Getting back into writing after years of mental health blah blah blah. I moved to Eddie Town waaaaaaay too late because I didn’t watch Stranger Things until this, the year of the Barbie movie. But once I started reading about that metalhead there was no going back. And I wouldn’t if I could <3
𝕞 𝕒 𝕤 𝕥 𝕖 𝕣 𝕝 𝕚 𝕤 𝕥
Things to Note: This Blog is rated 18+, MDNI
Minors not welcome here. I will block any ageless/blank blogs because to me, you are either a robot or a literal baby. Not very confident in my smut skills as of yet anyway, so most of what I write here is fluff with a whisper of spice to it.
Kind of like a smut-flavored La Croix.
Nonetheless, go away. Please. This post sums up my feelings on it perfectly, if you want any further reasoning.
Other things about me:
Constantly fighting a war between my desire to shower everyone everywhere with affection and then feeling like I’m the most annoying person to ever live.
Also torn between “Dang it, I am the funniest person in world” and “Who the fuck would ever talk to you, you creepy, weird weirdo???” So, that’s fun.
I keep my excess of Eddie (and now Steve, whoops) brain rot at @madeofmunson and @stuffedwithsteve so that’s the place to go for fic recs/me being unhinged in the reblogs and the tags.
Obsessed w/ my cat and I’ll show her to you. Not sorry.
Don’t be a dick. To me, to anyone. Just be cool, man (gn).
I saw the snippet from yesterday and it left me desperate 🐍 tyyyy
just for you, lover 😘 that snake now has a starring role…
“Can I kiss your snake?”
Eddie’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in disbelief at the words, like he couldn’t believe he’d just heard them come out of your mouth. He then looked down to see how your fingers were toying with the bottom of his shirt, dragging it up just enough to reveal the head of his tattoo.
You traced its raised lines with the softpad of your thumb until Eddie shivered, his head falling back to hit the heavily stickered wall and his voice coming out in a hoarse and eager plea.
“Fuck, sugar…you can’t just say stuff like that to me,” he chuckled breathlessly.
Okay… if I do go forward with more of the swap…everyone has to agree RIGHT NOW to be cool about Chrissy… 🔫🧐
You sat in Chrissy’s room, cross-legged at the foot of her bed with one of her stuffed animals resting in your lap. Lamb-Lamb’s fur was as soft as you remembered it being when you were eight, and you couldn’t help but pick at the tiny swirls of fleece on the top of his head while you listened to Chrissy rattling off her latest family drama while she did her make-up at her lighted vanity.
Occasionally, you snuck a glance at her reflection in the mirror, her blue-green eyes sparkling, her strawberry blonde curls falling in loose waves around her shoulders, her skin bright.
crush!steve harrington x fem!reader x fwb!eddie munson
The annual Harrington Christmas party is an elegant affair, complete with decorations, fancy food and flowing libations. But when your friend-slash-fuck buddy Eddie tires of you and Steve dancing around your burgeoning feelings for one another…he offers a creative solution.
Part One│Part Two
18+, MDNI 8k
cw: MMF, allusions to poverty and implied family strife, light alcohol and weed use, kinda mean/crass Eddie, semi-public fingering/oral (f receiving), r’s hair gets pulled once.
The Harrington’s were white light people.
There wasn’t a single inch of their stately home that wasn’t adorned in festive finery for their annual Christmas party. Everywhere, it was all silver candlesticks with cream-colored tapers, deep red ribbons tied into bows and hung at perfectly spaced intervals, long garlands of rich greenery draped along the banisters—real as shit and smelling like a goddamn pine forest.
It was a far cry from what you and Eddie had known growing up next door to one another way on the other side of town. For you two, it was scrawny and half-dead trees purchased at a discount as close to Christmas as possible when their vendors were just trying to unload them, covered in a hodgepodge of homemade ornaments and faded multicolored lights, only about half of which worked half the time. When your families could afford a tree, that was.
The Harringtons’ own stood at the far end of the house, glowing bright as a nuclear reactor with seemingly endless strands of bright white lights wound around its branches. It was methodically decorated with matching red, silver and gold baubles, each one hung precisely in place and polished to gleaming perfection.
Elegant. Proper. Pristine.
The party was already well underway by the time you arrived, Steve nowhere to be found in the sea of people. They all stood together in clumps, exchanging jovial smiles that pushed up rosy cheeks, the women cooing over each other's outfits and jewelry while the men swapped stories about their quarterly earnings. Weaving through the throngs, cater waiters floated past carrying trays loaded with hors d’oeuvres and tall glasses of shimmery, bubbly liquid.
It made you and Eddie glance around, furtive and unsure as you skulked into the foyer. The two of you might as well have been invisible for all the attention anyone paid you.
“See Steve anywhere?” you asked, peering deeper inside the house.
The former stud of Hawkins High had always been easy to spot in the hallways of his former domain, seemingly towering over everyone even after he stopped sporting that gravity-defying bouffant hairstyle. Those days were long gone now, but an occasional glimmer of his old self would still shine through, reminding you of when King Steve reigned supreme.
“Nope, nowhere,” Eddie grumbled. “I told you this was a mistake.”
His warm breath on your ear as he leaned in to whisper in it had your head snapping to the side. Some of the snow that had just started to fall outside dusted his dark, unruly curls and he still had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his leather jacket, as though he wanted to be ready to turn heel and run at the first opportunity. You’d seen him look more relaxed about to shoplift.
“What do you mean?”
“Look around, sweetheart. See if you can spot what doesn’t belong.”
It was kind of irritating how right he was. Everyone else in attendance tonight looked perfectly at home in this pretty picture. It was all business partners and their wives, clients who probably made more in a year than you or Eddie would hope to see in your entire lifetime, other miscellaneous friends and fellow members of the Hawkins upper echelon.
To call you fish out of water would be putting it lightly. You were like fish on a space station.
“What were we supposed to do?” you whispered back. “We had to come.”
That was debatable. Steve had invited you, yes, but he also practically tripped over himself to assure you it was totally fine if you couldn’t make it. He’d sat on the edge of Eddie’s sofa running through all his most blatant tells—hands pushing through his hair, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose, foot jiggling non-stop—as he told you about the party.
“It’s all my parents' friends, so it might be kind of lame. But I’m allowed to invite people if you guys want to come. It’d be really great to see you.”
He’d worked himself up into such a state, it almost felt cruel to say no. You weren’t sure what it was—something about the earnestness with which he asked, and the way his eyes shone so hopefully when you smiled and told him you thought it sounded like fun.
Eddie’s gruff voice sounded in your ear again.
“Think we’re just here to piss off daddy?”
You followed his eyeline to the living room, gaze promptly drawn to the imposing frame of John Harrington as he reached out to grip the hand of someone important. Or at least someone who seemed to think they were. Even never having seen or met him before, he was easy to pick out as Steve’s father. They had the same square jaw, the same perfectly angled nose and rich, light brown hair. Although, John’s was cut shorter and tamed into a much more manageable style than his son’s long locks that lived in a near-constant state of tousled messiness.
“Steve wouldn’t do that,” you said firmly. “He asked us to come because we’re his friends.”
The words still felt strange to say. It made you wonder, yet again, if it would ever stop feeling so surreal that you now hung out with Steve “The Hair” Harrington on an almost daily basis.
When you were in school together, you never even landed on his radar. Eddie had some notoriety as the town’s supposed demon summoner, but you were just…around. A plain face that blended into the crowd; a background extra with no lines in the scene; wallpaper and set dressing for the popular kids who were living out their exemplary lives.
If this was only a few years prior, he probably would be spending this evening sneaking drinks with Tommy H. and Carol, or parading around with Nancy Wheeler on his arm to show her off to all his dad’s colleagues and brag about her getting into Emerson. Instead, his falling out with all of them and his subsequent fall from his high-school throne had led him here—to an unlikely friendship with The Freak and The Invisible Girl.
Whenever he came over to Eddie’s to smoke, or you three piled into his car to go to the movies or drive the winding back roads that snaked along the edge of town, it almost felt natural. And the more time you spent with him, the harder and harder it became to remember why he’d always seemed so…untouchable.
“So, what should we do?” You wondered aloud as you glanced around again, still hoping Steve might materialize somehow. Behind you, Eddie’s head shook and his shoulders shrugged.
“How should I know? You were the one begging to come tonight.”
“I wasn’t begging.”
“Oh, really?” He scoffed as he leaned in close again, raising the pitch of his voice in an overly breathy imitation of you. “Please, Eddie? Please, can we go to the party? I’ll let you eat me out from the back if you—”
“Stifle,” you hissed, jamming your elbow into his stomach.
He grunted at the sharp jab, but his lips remained curled in a sly smirk. “What’s wrong? Worried your little crush will find out what I’ve been doing to you after he goes home?”
“I don’t care if he knows,” you sniped. It’s almost convincing, but the flash of alarm in your eyes told a different story. Not that it mattered, Eddie didn’t buy it for a second anyway.
“Well, that’s good,” he tutted. “Because he already knows we’ve fucked.”
“Wait, what?” You whirled around fully now. “How?”
“He, ahh…” Eddie fought to contain his grin as he scratched at the short stubble on his cheek. “He saw that picture you let me take.”
Your eyes went wide, both horrified and enraged as you shoved his shoulder—hard.
“You showed it to him?”
“No, he found it,” Eddie hissed. “We were looking around for some weed I had stashed and he happened to open the drawer it was in.”
Your whole body—your very being—surged with white hot shame. If it wouldn’t have given Eddie so much satisfaction, you might have run straight out of the party right then and there. The thought of Steve seeing you like that…
It was almost unbearable.
The details of you and Eddie’s attachment had always been strictly under wraps. You weren’t exactly keeping it a secret, per se, but most people weren’t super accepting of the idea and you’d learned to play it close to the vest. And with how much time the two of you had started spending with Steve, you didn’t want to risk making him uncomfortable.
It had been going on for ages. Pausing, albeit briefly, if one of you found yourself in a relationship, and picking right back up when said relationship inevitably fizzled or if it tipped into the dangerous territory of getting too serious. He was one of the few people in your life you trusted intrinsically, and it wasn’t like guys were banging down your door as it was.
The picture was a one-time thing—a polaroid you’d let Eddie snap as a belated birthday present because you’d been too busy to find him something real. You had made him swear upon pain of death it was for his eyes only. And now he’d shown it to the last person on earth you wanted to see it? Oh, you were going to garrotte him with tinsel in his sleep.
Also, Steve wasn’t your crush. He was…a preoccupation. A distraction. A vague interest.
You couldn’t even say for sure when it had begun. All you knew was just last spring, there was a month of Friday evenings where you found yourself back in the Hawkins High parking lot pulled in alongside Steve’s distinctive maroon beemer. He was leaning on the hood, waiting for Hellfire to let out so he could drive home his little horde of nuggets, and you had shown up acting as Eddie’s ride while his van was out of commission.
And that night, for the first time ever, you had a real conversation with Steve Harrington.
A fairly illuminating one, at that.
There was a sweetness to him you never would have guessed was there. And a dorkiness that brought light to his eyes when he did his elaborate handshake with Dustin Henderson, or the way he exalted along with the kids when the group burst through the double doors leading out of the school, whooping and cheering from a successful campaign. It warmed your whole body from the inside out, the feeling only growing stronger the more time you shared.
And now he’d seen your bare tits covered in Eddies cum. Perfect, just perfect.
“You’re such an asshole,” you muttered through gritted teeth. “That’s so humiliating.”
“I don’t know,” Eddie said, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I think he kinda liked it.”
“He…he did?”
“I mean, he was staring at it pretty hard. I think he needed some alone time with it.”
You rolled your eyes and gave his shoulder another shove for good measure, muttering a you're disgusting at him under your breath, hoping it would hide the nerves creeping across your face. Unfortunately, it only seemed to add fuel to Eddie’s fire. He leaned in one last time, his voice a gritty rasp in your ear that made shivers run down your spine.
“So you don’t wanna know what he said, then?”
Tension seized your shoulders as you glared at him, jaw clenched, ready to spit back a vicious comment—or maybe just spit—only to stop short at the sound of a familiar voice.
“Hey, guys! I’m so glad you made it!”
Steve was beaming as he came over, his bright hazel eyes shining, the golden flecks in them brought out by the color of his sweater. He drew you into his embrace, his strong arms curling securely around your body and his gourmand scent filling your nose as you breathed him in.
Your hands smoothed over the planes of his back, relishing in the softness of the knit he wore and the solidity of his broad chest pressed against yours. Your pulse quickened, blood pounding in your ears as you did your level best to force what Eddie had just told you out of your head.
“I’m the coat check tonight,” Steve explained, tipping an imaginary cap. “There’s a guest room upstairs we can put them in.”
“I gotta take a leak,” Eddie said, already shrugging off his leather jacket and pushing it into your arms. “Take care of that for me, will you sweetheart?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but Eddie just grinned back at you with a suggestive bounce of his brows behind his curled bangs. Steve pointed him in the direction of the bathroom and then turned straight back to you as he tilted his head upstairs.
“Shall we?” he asked.
The sounds of the party became distant and muffled as Steve led you upstairs to the designated dumping ground for all the furs and wraps of the numerous guests. It was dark inside, lit only by the moonlight that streamed through the window and the warm glow of the lights strung on the outside of the house that cast across the heap of coats on the bed.
You laid Eddie’s jacket down on a chair in the corner before you began to undo the belt of your own tied around your waist. As the thick, gray poly-blend slid off your shoulders, you shivered at the cool air hitting your heated skin for the first time that night.
When you turned back around, Steve was much closer than you remembered.
His eyes studied you with a kind of reverence that made your body tingle with excitement in a way you didn’t dare to name. The way he looked at you sometimes…whether it through a haze of pot smoke in Eddie’s trailer, or in the flickering light of a screen at the multiplex, or beneath the harsh amber wash of a single streetlight in an empty parking lot…
It made you wonder.
“You look really nice,” he finally said, his voice as soft as his eyes.
The dress you’d worn was fairly simple, made of maroon velour with a burnout pattern of leaves you thought looked a bit like holly. It was loose and flowy, but had laces in the back you had pulled tight so it cinched in your waist and pushed up your chest, not unlike a corset. The neckline was just low enough to flirt with impropriety and it nicely complimented the length of the pendant that sat in the center of your clavicle.
A dainty (fake) gold snowflake you thought was festive.
“Thanks,” you replied, your voice even softer than his as you folded your arms in front of your stomach. “I hope it’s okay. I don’t have a lot of nice outfits.”
Steve shook his head, captivated eyes still scanning over you. They landed briefly on your legs, the black stockings you’d worn in an attempt to stave off the cold now prickling warm on your skin as if it was his hands running over them instead of just his gaze.
“You always look perfect,” he said.
It’s not just the words that made you falter, but the plainness with which he states them. As if it’s something obvious. As though he thinks it all the time and he just happened to say it this time. It makes your stomach twirl and all at once, you feel like an empty-headed teenager standing at her locker, dizzy from being complimented by the cutest boy in school.
“So, this is quite a spectacle,” you chuckled, glad for the dimness of the room that somewhat hid your reaction to him. “Are there any poinsettias left in Hawkins?”
Steve smirked and took a careful step forward. There was only about a foot of space between you now, if that. “I think if there were, my mom would already have a guy on it,” he said.
Your eyes met his and you shared a soft laugh. “Well, it’s really beautiful,” you sighed. “It must have taken her ages to do all this.”
“Not really,” Steve chuckled. “She has, like, a whole team that comes in and puts it all together.”
“Oh, right. Of course.” Your gaze dropped and you gave a regretful shake of your head. Rich people stuff, you thought a bit bitterly. No wonder that hadn’t occurred to you. “But…you must decorate the tree together, at least. Right?”
“No, they do that too. I’ve, uh…I’ve never actually never decorated a tree for Christmas. I kind of thought that was just something they did in movies.”
He huffed out a laugh, trying to hide the sadness that had started to pollute his smile, and rubbed the back of his head, tugging at the hair there that curled along the nape of his neck.
All you could do was stare.
You thought about that gleaming, twelve-foot behemoth downstairs with its dazzling lights and ornaments all spaced and hung so perfectly. It was stunning—looked like something straight out of a magazine. But now it was tinged with something hollow and unsatisfactory.
Cold. Fake. Empty.
It was you who stepped closer this time, the muscles in your arm tensing as if fighting against your brain’s instructions to reach out and touch him. He was close enough now you could feel the warmth coming off his body and smell the spice of his cologne and the clove cigarette he must have smoked. Your lips trembled, parted slightly, still searching for what to say.
But words refused to come.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” Steve soothed, flashing you that easy and charming smile you’d grown to love and loathe in equal measure. “I just meant, like, Christmas really isn’t a big deal to me. And neither is this party, honestly, but…”
He fell silent as his hand reached out to squeeze your elbow, the soft pad of his thumb rubbing gently across your forearm. You stared mutely at his hand where it rested, already dreading how cold it would feel there when he let go of you. Except he didn’t.
“I’m really happy you’re here, though,” he said.
Steve’s chest rose with a sharp inhale and the tip of his tongue swiped along his bottom lip to wet it. His head tilted towards you, a few stray pieces of hair falling into his eyes that were bright and shiny with the string lights around the window reflecting in them.
It made your own breath catch, praying you weren’t imagining it as he started to lean in.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
You and Steve flew apart like shrapnel, both of you too wrapped up in the steady draw of your bodies together to notice the heavy thump of Eddie’s footsteps in the hall. Steve’s hand came up automatically to run through his hair, dragging up the bottom of his sweater and flashing the briefest glimpse of torso as his arm lifted. It made your mouth dry as a bone.
“I just realized I forgot about my hostess gift,” Eddie said.
His brow cocked at you and yet another little smirk curved along his lips as he brushed past, nudging you ever so subtly back in Steve’s direction. He then started to rifle through the inside pockets of his leather jacket until he exhumed a plastic bag with a few joints inside.
“Got it!” he chimed, holding it up triumphantly. “Merry Christmas, Stevie.”
The little baggie sailed through the air, crinkling when it hit Steve in the center of his chest.
“Oh! Thanks, man,” he chuckled, fumbling to catch it. “That’s great.”
Turning it over in his hands, he paused, mulling in silence as he stared down at the joints and glanced over his shoulder at the open doorway. From downstairs, you could now hear the faint tinkling of a piano being played and Eddie noticeably winced at the first few warbled notes of an unrecognizable carol being sung by a particularly drunk chorus.
“You know,” Steve said slowly. “We could bail on the party. Take this out to the pool house?”
As soon as he asked, his eyes darted up to meet yours—interrupting your intense study of the side of his face. Round and hopeful, they shone with his earnestness and you felt dizzy all over again. It made your brain scramble, trying to act like you weren’t just consumed by thoughts of what might or might not have been about to happen. You smiled.
“What are we waiting for?”
Steve left the lights off in the pool house, not wanting to draw too much attention if someone wandered onto the patio for some fresh air. The three of you made your way out in shifts—you with a plate of decadent treats you’d filled from the long table of desserts, Eddie with one loaded with food he’d swiped from the circulating trays, and Steve with a bottle of champagne he’d snuck out of the kitchen while the caterers were distracted.
The satisfying pop of its opening bounced off the walls that were mostly windows, sounding all the more illicit and clandestine in the darkness. The contents of the bottle fizzed as he held it out, offering you the first swig, and you took it with a nimble grasp.
Bubbly liquid splashed on your tongue and the dry, almost acidic, taste of it surely would have impressed someone with a more refined palette. But it made you wrinkle your nose as you squinted to read the French name scrawled in a loopy script on the shield shaped label.
“Gross, right?” Steve chuckled as you handed the bottle back. “But it gets the job done.”
He took a deep swig, head tipping back and giving you a long, long moment to study his neck as the muscles flexed with his swallow. You stared shamelessly, transfixed by the pairs of moles that sat along the line of his strong jaw, head empty of thoughts except how much better thechampagne would taste if you were licking it from his lips.
Eddie coughed, all loud and fake, drawing both of your eyes to him where he sat on a rattan sofa in the center of the room. He stared at you expectantly as he slouched down further in his seat, his knees spread wide and his arms draped across the back. He’d wasted no time making himself more comfortable, loosening the evergreen tie you’d made him wear and rolling up the sleeves of the dress shirt he normally only broke out for funerals or the odd court appearance.
“Don’t I get some of that?” he asked with a wry smirk.
Steve hurried to offer him the champagne, wiping away a little dribble of it that had started to trickle down his chin. You followed behind and slotted into a chair adjacent to Eddie’s as Steve handed off the bottle, making your brain short circuit when you saw the way his wide grasp nearly engulfed the entire bottom. It didn’t restart until he settled in the seat next to you.
After taking his sip, Eddie sparked up one of the joints and started it in a rotation along with the champagne. After only a few pulls from each you started to feel the effects, your head getting all light and floaty, your body warming from the blood pumping through you, your skin buzzing from the way your fingers kept brushing Steve’s whenever you passed him the joint or the bottle.
Or maybe it was from the way his eyes lingered on yours when you did.
Eventually, you dropped out of the rotation and sank back in your chair to gaze up at the house. The whole thing seemed to glow with the warmth of the party within, its windows bright yellow, the lights twinkling on the eaves. And the snowfall had remained soft and steady, dusting everything with a fine layer of white like powdered sugar.
The picture was immaculate, like a life-size snow globe. If Steve’s mother had somehow managed to pay Mother Nature as a decorator, it wouldn’t surprise you in the slightest.
“Seriously, Harrington,” Eddie snorted, evidently sharing in your bewilderment. “If all this is just the weekend before, I’m scared to ask what your family does for the main event.”
A deep chuckle bubbled out of his chest as he took a long swig of the rapidly draining bottle. He’d said it mostly as a joke, but Steve’s reaction revealed a nerve had been struck. He began to cough, sputtering out his words as he pulled the smoldering joint from between his lips.
“Oh no, it’s not—they aren’t, uh…they won’t be here.”
His eyes darted to the floor as he shook his head and stammered out his non-answer, wearing that same look on his face you’d seen in the guest room. Half-sad and trying to hide it.
“What do you mean?” Eddie asked. Steve just shrugged.
“They always go away for Christmas. I think it’s St. Barts this year. Maybe Turks and Caicos? Their flight is sometime tomorrow night.”
“Wait, so…they just leave you here?” you asked. “By yourself?”
Steve shrugged and shook his head again, the move almost reflexive, like flinching away from the sting of alcohol cleaning a fresh wound. “A nanny would stay with me when I was little. But from the time I was old enough…yeah, pretty much.”
You and Eddie’s eyes met, the same unthinkable thought seemingly crossing your minds. You actually felt bad—not just bad, but sad—for Steve Harrington.
“It’s not so bad, seriously,” he said, all flustered trying to salvage the mood. “I just hang out and watch movies and eat pizza. It’s fun. Honest.”
Despite his attempts, you can’t help but frown as you think what Steve’s Christmas will look like. His big house that was bursting at the seams with people right now being cold and desolate; him sitting all alone at a long dining room table eating leftover appetizers for every meal.
The thought tugged at something buried deep inside you. Something you’d packed away long ago and shoved into the furthest recesses of your mind. A box wrapped and taped and stapled and tied shut and then shoved behind a closet door. It made you turn to look at Eddie and he nodded knowingly, needing no words to know what you wanted him to say.
“You should come over,” he said, speaking so suddenly it came out loud in the tense quiet.
Steve’s head lifted. “What?”
“To me and Wayne’s,” Eddie supplied. “For Christmas Eve. We have dinner together and watch old movies and play games and shit. With this one.”
He jerked his thumb at you and you smiled as Steve’s eyes flitted over to meet your gaze.
“Only because they can’t cook to save their lives,” you said, shooting him a wink that made the corners of his mouth curl upwards.
“It’s not gonna be like this,” Eddie assured. “But it’s something, you know?”
“That, um…” Steve looked down at his lap, his long lashes fluttering as he tried to blink back the beginnings of tears. “That sounds really nice.”
Your hand moved without permission, reaching out to close around his wrist and squeeze. Steve’s head turned, staring at it like he thought he was dreaming. And as your brain suddenly caught up with the action and your body flooded with embarrassment, you started to pull it back only to feel the warmth of his palm covering your hand to hold it in place.
The only sound in the room was yours and Steve’s soft breathing and you swore you could feel the way both of your pulses were racing in time. His eyes lifted to meet yours and you became entranced all over again by his handsome face, the freckles that dotted his tanned skin, hazel eyes that shimmered as he scanned your expression, the deepness of his cupid's bow.
“I, um…I should check in with my mom real quick. You guys, uh…sit tight.”
Steve sputtered out his words as he rose to his feet, leaving your skin cold as he pulled his hands from yours. He looked around, his eyes searching to land on anything besides you or Eddie as he turned and stumbled towards the door. Eddie watched you watch Steve leave, an expression on his face as bemused as it was mocking.
“Jesus Christ, you two are exhausting.”
He shook his head, laughing to himself as he stuffed the last of the appetizers in his mouth. You glared back at him as he chewed and tried not to think about how your hand still burned where the ghost of Steve’s warmth remained.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on. If I knew I was gonna have to watch you make googly-eyes at each other all night, I could have stayed home. I get enough of that as it is.”
“We’re not—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Eddie scoffed. “You are. He is. Just make a move, already.”
It was actually painful rolling your eyes as hard as you did. “Right. Sure. And what kind of move am I supposed to make? Considering how he ran out of here just because I touched his arm?”
“You’re not serious, are you? You’re pulling my dick, right?”
Eddie hunched forward as you deadpanned him, answering with a slow blink of your eyes and humorless expression until he threw his head back in a loud laugh.
“He had a fucking boner, smartass!” he cackled.
It’s not only your cheeks that warm now, but your whole body igniting like a bonfire. The feeling grips your shoulders, it’s talons digging into your flesh, threatening to pierce it to the bone.
“Bullshit,” you whispered, your mind reeling.
“You think I don’t know Steve well enough to know when he goes from six to midnight? It happens literally any time you touch him.”
Eddie was still snickering to himself as he took a final puff of the joint that had been smoked down to a nub. You stared at your hands in your lap, thoughts going into overdrive. Because this wasn’t just some random guy at the Hideout or an ex-classmate hitting on you at a house party. This wouldn’t be just a fumbled touch, grabby hands groping blindly in a dark closet that you would recount to Eddie before he gave you the orgasm you’d sorely been denied.
This was Steve. This would be something. Wouldn’t it?
“Only one way to find out,” Eddie said, as though he could hear the question you were asking yourself. “Anything’s gotta be better than this.”
“But what if he—”
The rattle of the doorknob cut you off, your eyes darted to the door just as Steve pushed it open to slip back inside. Eddie’s dark curls fell forward, sliding off his shoulders as he leaned in.
“Just follow my lead,” he whispered.
Your eyes bulged in your skull, but before you could retort or argue, Steve had plopped back down in the chair next to you and your lips were effectively sealed.
“So the singing is still going on,” he chuckled. “But I think everyone will head home soon. We aren’t missing much.”
“That’s okay.” Eddie groaned softly into a stretch as he settled back into his reclined position. “I’m sure we can think of something to do.”
Heat flooded your core at his insinuating tone and you sat up a little straighter. He let his head loll to the side, his eyes finding yours automatically, dark irises glinting in the scant light.
“Hey…c’mere, doll.”
Eddie shifted down in his seat, rubbing his ringed hand across his thigh as an invitation. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was the fancy, and surely expensive, champagne you’d been sipping all night. Maybe it was the way Steve’s gaze followed you so intently as you stood and walked over to where Eddie sat on the wicker sofa. Whatever it was, it was working.
You laid your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself as you kneeled on the cushion next to him and went to straddle his lap. But his hands came up to grip your waist and stopped you.
“Uh-uh,” he said, motioning his index finger in a circle. “Other way.”
You hesitated, glancing from your crouched position over at Steve. His eyes smoldered in the darkness as he watched you—leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees, his long fingers laced in front of him. With a hard swallow, you stood and turned.
Eddie jerked you back against him, roughly pulling you flush with his chest. His knees pushed between your own and he spread them wide so your legs were held open, draped over the tops of his thighs. It made the skirt of your dress glide upwards, hem skimming the tops of your stockings, threatening to reveal the strips of bare skin between them and your panties.
His words from earlier still rang in your head. Follow my lead.
Well-worn hands splayed wide across your stomach, squeezing at the softness of your waist. Beneath you, his hips began to shift and the beginnings of his hard-on pressed insistently into the fat of your ass. It made you shiver all over, a gasp falling from your lips.
“So well behaved,” Eddie hummed, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips, suddenly gripping your chin in his hand to turn your face towards him. “She’s such a good girl, Stevie…. and we have so much fun together…”
The words and the deep timbre of his voice sent more shivers down your spine as he bumped the tip of your nose with his own. He pecked lightly at your lips until they opened up for him, his tongue probing the warm cavern of your mouth until you were moaning into his kiss.
It was lazy, but punishing. He nipped gently at your top lip, his own feathering with a tiny snarl as he revered back to his conversation with Steve.
“Why don’t you tell her about that photo you found?” he asked, hot breath fanning across your cheek. “Tell her what you thought about it.”
Your gaze flashed to Steve’s and you wondered if there was more light in here whether you’d be able to see a rush of scarlet covering his cheeks. His eyes had gone round with nervous energy, but they remained locked onto yours as he spoke.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” he rasped, his voice almost cracking his throat was so tight. “I wish I could see it again, I…I wish it was me she’d done that for.”
The pit of your belly burned at his words, a breathy sigh fluttering in your chest and an exquisite ache now radiating between your legs. Eddie’s fingers trailed along the center of your body, over your sternum, tracing the dip of your navel through your dress until it quivered under his touch.
Slowly, he drew up the bottom of your dress like a curtain to reveal your core and the black lace your arousal had begun to seep through. The tips of his fingers stroked your entrance, mercilessly teasing your second set of lips.
“You wouldn’t believe how good she feels, Steve,” Eddie husked, his fingers holding their pace, making you grind into his lap. “Way better than that prissy cheerleader pussy you’re used to.”
The room filled with the sound of your breath and the wet schlick of Eddie’s fingers in your folds.
“Oh, sorry,” Eddie snickered. “I should say honor society pussy.”
Steve’s nostrils suddenly flared, his gaze tearing away from you and your body as if coming out of a trance. You looked back over your shoulder with a horrified look.
“Eddie—”
“Shush,” he snapped, cutting you off by plunging his fingers inside of you. They hooked upwards and your back bowed at the sudden stretch, a broken moan slipping past your lips. Steve’s eyes were drawn to your face at the sound, Eddie’s mention of his ex flying right out of his head.
“You want a taste, Harrington?” he asked, all dark and leading.
A little whimper escaped you at the thought and Eddie grinned wickedly. He smiled as he kissed the back of your neck, his teeth flashing as he nipped at your racing pulse.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart? You’d like his tongue?”
“Y-yes,” you gasped, your eyes darting to find Steve’s. “Please.”
At your plaintive mewl, the very moment you asked, Steve instantly rose to his feet and hurried to kneel between yours and Eddie’s spread legs. His long fingers wrapped around the gusset of your underwear and he wrenched them to the side to reveal your dripping core.
He licked his lips as he stared at it, practically salivating. Your own lips trembled, fighting back the urge to cry out for him as you let your head fall back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.
The wet heat of his tongue met your pussy in long, languid swipes. He nodded his head with each motion, dragging it through your folds as he inhaled deep and needy breaths of your scent like you were his air. His eyes burned with lust as he looked up from between your thighs, gauging your every reaction in the way you fluttered around his tongue.
With a trembling hand, you reached out and brushed your fingertips along his brow, skimming the stray pieces of hair that had fallen forward into his eyes. The intensity of his stare, the depth of his gaze, made you glow brighter even than that behemoth of a tree inside.
He sped up his movements, working you up, the tip of his tongue pointed to swirl in a pattern as magical as it was maddening, flicking it teasingly over your clit and making you clench with each too-quick pass. At the same time, you felt Eddie’s hand creep up between your shoulder blades, fingers weaving into your hair to grasp it at the root. He gave it a firm tug and pulled your head back, bringing his lips to your ear so he could whisper to you—deep and rough and just loud enough for Steve to hear.
“Why don’t you tell him how long you’ve wanted this, huh?”
Another pitiful whimper left your lips as Eddie’s other hand squeezed a little more intensely at your chest, tweaking your nipple through your dress, loving how it made you tremble.
“Si-since Junior year,” you panted. “When he w-won the state swim meet…”
Just the thought of that day nearly has you flooding Eddie’s lap and Steve’s mouth. Your mind filled with the memories of it—visions of him in a Speedo that confirmed just about every rumor you’d ever overheard in the girl’s locker room; his arm and back muscles rippling as he pushed himself out of the pool; water spilling over freckled skin, droplets collecting on his shoulders and running down, down, down to where the small of his back met the fullness of his ass.
You had sat in the stands, thighs pressing together, feeling almost perverted staring while he celebrated with his teammates and whipped off his swim cap, his wild hair exploding out of it and making you wonder how he’d even managed to fit it all underneath in the first place.
The mere mention of his glory days seemed to have a similar effect on Steve. The movements of his tongue and lips turned more fervent, more determined to unspool you as he moaned like he’d never tasted anything as good as you.
Tremors began to roll through your body, making your thighs twitch and spasm.
“Tell him how good it feels,” Eddie husked, hips now punching up to create some friction against his own cock as it strained inside his dress pants. “Tell him how much you like it.”
“Yes, Steve, fuck—I love it so much,” you whined. “Keep going, I need it.”
The pretty lilt and waver of your voice had Steve unraveling before your very eyes. Another low groan rumbled from deep in his chest and he buried his face further, more eagerly, in your heat.
“God, you taste so fucking good, honey,” he moaned. “I could do this all night.”
The thought of having his mouth on you all night is enthralling, but there was no way you would last. You were barely going to make it another minute as it was. Steve was too good.
Every flick, every swipe, every swirl of his tongue you could feel in your entire body. Pleasure rushed across you in waves, a torturous winding upwards, that burning feeling deep in your gut coiling tighter, tighter. Your breaths grew shallow and your pulse raced until you were shaking in Eddie’s lap, fighting so hard to keep your legs spread apart that they shook from the effort.
Steve’s hands came up to grasp at your thighs, his fingers squeezing at the meat of them as he kept you pried open for him to ravish. Like a man possessed, he lapped and sucked and kissed at your entrance, his whole body seeming to move along with the motions of his tongue and lips. Beneath you, the wicker couch suddenly slid backwards and you realized it was because he had tried to grind against it—desperate to feel something, anything, against his cock.
Wishing it was you.
“C-close, close, I’m so close. Steve, I’m co—oohhh—”
Your orgasm rushed in, plowing through your body, making you lose all sense. You squirmed wildly in Eddie’s lap, almost having forgotten he was there until he reached around to give both of your nipples one last pinch—knowing how it always pushed you further over the edge.
Steve’s lips never left your clit and his eyes never left your face as he ushered you into your climax. He stared up at you, his eyes all glassy and round, searching for your reassurance as he rose from between your legs. His face hovered in front of yours and he lifted a hand to cup your jaw, his massive palm warm on your flushed skin as you panted to regain your breath.
“Good?” he asked. Hushed, like a prayer.
“So good,” you exhaled, chest still heaving. Your voice wobbled as you spoke, so overwhelmed with all your buried feelings being dredged to the surface. “Steve, that was—”
“Steven? Are you out here?”
Every hair on Steve’s head went flying as he whipped his head around hearing his mother’s voice. Through the sheer curtains, he could see her as she stepped outside onto the porch, peering into the darkness, wrapping a fur stole tighter around her elegant cocktail attire.
Panic struck his face like lightning, his mouth hanging open, his lips and chin still shiny with your spend. He looked back at you, his cheeks nearly as deep red as the velvet ribbons hung all over his house. You scrambled off Eddie’s lap to stand, frantically straightening your dress and hair, nervously wiping at your lips that were swollen from biting down when you came.
“I, um…the party’s probably over,” Steve said. “I just have to say goodbye to some people.”
He ran his hands through his hair a few more times as he strode towards the door, even though any damage you’d done grabbing it must have been righted by now. You looked over at Eddie, your own eyes swirling with questions you were terrified to hear the answers to.
His shoulders bounced, standing to tuck his shirttail back into his dress pants.
“Well, that’s one way to do it.”.
Steve was waiting in the foyer with you and Eddie’s coats when you snuck in from outside. His parents, thankfully, were too occupied giving the caterers instructions for clean-up to exchange any pleasantries at the door. You could only imagine how that would go…
Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. I’m the girl your son made come all over his face in your pool house. What a lovely party, thank you so much for inviting us.
There was still a smile on Steve’s face, though it felt almost pasted on now compared to his expression when you first arrived, sort of forced in an attempt to look more normal than he felt. He handed off Eddie’s leather jacket and then held yours open, his eyes remaining glued to you as you turned and pushed your arms through the sleeves. His fingertips trailed along the nape of your neck as he helped straighten the coat on your shoulders, his index tracing its curve all the way to your hairline in a way that felt so intentional it made your skin buzz.
With your ears pounding from your heartbeat thundering in them, you spun around to face him, your lips parted to speak only for no words to come. Because what was there for you to say? Or for him to do? Kiss you? He hadn’t even done that during, would he do it now to say goodbye?
Steve’s handsome face was as conflicted and contorted as your own. A faint blush still dusted along his cheeks and his eyes shone bright from the candlelight coming off the tapers that had burned almost all the way out. At last he drew a breath, and you felt your heart stutter.
“Thank you for coming,” he said softly.
Eddie could barely contain the snort that burst out of him, even as he slapped a hand over his crooked smile and your eyes shot daggers straight into his chest.
You couldn’t get out the door fast enough.
There was only silence as the pair of you trudged along the driveway to the street where Eddie had parked his van, the snow on the ground having melted into slush mottled with gray where it mixed with excess oil on the road. Without the glow of the Christmas lights coming off the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, the darkness of Steve’s street now felt oppressive.
It made you walk a little quicker to the van, your hand curled tight around the passenger side door handle waiting for Eddie to unlock it. As the two of you climbed inside the cab, he cranked the engine and flipped open the air vents for the heat to blast, finally breaking his silence as you yanked your door shut behind you with a sharp tug.
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? I thought I was helping,” Eddie muttered, his hands gripping tight around the steering wheel. “You were being so fucking obvious, I thought you needed a push.”
His chunky rings glinted in the street light as he busied himself messing with the radio, static scratching in your ears as he searched for something besides Christmas music.
“Are you really mad?” he asked, still fiddling with the dial, barely able to look at you.
You shook your head.
“I just…I don’t know, I feel like it’s weird now.” You let your face fall into your hands and shook your head furiously. “I mean, was that totally fucked up? To do that?”
“Nah, that wasn’t fucked up,” Eddie said assuredly.
He sounded confident enough that you let your shoulders actually relax and finally expelled the breath you were holding. The relief was short-lived though, when Eddie piped up again.
“I’ll tell you what might be, though.”
With a heavy sigh, you looked over at him warily. “What?” you asked.
Eddie sighed as he slumped back against the seat. His foot rested on the gas pedal and he pressed it down lightly, barely revving the engine to get some hot air flowing from the vents.
“When he comes over for Christmas Eve.”
Thank you so much for reading, I appreciate any time taken to read/comment endlessly ♥️
Started on this last year in December so that should tell you everything you need to know about my writing process. Enjoy some Christmas in whatever-month-you’re-reading-this. 😉
i love making friends in fandom, i love playing with our toys together, i love coming up with increasingly niche aus, i love lifting strangers up, i love motivating people to create, i love watching someone get excited over an idea and immediately running with it, i love yelling in tags together, i love seeing someone gain confidence in their writing/art because people were kind to them <33
