#lacyiris

You’d both agreed it was mutual, but was it really? The trauma from everything, especially after losing Eddie and Max and you almost losing your own life, you both decided to focus on yourselves.

Steve always knew he needed you. But he had no idea quite how much until you were gone. And now, with you gone, he was a mess.

It’s like he’s back to his high school days – going to trashy parties, getting wasted, finding some girl to fuck before she left when his eyes were still shut in the morning. He’s on his fourth–or was it fifth?–beer when the song starts playing.

Starman by David Bowie.

You’d been dating for six months. Being friends for so long beforehand, it felt like you’d been dating for years at that point. Because of that, you always knew how to cheer him up. You knew him. 

He doesn’t remember why he had such a shitty day that day. Probably something with his parents. He’d retreated to your house where you were home alone, seeking your loving comfort and warm hold. You started making dinner for the two of you (his favorite, pasta), and Starman started playing.

He never thought you looked more beautiful. The way you squealed when the song started, your soft voice singing along as the acoustic guitar and synth filled the room. Your body swayed, your arms in the air, your hips moving back and forth. You sang louder as the chorus swelled, a giggle in your voice when you saw the way he was looking at you. So loving.

“What are you lookin’ at?” you laughed.

He just pulled you closer, his hands finding your hips as he leaned back against the counter. His chest pressed to yours, his nose buried in your hair. He inhaled before murmuring, “Just love you. You’re so beautiful.”

You chuckled and pulled back to look up at him, a soft smile on your face, a twinkle in your eyes. “I love you too, Stevie.”

The dinner almost burnt from how long you guys stood there, breathing each other in and swaying to the music.

“Steve?” Jonathan’s voice snaps him out of it. His hand finds Steve’s shoulder. “Hey, are you good? Do you need me to take you home?”

Steve looks away, blinking back tears that he didn’t even realize were there. He mutters a ‘no, I'm good’ before shuffling away. As he’s trying to escape the song, the feeling, the noise, the thought of you, he runs into some guy’s chest. The guy is bigger than Steve, more muscular, making Steve’s frame look almost frail.

“Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole!” the man shouts. Steve slurs an apology, barely audible over the music, just desperate to get out. “Hey! I’m fuckin’ talkin’ to you.”

Jonathan rushes over to Steve, turning to the large man. “Okay, let’s relax. I’m sorry about him, he’s just super drunk.”

“Like I give a fuck if he’s drunk, fag. Tell him to come here and fuckin’ apologize!”

Steve freezes. He turns around, red clouding his vision as he charges at the man.

Next thing he knows, he’s lying on the wet pavement outside, coughing up blood and phlegm, curling into himself in pain. Jonathan sits next to him, a bruise on his face from trying to break up the fight.

“Thanks for defending me, man,” Jonathan says gently. “Even if you got your ass beat.”

Steve chuckles dryly. Even the small movement hurts. “It’s nothin’,” he slurs. “Felt good to get those punches in. Needed that.”

“Even though it was very few punches?” Jonathan mocks. Steve lets out a fake laugh, slowly rolling over on the pavement. The light moment crashes when he hears a familiar voice.

“Holy shit, Steve?”

It’s you. His bleary eyes look up to see you leaning over him. For a moment, he thinks he must be dreaming. Or maybe having a nightmare. He groans and closes his eyes. “Fuckkkk.”

“Hi,” Jonathan says gently to get your attention. “He’s okay. He was defending me. We’re, uh… waiting on Nancy to come pick us up.”

“Fuck that, look at him!” you shout, angrily gesturing to a weary Steve. “I’m taking him home with me. As much as I really don’t want to, I can’t just leave him here knowing he might have brain damage or something. I studied nursing, so I'm going to check him out.”

Jonathan raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, I’m not stopping you. He’s a mess, though, just a warning.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Steve starts to sober up once he’s on your couch with some frozen peas pressed to a bump on his head. He’s eaten, had some water. It finally starts to hit him that he’s back at your house. Like nothing ever changed.

You reenter the room, changed out of your dress and into a tank top and sweatpants. You drop the first aid kit on the table. “Alright. This might suck, but I need you to stay still, yeah?”

Then you straddle him. He groans softly, partially in pain, partially in pleasure. “Fuck… yeah. Fine.” When you press the antiseptic-soaked cotton to a cut, he winces and whimpers.

“Don’t be a baby,” you gently scold, but doing so with a smirk on your face. He pouts. It almost makes you laugh, but you stop yourself.

You can’t help but stare at his face while you clean his wounds. Even beaten, he still looks as beautiful as ever. It pisses you off. His dark puppy dog eyes look up at you, a slight frown on his pouty, busted lips, his hands flexing on your hips. 

He leans in a bit.

You quickly stand, packing the first aid kit once again. “All done,” you mutter, turning away.

“Oh,” Steve says. “That was fast.”

“Well, it’s mostly bruises, not really cuts. I’ll get you an ice pack in a second.”

You turn on a flashlight and shine it in his eyes. He flinches away. “Oh, what the fuck?!” You gently pull his eyes open. His pupils dilate.

“I’m making sure you’re not concussed, idiot. Relax, it’s not that bad.” Once you turn off the flashlight, he rubs his eyes dramatically, huffing like a child. You roll your own eyes and tuck the first aid kit away in the kitchen.

Then you sit next to him awkwardly. “You alright?” you whisper. “What even happened?”

“Ran into some asshole,” Steve mutters. “Then he called Jon a… whatever. I just swung.”

“You were drunk.” You hesitantly take his hand in yours. Why are you doing that? He turns to you, a soft, dopey smile on his face. God, you missed that smile. 

“You should maybe just stay the night,” you continue. “It’s late. I don’t wanna drive you home.”

Steve tenses a bit, but forces himself to relax. “Okay. Sure. I’ll take the couch.”

Oh, this couch.

Early in the relationship, during the honeymoon phase, you guys couldn’t get your hands off each other. He remembers one specific time you both lay naked on this couch after sex. 

You were lying on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, tracing his freckles with your fingertip. His hand was tangled in your hair, the soft strands between his fingers, gently rubbing your scalp. He kissed the top of your head and murmured “I love you” for the first time.

The way you looked up at him shattered his heart.

Your eyes were so big and rapidly filling with tears. You sniffled, almost pathetically. “Really?”

He frowned at the sight of you. “Yeah,” he said softly.

You cried into his chest, overwhelmed. He just held you close and whispered sweet nothings into your ear until your sobs subsided and you whispered back, “I love you too.”

Steve lies on the couch slowly, staring up at your ceiling. You’re upstairs right now, and he’s down here, not that far away. He should be storming up there, begging for you. But he’s too tired to move.

To his surprise, you come downstairs.

“Uh…” you hesitate, shifting on your feet like you don’t know what to do with yourself. “Need anything?”

He shrugs, tucking his arms behind his head. “No, I’m good.”

You nod awkwardly. “Cool.”

You both stare at each other for a little too long, just quietly admiring. “Hey,” he murmurs, “thanks for taking care of me. Even though I’ve kinda been an asshole.”

Your breath hitches. “It’s fine,” you say, your voice quiet. “It’s, um… it’s good to see you, y’know? I worry about you.”

“I’m fine, baby.”

“Are you?”

You go quiet again. Your body tenses when you realize he just fucking called you baby.

“Are you?” Steve repeats. He slowly gets up, meeting you where you’re standing. “I shouldn’t have left,” he quietly admits. “Not after what happened. Not after you almost…”

Tears fill your eyes, but you blink them away. “I know I said it was mutual, but I didn’t want it, Steve.” You blink again, but they just fall. He steps closer. “I– I just thought it would be easier if… I dunno, I just–... I didn’t want it. It hurt.”

“I know,” he murmurs, leaning in a bit.

You hiccup a sob, “I hate you.”

“I know.”

You melt into him the moment your lips meet. It’s soft, tentative, but with a deep inhale from him, he pulls you impossibly closer, kissing you even deeper. His hands find your face, gently cupping your cheeks in contrast to the way he’s basically devouring you.

You taste just like he remembers, but with a hint of salt from your tears.

He tastes just like you remember, a sweet mintiness but with a hint of smoke now. Did he start smoking again?

You pull back for a minute, but your lips don’t stop touching. “I hate you,” you whisper again.

“I love you too, baby.”

He picks you up and you welcome him with open arms as your lips find his once again. Soon, he gently lies you on your bed, crawling over you until his forearms are resting on either side of your head. “Is this okay?” he murmurs.

You chuckle. “More than okay.”

His kisses are softer now. He takes his time to breathe you in, kissing down your face to your neck to your collarbone. He tugs at your tank top, looking up at you in silent question. You hesitantly nod. So he goes slow.

You’re different.

Your skin isn’t the perfect, soft, smooth skin he felt before. Your lower abdomen now has jagged scars running along it from that night. He gasps softly, running his hand over the tissue. You jerk under his touch.

When he looks up at you again, you’re crying. He frowns. He knows words can’t help anymore, so he instead opts to just kiss down your torso slowly, worshipping every inch of you, before kissing the uneven healed skin. You gasp, a whimper spilling from your lips.

“Still so beautiful,” he says against your skin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to fix this.”

You let him pull down your sweatpants. Your light blue panties are damp at the center of the cotton. He decides to neglect it for now, instead kissing at your inner thighs while he hooks them over his shoulders. 

“Steve,” you whine, squirming under him. 

He gently shushes you before mouthing at your clothed cunt. You cry out softly with a slight sniffle from your tears. It’s not long before he pulls away your panties and licks a stripe up your folds.

Your hands find his perfect hair, guiding him into you (as if he needs it). His big hands grip your soft thighs as he slowly fucks you with his tongue, his nose nudging at your puffy clit.

“Baby,” you moan, drawing a whimper from him that runs right through you. You tug at his hair and he reluctantly pulls back, looking up at you. 

God, he’s beautiful.

His chocolate hair is tousled, your slick dripping down his chin and wetting his lips, his big brown eyes looking up at you in anticipation.

“I love this, honey, but I need you inside me,” you say breathlessly.

He curses before crawling over you again, removing his own shirt. He has scars of his own from over the years, the newest ones on his abdomen and around his neck. You softly kiss the one circling the base of his neck and he hums.

“Are you sure about this baby?” he whispers as he pulls down his jeans.

“I’m very sure.”

“Still hate me?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s change that, yeah?” He guides himself to your entrance. “Big stretch, baby.”

He slowly pushes in his tip and you gasp, already feeling full. You forgot just how huge he is. You bury your face into his neck, clenching and whining.

He groans. “Fuck, honey– so tight, baby, I can barely push in.” His fingers find your clit and you sob a moan. “Breathe, hun. Just open up for me.”

You begin to relax and he pushes the rest of the way in, groans punched out of both of you when he bottoms out. He moves in and out, slowly at first, but you both get too desperate.

You can feel every single ridge and vein of his cock against your walls. You cry and scratch at his back while he nuzzles into your neck. “So good, baby, fuck, you’re so tight.” 

Steve whimpers, causing you to clench around his length even tighter. You both gasp in response. “So perfect for me,” he mutters, looking down to see where you both meet. “Oh, look at her. Just weeping around me. You needed this, huh? Needed someone to fuck you this good?”

Your eyes roll back. You can’t even say anything in response as you babble out nonsensical moans. He chuckles but whines again. 

He hooks your ankles over his shoulders, driving deeper into you and slowing his pace. You sob and he kisses your forehead. “Shh… I got you. I love you.”

Your fingers grasp onto his hair again. “I love you,” you gasp through your tears. “I need you. Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t. Cum for me.”

You cry hard as you let go, warmth blooming beneath your skin, your vision going white. You feel like a heavy blanket has been draped over you, holding you tight. 

When you come to again, your chest heaving, he’s spilling inside you with a soft cry of your name. You groan at the feeling of his burst into you.

Once he collapses on top of you, you hold him close, more tears falling while he kisses your sweaty, sticky skin.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers. “I should’ve been there. Should’ve never suggested leaving you, not after what happened, not after you were… fuck, you were bleeding out on that ground and I thought it’d be better if you had some space after it all. I’m an idiot.”

“You are an idiot. Sometimes. Especially then.” You press your lips to the top of his head. Not quite a kiss, just a touch. “But I forgive you. Just come back to me, Stevie.”

Steve looks up, tears in his own eyes.

“I’m here. I’m back. I’m yours.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

you break apart for a moment to kiss down his beautiful neck. he tries to speak through his heavy breaths. "f-fuck- baby, please, just lemme fuck you, i can't..."

you smile against the hot skin of his neck, gently nibbling at the skin there before you tug down his boxers. he sighs at the release of his thick cock, pulling your panties aside with his long fingers so you can sink down.

you position yourself over him, his fat tip nudging at your entrance. a wet sound fills the room as you slowly, slowly sink down onto his cock, whimpering at how fucking big he is. he grasps at your hips, his eyes rolling back.

"god- shit, honey, so warm... fuck."

a moan is punched from your chest when he bottoms out, his cock feeling like it could reach your throat. you lean over him for a moment, adjusting to the stinging stretch while he wraps his arms around you.

"you okay?" he murmurs into your ear.

you nod and hum a confirmation, giving a slow, experimental roll of your hips. he hisses, gently pushing you back to look at your face.

"you look so pretty like this," he whispers, brushing hair out of your face. "cmon, now. ride me, baby."

so you do.

you ride him slow, just how he likes it when he wants to decompress. your hips move up and down slowly, gently bouncing on him, his tip nudging at your cervix with each thrust. he meets your hips with shallow bucks, groaning at the sound of your slick sliding against his cock.

he keeps his eyes on where he continues to disappear inside you, on where that white, creamy ring is forming around his base. he pulls you down into a deep kiss - not exactly rough, but not exactly gentle.

you moan into his mouth, moving faster. "mm- oh, steve, fuck, m'so full."

"yeah?" he practically whines, his hands guiding your hips to move faster. "you like being stuffed full of me, huh, baby?"

you nod, biting your lip to hold back your noises from becoming too loud. he leans up, kissing across your chest as he squeezes one of your breasts. "you take such good care of me," he mutters. "i come home all pissy and you- hah, fuck- you just take such good care of me, no questions asked."

his hips are moving up into yours faster now, the hand on your breast moving to rub your clit, so gently, in the smallest circles.

the sensation causes your thighs to tremble around his hips. "stevie, m'gonna-"

"i know, baby, i know." he moans when you clench around him. "you got this, honey, just let it happen."

your vision goes white when you cum around his cock, trembling as you whine into his neck and weakly move your hips. your walls flutter around him, your lips brush against his neck, your nails rake down his chest, and suddenly, it's all too much for him.

"oh, fuck-" he groans, and he's cumming inside of you before he knows it.

you jolt at the unknown feeling of his warmth filling you to the brim, but he keeps you held close. somehow... you're not exactly mad.

he slowly comes back down, his chest heaving, his lips kissing all over your face. then the clarity hits.

"oh my god, holy fuck- oh, i'm so sorry, honey, shit!"

he quickly pulls you off him and you whine at the sudden emptiness. he looks between your legs, trying to ignore how the sight of his cum dripping out of you gets him hard all over again.

"i'm so sorry, baby. let me clean you up, and we'll get you a morning after pill, yeah?"

he stumbles when he stands, trying to tug his boxers back on. you laugh when he falls onto the floor.

"stevie, hey. it's fine. i'm on the pill, you know that."

"but-" he stammers, scrambling to get back on his feet to look at you. "but you didn't give me permission to do that."

"it's fine, baby. obviously, warn me next time, but i'm not mad at all. honestly... it was hot."

his face flushes. he stares up at you with those big eyes of his that melt you. "yeah?"

"yeah," you whisper, brushing back the hair that sticks to his forehead with sweat. "i'd let you do it again."

he crawls over you again, kissing your lips.

"can i do it again right now?" he murmurs.

you giggle, swatting at his chest. "what happened to being apologetic?"

"you said it was okay!" he retorts, kissing down your neck.

that night, he didn't stop filling you to the brim until you were both spent.

You weren’t a virgin. You’d done some stuff before, but nothing insane. Something that didn’t help was how insecure you are.

When Steve – King Steve “The Hair” Harrington – first showed interest in you, you were beside yourself. Why would the hottest guy in Hawkins feel anything towards a girl like you?

But Steve knew you were beautiful. Everyone knew you were beautiful, except for you. And you knew he wanted you so bad, as much as he (poorly) tried to hide it.

“Just wanna touch you, baby,” he slurs, kissing at your neck. “Won’t pressure you, but… you’re beautiful. I just wanna taste you.”

You can’t deny the way that his words, his voice, send heat straight down to your core. God, you want him so bad, too. But if he sees you in full, if he sees more than just your face, will he still find you beautiful?

You squirm under him, huffing a laugh, weakly pushing at his shoulders. “Stevie… baby, I dunno. I’m not the prettiest… down there.”

He pulls back, looking at you like you just turned into a dog. His brows were pulled taut in that way that made you swoon. “What do you mean, honey?” he murmurs, cupping your face in his hands. “How would you know, hm?” He kisses at your collar, then at your sternum through your shirt.

You run your fingers through his hair, your breathing getting heavier and heavier. He kneels between your legs. “I’ll be the judge of that, baby. That okay?”

You whine. “I dunno…”

He kisses your thighs. “That’s alright, honey. But I wanna make you feel good. Do you trust me to make you feel good?”

Your face goes red. But you manage a nod.

“Words, sweet girl.” Steve presses a kiss to your bare thigh below your shorts.

“Yes, I trust you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he grins, slowly pulling down your shorts. You tense up, your fingers tightening in his hair. He chuckles. “Relax, baby. I’m leaving your panties on, okay?”

He kisses above your panties first, right on your navel. You whimper and feel him smirk against your hot skin.

He slowly kisses lower. And lower. Then he’s hooking your thighs over his shoulders and pressing a featherlight kiss to your clothed clit.

A gasp is ripped from you. Your fingers tighten in his hair again, your nails in his scalp. The sudden, barely-there pleasure shoots up through you like shocks. “Oh, f– fuck,” you breathe. 

He licks up your clothed slit, drenching the fabric even further than your wetness already had. You whine, tugging at his hair even more, causing him to groan into you. A shudder runs through your body, up your chest and out to your fingertips.

Steve hums into you, hooking his hands around your thighs and pulling you closer to his face. He buries his nose and mouth into your pussy as your back arches off of his silk sheets. “Feel good?” he mumbles.

You nod. Your thighs tighten around his head, basically suffocating him, and his eyes just roll back. He pulls back to admire his work.

Your cotton panties are see-through now, every part of you visible. The sopping fabric sticks to your folds and he lightly blows on it. You yelp and squirm in response to the cold air.

He kneads his fingers into your thighs to soothe you. “Shh, babygirl. I got you, don’t worry.”

He dives back in with even more desperation than before. You cry out, trembling under him, tugging at his hair. Your eyes travel to his hips, hopelessly grinding into the mattress while he whimpers into you.

Your abdomen begins to tighten. Your thighs start to shake. He rubs your hips, mumbling nonsense into your heat, gently coaxing you to break.

So you do.

You babble moans, gasping his name, bucking up into his mouth. Steve guides you through it oh so carefully, pulling back when you collapse so you don’t get overstimulated. He presses tender kisses to your soft tummy while your chest heaves. 

“You okay? Was that good?” his honey-like voice mutters.

You weakly pull him up to your face, brushing a kiss against his lips. “Thank you,” you whisper.

A smile spreads across his face. Not smug or sarcastic like usual, just genuine. He presses his lips to your forehead. “Of course, pretty girl. Of course.”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

࿔ he starts by asking small questions. “so where you from?” when you give a one word answer, he goes on a mini tangent about how he was there once and “yeah, i dunno, it was kinda shitty. not that your hometown is shitty. uh— fuck. sorry. i just meant it was a bit of a dump. i guess thats not much better.”

࿔ “so… why’d you choose to work here?” “it pays, i guess.” “yeah, i feel that. i’d quit if i could. our boss is a fucking creep, yknow. but i’m sure you already know that— yknow, i had this customer the other day, real big guy with a shit ton’a tattoos and—” blah blah blah.

࿔ when conversing fails since you don’t say more than three words a shift and he says the amount of a novel, he decides to take another approach.

࿔ he starts to tell you more personal things. why he went to prison, how he got the nickname “teacake,” why he has his tattoos, what his mother was like.

࿔ his gentle, boyish honesty gets you to open up more. one moment he’s just annoyingly loquacious, but the next you’re having deep conversations with him, which is what you really value.

࿔ he realizes how much he really likes you once you open up. and you realize how charming and endearing his puppy-like behavior is.

a/n: tysm again for requesting! i think these two r so cute and id deffo write more about them :)

࿔ he says anything that comes to mind. he'll be pounding into you from behind, hands gripping your hips, murmuring just loud enough for you to hear, "so tight around me. you think you'll actually squeeze me out one day? you might, yknow. i could see you doin' that."

࿔ when he's deepest with your legs on his shoulders and a bulge in your abdomen from his tip, he chuckles. "can you feel me that deep? what if i'm actually in your tummy? that'd be crazy. is that even possible?"

࿔ you're so fucked out you can barely respond. he keeps hitting that one spot in you that has stars blooming behind your eyes and your walls clenching around him. you just moan his name to acknowledge him, since he hates to feel ignored.

࿔ whenever you're in charge, you have to find ways to shut him up so you can focus.

࿔ you're on top, slowly riding him, grinding your clit against his skin with every languid roll of your hips. his fingers flex at your waist before they move to your breasts, then your face, then back down. he never quite seems to relax.

࿔ at one particularly pleasuring bounce, he whimpers and says, "god, baby- shit, you're so beautiful. can't stop thinkin' about you. i know i'm literally inside you, so obviously i can't stop thinkin' about you, but fuck, i just-"

࿔ you shove two fingers in his mouth to shut him up. it works, his eyes rolling back as he sucks and moans around the digits.

࿔ all in all, it's cute. he's your travis. and you're his. his love just comes out in words. a lot of words.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

࿔ it switches from being in a closet, to in the break room, to stolen kisses just out in the open. it's not like your shitty boss, griffin, is ever there anyway.

࿔ he is for sure just sooo touchy. his hands would be everywhere. holding your face, tangled in your hair, on your waist, your hips, cupping your ass.

࿔ don't even get me started on the sounds he makes! this man whimpers don't test me. have you seen him.

࿔ "fuck, baby, needed this bad," he'd murmur before devouring you. his tongue would tangle in yours, pinning you against the wall, inhaling you as he kisses you. "shit, so fuckin' pretty."

࿔ of course, between kisses, he'd try to talk and talk and talk, but you'd just shut him up with another kiss. at the feeling of your lips against his, he'd just melt all over again and immediately forget what he's saying.

࿔ you've definitely made out for way too long one time and didn't even realize the bell repeatedly ringing at the front desk. mrs. rooney was not happy when you two stumbled out of the break room, travis repeatedly apologizing and walking her to the elevator as if his shirt wasn't unbuttoned, as if his hair wasn't tousled, as if his lips weren't kiss-bitten.

࿔ travis is beyond down bad for you. he can't stand taking one look at you without pulling you aside and having his lips find yours.