steamystrangerfics

[steamystrangerfics]

Sunday/Monday

pairing - steve harrington x eddie munson wc - 6.9k Summary/warnings- Summer camp AU, eventual smut, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending, language, time-period typical homophobia, internalized homophobia, depictions of drowning, depictions of death/grief, depictions of substance abuse. 18+ MDNI

The air was thick, balmy. Robin stuck her ringed fingers out of the window to let them dance on the wind rushing past the car. She became chirpier with each mile they put between them and Hawkins, Steve noticed, and he couldn't blame her. The distance had a certain lightness to it.

She was thrilled to be leading the arts and crafts activities with the kids this summer, and despite Steve telling her that they definitely would provide her with supplies, she insisted on using fifty percent of the space in her duffle to bring her own. ‘Just in case’, she said.

Steve wished that he felt even a fraction of the giddiness that Robin did. For her– this summer was like an endless array of opportunities. For Steve, it felt like a mousetrap. His knuckles turned white against the steering wheel thinking about who was waiting for him there.

“Do you think that maybe, hypothetically, I might meet someone at camp? I mean, I feel like all female camp counselors are a little gay, right?” Robin wondered aloud beside Steve in the passenger seat. Just a few miles out now.

“Yeah, maybe.” He humored her absently.

“Dude, what crawled up your butt and died?” Robin elbowed him, “You’ve been like– suspiciously silent today and I’m not used to the lack of bitchiness.”

“That’s not even an actual expression,” Steve rolled his eyes, avoiding the question.

“Hey, I'm serious,” she paused, considering her next line of questioning carefully, “it’s not about– seeing him, is it?” Robin’s voice was a little more brittle then, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Steve that she wouldn't say Eddie’s name. Like merely mentioning it aloud would cause him to appear behind them in the backseat.

 “No– what? No.” He lied, “I’m just nervous. I don’t know– what if the kids hate me? Or something?”

“You? Nervous?” Robin eyed him skeptically.

“Yes, me, nervous.” Steve argued. Robin didn’t buy it and he knew it, but it didn’t matter as long as he could get her to quit interrogating him about it. Steve always thought she might’ve been a damn FBI agent in a past life.

Robin shrugged, hummed a noise of resignation and shoved a hand into the bag of trail mix between her thighs. “Want some?” She asked Steve through shoveling mouthfuls.

Steve spared her a weary, side-long glance, “When was the last time you washed your hands?”

She just looked at him, blinked. “Right,” Steve said, refocusing his eyes back towards the county route in front of them. A sky with clouds that migrated across the endless expanse of blue like buffalo; evergreen trees as far as the eye could see surrounded them on either side.

Robin shrugged, continuing to snack on her stale peanuts and raisins.

“Dude. You’re late.” Dustin admonished over the sound of gravel crunching under Steve’s tires.

“By what?” Steve mocked a glance at his watch, “Four minutes?”

“Three o’clock means three o’clock, Steve– I talked a big game about you to Patty to get you this job!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve dismissed the curly-haired boy with a wave of his hand. He might’ve been a thorn in Steve’s ass sometimes, but he had to admit that the familiar sound of his lisp was oddly comforting right now. “Help me carry this shit to my cabin, would you?”

Dustin’s mouth opened and closed like he was about to scold Steve for this language and decided it wasn’t worth the breath. He only huffed and pointedly took the smallest bag out of Steve’s trunk, leaving the heaviest duffle for the older boy to carry himself.

The camp was scenic as ever– a crystally, cyan-colored lake washed upon a sandy shore lined with kayaks that looked like they hadn't been replaced since the sixties. Towering pines lined the border where the forest met the main campground, and then there were the cabins. Small, water-damaged wood that was shaped vaguely like sheds. They looked just big enough for exactly how many campers were supposed to live in one– no more, no less.

A spark of nostalgic joy bloomed in Steve’s chest, the place reminded him of the summer camp his own parents had shipped him away to as a kid. The camp where he first met Tommy Hagan. Steve might not have been a huge fan of swimming in lakes anymore, but maybe a little exposure therapy would do him good; even if looking at it made his stomach drop.

“You must be Steven!” A shrill, maternal voice called across the field in his direction. Steve stood up straighter at the mention of his government name, and also the fact that this was presumably his boss.

“Just Steve,” Dustin corrected her.

“Steve,” Patty rolled his name around in her mouth, trying it out for size, “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Steve. I’m Patty.” She held out her bony hand for Steve to shake. He took it and didn’t think about how much it felt like his mother’s.

“Nice to meet you, Patty,” he cleared his throat, itching to fidget with the hairs that curled around the nape of his neck the way he did when he was nervous.

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying,” Patty chirped, “You guys will be in cabin eight–”

“‘Guys’?” Steve repeated. Patty ignored him, and they continued walking.

“There are fresh sheets on the bed– but of course, you can use your own if you have them. Wake up call is seven-thirty every morning, and you’ll have until eight o’clock to get yourself and your kiddos to the dining hall for breakfast. I’ll come by with your daily schedule in a little while. You’re welcome to stay at camp during the weekends while the kids are gone, but you won’t be paid for it. Kapeesh?”

Steve’s brain tried to keep up; tried not to climb the walls at the idea of waking up at seven-thirty for the first time since high school, “Kaposh?”

“Great then!” Patty exclaimed and pushed the cabin door open with her foot, “This is you. Make yourself comfortable, and if you need me– don’t!” And just as abruptly as she’d arrived, Patty was gone.

Steve just nodded dumbly as his boss walked away. He heard shuffling inside the cabin, wondering if some of his campers had already arrived and felt guilty he hadn’t gotten a quicker jump on the day. But when he finally gathered the courage to meet whoever was waiting for him inside, it wasn’t a wide-eyed middle schooler at all. It was–

“Hey, stranger.”

From across the dining hall, Eddie Munson looked almost the same as he did before. Before the world almost ended, before Steve had to administer one of the highest stakes CPR of his life, before the wires and the tubes and the surgeries beneath buzzing fluorescent lights. He almost looked the same.

He wore a blue and grey checkered flannel over that Metallica shirt he never seemed to take off, despite the temperature. Steve wondered if it was to hide the puckered scars on his arms and tried not to stare for too long, pushing around the shitty boxed mac and cheese on his plate. Across from him, Robin ranted through shoveling spoonfuls of noodles. To Steve– it all sounded like he was underwater.

“Earth to Steve,” Robin waved her slender hand in front of his face, “You still with us?”

“Yeah, sorry,” he mumbled, barely glancing up from his plate. He could hear Eddie's signature cackle from where he sat, the kids eating up his charisma already. 

“You coming to the staff bonfire tonight, Steve?” Another counselor– Heidi?-- asked him.

“I’ll probably stop by for a bit,” Steve told her, not missing the glint in her eye that a lot of girls had when they looked at him. He couldn’t bring himself to flirt back the way he would’ve done effortlessly in the past– didn’t want just another warm body under his arm. Not after everything.

So he pretended not to feel Heidi staring at him, pretended not to see Robin and Dustin exchanging worried glances with each other, and pretended that eating this meal didn’t make his stomach churn.

Before lights out, when all of their campers had officially arrived, they did ice breakers on the cabin floor– going around the group, introducing themselves. Eddie and Steve were responsible for six twelve-year-old boys for the next five weeks, and he just prayed he wouldn’t screw this up too. Eddie seemed to be such a natural with them, even if Steve could tell that his grin only reached just short of his eyes.

“Alright, gremlins,” Eddie had told them, “Away to your bedchambers. Big days are upon us.” And the group had listened begrudgingly, crawling into their bunks and squirming for a bit before Steve was sure they’d all finally fallen asleep.

Whoever had started the bonfire clearly wasn’t fucking around. The flames licked up high in the blue oil spill that was the night sky, and Steve realized for the first time just how many stars shined without all the light pollution from the city.

He was a bit late to the party, it seemed. Counselors were already lounging in adirondack chairs with sweating beers in their hands– which he was almost positive were not permitted on camp grounds. There was chatter and laughter, and somewhere around the fire, someone was plucking out chords on an acoustic guitar. Steve didn’t need to see to know who it was.

“Hey, you made it,” Robin looped an arm around his shoulders where he sat on a log carved to look like a bench.

“I made it,” Steve tried something like a grin and she offered him a beer.

“Blondie over there has been making googly eyes at you since dinner,” Robin groaned, another one of her future prospects stolen from her by the devilish charm and wit of Steve The Hair. “You gonna talk to her?”

“Not unless I have to,” Steve breathed a laugh, a genuine one this time. His eyes kept drifting towards that lanky frame without his permission, lingering on the way Eddie’s fingers hammered the E string on his guitar. The tune he was playing was only distantly familiar.

“Have you talked to him?” Robin asked, nodding in Eddie’s direction.

“Not really. Only in front of the kids.”

“And you haven’t since…” Robin trailed off the end of her question.

“Not since that night. Right before his first surgery.” Steve confirmed what his best friend already knew, that he was a coward– a scared little boy in a man’s body. Someone who couldn’t even look at Eddie without hearing the cracking of his ribs beneath Steve’s hands or the nauseating gurgle that erupted from the blood pooling in Eddie’s throat as he begged Steve to help him. The memory made his eyes clench shut so tight he could see those tiny white spots.. “I’m not sure he even remembers.”

“It’ll get easier, you know.” Robin assured him, because she wasn’t sure what else to say, “With time.”

Steve nodded absently, hoping she was right. Counting on it, in fact, because this was about to be a long fucking six weeks if it didn’t.

Heidi sauntered over to their bench from wherever it was girls like her spent their time, sat her pretty backside in the open space next to Steve, their thighs touching.

“Hey, thought I recognized a familiar head of hair,” Heidi grinned, smacked her gum. She sort of reminded Steve of Carol. The mention of his hair made Steve want to comb his fingers through it, just to have something to do with his hands other than sit there like a fucking idiot.

Robin had abandoned her spot beside him, never one for being able to tolerate sitting still for too long. Heidi was still talking about something, it sounded like  it sounded like the teacher in Charlie Brown to Steve– nonsensical, droning blabber. But across from him, face slightly warped from the heat waves coming off the fire, Eddie was laughing at something one of the other guys had said. Steve had to go.

“Sorry,” he muttered to the disappointed girl beside him. “Sorry–” but he didn’t mean it.

The collar of his shirt felt too tight around his neck and suddenly the bits of ash falling at his feet were starting to look suspiciously like the motes that floated and got caught in your eyes and teeth in that dank, dark alternate dimension and he just–

The steps of the cabin were moist with the humidity logged in the wood, cooling with the night and seeping into Steve’s legs where he sat trying to remember how to breathe. How was he going to survive an entire summer if he couldn’t even enjoy one night? He felt that sickness burrowed inside his chest begin to scratch and claw its way to the surface, begging for air– to be fed and nurtured.

Things really kicked off the next morning.

The entire camp was awoken with the magnified sound of a bugle horn being projected through a stereo system at seven-thirty A.M. sharp– just like Patty had said.

“Jesus H–” Eddie groaned before Steve cut him off.

“Language, Munson– there are young, impressionable ears in this cabin.” Steve admonished through a barely stifled yawn.

Eddie shot him a pointed glance from his bed across the room, stretching his arms over his head. It was too hot for anyone, even Eddie, to sleep in something long-sleeved, and when he stretched, Steve caught the tiniest sliver of scar tissue on the backs of his biceps. It made the acid in his stomach curdle.

“Alright–” Eddie grunted as he swung his legs over his bed and began shaking the kids awake, comically snatching the blankets off their sleeping bodies just to be a pain. “Up and at em’!” Steve flinched a little at the turn of phrase his mom used to use when she was still consistently sober enough to wake him up for school in the mornings.

He thought he felt Eddie’s eyes lingering on his back, waiting to see if he’d catch a glimpse of their matching set of healed wounds. Steve hoped he was just imagining it as he pulled his shirt off and over his head by the neck, ruffling his hair in the process. Steve grabbed the t-shirt closest to the top of his duffle and threw on his swim trunks, just in case. By the time he’d combed his fingers through his hair enough times to make it stop sticking out at odd angles, the kids and Eddie were badgering him about being late for breakfast.

Serving a bunch of children boiled eggs before eleven A.M should be punishable by death, Steve thought. He knew Eddie must’ve been thinking it too, if the sour look on his face was any indication. The entire table– no, the entire hall smelled like straight sulfur. Steve would be skipping breakfast today.

Camp policy was that the counselors had to serve the kids their meals, including second helpings, if they so choose. Something about ‘stopping the spread of germs’, or whatever. Once Eddie and Steve had finished serving all of their little twelve-year-old fiends, they were allowed to sit and eat their own meals.

“Skipping breakfast, Harrington?” Eddie tsked, “Most important meal of the day you know,”

“That’s interesting, I’ve never heard that.” Steve deadpanned, observing the empty plate that sat in front of Eddie, “Could tell you the same thing. Not gonna eat?”

“Nah,” Eddie waved, “thought I might eat some dirt out by the lake later. Anything’s better than these boiled farts.” That elicited a real laugh from Steve, maybe the first one since he’d arrived here yesterday afternoon.

“Mister Steve?” One of the boys asked– Eli, maybe? “Can I have another–” And then the kid cut himself off with a violent sneeze.

In an instant, Steve's face was covered in bits of chewed up boiled egg, and he severely hoped this wasn’t a premonition of how the rest of this summer would go. Eddie’s laugh of pure shock was poorly stifled, but he acted swiftly to help clean Steve up.

“Sorry!” Eli or Evan or Elijah was yelling. He was a nerdy kid, glasses and a big gap between his teeth. He reminded Steve of Dustin when he was that age.

“It’s okay, bud. Could you hand me a napkin?” Steve asked, eyes squinted to keep out the pieces of yolk.

“Here,” he heard Eddie say, and then a wet paper towel was being shoved into Steve's open palm.

“Thanks, man.” Steve wiped his face, swallowing down the bile that threatened to climb his esophagus if he thought about exactly what he was cleaning off his face. It didn’t help that he still couldn’t get that sulfuric smell out of his nostrils.

He looked at Eddie when he was done, lips sealed in a tight line. “You got a little– here–” Eddie said, reaching over to pluck a stray piece of egg white out of a strand of Steve’s hair. He stayed stock still, let Eddie get it for him. The only thing that managed to breach the smell of egg was the scent of Eddie’s skin: sunscreen and something like incense. Cinnamon.

“Thanks,” Steve said much quieter this time, almost imperceptibly. And when breakfast was over, Steve was still trying to correct the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Steve could hear the offbeat banging of drums and the nonsensical strummings of various guitars drifting from the shed where Eddie led his music lessons while Steve set up dodgeball for the herds of children making their way to him now. Maybe dodgeball was cliche, or overused, but Steve had always loved it as a kid; loved having an excuse to wail rubber balls at the other kids. Especially the ones he didn’t like.

He laughed inwardly at the idea, and secretly hoped some of the other kids might be grateful to him for giving them the same opportunity. Maybe they’d be less asshole-ish if Steve let them get some of their anger out.

As the laughter and overlapping shouts grew nearer, Steve happened to spot a familiar silhouette making its way down the hill after the gaggle of campers.

“Dingus!” Robin called, waving a lanky arm in the air.

Steve waved back, smiling wide. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have campers?”

“It’s my free period,” Robin told him when she was out of shouting range, “thought i’d swing by and watch you get pummeled by a bunch of fourth graders.”

“That’s sweet.” Steve said dryly. Sometimes Robin was the only person Steve felt even halfway normal around. Something about her soothed him– that firecracker of a girl, as if she saw that rottenness nesting in Steve’s chest and didn’t care. Loved him despite it.

Steve explained the game to the kids with an air of authority– some of them hemmed and hawed while others cheered, already strategizing their plays. Team captains were decided via a vote, and Steve a Robin would be moderating– their excuse not to join in.

But when every last kid had been picked, Steve quickly realized he’d miscounted, and there was an odd number of campers. The one who was left out– a scrawny boy with deep set eyes, clothes that were most likely hand-me-downs or thrifted from a Goodwill, and wire-frame glasses sat atop a smattering of freckles– slouched in the field; begging with his eyes for someone to rescue him from this especially unique form of humiliation.

While the teams chatted amongst themselves, Steve approached the boy.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m Steve, what’s your name?”

“Ben.” The kid spoke softly, almost intelligibly.

“Ben,” Steve repeated, “Who’s team do you want to be on, Ben?”

Ben hesitated, eyes flitting between the two groups and practically cowering, “I– I don’t know.”

Suddenly and quite all-consumingly, Steve felt a rush of sympathy for him. Not in the way of recognition, but something more like guilt. Steve didn’t see himself in this shy, bony kid the way Robin or even Eddie might have, no– Steve saw himself ten years ago, the version that would’ve bullied this kid; would’ve made sure that he was picked last and wouldn't have felt an ounce of remorse about it. Maybe that’s why he did what he did next, some pathetic attempt at redeeming the irredeemable parts of himself. Or maybe it was because this awkward little boy reminded him of someone.

“Tell you what– I need you to do something for me, Ben.” Steve whispered to him conspiratorially.

Ben nodded, so Steve continued, “It’s very important though, do you think you can handle it?”

The boy seemed more determined now, nodded more fervently and said, “Uh huh…”

“I need you to take my job and be the coach, so that Robin and I can play,” Steve told him.

Ben giggled, “You want to play dodgeball?”

No. “Heck yeah, ‘course I do.”

“Okay,” Ben giggled again in that contagious way kids do, his cheeks flushing. Steve reached around his neck and pulled off his whistle and badge, set them gently around Ben’s much smaller neck. The boy’s eyes widened like Steve had just hung a gold medallion on him.

“You blow this whistle if you see anyone breaking the rules, ‘kay?”

Ben was a boy of very few words apparently– just head nodding with varying levels of urgency. He walked over to stand next to Robin and she looked at Steve with an eyebrow quirked, not having heard their conversation.

“C’mon, Buckley–” Steve yelled, waving her over, “Guess who’s playing dodgeball?”

Robin was violently shaking her head, arms out in protest, but the kids erupted in whoops and cheers– taking extra delight at the idea of hurling balls at the people who’re meant to be in charge of them all summer.

It reminded Steve of PE in elementary school, except that he took extra care not to use all his strength when getting people out; conscious of the fact that he wasn’t eighty pounds anymore. Steve and Robin were on opposing teams, and actually, Steve didn’t hate it half as much as he thought he would.

That was until he got hit square in the balls by a rubber ball moving at such a velocity that it could’ve been considered assault.

“Robin Anne-Marie Buckley–” Steve groaned through gritted teeth as he keeled over, eyes pinched shut as he tried to breathe through his nose and out through his mouth.

Steve can count on one hand the amount of times he’s had to hold a bag of frozen peas to his groin, each time just as miserable as the one before it. That’s where he was now: propped up on his starchy camp mattress with the cold compress icing his dick, supervising while he and Eddie’s campers participated in various boardgame activities around the cabin.

Speak of the Devil– Eddie kicked the door open with a flourish, the kids all whipping around to see who had caused the sudden intrusion and finding themselves pleased. They liked Eddie more than Steve, and who could blame them? Certainly not him.

“Hey, goblins,” Eddie greeted, his eyes scanning the room for his co-counselor. When he spotted Steve, his left eyebrow quivered in confusion. “You–?” Eddie pointed a finger towards Steve's afflicted groin.

“Dodgeball. Robin.” Steve explained.

“Say no more,” Eddie grinned, always grinning, but it was twinged with sympathy. It was as if every single one of Eddie’s emotions could be portrayed solely by different variations of that same damn grin.

“Eddie,” whined one of the peskier boys, “when’s it time for dinner?” He asked, elongating the last syllable for extra measure.

“Soon! Patience, young grasshopper.” Then Eddie said to Steve, quieter, “Can you walk? Do you want me to take them?”

Under the attention of Eddie’s big, brown cow-eyes, Steve’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth– God, what is wrong with him? “I can– I can walk,” Steve swallowed.

The remainder of the day went quickly. Turns out time flies when you’re under constant pressure to keep a gaggle of school-aged children safe twenty-four seven. Steve would know, after all.

Dinner that night was goulash, and the kitchen manager– an older lady around Patty’s age named Sandra– asked Steve to help her prepare the meal, as she was short-staffed. Sandra was sweet, with sharp brown eyes and streaks of gray invading her black hair. Born in Korea, her parents immigrated to the United States when she was four, she told Steve as she prepared the ingredients.

“Harrington…” She said after a comfortable silence, chewing on his last name like she was reaching for some distant memory. She kept stirring the pot of sauce in front of her, “Is your mom Christine?” Sandra finally asked.

Steve’s eyes widened a little in surprise, “Yeah… how’d you know?”

“Oh!” She seemed delighted to have remembered, to be able to recall the memory to Steve now in this stuffy kitchen, “I have a son about your age– went to Hawkins Elementary. Your mom and I used to be on the PTA together. How is she now?”

Steve wished he could tell this sweet woman that his mom was still the same person she was when she made muffins for the PTA bakesales, that she still smelled like cherry blossoms and hairspray– but the years had not been kind to Christine Harrington. He thought about his mother now: wrinkly skin loosely draped over brittle bones, like a few twigs tied together with twine and wrapped in cloth animated into something resembling a person. At some point between then and now, the floral smell that always followed Steve’s mom had morphed into something more acrid and sour, like sweat and pain pills and alcohol. She was rarely lucid when Steve saw her, and he still loved her the same as he did when he was six. But there was something under the surface of that adoration now that felt more like resentment than pure, childish love.

“She’s– yeah, she’s good. She’s…” Steve trailed off, not wanting to ruin Sandra’s picture of his mom, “She stays at home a lot now. She got sick– a while ago.” You could call it that.

Sandra frowned up at him, Steve might as well have been a giant compared to her. “I’m so sorry to hear that. Send her my best, will you, son?” She asked, with painted fingernails resting over where her heart beat.

“‘Course– Of course, I will.” Steve swallowed hard. The rest of the meal was prepared in a comfortable silence– Steve and Sandra moving around the kitchen together in a sort of choreography. Coincidentally, it reminded Steve of what it felt like when his mother would let him help cook dinner when he was young.

He and Eddie served their campers at their table. Eddie scarfed his down, groaning in a way that was almost obscene for the children they were surrounded by.

“Who knew you could cook, Harrington,” he lamented around a mouthful of sauce and noodles.

“It was mostly Sandy. I just helped with the prep, and stuff.” Steve told him, pushing his food around his plate with his fork to try and make it look like he had been eating. He hadn’t really had an appetite since he arrived yesterday afternoon��� mostly surviving off of bologna sandwiches and a prayer.

Eddie noticed because of course he did, “Hey– you okay, man? You haven’t taken a bite in like, ten minutes. Or at all.”

Steve’s eyes snapped up to Eddies, “Oh, yeah.” Steve wished someone would smack him with something every time he used the word ‘yeah’ as a response. Just to see how long it would take to condition him to say literally anything else. “Just– haven’t really worked up an appetite today, I guess.

“Suit yourself, Amigo.” Eddie said as he shoveled more food into his mouth, surely setting a pristine example of table manners for all the impressionable youth sitting adjacent to them. He ate like a teenage boy just beginning the long, tortuous road of puberty.

It was camp tradition, according to Dustin, to have a group campfire on Monday evenings. There would be music and weird, almost ritualistic singing, games and smores. Steve tried his hardest to look forward to it as he doused himself in bugspray, his stomach growling. He was starting to seriously regret his refusal to eat earlier.

A dramatic, violent hacking came from Steve’s right, startling him. “Can you watch where you’re spraying that shit, Harrington? I’m not a huge fan of inhaling aerosol–” Eddie choked, waving his hands theatrically in front of his face.

“Oh– sorry– I didn’t realize anyone else was out here,”

“I’m stealthy like that,” Eddie grinned that same Cheshire grin, “You gonna be at the campfire, or are you sitting that out too?”

“No, no. I’ll be there,” Steve paused, shaking his head. “Will you?”

“‘Course, someone’s gotta provide the music, right?”

Steve swallowed hard, the thought of hearing Eddie play again thick in the back of his throat. He felt like an idiot, who else here could play the guitar? “Oh yeah, right.” Steve breathed a self-depricating laugh, “Duh.”

Eddie indulged Steve with another sheepish smile, Steve could tell he didn’t want him to feel embarrassed. “Are you okay wrangling the kids down there yourself? I need to tune my guitar before–”

“Oh yeah, for sure, man– go for it. How hard could it be?”

Very, as it turns out. Steve’s gone through three cans of bugspray by the time he’s confident his campers won’t be waking him up tonight with complaints of mosquito bites in places they can’t even reach.

“Where’s Eddie?” Bryce, a taller kid with bleach blonde hair asked as they trek down the hill towards the firepit. Bryce seemed to be the ring-leader of at least Steve and Eddie’s cabin, if not all the boys his age at the camp. He reminded Steve of himself when he was young; back when he could still look in a mirror and recognize himself.

“He’s already down there–  why don’t you have shoes on.” Steve sighed, not as if he was truly asking.

Bryce looked down at his feet like it was news to him that he was walking through the woods barefoot. Whatever, Steve thought, and hoped Patty wouldn’t be pissed.

Some of the other counselors were already surrounding the firepit, attempting to settle their own groups of campers. Robin and another male counselor were lighting the fire, stoking the flames until they were big and orange and singed the side of Steve's face if he got too close. He chose the two logs closest to where Eddie sat, and ushered the kids down beside him. Eddie was plucking away at the strings of his guitar, bathed in the glow of the fire. His hair was frizzy, the sun setting behind him illuminated the rogue strands like a halo. Eddie smiled at Steve when he noticed him.

“Hey,” Eddie said, his voice rougher the quieter he spoke. Smokey.

“Hi,” Steve replied, rubbing his damp palms up and down the thighs of his khaki shorts, “What were you playing just then?”

“Going To California," Eddie grinned when Steve looked at him to continue, “Led Zeppelin.” Eddie clarified.

“Oh,” Steve said, lips parted prettily. “That’s cool. I mean– that you can do that,” Steve told him, gesturing vaguely to where Eddie’s calloused fingers still rested limply on the strings of his acoustic.

“My Uncle Wayne taught me,” Eddie informed with a quiet air of pride, “It’s a technique called ‘Travis Picking’.” He began to demonstrate as he talked, still gazing at Steve and not missing a beat, “Your thumb picks the bass note while your other fingers pluck the melody, like this–”

Eddie resumed playing the same melody that he had been when Steve approached earlier, light and airy. Not at all what Steve thought Led Zeppelin’s music was supposed to sound like. The firelight glinted off the silver on Eddie’s fingers where Steve’s focus was glued like a moth to a flame. This unrecognizable fixation.

“Yeah–” Steve chuckled breathlessly, always breathless. “I can’t really do anything like that…” He admitted, scratching at the nape of his neck and wishing he was good at something.

“Nonsense,” Eddie waved, “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. I’ll teach you– when we get back home. If you want.” Steve tried to listen, tried to respond, but the phrase ‘when we get back home’ just bounced uselessly around the corners of his skull like an echochamber, rendering him mute.

Patty spoke in a booming voice before either of them got the chance to speak again: “Well, hellooooo, Camp Nowhere!”

The kids erupted in a chorus of varied greetings, laughing and shouting and kicking their feet. Steve could tell which campers had been here before and which ones were new this summer based on their levels of enthusiasm.

Eddie and Patty kicked off the night with a frankly tear-jerking rendition of Landslide, and Steve was pleasantly surprised to find out that Patty could sing. He thought her voice was soothing in that raspy, maternal way that all middle-aged women’s voices were. It reminded him of his own mother, how she used to sing while she folded laundry.

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until Ben, the little boy from dodgeball, tapped his shoulder, “Why are you crying, mister Steve?” Ben’s sweet, mousy voice pulled him temporarily out of whatever pit he had fallen into. The boy had been stuck unwaveringly to Steve’s side since this afternoon, and Steve felt a deep, almost brotherly affection for him. Protective.

“I just really like Miss Patty’s singing,” Steve sniffed quickly and smiled down where Ben was peering up at him through long lashes.

“That’s okay, mister Steve,” He loved how Ben called him that even though he didn’t have to. “It’s okay to be sad sometimes.” The boy told him in a cadence that made it obvious he was parroting something a parent had told him, rubbing his freckled hand along Steve’s arm in an attempt at comforting him. Steve smiled, genuinely this time.

“Thanks, buddy. I think I feel better now,” the sentiment elicited a toothy grin from Ben, “Want me to make you a s’more?” Steve nudged his knee with his own and Ben nodded excitedly. He could feel Eddie staring in his peripheral vision, though he couldn’t be certain what for. It made a heat crawl up his neck, wishing for just one goddamn second that he could be normal around him.

Steve was washing his hands free of marshmallow residue as Eddie wrestled the kids into bed one by one, high on sugar and good music. Eddie complained, but he knew well and good that he was always the one that riled them up in the first place.

Steve could feel a headache brewing just behind his eyes, and he severely hoped that that’s all it was. The fluorescents in the cabin bathroom were harsh, they made the porcelain look whiter and more sterile. He began to zone out, scrubbing at the back of his hands and underneath his fingernails with such fury that he’d temporarily forgotten that he wasn’t at Hawkins Memorial Hospital, ridding himself of bacteria in preparation to enter the ICU–

“Hey,” Eddie's voice called from just behind him. Steve looked up, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just– covered in marshmallow. All sticky.” Steve tried a laugh, but it fell flat.

“Your hands are all raw,” Eddie observed worriedly, taking Steve’s hand in between his own with the palm facing the floor, inspecting it.

“Probably just the soap,” Steve offered, “sometimes hand soap irritates my skin.” Not a complete lie, his hands would occasionally break out in hives when he did the dishes. But Steve knew that wasn’t why his hands were raw now.

Eddie looked skeptical, but by some miracle, whatever expression Steve was wearing must’ve convinced him to drop it. Steve’s hand and the subject itself. He splashed cold water over his face once Eddie exited the cramped bathroom, practically begging  himself to get it together.

It was lights out around twenty minutes later, the kids all tucked into their bunks: eyelids heavy with the aftermath of belly laughter. Steve sat idly on his bed, thumbing through a book that he wasn’t actually reading. He’d find himself scanning the same sentence over and over again, willing himself to comprehend the words on the page and still not being able to. He sat up, pulled on his slippers. A walk around the campground would tire him out surely, or maybe even a visit to Robin and Vickie’s cabin.

But when he’d swung the door open on its creaky hinges, he was met with a big cloud of curly black hair instead of the wide expanse of the field in front of their cabin.

Wordlessly, Steve sat down on the step next to Eddie. Eddie glanced at him sideways but didn’t turn his attention away from the guitar in his lap. He was strumming the tune from Sunday night, at the campfire. The one that sounded vaguely familiar to Steve, he just couldn’t seem to put his finger on it.

“What’s this one?” Steve asked softly, leaning over subconsciously to watch Eddie’s hands.

“Born To Be My Baby,” Eddie told him.

“Bon Jovi,” Steve responded dumbly. He couldn’t understand why his brain turned to soup and dripped from his ears whenever they interacted. Steve had taken to assuming that that was just the effect Eddie Munson had on folks. “I didn’t recognize it at first.”

“That’s ‘cause this is the acoustic version,” Eddie grinned, but not in the smug way that Steve was used to. It was tender, like they were sharing a secret. Gentle and warm between them.

“I like Bon Jovi,” Steve added, picking at the skin around his fingernails again. The skin on the back of his hand was starting to burn now, so he shoved them between his thighs.

“I know,” Eddie replied. Steve didn’t ask how he knew, even if he wanted to.

The two of them sat in a full, comfortable silence for a few more minutes. For the first time since Steve arrived at camp, he didn’t feel like he needed to be looking over his shoulder constantly.

Eddie pulled the guitar strap over his head and Steve’s heart sank: That was it. The moment had ended and now they were going to bed. Steve would wake up tomorrow feeling exactly as he had until the moment he stepped out onto these rickety stairs and it would be over–

Something heavy was being set in his lap, Steve looked down and saw that familiar brown of Eddie’s acoustic. “You try,” was all Eddie said.

“I don’t–” Steve choked on his breath, “I don’t know how–”

Eddie scooched impossibly closer, the faint smell of weed and cinnamon and something earthy filling Steve’s senses. He could hardly breathe right now, let alone play a six string. “Here–” Eddie said, positioning Steve fingers on the second fret and his other hand on the strings.

Steve’s hand felt like it was in rigor mortis, stiff and unyielding. But Eddie was determined, “Relax your fingers– there you go– now, put this finger here and these two right above it…” Eddie's breath fell over Steve’s neck in concentration, unwilling to give up.

Much to Steve’s shock, he’d managed to mold his fingers on the fret in the position that Eddie had instructed, “Okay, what now?” Steve asked.

“Now strum, but avoid the top string. That’s your E string,”

“Okay,” Steve breathed, and did as Eddie said. An out-of-tune chord reverberated from the cavernous middle of the instrument. Steve winced but Eddie looked utterly elated.

“You did it!” Eddie exclaimed, conscious of being quiet enough not to wake the children sleeping just behind them. “That’s your first chord– an open C. You’ll be a proper Lindsey Buckingham before you know it,” Eddie patted Steve’s shoulder, using it as leverage to stand up and head back inside, but the notion didn’t make Steve want to sink into a hole in the ground this time.

“You don’t even like Fleetwood Mac,” Steve pointed out, chuckling over his shoulder.

“I know. But just you wait, Harrington– I’m gonna turn you into a real metalhead. Mark my words.” Eddie said, forming an ‘x’ over the portion of his chest where his heart rests.

Steve turned back towards the vast abyss of wilderness in front of him when he felt a blush start to creep up his neck.

“You comin’ in?” Eddie asked.

“No. I think I’m gonna sit a little longer. Keep honing my craft.”

He heard Eddie breathe a laugh from behind him, “You do that. Night, Harrin–”

“Just Steve.” He interrupted without truly meaning to, he turned again to meet Eddie’s eye, “You can– you can just call me Steve.”

“Okay,” Eddie smiled and God, it was so earnest. “Goodnight, Steve.”

He heard the cabin door click shut, and only then was he able to fill his lungs to capacity with the damp summer air. Fireflies danced all around his head, and he wished he had a mason jar to catch one in, just for a moment. He would set it free– he always did. Steve was good at that: catching things and reluctantly letting them go.

divider credit to @saradika-graphics

[steamystrangerfics]

I've gotten a few asks about this recently and I've finally been struck with inspiration on the subject, so I just wanna let y'all know...

To the Experienced!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Reader fans:

Your time is coming.

“Not that big of a deal? Sweetheart, stubbing your toe is not that big of a deal. Forgetting to check the mail is not that big of a deal,” his voice raises imploringly, his hands gesture around his person wildly, “Losing your virginity? To a stranger? That’s a pretty big-fuckin’-deal.”

Once again, you roll your eyes, ignoring the way his head cocks and his eyes narrow in warning. You know he hates when you roll your eyes at him—but if he wasn’t such a hypocrite, you wouldn't have to! 

A quiet chuckle leaves your lips as you avert your eyes, suddenly finding the speckled laminate incredibly interesting. 

Like a puppy hearing an unfamiliar sound, Eddie’s head cocks back the other way—now trying to figure out what exactly he said that has you laughing. Usually he loves the sound, but he doesn’t like the tone of this one. There’s something derisive about it. 

“I’m sorry, I must’ve missed the joke there, sweets. Care to clue me in?”

You guys are in for a treat. We've got Experienced!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Reader AND Virgin!Eddie Munson x Experienced!Reader coming soon to a b(l)og near you.

Ghost, stop starting brand new fics when you have literally a million WIPs challenge: IMPOSSIBLE.

I hope to finish this one with haste and not turn it into another WIP that sits and soaks for a while.

[steamystrangerfics]

COME AGAIN? | Best Friend!Perv!Eddie x Virgin!Reader

Summary: When you go to your best friend for dating advice, his perverted ways come in handy.

WC: -5k

Warnings: smut, description of sexual acts in porn, m!masturbation, fingering, oral f!receiving, possessive!Eddie, jealousy, pining, sexual fantasies, Eddie is a perv with a corruption kink (but his intentions are good), friends to lovers, R and Eddie are both 21+

18+ MDNI

Eddie flopped down onto your bed, a sullen frown clouding his otherwise handsome features.

Earlier that afternoon you had surprised your best friend with the news that you’d been asked out on a date by a guy you met at the community college.

Ever since then Eddie had been in a terrible mood — one that had only gotten worse after a long afternoon spent listening to you talk non-stop about Bobby, with his great hair and really cool car.

Leaning back against your pillows, Eddie watched as you pulled one dress after another out of your closet and held them up against your frame in the reflection of the full length mirror.

He couldn’t understand why you were making such a fuss. In all the time he’d known you, you’d never shown much interest in dating.

Besides, Bobby sounded boring, and just like every other douchebag with a sports car who’d probably never had an original thought in their life.

And since when had you started caring about things like flashy cars? You had always seemed perfectly content to ride around town in his van.

Eddie didn’t like this new development one bit.

You had moved to Hawkins two years prior when you’d enrolled in the secretarial sciences program at the community college. To help with rent, you’d taken a part time job at the town library, working mostly weekends and some evenings when your classes didn’t run too late.

On your first day at the library, Eddie had approached you at the desk, hoping to put the latest Terry Pratchett book on hold. When you had looked up at him through your lashes and flashed him your sweetest smile, that had been it for him. He was immediately a goner.

Being a bit quiet and shy, you’d found it hard to make new friends in the close-knit town, but Eddie had taken you under his wing right away.

Since that day you’d been inseparable.

As you got to know him better, you found that despite his metal image, Eddie was a really sweet and sensitive guy. He was also fiercely loyal and protective of his friends, but you held a sacred place above all the rest.

In his eyes you were perfect. His angel.

The upcoming dinner with Bobby was going to be your first date since moving to Hawkins, and you were admittedly a bit nervous. College guys seemed so worldly — and you hadn’t been on many dates, or even had a real relationship to speak of.

It wasn’t that guys never tried to approach you, but when they did you never knew what to say back, and the conversations soon fizzled out and went nowhere.

You’d been kissed a few times over the years, but that was pretty much it.

You knew there was nothing wrong with still being a virgin at your age, but sometimes you felt a bit insecure about your lack of experience. Thankfully the topic wasn’t something that typically came up in casual conversation.

That was, until one night when you had one too many drinks at the Hideout and divulged the information to Eddie.

To your surprise, he hadn’t laughed or teased you when you confided in him that you were still a virgin. In fact, he’d encouraged it, telling you that saving yourself for the right person would only make sex better in the end.

“Guys like these,” he’d warned as he pointed out random men around the bar, “are only after one thing.”

And being a man himself, you supposed that he would know — not that he ever talked about girls around you.

Come to think of it, Eddie hadn’t gone out with anyone since the two of you had started hanging out, which you found strange considering how attractive and outgoing he was.

You couldn’t deny that you thought Eddie was very handsome, and at first you’d even had a little crush on the metalhead. But after a few months had passed and he never made a move, you’d resigned yourself to just being his friend. Which was fine.

In some ways it was kind of a relief that you could let your guard down around him, knowing he didn’t have some hidden agenda to get into your pants.

Though, after a while you started to notice things here and there that gave you pause.

Like how sometimes things would go missing after he visited your apartment.

It was never anything big, usually just small items of clothing or personal trinkets. You felt guilty for even considering that Eddie had taken them, and you couldn’t be sure. It wasn’t exactly something you could just come out and ask him over milkshakes.

Not wanting to falsely accuse your friend and risk hurting his feelings, you let it slide. Besides, you did have a tendency to misplace things, and your missing underwear always turned up eventually.

Then there was the time you’d found his porn.

Finding his secret stash had been innocent on your part, and again, not something you could really blame on Eddie.

One evening he’d left you alone at his place to go sell weed a few trailers down. You’d lost an earring in his room and when you had gotten down to look for it, you’d noticed the ear of a magazine sticking out from underneath his bed. When you’d pulled it out to see what it was, you’d found a treasure trove of nudie magazines and videos with raunchy cover art.

Fascinated, you’d spread the magazines out on his floor.

You’d never seen a nude magazine before, other than a quick glance at the plastic covered issues hidden in the back of the rack at the convenience store. You studied the women’s breasts, hips and thighs, enchanted by their sultry poses and exposed flesh.

As you flipped through the issues you’d found that some pages looked much more well worn than others, and that it definitely looked like Eddie had a type.

You supposed that if you wanted to overthink things, the girls on those pages might have looked a bit a lot like you. It was actually kind of flattering to be honest.

The titles of the video tapes, though? Not ones you’d ever repeat out loud to anyone. They were so dirty. So very, very dirty.

After getting your fill, you’d shoved the pile of porn back under his bed before he got home, and you never mentioned to him that you’d found it.

You rationalized that it was normal for a single man of his age to look at porn. Even though you’d never gone all the way, you weren’t oblivious to how things worked. You knew guys sometimes needed a release, and it wasn’t like Eddie had a girlfriend.

You told yourself you were probably just imagining any resemblance between you and the women. Eddie would never look at you that way, and it wasn’t like he’d ever done anything to make you think otherwise.

Sure, he was affectionate. Always hugging you or resting a hand on your thigh. Sometimes he liked to hold your hand or cuddle with you while you watched TV, but you were sure that didn’t mean anything. You were just really good friends.

Whenever the two of you watched movies in his room, he liked to sit with you snuggled between his legs with your back against his chest. You’d feel so safe and warm as he’d rub soft, comforting circles over your arms or thighs.

Of course, the first time you’d noticed his hard-on poking into your back it had been a little bit awkward, but you’d supposed that wasn’t totally his fault. He likely couldn’t help it if his body reacted to your innocent touches or when you’d wiggle between his legs during the scary parts of the movie.

To avoid embarrassing Eddie, you just pretended you didn’t notice and tried to ignore the firm heat of his cock against your back, though it wasn’t easy.

To be fair, you’d never been close friends with any other guys before, so there was a chance you were blowing everything out of proportion. It was probably nothing.

But still, you had to wonder.

Of course, if anyone had asked Eddie, he would have insisted his intentions for you were nothing but pure. You were his angelic best friend who was totally off limits.

He wasn’t a bad guy.

He knew it would have been wrong to let his hand linger on the soft swell of your bottom when you needed a boost into the passenger seat of his van.

And definitely wrong to lie in bed at night picturing his naughty little librarian, pencil skirt hiked up around your waist and silk blouse pulled open to expose your perfect breasts.

And so very, very wrong to stroke his thick cock to that image, or to imagine his head between your thighs on the circulation desk, lapping at your sweet pussy until you creamed all over his tongue.

He wasn’t a pervert.

Ok sure, sometimes he’d rifle through your things when you weren’t around, but he was just a curious person by nature. He’d never spent much time around girls growing up, and liked the colorful silk and lace of your panties and bras.

And so what if he’d taken a few pairs of your underwear here and there? It’s not like it was hurting anyone. He always returned them later, and made sure to take the worn ones from the laundry hamper so as to leave you plenty of clean pairs fresh in your drawer.

You were the apple of Eddie’s eye, and as your best friend he took it upon himself to protect you from the bad guys out there. Guys who might not have had the purest of intentions at heart.

Did Eddie threaten anyone who showed the slightest interest in you? Yes, but he was only looking out for his sweet best friend. He couldn’t be sure of their motives, and nobody was good enough for his girl.

So when you’d announced that you’d been asked out on a date and had accepted, it was a shock to say the least. He didn’t take the news well.

You see, it just wasn’t fair.

Ever since the day that you’d confessed you were a virgin, Eddie had been consumed with a burning desire to be your first.

But he never tried to rush you. He could be patient.

He had denied himself for so long, edging himself for two whole years with the belief, no, the knowledge, that he would be the one.

He would get painfully hard just thinking about the first time he’d push inside, how you’d feel so tight and warm around his cock.

At times the temptation to give in and tell you how he felt had almost been too strong, but he’d held himself back, not wanting to lose your trust. You only saw him as a friend. What if you got upset and never spoke to him again? He couldn’t bear the thought.

He knew eventually you’d come around and realize he was the one. He just had to be patient and bide his time.

But now you had a date? Someone else might get that honor after years of him getting to know you and building your trust? No, no, no.

Who was this Bobby guy, anyway?

You’d told Eddie that he was a business major and in his final year of college. Eddie had never heard of him before, and he knew everyone in town. Was Bobby even his real name?

He sounded like a jerk, like a real asshole, and Eddie would be damned if Bobby thought you were his to take.

That Friday night you paced your small apartment fretting over your date the next evening.

Bobby was so handsome and charming. You imagined that he’d probably dated women who were much more experienced than you. What if things went well and he wanted to fool around? Would you even have the first clue what to do?

You wished there was a way to just magically know how to be good in bed.

The only books you’d found in the library were either very clinical or bodice rippers that used so many euphemisms you weren’t even sure what body parts they were talking about in the end. What the hell was a “hidden cavern” supposed to be anyway?

Eventually your mind drifted to the videos you’d found under Eddie’s bed. They were the closest thing you could think of to a sex how-to guide.

You supposed it couldn’t hurt to try.

In the grip of desperation, you decided to pay your best friend a visit.

Before you arrived, Eddie had been locked in his bedroom listening to very loud metal - totally not because he was upset about your date - so it took him a few minutes to hear you knocking and open the door.

When he did, you noticed his eyes looked a little red and puffy, but you didn’t have time to ask him what was wrong.

You cut right to the chase.

“Eddie, I’d like to borrow your porn.”

He almost choked. “Come again?”

“I know you have…videos. And I’m not going to Family Video to rent one from your friend Steve. Can I borrow one, please?”

“What…makes you think I have those types of videos?” he stammered.

“I saw them,” you confessed. “I’m sorry. I found them under your bed.”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His perfect best friend had found his stash of porn while snooping through his room.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t even upset that you’d gone through his private things. His cock twitched at the thought of an angel like you seeing such depraved filth. You were so sweet — had you really held his copy of Cum Guzzlers 4 in your perfect hands?

He felt weak in the knees.

“But why do you want to watch something like that?” He was genuinely curious. The request was completely out of character for you.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” you cried throwing your hands in the air. “I was hoping if I watched one before my date it might…help.”

Eddie stared at you for a moment, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. The thought of you watching dirty videos sounded like a dream, but your reason for wanting to was not.

“Ok,” he relented. “I’ll let you watch one, but on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

You couldn’t think of what he could possibly want in return.

“You have to watch it with me.” When he spoke, you noticed Eddie’s eyes looked darker than when he’d first answered the door.

You bit your lip as you considered his offer. You weren’t sure why he wanted you to stay, but you reasoned it might be nice to have him there if you had any questions.

“Fine.” You shrugged, and he moved to let you walk through the door.

You followed him into his bedroom and sat primly at the edge of the mattress while he kneeled to rifle underneath the bed.

He muttered to himself as he sorted through the videos, finally deciding on one and holding it up with a devilish smirk plastered across his face.

“This’ll do.”

He slid the tape out of its case and popped it into the VCR before turning to look at where you sat uncomfortable and rigid on the bed.

“You ok?” he asked quietly, as he settled next to you. He made sure to press the side of his thigh against yours. It didn’t feel right asking you to cuddle considering what you were about to watch.

You nodded and took a deep, calming breath.

The video started with a woman answering the door of what looked like an apartment. Her breasts were almost obscenely pushed up in her top and her skirt was barely existent. You scoffed at her unrealistic outfit. Nobody just walked around the house in a getup like that, did they?

You looked over at Eddie, who was watching intently. He didn’t seem bothered by her impractical wardrobe.

In the movie, there was a delivery man at the door and they must have known each other, because soon their clothing was off and the fun began.

You stared with wide eyes at the screen, unable to look away as the man and woman engaged in acts that you’d never imagined in your wildest dreams.

For some reason you’d always pictured sex the way it was shown on TV in soap operas — strategically covered bodies moving together as they made love under satin sheets. But this was raw. This was fucking. And you couldn’t look away.

As the woman in the movie knelt down to give the delivery man a blowjob, Eddie snuck a sideways glance over at you. He imagined what it would be like to have you kneeling down before him, your soft eyes looking up at him while you wrapped your pretty lips around his—

“How does she fit all of that in her mouth?” you whispered with horrified curiosity.

“Where there’s a will there’s a way, I guess?” he joked uncomfortably, thanking his lucky stars that his voice didn’t break and betray him. Shit, he was getting so hard.

Eventually you started to become uncomfortable, but not because you didn’t like the movie. It was because you liked it. Really liked it.

You could feel your pussy getting wet. Dripping. Aching. You wanted so badly to sneak out of Eddie’s room and touch yourself in the privacy of his bathroom, but you knew he’d probably catch on to what you were doing.

He must have noticed you squirming because he finally hit pause on the remote.

The man in the video had started to perform oral sex on the woman, and the paused display was a frozen image of his face buried in her pussy.

“What’s wrong?” Eddie asked, his voice sounding thicker than usual.

“Um, nothing,” you squeaked, rubbing your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure that was driving you to distraction.

“Do you want me to turn it off?” Eddie’s eyes were filled with concern but you shook you head.

“No. I like it. It’s just…”

He smiled knowingly and raised an eyebrow.

“It’s okay if you’re turned on. That’s kind of the point.”

“I know…” You smiled shyly and looked down at your hands. “I guess I just didn’t expect to like it quite this much…especially…what they’re doing right now.”

Eddie almost died right then and there, but he had to recover quickly. The situation with you was delicate and he needed to play his cards just right.

He knew this was his last chance before he lost you to Bobby forever, and he was so close.

He could feel it.

“Yeah, it’s very hot,” he agreed smoothly, making sure his voice remained casual. “Feels even better than it looks, or so I hear.”

“Yeah?” You didn’t sound convinced. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Eating pussy? Yeah, lots of times.” He grinned.

“Oh.”

You felt a strange sensation grow in the pit of your stomach at his admission. You didn’t like the idea of Eddie doing that with anyone.

Suddenly your mind conjured up the image of Eddie’s face looking up from between your thighs, his plush lips slick and shiny with your release.

You tried to will yourself not to get distracted.

“The movie’s fine, but I don’t think it’s what I needed. I mean…it’s just not very realistic.”

You shrugged and went to stand up. “Maybe I should go.”

“No!” Eddie put a hand on your arm. He hadn’t meant to sound so alarmed, but he was desperate for you to stay.

“This might sound a bit out there, but what if I helped you out instead?” he offered.

Your eyes went wide.

“Help me? How?”

“Well, maybe I could show you some things — just as a friend,” he quickly added. “You know, like research. Help you figure out what you like. Plus, I can give you my professional opinion.”

“Professional?” You laughed, but then furrowed your brows. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? We’re friends, won’t it make it weird?”

Eddie pretended to thoughtfully consider your words, pushing down the exquisite hope that was blooming in his chest.

“You trust me, right?” he asked softly. “Who better to help you out than your best friend? Would you really rather wait for a stranger?”

He placed a finger under your chin to force you to look up and meet his gaze. Your head suddenly felt a bit fuzzy, and all you could think was that no, you supposed you wouldn’t.

“Ok,” you yielded with a soft exhale. “But how’s it supposed to work?”

He kept his finger on your chin, his dark eyes burning into yours.

“First, you need to learn to ask for what you want.”

You hesitated, unsure of what to say.

“Tell me,” he coaxed. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know…” you said haltingly. “I guess…I want you to do that.” You gestured at the frozen TV screen.

“You want me to eat your pussy?” His voice was a low, thick rasp. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Without another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, soft at first and then deeper, his tongue dancing over yours as his hand gently gripped your chin.

When he finally pulled back, you noticed a rosy flush had spread across the tops of his cheeks.

You were at a loss for words. The kiss had sparked a yearning deep inside that you’d buried for so long.

And where had Eddie learned to kiss like that?

“Sorry,” he said with a soft chuckle as he met your longing gaze. “Just felt like maybe we should start out slow before jumping right to business.”

“No…that’s good…that’s ok,” you stammered. “We should probably pretend that it’s real…for research purposes.”

“Right.” Eddie’s eyes went wide as he stared into yours. “Then I guess this is normally when I’d start to take off your clothes. Is that ok?”

You nodded and he helped you lift your shirt off over your head, leaving you sitting in just your bra. It must have been a new one because Eddie didn’t recognize it. The sheer lace of the cups hugged your breasts just right, and the sight momentarily took his breath away.

He had pictured your tits so many times, but seeing them up close was better than he could have imagined. He reached out to cup one in his hand, gently squeezing it a few times.

“Yeah, your boobs…they’re good. Professionally speaking.”

You giggled at Eddie’s dazed expression, which caused your breasts to bounce in the delicate lace. His hungry eyes followed their jiggly movement.

You went to stand up from the bed to take off your skirt but he stopped you, prompting you to sit back down.

Eddie had spent two whole years fantasizing about that very moment, and he wanted to be the one to unwrap his present.

“Let me do it, okay?”

Wasting no time, he swiftly got down before you, placing one of his big hands on each of your knees. You couldn’t help but shiver in anticipation of what you knew was coming.

“You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it, ok?”

His big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was kneeling on the floor and a warm feeling swelled inside your chest.

Eddie was so beautiful and such a good friend. In that moment you could almost forget that he was only trying to help you out. It felt so real.

You took a deep breath and nodded to signal you were ready. Then you leaned back, propped up on your elbows so you could watch.

Eddie pushed your skirt up in soft folds around your waist, then gently coaxed your knees apart.

He had to bite back a groan at the sight of you spread out before him. Your panties were already soaked and the thin strip of wet silk was wedged between the puffy lips of your pussy. He remembered that pair. They were one of his favorites.

“Just going to take these off,” he told you, willing his voice to remain steady. He ran a finger over the silky crotch, making sure to press down over your clit, and was rewarded with a soft moan.

He worked your panties down your legs and then shoved them under his bed for safe keeping. As he nudged your thighs apart, he marveled at the sight of your bare pussy, wet and glistening before him.

“Is it—what do you think? Professionally?” you asked breathlessly.

Eddie had gotten so wrapped up in the moment that he’d almost forgotten that he was supposed to be helping you out.

“It’s fucking perfect, sweetheart. Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

And he wasn’t lying. You were perfect.

He gently spread your folds to reveal your swollen clit, his fingertips gliding with delicious friction over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Aww, she’s just aching,” he cooed, his voice mockingly sweet. You could feel his warm breath fan over you as he moved closer.

He couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and flicking his tongue over it just once, just the slightest graze, and you let out a broken whine and writhed beneath his touch.

He inhaled deeply. Your scent was intoxicating.

Keeping his eyes on yours, he wrapped his plush lips around your clit, then started to flick his tongue over it in a steady rhythm.

You gasped and gripped his wrinkled bedsheets, holding on for dear life. It felt so good — better than anything you’d ever known.

Eddie’s mouth was so warm and wet, and the way he was looking up at you with devotion, made the ache inside of you start to grow to an almost overwhelming peak.

Eddie was in heaven.

He buried his face in your pussy, drinking in your delicious taste and scent. He’d dreamed of eating you out so many times that he almost wanted to pinch himself to make sure it was real; that he wasn’t going to wake up lying in bed with your stolen panties on his face to find it was all a dream.

With one hand keeping your lips spread open so he could suckle at your clit, he slid one of the fingers of his other hand into your dripping entrance. Slowly, carefully.

He chuckled when you gasped at the feeling of it stretching you open.

“Think you can take another one?” His voice was a low grumble against your pussy.

“Yes, Eddie. Please,” you whined.

He inserted a second finger, almost shuddering at how tightly you squeezed them. He just knew you were going to feel so good around his cock.

Soon the only sounds in the room were the wet schlick of your pussy, and your soft moans as they floated through the air.

Eddie pulled back a moment to spit on your folds, and watched it drip down slowly, mixing with your creamy release.

He laid his tongue flat and wide as he lapped it up and you whimpered. You fucking whimpered and he felt it to his core. Nobody but him had ever heard that sound before, he just knew it.

Eddie’s cock throbbed in his pants, straining uncomfortably tight against the seam, so he took his hand away from where he was holding you open, and pulled the zipper down.

He gave himself a few slow tugs, knowing he needed to take his time if he wanted to make the moment last.

Even in your blissful state you’d heard the unmistakable rustle of his zipper.

“Are you — are you touching yourself?” you asked breathlessly.

“Mmm…yeah.” Eddie’s voice was ragged as it vibrated against your pussy, and you could feel the gentle rock of his body as he started to thrust into his hand.

The knowledge that he was stroking his cock while eating you out was enough to cause the already intense pleasure inside you to crest.

“Oh…oh god,” you moaned and your legs started to shake. “Eddie, please don’t stop.”

And he didn’t.

Eddie was normally vocal in bed, and he wanted nothing more than to beg for you to cum. To tell you that he needed to taste your sweetness on his tongue. But he didn’t.

He kept going, not pausing his rhythmic licking and sucking for even one second until you cried out that you were cumming, and even then he didn’t stop until you pushed his head and hand away.

Only then did he finally pull back, his chin shiny with your slick.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he purred.

He stood up, cock still in hand and you watched as he continued to stroke himself standing over you. You left your legs spread open, his tall form caged between your thighs, staring down at the sweetest view he’d ever seen.

He gazed at you with naked adoration, his chest heaving and his cock hard and throbbing in his hand.

As you watched Eddie stroke himself, you suddenly felt a new sense of power, one that you’d never felt before. The power of knowing that he desired you that much. The power that you’d made him lose control.

You knew in that moment that you’d been right all along. You hadn’t just imagined all those times when he touched you or stared a bit too long.

Eddie was a perv, but he was your perv.

“Oh fuck…I’m gonna cum. Shit…can I see your tits?”

You giggled as you unclasped your bra and let your breasts bounce free, your nipples quickly becoming taut peaks in the cool air of the room.

The sight was too much for Eddie.

He groaned loudly, his shoulders shrugging and almost collapsing in on himself as came in hot spurts over your pussy and stomach and thighs, painting your skin with his warm release.

“I want you to think about this when you’re on your little date.” He gasped, still breathless. “Even if you’re out with him this pussy belongs to me.”

Your mouth curled into a sly smile as you nodded. In that moment you knew that, to the contrary, Eddie Munson belonged to you.

The next morning you called Bobby and cancelled your date, using the excuse that you had too much research and studying to do.

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

After hanging up the phone, you walked back to Eddie’s bedroom, and stood in the doorway as he smiled up at you from the bed.

“Ready for our next lesson?”

You raised an eyebrow at the metalhead and shook your head in amusement. He was insatiable.

The hours may have been long and tiring, but with Eddie as your teacher you found you were a very eager student.

Thank you for reading ♥️

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Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

[steamystrangerfics]

From a psychological pov, I think, that people are taking Billy (even other characters from everywhere) and adding to their “past” “present” or “future” based on nothing in the lore simply because of trauma they themselves have been through. And either that person wants to express how it makes/ made them feel or give themselves a better ending.

This is why I don’t dismiss when fellow writers do this to any fics because we never know WHY they are doing it. Writing is a form of therapy, not everyone is comfortable speaking to a counselor. I’ve seen that go nowhere with a few people.

But writing, or doing anything really, behind this closed platform here with a username. Fanfics are about a story already, I can’t take a story that triggered me and added in what’s bothering me, without talking about real names or places.

Sometimes just talking it out helps. Hidden or irl.

If you or someone you know needs to talk my ask is always open with no judgements.

If anyone ever has to talk about a police matter such as sex crime, suicide, drug use, etc please call 911, 988, or any other help line or emergency number.

Have we had “Billy was an active participant in his mother’s abuse when he was yk…..like 9 or 10” as an anti take before? Is this the first one?

The actual somersaults antis will do to implicate Billy as responsible for the abuse he experienced is already wild but as a 9 year old??? Clown behaviour

[steamystrangerfics]

It’s like a full-blown addiction, but instead of drugs or booze, it’s this fictional guy who’s got her wrapped around his finger. She knows it’s fucked up—knows she’s out here daydreaming about someone who’s not even real—but who cares? This guy? He’s everything. He’s charming in the worst ways, flawed in every possible sense, but there’s just something about him that has her hooked. He doesn’t even know she exists, but she’s ready to fight anyone who says a word against him. Seriously, she’ll defend his honor like it’s a fucking life-or-death mission.

He’s a goddamn trainwreck, but he’s her trainwreck. She’ll put up with all his baggage, his emotional scars, his dark sides, because somehow, that brokenness makes him feel more real to her than any real guy could. He’s messed up, but she’ll fix him in her head every single time. Maybe it’s that thrill of knowing he’s dangerous and untouchable that makes him even more irresistible. He might break her heart in a hundred ways, but it’s the kind of heartbreak that makes her feel alive, even if it hurts like hell.

And it’s never gonna happen, right? She knows that. He’s not gonna waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet. But it doesn’t matter. Because she gets to have him on her terms—no messy reality, no awkward first dates, no risking her heart for real. He’s always there when she needs him, in that perfect little bubble of fantasy she’s built for herself. And maybe she’s a little crazy for it, but at least with him, she’s never disappointed. Every time she replays his scenes, reads the fanfics, imagines their future together—it's like a high she can never quite shake. She knows it's all just a mindfuck, but she’s never felt more alive.

[steamystrangerfics]

the tragedy of tumblr is you will inevitably meet people who you should be having a sleepover with. you should be rolling around on their floor and rummaging through their fridge and watching shitty movies with. you should be shopping with should be going out to a cafe with should be wandering through the aquarium with. people who you should be experiencing quotidian joys with... and you cannot! because they live one million miles away

[steamystrangerfics]

ONLY NEED ME - Spencer Reid x Reader

About: You were scrolling on your phone, swiping left and right on tinder to find a date. Spencer finds you scrolling on your phone and asks what you’re doing. So you tell him you are looking for someone to hookup with. He decides to show you that you don’t need anyone but him.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, oral (f), pussy drunk Spencer, jealous spencer

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: happy valentine‘s day my little sluts. although this isn’t valentine’s day themed, let’s pretend that it is lol. i hope you guys enjoy!

It was a rare day when there were no cases and yet, you were still required to come into work, just in case something happened. Usually, these days consisted of paperwork, going over recently solved cases to ensure nothing was missed and that everything had followed protocol. But for a team that is so action-based, having to do paperwork was entirely boring for everyone except Spencer, who was engrossed at his desk, the one across from yours, reading every file intently.

Meanwhile, you were sitting at your desk, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. It had been a long time since you had sex. With your line of work, it’s hard to find time to do anything outside the realm of your job. So you were doing what any normal person would do nowadays: resort to dating apps. You were scrolling on Tinder, mindlessly swiping left and right on people you thought were and weren’t attractive. You stopped at a certain profile, trying to decide if someone was cute or not and if you’d actually be willing to have them in your pants.

JJ walked past your desk and glanced at your phone. “Oh? Who’s this?” She asked, standing next to your chair.

You glanced at JJ before looking back at your phone. “Some random guy,” You said, showing her your phone. “Do you think he’s cute?”

JJ shook her head no, a small grimace on your face. “You can do much better, sweetheart,” She said, her grimace becoming a smile. “Are you finally looking to meet someone?”

You laughed, shaking your head no. “I’m just looking to get dick,” you replied bluntly, giving JJ a cheeky grin.

JJ laughed, nodding her head. “I get it,” she said, sighing. “Will and I haven’t had our alone time in weeks,” She rolled her eyes.

You pout in sympathy before swiping away the guy on your phone. “Do you want to help me look for the perfect person?” You asked.

JJ nodded her head, grabbed a random chair, and pulled it up to your desk. “Hell yeah, give it to me,” She grinned as she looked over your shoulder at your phone.

Unbeknownst to you and JJ, Spencer, though his attention looked as though it were on the files, had a frown on his face. To anyone, it would look as though he were deep in thought. But actually, it was due to listening in on your conversation with JJ. Why did you have to resort to some stupid dating app? Shouldn’t you know better than to trust random strangers on the internet? That’s like kind of what your job is about. Spencer felt a gross feeling in his chest, something he hadn’t felt before. Perhaps he’s been attracted to you since you joined the team some time ago and the idea of you seeking someone else for pleasure made him jealous. Not that he’d actively admit that.

As you and JJ sat there, talking and giggling with one another about random people you see on your phone, Spener bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his attention on the files in front of him. His jaw was clenched, and his hair tousled all over the place. It wasn’t until it was finally time for everyone to go home that he could get some peace and quiet. As everyone, including you, exited the bullpen to go home, Spencer remained alone with his thoughts for a little while longer.

He thought about you going on a date with some random person. How you’d get yourself all dolled up and beautiful for some random loser who likely wouldn’t even know where the clitoris is. Spencer may not have the most experience in the world but he definitely knows where the clitoris is located. He groaned to himself, realizing that his jealousy was consuming him. He rubbed his eyes before sitting back in his chair. And then, Spencer came to a sudden realization, causing him to quickly stand up and grab his satchel before leaving the Bureau.

You were in your apartment, sitting on your couch as you looked through the television channels. You were dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, your hair mostly dry but still a bit damp from the shower you took when you had gotten home from work. You were originally going to see about possibly going on a date tonight but instead, you opted to stay home, too exhausted to really want to go out and meet anyone.

You didn’t particularly care to actually date anyone. Your desires are always laid elsewhere, with a very specific coworker you had. And unfortunately, you could not have this specific coworker as it would break so many Bureau rules. But you were allowed to have your thoughts, thank you very much. And if those thoughts included thinking of Spencer pounding into you and whispering praises into your ear then that was your own volition.

It was currently eight o’clock in the evening when there was a knock on your apartment door. You glanced at the clock before standing up from the couch and walking to the door. You looked out of the peephole, seeing Spencer standing there looking a bit disheveled. You opened the door, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion as you looked at the brown-haired man in front of you. “Spencer…?” You asked. “What are you-”

“You know, some people use dating apps to target potential victims for violence or sexual assault,” Spencer interrupted you. “Which is why you shouldn’t use dating apps.”

Your look of confusion remained on your face. “You know, that could’ve been a text,” you replied sarcastically.

Spencer bit his lip, looking at you. “Maybe,” he replied. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. You were always so beautiful at work, dressed in mostly professional, sometimes casual clothing with light makeup on your face. But right now, you were ethereal. Dressed in lounging clothes with your hair perfectly natural and no makeup on your face. At that moment, Spencer didn’t understand why you even bothered to get yourself dressed up each day when you were perfect just the way you were.

“Why are you here?” You asked softly, noticing the way Spencer was looking at you. You didn’t question it, however.

Spencer remained silent for a few seconds, trying to think of a proper response to give you. He hadn’t completely thought this through when he made the sudden decision to visit you. Finally, he spoke, “Do you want me to leave?”

You shook your head. “No!” You responded immediately. “I just- I’m surprised you’re here is all.” You bit your lip nervously. You hadn’t invited Spencer in yet and that had suddenly dawned on you. You moved to the side, allowing Spencer to step inside before closing the door behind him. You leaned against the door, looking at Spencer as he turned to look at you.

“You shouldn’t resort to dating apps,” He spoke. You furrowed your eyebrows at Spencer, confused as to why he would come here just to tell you that. Just as you were about to respond, Spencer cut you off by speaking once more. “Not when I could help you.”

“What?” Your voice came out more hoarse than you intended.

Spencer cleared his throat, the only sign that his confidence had slightly diminished. “If you need someone to pleasure you, you don’t need to use dating apps when I’m right here,” he said again, rewording his earlier statement.

“Are you saying you want to have sex with me, Spencer?” You whispered, biting your bottom lip.

Spencer moved closer to you until he was right in front of you. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” he murmured, licking his lips. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yes,” you stuttered.

Spencer nodded his head. A silence overcame the two of you before he spoke again, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Okay,” you responded.

Spencer leaned in and gently kissed your lips. It was nervous and hesitant, as if unsure if you’d actually want to kiss him or not. But when you kissed him back, Spencer became more sure of himself as he kissed you deeply. He brought his hands to your cheeks, cupping them. The two of you moved in sync, kissing one another slowly. Eventually, Spencer pulled away slightly to look into your eyes as you stared back at him. The gaze the two of you had held a hunger that neither of you had admitted to yourselves in the entire time you’d been working together.

Spencer kissed you again, this time more roughly and hungrily. A soft noise escaped your lips from the roughness but it wasn’t unwelcome whatsoever. As the two of you kissed, you gently pushed him around the apartment to try and get to the bedroom. Spencer accidentally bumped into a side table, causing a vase to fall to the ground but luckily it didn’t break. “Whoops,” he said, pulling away from the kiss to look at it.

You put a hand on his chin. “Don’t worry about it,” you said as you pulled his face back to yours. The two of you continued moving throughout the apartment until you reached your bedroom. Spencer’s lips left yours and began kissing your jawline, making his way down to your neck. His touch was like feathers as he lightly kissed along your skin. His lips brushed against your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine and causing you to clench your thighs. An action that wasn’t missed by Spencer.

“Needy?” He asked against your skin.

You nodded your head. “Very,” you whispered.

Spencer let out a hum as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt. He slowly pulled the material up, moving his head away from your neck so he could pull it off of you and tossing it to the side. You weren’t wearing a bra and Spencer couldn’t help but just look at you. “Can I touch you?” He breathed out, eyes locked on your tits.

“Yes, please,” You replied breathily.

He didn’t hesitate to use both of his hands to massage your tits, feeling the flesh in his hands. He thumbed your nipples, causing you to moan softly at the feeling. “You know, some women can orgasm just from having their nipples stimulated,” he murmured, eyes fixated on your breasts.

You let out a small laugh. “I don’t think I’m one of those people,” you exclaimed.

Spencer let out a hum as he leaned down and captured one of your nipples into his mouth. The action caused you to let out a whine as he tongued the nub, his hands still massaging your boobs. He moved to the other nipple, doing the exact same thing. Your cheeks were warm as felt the sparks of pleasure being sent down your spine. Eventually, Spencer pulled away, pressing gentle kisses along your chest before returning up your neck and to your lips.

He guided you to your mattress, sitting you down at the edge of the bed as he pulled away from you. You looked up at Spencer, watching Spencer as he got on his knees in front of you. “Do you want me to continue?” He asked softly.

You licked your lips, nodding your head. “Yes, please,” you murmured.

And that’s all Spencer needed to put his hands on the waistband of your sweatpants and pull them down, tossing the material to the side. You weren’t wearing underwear underneath, causing Spencer to let out a soft hum of approval. “I want to taste you,” he said, looking at you with his puppy brown eyes.

“Please do.” You whispered, biting your lip as you spread your legs for Spencer, revealing your cunt to him.

He let out a groan, his eyes immediately moving to look at your glistening pussy. Without hesitation, Spencer dived in, licking a strip down your slit and then back up, causing you to moan. Spencer hummed against your cunt, his eyes fluttering closed as he tasted you. His tongue began lapping around in figure-eights, teasing your clit with each flick. If you had told yourself that your night would end up with Spencer on his knees, eating you out, you would’ve laughed. And yet, here you were.

Spencer made out with your cunt, his lips moving against your pussy like you were the sustenance he needed to live. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking on the nub. You let out a loud moan, bringing your hand to Spencer’s hair and tugging on his curls. The action alone caused Spencer to whimper against your cunt as it encouraged him more.

You were whining and moaning, relishing in the pleasure Spencer was giving you. No one had gone down on you in so long and you had almost forgotten what it had felt like. But Spencer? He was built for this. His face was sculpted to eat pussy. If you could live with Spencer’s head between your thighs for the rest of your life, you think you’d die a happy woman.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered, throwing your head back. Spencer hummed against your pussy, his tongue dipping into your hole while his nose rubbed against your clit. He was breathing in your cunt, drunk on your juices. You could feel yourself getting closer, causing you to buck your hips. “I’m gonna cum,” you whined. With a slurp to your clit, you gasped and let out a choked moan, thighs clamping against Spencer’s face as you arched your back. “Spencer!” you moaned his name as you came.

And when you finished, Spencer pulled away from your pussy. His face was glistening with your juices as he looked at you with a smirk. “You’re so beautiful,” he said huskily as he gently rubbed your thighs. “Did I do good?”

“So good,” you breathed out, smiling at Spencer.

“Then you don’t need anyone else, right?” He asked, standing up.

“I only need you, baby.” You replied, looking up at Spencer with a dazed look. “Now fuck me.”

Spencer grinned, undressing himself before crawling onto you. “Gladly.”

And after that, you begin a new journey with Spencer where you explore each other’s bodies. Why do you need to use dating apps when all you need is Spencer?

[steamystrangerfics]

Awwwww ♥️♥️♥️♥️

steddie but eddie is somehow transferred to the real world in 2025 and runs into joe keery and he's like "STEVE thank god what the fuck happened where are we" and joe keery thinks it's joseph quinn wearing the eddie costume again and doing a bit and then they fall in love

[steamystrangerfics]

Guys. Ladies. Beings of the interwebs.

My background phone screen is the Killian jones photo that I have as my icon.

Tell me why I just booped his nose.

So gently too. Like it fking meant something.

I’ve been so delusional recently about everything. And I just open my phone, look into this photos eyes and slowly boop his not real life nose.

[steamystrangerfics]

indifferent [s.h.] 18+

an: heyyyy me again so yeah could not stop thinking about a pathetic steve so here we are!! enjoy and feel free to send suggestions, concepts, or just chat!!

side note i listened to i wanna be yours by arctic monkeys on a loop while writing this so do with thag what you will!

masterlist here!!

summary: you and steve are coworkers and while you try (and fail) to act like he doesn’t exist, he’s a little obsessed with you and would do anything to have your attention

(fem!reader x steve harrington)

warnings: angst, fluff, cursing, public teasing (nothing too crazy), jealous reader, dirty talk, f masturbation, fingering, biting, kissing, spit, handjob MDNI!!!!!

wc: 15.5k

When it came to Steve Harrington, you were indifferent. 

You didn’t fall in with the group of girls who fawned over him like some king, worshiping the ground he walked on and giggling at his attempts at jokes. But you didn’t fall in with the other group either. The ones that hated him, that called him names and rolled their eyes when he walked in the room with a smile on his face. 

So you fell somewhere in the middle. To you Steve Harrington was your coworker, someone you often had to pick up the slack for or cover for when he was running late. You wouldn’t call him a friend but wouldn’t say he was your enemy either. 

The arrangement the two of you had worked well for you. You’d cover for him or save his ass when needed, and in turn he’d leave you alone. Well sometimes he would. You didn’t mind him but sometimes it seemed like he could go on forever and you just…it drove you a little crazy, okay? He was good about leaving you be, making small talk for a little before the both of you quieted down and went about your shift. 

Part of this arrangement was you teasing him until his cheeks burned and his felt fuzzy, but that was neither here nor there. 

But sometimes you think he just couldn’t help it. He’d start going on about something and then it would be 45 minutes later and he’d still be going. You let him do this about once or twice a week. You didn’t mind him or his company, so if it made him happy to ramble on every once in a while you could live with that. He was a yapper and you were quiet. You would hum along to something you’d heard on the way to work and entertain his chit chat for a few minutes but that was really it. 

Did that mean you couldn’t appreciate that he was actually really pretty? Of course not! He had dimples that made him seem boyish and sweet, even when he was being a menace. His hair was perfect, especially after he’d spent the day running his hands through it a million and one times. His lips were pouty and pink and so what if you stared at them when he was droning on about something? A perfect nose that you’d admired the slope of more times than you could count when he was sitting beside you going through returns. 

He was pretty. You wouldn’t deny that. But that was it. No more, no less. It didn’t mean you liked him or wanted him or would fall to your knees for him like half of Hawkins did. Sure, you passed the time at work by teasing him and making him squirm, but it was only because you were bored and he was there, all pretty and willing. 

You were indifferent. 

              ****************************************

Steve liked you. 

If you were in the same room as him he couldn’t help but to watch you. He didn’t know if you saw him and he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d watch the way you’d tuck your hair behind your ear once every few minutes. He’d watch you scrunch your nose when you were reading and pout your rosy lips when sorting through dvd’s. God you were just so pretty. 

He wanted your attention all the time, he craved it. He knew he looked like a little lovesick puppy the way he followed you around and hoped you’d smile at him or indulge his ramblings every now and then. 

Pathetic. That’s what he was when it came to you. Sometimes you were a little mean to him but he liked it, loved anything you’d give him. He would even show up late on purpose sometimes just to hear you scold him! 

“M’not always gonna be here to cover for you, Harrington. Be a big boy and get to work on time.”

His cheeks would be pink and he’d give you a shy smile, promising this was the last time but you both knew better than to believe that. You didn’t put up with his bullshit, you called him out when he needed it and you didn’t try and act like somebody you weren’t around him. He loved it. 

Like today, you’d barely come in the door before he was on your heels, going on about some party from the weekend before and how it was sooo lame and that he didn’t have any fun. He’s so occupied with his rambling he doesn’t realize you’ve stopped until he slams into your back, hands coming up to grip your shoulders so you don’t both fall over. 

Your hands grip the counter just in time and he expects you to turn around and gripe at him, scolding him like a toddler who’d been on your heels but you don’t. You huff a laugh and playfully shove at his shoulder, shaking your head. 

“Jesus, Harrington. Maybe I need to get you a leash, hm?” 

And maybe Steve likes that a little too much because he can feel the tips of his ears burning and blush working its way up his neck and covering his cheeks in a pink that makes him squirm. 

He watched you quirk an eyebrow at him, a knowing smirk on those lips he’s dreamed about for months and he wonders why he’s not more embarrassed, why his heart is racing and his cock is swelling in his pants. Fuck.

“On second thought, I think maybe you’d like that a little too much.” 

              *************************************

One thing you love about working with Steve is teasing him. You’ve done good to not let him get too close to you, staying neutral when it comes to his antics but you can’t help the giddiness you feel watching him blush and squirm when you’re mean to him. You’ve come to learn he likes when you embarrass him. 

You’re embarrassed to admit it makes you feel a little powerful, a little special when you make him this way. He’s not the big, bad, ‘King Steve’ he was in high school when he’s in front of you, oh no. You think he’s quite pathetic the way he’s practically attached to your hip and you relish in the way he hangs onto every word you give him, especially considering you don’t give him much. 

Like today you’re perched on a stool at the cash register, barely working oscillating fan doing little to cool you down when the ac is shitty, pushing around warm air that makes your thighs stick together and leaves a sheen of sweat on your forehead. You hate the heat, but what you don’t hate is the way Steve’s eyes are glued to your thighs, watching closely every time you readjust or a bead of sweat slides down your leg. 

“Careful, Steve, I won't be happy if you drool on my leg.” That snaps him out of it, shoulders thrown back as he whips his head up to your face and oh yep! There’s those red cheeks you’ve come to like so much. 

He opens his mouth to say something, probably nothing that would make sense but you spare him from trying to explain his wandering eyes, reaching down into your bag to pull out your next bit of entertainment for the day. 

This’ll be good.

Out of the corner of your eye you see him watching you closely and you can’t help the smirk you wear when your fingers find what you were looking for, wrapping around it and pulling it out for Steve to see. You don’t miss the way his lips part or the way he grips the counter in front of you. 

“They’re my favorite,” you wave the cherry blow pop in front of you like you’ve found gold, smirking at the way his eyes follow it through the air, “I only have the one but I can share, I guess.” 

It would be rude of you to not offer him any. You might tease and be mean, but you certainly weren’t rude!

Ripping the wrapper off you waste no time, sticking the sweet treat in your cheek, throwing away the trash and swinging your legs around so you’re face to face with Steve, knees pressed against his as your feet dangle off the stool. 

Maybe you could blame the way you make a show out of it on the lack of customers today. You’ve been here for 4 hours and only a handful of people have come in. Yeah, that’ll do. That’s why you pull it from your mouth with a pop that makes him flinch, lolling your tongue around the candy in a way that makes his eyes glaze over. You can hear him gulp when you hollow your cheeks and close your eyes, pretending like the taste of artificial cherry is what’s making your ears buzz and your heart race. 

Dragging the blow pop from your mouth you gasp, letting your tongue swipe against your bottom lip that you’re sure is shiny with spit. “Oh, where are my manners! Here ya go, Harrington, have a lick.” 

Not giving him a second to react, you surge forward, pushing the sucker against his lips before he has the chance to open, smearing the stickiness and your spit around his mouth and smiling wide at the sight of him, a tint of red around his pouty lips that suits him well. 

“Messy boy, aren’t you?” You swipe your thumb over his lips, collecting some of the mess and you can see the way his tongue peaks out and you know he’s dying to let it touch your thumb. You pull back before he can, popping your thumb in your mouth and humming around it as if it’s the blow pop itself. 

“Told you I could share!” 

You could be indifferent to him and still want to make him melt to his knees for you, right? 

             **************************************

Steve thought about the cherry blow pop incident for weeks. He was surprised he didn’t cum in his pants like a teenager when the spit soaked treat touched his lips or when he watched you suck on your thumb after it swiped across his mouth. 

That was just one example of how you tortured him, how he loved it. He’d had to go home that night and barely made it through the front door before he was pulling his cock out and picturing you on your knees in front of him, teasing him for being a “messy boy.” 

You had no idea. 

This shit would happen, these events that Steve was positive were chemically altering his brain chemistry, and he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you? You’d do something like that, something so hot it was engraved in his mind forever and then five minutes later it would be as though it never happened. You’d smirk at him, go back to what you were doing and spend the rest of the day ignoring him or giving him one word responses while he begged at your feet for a scrap of attention. 

He really was like a puppy. 

So he was confused, beyond confused on if you were friends, if you wanted him…he just didn’t know what to make of it. He hadn’t seen you act this way with anyone else and it made him feel…special. God he was pathetic. 

The problem with all this was that he wasn’t entirely sure you didn’t hate his guts. I mean yeah, you’d tease and scold him when he was being an idiot and you were mean but never cruel or malicious. But you also never really went out of your way to start a conversation, never really cared to keep one up with him either. You rarely smiled at him, which killed him, because he saw the way you’d laugh at something Robin said or the amusement dancing in your eyes when the kids came in to raise hell. You never let him have it though, and fuck he wishes you would. All he got were teasing smirks and he wasn’t complaining about them, not one bit, but he wanted to see if he could make you all sweet and mushy like everyone else did. 

There’s been a few times he’s caught you staring but you never back down, never look embarrassed to have been watching him and he wonders if you were staring so hard to put a curse on his bloodline or something! He wouldn’t mind if you were, the feel of your eyes on him somewhat satiate the craving he has for you. 

He’s thinking about you again, just like always. In fact he’s so deep in thought, leaned forward letting his chin rest in his palm that for once he doesn’t notice you come up behind him. 

He wishes he would have noticed you because then maybe he could have prepared himself to talk you and then maybe he wouldn’t have fucked everything up the way he did. Maybe it would’ve gone differently and ended without you in tears and him feeling the world's biggest douche bag. 

“Dreamin’ about me, Harrington?” 

“Aren’t I always.” He meant for it to come out teasing—but it didn’t. Now you were staring at him and he was staring out the window, the tips of his ears burning and he wished he could swallow his own tongue. 

“Anyways, any chance you’ll cover my shift this Friday?” 

“Why? Where are you going?” Full on pouting now he finally met your gaze. You never missed a shift, in fact you were the only one that anyone could count on to pick up extra shifts. 

“Who are you, my daddy?” 

His fingers twitched on the counter in front of him and neither of you missed the way his throat bobbed. Jesus Christ you made him crazy. “If you must know, I have a date and Friday is the only day that works.” 

Wait—what? You had a date? With someone who was not him. Based on the way his heart dropped to his ass, he realized he might want far more than just your attention. His throat clogged as he looked at you, waiting as patiently as possible for his answer but fuck a date? You’d never gone on one as long as he’d known you—well that he knew of. 

“But…you don’t go on dates.” 

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Oh he was fucked now. He’d opened his big mouth and pissed you off—not in the way he’d liked either. “Well I just, I just meant I’ve never seen anyone ask yo—I didn’t think anyone…or you…I’ve never seen you go on one so I just figured you didn’t.” His foot could not get any further down his throat. He was fucking this up royally, but he was flustered! The pretty girl he liked was going out with someone, god knows who, and his feelings were a little hurt, even if he didn’t have the right! 

“Forget it.” Any amusement you’d held towards him vanished, something else passed over you that he recognized as hurt and then anger. Lots of anger. 

“Wait! M’sorry, I didn’t mean it like tha—”

“No you wait, Harrington. I don’t care what you think or what you think you know, it’s none of your business. I didn’t ask for you to question whether it was possible someone could like me enough to take me out, I asked if you’d cover my shift. Which—by the way—is not a big ask considering I cover your ass at least two times a week! But forget it, asshole, I’m sure my date was a fluke anyways, right?” 

Before he could apologize or even blink you’d stormed away, slamming the break room door behind you. Shit he was an idiot! A huge, massive, blubbering idiot who’d made you more mad than he’d ever seen. His words got all jumbled around you anyways let alone when he was jealous over someone else getting to take you out. 

He’d fucked up big time and was just sure you were cursing his bloodline now. 

                 *********************************

Big, angry tears rolled down your cheeks in the employee bathroom you’d locked yourself in for the last twenty minutes. You were pissed, livid even, but more than that you were hurt. Which was only making you more mad, because why the hell did Steve Harrington have the power to hurt your feelings! He wasn’t anyone to you but a coworker, maybe an acquaintance, and yet here you were crying in the bathroom at work because he…what? Didn’t think you were pretty enough or cool enough or—whatever he fuckin’ thought—to date? 

Okay, sure he didn’t say that exactly, but how else were you supposed to take his blubbering. And yeah, for the most part you were quiet and reserved and didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have feelings for godsake. 

At the end of the day Steve was a guy, a cute guy that you’d admired for his beauty and wouldn’t deny that he was overall sweet and kind, and you were a girl, a girl who apparently was not meant for dates. 

And that hurts your feelings more than you’d care to admit. 

A knock on the door had you wiping at your cheeks furiously, though at this point nothing would be able to hide your red cheeks and swollen eyes. “Who is it?” You cringed at how your voice sounded cracked and whiny. 

“It’s Robin,” Oh thank god. Thank fucking god it wasn’t Steve. “Dingus is out here looking like he’s about to have a meltdown but won’t tell me what’s up, just said you were back here and that I should come check on you.” 

Taking a deep breath you pulled the door open just enough for Robin to slip in, quickly closing it back behind her and trying not to let your bottom lip tremble when she turned to look at you and gasped. You weren’t even a crier! What was going on! 

“Woa—shit I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry. Are you okay? What happened? Did they get Steve too, he seriously looks two seconds away from curling up on the floor.” Hands immediately covering your face you sigh, willing no more tears to fall until you can get out of here and into your own bed. 

“It’s not, I just—I really don’t wanna talk about it right now, okay? Do you think you could start early and cover the rest of my shift? I promise I’ll make it up to you I just…Rob I just need to go home.” 

“Of course I can, are you crazy? There’s nothing to make up. Go! I’ll tell Harrington you’re not feeling well and he’s stuck with me for the rest of the night,” giving you a reassuring squeeze as you gathered your things you’d grabbed on the way in here you gave her what you hoped came off as a thankful smile, “and when—if—you wanna talk about this, I’m here. Just so you know. I can listen sometimes despite what they all say.” 

You nodded, squeezing her hand and giving yourself one last look in the mirror, grimacing at the utter mess you saw staring back at you. Hiking your bag on your shoulder you fled the safety of the bathroom and all but ran to the door. 

Steve was with a customer, the polite smile he had on his face completely wiped off when he caught a glimpse at your puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. You didn’t spare him one look, practically running for the door without uttering a word in his direction. 

God he felt like a piece of shit. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen you upset, let alone crying. He’d fucked up bad and didn’t know how to fix it when he’s sure you wouldn’t give him the time of day now. 

He’d have to find a way to make this better, the pit in his stomach growing when he thought of you being upset—hurt—because of him. 

He stood there staring at the door until Robin came up beside him, a concerned look on her face as she studied him. “Did she say what happened?” 

“No, she didn’t. Just said she needed to go home and didn’t want to talk about it. I’ve never seen her so upset though, I’m worried.”

He was thankful she didn’t call him out for his bullshit. It was obvious whatever happened had been between the two of you and he didn’t think he couldn’t take Robin ripping into him right now, even if he deserved it.

“Yeah, me too.” And fuck he was. 

             *************************************

3 days since Steve had made you cry. The more you thought about it, the worse you felt because if you were being honest with yourself, maybe there was a small, teeny tiny part of you that grew fond of Steve. Steve with his goofy smile and bashful grin when he’d tell you stupid jokes. 

It was one thing to be hurt because he’d been a jerk, but now you were dealing with feelings you didn’t want. You’d been hurt because you liked Steve and hearing him say…well you guess he didn’t say much, just stumbled his way through some sentences that all started pretty shitty, your feelings were all twisted up that he viewed you a certain way. 

But instead of thinking too hard about these newfound feelings you had, you chose to ignore it completely. Obviously! You didn’t have the time or energy to worry about what Steve Harrington thought of you, especially when you glance at the clock on your nightstand and shit you’re gonna be late for work! 

This is your first shift in 3 days and your stomach turns because you know you’ll be working with Steve. It also happened to be Friday, the day of your date that you had canceled in a fit of hurt and anger when you got home from your last shift. But based on how that jackass you couldn’t even remember the name of took it, you’d dodged a bullet. 

You’re pulling into Family Video before you know it, dread washing over you and it doesn’t help that the humid summer heat as your bare thighs sticking to your seat, it only adds to your frustration. You make no move to actually get out, but you know you can’t afford to miss a shift or risk this job so you get it over with, pulling yourself out and walking in before you say fuck it and head back home. 

Walking through the front doors you see him immediately, standing behind the counter with worry etched between his brows and a small frown on his face. He looks like a kicked puppy, staring you down as if you’ve wronged him. 

“You’re late.” 

You stiffen, spine straightening at his words and a string of curses are on the tip of your tongue, ready to lash out at him because how dare he. But before you get the chance he’s speaking again, effectively cutting off the tyrade you had going on your head. 

“And that’s fine, totally fine! You’re just never late so I was worried, but then again I know today’s Friday so I wasn’t sure if you’d be showing up at all…I didn’t get the chance to tell you the other day I’d already told Robin I’d cover her shift today but I talked to the boss and if you need to go you can, I can manage one night by myself, I swear!” 

You didn’t answer him, walking past and heading to the break room to hang up your things and try and mentally prepare for what was sure to be the longest shift of your life. The only thing you had going for you was that it was a Friday night, so hopefully you’d be busy and not have time to stress over being stuck with Steve. 

When you come back out he’s standing in the same spot you left him, staring around like a lost little kid waiting for someone to give him direction. Well you won't be doing it tonight. Wordlessly you take a seat on the stool, trying your best to ignore his stare burning into the side of your face. You’d snap at him if you didn’t think you’d have a meltdown. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go? I know you said tonight was the only night that would work for your date and I swear to you I can handle it. The place’ll still be standing tomorrow.” 

Maybe you should go. You could go home and lay in your bed and wallow some more, eat some ice cream and try and forget the past week had ever happened. But you couldn’t. You needed the money and you certainly weren’t gonna hide from Steve when he’s the one that fucked up. So with all the courage you can muster you turn to him, doing your best to give a blank face so he can’t see the hurt brewing behind your eyes. 

“No, Harrington. I don’t go on dates, remember?” 

            **************************************

Steve watches you turn away from him and fuck, okay he deserved that. He was a major asshole who had spent the last 3 days trying and failing to figure out how to get you to forgive him. 

Then you walk in looking so pretty that for a second he forgets that you’re mad at him, that he had fucked up. But then he sees your eyes and they look sad, detached and that kills him all over again. 

If he thought you might have disliked him before then he had no idea how good he had it! He’d give anything for you to smirk at him, to call him an idiot or to roll your eyes and pretend like you didn’t care when he rambled on, even though he could tell you did care, your eyes always gave you away. 

“Can I please just—”

“No.”

“Please, I’m begging for you to just—”

“No, Steve.” 

“But—”

“Nope.”

“Goddamnit please just let me at least try and explain myself a little bit. I know I don’t deserve it but I hurt you and I never, ever wanted to do that. Please. 5 minutes, honey. Please.” 

He thinks he’s shocked you, eyes widening the tiniest bit before you shrug at him, casting a quick look his way before you turn back around and face away from him. 

“I’m listening.” 

Doing your best to ignore the fact that he just called you honey, he’s never done that, you turn to him and shrug, trying to act indifferent but on the inside you’re dying to know what he has to say. You want to know what he really thinks even though it goes against everything you’ve ever thought or stood for. 

Jesus Christ you were the pathetic one, hoping for the reassurance of King Steve. Highschool you would absolutely kick your ass if she could see you now. 

“I’m not…good at sorting my thoughts, especially around you and the shit I said the other day came out so wrong, so not how I meant it and I just—fuck I’m sorry. I never want you to be sad or hurt because of me…or anything at all,” He didn’t even know how to properly say anything without it coming out that he just liked you so much it made him a fool! “I was not trying to suggest people didn’t want to take you out, that came out all wrong. I’m sure there’s a line of people just waiting for you to give them a chance,” I would know, I’m front and center. “But I was just surprised because I hadn’t ever heard you talk about going on dates so I guess I just assumed…I don’t know. I’m an idiot who was also maybe just a little jealous and fuck it’s not even my business what you do! The point is that I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry that I hurt your feelings, it was never my intention.” 

It had been a few minutes with neither of you saying anything, the store empty and only the buzz of the crappy ac could be heard around you as he waited for you to say something, anything. 

“Do you want me to get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness? I’ll do it, I swear. I hate you being upset with me, it fuckin’ sucks.” He couldn’t help it, his skin was crawling the longer you stayed quiet and he thinks he’d do anything to get you to not look so sad. 

He hears a small huff from you and if he was looking he’d have seen it was a small laugh of disbelief. “I may be mean but I’m not cruel, Harrington. I wouldn’t make you get on your knees on this floor.” 

Relief flooded through him and despite the humidity swirling around in the air he swore he felt cooler, lighter than he did before. “Does this mean I’m off your shit list then?” 

Your laugh was loud this time and he felt his chest swell with pride that he had been the one to cause it, even if he hadn’t meant to. 

“What makes you so sure I have a shit list?” 

“Oh come on, you definitely do.” Things felt somewhat normal again and it eased the ache in his chest that had lived there for 3 long days. Maybe this whole thing would make you guys even closer, actually make you friends. 

“Alright, maybe I do. And you’re definitely on it, but not because of what happened,” He found himself smiling at you and if he looked close enough he swore he saw a ghost of a smile on your lips before you wiped it away with the back of your hand, “but about the other day, I…you did hurt my feelings. I know, it’s shocking I have them but every once in a while I’m reminded I’m just like the rest of you, unfortunately. Look, I’ve worked with you a while and you’re sweet, Steve. You’re a good guy and when you were saying those things…I know you didn’t mean it the way it came out, but it made me feel..fuck I hate this shit. It made me feel like you thought I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough or some shit like that and it just…it fucked with me, okay? But I know you’d never be cruel like that so I forgive you. We’ll forget this happened so I don’t have to talk about my feelings anymore and we’ll be good. We are good. Fuck I’ll even admit we’re friends if we can not talk about this ever again.” 

“You think I don’t think you’re pretty or good enough?” That was all his brain could think of. How the fuck could you think that? Had he not been obvious? He all but drooled over you every time you were in his line of sight. 

“Really, Steve? That’s all you got! I just said we were friends. I'd thought you’d be over the moon.” Your eyes were looking everywhere but him and he knew you were trying to deflect. You’d just been vulnerable with him and he should move on but he couldn’t stomach you thinking you weren’t good enough or pretty enough, let alone thinking that he thought those things! 

“Honey, I’d be lucky even if you even gave me a second glance. Good enough? You’re too good for me and every other sorry prick in this town. I fuckin’ swear it. I was caught off guard and jealous. Jealous that someone else had gotten you to give them the time of day!” You looked stunned but he kept going, “And I can give you all the dirty details about how pretty you are. How I spend all day practically getting paid to stare at you, what a job! How I’ve memorized every little detail of your pretty face, how I stare a little too long when you’re bent over in front of me. Or how I think about your cute little mouth wrapped around that blow pop and wish it was my—”

“Steve Harrington!” You’d slapped your palm over his mouth to shut him up and if he wasn’t enjoying how squirmy you suddenly were he’d nip at your palm to make you jump. It was nice seeing you all red faced and hot because of him for a change, even though he loved it when it was the other way around. 

Maybe he’d said too much, let his filter slip a little too far but he wanted—no needed for you to know how perfect you were. Not just to him but to anyone with common sense. 

Pulling your palm away he opened his mouth but you shot him a glare as he did, as if you could sense he was going to do it. He watched as you tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear and cleared your throat bringing your weary eyes to meet his. 

“Smacking me around now?” He was a little shit, he knew it but he was sure you liked it anyway. 

“You love it.” And shit, you’d got him there. He’d let you do anything you wanted to him with a smile on his face and his heart happy. But just because he’d made you feel better didn’t mean the hurt just went away and he’d do whatever it took to fix it. 

“Caught me,” He threw you a wink that you ignored, rolling your eyes at him, “but seriously, there’s not one thing wrong with you and I’m sorry that I made you feel any different. I’m a dick. I’ll tell you till I’m blue in the face how pretty you are if that’s what it takes.” 

“Oh no, I’ve heard plenty, you perv. Now I know why you’re so quiet when I’m reorganizing the bottom shelves, you’re staring at my ass!” He shrugged at you sheepishly, not being near as embarrassed as he should be for admitting that. 

“But…thank you, Steve. This was just a misunderstanding that you’ve more than cleared up. We’re good, Harrington. I’m good.” And the relief he felt was seen on his face and felt throughout his body. He could’ve used the moment to be sweet, dragging out the conversation but you still looked a little uneasy about opening up to him so he thought it better to go back to territory you were comfortable with, him annoying you. 

“Oh I know we’re good! We’re friends now, remember? Don’t think I’ll ever let you forget it.” 

              *************************************

Things between you and Steve had been…good. 

There was a bit of tension between you, the kind that made your throat dry when you looked at him and your thighs clench when he whispered something in your ear if customers were around and he didn’t want them to hear. Maybe it was from the things he admitted or maybe it was because you were suddenly much more aware of Steve. 

You’d had your talk, if you could call it that, a few weeks ago and the time you’ve spent together since then had been mostly normal. Steve, getting on your nerves, rambling about nothing for as long as you’d let him, looking at you with those pitiful puppy dog eyes when you gave him some attention. You, teasing him relentlessly, even more now than before. Covering for him less, he’d been showing up on time almost every shift you had together. Bending over in front of him more just to hear him curse and see his cheeks flush. 

And maybe kind of developing a crush on him. 

It’s not your fault, it’s his! How were you supposed to resist him after he said he’d be lucky to go out with you, after he told you he’d been jealous someone else was, after he told you how pretty you were and how he thought about your mouth wrapped around his—

Fuck—no, you were not going down that road again. Every time you thought about what he said, how genuine and needy he seemed when he talked about you, your head got all fuzzy and your knees threatened to give out. It was all you could do not to pounce on him the second the words left his mouth. 

So yeah, you had a big fat crush on Steve Harrington. 

He’d also taken your comment about being friends to heart, bringing it up every chance he got and using it as an excuse for the two of you to spend even more time together. You’d walk in Family Video and he’d flash you that smile, opening his arms for a hug you pretended to hate but in reality looked forward to every day. 

“Hello, friend.” 

“As your friend I have to tell you how pretty you look today.” 

“C’mon friend, come to this party with me. It’ll be lame without you.” 

You’d threatened to revoke his “friend” privileges and he’d gasped, clutching his chest dramatically and pretending to stumble to the floor. It took everything in you not to giggle at his antics. You were quickly becoming obsessed with Steve, and even more obsessed with how quick you could get him to turn into a puddle at your feet. 

That was how you find yourself here at the Hawkins public pool with your bag strap digging uncomfortably into your shoulder and sweat dripping down your back, wearing what you’d bet was a grimace as you walked around the scattered chairs looking for Steve. 

One thing that remained constant and strong was the mid summer heat that took your breath away and put you in a less than pleasant mood most of the time. Poor Steve got the brunt of your frustration but he never complained. And that’s why you finally agreed to come to the pool with him, because he was sweet and patient and adorable, even when he was annoying the shit out of you. 

What you didn’t account for was the added heat you’d endure from seeing Steve shirtless before you, arms crossed over his chest and pale pink swim trunks sitting on his hips. 

When did Steve Harrington get chest hair and why was your mouth watering over it? It made him look sexy, older in a way that erased all boyish features you’d come to love. He looked…fuck he looked hot. His hair was slicked back and you knew he’d already gotten in, too impatient to wait for the 10 minutes longer it had taken you to get here. He had a trail of hair on his lower belly that ran down under the band of his swim trunks and you think you might have actually let out a whimper at the sight. 

You took a step toward him and cursed yourself when your legs wobbled a little bit. If he saw it he didn’t say anything, righting yourself quickly and making your way over so you could toss your bag into his waiting arms, trying not to look at the patch of chest hair just inches from your face and failing miserably. 

“My own personal pool boy, a girl could get used to this.” 

It didn’t take long to figure out that the easiest and quickest way to get yourself together was to turn it on him, to make his hands twitch and his stomach clench and to tease him until he was panting like a puppy. 

“At your service, ma’am.” 

Grabbing your arm he tugged you to the chairs he’d saved for the two of you, a cooler sitting between them with the lunch he’d made for the both of you. It makes your heart skip a beat and your tummy flutters. Your sweet Stevie. 

He sat your bag down between the chairs, laying back so his arms were stretched back and crossed behind his head, a twinge in your stomach tightening as you watched him stretch out before you. A fucking Greek god. You needed to even the playing field and you needed to do it now. 

Grabbing the sunscreen from your bag you put on the sweetest smile you could conjure while your body screamed at you to straddle his thighs and kiss him dumb. “Stevie, can you help me out with this?” He nodded without thought, that’s just how kind he was, sitting up to grab the bottle from your hands. 

Before he could make a move to get up you knocked his legs apart, pushing yourself down and back so that you were wedged between his thighs, your back almost completely pressed against his front. 

He cursed behind you, trying to scoot back but your hands dug into his thighs to keep him there, a silent plea. You’re sure if you could see his face he’d look almost pained at the feeling of your skin pressed to his. 

You heard him flip the cap open and squeeze some sunscreen in his hand, neither of you saying anything for a moment before he leaned forward, his lips almost touching the shell of your ear when he spoke, “s’gonna be cold.” You nodded wordlessly and straightened up a little, pushing back further into him. 

“Fuck.” You didn’t mean for it to slip out and hoped you could blame it on the cold lotion hitting your back, but you knew that was a lie. Steve’s big, calloused hands on your shoulders and back had you holding back whines and moans threatening to climb up your throat. Jesus Christ this felt good, too good. 

Any composure you had left flew out the window at his next move and you were quickly falling behind in the one sided game you’d started with him. 

You felt his hands move down lower to where the string of your bikini tied in the back, your thighs clenching hard when he slid them toward the front, following the line of your top and just barely slipping under the cup of your breast to tease the skin there before he was pulling back and going to your shoulders again. 

Holy fuck. 

He tensed behind you when your fingers dug harder into his thighs, but you didn’t even mean to. It was just a knee jerk reaction to his fingers gliding over the underside of your boob for Christ's sake. It wasn’t until you leaned back just a little, totally innocent you were just readjusting, that you felt it. 

Steve was hard. His swimsuit did a shit job of concealing it. And he was pressed up against you so tightly you could feel him throb against your lower back when you gasped. This was your opportunity to one up him, to move ahead a few spaces. 

Head turning to the side just slightly so he was in your peripheral, you needed to make sure he was looking and listening. You spoke as if you weren’t dripping wet yourself, thighs sore from how hard you’d been squeezing them together. 

“Poor baby, touching my shoulders and grazing a pair of tits has you all needy, huh?” 

He whined low in his throat, leaning forward to press his forehead against your back. You could feel little puffs of air against your skin as he tried to compose himself, not that you’d let him. 

“Stop. Don’t be mean.” The words were whispered against your skin and you smiled. 

“Don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m mean. Gets you hard, doesn't it, when I tease you?” You were being mean, so mean, but if the way he subtly tried to buck up against you was indication of how he felt, he loved it. 

You kept going, basking in the feeling of his hands grilling your hips tight and his breathing against your back was getting faster the more you talked. 

“You really are like a puppy. It’s just so fucking cute how whiny you get when you’re like this.” 

Both of you stilled when a whimper slipped out a little too loud and all of a sudden you remembered where you were, a fucking public pool. Steve must have realized too because he pulled back, scooting far enough away that you weren’t touching anymore and you hated how you already missed the feel of his skin on yours. 

Clearing your throat you shuffled over to the other chair, glancing at Steve to see his mouth shut and eyes looking anywhere but you. Maybe you’d gone too far. You opened your mouth to apologize but before you could he was up and tugging you to the edge of the pool, jumping in and practically dragging you in with him. 

The cool water actually did a good job of cooling you down, physically and mentally. When you broke the surface, gasping for air, Steve was already there looking at you. You couldn’t read the look on his face, couldn’t tell if he was upset with you so you bit the bullet. 

“M’sorry if I went too far, Steve. It’s just…you were…the sunscreen—you were making me feel crazy so I wanted to even it up. I shouldn’t have done that though, especially not here. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

For the first time since you came up from the water he broke his stare, opting to look around you before he came closer, pulling you in so no one would hear your conversation. 

“Don’t be sorry, I’m not. I only pulled away because I was seconds from cumming in my shorts like a teenage boy and I was embarrassed.” 

Lips pulling into a smile you covered your mouth and he pouted at you, huffing like a child when he saw you trying not to laugh at him. “No need to be embarrassed, Stevie. You can’t help that you’re a needy little thing.” 

His hand swatted at yours that had come up to pinch his cheeks and you cooed at him to tease him further. “So mean.” He tried to look annoyed but failed and it made your stomach dip at how pretty he looked, drops of water falling off his lashes, lashes you and every girl in Hawkins would kill for. 

“You really are pretty, Harrington.” The tips of his ears burned bright red and he moved toward you instinctively, like he wanted to kiss you. God did you want to kiss him. But you didn’t want to do it in a public place where you wouldn’t be able to make a mess of him after so you pulled back and splashed some water in his face with a giggle. 

“C’mon big boy, let’s swim! I didn't come all this way just to stare at your cute face.” 

Although you wouldn’t mind it. 

          *******************************************

The next few weeks are quiet, work goes by painfully slow when you’re not with Steve and you hate it. Your shifts with Steve are filled with teasing touches and flushed cheeks and very little work. 

You’ve also been spending a good chunk of the time you’re not at work with Steve as well. He somehow almost always convinces you to come over to watch a movie or go with him for a late night ice cream run. You find yourself in his car or playing with his hair while you lay in your bed more often than not. 

And you love it. 

Trying to act like you weren’t obsessed with him was exhausting so you mostly gave it up. You’d smile at him more, laugh at his jokes more freely, and have become much more touchy with him. 

Neither of you could seem to keep your hands off each other if you were in the same room. He always had to have a hand on your hip or one holding your thigh and you couldn’t keep your fingers from rubbing at his neck or slipping through his hair if he was close. 

There hadn’t been a conversation about what was happening, but neither of you seemed to mind. You think that you’d become best friends who were just crazy about each other and that was enough for both of you. 

Until it wasn’t. 

If you were being fair, you knew that technically you and Steve hadn’t officially become exclusive or anything. The two of you probably weren’t even dating, even though you spent all your time together. Cuddling and teasing constantly. 

But you weren’t fair. Everyone who spent any amount of time in a public setting knew that you and Steve were, for lack of a better word, an item. If someone saw you at the grocery store or at the post office, or anywhere, it was a safe bet that Steve was two paces behind you if he wasn’t already at your hip. 

This was common knowledge. Or at least you thought it was. So it’s a surprise, a bad one at that, when you come back from your break with a smile on your face that is quickly wiped away when you see some blonde you went to school with hanging over the counter with her tits pushed at Steve, a devious smile on her face as she bats her eyelashes at him. 

All the blood rushes from your body and you’re not sure you can even keep down the sandwich you’d had for lunch. A sandwich that Steve had made for you, might you add. There’s a horrible twist in your belly and you’ve never felt such rage as you have looking at the way she toys with the collar of his shirt between her fingers and at the way he gives her a small smile and doesn’t pull away. 

You were jealous. So jealous it took the breath right out of you and made your brain go blank. One minute you’re standing there with your skin hot and heart pounding and the next you’re sliding back into your seat beside Steve with a glare so sharp it could cut glass. 

“Need help with anything or are you just gonna keep groping the staff?” If your glare was sharp your words were sharper, serious and stern and directed at the girl who was still touching Steve, your Steve. 

Both the girl and Steve’s eyes widen at your tone. She finally takes a step back and you feel like you can breathe again. You see the way Steve’s staring at you but you don’t look at him, you can’t or you might do something crazy like hit this girl, or even worse, cry. 

Once the initial embarrassment from your words wears off she straightens her back and narrows her eyes in your direction. “I think we had it handled, sweetie. Your coworker here,” You flinch at the way she emphasizes coworker and feel yourself shrink a little, “was just giving me some movie recommendations. But thanks for the offer.” 

“I’ll leave you to it then.” The words taste bitter on your tongue and you want to slap the smirk off her face so bad your palm twitches. Steve is quiet beside you and you can’t even begin to process how that adds to your fury, to the pain that’s bubbling up beneath your skin and threatening to spill out. 

You’ve taken one, maybe two steps away from the counter, ready to go back to the bathroom of shame and cry again over Steve fucking Harrington when a hand on your wrist stops you. 

The same hand, the one that belongs to the boy you’ve become enamored with, tugs you gently back to his side, hand leaving you for just a second so he can wrap his arm around your waist and tug you into his side. Your hips are touching and you feel a wave of relief wash over you, the pain and anger dissolving while his hand grips you tightly against him. 

A sick satisfaction runs through you as you watch the way her jaw clenches and her eyes dim as his arm curls around you. Coworker my ass. Steve clears his throat beside you, catching yours and her attention, “I’m afraid I’m all out of recommendations for you, but maybe my coworker here has some for you.” Before she can even think about speaking you cut her off with a faux pout, “I don’t think I do, sorry!” 

Deciding Steve isn’t worth the battle you’re more than willing to start, what an idiot, she turns around and pretends to look through the new releases for all of five seconds before she’s scurrying out of the store and leaving you both alone again. 

Steve gives one last squeeze to your hip before he moves to sit back down, the reality of your little outburst smacking you in the face. Well, this is awkward. You sit down on your stool, tapping your hands on the counter while you try and gather the courage to look at him. 

You hope he’s not upset with you and if he is well…fuck him! Just because you haven’t said it out loud doesn’t mean he’s not yours. You know for a fact if he caught you flirting with a guy he’d be pissed! All whiny and pouty and pawing at you for attention. So you were justified in being upset, totally and fully justified. 

Now you’ve worked yourself up to tell him off and give him a piece of your mind, and you turn to him to do just that when it all slips away in an instant. Because Steve isn’t upset, no, he’s staring at you with wide, bright eyes and a smirk so big and knowing you curse yourself in your head. 

Oh this is even worse! Now you’ve given him a big head, bigger than he already had! 

“So that was…interesting.” You can hear the amusement in his tone and you roll your eyes. You much prefer him all pathetic and whiny over this…cocky Steve. But really you don’t mind this either. 

“Shut it, Harrington.” You think if you weren’t so obsessed with him you’d have the decency to be even a little embarrassed at how you acted but you aren’t! You practically marked your territory in front of her and you can’t find it in you to care or regret it. 

“You were jealous. Over me! I’ll never shut up about this! I’m taking a spot in the paper for this, alerting the press as we speak!” His bottom lip between his teeth and he looked giddy like it was Christmas morning and he’d gotten the brand new shiny bicycle he’d spent all year wishing for. 

You could have denied it, but what was the point in that? Everyone already knew anyway how you felt, you weren’t exactly subtle about it. Might as well embrace it at this point. 

“And so what if I was? Figure you’re mine anyways, right?” Your cheeks tint the lightest shade of pink as you watch him take in your words, his eyes a little wide and a small shy smile on his lips. 

“I am?” 

God okay, maybe you hadn’t been as obvious as you thought the last months. 

“Well…I thought so. You take up all my time anyways, Harrington, might as well. Plus I like you—well a lot. I’m yours too, ya know. If you want I guess, I don’t know, I thought this was just unspoken between us and now you’re making me nervous!” 

His lips parted in what could either be shock or awe, you weren’t sure. He didn’t look appalled at the idea so that was a good sign, right? 

“I’m sorry I just…sometimes I’m not even sure you like me all that much so I’m just a little shocked but yes! Fuck—yes I’ll be whatever you want.” 

Maybe he was a little dumb or maybe you weren’t as good at showing your feelings as you thought but either way you’d make sure he felt wanted, needed by you. 

“Steve, if I didn’t like you I promise I would not be spending all my time with you. I’m mean sometimes because you like it and I like seeing you all messy and cute. M’kinda obsessed with you, you idiot.”

His grin widened, dimples popping out and your heart sped up at the sight. He was pretty, so pretty and despite how you acted sometimes you felt so lucky that he even wanted to spend any time with you, let alone all of it. Steve Harrington had wiggled his way deep into your heart and your brain and you think your life would be dull without him. 

“I’d ask you to pinch me but I know you’ll make it hurt,” Your hand reached out automatically towards his thigh and he swatted you away with an eye roll, “I’m obsessed with you too, have been for months. Since the first day you started actually. Want you to be my girl, wanna be yours too.” 

Leaning forward you pressed a quick peck to the corner of his mouth and you felt his head turn, trying to catch your lips. He wouldn’t get off the hook that easily, it took no effort to remember how it felt to see that girl's hands all over him. Even if it wasn’t his fault you don’t think he’d mind paying for it anyways. Add on the cocky grin he had earlier when he realized you were jealous and all of a sudden you had big plans for Steve Harrington, plans that made your thighs clench and had you pulsing around nothing. 

You cooed at him, pulling back just in time to see his brows furrowed and a cute little pout working its way on his lips. He had no idea what was coming to him and you couldn’t want to see how sorry he would be. 

“Patience is key, baby.” 

          *****************************************

It was a week later when it all clicked for Steve. 

A week of teasing touches and sneaky glances his way, even when people were looking. You’d leave a kiss on his cheek or the corner of his mouth or on the side of his neck right right under his ear. He was going crazy, body leaning forward subconsciously anytime you were near him. 

You’ve barely let him touch you and at first he was worried but you’d whisper in his ear about “payback” for making you jealous and while he was nervous, now he was just excited. And impatient, wanting and begging for you to just do it already. He couldn’t take much more teasing, his cock had been aching for what felt like forever and no matter how many times he found himself in bed, stroking himself to the thought of you, it wouldn’t ever be enough. 

He thinks you’ve finally decided to put him out of his misery, calling him earlier to ask if you could come over, that you had a special surprise that was just for him. He’d agreed without hesitation, telling you to come over whenever you wanted and that he’d be waiting for you. His parents weren’t around this weekend so he didn’t have to worry about them and he was thanking god for that. 

It had been 4 hours and 37 minutes since you called, not that he’d been counting, when he heard a knock at his door that had him all but jumping over the couch and sprinting for the front door. He practically ripped it open, grinning wide as he took you in with dreamy eyes and his stomach twisted in knots. 

You were wearing a sundress that reached about mid thigh and he had to hold himself upright with the door at the sight of your bare legs, tan and smooth and fuck he just needed to bite at the skin between your thighs. The dress had little strawberries printed all over and he’d bet money that you tasted just as sweet as the fruit. His mouth watered at the sight of your full lips all glossy with whatever you’d put on them and it took everything in him not to lean forward and suck your bottom lip into his mouth. 

He didn’t realize he had been standing there just staring until you cleared your throat, a knowing smirk on your lips as he shook his head to clear him from the daze you’d put him in. “S’pretty, you’re so pretty.” His voice was quiet and he wasn’t sure if he meant for you to hear or if he was just talking to himself. 

“Thank you, handsome. Can I come in or do I need to stand on the porch with you eye-fucking me all night?” He doesn’t think he’d ever get used to your crassness, even though he wasn’t complaining about it. He loved that you spoke your mind, no matter how dirty, and hoped what one day he’d be comfortable doing that too. 

“Right, right, yes come in,” Pulling the door open he stepped to the side so you could come in, knees wobbling when he caught a whiff of your perfume as you passed, “Are you hungry? I can…order something. I don’t have much to cool but maybe I could run to the store real quick?” 

He heard your muffled giggle as you walked through the house in front of him, hips swaying as you walked and he felt his cock twitch in his pants just looking at you. 

“Just hungry for you, Stevie.” 

You were teasing, he knew that, but he wasn’t sure you weren’t serious by the way you eyed him over your shoulder like he was your prey. And fuck did he want to be. He’d crawl around on the floor if you asked. 

By the time he followed your trail and made it through the living room you were at the foot of the stairs, lip between your teeth and hands together behind your back all innocent. You both knew better than to believe that. 

“Can I see your room?” Fuck this was happening. He nodded at you, grabbing your small hand with his and relishing in the way it felt to hold you. He led you up the stairs and was careful not to go too fast, to seem too eager. He knows you’d tease him for being so excited but based on the look in your eyes he thought that maybe you were pretty excited too. 

Pushing his door open he watched as you took in his room, eyes light as you scanned over the posters he’d hung haphazardly, some artwork the kids had drawn for him hanging above his desk. His bed was unmade and he cursed himself, as if you’d care. 

“Looks exactly how I pictured it.” 

“You pictured my room?” 

“Maybe.” 

He stood still, leaning up against the door he’d closed and locked behind him as you made your way around, lifting up papers and magazines, humming quietly to yourself. You must have been a witch or something the way he’d become so entranced with you, following your every move like he wasn’t meant to do anything else.

So when you turn around to face him quickly, he’s startled, eyes shooting up to meet yours like he’d gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar before dinner. 

“Alright then, on the bed.” 

The flurry of questions he has does little to deter him as he scrambles past you and pushes on the bed a little too quickly. He falls forward face first and hears you snicker behind him. He’s not sure where you want him so he hopes he’s right. He scoots back, flush against the wall, the headboard on his left and foot of the bed on his right. 

“You want this, Harrington? I’m not misreading anything, right?” 

He’s shaking his head furiously, eyes wide and mouth closed as he watches for your next move. 

“Oh now you have nothing to say? Months of knowing you and you’re hardly ever quiet. Use your words, big boy.” 

“Y-yes, I want this. Whatever you want.” 

The smile you reward him with makes his chest ache and the blood rush through him so fast he can hear it pounding in his ears. He thinks he wants you looking like that all the time, proud and pleased with him. 

“Good! It’s time for payback then.” 

        **********************************************

You really really hoped your nerves didn’t show on your face as you stood in front of Steve. You don’t think he’d notice even if they did, eyes glazed over as he waited for whatever you had planned. 

Now at this point you were over the whole jealousy thing from last week, really you were! But you played into it a little extra just so you could be mean to him right now. Although with the plans you had, you’d be being mean to him and yourself. 

Wordlessly you reached down, fingers toying with the hem of your dress and you watched as Steve’s eyes tracked the movement, throat bobbing slightly as you lifted it a few inches before letting it drop back down. 

This only lasted for a few minutes before you’d had enough, gripping your dress and almost ripping it over your head and letting it drop to your feet. What you hadn’t mentioned was that you had nothing underneath it, absolutely nothing. 

Steve drank you in, slack jawed with his eyes almost bugging out of his head when he moved from your face to your tits, staring at your already hard nipples that you would blame on the coolness in his room. His eyes moved down further and he groaned, a deep, guttural sound that made your clit throb under his stare. 

Was that some drool leaking down to his chin? 

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.”

“Can I?” You don’t think he even realized the words left his mouth and you fought the urge to laugh at how out of it he seemed already. 

“Not tonight, baby.” 

His hands fisted the sheets below him as the pet name slipped past your lips and you smiled sweetly at him. Pointing to the headboard you directed him with a quiet voice, “I’m gonna sit there,” moving your hand to point toward the foot of his bed he followed your finger eagerly, “and you’re gonna sit there, facing me.” 

He obeyed instantly, shuffling toward where’d you directed him while you climbed onto the bed and and situated yourself against his headboard with your legs stretched out in front of you. 

“Can I have your shirt?” It wasn’t anything special, a plain white t-shirt that hugged him beautifully, but you wanted it all the same. To have his smell surrounding you, covering you in him. He peeled it off so he was left in a pair of jeans that stuck to him in all the right places. Unsure of what to do he tossed it to you and you wasted no time in slipping it over your bare frame, pleased that it bunched at your hips just how you’d hoped.

You could see the disappointment in his face at the extra layer you’d added and you itched to lean forward and pinch his flushed cheeks in adoration. He was just so adorable it made you crazy. With everyone else he was strong and stern, the babysitter and protector and king of Hawkins.

But with you…with you he was soft and sweet, pliable in your hands like putty and you ate up every second of it. 

           ****************************************

Steve thinks he might have gone to heaven, you sitting across from him in nothing but his shirt with your thighs on display. 

His chest feels hot despite the cool air hitting his skin and he thinks if he doesn’t get his hands on you in the next three seconds something horrible might happen. You're giving him that teasing smile that makes his tummy clench and sends excitement zipping down his spine. 

He still can’t believe you like him, that you’re obsessed with him. It’s like a dream come true and he thinks he’s pinched himself at least 17 times in the last week. 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when you call his name softly, head snapping up to meet yours and he feels dizzy all over again from how pretty you look. 

“You’re gonna watch me, okay? No touching me or yourself until I say.” Wait—what? He gives you a nod and tries not to let his disappointment show in his face, and he knows he fails based on the way you smile and shake your head at him. 

But any disappointment he had is gone in a flash when you lean back and spread your legs to give him a glimpse at just how much you like him. He might black out, he’s not sure. You’re glistening for him, a little bit of slick on your thighs and suddenly he’s starved. He audibly groans at the sight of you on display for him. 

“She’s pretty—fuck so pretty.” He’s talking more to himself than you but he sees the way you twitch at him referring to your pussy as “her” and it makes him smile shyly, still not moving his eyes from where you’re dripping on his bed. 

He watches closely as your hand trails down, rubbing over your thighs for just a second before you’re taking two fingers and spreading yourself open for him, both of you too impatient to drag this out too long. Before he can stop himself he’s moving forward, going to his knees and crawling across his bed that feels far too big all of a sudden. He doesn’t realize he’s moved until your legs are closed and one foot is pressed against his bare chest, stopping him from getting any closer. 

One hand is holding him up and the other is holding onto your ankle as he pleads with his eyes for you to let him closer, just a taste, he just needs one little taste. 

“We’ve just started and you’re already breaking the rules?” The faux disappointment in your tone makes him pout, leaning down to press a small kiss against your calf and he hears you chuckle at his attempt at distracting you. 

“M’sorry, baby, you’re just so pretty, she’s so pretty. Let me have a taste, please? I’ll be good after that, I swear. Just one taste, honey.” 

He watches in anticipation, hope is swelling in his chest as you study him and he can see the contemplation in your eyes as you take him in. He’s so close he can smell you and it lights his whole body up, cock so hard pressed up against his jeans he could cry. 

“Hmm, no,” He hears the whine he makes but can’t be bothered to care, “what fun is payback if I give in before I’ve even touched myself! You can be patient, I know you can.” You have much more faith in him than he has in himself, body slumping in defeat before he’s moving back to where you directed him the first time. 

“Can I at least take these jeans off? It hurts, baby.” 

“Fine, but the boxers stay on, sneaky.” It takes him no time before he’s peeling his jeans off, sighing in relief when some of the pressure is released and he feels like he can breathe again. 

Well he can breathe until you’re spreading your legs again, fingers slipping back down to tease at your clit as your eyes stay locked on him. His chest is tightening as he watches you. Watching the way your legs spread wider when you notice him fisting the sheets beside him. Watching the way your head falls back against his headboard when you move down to circle your messy hole, a moan so lewd coming from your mouth he feels a bead of precum drip down his cock. 

Jesus Christ, he couldn’t decide if this was heaven or hell but he’s sure that either way he’d gladly spend an eternity here. 

He’s torn between watching your face or watching your fingers in your cunt, eyes flickering between the two every few seconds so he didn’t miss something important. He remembers how you compare him to a puppy and he’s sure he’s never looked more like one than he does right now. He’s practically panting across from you and you’re the treat that would be making his tail wag—if he had one. 

“Feels so good, Stevie. This is how wet I get just from thinking about you, ya know? Always have me messy and ready for you.” 

“Please let me touch you. Fuck—please, sweetheart. Need it so bad, need you so bad. I’ll be good, I swear. Never make you jealous again. God I swear I’ll do anything.” 

He knew you were getting close, thighs threatening to close on your hand and hips lifting from the bed eagerly. He could see it on your face too—you wanted to deny him, to torture him some more but he could see you giving in. 

“You beg so pretty, Harrington. Fuck, get over here. Now.” 

He didn't need to be told twice, launching himself across the bed and fitting himself between your thighs that had opened a little to accommodate his wide frame. He waited expectantly, and you smiled down at him fondly. 

“You know, you really look like a—”

“A puppy, I know. So can I have my treat then?” 

Nodding at him you swiped your fingers through your folds and held your hand out to him, fingers shiny with you and he opened his mouth quickly. His head moved forward and he took your fingers in his mouth, lapping his tongue around them greedily, determined not to waste a single drop. He hummed around them, eyes closed so he didn't see the way you were staring at him like he’d hung the moon. 

“S’good then?” You sounded breathless above him and he could only nod, not wanting to drop your fingers from his mouth just yet. God, you tasted good. He’d compare you to a nice summer treat but the truth is you’d be perfect for any season, any day. Fuck he’d stay buried between your thighs 24/7 if you’d let him. 

He finally pulled off just enough so that he could speak, “better than a blow pop.” The laugh that pulled from you made his heart warm. It was loud and genuine, shoulders shaking slightly as you grinned at him, teeth on display and everything. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, you pressing your fingers down on his tongue and even though he’d cleaned them up, the taste of you lingered and he would gladly sit here with your fingers in his mouth for hours. 

But you had other plans. 

“Need your fingers, Stevie. They’re bigger than mine and I’m already close from watching you lap at my fingers like a little greedy puppy.” His eyes fell from yours, cheeks red and ears burning as you teased him. 

“Can I use my mouth?” 

“Mhm, not today. I already gave in way too quick, you were just too cute to say no to.” He wants to pout, to protest and beg but he thinks just watching you fall apart on his fingers will be more than enough for him. 

You part your legs further as he slips down to rest his cheek against your inner thigh. His hair tickles the soft, sensitive skin there and you giggle. He moves just enough to press a quick, open mouthed kiss and dreams about the marks he hopes you’ll let him leave there one day. 

With a nod from you he moves his eyes to your cunt, swollen and dripping, and runs his fingers over your clit just to feel your thigh twitch against his cheek. He wraps the hand he’s not using around your thigh, clutching it to him tightly as he eases two of his fingers into you. They slip in easily with no resistance and the feeling of your warm, hot walls snug on his fingers makes him grind his hips down into his bed. 

“Shit—she feels good, hugging my fingers so tight.” Your hips buck up against his hand, urging him in deeper and he smiles against your leg. A groan slips out of him when your hand slips down to rub slow, loose circles on your clit, head rolling back so that all you can see is his eyes peeking up at you. 

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so hot in his entire life. He can see the little beads of sweat rolling down your forehead and how you’re panting and whining above him, especially when he curls his fingers upward and finds that spongy spot that has your mouth dropping open and eyes squeezing shut. 

“There it is, yeah? That’s the spot?” You’re nodding quickly, fingers that were circling your clit are now sliding into his hair and gripping it tightly. The burn of it makes him moan against your thigh, the sting of your grip making his eyes roll back into his head almost. 

“D-don’t you dare stop, Harrington. M’close, so so close.” He doesn’t think there is anything that could get him to stop. Not when you’re dripping down his hand and your thighs are shaking like they are. 

The final straw is when he moves his mouth down a couple of inches, teeth scraping against the skin where your thighs almost touch and he bites down, hard enough to leave a mark. He hears the thud of your head knocking against his headboard and the curse that flies out of your mouth as you clench down on him so hard you almost push his fingers out. He works you through it, licking over the mark he just left to soothe the sting and slowing down his fingers once you start to twitch and whine from the feeling. 

It’s not until you're pushing his hand away and letting your legs slump that he takes a peek at you, a lazy smile on your face and hair sticking to your forehead where you’d been sweating. He knows there’s a widening grin on his face as he looks up at you, placing one last kiss before he’s sitting himself up so his legs are under yours and his hands are resting on the tops of your thighs. 

“If that’s what you call payback then remind me to piss you off more often!” 

You roll your eyes, letting your body fall back against his headboard, “Don’t get smart with me now, Harrington. Not when I’m about to make you cum. I would hate to change my mind.” 

His ears perk up and honestly he hadn’t even thought about himself since he’d gotten between your thighs, content with watching you squirm and moan around his fingers. But he wasn’t gonna turn you down, hell no! Just the thought of you anywhere near his cock had him twitching in his boxers. 

He closed his mouth, fingers coming up to mimic zipping a zipper of his lips and tossing the non existent key far behind him. You smirked at him, hand coming close to pat his cheek, almost like you’d pet his head. 

“Good boy, now turn around and take those boxers off, please.” 

          ********************************************

Holy shit. You didn’t think you'd ever cum so hard in your life. You swear you might have actually seen stars for a minute there when he curled his fingers just right. And when he bit you? How the hell did he know you had a thing for biting. 

Keeping him at arm's length had been the hardest thing you’d ever had to do, especially when he was looking at you like you were a five course meal in front of him. He’d practically been salivating at the sight of you and it took everything in you not to give into him immediately. 

But now that you’d cum, all you could think about was him. About finally getting your hand on his cock and listening to the way he’d gasp and whine with your hand around him. Just the thought was enough to send another wave of arousal and need over you, your toes curling and fingers digging into his bed. 

He still hadn’t moved in front of you and you cocked your head at him, trying to figure out why he suddenly had that sad pout on his lips. “What’s the matter?”

His cheeks were red and he looked almost embarrassed as he tried to avoid eye contact with you and you worried you’d done something to upset him. Maybe this wasn’t as good for him, maybe he didn’t like you teasing him? 

“S’just…you haven’t kissed me and I just—I wanna kiss you so bad but I didn’t know if there was a reason you hadn’t or maybe you just didn’t want to or—”

You cut him off, gripping his shoulders and pushing your lips against his that were swollen and slick with spit. He moaned against you, sighing and relaxing in your hold. Fuck—how had you not kissed him yet? 

His tongue swiped against your bottom lip and you heard the little whine he let out when you didn’t let him in, laughing against his lips. He took the opportunity to move closer, hands moving to fist at your hair and you felt lightheaded from how good he felt, how sweet he tasted. 

When you needed to breathe you regretfully pulled back, foreheads touching and noses bumping into one another as you both took big, greedy gulps of air. His eyes almost sparkled as he looked at you, a shy smirk on both your mouths. 

“Better?”

“Perfect.” It was hard to ignore the way your heart thumped against your rib cage like it was trying to fight its way out. He was perfect. Everything about him and the way he carried himself drew you to him like a moth to a flame. Your mind was consumed with all things Steve. 

And while you wanted to be mushy and sweet with him, one glance down between you had your mouth watering and fingers twitching at your sides. There was a dark wet patch on his blue boxers and the outline of his cock was prominent. You think you know why he was so cocky in high school now, he definitely had the goods to back it up. 

“Kiss me whenever you want but if you don’t get your boxers off in the next 5 seconds I might do something crazy.” 

Your words snapped him out of his post kiss haze and you laughed softly as he scrambled off the bed to pull his boxers down his legs and practically kick them across the room. You gulped at the sight of him, of his pretty and thick cock already leaking and shiny for you. You motioned him forward, eyes kind and soft as you spread your legs for him. 

He smiled when you patted the space in front of you and he crawled back between your legs and shuffled so that he was sitting in front of you, his back pressed to your front, the material of his shirt clinging to his sweaty back. Your thighs stretched around his hips but you loved the slight burn it brought you. You laid back and brought him with you so that he was slumped against your chest, your feet hooked over his calves. 

His hands were on either one of your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh there while his arms were loose at his sides. You took the opportunity to slip your hands under his arms, hands reaching up to run over his chest, tweaking one of his nipples on your way and watching the way his cock twitched where it was resting against his lower belly. 

Steve looked like a dream, head thrown back on your shoulder, thigh thighs spread open with his pretty cock on display for you. As your hands made their way to his tummy you scratched softly, fingers sliding through the trail that started under his belly button and went down. He must have felt sensitive there because he turned his head to the side, mouth pressed against your neck as he cursed. 

“S’good, so good. Fuck, I swear anything you do feels fuckin’ perfect.” You pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder at his words, feeling the high of them as he spoke. 

Holding your hand out in front of him, palm up toward his face he hummed against you, not sure what you were wanting him to do, but willing to do just about anything if it meant your hand would be on his cock. 

“Spit.” 

All that was heard in the room was his quick intake of air, eyes fluttering as he leaned toward your hand. He looked back at you once, to double check that this was real or for confirmation that you really wanted him to spit in your hand, you’re not sure. But you nodded, throat bobbing as he turned back and spit, watching in awe. 

“Good boy.” 

Any strength he had left was gone at your words, head falling back to its place on your shoulder as you moved your hand down, taking hold of his cock and hearing him hiss at the contact. 

You think this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

His cock was hot and smooth under your touch, a mix of his spit and precum making it easy to glide your hand over his shaft, letting your thumb catch on the tip and relishing in the way he gasped in your ear. 

“Such a pretty cock for a pretty boy, hmm?” The feeling of his fingers digging into your thighs only spurred you on, hand tight around him as you stroked him quickly, loving the way his tummy would clench and he’d gasp at how slick he was, how good it felt. 

You’d never seen him so needy, so pathetic as he was right now, little whines and pleas against the shell of your ear as you gripped him. He was heavy in your hand and you wondered how he’d feel on your tongue, how he’d taste when he thrusted into your mouth. You’d add that to the list of things you needed to do immediately. 

“M’sorry, sorry fuck—you’re gonna make me cum, m’gonna cum—oh shit.” He was throbbing hard against your palm, breathing even harder against your neck and you cooed at him when his hips started thrusting up in time with your strokes. 

“Without asking? I don’t think so, Stevie. You haven’t even said please!” Your hand slowed and he moved so his hand was wrapped over yours, trying to get you to go faster but you swatted him away, scolding him with a pinch to his hip. 

Taking one look at his face that was still buried in your throat, you could tell he was out of it, so fucked out you weren’t sure he could even form words, let alone beg. But that didn’t stop you from egging him on, slowing down until he was so worked up he was on the verge of tears. 

“Oh fuck—please…baby, honey, please let me cum? I’ve been so good I just..shit I need it. You feel so good, perfect girl. O-oh my god, please. Please please please.” 

He was mumbling, a mix of curses and pleas as he left sloppy, open mouthed kisses against your throat. You think you’d give him anything he wanted right now with how pretty he sounded, all pathetic and fucked out for you. 

“Go ahead, pretty boy. Cum on my hand, yeah? Make a mess of us.” Your hand sped up on his cock, feeling yourself leak into his bed as he twitched against your fingers. You kept going, kept talking as his hips got sloppy and cock was red and begging for release. 

“Don’t know how you’ll ever fit inside me, Stevie. Gonna have to prep me for days I think.” 

“Next time you’ll have to use my mouth, yeah? I hate letting your cum go to waste.” 

“Y’look so pretty like this. My sweet boy thrusting up into my hand, gonna think about this for days.”

He thrusted up one final time, hips stilling and body going tight as his orgasm took over. His cum coated your fist that was still wrapped around him, reaching his belly and even spilling down onto his thighs. He couldn’t even see the way you pouted at how much had been wasted, cursing yourself for not letting him use your mouth. 

Slumped completely against your chest he mumbled something about his legs feeling like jelly and you giggled, cheek resting against his forehead. 

“Soooo, good then?” 

It took all the energy he could muster to squeeze your thigh, head moving to the side a fraction so he could look at you, smiling so big his cheeks had to hurt. “Are you fuckin’ kidding? I think I just saw god for a second.” 

Rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders, butterflies danced in your stomach at how pretty he looked. His skin was flushed and glowing, hair a mess where you’d both pulled at it, lips swollen and red from biting and kissing and holding them between his teeth. He looked phenomenal. 

As much as you’d love to stay here wrapped up in him for the rest of your life, your thighs had gone numb from being stretched around his hips and your back ached from sitting back against his headboard for so long. 

Out of the corner of your eye you could see him nodding off on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut and little puffs of air hitting your skin. You tapped his cheeks with your clean hand, “C’mon, Stevie. Gotta clean us up and then we can go straight to bed.” 

He groaned in protest but leaned up enough so that you could slip from behind him, legs tingling when you stood on them, hobbling to the bathroom on shaky legs and flipping Steve off when you heard him chuckle from behind you. 

“Oh fuck off, Harrington.” 

          ******************************************

When Steve wakes up the next morning it’s slow and sweet, eyes blinking open and a small smile on his lips when he feels you pressed into his side. 

He looks down and tries not to laugh at your mouth hanging open, a little bit of drool on his chest from where your cheek is squished against his skin. Your hair is sticking up in every direction and he can feel your breath on him. It makes his heart grow in his chest, an overwhelming sense of joy and contentment washing over him as he stares down at you. He could get used to this, you attached to his hip and waking up to you in his bed. 

Thinking back to when you barely gave him the time of day, he smiles at your relationship now. How you’re just as needy as him, tugging on his belt loop to pull him to you if he’s not close enough for your liking, pulling his hand to your thigh in his car if he doesn’t do it first. He’s seen you use your foot to pull his chair closer to yours at work countless times, a little smile on his mouth every time. 

There’s a part of him that doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He feels that way all the time but especially when you laugh louder than you mean to, hand coming up to cover your mouth with a bashful smile. He feels it when you're humming along to a song you’d heard on the radio, head moving side to side and hips swaying to the beat in your head. He feels it when you randomly bring his hand up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm and to his fingertips. 

He feels it all the time, really. 

And he loves when you're mean to him, when you tease him about staring at you too long or for getting all bashful when you do something normal like tuck your hair behind your ear or scrunch your nose. He loves that you turn him into mush. 

“Stop staring, you creep.” He’d been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice your eyes opening or how’d you had scooted closer to him, one leg coming up to tangle with his, wrapped together tightly. 

“That’s rich coming from you considering I’m gonna have to clean your drool off me.” You gasped, sitting up straight and smacking at this chest, appalled at the notion that you would ever—could ever—drool on him in your sleep. 

“Keep it up, Steve. Remember what happened the last time you pissed me off?”

As if he’d ever forget. Unfortunately for you, the idea of repeating last night, or anything like it, was hardly going to deter him from pressing your buttons in the way that only he knew how to do. Reaching out he tugged you back down to him, tucking you back into his side and pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head. 

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.” 

[steamystrangerfics]

For real though. 😍 I love my Billy.

Me when I see some ragebait about Billy Hargrove

[steamystrangerfics]

Tumblr is made up of mainly millennials. I know that I will be 32 this year.

What will happen when we all get to be in our 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s.

I don’t think this site will ever die. It’s already been around since 2007 (18 years.)

Just imagine us in our 80s still making smutty fanfics from inside the senior centers

[steamystrangerfics]

nsfw | mdni

the way that i would give season seven spencer the best head of his existence is absolutely crazy. slobbering on that thing fr

[steamystrangerfics]

[steamystrangerfics]

Fine as fuck

366 Days of Killian Jones [336/366]

[steamystrangerfics]

I love me a man with chest hair and beard/ facial hair.

I also love me a person who keeps their tops buttons undone.

I love me a man who wears jewelry.

I love me a person with pretty eyes.

I love me a person who doesn’t give up on you.

366 Days of Killian Jones [336/366]

[steamystrangerfics]

i need more sub! spencer and early season! spencer fics

just look at him! somebody please!!!!