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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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✨STEDDIE FICLET: BOYS WILL BE BOYS

!! masturbation, general horny energy/vibe (lol), discovering sexuality !!

steve and eddie arguing over who has the bigger dick. they’re just friends. they’ve never seen each other naked.

steve and eddie getting out the ruler to compare dick sizes.

it’s a game. it’s something to play. it’s something to pass the time.

boys will be boys.

steve and eddie, joking around, fumbling to get their pants around their thighs, excited by the competitive air between them. quipping. ruffling each others feathers. making light in the dead of winter.

steve and eddie falling silent.

steve’s breath hitching.

eddie’s eyes widening.

flushed red of arousal rushing to their cheeks as everything becomes a bit too real.

steve gulping.

eddie watching the pitiful up and down movement of his adam’s apple. bobbing beautifully under all those pretty moles on his decadent throat.

eddie hardening. stiffening up rapidly because steve’s standing there—so close—squirming around and whimpering like a slut.

“it happens,” steve says as if it really does, “ ‘s nothing to be ashamed of. c’mon. i’ll measure you, if you measure me.”

eddie nodding, barking a laugh, choking on something heavy.

tonguing the sharp edge of his teeth to counteract and distract from the thrumming pleasure—the threat his hips pose to buck up into the warm grasp of steve’s hand circling around his leaking tip.

steve and eddie lining up their cocks, because it’s ‘easier to tell.’

numbers are too difficult.

numbers are useless.

why use numbers when they have four hands between them to compare and stroke over their lengths?

gentle fingers to dip down and cup each others balls like something precious to behold. tickling. smiling.

careful not to make eye contact. careful not to make it real.

steve and eddie groaning like untamed beasts when they press their aching dicks together. skin to skin.

wet. slippery. burning up with forbidden fever. the urge to close every existing gap is palpable.

so easy to break.

so easy to shatter.

“guess we’re about the same size. funny. who would’ve thought?”

eddie plays the fool. plays the whole thing off as a joke. tears his eyes away but doesn’t miss the opportunity to rub a flat palm over both of their cockheads before retreating like the coward he believes himself to be.

bashful. ashamed. terrified of the truth. terrified of the monster he is. vicious and destructive in all matters of the self.

speeding car on a dead end path.

“g-guess so. yeah. funny.”

steve’s voice is distant, murky, undone, and empty. brows furrowed. lips bitten.

he’s beautiful and strange. colored all shades of pink. hairy thighs. soft heart. golden boy.

steve and eddie zipping themselves back into their jeans. making separate excuses about this and that.

“gotta get going—”

“me too—”

“band practice—”

“dinner with robin—”

“see ya later—”

“yeah—”

steve and eddie touching themselves, alone in their rooms—later that night.

moon high. beds cold. moans hidden behind clenched fists.

steve humping his pillow.

faster, harder than he’s done in a long time. eddie’s rings and silver tongue on his mind. he’s drunk on it. dizzy and loose.

eddie fucking himself open with a toy. legs spread wide. tongue between teeth. hand on his stomach to feel the bulge where he dreams steve’s pretty cock might some day be, if he’s lucky.

steve and eddie cumming at the same time, across town, and reaching for the phone at the exact same instant.

“i need you—”

“i miss you—”

“come over—”

“i’m already on my way.”

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @jjoesjonas @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @mcneen @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @rugbertgoeshome @neverlandwaitingforme @anglhrts @swiss-cheeze

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bugboysteve · 1 month

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posted a steddie fic over on ao3 a few days ago if you’d like to check it out <3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/54501271/chapters/138077935

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie smut #eddie munson smut #steddie #steddie ao3 #ao3 steddie #ao3 eddie munson #ao3 steve harrington

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cinnamoncitric · 1 year

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Eddie Munson hates Pavlov.

He knows jack shit of Biology, but this is one of the tidbits he found genuinely interesting and therefore immediately and permanently etched into his brain. A brain which, of course, clearly has it out for him.

Classical conditioning, he thinks. Like a dog with a bell. Objectively, it's a good theory. Very solid. Create an association between two stimuli – one of which the subject has an instinctual, involuntary reaction to – and then the second stimulus provokes the same reaction as the first. Ring a bell enough times while a dog is eating, and then just the sound of the bell is enough to make it salivate. He's pretty sure neither he nor Mr. Baker from Sophomore Biology ever thought it'd come to this, though.

The thing is, and this is where the hate comes in. If Eddie hadn't ever learned about any of this, he might not have connected the dots. Might have just chalked it up to coincidence and spared himself the humiliation, but no. His mind had to dredge up a scrap of knowledge quite useless to namely everything else in his life, just to make sure he loses sleep at night. As it stands, though, the truth is uncontestable – he has a Pavlovian response to the smell of Steve Harrington's deodorant.

Batshit crazy. Absolutely bonkers. But here he is, waving goodbye to normalness from his compulsory seat at the Crazy train.

What happened is this: Eddie is in the supermarket aisle, fervently debating between Cheerios and Lucky Charms, when a complete stranger reaches around him to get a box from the aisle. He startles, consequently breathes harder, and accidentally catches a whiff. Not for a second does the other man falter in his stride, returning to his cart and moving along with the blessing of obliviousness. And Eddie is just left standing there, staring in the face of unwanted epiphany.

One whiff. One accidental whiff of the stuff he distinctly remembers smelling on Steve, fresh out of the shower, and he's suddenly experiencing a very confusing physical reaction to have while standing in an aisle under the watchful stare of printed cereal mascots designed for children.

His hands start sweating. His heartbeat skyrockets. Half of his blood supply rushes to his face while the rest rushes, well, south. Safe to say, it's a very awkward trip to the counter.

And the only thing he can think of, as he avoids the cashier's eyes, as his hands slip on the steering wheel, as he realizes he forgot the damn cereal, is:

Goddamn Sophomore Biology.

#steddie #stranger things #steddie ficlet #st headcanons #eddie munson #steve harrington #might add this to my fic later on #rabies boys #ao3 steddie

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steddiescrunkle · 5 months

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so i just posted another smut oneshot if y'all wanna check it out <3

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ao3 steddie #ao3fic #steddie stranger things #vampire eddie munson #trans steve harrington #trans eddie munson #t4t steddie #steddie smut #ao3 smut

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lunaraindrop · 7 months

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...how does one get the elusive Beta?

Like, should I leave out cookies and almond milk, or...?

#steddie #ao3 steddie #looking for a beta reader #this will be an adventure of epic proportions #luna is a writer

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st-hc-s · 1 year

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As much as I love reading fix it steddie fics (and I cannot stress this enough, I LOVE reading them) I am a pretty rigid thinker so I find myself being overly critical of the ways some people choose to rewrite the ending of season 4. It’s all baseless nitpicky stuff but I’m usually saying things along the lines of “the duffers wouldn’t write it like that” or “that’s pretty unrealistic.” So instead of being the Scrooge of steddie fics and grumbling without offering solutions, here is my fix it that I think would be canon compliant and still play along with the bullshit that the duffers are capable of pulling.

- -

It’s 1988. Hawkins, Indiana is experiencing extreme heavy rainfall and flash flooding, and has been for the last 2 weeks. To many outsiders, the town of Hawkins would be deemed a disaster zone, a now uninhabitable town of despair and ruin. To the few residents that remain, it’s all standard fodder. The thunder and the heavy rainfall is now background noise to some. There are a select few, however, who fear what the thunder could bring and are not totally fond of what follows. Those few are The Party, or rather what’s left of it. To them the thunder brings back memories of rancid, ashy air and the smell of decay. It brings back memories of death and dying, loss and heartbreak. To Dustin Henderson, the thunder brings back memories of the older brother figure he never got to spend enough time with. It reminds him of Eddie Munson.

Dustin sits on his bed, rocking back and forth to stop the anxiety from overtaking his body. It’s bad tonight. It’s always bad on nights like this. He knows what to do when it gets like this he just wishes he never has to.

Dustin tiptoes to the kitchen, praying he doesn’t wake up his cat, Tews or worse, his mother. If she sees him in this kind of state, with tear tracks littered down his cheeks, she will not let up until he confesses what’s ailing him. She’s a good mother, Claudia Henderson. She always has been. Dustin thinks of how lucky he is to have her. Any other night he’d give in and let her comfort him but on the bad nights, like tonight, even if he wanted to share his history of the Upside Down with her, he couldn’t. It’s a horrifyingly evil secret that he’s sworn to protect her from.

He grabs the phone off the wall and tiptoes backwards into his room, thanking his lucky stars that his mother bought the phone with the extra long cord. Once Dustin’s certain that she’s too absorbed in her cheesy romance novel to look up and see him, he closes his bedroom door as quietly as he can. Without hesitating he begins dialling the number he knows so well and calls the Harrington house. Steve answers within 2 rings.

The concern in Steve’s “Hello?” is enough to bring Dustin back to the brink of tears, tears that he thought he had long finished shedding.

“Steve,” followed by a sniffle.

“Dustin? Are you okay?” Steve already knows the answer, on a night like tonight, why else would Dustin call?

“Steve… I miss him.”

Steve sighs. “I know Dustin, I know you do. I do too.”

“He’s got to be out there somewhere right? He can’t be dead?”

“Dustin you can’t do this to yours-“

“Because if he is, then we killed him. We left him to die.”

The tears are coming hard and fast now, searingly hot as they fall down Dustin’s cheeks.

“No, hey, listen - we brought him back Dustin, we didn’t leave him anywhere. We brought him back through so he wouldn’t stay in - in - that place. He was gone… Dustin, there was nothing we could do.”

They both think back to that fateful night. Both sets of memories shrouded in misery and grief. That night Dustin watched as the light died in his best friends eyes, and felt as blood that wasn’t his soak through his clothes. Steve watched as the younger brother he always wanted, cradle a deceased Eddie in his arms, wailing as he refused to let him go.

“NO! NO! NOOOO! I’M NOT LEAVING HIM! I’M NOT LEAVING HIM TO DIE!”

Robin, fear and despair thickening her voice says, “Dustin please, we have to go! Vecna isn’t dead, we don’t know where he is!”

“NO WE CAN’T LEAVE HIM HERE! HE’S NOT DEAD - HE’S NOT -“

Now nancy tries to reason, ever the calm one, “Dustin, I know -“

“NO YOU DON’T! I’M NOT LEAVING HIM HERE! JUST GO - YOU GUYS GO AND I’LL STAY!”

Steve has stayed back this whole time. It always takes him longer to take it all in but in moments like this, where the heaviness can’t be denied, he’s even slower. As Nancy and Robin both plead with Dustin, their voices heavy with desperation, he pushes through them. He kneels opposite Dustin, on Eddie’s other side, getting a close up look, for the first time, at the severity of the wounds. Steve chokes back a gag as he meets Dustin’s eyes.

“We’ll bury him. We’ll say a proper goodbye, okay? We’re not gonna leave him here, we wouldn’t do that.”

Nancy starts, “Steve we don’t have time - “

“We’ll bury him.” Firm and strong.

Dustin softens, “Really?”

“Will you let me carry him through? If you grab his stuff and mine - will you let me carry him through?”

“We’ll give him a proper burial?”

Steve nods.

Dustin lets out a meek “Okay” as he leans back.

They spend the next 20 minutes finding a way through the gate at the Munson trailer. Eventually they find a step ladder just tall enough for Steve to push both Eddie’s body and Dustin through as he can’t move much, his ankle seeming pretty far gone.

Once back in Hawkins, they each, Nancy, Robin & Dustin, grab something to dig with and make their way alongside Steve, still carrying Eddie’s body, to the forest tree line near the park. They dig as much as their tired bodies allow before placing his body in the trench. They tie Eddie’s bandana to his spear where Robin sticks it firmly in the ground at the head of Eddie’s makeshift grave.

They all say a few words, as clearly as they can through their sobs. The words they share that night stay between them, too personal and harrowing to share beyond that space.

“He can’t really be dead Steve. He can’t.”

“Dustin-“

“No listen! El came back, Hop came back, even El’s creepy dad came back and we all thought they were dead. Would it be so crazy after the shit we’ve seen?”

“I know Dustin, I know - I hear you, but what about Barb… what about Bob and - and - Billy? They’re not coming back. They’re dead, Dustin. I know you want him back but it’s been 2 years. You can’t do this to yourself. He’s gone. Eddie’s gone.”

The silence they share is painful.

“Yeah. You’re right. I was stupid to think it anyway.”

“Dustin, hey, come on now - “

“I’m okay, I just… needed to be talked down. Thank you for listening Steve.”

“Dustin!” But the line is already dead.

Dustin spends that night crying himself to sleep, with all the lights and lamps on, as he does every night, just in case Eddie tries to make contact.

Steve never tells anyone this (except Robin, he tells her everything) but it kills him whenever Dustin calls to talk through his theories on how Eddie could still be alive. The hope it gives Dustin never acts as a comfort to Steve, but rather a catalyst for an intense bout of panic and guilt. He especially never shares these feelings with Lucas and Dustin, and even Mike who was surprisingly close to Eddie. He’s scared to tell anyone this but Eddie’s death hit him hard. Harder than he would have thought possible for the short amount of time he knew him, like really knew him.

The grief haunts him, constantly. The few moments of reprieve he has from thoughts of Eddie feel like heaven. Then when he remembers it all, his world crashes down around him, like he’s seeing Eddie, dead, in Dustin’s arms for the first time again. The pain has never subsided or gotten easier.

He feels that nauseating guilt make its way through his veins now as his hands start to shake. Luckily his parents have long since fled Hawkins and he has the house to himself as he lets out a wracking sob. At least he can grieve in private. Steve falls to his knees and he knows he won’t make it upstairs to his room this time. The panic attack overwhelms him and he falls flat to the floor. Eventually he falls asleep here after hours of tears and pain and apologies to the beautiful, dead boy he’ll never see again. The next morning he wakes to puffy eyes and that familiar hopeless feeling, as he has done almost everyday for the past 2 years.

MEANWHILE

The rain lets off steam on the road’s surface as it lands. These aren’t normal raindrops, ones you would typically find during the rainy seasons of Indiana. No, these are violent, landing with an audible thud. They seem to carry so much more that just water from the sky, they carry things like pollution and ash. Since the Upside Down has taken over Hawkins, any type of abnormal weather (outside of the now standard drab, dreary grey skies) is intense and ruinous. Rainfall turns to floods and cyclones. Lightning turns to electrical storms that lead to forest fires. Wind causes dust walls taller than the old mall that swarm and decimate what’s left of the town. The few brave residents that have stayed spend most of their time indoors due to the unpredictable and furious weather. Tonight is no exception.

The thunder is particularly loud tonight, it’s cracking is so violent and sudden that the ground vibrates with each boom. The grass of the Forest Hills Trailer Park is absolutely flooded now. You couldn’t walk more than 2 steps before having to turn back and change your shoes due to the amount of mud. As thunder cracks and a bright shot of lightning hits a tree on the forests’ edge, the ground begins to shake. There is a small clearing past the tree line, about 8 feet or so in, where a mound appears to move. You’d never notice it if you weren’t looking for it, but the spot is wriggling, as if something is pushing up from underneath it.

The mound gets taller as the movement gets faster, more desperate, like an animal trying to dig its way out. Suddenly something breaks through the surface, the dirt it is caked in immediately cleaned off by the heavy rainfall. It’s a hand. Followed by an arm, a shoulder, a head. A head covered in matted, unruly dark hair, lots of it too. The figure pants as it pulls the rest of its body out of the hole it came from. The filth covering it washing off quickly. The figure takes a moment to breathe once its face is clear. It looks up to the sky and… laughs. It laughs. Not manically, not hysterically. It’s a joyous laugh, as if what it is viewing is amongst the greatest things it’s ever seen.

“It’s good to be back,” Eddie Munson says to himself, deep and gravelly, determined yet elated.

Eddie steps away from the shallow grave from which he came and makes his way through the heavy downpour to find his friends. This is gonna be good, he thinks.

#ao3 steddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fix it fic #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fix it #steddie ficlet #stranger things fix it fic #steve x eddie

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eddiemsbandana · 1 year

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guys pls give me good steddie fics on ao3. i feel like i’ve read all i could find. i need recommendations🙇🏻‍♂️🙇🏻‍♂️

#steddie #ao3 steddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #ao3 #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #using tags so ppl acc see it ig???

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libraryofgage · 5 months

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Summary: Steve is a modern boy dealing with modern problems: existential dread, anger at a world he can't fix, and the inescapable feeling that he'll never be able to name what's missing from his life. And then his parents buy him a house, an alternate dimension in desperate need of help yeets him to the 80s to fix things, and he falls in love with a maybe-murderer-but-not-really metalhead along the way.

IT'S HERE!

To celebrate the official posting of this fic, the first 3 chapters have been posted together!

I'm planning to update on Sunday and/or Thursday, so you will get at least one chapter a week.

Also, the entire fic is written, so if you prefer to wait for it to be fully posted before reading, that is an option lol

Anyway, things to keep in mind:

Explicit rating is for both smut and gore in the later chapters

I'll do my best to make sure each chapter has appropriate warnings at the beginning, but if I've missed something or haven't put anything, feel free to let me know! Same goes for tags

Finally, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

#steddie #steddie fic #modern steve in 80s hawkins #i will continue to use that tag cuz the title is so long fhdks #ao3 steddie #my writing #i'm so excited about this #y'all don't even know

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infinite-orangepeel · 1 year

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EAGLESCOUT!STEVE/PERV EDDIE WIP EXCERPT FROM CH. 1

Capture the flag is all fun and games until it’s time to clean up the equipment and Steve is wandering through the woods trying not to infect himself with poison ivy like the better half of his troop did an hour ago. Now being treated by their resident Scoutmaster/Chief of Police–Jim Hopper–with calamine lotion and an eye roll.

He’s out on his own.

Strategically voyaging through the underbrush in search of the blue team’s flag. It’s the last one on his list and he’s dying to get back to basecamp to snag a refreshing post-win lemonade with the rest of the troop. Already salivating from the promise of tangy sweetness.

The sun is about to set. Sky blushing pink while the owls hoot from the branches of pine trees. Calling out to each other in harmonious song as the day comes to a close.

Steve’s back is sticky and warm from directing the game. His cheeks are flushed, exposed thighs bitten up by mosquitoes despite multiple reapplications of Deet, and his glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose from the slick sweat coating his brow bone.

To be honest, despite the itchy heat and craving for something ice cold down his throat, Steve looks forward to rare moments like this one.

In which he can breathe easily in the reverie of temporary independence.

No one to perform for.

No one to stop him from humming a tune under his breath and stopping every so often to investigate a patch of blooming elderberries.

No one to chastise him for plopping an unwashed piece of fruit under his tongue and taking his time to savor the sweetness.

No one to point fingers and accuse him of gluttony.

Out here in the quiet, Steve can pretend all that exists are the mourning doves, rabbits running from foxes, and the subtle breeze kissing the lakeshore.

He’s content. He’s at peace.

He’s—

He’s choking on his spit at the sight of the terrible scene in front of him—two men dancing with Satan beside a picnic table.

Two men entangled in an inconceivable fashion.

Two men running their hands over each other’s skin; half naked.

Two men–

Together.

Together in the way that only a man and his wife are supposed to be once they’ve married in the church, sworn vows, and moved into the modest house at the end of the cul-de-sac beneath the weeping willows.

Steve racks his brain. Unfolds the information–the proof from the good book–that every belief he holds relies on.

The verse, he thinks–thoughts spiraling out of control, ingrained savior complex kicking in, What about the verse? Don’t they know it? Didn’t their parents warn them? It’s—Hebrews 13:4; ‘Let marriage be held in honor among all, and let the marriage bed be undefiled for God will judge the sexually immoral and adulterous.’

They’ve yet to notice him. As if he’s camouflaged amongst the pine trees. Khaki blending in seamlessly like he’s just another part of the natural landscape.

In a sense, he is.

The first of the two men sinks to his knees like he’s praying for mercy as Steve has done all his life in the back of the chapel. He gazes up at the other man like he is God. Like he alone holds the divine power to cleanse sin, turn water to wine, and carve Eve from Adam’s rib.

Except, Eve doesn’t exist in this version of the story.

Eve is nowhere to be found and Steve feels like he’s entered a parallel universe where none of the former rules apply. Where this strange subset of humanity has scorched the Earth, burned the devoted ones at the stake, and anarchy now reigns.

The second stands above him in the widened prideful stance of a known pariah who foolishly believes he can outrun impending rapture and escape eternal damnation if he is clever and quick enough on his feet.

Steve can’t see his face, because similarly to the vile act he’s committing, the man is concealed by a vexing darkness. Curly tendrils of wild hair obscure his identity.

It’s odd. Unlike anyone else Steve’s ever known. Overgrown and hanging well past his shoulders. It doesn’t make sense.

Only girls are allowed to wear their hair like that. Boys like this—boys like him get sent away for such infractions. Excommunicated for their betrayal to patriarchal norms.

Men are supposed to look like men.

This man does not.

This man seems to toe and test every line and boundary like nothing can touch him.

Steve tries to get his feet to move so he can turn and run and disappear into the forest like the rest of God’s innocent creatures–the field mice, the deer, the fish in the pond–find somewhere hidden to seek asylum and preserve his fragile righteousness.

But latent curiosity slithers around him like a serpent with a fatal bite.

No cure.

No remedy.

Steve has no choice. All logical thought abandons him and perhaps for the first time in his life, he allows himself to simply watch and feel.

The man who doesn’t look all that much like a man leans a ring-covered hand back onto the rickety table like it's his personal throne and feeds his–his—genitals to the parted lips of the first.

Steve brings a hand to his own gawking mouth, ducks behind a tree to better shield himself, and tries to stall his racing heart.

“Lemme fuck your throat, baby. Open wide—wider. C’mon now play nice for me. If you’re not gagging on my cock then you can take it deeper,” the man rasps out as he thrusts his hips forwards and ensnares his black tipped nails into the hair of the kneeling man like vicious talons, “Good boy–there we go. Someone’s learned their lesson since last time, haven’t they? Stay open for me, sweetheart—keep that tongue nice and relaxed.”

thanks so much for reading !! please let me know what you think, feedback is always motivating and helpful 🥰

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