Summary: You have always been determined to protect the ones you love from danger. While dealing with heartbreak, loss, and love, you refuse for your past traumas to affect you in all of this mess, especially not to interdimensional monsters.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Warnings: 18+ content, mentions of Y/N, stranger things rewrite, exes to lovers, second chance romance, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, jealousy, sexual content, strong language, violence, alcohol, drugs, abuse, nightmares, ptsd, trauma, blood, gore, death, possible inaccurate information, specific chapter warnings included within each chapter
Note: I decided to rewrite my entire Stranger Things series. It used to be an original female character (Aria Kaul) but now it is just a female reader. The only thing about this reader is that her last name will remain as Kaul because of her mother and they are both important characters in the story. Other than that, the first name is completely your choice. I have also changed many things within the story as I have come up with a lot of new ideas since finishing the series three years ago. If you have read the original Reticent, I hope you like this revised version. If this is your first time reading, I hope you enjoy it!
Summary: Court has returned to what used to be his favorite city. It's been his least favorite for over a year, but he's out to set things right.
Word Count: 2.7K
Warnings: angst, swearing, hurt/comfort, kissing in the rain?
A/N: I've been saving this one for a rainy day. Sorry, not sorry. - Birch<3
Inspo: San Francisco by Niall Horan
The sky is threatening with ragged, dark gray clouds. Loud booms of thunder fill the air, which seems to wiggle and zing with electricity sizzling in the quiet evening.
It's going to pour.
That's unusual for San Francisco. Yeah, it has its short rainy period every spring into summer, but this was a big storm. You'd shut every window in the small house, making sure your cat's patio was closed, and that the small feline was inside.
The motions of heating up leftovers for dinner, eating alone at the counter, and scrolling through your phone all slips by. It's just Sunday night. Nothing crazy going on. No friends taking you out to the bar or boyfriends trying to steal you for a night out of town.
Just as you finish your dinner, you hear it. The soft pitter-patter of rain. It starts off gently, tapping the leaves of your hanging baskets and flowers in a pleasant rhythm. But then a loud boom rings out, and the windows rattle from a strong gust of wind.
You can't help but blink at it as you settle onto your couch, flicking your TV on. It wouldn't be surprising if you lost power here in a bit. You tried to brush the thought off, and continue watching your show. But you're interrupted when there's a knock at the door.
It's one that makes the comfortable, cozy feeling you had disappear in a second flat. Your blood runs cold as ice as the patterning of the fingers rapping on your door slinks through your mind. You hate that you know the pattern. You hate the way your stomach churns at your dinner, now rolling and unsettled.
Then it comes again a few seconds later.
Three short taps in quick succession, a momentary pause, then two slower taps, and then three more taps in a swing beat. There is only one other person on the planet who knows that knocking pattern.
Court.
A lump sits heavy in the back of your throat as your heart beats faster and your breathing grows quiet and shallow. You sit up from the couch, your fingers starting to tremble as another gust of wind blows through. The house groans with effort but you pay it no attention.
You don't know why you are going to the door.
Flashes of nights crying hit the front of your mind. Tears soaking your pillowcase. Your throat raw and hoarse from sobbing. The tightness in your chest when his words replayed through your mind.
I can't do whatever this is anymore.
You were only ever a good fuck and a soft landing.
Don't you get it? I could never love you.
The harshness of them makes you pause, the angry spatter of rain on your metal roofing only growing louder. It deafens your thoughts for a moment, leaving you with the memories of heartbroken feelings.
Then you hear a muffled voice. One you haven't heard in a long time.
"Y/n, I know you're in there," the gruff male voice rings out over the sound of the rain. There's a slight pause, and then he calls out, "Your car is in the driveway."
The last of his words gets slightly drowned out by the rain, and your feet force you forward to hear more of it. Your brain is screaming to stop and run. But there's a part of you, no bigger than the pinhead of a needle, that pushes you forward. Right now, you resent that part of you.
Your steps grow wobbly as your knees both threaten to give in and lock up. You come to a halt by your front door, your hand hovering in the air over the handle. Why is he here? What does he want? Why now, after all this time?
That pinhead-sized part of you makes your fingers come to a rest on the door handle and catch on the release. You timidly pull the door open and the fresh scent of petrichor floods your nose as the raw sound of rainfall hits your ears.
You don't know where to look when the door swings open to reveal the man you hadn't seen in over a year. Your gaze settles on the tan concrete of your front porch, small puddles of water pooling on the other side of your thatched doormat.
Then you see boots. Dark brown leather shiny with water and smudged with dirt. Maybe that one line that runs a little redder than others isn't just dirt. Then as your eyes drift up, you see black tactical pants stacked neatly around sturdy calves.
Slowly, your gaze trails upwards to a set of thighs that once made your stomach flip and your body tremble. There's no telling how many times you sat on his lap, singing his name. As far as you can see, the pockets and holster attachments lining the thick muscles are empty.
The material around his hips is held up by an indistinct black belt cinched tight around his trim waist. As always. For once, there's no gun on his hip. There's not even a blade sticking out of his tactical pants that you can see. As far as you can tell, he's unarmed.
Your eyes continue upwards.
Well, maybe not completely unarmed. Court's wearing a black t-shirt, showing off his thick biceps and forearms laced with hard-earned muscle. The jagged scars and dark tattoos on his arms are familiar, and they make your throat dry up and your eyes continue on their path towards his face.
And when they eventually get there?
You swear your heart stops beating.
The whole world seems to freeze in place. Even the rain drops crashing against your roof deafen. For a moment, it's just you and it's just him and the rest of the world is on pause.
He still has that goatee you always loved. Kept clean and neat. His angled jaw is set and the muscle there flexes once. Your eyes search for bruising on his cheekbones or the telltale signs of a black eye.
There are none.
Instead, you find a stormy gaze reminiscent of the sky overheard tracking yours, damp blonde locks hanging over his forehead and plastered to his skin. It's clear now that he walked here. In the rain. To see you.
Court doesn't say anything as you regard him. He had had a plan of what to say to you. But now that he sees you in front of him? Every word in every language he knows dissipates from his mind.
You're gorgeous.
Well, he knows that. That's never been a doubt in his mind. But seeing you now? Over a year later? Simultaneously everything and nothing has changed. Your hair is a little longer than the last time he saw you, but it's still that pretty shade of (color). Your eyes still shine in that mesmerizing way that reminds him of looking at nature's beauty. You're stunning.
And yet he walked away from you then. And he has never forgiven himself since.
"What are you doing here?" you breathe out, your fingers tightening on the door handle. Your voice is not nearly as strong or sharp as you would like. But it's full of hurt. Your brows furrow and you shuffle on your feet. "Why are you here?" The sound of rain nearly drowns out your voice.
Court parts his lips and then takes a deep breath. He blows it out slowly and clenches his hands into fists at his sides. He hasn't heard your voice... in so long. He nearly forgot just how it can make him unravel and come undone. "I came here to apologize to you," he confesses quietly in the rough, rich voice you loved. Admit it, you tell yourself, Seeing him. It's not all in the past, is it?
You don't need to answer yourself. The tears that begin pricking at your eyes speak a thousand words.
"That's too little, too late," you almost hiss out as you move to close the door on him. Before you can, though, Court shoves his boot between the door and the frame. "Y/n, wait, please," he urges, his voice a little louder this time. It's easier to hear over the rain pounding against the roof of your front porch.
Fire dances in your eyes as you tug the door back open and harshly jam your finger into his chest. "Wait?" you snarl. "Did you, Court Gentry, just tell me to wait?" You step towards him and snap, "I waited for you for over a year! Remember that? How you left me, crying my eyes out because I was nothing more than a 'good fuck'?!"
You use both hands to shove Court away from your front door. He only moves a step back. You are both fully aware he let you do that. He's taken shoves worse than that and never moved an inch.
Those tears stinging at your eyes now sit on your lash line, waiting to be released. Court's face is solemn and his eyes down cast. It's the closest to remorseful you've ever seen on him.
"Do you remember?" you prompt him, your voice full of venom and hurt. He doesn't reply. "Do you remember?!" you shout this time, punching at the doorframe. Court's eyes remain down turned as he murmurs, "I do. That's why I'm here. To apologize and explain."
"You lost that right a long time ago," you chuckle humorlessly and roll your eyes. "Have a good fucking night, Court." You move to close the door again. He doesn't even try to shove his boot in it again.
But just before the door can swing shut, he rushes, "They knew about you."
You pause, despite the steam practically shooting from your ears and the tears now rolling down your cheeks. You pause. And you listen to the man who shattered your heart.
Court's eyes watch the parted door and he takes a breath and shuffles, clenching and unclenching his knuckles. Taking out high profile targets is easier than this. How he wishes he could fix this with a couple of punches and a bullet in someone's brain.
"They knew about you," he repeats, his voice softer. "Sidorenko. The guy I was taking contracts from. He learned about you through an informant."
Your stomach rolls. You very well know what Court does for work. He spared you the gory details, but you knew enough to be considered viable intel. And, you were close with the Gray Man. Neither you nor Court ever put an official label on it, but the two of you shared I love you's. That's not just a hookup. That's not just a good fuck.
You were truly, madly, and deeply in love with him.
You still are.
Court waits for you to say something. Anything. You don't. So he continues because now that he's started talking, he doesn't want to stop. He wants you to hear him out. He wants you to listen to him. He wants you to believe him. He's fully aware he doesn't deserve that. He's lucky you opened the door. And he doesn't believe in luck.
"They were planning on using you as leverage," he whispers, his voice growing thicker. It's hard to hear the words with the crash of thunder overhead. Still, you don't move from where you stand inside. Silent sobs wrack your body and you have to lift your free hand to cover your mouth to stifle the sounds.
If there's one thing Court did while the two of you were together - he kept you safe. That was his priority. Everything else was a bonus. So to hear that you would have potentially compromised him... It changes everything.
"So," he continues, stepping once closer to the door, "I did what I thought was best at the time. I pulled back. I thought leaving you here, without me would keep you safe. If they saw I wasn't with you, then they would think you didn't mean anything to me."
Court pauses and flattens his hand against the door. "When you really have meant everything."
Silence laced with raindrops rings out. It's loud. Thick. Uncomfortable. Court holds his breath, waiting for you to say something. Anything.
You do not reply.
Court swallows hard and his eyes snap closed in frustration with himself. He knew it was a long shot. But he's normally pretty capable of those. This one, however. He's not sure he ever really stood a chance.
Wordlessly, he draws back from the door and his hand swings down to his side, clenching into a fist. Then, he steps away from the door and turns on his heel. You can hear the sound of his boots dejectedly padding down your front porch before the footsteps are washed away.
You could not reply to Court. Not when you were choking back sobs with tears flowing like a river down your cheeks and dripping onto the floor. Only when he's gone and you know it do you do something.
You rip the door open.
A quick glance around the front porch through blurry vision tells you he didn't bother sticking around. Further down the winding lane to your driveway and making his way towards the main road, you spot his figure. A dark dot in the midst of the thunderstorm.
You step out onto your porch in just your bare feet and shut the door behind you. Then, with your arms wrapped around your body, you duck your head, and you run.
Your legs carry you as fast at they cane, slapping down against the wet pavement. Raindrops catch on your hair and sweater immediately, dampening your frame in a few measly seconds. You can't find your voice to call for him. To shout. To make him turn around and keep talking.
Instead, you chase after Court's retreating figure. But you gain on him. He's walking pretty briskly - which you can't blame him for - but he's not running. That would be hard to keep up with.
At first, Court thinks it's just the raining growing harder. He's been lost in his head for the few moments it's been walking away from your house. He's not operational, but maybe he should be acting like it. Someone could be tracking his ass right now and he wouldn't know any better.
He allows himself this moment to grieve, though. He had hope. It was small and fleeting, but its presence was there. The best thing he can do is acknowledge it, give it the sliver of time it deserves, and then get his ass back in gear.
That's why he thinks it's just the storm brewing and thunder rolling more prominently. But then his mind locks onto the rhythm of it and realizes it's not even. And for whatever reason, he looks over his shoulder, blinking through the pouring rain.
You unwrap your arms from around yourself and crash into his chest at full force. He doesn't stumble this time. Your hands, trembling and cold, find Court's face to cradle as you reach up onto your toes. Without giving him a chance, you pull his head down to yours until your mouth crashes against his.
It all happens so fast, but Court's used to conditions like this.
His arms slither around your waist in a second. One around the base of your spine to hold you flush against him, the other finding the back of your head to slide his fingers through the damp locks. His fingers tighten and he uses his grip on your to tilt your head as he kisses you back with everything he's got.
Court's beard tickles your face as your lips slot passionately against his. This kiss is messy. Sloppy. Unpracticed. At the same time, it's warm. It's rich. It's everything you've missed about him. If you try hard enough, you can taste remnants of that Watermelon Wave gum he loves so much, combined with the sweetness that is Court.
The rain pours down on the two of you without relenting. It's close, biting at your skin, sliding down your face. Yet Court is warm and solid underneath your touch, anchoring you here in the moment with him. He tils his head to deepen the kiss, and it draws one of his favorite noises from you - a soft moan that says more than words.
summary: The five times Ryland wants to kiss you but doesn't, and the one time he finally does.
word count: 3.6k
champagne supernova masterlist
1: The Library
The first time Ryland wants to kiss you is when he barely knows you. You're a friend of a friend, some barely tangible connection that's nothing in the grand scheme of a person's life, and he thinks he has one or two classes with you but he barely even knows your name. You study geology, he knows that much. You always wear a pendant with some kind of gemstone on it, he's not sure of the significance of it or what it actually is. You seem nice enough from your limited interactions. Now you're all in grad school, things are starting to get serious for you academically and there's a plethora of study groups for this class or that subject that the professors all encourage them to join.
He joins quite a few of them. It might be more to stop him getting lonely than needing to bounce ideas off people. He doesn't tell people that.
His calculus study group always meets in the main library, claiming one of the big tables so everyone has room to spread out. They meet that frequently that everyone now has unofficial seats. Or they usually do. He gets there a little bit later than usual one day only to find out his usual seat, the one right at the end of the table where he can mainly just observe, has been taken by a newcomer. Someone shouts his name, gesturing to a seat closer to the middle of the table. You're sat across from it. He almost leaves right then and there.
He doesn't. He sits down, praying he won't make a fool of himself.
God has never answered his prayers before but he figures it's worth a shot.
He tries his best not to stare at you. It's easy enough when there's a hush in the group, everyone caught up in their own work. It's harder when people are trying to pull him into debates. He's listening to someone's very passionate argument about grass not qualifying as a being a plant (what does that have to do with calculus?) when you catch his eye.
The way the light hits you from the window takes his breath away. You're not even doing anything special, just making notes about whatever scientific journal you have splayed open in front of you but you just look so incredible he's glad he's already sitting down. He's never been particularly forthcoming about dating so the sudden knowledge that he wants to kiss you almost floors him. He hasn't had a crush on someone in years, he'd almost forgotten what it's like.
Someone further down the table asks if he's okay because he's suddenly gone very red. You look up then, catching his eye with a concerned expression. He almost chokes on the sip of water he'd just taken and that gets him even more attention.
He tells them he accidentally swallowed his chewing gum.
No one presses him any further but he catches the small smile on your face as you go back to whatever you were working on.
Oh no.
He's screwed.
He can't even look in your direction for the rest of the hour. When people give their first signs of needing to leave, his bag is already packed and he's out the door without a word to any of you. He can't avoid you forever, he doesn't want to; he just needs to get somewhere where his heart rate can finally start to slow down.
2: The House Party
The second time he wants to kiss you feels like something straight from a movie. People keep insisting to him that the social side of college is just as important as the academic side but Ryland isn't convinced. He was roped into going to a frat party by his freshman roommate and he's still called 'Vominator' in some of the social circles he frequents.
He almost says no to the house party on the spot on reflex. It's another study group, this time in a coffee shop on campus when someone mentions a friend of a friend is hosting a house party and everyone is invited. They go through the group and he's barely paying attention to anyone's answers until it's your turn.
"Sounds fun." Your smile is soft but genuine and your friends all echo similar sentiments. Then all the attention falls on him.
"What about you Ryland?" Rejection is on the tip of his tongue when he makes the mistake of looking in your direction. He dares to think the expression on your face is one of hope.
"Sure, why not."
So now he's stood in a stranger's kitchen with a red solo cup filled with…something alcoholic. He's not sure what's actually in it and he doesn't think anyone else does but no one seems to care much. People certainly keep returning back to the kitchen for more of it. He spotted you early into the night, surrounded by friends and dancing to the beat like it's second nature.
He's toying with the idea of sneaking out and climbing over the back fence when he realises he hasn't seen you for a while. He stretches to try and spot you then drops back down when he realises you're walking straight towards him. You give a little wave, settling near him.
"Hey Ryland."
"Hey." He leans back trying to look casual but then grimaces when his back makes contact with a cup of mystery punch and knocks it over. He bolts up with a yelp.
He hopes you can't see him blushing because of how dim it is.
"Are you having a good time?" He shrugs then realises that's rude. You came over to talk to him, he should at least try and make conversation.
"This isn't really my scene." You nod.
"Me neither."
"Really?" He wants to believe you but doesn't. You looked totally at ease in the centre of the room dancing with friends and strangers alike. He wishes you would dance with him.
"With the right people it's okay. The punch certainly helps." He takes a sip of his cup then winces as the burn hits his throat. You laugh at him, more teasing than malicious, then lean closer to him. "Do you want to dance?"
He can't dance.
"Sure." You take him by the hand, drinks forgotten on the counter top, and weave through the thrum of people until you're almost in the centre of the room. As if sensing his apprehension, you take it slow; keeping your hands entwined as you encourage him into a series of easy moves.
It bugs him that he starts having fun.
When the music changes to something softer his heart stops. You don't let go of his hand, moving closer to him as you lead him into swaying gently to the music. The way his heart is hammering in his chest he's surprised you can't hear it.
He could just lean forward and kiss you. It would be so easy. Just like in the movies.
He doesn't.
The moment is broken by a cacophony of people shouting your name. One of your friends pulls you away and you throw him an apology he can barely hear as the music changes to something much louder and you're pulled away from him.
He leaves not long after.
Coward.
3: His Apartment
The third time he wants to kiss you in when he knows he's in too deep. Study sessions at the flat become a semi-frequent diary filler for the two of you after the house party. You're now friends rather than just acquaintances and small talk turns into something more. The two of you are on similar wavelengths most of the time, conversation flows easier with every extra minute you spend together.
You'd come over under the guise of needing help with your earth systems paper but when you'd arrived you'd pulled a Star Wars box set out from behind your back, insisting the two of you had been working so hard lately you deserved a night off. That's how you end up on the couch, movie paused in the background as you discuss the skewed politics of the Republic. You go silent for a few moments.
"It's late, I should get going." You shift slightly, joints popping quietly from the movement. A glance at his watch shows that it's nearly 1am. When did it get so late?
"You can stay, if you want. Like you said it's late, I'd feel bad making you go home alone at this time." The words slip out before he even thinks about it. His mind fills instantly with domestic thoughts of you in his apartment and he knows they'll never leave his head again. You mull it over for a few moments.
"I don't know."
"No pressure! Just that you're already here." He wants to dig himself a hole in the ground and have someone bury him. He's coming on too strong.
"If it's not too much trouble." Or maybe he's not.
"You know it's not." You blink slowly at him, a sleepy smile blossoming on your face as you stretch your arms.
"Can I borrow some clothes?" His brain short circuits.
"Sure." He jumps up before he can think about it too much, dashing into his room and grabbing an assortment of clothes so you have a few options. He hands them over to you with a soft smile which you reciprocate as you get up to get changed.
You come out of the bathroom wearing one of his science pun shirts and he thinks he's going to die on the spot.
He insists you take his bed, he'd feel terrible having a guest sleep on his lumpy sofa whilst he got to enjoy sleeping on a real bed. You try to protest but you're clearly tired and you give in after a few more pushes, throwing another thank you and a good night over your shoulder before closing the door behind you.
He lies on the couch and tries to sleep. His brain doesn't go quiet until nearly 5am.
You emerge from his room in the morning, rubbing sleep out of your eyes, muttering a sleepy good morning in his direction. He says it back, stretching the sleep out of his muscles and shifting so there's room for you on the couch.
"Coffee?"
"I can make it." He's halfway up when you shake your head at him.
"Ryland, you already let me stay over, please let me make you a coffee." So he does. You know just how he likes it without even asking. It's a small thing but it matters.
You sit down next to him, coffees in hand, and it hits him all at once that this could be his life. He could just lean over, kiss you, and maybe you'd stay forever. He'd wake up to you like this every day for the rest of his life if he could.
He doesn't move. Just watches you as you take the first sips of your coffee.
4: The Cinema
The fourth time he wants to kiss you is when it starts to get annoying. He's such a coward, he could just lean over and do it. It almost feels like it would be easier to do it here, under the cover of darkness where it's basically impossible to have a conversation about it because people would complain that you're ruining the movie.
You bought him tickets to watch Star Trek (the original one!) at the local independent cinema as a surprise. He's a little bit ashamed to say that he cried. It's a film that means a lot to him. He mentioned it to you once right at the beginning of your friendship and it means so much that you remembered such a tiny detail. There isn't even an occasion, you just saw it was on and arranged it.
The theatre is full of fellow nerds, some are even dressed in costume, and the energy in the room is electric. It's inspiring seeing so many couples milling around as well. That could be you and him some day!
You picked good seats, right in the centre of the room, so he has a perfect view of the screen. It's too bad that he's spent an embarrassing percentage of the film watching you out of the corner of his eye instead.
Your hand is resting on the arm chair, occasionally dipping into the box of popcorn the two of you are sharing. Occasionally your elbow brushes against his and it hits him all at once how close the two of you are. There's so many opportunities for him to make a move, any move, that the situation allows for. He could leave his hand in the popcorn a little bit too long in the hopes that he can entwine it with yours, he could rest his arm next to yours in the hopes you'll shift against him, he could lean his head towards you to rest it closer to your headrest. Endless possibilities and he's not indulging any of them.
You lean over to him, waiting for him to turn and face you, then make a funny comment. He snorts with laughter, leaning back against his headrest a little bit too quickly. His glasses catch on one side of his head and the force knocks them forward slightly, leaving them askew on his face. You're both laughing quietly now, even if Ryland's is more embarrassed than anything. He moves to shift them back to their proper place but you beat him to it.
"Let me." You catch his hand with yours, waiting for him to return it to his lap.
You adjust his glasses, smiling as he scrunches his face to make sure they're sitting at the right point on his nose. You're so close to his face that he can hear you breathing. That makes him sound like a creep. You breath nicely.
That's probably an even creepier thought. He casts it aside.
"Excuse me, sorry!" A voice from over his shoulder pulls him away from you. It's just someone wanting to squeeze past to go to the bathroom but it unsettles him as he leans away from you, adjusting so the person can get past without accidentally kicking one of you. When he finally dares to look back at you, your attention is back on the movie. Even when the person comes back, Ryland can't settle. The moment doesn't feel right anymore.
He'll just have to keep waiting.
5: The Restaurant
The fifth time he wants to kiss you feels slightly less pathetic since it happens when he's on a date with you. It definitely feels like this is a socially acceptable situation to want to kiss you.
It at least means that maybe you want to kiss him back.
Hopefully.
It'd be pretty bad going on a date with someone you don't want to kiss. You're not like that.
Dinner is going well. It doesn't feel weird which he worried it would (because of him, not because of you) and it's been fun. You'd picked a nice, mid-range restaurant so neither of you have to pretend to be something that you're not or spend too much money on it. You share a starter, get an alcoholic drink, and talk.
It feels like it could be the beginning of everything.
He hasn't felt this way about anyone for a long time, and he was so much younger the first time that it doesn't feel right to compare. He thinks about you all the time; wondering what you're doing, who you're with, if you're ever thinking about him.
It's already gotten to the point that he's been writing love letters. That's how the two of you ended up here in the first place. It felt safer to word vomit all over some paper rather than to your face then he went and left them somewhere you could see them. A good thing came of it but next time he's definitely going to burn the pages once he's done with them.
Hypothesis: his brain stops functioning rationally (or maybe at all) when you're involved.
It's a theory he thinks is worth rigorous testing, no matter how mortifying it gets.
There's a gentle lull somewhere after your mains but before you've ordered your desserts. The drinks have warmed up both up and Ryland really wants to kiss you. Again. It feels like the whole night has been building up to it and he's ready. More than ready. He's wanted this for weeks, months at this point. He can't go more than three sentences without looking at your lips, it would be so easy to just lean forward and kiss you. There's no way you haven't noticed, he's never been very good at being subtle with regards to anything.
You place your hand down on the table and he dares himself to be brave for once as he reaches over to place his on top of yours. When you touch it's like electricity runs through him as all his nerve ending are alight.
This is it, this is the moment when you become more then friends.
Then, then, the waiter comes over, asking if you want another refill of your drinks or a dessert or something, Ryland can't even say what the poor man is there for. The moment is broken and the haze settling between you dissipates. He pulls his hand away and you retract yours slowly, take another sip of your drink. You finish up dinner and, whilst nothing has changed, the tension between the two of you has gone. The drive back to his apartment isn't tense, but there's no spark in the air like there was in the taxi on the way there. It's yet another opportunity that he's let pass him by.
Damn it.
+1: The Club
Ryland doesn't get jealous. He doesn't. If it looks like he does, it's just because a trick of the light, or maybe he's having a bad day. Of course, it's never a bad day before someone interacts with you in a way that sets his teeth on edge because he's been with you. It's always completely unrelated even it never happens when he's with other people.
So no, he doesn't get jealous.
You're still in the 'will they, won't they' phase much to his chagrin and he's once again forced against his will to partake in the social interaction college is supposedly all about. The house party was one thing. A club is a huge step up from that, in the worst way possible. He's pretty sure the music they're playing doesn't contain a single lyric, it's just a sequence of heavy bass and noises that make his head feel weird.
You can tell he's not comfortable and keep saying it's okay if he wants to leave but he wants to do this, wants to be here, for you. He can almost convincingly grin and bear it. It's something of a mercy when you both finish your drinks and he has an excuse to get off the dance floor. Your friends are all around you so he's sure you'll be fine for the five minutes he's gone to fetch another round.
The bar is impossibly busy, and he tries his best to keep an eye on where you are whilst he's waiting to be served. Everything seems like it's going fine until someone he doesn't recognise approaches you.
He can barely make out the stranger's face but he can make out yours. Your expression starts off polite but it falls away pretty quickly.
He's walking back over to you before he's even ordered the drinks.
Screw it.
You spot him walking towards you and smile at him but it doesn't slow his pace. He moves through the people like a man on a mission and doesn't even hesitate to capture your lips in a kiss as soon as he's close enough to you. To your credit, you don't even seem surprised; tangling your fingers in the hem of his t-shirt and pulling him closer. The stranger makes a comment, something neither of you hear clearly, before he skulks away, disappearing into the crowd.
Now that he's actually kissing you, Ryland doesn't want to stop. If he didn't need oxygen to survive he wouldn't stop. But he does, and so do you, so it comes to an end. You rest your forehead against him. He's quite proud of the fact you seem out of breath.
"Sorry." You pull back as you process his word. Confusion and hurt flash through your eyes. Your chest fills with panic.
"Why're you sorry?"
"Cause now I've messed things up between us."
"Ry, how have you messed things up?" You take his hand in yours, squeezing tightly to ground him.
"Cause I acted all impulsively and I had no right to do that and I didn't even ask you!" He's panicking and the word vomit is happening without him being able to stop it. He might actually vomit soon as well. He really doesn’t need to remind people of his nickname.
"Ry, you don't have to ask me if you want to kiss me."
"You're okay with it?!" You laugh in his face but your face is too full of joy for him to think you're mocking him.
"Ry, I've wanted you to do that for weeks. I thought I was misreading some signals after you didn't at the restaurant."
"Oh thank god." He pulls your close, laughter bubbling in his chest. “Can I do it again?”
“Ry, you can do it whenever you want to.” So he does.
summary: coworker!clark kent getting jealous of the new photographer flirting with you
warning: 18+ needy and jealous clark, three some, gender neutral reader
note: enjoy!
The heat of Clark’s gaze could burn you in an instant. Despite being in a team debrief with Perry in the middle of the office, Clark had his eyes glued to you and your photojournalist, Peter Parker. He was fidgeting with a pencil that eventually broke in half after Peter whispered something to your ear.
Eyes on the board, you texted Clark. Instead he kept his dark blue eyes at you, eyebrows scrunched.
“Is he always like that?” Peter whispered, toying with his lanyard. Clark looked at him with disgust. He hated his perfectly wavy hair, his way of dressing that looked like it came out of an early 2000’s magazine, and the way he made you laugh—like a lot.
“He has moments,” You said, rolling your eyes. “Ignore him.”
“Sure, boss,” Peter joked. It has been a month since Peter was assigned to you, a photographer from New York. Perry employed him after his famous pictures of Spider-man. For the past two months, Spider-man has been seen in Metropolis fighting bad guys faster than Superman ever did.
“How about Spider-man V. Superman: A Heated Rivalry,” Jimmy said to the team, spreading his hands wide to emphasize the title Peter choked on his coffee, while an audible scoff came out of Clark.
“You think you could get an interview with them?” Perry asked you. You never said no to any stories Perry wanted to tell, but this one? You were unsure.
“This is much worse than hashtag supershit,” Clark said, arms crossed so tightly his shirt could’ve ripped. He sighed, “but sure why not, I’ll hit up Superman and send him your way.
“Really, you’d do that?” you said in disbelief. It has been a while since you’ve talked sincerely with Clark, it’s usually arguments and bantering these days about work. Plus, it was even more unbelievable because he has been vocal about not liking Spider-man. Silly man in a red and blue suit he’s obviously a Superman rip-off! He’d say.
“You think you could get Spider-man’s contact info, Parker?” an eyebrow raised. “You seem to know him very well.”
“I’m pretty sure he’d be down here faster than Superman,” Peter said, smirking.
“I doubt that,” Clark said, walking out to the coffee counter.
Perry eventually ended the meeting. Everyone was back to working on their own desks. Clark stayed at the counter looking like he was making coffee for everyone. You walked to the coffee counter to help him out.
“Is it still two sugars?” Clark said, facing away from you.
“Erm, yeah,” you said, smoothing your palms on your shirt. “Thanks for the save by the way.”
“Anytime,” he said. “Do you know how Peter likes his coffee?”
“Black,” you said. Clark quickly looked at you with his brows even more furrowed. You wanted to laugh at how silly he looked. “What? We spend a lot of time together, of course I’ll know.”
“D’you spend time at his place? House tours on his new flat I suppose,” Clark said, putting more than a spoonful of sugar on Peter’s cup. You stopped his hand, an obvious size difference between you two.
“Oh my god, Clark,” If your eyes could roll much farther back you would. “Are you seriously jealous of him? After not talking to me for weeks? You are so unbelievable!”
“I was keeping my distance, you knew why that had to happen,” he said. He was facing you know, his broad frame eclipsing the light over you.
“I actually don't know Clark, you were pretty vague about it,” you looked up at him, his black curls over his face, his glass falling nearer to the tip of his nose. There was always a surge of blood through you when you argue with him.
“I wanted you to be happy,” he uttered in a low but serious tone.
“You broke up with me! Right when I needed you the most, how was that making me happy?” You said, looking around to see if anyone heard you, tears slowly creeping.
“You absolutely know why,” he was clearly hinting at his secret rendezvous. “It was never safe for us to be together.”
“Then why are you so pressed about me and Peter?” Clark didn't know what to say. You’re right, he shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t be jealous at all.
Clark’s response was never spoken. He stood there in shame, gazing away from you.
“Right,” you said, leaving the counter.
Later that day, on top of the Daily’s building sat Superman. His body ached from being thrown around buildings. Despite everyone in the crowd cheering for him, TV reporters wanting to interview him, he escaped all of them to sit and ponder. All he wanted to do right now was talk to you and apologize.
If there is one thing he hated the most, it was seeing you cry.
“Nice save out there,” Spider-man said. Leaning on the Daily Planet sign.
“Don’t make the same mistakes I did, Peter,” he said. Spider-man was taken aback. Clark stared at the skyline, the direction of your apartment.
“You’re mentioned a lot when we’re together,” Peter said. “There’s still a lot of love shared between you two.”
“Maybe before,” Clark said. Peter took off his mask and sat next to him.
“Only one way of finding out,” Peter said, tapping Clark’s shoulder before taking a thwip at a nearby building.
Your nightly routine was perfect, shower, then skincare, maybe a few minutes reading a book then off to sleep. After closing the cap of your moisturizer, you heard a knock on your window. It was Peter, unmasked.
“Are you hurt?” you said, letting him in. Behind him was Superman, his head down like he was hiding his face from you. “Clark?”
“What is he doing here?” you continued. The two men sat on your sofa. Peter unzipped the top half of the suit in such a way it hung on his hips, a worn out graphic tee underneath. They both drank the water you offered them.
“Well you wanted that interview right?” Peter said. “Here it is.”
The silence was thick in the air, weighing down on you and Clark. He finished his water but his lips stayed pressed on the glass, cold and uncomfortable.
“Oh, come on you two, the tension is making me feel faint,” Peter said, pressing the iced glass on his forehead.
“It was rude of me to come at you like that, I’m sorry,” Clark said, slowly lifting his head to match your gaze.
“Asshole move by the way,” you took their glasses and put them in the sink. When you came back the two boys were following your every move. “You know it was never about being a hero, I just… wished you could've been more honest with me. I would understand.”
“I’m sure Peter treats you better,” Clark said, even though he didn’t mean it like that it did come off a little condescending.
“Peter and I are just friends,” you said. “We’ve known each other since college. When I found out he wanted to move I asked him to move here and work with me.”
“So…not dating then,” Clark said. “Cool…cool…”
“Well not yet,” Peter said.
“Not helping!” you interjected. “I like you two but you guys are making it harder for me.”
“You like…us?” The two men said in unison.
You shut your eyes and shook your head, surprised with what you said. “That’s not–”
It was Clark who stood first, Peter followed.
“Let me explain,” You said, putting your hands in front of you as if pushing them away. “You’re both great, okay. Clark’s kind of an asshole sometimes but you’re the sweetest man I’ve ever known. And Peter, you’re the most patient and understanding person ever. And I’ve really been confused with what I feel lately because I don’t want to have to choose–”
“You don’t have to,” Peter said. He came closer and held your hand. “I’m sure there’s space for both of us.” He looked at Clark, who nodded and went next to you.
“If you’d let us.” Clark held your other hand, rubbing his thumb on your skin.
The three of you sat at the edge of your bed in nothing but underwear. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you said, smoothing your palms on your thighs.
“If you want out you could just sit there and watch us,” Peter jokingly said.
“That’s an option?” you said, smiling. Clark looked like a deer in headlights.
You held his face and kissed his lips, warm and soft like how you remembered it. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you in, another hand holding your cheek. You pulled back, much to Clark’s dismay. Peter’s kiss was slow and definite. Like a spider, his hands crept all over your body. Your back, your waist, your chest.
Clark felt your hand on his wrist, pulling him in. With that, the three of you joined in a kiss. Tongues going back and forth through wet lips, the heat of your breaths echoes with moans and grunts. Peter dragged his kisses to your jaw, down to your neck. Clark kissed the back of your ear, his hand steady on the curve of your back.
The two men moved around you like they knew each other’s thoughts. Clark shifted so that you sat between his thick thighs, your back against the hard muscles of his chest. Peter, on the other hand, was on his knees, kissing the skin of your thighs. Clark continued kissing your nape, his hands teasing your nipples.
You could feel Clark’s hard cock twitch at each whimper. Peter’s lips made their way to the skin above your sex, slowly pulling the last piece of clothing from your body. His mouth teased the perimeter, the heat in between your legs growing more and more. Clark’s hips would move ever so slightly, the tip of his cock rubbing against his boxers.
“Gosh, you sound so beautiful,” Clark said, kissing and nipping at your neck.
Peter chuckled. Clark was right, he was leaking in his boxers just from the sound of your moans. He placed his mouth on your sex, licking and sucking on the sensitive gland. Your hands smoothed through his hair before pulling them in, his tongue adding more pressure to your center.
“Fuck–I don’t want to come yet,” you cried out. Peter halted, letting a string of saliva drag out from your sex. “I need to see you both first.”
They both stood in front of you with cocks pointing north. This time you finally had the opportunity to look at them next to each other. Clark was obviously bigger, in every sense of the word. Shoulders wide, muscular arms, thighs bigger than your head. Peter was equally handsome though, he had wide shoulders, but his body leaner and more fit for agile strides in the sky.
They both undressed. Your thoughts felt like mush, it was as if you were drunk from their presence.
“Did you just gulp?” Peter said, scratching the back of his head.
“Did I?” your eyes were transfixed on their erections. You took Peter’s cock first, it was the smaller of the two–still a good seven inches though and mostly because you were scared Clark’s cock would bruise your throat. You licked a strip from underneath up to the leaking tip. Peter’s eyes rolled back from the wetness of your tongue.
“Damn,” Peter yelped when you took the last inch, sucking as you pulled back. “That mouth feels so good.”
You didn’t want to leave Clark hanging. He felt your warm hand on his cock, slowly stroking. For a man dubbed by many to be made of steel he wanted to bend and break like a sand castle in front of you. You let go of Peter’s cock with a loud pop, still stroking it with your spit as lube.
Being a bit scared proved to be right, your jaw hurt a little from sucking Clark’s cock. It was definitely thicker, but it felt so good to just suck on it, earning deep guttural moans from him. “You’re so good at that sweetie, missed that mouth so much.”
“I missed doing things with it.”
“Other than arguing?” Clark snickered. He picked you up so he could kiss you again this time more desperate than the last. “Bend over for me and Peter, yeah?”
You do as you’re told. Clark positioned himself at your back, rubbing his cock on your ass. Peter sat in front of you, leg spread on the bed. He kissed you again and again until you were breathless. “Knew you had it in you,” he said, just in time for the two of them to fuck you together.
You’ve never felt this full before, your nails dug into your sheets for control. Clark gently stroked inside you, slick from your spit and arousal. You gasped when he was fully in, sucking in Peter’s cock deeper in the process. You pleasured them both from each end, using the same rhythm through each stroke. “Needy for Clark’s cock?” Peter said, patting your head.
You nodded, cheeks flushed and damp with tears. Clark’s grip on your waist was tight and strong, he fucked his fill into you that your hips were sure to get sore. He places his hand on your sex and uses the wetness to pleasure you. Your body felt tingly from all the touching and fucking that the arousal dripped down your thighs and into the bed.
“You should see this face, Clark, teary eyed from taking two dicks,” Peter cooed. “You’ve been wanting this haven’t you?”
“Yes–” you gasped for air. “He’s stretching me out.”
Clark got harder after you said that, he wanted to finish inside you, show you how much he missed you. “I’m close—haven’t come since our last time,” Clark was on top of you, his body weight pressing on you slightly. His thrust became faster, each stroke a hard assault on your sensitive spot.
“Go for it, come inside me.”
“Oh, you sweet thing,” Clark melted in response, shooting his come inside your warmth filling you to the brim. Clark laid down on his side while trying to catch his breath. Peter flipped you over so he could take his turn while you faced him.
“Think you can take on more?” Peter said, kissing you again.
“I told you…there’s space for both of you,” the two of you shared one more kiss while Peter entered. He dug his face to the corner of your neck, lifting your legs so he could feel the warmth. He could still feel Clark’s come inside, making things slicker, his cock going in and out easier.
Clark cuddled you in, using his bicep as a pillow. You two watched Peter’s cock go in and out of you, Clark’s joined a hand to pleasure your sex. Your body tensed, a knot forming tighter and tighter.
“I’m so close too,” Peter said, his face was pink, his lips reddened and needing one more kiss.
You reached to stroke Clark’s cock again, he was already moaning and panting through your kiss. “Kiss me again,” you said to both of them. They both joined into a kiss, stroking their hips. Clark’s hand on your sex helped bring you closer. “I’m coming,” you moaned.
The air in the room drowned in the sounds of your climax, panting and grunting as Peter emptied himself in you. The three of you cuddled until the next hour, sharing kisses here and there before Peter had the great idea of doing it all over again in the shower.
Perry woke up with an e-mail from you. Can’t come to work, interview with Spider-man. And another e-mail from Clark. The Superman story right now, might be late.
The interview would last a day…or two.
like/reblog/comment if you liked! send a request or join the taglist for more!!
someone motivate me to write for reticent. my mind has been revolving around ryan gosling lately and i can’t seem to find my inspiration for joe keery/steve harrington anymore 🫠 it’s lowkey been like this ever since stranger things ended and idk why honestly. even my obsession with aaron hotchner came back but i can’t seem to go back to steve 😬
i love ryan gosling. he looked so good in project hail mary! i watched the fall guy when it came out two years ago and was so sad to see that it flopped even though it was such an incredible movie. so glad project hail mary is getting more recognition! this is ryan’s year fs!!
can’t wait for more reticent!! especially if star n jonathans kiss will be brought up 🤭🤭
i’m stoked for you all to read the rest of reticent! i’m still writing chapter three unfortunately because i’ve just been super busy with my classes and haven’t had the time or motivation to continue writing. perhaps you all would like a sneak peek of chapter three in the meantime?? 🤷♀️😁
Gambit
noun. an act or remark that is calculated to gain an advantage, especially at the outset of a situation.
Summary: Ten years after you first met Aaron Hotchner, you're placed on his team at the BAU. Ten years apart isn't nearly long enough to cool the hatred that began when you first met. In fact, it seems to have only gotten worse -- and the feeling is mutual.
General themes/warnings: enemies to lovers (these two HATE each other y'all), typical level of violence and cases for the show, depictions of panic attacks, eventual smut, chapter specific warnings will be given as well of course!
i finally finished reading this and this was one of the best fics i’ve ever read! i was completely hooked from the start! you are an incredible writer and i loved every second of this.
love love love this story so much and reader and aaron are just the most cutest couple ever, i love them!!!! i fear i will never get over them, and that’s okay because i don’t want to 🩷🩷🩷🩷
also SPOILERS if anyone wants to read this!!
i will say, i had a feeling robinson had something to do with this as soon as i read the line “you weren’t going to waste your time talking to a random police officer” and i was right!! but to know it was much DEEPER than that shocked me to my core! you’re such an incredible writer!
I've recently been obsessing over so many steve fics that I thought, why not put them in one place for everyone else to enjoy! I'll try and update this as much as I can but for now, if you're on this list, just know I have been stalking your account ;) show these the love they deserve!
list updated: March 5th 2026
SERIES RECS
"OSWDLS" Oh, so we DO love Steve...
written by @sheisjoeschateau | ongoing
This fic has quite literally changed my life. If you're looking for a long-standing fic with impeccable writing that just so happens to have an apocalypse!au then this is the possibly the greatest one ever written. In fact, check out everything Misha has written, you won't be disappointed.
RETICENT
written by @dayasfilms | ongoing
A reader insert fic that covers every ST season. Reader is an absolute badass that you're sure to fall in love with. I was shocked to discover this fic so late, it's my new obsession.
because of you
written by @crappymixtape | complete
Every single fic on this blog is sublime, but I had to pick one and this was my introduction. Enemies to lovers done right!!! Set in ST4, forced interactions that lead to requited feelings. Do I even need to say more?
Adventures in Babysitting
written by @worth-the-chaos | ongoing
Reader insert that will instantly have you hooked! Acquaintances to lovers, a dash of slow-burn, and the perfect pace <3
The Roommate Agreement
written by @friendlyneighborhoodslut | unknown, last update Jul 20 2025
Modern!au where Reader moves in with her brother, Eddie, and Steve. Each chapter felt like an episode of my favourite show, highly recommended!!
Sweet Child of Mine
written by @smokefurball | ongoing
A new tale that explores Terry Ives awakening amidst the setting of ST5. This fic is already occupying space in my mind, as I'm sure it will for you. It also provides a beautiful insight into El/Jane's mind that we didn't get to see in ST5.
I'll Be There For You
written by @supernovafics | ongoing
Based on the tv show 'Friends', this roomate!au features a friends to lovers arc that will have you feeling giddy in the best way!
Like It's Love?
written by @upsidedownwithemmy | unknown, last update Jun 5 2025
Soulmate!au where Steve and Reader find eachother in every life - this series is already heartbreaking but written so beautifully!
ONE SHOT RECS
orange juice
written by @sattlersquarry | 8k words
Set post ST4, Steve is grieving over Reader but soon discovers he doesn’t have to move on. I was so utterly captivated by this fic it felt like I was transported into another realm.
you and i (back at it again)
written by @lighteyed | 2.2k words
Set immediately after the Battle of Starcourt, Reader shows up for Steve when he has no one else - I genuinely bawled my eyes out.
I will be back to update more! As for now, I hope you enjoy reading!
i cant stop thinking about your writings. they’re addictive!! sickening! (in the best way possible ofc).
can i get a boyfriend Steve x Reader x Jancy and they do a date night together? i am thinking a movie where they don’t really pay attention to the it 🙃 maybe extra possessive Steve this time who gets jealous!! xx
FRIDAY NIGHTS
Part II here.
STEVE HARRINGTON x READER & NANCY WHEELER x JONATHAN BYERS (18+)
“I promise we will be quick; just one movie at my place. We haven’t had a double date in weeks! You can wear your new lingerie over here, then devour Steve the moment credits roll. C’mon, it’ll be fun!”
Nancy had begged you, seemingly desperate to not be left alone for another one of Jonathan’s infamous film discussions he held every Friday. Who were you to turn down your best friend’s insistent request?
| ~10k wc. No use of Y/N. Plot + smut!
MDNI! SEXUALLY EXPLICIT! ALL ADULT CHARACTERS! (AFAB reader she/her), (Dom Boyfriend!Steve), (Dom!Nancy), (Sub!Reader), (Sub!Jonathan), (unprotected PIV), (oral), (faceriding/69), (Steve tries to share), (Nancy wants to ruin your friendship/be lovers instead), (spit), (breeding mention), (pet names), (mild perversion?), (possessiveness), (Steve calls himself ‘Daddy’), (lingerie), (degradation), (almost getting caught by Mike), (little aftercare), (untagged general filth), (No chapters/entire work), (Not beta read, we die like Eddie)
AN - I just want everyone to know I miss Joe Keery more than life
Thank you for the prompt, anon! I have received a seperate double-date Jancy request asking specifically for Dom!Nancy and Sub!Jonathan fucking next to Reader so that’s also here. I let Nancy get touchy with Reader because she would most certainly want a taste of you, no matter what Steve had to say about it + obligatory Jonathan spit kink.
I write a lot. I just love these characters loving on you. Feel free to send in more stuff, please! Bien à toi ~ Claire
divider credits to @pixopix - header photos from Pinterest.
There was something special about the way Nancy’s gaze was always glued to your body, studying every movement in a way that was unwavering, yet never truly unnerving.
“Your eyes… you look like one of my Great Aunt Betty’s haunted dolls,” you teased, catching her stare. “Do you ever spook Jonathan?”
“Only late at night,” Nancy chuckled, continuing to adjust the strap on your bra.
You simply nodded, allowing her to work.
To others, intimacy like this would be odd. In conservative Indiana, it was nearly blasphemous.
Still, you’d grown comfortable with the notion that ‘weird’ wasn’t always wrong, especially when ‘weird’ was happening in Hawkins on a daily.
Your closeness to Nancy was nothing new, only blossoming since you’d met each other back in 6th-grade gym class (when both of you refused to run the mile). Since then, you happily accepted Nancy’s need for proximity as an act of devotion - a love language.
After all, there was nothing as comforting as having Nancy ‘Knock ‘Em Down’ Wheeler always by your side. The best ‘Best Friends Forever’.
“Done. Let me fix the other one,” Nancy offered, already moving to adjust the tightness on your other bra strap.
Tonight certainly felt no different than the many prior nights you’d spent gossiping in Nancy’s room as a child, except you two were no longer in middle school. Time rolls forward, delivering a plethora of gifts. With womanhood came responsibilities; jobs and boyfriends and bills and a keen sense of confidence in knowing what you wanted- and tonight, you wanted to fuck Steve.
Nancy, of course, was more than happy to help with your endeavors.
You turned around fully to face her, feeling rather exposed in Nancy’s childhood bedroom in such risqué attire.
“I feel stupid,” you muttered shyly, your body adorned in cheap, black lingerie. “I had to drive all the way to that sex shop downtown for this, and I don’t even think it fits right.”
“Stop it, you’re fine.” Nancy shook her head. “And by fine, I mean you look really hot.”
You responded with a soft huff of annoyance, still unsure. “Even my ass? Maybe I should’ve grabbed a medium instead of a small.”
“Turn to the side real quick,” Nancy demanded, sitting on her bed.
You did as told, allowing her large eyes to do what they had always done best - observe you. You looked at yourself over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of your profile in the vanity mirror. Nancy poked and prodded your lingerie into place.
“At least it makes my boobs look nice?” you tried convincing yourself, impressed with the sudden cleavage the bra provided.
Even you could admit to a certain confidence that came with the way the black lace hugged your curves so tightly. Your soft skin was only exaggerated by the barely-there coverage of sheer fabric, leaving little to the imagination.
Nancy gave a soft ‘hmmm’, gently running her hand up the back of your silky thigh. You were surprised as her path made its way inward, her cool fingertips tracing up past your garter belt, unexpectedly ghosting over your center.
Your breath caught in your throat, unsure of what was happening. Nancy’s touch retreated, now firmly placing both hands on your hips.
“Now face forward, please,” she spoke, using her hands to position your hips to turn you from your side to your back.
You complied, of course, hoping Nancy wouldn’t notice the slick spot on your panties that most certainly wasn’t there before.
Your new pose gave Nancy a proper view of your (almost) bare ass, albeit for the smallest thong string holding everything together. Her fingers were back at work, adjusting the waistband lace so it lay nice and flat against your skin.
You were shocked at the sudden feeling of your thong being pulled back before immediately snapping against your skin with a sharp sting.
“Ouch! Quit it, Nance! I don’t want any red marks for Steve,” you lectured, no hint of genuine upset in your tone.
Nancy shrugged, standing up and facing you with an innocent expression.
“What? Just checking the quality! Even if it’s a bit trashy, you two have been together for almost a year. Steve would still want you even if you were wearing literal trash bags.”
You couldn’t help but smile. You knew Nancy was right.
It had been nearly two months since you and Steve had the opportunity to be intimate. Your schedules had been so conflicted lately between your night shifts at Hawkins Memorial and his morning ones at the radio station.
The last time you and Steve had both planned a night off, Steve was knuckles-deep in your pussy, cramped in the backseat of his BMW, when he received the dreaded comm from Dustin to help ‘save the world’… again.
But you were his world, and tonight you hoped the added lace details would ensure that.
“Thanks again for coming over. I know you and Steve don’t get that much time together, so it means a lot,” Nancy smiled.
You nodded, as if you truly had a choice if you’d be here tonight.
You and Steve had both been reluctantly roped into what Jonathan liked to call ‘Fun Film Friday’, which was really only fun for him. It usually involved meeting at the Byers or Wheeler house, watching a movie, then Jonathan asking a million questions about the cinematography or acting style that went way over all of your heads.
Still, she had promised you only one movie. ‘I promise we will be quick; just one movie. We haven’t had a double-date in weeks! You can wear your new lingerie over here, then devour Steve the moment credits roll. Just please come.’
She even pinky promised, and Nancy Wheeler always kept her promises.
Your train of thought disappeared at the sudden assault of a loud knock on Nancy’s bedroom door. You immediately reached for the silk robe you’d brought along, throwing it on in an attempt to make yourself decent.
Nancy groaned. “FUCK OFF, MIKE! WE’RE BUSY!”
“It’s just us!” you heard Jonathan’s muffled voice through the door.
Nancy made her way over, unlocking the door. “There you guys are! I thought I told you seven o’clock?.”
Jonathan walked in first, hands overflowing with chips and candy for tonight’s moive plans.
“Yeah, our bad,” he mumbled, placing a soft kiss on Nancy’s lips before giving a polite nod to you.
Right behind him came Steve, all bravado and charm, as always.
Steve beamed, rushing to you immediately.
“And there she is! My sweet, sexy, amazing, god damn angel-of-a-woman,” he chuckled loudly, pulling you tightly against his chest in a compressing hug. “God, baby. It’s only been a week. I was goin’ through withdraws, ya know?”
“I missed you more,” was all you could manage, speaking into his chest.
Steve’s comforting scent of Old Spice aftershave, mixed with his unique musk, immediately enveloped you, making you feel right at home. He placed big kisses against every inch of your face before capturing your lips in the most tender kiss.
Time always slowed in moments like these. Even if absent from your life momentarily, Steve always returned to you as if home from war - desperate, loving, and usually very horny.
Steve pulled back. “Now, would ya look at that? What do we have going on here, babygirl?” he smirked, shaking off his denim jacket.
“What? We’ve just been waiting for you two to come back with a movie.”
It was true, after all.
He snorted. “Yeah, but why is my girlfriend all wrapped up in a silky robe in Nancy Wheeler’s bedroom, huh?”
Steve looked down, gently brushing a stray lock of hair out of your eyes, studying your face briefly for any hints.
“Do you like showing off your nice legs, or are you two just playin’ dress up, again?” Steve joked, letting out a laugh too short to properly fool you. He loved to fake nonchalance, but the not-so-subtle possessive undertones were always present in Steve’s voice when it came to you.
You hate to admit it, you truly do, but damn it. Jealousy always looks so fucking good on Steve Harrington.
Jonathan chimed in, locking the bedroom door.
“Erm, sorry we took so long. Stevie here wasn’t interested in any of my nice arthouse films back at my place.”
“Not my fault, Byers. We ended up making a quick stop at the store for some snacks, and I ended up buying something wayyyy better.” Steve started digging into his denim jacket pocket, fishing out a video cassette tape.
“Look what I found at Big Buy - Killer Klowns from Outer Space! It just came out on VHS, we’re all gonna hate it!”
You could hear Nancy groan loudly, followed by a ‘told you’ from under Jonathan’s breath.
“Steve, honey? I’m hoping we could watch an actually good movie for once,” you chuckled.
You never truly knew whether Steve’s bad taste in movies was ironic, genuinely terrible, or if he was simply trying to be excused from any future Fun Film Friday double-date invites.
You were almost certain it was the latter.
“Sure, sure. I gotcha,” Steve sighed. “But if you want to make a quick run to Family Video, we have to dress you in somethin’ a little more modest, Princess. As much as I’d hate to put more clothes on you, we don’t need Hopper arresting your cute ass for indecent exposure.”
“Actually,” Nancy interrupted, rolling over to the side of her bed to brush through a pile of junk on her nightstand. Eventually, she pulled out her own VCR tape. “I was thinking we could try watching this indie flick Robin recommended.”
“Oh, c’mon. You’re gonna take Robin’s recommendations over mine?” Steve waved his movie dramatically. “Clowns… and they’re in space!”
Jonathan plucked the tape from Nancy’s hand, turning the box over. “ ‘Passions of the Undone - Young Victorian Princess Elizabeth Weatherby moonlights in the red-light district of Amsterdam in an effort to rekindle her repressed sexual spark. Follow along as Elizabeth navigates the dangers of falling in love with the nightlife, unleashing her taboo desires before entering her arranged betrothal. Can identity be found even in the darkest of places?’ ”
Steve frowned. “A romance? Nah- Boring. I still vote Killer Klowns.”
“This movie is NC-17,” Jonathan added, raising a knowing eyebrow at Steve.
A slight pause followed as Steve immediately conceded, suddenly keen on the idea.
“Okay, so it’s basically porn. Now that I can get behind. What do you say, baby?”
“I’m always down for some ‘romance’,” you shrugged.
Steve smirked proudly. “That’s my girl.”
He pushed a warm kiss to your temple before pulling you onto Nancy’s bed with him, getting in a comfortable position to endure the next 90-or-so minutes. He was now holding you close to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you securely.
“Don’t think I’m going to let the robe thing slip, baby girl. Whatever the reason, I don’t like you showing off what’s mine,” he whispered into your ear, before retreating back against the pillow.
Jonathan made his way across the room, slipping the tape into Nancy’s tv set that sat snug in the corner, the static screen buzzing to life.
Nancy handed you some M&M’s that the boys had picked up for you both, knowing your affinity for sweets.
This double date couldn’t be too bad. One quick movie for Nancy, a few of Jonathan’s relentless questions, then you’d be whisked away into Steve’s Beamer to have him tear off your lingerie with his teeth, all before midnight.
You allowed yourself to relax, taking some of the M&M’s to munch on as the film finally began.
⋆｡°✩
You had always enjoyed foreign films.
Hell, you were the one to introduce Jonathan to international directors like Hayao Miyazaki and Jean-Luc Godard, often priding yourself on your open-mindedness - on being cultured.
Right now, not even thirty minutes into Passions of the Undone, and you were at the breaking point of nearly becoming undone yourself.
Robin’s tastes had always been eccentric, but this choice was simply odd.
The English captions were not aligned with the fast-paced Dutch dialogue, leaving you clueless about which character said what. Scenes were spliced together in a bizarre way that leaned more amateur than artistic. Every available inch of the screen was being utilized as a way to fill it with at least one naked woman; sometimes many, many more.
Maybe that was the real draw of the film all along.
You had no idea whether Steve had fallen asleep or was simply bored with reading the captions, having said not a word since the movie had started. He simply held you, resting peacefully against Nancy’s headboard.
“Honey? Are you awake?” you asked.
Steve gave you a soft squeeze, nuzzling into your neck. “Yep. Wide awake.”
“You’re really quiet. Is this movie turning you on, or turning you off?” you teased.
“Hmm. Honestly, I stopped paying attention a while ago. I’m watching somethin’ much more interesting.” Steve whispered.
His comment puzzled you. Steve must have been able to pick up on your confusion, gently nudging his shoulder to the left of the bed where the couple beside you had been cuddling.
Their gazes were fixed on the tv screen, but Jonathan and Nancy were most certainly not watching the movie.
Nancy was cuddled up beside Jonathan, head of bouncy curls resting innocently on his shoulder. Her hand, however, could be found in Jonathan’s jeans, which had surprisingly been unzipped.
Her hand was moving rhythmically inside of Jonathan’s pants, stroking her boyfriend's cock quietly through his underwear. They weren’t being too discreet, as you could clearly see the outline of Jonathan’s length attempting to break free of his black briefs.
You watched, almost transfixed, as Jonathan bit his lip in a desperate attempt to keep quiet. Nancy’s fingers disappeared further, now slipping into the front flap of his underwear to allow herself full access to him. The softest whimper could be heard escaping from deep within Jonathan. He closed his eyes in pleasure, tilting his hips towards Nancy for more.
“They’re really gettin’ at it over there, huh, babe? You think they get off to us watching them have fun?” Steve whispered against your neck.
“Shush!” You playfully elbowed him behind you.
You couldn’t help the warmth that flooded your lower extremities as you witnessed your best friend and her boyfriend touching beside you. They really were in their own little world, Jonathan looking to Nancy for any sort of reaction while Nancy simply focused on the film.
Steve was right, this was way more interesting than Robin’s stupid Dutch movie.
Steve planted a few more kisses up your neck, making his way back to the spot that drove you crazy behind your ear.
“Oh, so you want to not focus on them, huh? Fine, let’s talk about you, baby. Like what the hell you’re hiding under that robe of yours, hmm? Have you been showing off your pretty little body to Nancy again?”
“Steve, knock it off!” you groaned, hoping he’d drop it. You didn’t drag your ass downtown and drop $50 on shitty lingerie just to have his surprise spoiled before you even got the chance to have your boyfriend all to yourself.
“What was that!?” Steve grabbed your jaw roughly, turning your face towards him. “You know Daddy doesn’t take attitude. Knock it off, or I’ll take care of your back-talk issue myself. Got it?” he growled.
You nodded sheepishly.
“Good girl…” he spoke lowly, eyes darkened. “Now, tell me why you’re half naked in Nancy’s home, all alone, just the two of you, or I’ll inspect your body myself. Want me to do that? Right here in front of our friends, huh? I bet they’d love that, actually.” Steve snorted, releasing his firm grip on your jaw.
God, you loathed when he became so possessive. What you hated more was that his jealousy did, in fact, turn you on immensely.
His fingers simply slipped the robe off your shoulders without asking, causing the silk to fall to your waist instead. You were now left almost completely exposed, the lingerie doing little to hide your perky nipples poking through the lace.
Steve stilled, for a moment, not expecting the attire. His calloused hands began moving immediately to squeeze your tits from behind.
“God damn, babe. Is this just for me? You know how much I always wanted to dress you up in some black lace just like this.”
You nodded, a brief surge of relief coursing through you at the thought of Steve enjoying your lingerie choice. A quick glance over to the busy couple beside you brought a bit of relief. They were far too preoccupied with each other.
“You always said I look best in black. I was trying to save it for later. Nancy was just helping me adjust it earlier.”
“Mmm hmm.” He nodded, pulling the robe off your waist to reveal the sheer lace thong. “Black is your best color, but this is downright delicious. I hope it wasn’t too expensive, because as soon as we get out of here I’m gonna-”
Jonathan suddenly let out a loud whimper beside you.
“Yes… ‘m being so good for you, Nance. Please?” He whined. The need in his voice is almost tearing at your heartstrings.
You blinked. Steve paused, fixated on your friends once more.
“Sorry. He gets a bit vocal sometimes,” Nancy smiled, though her hand was still well within the confines of Jonathan’s pants and into his briefs, her movement now slower than before.
Nancy noticed Steve’s hands gripping your breasts, now nearly naked and sprawled across his lap, with no robe anywhere on the bed.
“Looks like Steve likes the lingerie?” Nancy asked.
Steve couldn’t help but chuckle, tentatively massaging your breasts again.
“Hell yeah, I do. And don’t worry too much about Byers over there. This one can get whiny, too,” he teased, one of his hands leaving your breast to instead graze your inner thigh.
He gave it a big squeeze, ‘mine’, before his fingers eventually found the slickness that had already been accumulating on your skin.
“Oh? And apparently, someone can’t help herself. Already makin’ a mess in her brand new panties and I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“STEVEN!” You cried, face blushing profusely with embarrassment.
Why the hell was he feeling you up like this in front of people? This was weird. No, this was completely inappropriate.
Steve simply did not seem to care. He was a man of little shame when it came to sex. Few worries, big ego, and an even bigger cock.
Nancy pulled the pillows that had pilled up between you two during the movie, allowing her full access to view your body being groped and grabbed by Steve.
“She was already turned on just by me touching her earlier. Don’t give yourself too much credit.” Nancy shot at Steve.
“Is that right?” Steve looked down at you, his nostrils flaring. “You let her touch you? Did you get all wet from her, babe?”
Nancy’s eyes were now glued to you, as always, waiting for confirmation.
“Maybe? I can’t help it,” you offered.
Nancy smirked, quickening her pace of striking Jonathan’s lank within his pants, obviously pleased with your confession.
Jonathan whimpered again as he pawed at Nancy to keep going.
“You two wouldn’t mind if I just take care of Jonathan real quick, would you? I would usually wait until you leave, but we’re past any weirdness, right?” Nancy smiled innocently.
You desperately wanted to argue ‘no, you weren’t passed anything!’… but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. Not truly. Not in a time like this.
You’d seen Nancy naked more times than you could count over the past 10+ years of your friendship. She’d see you naked, and you’d both certainly seen Steve naked.
As for Jonathan, you’d heard enough about Nancy’s sex life that it honestly didn’t really matter.
Now here you were, almost completely nude, in your best friend's bed, who was currently attempting to jerk off her boyfriend while yours was tracing the outlines of your pussy through your lace panties. All of this is happening against the background noise of some shitty erotica film. This was honestly one of the more pleasant ‘weird’ situations you’ve ended up in.
It would be weirder not take the opportunity that is being presented to you.
Steve’s finally broke the silence. “No, no, go ahead and take care of Byers. In fact, the way Princess is dripping tells me I should probably do the same.”
“STOP SAYING THINGS LIKE THATTTT!” you begged, not knowing why Steve was insisting on embarrassing you.
“Relax…” Nancy cooed, gently reaching out to touch your thigh with her free hand.
She thought for a moment. “It’s Fun Film Friday, remember? Just…pretend you’re Princess Elizabeth indulging in her fantasies for a bit. You know, for ‘fun’?”
Nancy’s big eyes searched your face for every micro-expression that crossed your features that might elude to your feelings you hopelessly attempted to hold back - Fear, lust, shame, love.
Her long fingers caressed up your thigh to your hip bone. Steve’s breathing seemed to quicken, watching Nancy’s movements cautiously.
Nancy’s hand seemed to then dip into your inner thigh before briefly applying pressure against your soaked thong, immediately pulling back.
“Steve? Is she always this responsive?” Nancy asked.
It was a redundant question asked only for Steve’s sake. Nancy knew very well how you secretly yearned to be under someone else's touch at all times. Perhaps you accidentally confessed it to her at one of your many tipsy sleepovers.
But something told you that Nancy Wheeler naturally attracted those who yearned to be controlled.
“Yeah, she’s pretty vocal,” Steve shrugged. “Other times, she gets too quiet. In her head, ya know? I wish Princess could just quiet her little mind sometimes.”
Nancy nodded, moving herself down from the head of the bed near you. She was now positioning her face near Jonathan’s exposed hips, his band t-shirt having come off to reveal his slim torso during the time you’d been distracted. She started shimmying off Jonathan’s jeans down his hips and thighs and off to her bedroom floor.
“This is good. Maybe ‘Princess’ will feel less shy seeing me suck my baby’s leaking cock. Watch into a weeping mess.”
Jonathan whined, cheeks flushed with sweaty arousal (and perhaps his own shame). “‘m not a mess…j-just…”
“Just what, babyboy?” Nancy mocked, yanking Jonathan’s briefs down in a swift motion to reveal his hardened cock springing free, pink tip bouncing against his abdomen.
The technique Nancy was using was devilishly slow. Her thumb teased up and down a visible vein under Jonathan’s arched shaft, somewhere he so obviously wanted her to touch if the mewls of ‘please’ and ‘thank you, Miss’ were any indication.
Steve placed a forceful kiss on your lips as he adjusted himself, moving out from behind you and down towards the lower half of the bed, similar to where Nancy was lying.
“Ridiculous,” he shook his head, eyebrows knitted in concentration. Steve began kneeling at the end of Nancy’s bed, pulling your ankles towards him.
Two things made Steve Harrington unquestionably jealous to the point of breaking. Men who claimed to have better hair than him, and those who continuously happened to catch your wandering eyes, in that exact order.
“No way in hell I’m gonna let my girl gawk at Jonathan fuckin’ Byers and Nancy goddamn Wheeler when I’m right here.”
Steve pried open your legs. It was hard to make out his exact expression with just the glow of the tv illuminating the room, but the shadows cascading across Steve’s face suggested something primal had awoken within him.
“Yeah, you want Daddy like this? Right here, huh?” Steve cooed, hair tickling your skin. “Let me take good care of you.”
He admired your legs for a moment, taking his time as he began kissing, biting, and licking up into your inner thigh.
As he finally made his way to your center, Steve’s tongue darted out, lapping up the wetness that had seeped through the lace of your panties with an appreciative ‘hmm’.
His skillful tongue helped maneuver the string of your thong to the side of your crotch with practiced ease.
“You love when I suck your clit, huh, babe,” he mumbled into your folds, teeth immediately seeming to find your clit. Steve suckled softly, brown eyes looking up at you, hoping his talents would elicit the praise of your moans.
Your eyes rolled back, encouraging him to keep going.
Steve eagerly started working his warm mouth from your clit, down your slick folds until he was at your core, throbbing eagerly with need for him. He spread your thighs even further apart to allow himself deeper access to your cunt.
Similar to Nancy’s technique, Steve preferred to start hot and heavy, getting you worked up into a needy mess before slowing the pace down to a painful tease.
Steve’s feverish lapping melted into a gentle massage, taking your pink folds between his lips softly, allowing his tongue the time to trace through every inch of your, no, his pretty pussy, making sure to drink any of your sweet arousal he could.
There was nothing Steve loved more than to worship your cunt. He always let you know every time he did, making sure to leave you absolutely breathless, a symphony of moans and a body slicked in sweat; still famished for more.
“Keep going, Nance. Please. A-almost there. I’ve been s’good i-i promise,” Jonathan whined beside you, grabbing for your hand through the layers of sheets, seemingly experiencing his own oral revelations.
Nancy was in her element, sucking Jonathan’s length to the back of her throat with ease. You watched as your best friend bobbed her head back and forth, one hand jerking the base of his cock where her swollen lips simply couldn’t reach.
Her devotion to Jonathan was also just as impressive, making sure to give every inch of his cock undivided attention. Jonathan seemed quite sensitive to begin with, and her technique only heightened the tension within him.
Every pretty moan or whimper Jonathan let out incited the lustful gaze of Nancy, her eyes peering up at him through her spot kneeling on the floor. She was clearly ravished by the fact that her man had become undone while he was deep within the walls of her throat.
Your own partner had become impatient himself, as Steve began to pick up his pace. No longer a tease, but a man in search of glory. His tongue was now circling the rim of your hole, your cunt pulsating in need to have something to fill it.
“Ah… AHH!” You couldn’t help the loud moans Steve was releasing from your body.
“Shhhh,” Jonathan gave you a shy smile, adjusting his torso to be closer to you while Nancy continued her work. “We can’t be t-too loud. What if someone comes home? ‘Sposed to be watching a movie, remember?” He stuttered out, his soft eyes fixated on your lips.
Unexpectedly, Jonathan leaned over, capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. You suppose that's an effective way to shut you up.
His tongue began immediately darting out to taste your lips, so gently and lovingly as your mouth opened to allow him in. The kiss was tender, forbidden in a way that was somehow more intimate than just fucking.
It sent an instant shock of arousal straight to your clit, a nearly overwhelming mix of shame and excitement.
You pulled away, unsure of how an overprotective Steve and your best friend would react to you kissing Jonathan.
To your surprise, Nancy was all smiles as she continued working on Jonathan’s cock. She always did share everything with you. Food, clothes, jewelry, and now her boyfriend.
Your eyes quickly shifted to Steve between your legs, who looked somewhat bemused at his girl making out with the other submissive within the group.
You knew Steve had little respect for Jonathan to begin with, referring to him as weak or sensitive almost daily. It was always Nancy he’d been more cautious of when it came to you.
“Good job, Princess.” Steve pulled back, placating your hole by inserting one of his large fingers within you while he talked. “Are you having fun with Byers?”
Nancy leaned back from Jonathan’s thighs, her hand still jerking his cock.
“Okay, they’re kind of adorable? Our two sluts can’t even go ten minutes without touching each other.”
“Maybe our mouths aren’t enough, huh?” Steve suggested, immediately sending you and Jonathan into a fit of denial. ‘No, no, no’.
“What does Jonathan taste like, hun?” Nancy asked you, a smirk on her lips.
“I…” you were lost for words, unable to focus on the present. Everything felt like a dream, hazy around the edges.
“Nancy asked you a question, baby. What does her boytoy taste like?” Steve prodded, removing his fingers from your pussy entirely as punishment for your lack of answers.
“Here,” Jonathan offered. His cold hand softly squeezes your cheeks, causing your lips to part open. His touch was surprisingly warm, and (unsurprisingly) much softer than Steve’s had been.
He paused, inhaling, then leaning forward and spitting into your mouth. You both let out soft moans as you watched his saliva trail from his lips and onto your tongue.
You felt degraded, but God, it was perfect. You swallowed without being asked, surprisingly desperate for Jonathan in a way that was previously dormant within your desires.
“Cinnamon,” you answered, unsure how to describe the sweet-spiciness of Jonathan that lingered on your taste buds.
“Well, yeah, only ‘cause Byers was eating Hot Tamale candies when we started the movie,” Steve smirked, attempting to find any excuse that would belittle Jonathan.
“That’s true. He does love those things,” Nancy affirmed, leaning back in to lick a long strip up the side length of Jonathan’s cock. The man groaned, immediately wrapping his thighs around her face in need. “But he kinda tastes like that all over, too.”
Steve rolled his eyes, running a finger through your folds again to keep you nice and wet. “Yeah, but Byers has nothing on Princess.”
Nancy sighed. Steve is always trying to make everything a competition.
“Really? What’s she taste like?”
Steve paused for a second, conflicted between the jealousy that would undoubtedly come with sharing you, and the pride that comes with showing off your perfect body. His perfect body.
With that, Steve scooched (reluctantly) from his current position, offering your glistening cunt to Nancy.
You propped yourself up from the pillow and onto your arm, watching as Nancy removed herself from Jonathan’s legs and toward your center.
This was very new territory for you. Steve had been the only one who had been lucky enough to have the opportunity to eat you out - until now.
Unsure of what to do, Steve gently caressed your outer thigh for reassurance.
“Be a good girl for Daddy and let Nancy taste you, yeah? I just wanna show you off a bit.”
You managed to nod, watching as Nancy kneels into your swollen, pink folds. She kept her eyes focused on you through her long lashes.
You knew you were supposed to be freaking out given the circumstances, but all you felt were flutters within your stomach. You almost couldn’t look Nancy in the eyes, hoping she couldn’t see the pink hue that settled into your cheeks.
You averted your gaze, fear starting to settle in. Sure, you were open-minded; this whole night had dissolved into a mess of newness. But this? This could ruin more than a decade of friendship. Your best friend and someone with whom you were closer than some family members. You wanted to stop, but not nearly as much as you wanted to push forward.
A glance at the tv showed the Princess character being fucked by a horde of people in some medieval brothel room; very much not helping your nerves.
Jonathan adjusted himself, pulling you against his chest similar to how Steve held earlier. He could sense your anxiety, wanting to give support.
“Watch it, Byers,” Steve warned. “I’m already whoring her out too much as it is.”
Jonathan said nothing, placing sweet kisses up and down your neck. One of his hands reached around you to palm your tits that had long escaped the confines of your lingerie, finally unclamping the bra and tossing it aside.
The warmth of Nancy’s breath hitting the cool slick of your folds made you feel dizzy. Any words of hesitation caught in your throat as you and Jonathan watched his girlfriend give kitten licks to your dripping pussy.
You hummed, surprised at the soft pleasure of her affection soothing the previous sting left by Steve’s stubble that had harshly rubbed against your sensitive folds. It was the same, but it was different. A good kind.
Nancy took your vocalization as approval, continuing to move her tongue further into you with each lick. The warmth of her tongue almost suffocates your clit as you let out a whiny moan that Jonathan attempts to cover up once more by kissing you passionately once again.
Steve grumbled in dissatisfaction, upset that the scene in front of him was also awakening new feelings, turning him on drastically. His cock was now painfully hard within his jeans. Steve palmed at his bulge, itching for any sort of relief, but held his tongue. He had bigger priorities right now, including your comfort. Your pleasure. Your safety.
“Put two fingers in her. My Princess loves riding Daddy’s fingers.”
Nancy did as told, inserting two slender fingers into your pussy with ease. You moaned into Jonathan’s mouth, as he barely allowed you time to catch your breath.
While Steve’s fingers were warm and thick inside of you, Nancy’s were cold, and much longer, able to reach further than you were expecting. You swore she could feel the knot-like tension building in your stomach. Nancy began fucking her fingers into you as they curled around your velvet walls in search of that spot you oh-so needed for her to push.
After a gentle push on the head from Steve, Nancy leaned down, now lapping at your cunt. She continued, eyes staring directly up at you and Jonathan before her pouty lips pulled back, glistening with your arousal.
“She does taste good. You’re right for once, Steve.”
Steve smirked, satisfied. “Yeah, it’s addicting. If I’m not fucking her, I want babygirl to be riding my face at all times.”
Jonathan groaned into your shoulder, hands now holding your hips. He desperately pushed his hard member against your thigh, hoping for any sort of friction that could provide relief for the constant teasing Nancy had shown him earlier.
“Would you like that, Jonathan? To let me ride your face while you touch yourself?” Nancy offered, already knowing the answer.
Jonathan nodded eagerly, letting you go and moving back to lie down on the bed.
“For once, Byers and I want the same thing,” Steve said, pushing Nancy out of your thighs and back to the side of the bed she’d been previously occupying.
Steve had been very good and very patient while Nancy and Jonathan had some fun with you. But that was enough. He was done sharing for now and needed you back with him immediately.
Steve stood from the floor, making his way back to the top of Nancy’s bed. He flopped down onto the pastel pillows, rather excited for what was to come.
All you could do was smile at the silliness that was Steve’s constant jealousy, giving him a tender kiss as the essence of your arousal still lingered on his lips.
⋆｡°✩
Nancy began to strip.
First to come off was her blouse, which she pulled off so quickly that one of the buttons caught in her hair. Next was her simple bra, revealing her small breasts, which you’d seen many times before.
What was surprising was when her shorts fell to her ankles, revealing that she was wearing no panties underneath. Just her naked cunt.
“What?” She asked you.
You scoffed playfully, “You planned this whole damn thing. The movie choice, suggesting the lingerie, no underwear…”
Nancy only shrugged, giving no direct answer. You stripped off the useless garter belt and thong that you still had on before climbing up on the bed.
Steve smiled, still happy as ever. You couldn’t help but relax a bit more, seeing how sweet and eager he always was to please you. You swung your leg over Steve, now gently sitting on his chest.
“You think Steve will let you me ride your face?” Nancy asked lowly, her eyes big and hopeful as she positioned herself over Jonathan’s face.
“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!” Steve snapped. “Babygirl is a pillow princess. You both only have the privilege of givin’ her pleasure. I am the only one who she can please, capeche?”
Nancy rolled her eyes at Steve before turning her focus back to Jonathan, who already had his tongue out, almost panting in anticipation.
You couldn’t help but chuckle at the usual possessiveness Steve had over you before following suit, wrapping your thighs around Steve’s head, hovering your pussy over his face.
“Nuh uh, pretty girl. Turn around.”
“What?” you paused. “Do you want me to watch the movie while we do this or something?”
Steve frowned, unamused. “I want to eat you out, baby. Dear god I really, really want to. Just… my dick will fall clean off my body soon from lack of attention.”
“Jesus,” you laughed, reaching back to feel Steve’s obvious bulge desperately trying to escape through the front of his jeans. You obliged, turning around so that your pussy and ass were now in Steve’s face.
You quickly unzipped Steve’s jeans, slim fingers pulling down his boxers to reveal the massive length within his pants. Always intimidating, but you supposed it was a blessing and a curse to have a boyfriend so well endowed.
Nancy was already one step ahead of you both, wasting no time for herself.
“Open your mouth,” Nancy commanded Jonathan, whose mouth was now open wide. “Good job,” she purred, leaning down and spitting into his mouth.
At least you now know where he got the spit kink from.
Jonathan’s soft ‘thank you’ was barely heard as Nancy immediately pushed her soaking cunt onto Jonathan’s face. She moved back and forth, grinding into Jonathan.
Steve took it upon himself to start as well, pushing his own face into your pussy.
“Oh fuckkk, Steve!” You gasped, trying your best to focus as Steve greedily pushed his nose up against your ass. His tongue was already buried deep inside you, rough hands on your hips in an attempt to have you rock back into his face before pushing your mouth forward onto his cock.
You started licking up and down Steve’s shaft in an attempt to lubricate it enough to fit in your mouth. You truly loved nothing more than feeling Steve fucking his cock deep into your throat; you really did. However, it wasn’t just the length that always made such attempts rather tricky, but also the sheer power he held over you in positions like this, even when you were on top. Steve was always in control.
Steve continued, using his tongue to finally fuck your hole that he so nicely teased earlier. His palms were resting on your asscheeks, spreading them open greedily so he could have a better view of every single part of you.
Steve’s, “keep going, babygirl. You’re doing so well,” seemed to sync up perfectly with Nancy’s “such a whore, Jonathan. Being so good,” creating a symphony of encouragement you didn’t know you needed.
You could feel Steve growl into your pussy when you stroked him in a circular motion, your mouth sucking softly on his balls as he was desperately pushing himself up and into your throat. You began to lick around his swollen head, being mindful to apply some pressure over the slit, where precum was already greeting you.
Steve moaned into your cunt, vocalizing his pleasure as he swirled your pussy around his face, practically smashing your body back into him. The way he’d maneuver your hips so he could see your asscheeks bounce above him made you feel silly for even worrying about lingerie earlier.
You peeked over to see Nancy having the time of her life, bouncing herself as Jonathan kept his tongue sticking out, flattened for her to ride and use to her own pussy's pleasure. Jonathan’s arms were being held over his head by Nancy, his cock still hard.
He apparently hadn’t earned the pleasure of touching himself yet; poor thing.
Jonathan’s voice cracked as he looked up at Nancy, almost on the verge of tears. “Keep going. Ride my face harder, please.”
You felt a strong sensation flip-flop within your stomach as Steve pulled his tongue out from between your folds, quickly running it over your pink asshole, something he frequently did to draw your attention back to him during sex.
And it always works.
You immediately went back to stroking and sucking as much as you could handle of his cock, moans becoming louder, the vibrations pleasing Steve’s length stuffed down your throat.
He responded with his own grunt, pulling you back onto him, shaking his face into your pulsing clit once more.
A surprising, sharp slap was felt on your right asscheek.
A quick glance to the other side of the bed revealed Nancy, still bucking into Jonathan’s face, but her hand now gripping onto ass.
“You have to be…” she paused to catch her breath between waves of pleasure. “You have to be quiet for us, okay?” she lectured softly, that same tone she always said so lovingly to you.
All you could do was nod, muffling any remaining noises with Steve’s cock in your mouth. You could feel Nancy’s delicate fingers still on your ass, helping to guide you onto Steve’s face.
“That’s it… good girl,” Nancy praised with a smile.
Her words must have annoyed Steve, causing a gentle bite to your clit in protest.
Nancy continued. “You and Jonathan are being such good little whore’s, letting us use you both how we please.”
You and Jonathan let out muffled whimpers of agreement, both of your mouths preoccupied with pleasing your lovers.
Steve pulled his tongue back, just enough to mumble words into your pussy. His warm breath came out in huffs as he tried to steady it.
“Such a pretty little pink pussy, all for Daddy. I feel you tightening on my tongue, yeah? Gonna come for me, Princess? Wanna taste more of you. This cunt belongs to me, yeah? Mmmm. God, I love you so much. My hole to use however I like…Come for Daddy; it’s the least you can. Come for me. Now!”
Steve’s words always did you in, sending you over the edge. Your pussy quivered, becoming slick with cum as Steve continued licking, and grotesque noises filled the room.
Your orgasm caused Nancy to reach her own, slowing herself down as she continued to slide across Jonathan’s face. “Good job, yesss. Feels sooo good,” she chuckled, riding the high of elation on his face.
She finally released Jonathan’s hands from above, who immediately started jerking himself while Nancy remained seated.
After a moment to catch his breath, Steve playfully tossed your leg off of his chest, causing your body to fall towards the center of the bed.
Nancy reluctantly dismounted Jonathan, who stopped touching himself with a soft sigh. You turned towards him, trying not to laugh at the hazy bliss that seemed haunt his features.
“Your eyes are all big and dilated,” Jonathan spoke, his voice hoarse.
“So are yours.” You smiled at him.
You two broke into a small fit of giggles, a seemingly innocent moment shared, before Jonathan leaned in for another kiss. You could taste cinnamon once again, now combined with the slick of Nancy still on his lips.
You were only torn away when Steve roughly grabbed your ankles, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed.
“You’re lucky I’m even lettin’ you kiss the bastard, babe. Byers doesn’t deserve it. You’re mine, remember?” Steve snarked, his words low and steady in a way that signified he was not happy.
“No one can use this-” He pushed his finger into your mouth, hooking your cheek and forcing you to look up at him. “-or this-” he continued, pulling the finger out of your mouth and pushing it into your already aching hole, your pussy wrapping around him. “-but me. Got it, Princess?”
You nodded as Steve pulled his finger back. “Yes.”
Steve placed a kiss on your lips, a soft reward for your submission.
Nancy tsked, lying down on the bed beside you, legs hanging over the edge. “There goes Steve, again. Always greedy with his toys.”
“Damn right I am, Wheeler.”
You couldn’t help but get lost in Nancy’s blue eyes again as she smiled at you. The weirdness and confusion from earlier are now a distant memory.
Nancy offered you a soft smile of assurance before her expression changed into one of immense pleasure. The grunts and whimpers from Jonathan telling you he was finally allowed to slide his cock into her.
Steve followed, flipping your legs up onto his shoulders. He eagerly began to press the head of his cock into your wetness, letting out a soft moan at your warmth.
Just like earlier, Steve loved nothing more than to make you a desperate mess beneath him. The way his cock stretched you open was a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, the sting always addicting. He let out rough grunts as he would pull back, the hot air of the room touching your swollen cunt before he’d plunge deep into you once more.
You couldn’t help the whine that would escape your lips as he patiently filled you up, making you take his cock one inch at a time.
“There you are, Princess. You’re still so tight for me even after all that stretchin’. Your pussy must just love my cock, yeah? Don’t worry, shhh. Just let me keep…” He pulled back out before pushing back in deeper. “-just let me take my time. I know… I know...”
Eventually, Steve had achieved his aim, bottoming out within you. You didn’t even attempt to muffle the loud moan that escaped, basking in the feeling of having your love so far inside of you. So warm, so filled.
He stilled his length for a moment more, allowing you the much-needed time to adjust, the weight of his cock always making a bit of your cervix bulge from your abdomen.
“There we go. See? First comes a bit of pain, now you get all the pleasure your pretty pussy can take, babygirl. Always doing such a good job for me.” He praised, brown eyes full of nothing but adoration.
The way Steve paid attention to your body and your needs made you feel like the only woman in the world. You were brought into a completely different headspace, only being drawn back to Earth from the intense sounds of your best friend getting railed next to you.
The contrast was like night and day. Where Steve was eager to make the moment last, Jonathan was just… eager.
Steve began his slow movements again, the burning pain dissolving into a dull pleasure as your bodies responded to one another.
Pull out. Your pussy squeezed desperately around his length, tempting Steve’s cock back inside. Push in.
The feeling of Steve twitching inside you always sent a shiver down your spine. The intimacy between you two intensified as Steve now stood on his toes, his balls slamming greedily against your pussy in an effort to get every inch of himself inside of you.
“Oh, Steveee!” you leaned back against the bed, closing your eyes in pleasure.
For Steve, that simply wouldn’t do, the attention whore he is.
Steve’s fingers brush through your locks, gripping your hair. He angled your head up so you could better see his length disappear into your dripping core.
“Look at me. Watch how good your pussy takes me, baby. S-so tight. It needs me, yeah? Needs me to fill it and use it and taste it-... and…” He trailed off, beginning to lose his focus. “God, you’re mine. Mine, mine, fucking mine.”
You rolled your head back again as Steve let your hair go.
“Bad girl, what did I say about lookin’ at Daddy?” he growled. Steve instantly grabbed your wrists, stretching your arms over your head, holding your wrists captive in his grip.
Your gaze fell back to Nancy, who had been watching you this whole time. She continued being fucked in missionary by Jonathan while Steve fucked into you.
“Having fun?” Nancy mouthed.
“So much fun,” you mouthed back.
Steve picked up the pace once more, his hair sticking to his forehead as he planted sloppy kisses on your inner thighs. Your legs began to tremble, your second orgasm nearing.
“Not yet, babygirl. Daddy’s almost there,” Steve growled, picking up the pace to the point he was panting.
You whined softly in annoyance, trying your best to remain patient.
Cold fingers softly made their way over your hips, down your cunt, and onto your clit, as Nancy started rubbing gentle circles. One hand in your pussy, the other rubbing her own clit.
Steve grunted, “Hands to yourself, N-Nance. That’s my job.”
“I’m just helping. If you’re busy holding her wrists, what else is a girl to do?” Nancy said.
You started pushing yourself further onto Steve’s cock in an effort to have the head of his length continue to pound against your cervix. The feeling of Nancy continuing to massage circles in your clit, combined with the pressure that was building in your stomach from Steve, was threatening to have you done for.
“Mmph…Now?” You whined to Steve, glassy eyes begging for any sort of relief.
Steve sighed, clearly agitated. “Ask correctly,” he snapped, barely holding it together himself.
“May I come now, pretty please?”
“Yeah. Of course you can. You’ve been so good. Come for Daddy, Princess.” He groaned, running out of breath.
With the help of Steve’s magic words once again, you both finished together, riding your orgasms until the high melted reality around you.
Steve rutted into you.
“Fuckkkk. Fillin’ you up nice and pretty, yeah - my babies. My pussy. You’re stuck with Daddy. Oh Jesus-… mmmm,” he groaned, almost collapsing as he pressed his weight down and on top of your body.
He began pressing messy kisses to your salty skin, continuing to rut his cock as far as possible up into your cervix. You closed your eyes as Steve’s hot seed filled you up completely, cum sticking to your thighs. You couldn’t help but bask in the warm satisfaction that had settled into your aching, used core.
Steve stalled, pushing in only a few more half-hearted pumps before finally pulling out.
He immediately went into boyfriend mode, scrambling to lie beside you on Nancy’s bed, pulling you up into his chest. You grabbed onto the shirt he was still wearing.
“Love you so much, baby. You doin’ okay? No worries, you’re safe,” he whispered into your hair. The sweet nothings mixed with his soothing voice began to calm your soul, slowing your pulsing clit.
It seemed Nancy had found her way into her own world of pleasure, riding out her orgasm with Jonathan beside you.
Jonathan didn’t have to be told twice, continuing the same pace, clearly exhausted. His whole body was trembling, and the beautiful sounds he was making only hinted at the absolute whining mess he always was.
Once Nancy seemed to settle under the same dissipating euphoria after her orgasm, she finally said the magic words Jonathan had been wanting to hear all damn night.
“Mkay, baby boy. Come for me-”
Jonathan pushed himself quickly into Nancy’s cunt, coming almost instantly at the command. His loudest whines yet fell from his lips, so vulnerable. Jonathan’s pace began to slow, his face full of relief as he finally pulled out.
Glassy-eyed and absolutely spent, Jonathan immediately crawled onto Nancy, seeking warmth and undoubtedly words of affection.
The four of you relished in the moment, coming down from your orgasms in the peace of Nancy’s room.
The movie you had previously started finished long ago, leaving only the azul glow of the tv default screen to show the contentment that settled on your faces.
The moment was immediately ruined by the extremely aggressive slamming on Nancy’s door, causing the four of you jump in fear.
“TURN DOWN YOUR GODDAMN MOVIE, NANCY!! I HAVE FRIENDS OVER!!”
Mike Wheeler was not happy, the doorknob shaking violently as he tried to enter. Thank god Jonathan was thoughtful enough to lock the door behind him earlier tonight.
Nancy pushed out a half-shout, yelling back in what her strained voice could manage.
“shIT! SoRRY, MikEY!”
You could hear Mike's heavy footsteps retreat down the stairs, leaving you shocked at what had just happened.
The surprise visitor, the sex, the horrible movie. It would take at least a few days for your brain to recover.
“Well, I wasn’t really expecting a second dose of adrenaline so quickly,” you teased.
Steve grumbled in agreement, pressing kisses into your hair.
“I thought you said the house was empty, Nance.”
“It was empty. I can’t control Mike and his stupid friends. They always end up back here,” Nancy sighed, scratching Jonathan’s back as he remained happily sprawled out on top of her.
Steve’s hand reached towards the night’s stand, grabbing a handful of Milk Duds he’d been snacking on earlier. He brought them to your lips, feeding you one at a time.
“Hey, looks like movie night was a success! What was that movie supposed be about, again?” Steve asked.
“A princess who lives a double life as a prostitute,” Jonathan mumbled into Nancy’s skin.
“Oh yeah,” Steve nodded, his finger hooking into your jaw gently to have you look at him. “Dumb movie. You’re the only princess I care about.”
You leaned in to kiss him, feeling the bed dip as Nancy began moving Jonathan’s tangle of slim limbs off of her in an attempt to stand.
“Anyone hungry? I’ve worked up quite an appetite.”
“You’re always hungry,” Jonathan smiled.
“It’s 10 pm. Mel’s Diner on Main should still be open,” you suggested, a common spot you and the Party frequented after many late-night crawls.
Nancy nodded, standing up to stretch before searching for her clothes.
The rest of you followed. Steve was first to find your bra, which had been half-hazardously tossed onto one of Nancy’s lampshades in the middle of your… events.
“It did look nice on you, ya know? I was more than surprised.” Steve smiled, helping you put the bra on.
You began venturing around the room for your thong, as the others were now fully dressed. Unable to find it, you shimmied your way into your jeans and the t-shirt you’d worn upon arriving at Nancy’s this afternoon.
You’d find them eventually. Right now, salty fries and a gluttonous milkshake were very much your priority.
⋆｡°✩
The floaty feeling in your head didn’t really go away.
This made it rather difficult for the four of you to give your best efforts to remain quiet. You tiptoed through the hallway and down the stairs. The front door wasn’t far. A few steps to freedom.
You could hear the kids chatting in the kitchen, allowing you a quick getaway if all went well.
It was somewhat expected that Steve’s weight would cause one of the steps to groan loudly, immediately summoning Mike and Dustin to gather at the landing.
“Hey, what the hell? You all were up there watching a movie?!” Mike asked, clearly confused.
As far as Mike could remember, Nancy never held movie nights in her room, always in the living room with the larger tv and always with many failed attempts at shushing the campaign night he held in the basement.
Mike’s eyes met each of yours, assessing the pink flush that still lingered on your faces. You had no doubt your mascara had smeared a bit during your physical activity.
Nancy scoffed. “So, having people in my room is a crime, now? I wasn’t aware you owned the damn house.”
Mike’s expression soured, sensing unusually high tension.
“What were you watching up there that sounded so…” Mike trailed off.
“Sexually explicit,” Dustin offered. “We could totally hear, like, muffled moaning through the ceiling vents.”
Steve had planned for such accusations, having the foresight to grab the movie from Nancy’s tv before leaving. He shoved the tape into Mike’s hand.
“It’s called Passions of the Undone, if you want to be so nosy. It’s a romance story that isn’t made to be viewed by innocent eyes like yours,” he smirked.
“You could’ve just watched it down here,” Mike snapped back, refusing to let the moment go, much to your dismay. “We can watch R-rated movies now. Robin used to rent them to us all the time at Family Video.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Robin. This shit here is NC-17, kid, which means ‘No Children’. And you two, as far as I’m concerned, are children, now and forever, whether you like it or not.” Steve huffed victoriously, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.
“Was the moaning because of zombies? Is there lots of gore?” Dustin asked.
“What? No, Hernderson. What romance movie has ‘lots of gore’? Sometimes, adults just want to enjoy things in private, in the comfort of a bed. Okay?”
Mike flipped the tape over and read the film description aloud.
“‘ Young Victorian Princess Elizabeth Weatherby moonlights in the red-light district of Amsterdam in an effort to rekindle her repressed sexual spark'…okay yeah. Gross. That explains the weird-ass moaning noises.”
Mike shoved the tape back towards Steve, clearly satisfied with the explanation.
“WAIT WAIT! Does this Elizabeth chick go topless?” Dustin asked eagerly. “Cause I totally have a homework assignment due Monday that requires watching a European erotica film right nowwwwww.”
“You’ll never know,” Nancy added, ushering the three of you out the door. “We’re off to Mel’s. Don’t burn the house down,” Nancy warned Mike, slamming the front door shut.
The mood seemed to instantly shift again, lighter now without the aggressive questioning. The cool air felt nice against your warm skin. The stars were out, and Hawkins felt even more peaceful during quiet hours like this.
Jonathan gestured towards his sedan, fumbling for his keys in his pocket.
“You know, one of us is going to have to actually watch Passions of the Undone. The boys will talk to Robin, and Robin will bombard us with scene-by-scene questions because we finally took one of her film recommendations,” you chuckled softly.
“God fuckin’ damnit, you’re right,” Steve shook his head fondly, sliding the movie securely into his denim jacket. “Now I am the one with the homework assignment of watching a European erotica before my next Squawk shift. Could be worse, I guess.”
Steve’s hand rested on your ass, giving it a brief squeeze before helping you into the backseat of Jonathan’s car - the gentleman he was.
“No panties, babe? I know Mel’s ain’t fancy, but they probably still require decency,” Steve teased, giving you a playful swat before sitting beside you, buckling your seatbelt.
With a soft smile, you leaned back into the seat.
You hadn’t been too worried about the whereabouts of your cheap lingerie until now, when you spotted the thin line of a familiar black lace waistband peaking out of Nancy’s shorts.
The lace was clearly on display for you while she bent down to sit in the front passenger seat beside Jonathan. Your used panties. What you’d just soaked through maybe less than half an hour ago. What Steve had maneuvered off of you with his tongue, now being worn so casually as if normal for best friends.
It was sick -weird. So incredibly Nancy to pull such a power move right under your nose. You knew if you ever wanted them back, it’d be up to you to pry them off, Steve and Jonathan be damned.
Nancy turned to face you, seeing your bewildered gaze exactly where she was hoping it’d be.
For the first time in a long time, you were the one finally gawking at her.
“Finders-keepers,” she mouthed, sticking her tongue out playfully before turning to face forward again.
