3n @mrsjellymunson @hehimmommy @stevesscoops

@a-drop-of-magic

[scoops-aboy86]

Eddie gaining weight because Steve’s had enough head trauma that sometimes he blanks on a meal or snack or dessert he just served Eddie and makes him an extra one.

[hjbender]

The Four Discoursemen

[mascarponedaydreams]

I wanna write some new steddie wg but my brain is mush ;(

[leniialu5]

Good morning ☀️

(I realized I draw Steve pretty often in his “morning routine”)

[basiatlu]

Hear No, Speak No, See No Evil.... or at least they try to.

[matchingbatbites]

Robin buys a vintage lamp off Marketplace, and the seller, Chrissy, says that she's sending her friend Eddie to deliver it. This instantly makes Robin too nervous to go pick it up herself, so naturally, she sends Steve to collect it.

Steve returns home after two hours looking like a hot mess, hair all fucked up and shirt totally wrinkled. Robin is freaking out, asking what took so long, why hasn't he been answering his phone, and Steve just shrugs and says "Sorry, the guy who dropped off the lamp was hot. We fooled around in the back of his van and we're going out this weekend."

He hands Robin the lamp as she stands there, completely baffled, and says "Could have been you if you and Chrissy weren't scaredy-cats," before heading off to his room.

[teeteatess]

[the-inspector-jones]

Eddie's been flirting with Steve for so many months that he sometimes forgets why he started. It couldn't have just been about that little furrowed spot between his eyebrows, or the exasperated half-laugh he often let's out before he can reign it in. There has to have been a better reason. But, on moments like today, where Steve is easy and calm, langurous at the bar, he honestly doesn't remember. Which is his own fault. He probably should have been more on guard.

"Can you grab another beer for my boyfriend too, please?"

And Eddie can't have heard that right. "Wait. S'cuse me?"

"What? Oh. Sorry. Partner?...lover? I guess we can decide on titles later."

"You could have just asked me to stop tessing you, man. No need to be a dick."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I should have asked what you wanted to be called."

"What are you fucking talking about, Harrington?

"You know. Labels. Now that we're dating. It's all good, I'm not attached to a specific word."

Eddie's mouth blurts, "We're dating?" without permission.

Steve looks at him like he's lost his mind. "What are you talking about, Munson? We've been out like fifteen times! Or. Sorry, is this some sort of plot for me to like...ask you? I just assumed because you kept coming out with...wait, I'm seeing where I went wrong here. Sorry. I guess we should have talked."

"Talk about what! What dates??"

He doesn't mean to yell, but he's spinning on error codes now and he needs the joke to end. And soon.

"What do you mean? We went to the movies on the weekend! We've driven to Indie for comic books twice. We went to the baseball game just last week."

"Steve you're just listing times we've been alone! We're alone all the time. The kids are busy. We went grocery shopping yesterday."

He shrugged, shaking his head at the apparently obvious. "Yeah. I know? That was a great date."

Eddie can't breathe. He's afraid to let the feeling in. But he's betrayed, as always, by his own goddammed mouth. "You've never even like...kissed me. Or. Anything. Do you even like me?"

And. Oh. No. Now Steve looks actually hurt. He wants to backpeddle.

"I thought you just wanted to take things slow. I hug you all the time."

"You hug everyone!"

"I do not—Well. Okay. Um. Yeah. Maybe I do. But like! Not like I hug you. Plus, I compliment you lots!"

"You say shit like 'nice shirt' and 'hey. Curly hair'."

"Yeah! Exactly!"

Steve sounds desperate now and he's moving in, leaning close in the dim light, apparently eyeing Eddie for a head injury or something.

"Am I dead? Did I...I died, right? What is happening right now—What are you doing!"

"Oh. I'm gonna kiss you."

"Not here! Oh my god!"

"Why not!" Steve throws his hands up and steps in again. Exasperated but way too close for it.

"I'm like...ah. You've got me all...I'm...I ate pickles!"

"I like pickles. Eddie—"

"Jesus. My. Christ, Harrington. I only found out we were dating like five seconds ago. Give a guy a moment."

And Steve's face finally breaks open. Eddie waits for the punchline to slap him in ghe face. Waits for the 'gotcha' and the lecture about toying with people's emotions. But instead, Steve steps the last step forward and winds Eddie's hair around his hand, pulls gently.

"Nah," he whispers, leaning in. "You can have a moment after you start believing me. After I kiss you. Cuz, yeah. I like you, you idiot. Now tell the nice bartender you're my boyfriend so we can find a dark booth to make out in."

He kisses Eddie, sure and quick. It's not much of a first kiss, but he's honestly grateful. He's already running out of the oxygen necessary for the continued use of his lungs.

"I'm the boyfriend," he squeaks at the bar, grabbing both bottles with one hand, and Steve's arm with the other, before marching away.

"Tab," his apparent boyfriend shouts back.

Fucking Harrington.

[anngsty-things]

Steve DIDN'T get a girlfriend in the epilogue.

Steve DIDN'T find his true love, someone to settle with.

Steve, frankly, DIDN'T even try looking.

But,

Steve DID get a place in Forest Hills.

Steve DID get a van for travelling around.

Steve DID stay at the same highschool where Hellfire used to be held, where Eddie would laugh and jump on the tables during lunch break.

Steve DID spend time with Dustin and his other nuggets, checking up on them whenever he could.

---

Steve, however, didn't get a happy ending. Because his happy ending was Eddie, and Steve was left to look for him in all the little things.

[anaquariusfox]

Don't look at me. So embarrassing, dude...

[allsteddie]

Steddie where Steve's dad hears about his son's weird codependent friendship with Al Munson's boy and thinks the two of them have been fooling around in secret. The man gets pissed.

He drives back home and demands Steve break things off with the Munson kid.

Steve gets pissed.

"I'm not gonna break things off, I love him!!" Steve yells before he stomps out through the door and drives away without looking back.

A few minutes later he's at the Munson's. Steve doesn't even bother with knocking, Wayne's more than used to his presence by now, so he just opens the door and go straight to Eddie's room.

"My dad thinks we are dating and demanded that I break things off with you, but I refused and told him I loved you. Do you wanna date me just to piss him off?"

Eddie, who had been stuffing his face with chips as he read some comics in his bed, shrugs. "Do I get to touch your tits?"

"They are not tits!"

"Do I get to touch them anyway?"

"I guess that's reasonable dating behavior, so yes."

"Okay." Eddie puts down the comic book and wipes his hands on his pants. "Now take off your shirt and come here."

[scoops-aboy86]

Would love to see more chubby female Steve representation 🥰

Yes! I don't know where this came from, inspiration just struck the other day and now here's some sapphic Steddie. Eddie starts putting a little something extra in one of her regular's food, but spoiled trust fund girl Stevie takes to the extra cravings like a fish to water.

(Oh balls, can anyone suggest a title for this so I can post it on ao3? I got nothin.)

Eddie has her Munson Doctrine, a code of conduct if you will—but goddammit, sometimes rules need to be broken. Which is why she sneaks the appetite stimulants into the greasy spoon diner where she waits tables and starts dosing the sugar free Coke and sad little salad of a particularly rail-thin socialite housewife that comes in once a week like clockwork. The woman needs to be liberated from the shackles of diet culture.

… Almost as much as Eddie also wants to liberate those tits from their bra prison with her teeth, but that’s not the point.

It’s just a little, handful-of-times thing. A practical joke slash fantasy slash metaphorical revenge against all these bitches who gave her shit in high school slash… pity. The ring on that woman’s finger is absurdly huge, marking her as some man’s trophy more than an actual partner. Eddie practically dances her way back to the kitchen the first time she asks for something other than a boring-ass salad.

But the rest is, well… unexpected.

The woman starts coming in a little more often than her previous once a week. She works her way through all the “healthier” options on the menu, but then instead of cycling back through them she keeps exploring, eventually settling on the triple decker extravaganza waffles with a side of bacon and house-made sausage as her favorite. She starts asking to be seated at booths in Eddie’s section every time, claiming the food tastes better there. She starts filling out her sweaters and pencil skirts in a way that Eddie can’t help staring at and fantasizing about later; and again when she sizes up the sweaters and switches to stretchy slacks.

By the time she starts coming in every day, Eddie isn’t even adding the appetite stimulant anymore. And yet, the woman still orders two of her usual and asks her to “call me Stevie, I see you more often than my so-called friends these days.”

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry,” Eddie stammers, suddenly caught up in a sinking feeling of being an asshole. Of course a princess like this would have skinny bitch friends, and Eddie’s ‘harmless’ prank has cost her her entire social life. And Stevie is… definitely no longer skinny. Her hips have widened, her belly has bubbled out into the perfect shelf for her growing tits, there’s extra thickness in her arms and, god those thighs—Eddie’s nighttime fantasies are starting to get out of control, starting to seep into her breaks that she now habitually takes in the back of her van, no matter how stifling it is, for the freedom to hike up her uniform apron and jam a hand down her pants and go to town three, maybe four times before she has to clock back in. Stevie has perfect skin and Eddie just wants to nip at the soft part of her neck that’s turning into a second chin.

“I’m not,” Stevie replies matter-of-factly, and it takes Eddie a second to remember what she’s replying to. “They’re the ones who decided I’m too fat, not me. Now, about my side on the second Extravaganza… Can I make that an ice cream sundae? I’m always craving one by the time I get home from here, maybe if I just get one I won’t have to stop for more fudge and sprinkles after this.”

Eddie feels downright lightheaded as she drizzles an entire generous cup of fudge on top of the largest sundae they offer. She watches from the kitchen and on her way back from other tables while Stevie demolishes that first—before the ice cream can melt, obviously—and goes on to pick up an alarming amount of speed while shoveling down the rest of her meal. Meals, plural. So focused on eating that she has bacon grease glistening on her chin for a good ten minutes before bothering to swipe halfheartedly at it with a napkin. Dishes are rattling in Eddie’s hands as she carries them to and fro, watching the entire wanton show.

And Stevie tips like a crazy person, like a rich bitch who actually doesn’t care about hoarding what is most likely her husband’s fortune to herself. She draws a little heart over the I in her signature on the check, every time. It’s enough to make Eddie’s sordid daydreams start to take a dangerous turn into starting to yearn for it to mean something.

Then, it happens.

Stevie is seated at her usual booth, orders her now typical meal of two entrees, several sides, and at least one appetizer. She’d come in moving a little differently than usual, Eddie had thought—more like how she moves when she leaves, a little slow as though most of her attention is on her full belly. But who can blame her, because that belly is perfect, a little bigger and wider every time Eddie sees it these days, and fuck if that doesn’t flood her mouth with saliva and her head with what Stevie might look like bouncing on her strap. If it weren’t tucked away neatly in those expensive but tight outfits Eddie is pretty sure it would bounce against her perfectly plush and bitable thighs that Eddie yearns to be smothered between…

Which is what she’s thinking when she brings Stevie’s credit card (matte black and embossed with Stephanie R. Hagan) and last minute order of pancakes to go, and witnesses Stevie’s first attempts to exit the booth. And subsequent attempts while trying to suck in, which makes approximately zero difference. Stevie’s rounded face starts to go pink, with exertion and possibly embarrassment, but there’s no trace of shyness in her voice when she looks to Eddie and says, “I think I’m going to need a hand.” Just a soft little smile, and something in her pretty hazel eyes that Eddie doesn’t know how to read.

Eddie, of course, gives two hands to help her slide out of the booth. When she gets to the end of the bench Stevie pauses and then slowly eases herself around to face outwards, bracing both legs to either side of her stuffed-taut belly. She pauses again and puts a hand over her stomach, as if feeling experimentally for any extra room she might have left—Eddie nearly blacks out with the force of a daydream where she decides she’s not full enough yet and opens the boxed short-stack while still there at the table.

Instead, and somehow even worse for Eddie’s composure, she gives her stomach a pat and runs her hand down the full curve of the gut that all the greasy diner food has given her, continuing to test it for give the whole way. It only starts jiggling again near the very bottom, where today’s blouse is tragically still covering everything because god forbid the woman have a wardrobe malfunction where Eddie can enjoy it, or whatever—fuck. Eddie might not be getting enough blood to her brain to think properly right now, her entire cunt feels like it’s throbbing.

“Do I have to sit at a booth for you to be my waitress?” Stevie asks thoughtfully, attention still on where her fingers are pressing shallow divots the give of her lower belly.

“I’ll wait on you anywhere,” Eddie blurts out, zero brain to mouth filter, and feels her face heat as Stevie’s eyes snap up to meet hers.

After a charged moment where Eddie feels like she’s been flash frozen in molten carbonite, Stevie licks her lips and says slowly, “Well, lucky me. I’ll take a table next time.”

~

Because Stevie Hagan, nee Harrington, isn’t spending her husband’s money, actually. She only married Tommy so she could get into her extremely sizable trust fund, and while at first she found him fun in a tolerable way he’s been getting on her nerves more and more in the short handful of years they’ve been married. But if she leaves or is caught cheating on him she’d have to pay alimony, and she’d rather not, thanks.

So when she suddenly started putting on weight and Tommy started very noticeably losing interest in her because of it, making snide little comments about her snacking habits and how her clothes looked on her new curves, Stevie had an idea. She didn’t mind the weight—hadn’t noticed it until Tommy started pointing it out actually—and in fact not having him pawing at her all the time gives her the inspiration for a few new vibrating toys and some self-exploration. All she has to do is eat and eventually Tommy will stray far enough to started fucking around, and then she’ll get proof, divorce his ass, and live happily ever after.

Being unexplainably hungry more often isn’t something she has to give into; she chooses to lean into it, and the more she does the better she feels. It probably has something to do with the fact that she’s masturbating like crazy, meaning she’s coming a lot more than when it was just Tommy between her legs, but that’s just semantics—the point is Stevie is having a blast and she’s not the kind of person who likes being told she can’t have what she wants. She’s hungriest after virtually every visit to her favorite dinner, but gets into the habit of grazing near-constantly even on the days she doesn’t go. Whenever her clothes start to get tight right before needing to size up again, she feels a rush of victory; whenever Tommy looks at her now it’s with a scowl.

Her friends’ casually snide remarks just piss her off, because she’s having fun and her health is fine. Who are they to try and imply that she should stop enjoying herself? She stops going to lunch with them and goes to her favorite diner on those days instead, not bothering to inform Tommy that she’s told her friends to go fuck themselves because why would she? It’s none of his business, and he never liked any of them to begin with. The diner is far more reliable than any of those flakes anyway, and one of the waitstaff in particular always seems to be around when the food tastes its best; Stevie develops a (Pavlovian) superstition about it and always asks to be sat in that woman’s section, watching her flit nimbly around with dishes full of good food and laugh along with the other patrons, sometimes in a fake way that Stevie has been trained her whole life to recognize but sometimes delightfully genuine.

Stevie has also known she’s bisexual since college, when a woman or two had caught her eye and imagination. But gay marriage hadn’t been legal yet at the time, and she’d been so focused on needing to marry to get the trust fund that she’d never chased the urge.

Until she has a pre-lunch snack that borders on a full meal in itself right before driving herself to the diner and promptly eats herself a size too big for her usual booth, and the waitress can’t stop staring.

It’s exactly the outcome Stevie had hoped for, too.

Which really throws kind of a monkey wrench in her plans, because now she has to rely on her somewhat rusty self-control to keep from asking the woman—Eddie, her name tag says—to come with her to a hotel room right then and there. As soon as she gets home from lunch she waddles into her room to lose herself with a vibrating dildo and a few heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, disregarding how full she already feels in favor of that body-dominating sensation of being stuffed. Getting off to the sheer contrast between the two of them: Eddie’s thin, somewhat gangly body pressed against overflowing hourglass shape, thin fingers slipping in between soft, meaty thighs, long nose nudging into the fat pad below Stevie’s waist so those plush lips and clever tongue can find her clit.

Really, she should just stop going to the diner until the divorce. After all, she can (and increasingly does) eat anywhere. Tommy is probably already cheating on her, Stevie already sent a P.I. trailing after him. It shouldn’t be long now, not with the amount of money she has to push the proceedings through as quickly as possible.

Stevie starts going to the diner every day.

Permanent tag list (ask to be added/removed): @steviewashere @hotluncheddie @cozysweatersteve @wheneverfeasible @yesdangerpls

@ape31 @cosycryptid @grtwdsmwhr @hamiltonswiftie @hiei-harringtonmunson

@mascarponedaydreams @mrsjellymunson @sofadofax @motherofpirates

[xgumiho]

Of course Eddie would put Christmas ornaments in his hair

My twitter Steddie Santa piece for @/parapluiedenuit 🖤 Happy holidays!!

© xgumiho | do not repost/steal/edit/crop

[mascarponedaydreams]

Eddie, who starts hanging out with Steve more. They're always at his house, because it's big and empty and has a pool.

"I can't believe you just have all this stuff!" He exclaims as he opens the fridge, the pantries, the liquor cabinet.

Steve, who shrugs. He isn't big on snacking. Doesn't like even being home because it's so quiet. So he let's Eddie do whatever he wants.

Eddie hosts DND nights there and even sometimes uses the place for Corroded Coffin to practice.

Steve just keeps everything refilled at all times. Chip bowls, Eddie's sodas and beer, whatever. Just wants to be a good host and have Eddie keep coming. The place is never really quiet anymore. Even when it's just him and Eddie, it was still loud. Like when they'd get baked on the couch and watch movies and Eddie would laugh obnoxiously loud and cram popcorn in his mouth. Or when Eddie would yell at him over Steve suggesting Blondie is better than Joan Jett. It becomes routine.

Eddie, who thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Who doesn't know what it is to not have to figure out food to eat when Wayne had to wait for his next paycheck to go grocery shopping. Eddie, who never had someone constantly at his beck and call. Eddie, who sometimes chugs his drinks just to see if Steve will come over and refill it, which he does. Maybe he's gotten a little lazy. Maybe he should pitch in more, pick up his plates, clean them or something. But Steve's always too fast, too ready to be helpful. Eddie, who doesn't really notice things start fitting a little more snug. Who ignores it as he keeps snacking constantly, because Steve always has food. Even though he keeps tugging his shirt down, he's oblivious to why that is. Eddie, who doesn't realize his eating habits have changed and now he kind of has gotten himself into a pattern of packing so much away so frequently that he becomes able to fit more and more as time goes on and he kind of becomes a bottomless pit.

Steve, who notices what Eddie doesn't, and just keeps the supplies coming because he likes how comfortable Eddie is and doesn't want him to ever leave. Steve, who realizes he likes having Eddie around a lot. Steve, who after a long night, has to literally help Eddie tug his jeans down because he's gotten himself stuck in them. Eddie makes the first move. Why not? He has his pants around his ankles and Steve's face is kind of already in his crotch. When Steve's parents eventually come home a few days later, they find a curly haired man on their couch fast asleep, his hands on his belly, a tiny burp coming out even though he's not awake. Crumbs are around him. It's kind of a sight. Steve walks in and freezes before realizing he doesn't really care. "Oh. Uh. Hi mom and dad." This wakes Eddie up. "Steven. Why is there a chubby half naked man on our couch?" "Chubby!?"

[mascarponedaydreams]

Reblogging to add @scoops-aboy86 's tags because they make it better ~

[mascarponedaydreams]

Eddie, who starts hanging out with Steve more. They're always at his house, because it's big and empty and has a pool.

"I can't believe you just have all this stuff!" He exclaims as he opens the fridge, the pantries, the liquor cabinet.

Steve, who shrugs. He isn't big on snacking. Doesn't like even being home because it's so quiet. So he let's Eddie do whatever he wants.

Eddie hosts DND nights there and even sometimes uses the place for Corroded Coffin to practice.

Steve just keeps everything refilled at all times. Chip bowls, Eddie's sodas and beer, whatever. Just wants to be a good host and have Eddie keep coming. The place is never really quiet anymore. Even when it's just him and Eddie, it was still loud. Like when they'd get baked on the couch and watch movies and Eddie would laugh obnoxiously loud and cram popcorn in his mouth. Or when Eddie would yell at him over Steve suggesting Blondie is better than Joan Jett. It becomes routine.

Eddie, who thinks he's died and gone to heaven. Who doesn't know what it is to not have to figure out food to eat when Wayne had to wait for his next paycheck to go grocery shopping. Eddie, who never had someone constantly at his beck and call. Eddie, who sometimes chugs his drinks just to see if Steve will come over and refill it, which he does. Maybe he's gotten a little lazy. Maybe he should pitch in more, pick up his plates, clean them or something. But Steve's always too fast, too ready to be helpful. Eddie, who doesn't really notice things start fitting a little more snug. Who ignores it as he keeps snacking constantly, because Steve always has food. Even though he keeps tugging his shirt down, he's oblivious to why that is. Eddie, who doesn't realize his eating habits have changed and now he kind of has gotten himself into a pattern of packing so much away so frequently that he becomes able to fit more and more as time goes on and he kind of becomes a bottomless pit.

Steve, who notices what Eddie doesn't, and just keeps the supplies coming because he likes how comfortable Eddie is and doesn't want him to ever leave. Steve, who realizes he likes having Eddie around a lot. Steve, who after a long night, has to literally help Eddie tug his jeans down because he's gotten himself stuck in them. Eddie makes the first move. Why not? He has his pants around his ankles and Steve's face is kind of already in his crotch. When Steve's parents eventually come home a few days later, they find a curly haired man on their couch fast asleep, his hands on his belly, a tiny burp coming out even though he's not awake. Crumbs are around him. It's kind of a sight. Steve walks in and freezes before realizing he doesn't really care. "Oh. Uh. Hi mom and dad." This wakes Eddie up. "Steven. Why is there a chubby half naked man on our couch?" "Chubby!?"