chapter 1: it ain’t gonna feel good
chapter warnings: SMUT 18+ .mdni. - pinv (protected — i wrote this with the intention that reader is on birth control!), ANGST, steve harrington x fem!reader, idiot steve, little bit of billy x reader, jealous??steve at the end, steve being weird to reader, pet name once (pretty girl), lowercase is always intentional
shiv’s notes: hii!! i’m so sorry for the wait! the date i was supposed to post this ended up being the same weekend i had an event with my family run business! unfortunately i wasn’t able to get this out on the 26th as that was the main events day and we didn’t get back until a little after 11PM. i’m so excited for everyone to read this chapter! please lmk if anything is spelt wrong or doesn’t make sensen ENJOY MY LOVES!
taglist: @kurtsw7rld96 @hoekeerymm @coldalpsmcu @supershyemma
there was a time when steve harrington didn’t have to think before reaching for you.
he’d sling an arm over your shoulders without a second thought. steal the first sip of your coffee because he insisted it somehow tasted better from your cup. he’d walk into your apartment like he owned the place, kick off his shoes by the door, and collapse onto your couch before you’d even had the chance to say hello.
you were his person and he was yours.
robin joked that if someone saw one of you without the other, it probably meant the world was ending.
you’d laugh every time because it wasn’t entirely wrong.
last night had changed something, it hadn’t been dramatic, there hadn’t been a confession, or some life-altering declaration that belonged in a movie.
it had just been.. quiet.
the two of you had stayed in his apartment far longer than you’d planned. yes, you and steve were in a ‘friends with benefits’ situation but tonight was strictly for studying.. or was it??
well.. thats how it started off
the textbooks of economics lay open between you both on steve’s worn wooden desk, pages filled with highlighted passages and messy margin notes.
you shifted in your chair, the vinyl sticking to your bare thighs where your shorts had ridden up.
the late afternoon sun filtered through his blinds, casting striped shadows across the scatters papers and empty coffee mugs.
“okay so.. if the marginal propensity to consume is 0.8, then the multiplier is..?” steve tapped his pen against his lower lip, his brow furrowed in concentration.
you watched the movement, how his fingers curled around the pen, the slight calluses on his thumb from playing his guitar. you always did like his hands..
“five” you said, dragging your attention back to the economics problem “because one over one minus MPC”
steve nodded, but his eyes drifted from the textbook to your face. the air in the room felt thick and suddenly heavy, with something other than textbook dust and stale coffee.
your pulse quickened as his gaze lingered, tracing the line of your jaw, the curve if your neck where your hair had fallen away.
“right.. five.” he set the pen down, the soft click echoing in the sudden silence. “you know.. we’ve been at this for hours..”
your mouth went dry. this was the moment, the pivot point where studying could be something else.
your arrangement was supposed to be simple: no strings, just stress relief when needed and easy, despite their undeniable feelings for each other.
but steve’s expression held something different tonight, something softer than your usual hungry, needy glances.
“we could always take a break?” you suggested, your voice barely above a whisper
steve stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. he moved around the desk, his movements deliberate, unhurried. when he reached your side, he didnt grab you or pull you like he normally would.
instead, he knelt, his knees finding the worn rug bedsides your chair. his hands rested on your thighs, thumbs stroking circles on your skin.
“you have beautiful legs” he said, his voice low and rough “i’ve always thought so..”
your breath hitched, this wasn’t your usual dynamic. steve was always efficient, direct, getting straight to the fucking. now he was looking at you like you’re something precious, something to be savoured.
his fingers traced the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin there.
“steve..” you started but broke off when his lips found your knee. soft, open-mouthed kisses trailing up your thigh. his hands slid higher, pushing her shorts up as he went.
your head fell back against his chair, fingers tangling in his hair when his mouth reached the edge of her black panties.
“lets move to the bed.. yeah?” he murmured against your skin, but he didn’t wait for an answer. he lifted you easily, his hands supporting your ass as he carried you the few feet to his unmade bed.
the sheets were cool against your back as he laid you down, his body covering yours immediately.
but still, he didn’t rush. his kisses were slow, thorough, exploring your mouth with a tenderness that made your chest ache.
his hands roamed your body, learning curves he’d touched before but somehow never truly known.
when he finally pulled your shirt over your head, his eyes worshipped every inch of exposed skin.
“you’re so fucking beautiful” he breathed, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled into tight points.
you arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. this wasn’t wrong - this was too intimate, too emotional for their arrangement, but your body didn’t care.
steve took his time undressing both of you, revealing skin inch by inch as if unwrapping a gift. when he finally entered you, it was with excruciating slowness.
his cock stretched her open gradually, letting her adjust to every thick inch. your nails dug into his shoulders, your body trembling with the effort not to thrust up and take him deeper.
“look at me.” he demanded softly, his hips beginning a slow, rolling rhythm that made your toes curl. his ryes locked in with yours, dark and intense and filled with something that looked terrifyingly like love. “stay with me, pretty girl”
you couldn’t look away. his strokes were deep, hitting spots inside you that made sparks dance behind your eyelids. this wasn’t fucking, no.. it was love making in the truest sense of the word.
every thrust was a question, every kiss an answer. when your orgasm hit, it wasn’t the sharp, quick release you was used to. it was a wave that kept coming, pulling you under and over and through until you were crying out his name, whilst your body shook with the force of it.
steve followed you over the edge with a hoarse shout, hips jerking as he filled you with his hot seed. he collapsed against you, his face buried in your neck, his body still connected to yours.
for long minutes, you just breathed together, the sweat cooling on your skin, your hearts beating in sync.
then.. everything changed.
steve pulled out abruptly, rolling away from you. he sat on the edge of the bed, his back rigid, not looking at you. the sudden of his absence made you shiver. “steve that was-”
“it’s late” he whispered but his voice was flat and distant as he cut you off “you should probably go”
you pushed yourself up on your elbows, confusion slowly clouding your post orgasmic haze. “huh? steve whats wrong?”
“nothings wrong” he stood up, grabbing his sweatpants from the floor. “i just..- i have an early class tomorrow. and we have that economics assignment to finish”
he wouldn’t even meet your eyes as he dressed, his movements stiff and awkward. you watched him, stomach twisting with hurt and bewilderment.
minutes ago, he’d been looking st you like you were his entire world and now he can’t even look at you?
“oh okay..” you said softly, reaching for your own clothes “i-i’ll go”
the ride home was a blur of streetlights and unshed tears. you pressed your thighs together, still feeling the ghost of him inside you, the lingering warmth of his spill.
but more than that, you felt the evho of his tender touches, the weight of his intense gaze, the devastating intimacy of how he had made love to you.
friends with benefits didn’t look at each other like that. friends with benefits didn’t fuck like they were trying to crawl inside each others souls.
something had shifted tonight, something fundamental. and as you let yourself into your empty dorm, you had that sinking feeling that your simple arrangement was not so simple anymore.
he hadn’t texted you good morning. that, more than anything, should’ve warned you.
normally there’d already be three messages waiting on your phone.
awake? coffee? you better not still be asleep.
you told yourself he was busy but by lunchtime, you knew that wasn’t true. you spotted him outside the student union as he was impossible to miss.
a faded university hoodie hung loosely over his broad frame, sleeves pushed carelessly to his forearms. grey sweatpants, white trainers that had seen far too many walks across campus, backpack hanging lazily from one shoulder.
he always looked comfortable like he’d rolled out of bed ten minutes before class and somehow still looked unfairly good.
his thick brunette hair refused to behave, falling into his face every few seconds until he absentmindedly pushed it back. sunlight caught the hazel hidden in his brown eyes whenever he looked up, warm flecks of green and amber buried beneath chocolate brown.
he looked exactly like home until he looked at you.
for a split second, his expression softened then something shuttered behind his eyes.
“hey,” you said quietly as you reached him.
that was it. one word. he shifted his weight, hands buried in the pocket of his hoodie.
you waited for the rest butit never came.
“are you heading to lunch?”
“i’ve got somewhere to be.”
your smile faltered. “oh.”
silence. the kind that shouldn’t exist between two people who used to talk about everything.
“did i do something last night?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
“then why are you acting like this? what happened last night? i don’t get it steve!”
he finally looked at you, really looked. there was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place. regret, fear, him wanting to say something and refusing to let himself.
“i- i just think we need a little space.”
space. the word hit harder than it should have. you stared at him.
he swallowed. “i’ll see you around.” and then he walked away.
you stood there long after he’d disappeared into the crowd because somehowbeing ignored would’ve hurt less than hearing him ask for distance.
three days later, you’d almost convinced yourself to stop looking for him, almost. you were leaving your psychology lecture when someone stepped directly into your path.
“sorry!” a voice you didn’t recognise. you looked up and saw..
he was tall, with a worn denim jacket layered over a black t-shirt and faded blue jeans that looked like they’d been broken in over years rather than bought that way. messy blonde hair spilled into a mullet that somehow suited him perfectly, brushing the back of his neck whenever he moved. a couple of silver piercings caught the afternoon light, and striking blue eyes met yours with an easy confidence.
he smiled, not too cocky.. more comfortable. “you’re in professor dawson’s class, right?”
“figured.” he offered a hand. “i’m billy, billy hargrove.” you shook it and he grinned.“i’m new here.”
“i think i’d remember someone dressed entirely in denim.”
he laughed. “fair enough.”
across the courtyard, steve looked up and his eyes landed on the two of you, then on billy’s hand still loosely holding yours.
something unreadable flickered across his face before he turned around and walked away, whilst you were left confused, but still smiling to the new student, billy hargrove.
