#campcounselor!reader

MORNING WALK

⋆˚࿔ you and steve sneak off into the woods while everyone’s still asleep

word count: 2.0k

cw: mdni, groping, brief fingering, unprotected sex, reader gets folded like an omelet, cum play (?), overstimulation, steve’s kind of a cornball and he talks you thru it

You’d agreed on it last night — nothing obvious, nothing anyone could overhear. Just a quiet, ‘Tomorrow. Early. Same spot.’ as he quickly walked past you. Simple as that.

Steve leans against a tree when you find him, arms crossed, green sweatshirt thrown over a white tee, hair still sleep-ruffled. He looks up at the sound of you approaching, and something shifts in his expression. He seemed relieved, as if you’ve never shown up to see him.

“There you are,” he says, a small smile biting at the corners of his mouth.

“I said I’d come,” you reply as you stand next to him, casually observing the pink and orange hues in the sky.

The camp is silent behind you. No cabin doors slamming, no whistles; just birds and the distant creak of the flagpole rope in the breeze.

Steve eventually shifts his weight and glances down the narrow trail winding deeper into the woods. After a moment, he starts walking.

You fall in beside him a second later.

For a few steps there’s only the soft crunch of pine needles under your shoes before he finally speaks.

“You ready for that relay race today?” he asks looking over his shoulder, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his sweatpants.

You glance back at him, shrugging one shoulder. “Oh boy, am I,” your words were dry, making Steve smile at your faux enthusiasm. “My girls are gonna wipe the floor with your cubs, though,” you add casually with a smile.

Steve slows to a stop beside you.

You take another step before noticing and turn back to him. He’s standing there with one eyebrow raised, a small, disbelieving smile tugging at his mouth.

“Wow,” he says, shaking his head a little. “Okay.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, lifting your hands slightly. “You know someone’s gotta come in second…..or third. Maybe fourth.” Steve scoffs under his breath, starting forward again.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mutters, waving a hand like he’s brushing the whole thing off. “Keep talking. We’ll see what happens,”

“I know exactly what’ll happen,” you say maybe a little too confidently.

“The Cottontails come in first, of course,” you begin, counting on your fingers as you walk. “beating everyone including the Ducks, the Chipmunks, and especially your scrappy cubs”

Steve lets out a quiet, skeptical laugh under his breath. “You believe that?”

“Absolutely.”

He studies you for a second like he’s deciding something, then gestures vaguely down the trail ahead.

“Alright,” he says. “Little test run, first one to that sign wins, GO!”

Before you can even ask what he means, he takes off.

It takes you a second to realize he’s serious before you break into a run after him, laughing under your breath as the quiet woods suddenly fill with the sound of both of you crashing through tall grass and crunchy leaves.

Steve’s a few strides ahead, glancing behind him just long enough to make sure you’re actually chasing him.

You push harder, trying to close the distance, when suddenly he stumbles. Hard.

Steve goes down in a tangle of limbs, clutching at his leg with a sharp hiss.

Your pace drops immediately. “Steve?” You rush the last few steps toward him, breath still uneven from the run. “Are you okay?”

He’s hunched forward, hand gripping his calf, face twisted like it actually hurts.

You crouch beside him without thinking. “What happened? Did you pull something?”

The second you reach for his arm, he lunges forward, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you straight down with him. You barely get out a surprised sound before you’re both hitting the ground in a mess of laughter and leaves.

“You- !” you start, half shocked, half laughing.

“Too easy,” he says triumphantly, already grinning.

You shove at his shoulders, trying to escape, but he just follows your movement, fingers finding your ribs. Bits and pieces of nature stick to your clothes, the quiet morning suddenly full of the sound of both of you laughing like hyenas in the dirt. “That’s cheating!”

“Nope, just strategy,” he argues between laughs, still holding you in place.

Steve’s still hovering over you when the laughter starts fading, both of you catching your breath. The woods settle back into their quiet around you, the moment stretching in a different kind of silence now.

You realize how close he really is. Closer than he probably meant to be.

Your smile lingers, but softer now, and Steve’s eyes flick between yours and your mouth like he’s debating something before finally leaning down.

The kiss starts easy, almost careful, as if he’s giving you time to pull away — but when you don’t, it deepens, just as warm as the humid air surrounding you.

Something shifts between you and his mouth grows hungrier, more insistent against yours.

Your hands slide up into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands before giving a gentle tug. Steve breathes out against your mouth, the sound quiet and a little shaky.

He shifts closer, one hand bracing beside your side as his lips leave yours. The warmth of them trails along your jaw, then down the side of your neck. You tilt your head slightly to give him room, fingers still curled loosely in his hair while the early morning air moves softly through the trees around you.

Steve moves like he knows exactly how to get you wanting more, making your head dissolve into a fuzzy mess of fog. All you could feel was the way his fingertips press into your hipbones with an urgency that makes your heart skip a beat, and all that plagues your mind is Steve,Steve,Steve,Steve.

He drifts lower, his forehead brushing your chest as he kisses down your body.

“I never get this much time with you,” he murmurs, voice soft against your skin.

His hands slide to the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal your tits. The light breeze brushes across your sticky skin, but it doesn’t last long before he leans down again.

His lips press little pecks above your navel before his tongue drags a wet stripe up your stomach, past the center of your chest, and finally finding your mouth again.

His knee presses firmly against your center, the pressure pulling a needy sound from you as he licks into your mouth. He grabs one of your tits and begins to greedily knead it with his big hand, occasionally tweaking at your hardened nipple. You grind down without really thinking about it, chasing the steady friction there.

Steve pulls back just enough to catch your lower lip between his teeth, biting down lightly before letting it slip free.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs softly before attaching himself to your throat again. “You know I’ll give it to you,”

“Just need you, ” you whine breathlessly.

That’s all the encouragement he needs. Steve’s hand slips to the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down your legs in a quick, impatient motion before tossing them aside. His lips graze your jaw as he works his hand between your legs.

He drags his fingers teasingly up your folds, and a low groan rumbles in his chest when he feels the slick mess you made. He slowly pushes a single finger into your hole, feeling you clench around the intrusion.

His finger moves lazily, testing your reactions while he watches your face, clearly pleased with himself.

“Look at that,” he mutters, grinning in disbelief. “She’s always ready for me, isn’t she?”

“Need more,” you breath out, your hips rocking up to meet Steve's teasing digit. “Come on Steve,”

“I know, sweet girl,” he replies, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

He shifts back slightly, sitting on his heels as his hands move to the waistband of his sweatpants. Hooking his thumbs inside, he tugs them down along with his boxers, freeing his hard cock.

He positions himself, his fat tip nudging against your entrance and with a deep, guttural groan, he pushes forward, slowly sinking into your needy cunt.

A hiss escaped your lips as Steve's thick cock stretches you open, filling you completely in one deep thrust. Your back arches off the dirt ground, fingers digging into his shoulders as you adjust to the sudden fullness. He starts a steady rhythm, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in, setting a deep, unrelenting pace.

“Wish I could have you like this whenever I want,” His voice took on a whiny, almost desperate edge as he speaks between labored breaths

“So fucking pretty, so perfect,” he mewls, pushing your knees up to your chest, nearly bending you in half as he looms over you. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with desperation as he drives into you with increasing fervor.

He kisses you like a man starved, pouring all his pent-up hunger into the kiss. His hips never falter in their unyielding movements, snapping forward again and again as loses himself in the way your body welcomes him.

“You’re close, I can feel you- oh,” he pants, his voice getting caught in his throat. His hand slides down to rub tight circles over your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

You cry out, your body tensing and shaking as your orgasm crashes through you. Your inner walls clench and flutter wildly around his pistoning cock, gripping him tightly as you come undone.

At the last second, he pulls out, pumping his cock with a tight fist and stroking himself to completion. He cums hard, thick ropes of hot seed erupting from his cock as he aims directly at your swollen pussy, watching in satisfaction as it twitches and pulses at the contact.

Steve stuffs himself back into his pants and leans down, rubbing your sensitive clit with his thumb, smearing his own release into your slick folds.

He leans in to press a sweet, tender kiss to the inside of your thigh and another right onto the overworked little bud. “Just one more for me, I know you got another” he purrs.

He watches your face intently, gauging your reaction as you twitch and jump beneath his touch. “I know, it’s okay, you got it,” His other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, tracing the curve of your lower lip.

Your body trembles vigorously, a second intense orgasm ripping through you as Steve works at your little bundle of nerves.

Steve watches, enraptured, as come down from your high. A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips as he lunges forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He places quick kisses along the column of your throat, making you giggle and squirm beneath him.

He helps you stand up, your legs still a little unsteady as you start straightening yourself out. Old blades of grass cling to your clothes, your hair slightly mussed, but there’s no time to fix it perfectly.

Steve brushes his hands over your shoulders like he’s trying to smooth things out, then glances toward the trail.

“We should probably- ” he starts.

“Yeah,” you cut in, already pulling your shirt back into place.

There’s a beat.

He leans in again — quick this time, and presses one last kiss to the corner of your mouth. It was softer than before and it made your chest curl with warmth.

When you finally make your way back down the trail, the camp is only just beginning to stir. A door creaks somewhere in the distance, a voice calls out sleepily.

At the fork in the path, you split without a word; he goes towards the Bear Cubs’ cabin, and you head to the Cottontails.

By the time breakfast rolls around in the dining hall, it’s all noise and chatter again. Kids dragging their feet, fists flying down on the old tables.

And somewhere between passing trays and morning announcements, you catch his eye, just for a second.

OFF DUTY

⋆˚࿔ steve gets a little more worked up than he anticipated while sharing embarrassing stories

word count: 2.3k

cw: mdni, mutual masturbation, finger sucking, cum eating, switch!steve (more sub leaning in this one)

Most of the lights in the rec room are off, just a single lamp in the corner casting a dim glow over the worn couch and scattered magazines. The window’s cracked open, letting in the sound of crickets and humid air.

Everyone else turned in a while ago, cabins going dark one by one until it’s just the two of you still awake.

Steve’s stretched out across the worn couch, one arm thrown over the back, looking way more relaxed than he ever did back in high school. It’s weird, seeing him like this — no crowd, no facade. Just him.

The conversation flows easily from old teachers and classmates to the movie stars you used to have crushes on back then.

“Phoebe Cates,” he says with a boyish smile plastered across his face.

You glance at him, unimpressed. “Of course.”

He scoffs a little, his face now serious. “No, listen,” He shifts, sitting forward now, elbows on his knees, getting a little more animated.

“When I watched Fast Times at Ridgemont High for the first time, I just kept rewinding that pool scene over and over,” he admits, shaking his head at himself. “I swear I didn’t even care about the rest of the movie,”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” you tease.

“Okay what about you?” he asks, eyeing you. “Since you’ve got so much to say,” Steve leans back into the couch, stretching his arms along the top, his fingertips almost reaching your shoulder.

“Tom Selleck.” you say, picking at the seam of the couch cushion.

There’s a pause. Then he leans forward a little, a small grin forming. “Tom Selleck?”

You nod, completely serious. “Yeah.”

“Okay, c’mon at least be original,”

“What?” you shoot back, sitting up a little. “He’s charming.”

“Charming,” he repeats, nudging your leg with his foot. “That’s what we’re going with?”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Whatever.”

There’s a beat before you speak again, almost sheepishly, “George Michael too.”

That one gets his full attention. His brows lift, and he leans back against the couch, clearly entertained. “Alright, yeah, that one I get.”

You go quiet for a second, wincing at a stupid memory. “I used to think my first boyfriend looked like George Michael,” You scoff, dropping your face into your palm.

“I cannot believe he’s the one that took my virginity,” you mutter, shaking your head, more embarrassed the longer you think about it.

Steve goes quiet for a second, his gaze fixed on a scuff mark on the floorboards. You could see the gears turning,as he debated whether or not to add to your embarrassing confession.

“If it makes you feel any better, my first time wasn’t so great either,” he mumbles. “Tried to put on a cassette and the player ate the tape right at the bridge.” He let out a long, pained exhale, leaning his head back against the cushion.

“It was the longest ten minutes of my life, I think about it every time I hear a synthesizer now.” He turned his head to look at you, a lopsided, vulnerable little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

There’s just enough silence for it to land before you let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh beside him.

The air between you suddenly felt much smaller. Now that the embarrassing stories were out of the way, there was nothing left to buffer the fact that you were sitting inches apart on a cramped couch in the middle of the night.

Steve’s gaze lingers on yours for a beat too long before he abruptly looks away. He clears his throat, his eyes darting around the dim room as if searching for a distraction.

Oh no.

“Well, anyway,” he squeaks, shifting his weight. “Long day tomorrow. Hikes, lake front, the whole deal. You probably want to get some sleep soon,”

He was staring intensely at his hands, his jaw set so tight you could see a small muscle twitching in his cheek.

“Are you okay?” you tilt your head to catch his eye. “Is something wrong?”

“No! No I’m fine,” he clipped out, his voice a pitch higher than usual. “just you know, busy day we got,”

You furrow your brows and let your gaze drop, trying to figure out why he was sitting so rigidly, and that’s when you see it.

A lumpy, faded throw pillow hugged tightly against his lap. He was clutching it like a shield, his knuckles white as he pressed it firmly into his thighs, using it to create a very deliberate (and very suspicious) barrier between the two of you.

Your eyes widen, and a tiny, knowing ‘oh’ escapes your lips before you can stop it. You couldn't help the small, breathless huff of a laugh bubbling up in your throat.

Steve let out a pained, muffled groan, burying his face into his hands. He looked like he wanted the floorboards to open up and swallow him whole.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice vibrating against his palms as he tries to hide from you. “It's not— I didn't mean to, alright? It’s just you’re sitting right there, and we’re talking about sex so,”

You stay silent, quietly observing his now embarrassed demeanor; his eyes darting around the room but never landing on you, his fingers frantically moving the hair (that he’s now overly aware of) from his face. It was cute.

Steve lets out a jagged breath. “Okay, well I’ve obviously made a fool out of myself and you’re probably super uncomfortable so I should…..go,”

He moves to stand, but your hand finds his wrist, fingers curling around the warm skin, and you give a firm, gentle tug.

“Stay,” you say, keeping your voice low and steady, though your pulse is racing.

He hesitates for a long, agonizing second, but your grip doesn't falter. With a heavy sigh that sounds like a surrender, he slowly sinks back down onto the couch.

He doesn't let go of the pillow, though. He pulls it tighter against him, his shoulders hunched, staring at you with that guarded, vulnerable look in his eyes.

You lean in, closing the distance he’s so desperately trying to maintain. Your fingers ghosting over his knuckles as you pull the pillow away from his lap and toss it to some hidden corner.

“Take care of it,” you murmur, your voice barely a breath. “Right here, I wanna see,”

He doesn't move at first, just stares at you as if he can’t quite believe you’re being this bold. The silence in the cabin is deafening, filled only by the sound of his ragged, uneven breathing.

Steve settles back against the cushions, the denim of his jeans is pulled tight, making the evidence of how much he wants you impossible to ignore. His eyes remain wide and searching, looking for any sign that you’re joking, but you just lean back, giving him the space and the permission he clearly needs.

“You're serious?” he breathes, more of a statement than a question. You only nod.

His fingers fumbled with the button of his fly. He avoids your gaze for a second, a frenzied sort of heat blooming across his chest as he shoves his jeans down past his hips.

He kicks the heavy denim away, leaving him in just his boxers from the waist down. Even through the thin fabric, the silhouette of him is prominent and heavy, it makes your mouth water.

Steve’s hand finally makes contact, his fingers curling around himself through the cotton of his boxers. He lets out a shaky, broken exhale and tilts his head lolls forward, his eyes fluttering shut. The sight is a far cry from the confident guy who usually has a comeback for everything; he looks completely undone, his palm moving in a slow, rhythmic stroke that makes his breath hitch.

You don't take your eyes off him as you reach down, your own fingers finding the hem of your shorts. You slide them off, kicking them to the floor to join his jeans, leaving you in just your underwear. You lean back, mirroring his relaxed posture, and slowly drag your fingertips along the front of your panties.

The soft sound of fabric rustling is enough to make Steve’s eyes snap open. His hand falters for a split second as he watches your fingers trace the line of your own arousal. His pupils are so blown out they almost swallow the hazel of his eyes, and the pace of his breathing turns sharp and shallow.

You let your touch get a little heavier, watching the way his throat bobs as he swallows hard. You hold his gaze, your fingers still tracing the line of your hip, and give a slow nod.

Steve doesn't hesitate this time. His fingers hook into the elastic waistband of his boxers, hips lifting off the couch just enough to slide the fabric down, kicking them away until he’s completely bare.

When you peel your panties down your legs, and drag your fingers along your wet folds, the last bit of ‘cool counselor Steve’ completely evaporates. His head thumps back against the cushion, his mouth falling open as he takes you in

“You’re really killing me,” he rasps, his voice thick and rough.

He reaches down, his hand wrapping firmly around the length of himself. Now that there’s no fabric between his palm and his skin, his movements are more fluid, more desperate. He starts a slow, agonizingly steady glide, his thumb tracing the bulging vein that shoots up the side of his cock as he watches your fingers move between your own thighs.

Every time you find a sensitive spot and your breath hitches, his hand hitches too, his rhythm completely tethered to yours. His hips involuntary twitching upward with every stroke.

“How does it feel?” you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of his ragged breathing.

Steve lets out a sharp, choked-off groan. His chest is heaving, a fine sheen of sweat starting to glisten on his skin under the dim lamp light.

“Good, feels good,” He picks up his pace, his hand sliding with a wet, rhythmic schlick-ing sound that fills the small room.

“You know,” you murmur, watching the way his muscles tense with every stroke. “Anyone could walk in right now. One of the other counselors, or the director, they’d see everything.”

“Don’t care,” Steve whines, “Just need you,” He lets out a sharp, almost pained hiss as he glides his thumb across the slit on his tip.

“I wanna see you cum first,” he pleads, his voice cracking as he watches your fingers move against yourself.

His gaze is heavy and unwavering, acting like a tether as you increase your own pace. The pressure builds until it’s all you can feel, and as you finally hit that peak, your head falls back and a soft, broken sound escapes your lips. Steve doesn't look away for even a second; he watches every tremor, his jaw tight as he continues to stroke himself, feeding off your reaction.

As your orgasm starts to settle, you lean forward, your eyes dark and hooded. You hold your hand up, your fingers glistening and slick, and Steve’s eyes track them with a hunger that’s almost animalistic. Before he can say a word, you press your wet fingers against his lips.

He doesn't wait. He opens his mouth, taking your digits in, his tongue swirling around them as he tastes you.

You lean in, capturing his lips in a deep, bruising kiss, your tongues tangling as the sound of your shared breaths fills the cabin.

Steve loses it. With his mouth pressed against yours, he lets out a muffled, guttural groan as he cums. His body jerks, still gripping himself tight and continuing to stroke himself through the peak and long after — determined to feel everything until there’s absolutely nothing left to give.

Steve stays slumped against the couch for a moment, his chest heaving as he tries to find his breath.

You reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. “You did good,” you whisper, a small, genuine smile playing on your lips. Steve rolls his eyes even though a warm pull settles in his chest at your praise.

He helps you back into your clothes along with his own, his fingers grazing your warm skin. After a quiet moment of shared, tired smiles, he grabs a flashlight and leads you out into the cool night air.

The walk to your cabin is quiet, filled only by the crunch of leaves and the occasional brush of his hand against yours.

At the door of your cabin, Steve pulls you into the shadow of the porch, away from the faint glow of the path lights. He shifts and leans back into your space, chasing your lips before you can even move away. His kiss is softer now but no less urgent.

“See you at breakfast,” he murmurs, his voice just above a whisper. He gives you one last, lingering peck on the corner of your mouth before finally stepping back into the dark, watching until you’re safely behind the door.

As the latch clicks into place, you lean your back against the heavy wood of the door, staring into the dark room. All you can see is the ghost of Steve’s lopsided grin and the way his eyes looked in the dim light. A smile stretches across your face, making your cheeks ache.

You find yourself glancing at your watch, already doing the frantic math in your head; six hours until the wake-up bell, six and a half until the mess hall opens.

SUPPLY RUN

⋆˚࿔ after realizing you’re low on life vests, you and steve seek them out

word count: 1.6k

cw: mdni, unprotected sex, handjob, switch!steve if you squint really hard

It’s mid-afternoon, and camp already feels like it’s vibrating.

The campers are supposed to be rotating between archery and canoe basics, but half of them are arguing about whose turn it is at the archery targets. Your Cottontails are half listening to instructions and half braiding each other’s hair in the grass. The sun is high, the air thick, and everyone’s a little wound up.

You’re standing near the picnic tables with a clipboard tucked to your chest, trying to reorganize the next rotation before someone inevitably starts crying over a stolen turn.

Steve is a few feet away from you, hands on his hips, attempting to explain basic safety rules to a group of boys who truly believe they’re invincible.

“Okay, I’m saying this one more time,” he tells the boys, holding up a single finger that’s definitely threatening. “You do not pull it back unless you’re aiming at the target. Not the sky. Not your friend. The target.”

One of them grins. “What if the sky’s the target?”

Steve closes his eyes briefly. “It’s not.”

You bite back a smile and glance down at the supply sheet, more to give yourself something to focus on than anything else. And then you see it.

Of course.

Half of the life vests were still piled near the shed from yesterday an no one brought them down.

“We’re short on vests,” you say, not looking up.

Steve looks over at the sound of your voice. “What?”

“Life vests. We’re missing at least six,”

He walks over, wiping his hands on his shorts, peering at the clipboard like he understands it. “Huh, you’re right,” For a second, it’s just the two of you standing there, close enough that your shoulders almost brush.

Another Cub starts shouting about a ‘technical foul,’ whatever that means in archery.

Steve glances back at the group, then at you. “Someone’s gonna try to canoe without one, I’ll go find them,”

“You don’t know where they are.” you lift a brow.

He tilts his head and shrugs. “So come with me.”

You stand there a moment longer than necessary, thinking it over. Then you turn toward the arts & crafts table where another counselor is supervising a group making lanyards.

“Hey, Lisa?” you call. “Can you keep an eye on both cabins for a few minutes? We’re grabbing life vests from the shed.”

She waves you off easily, chewing her bubblegum lazily. “Yeah, sure.”

You set your clipboard onto the picnic table and fall into step beside Steve as you drift off the main path. The noise of camp fades with every step toward the equipment shed.

By the time you push the door open, it’s dim and quiet inside. The smell of damp rope and wood fills the air.

You head straight for the stack of orange vests hanging along the wall, reaching up to tug a few down.

You slowly glance over your shoulder and Steve’s standing by the door, one hand still resting against it like he didn’t mean to let it close all the way.

“Steve, why did you shut the door,” you ask, squinting your eyes at him.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, looking around like he’s suddenly very interested in a pile of oars. “Just…figured it’d be easier if no one wandered in.”

You sigh. “We’re here for life jackets.”

“Right. Obviously.” He takes a few casual steps closer. “That’s why I suggested it.”

“You didn’t suggest it,” you point out calmly. “You followed me.”

He mutters a small ‘yeah whatever’ before closing the distance between you, stopping just a foot away from you. “We’ve got a minute,” he says, trying for nonchalant. “Lisa’s got both groups. Nobody’s gonna notice.”

You give him a look. “Steve.”

He exhales through his nose, the faintest smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m just saying. We’re out here. Alone. For like, five minutes.”

“And?”

“Anddd,” he steps just slightly closer, voice lowering, “it’d be kind of a shame to waste that.”

His hands slide back around your waist, his fingers pressing into the small of your back as he draws you closer until there’s no space left between you. He notices the way your breath catches just barely hitches.

“See?” he murmurs, voice low and almost amused. “You’re not exactly fighting me.”

“We can’t,” you warn softly, though it lacks any real bite. His mouth brushes your jaw first. Testing. Then lower.

You tilt your head before you can stop yourself, giving him easier access, and he exhales quietly at that.

“We’ll grab the vests,” he continues, softer now, almost coaxing. “and we’ll walk back like nothing happened. Nobody’s gonna know.” His mouth drifts lower, then back up again, lingering just below your ear. His voice drops another inch.

“I just wanna feel you. Just for a minute.”

The softness in his voice does it for you. It wasn’t cocky, or teasing. Just quiet desperation.

“You’re so stupid,” before he can say anything else, you grab the front of his shirt and attach your mouth to his.

It knocks the air out of him yet his hands tighten at your waist instantly. The kiss is nothing like the careful ones from before — it’s messy, urgent, teeth knocking slightly because neither of you are thinking.

“Five minutes,” you murmur against his mouth.

“More than enough,” he breathes.

Steve backs you up in two quick steps until your hip bumps into an old, wooden supply crate lining the wall. His hands slide down and then he’s hoisting you up onto the edge, the wood creaks under the shift of weight. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist to both steady yourself and bring him closer.

His hands are everywhere now — your waist, your back, fingers curling into the denim at your hips like he’s trying to anchor himself. Yours aren’t any better, tugging at his shirt, sliding up under the hem and feeling warm skin beneath your palms.

His fingers fumble briefly at the button of your shorts before managing to undo them, movements rougher now, driven more by pure greed. He pushes the denim down your legs in one quick motion, fabric catching for a second before falling off of your ankle.

He stays pressed against you, close enough that there’s barely space to breathe, hands slipping from your hips just long enough to shove his own shorts down in one impatient motion.

He frees himself in a quick, clumsy tug, already hard, and lines himself up with you like he’s been fighting the urge all morning. He thrusts in hard and fast, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels your cunt envelop him.

“Shit,” he hisses, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he starts to create a rhythm. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat and tightness making his head spin.

Your fingers slide into the curls at the nape of his neck when his head drops to your shoulder, tugging just enough to make him breathe in sharp against your skin. He reacts immediately, letting out a quiet, strained sound pressed into your collarbone.

His forehead shifts, brushing along your jaw before he hides his face there, breath warm and uneven. “Been needing this,” he mutters into you, dragging wet kisses along your throat.

You huff out the faintest laugh, fingers still tangled in the curls at the back of his neck. “I know,” you murmur, tilting your head to give him more room. “I could tell.”

He pauses just long enough to nip lightly at your skin, hand tightening at your waist. “Shut up,”

Your breath catches, hips stuttering against his as the pressure builds tighter and tighter.

“Steve, I’m- oh, ’m close,” you start, voice thin, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes blown and unfocused. A crooked, breathless grin ghosts across his mouth. “Me too,” he admits, voice strained. “You first,” One of his hands slips between you, and his thumb finds your needy clit, circling and pressing just right.

“Come on, I got you,” he coos. Your body tightens, heat rushing through you, and you bury your face against his shoulder as you come undone, holding him there like he’s the only thing keeping you upright.

His breath goes uneven against your skin, hips faltering as he presses his forehead to yours.

“I can’t-” he exhales, almost frustrated, almost wrecked. “I can’t hold it anymore,”

He pulls out of your tired cunt, his jaw tight and chest rising fast. Your hand slips between your bodies, working his cock in quick strokes, watching the way his composure completely unravels. You can hear the little broken sounds caught and swallowed before they can fully escape.

His eyes are glossy when they lift to yours, wide and wrecked. They dip to your lips, linger there, then flick back up like he’s asking without saying it. You already know what he needs.

“You need a kiss?”

He nods once, barely controlled. “Please.”

The second you pull him in, he falls into it — mouth warm and desperate, a faint, shaky sound spilling against your lips as he finally lets go.

Eventually, you both straighten yourselves out, grabbing the stack of life vests and heading back to the dock side by side. You see that your groups are exactly where you left them — still giggling and shouting.

Steve just tosses the vests down onto the grass and claps his hands once, back in counselor mode like he was never gone at all. You give him a subtle hip bump before rounding up your bunch.

paired with campcounselor!reader

Steve Harrington did not plan on becoming a camp counselor.

In fact, just three weeks ago he had been working at Family Video, slugging through a late shift, listening to a pimply teenager explain the entire plot of Ghostbusters like Steve hadn’t already seen it twelve times. He’d been thinking about how the summer stretched ahead of him.

Then he saw the flyer.

CAMP DRIFTWOOD — COUNSELORS NEEDED. ROOM, BOARD, PAY.

He called the number before he could overthink it.

Now he’s wrangling a pack of loud, competitive twelve-year-olds dubbed The Bear Cubs who treat him like a jungle gym and a hero in equal measure (only because he can throw a football farther than the rest of the staff). He pretends he’s got everything under control.

paired with campcounselor!steve

You hadn’t planned on coming back to Hawkins for long, just enough to reset before another year of college.

Camp seemed easy enough. Fresh air, a small paycheck, a distraction.

But you definitely didn’t expect Steve Harrington of all people to be here too

You went to school with Steve, technically. Same hallways, same football games, same graduation. But you ran in different circles, and whatever you thought about him back then stayed unspoken. He was popular; you were observant. That was the extent of it.

Now you’re a counselor too, assigned to the girls’ cabin, The Cottontails. You tell yourself this is temporary. Just something to fill the summer.