⋆˚✿˖° pairing: Steve Harrington x fem! reader
⋆˚✿˖° summary: your boyfriend was a gorgeous man- everyone knew it. but what you didn't know was that he looks even more gorgeous with a moustache on, and you ought to show him that.
⋆˚✿˖° warnings: porn with very less plot, smut, reader is down bad for steve's moustache, a little fluff, unprotected sex (cuz I be just like that), Cunnilingus, fingering little fluff, idk pretty much it.
⋆˚✿˖° Author's note: credits to @angeliicide for this beautiful divider <33. I just saw a post of joe in chile and his moustache look is back and since I am ovulating I am acting like a fucking horndog and writing fanfics on fanfics, so here is one inspired by his new look.
Steve had been weirdly secretive about his face for the past week. He'd dodge mirrors when you were around, tilt his head away during kisses, mumble something about "letting it grow a little" whenever you asked why he hadn't shaved. You figured it was another one of his dumb bets with Robin or maybe just laziness after long shifts at the garage. Either way, you didn't push. He looked good and scruffy. Always did.
Then Friday evening rolled around. You were sprawled on his couch in the empty Harrington house, flipping through a magazine while he finished up in the bathroom after work. Grease still lingered under his nails, hair damp from the quick shower he'd taken to wash off the day. The door opened and he stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, chest bare, looking like he knew exactly what reaction he was about to get.
Your magazine hit the floor.
The mustache was there. Full, dark, neatly shaped but thick enough to look intentional. Not patchy like you'd half-expected from a guy who'd never committed to facial hair before. It framed his upper lip perfectly, made his smirk look sharper, more dangerous in that effortless Steve way. The kind of mustache that belonged on a Tom Selleck poster or a 70s cop show lead. Not on your sweet, occasionally awkward boyfriend who still blushed when you told him he was pretty.
He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious under your stare. "So. Yeah. This happened."
You sat up slowly. Your mouth felt dry. Heat pooled low in your belly so fast it almost made you dizzy. "When did you decide on... that?"
"Last weekend. Robin said I couldn't pull it off. Twenty bucks if I shaved by Monday." He shrugged, trying for casual, but his eyes were locked on yours like he was waiting for judgment. "Figured I'd see it through. Surprise."
You stood up and crossed the living room in three steps. Your fingers reached out before you could think better of it, brushing over the coarse hair. It was softer than it looked up close, warm from his skin. Steve's breath caught when your thumb traced the curve above his lip.
"You hate it," he said quietly.
"No." Your voice came out huskier than you meant. "I really, really don't."
His eyebrows lifted. "Yeah?"
You nodded, sliding your hand to cup his jaw so you could feel the new texture against your palm. Then you leaned in and kissed him.
The first press of mustache to your lips was a shock of sensation. A light rasp, not painful, just enough friction to make every nerve light up. You made a small, involuntary sound into his mouth and felt him smile against you. He kissed back harder, tongue slipping past your lips, tasting faintly of mint toothpaste and the coffee he'd had earlier. The mustache dragged along your top lip with every tilt of his head, every slow slide of his tongue. It was distracting in the best way. Addictive.
When you pulled back to breathe, your cheeks were flushed. "Bedroom. Now."
Steve laughed, low and pleased. "Bossy tonight."
He scooped you up without warning, hands under your thighs, carrying you down the hall like it weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist, kissing along his jaw, deliberately letting your lips catch on the new hair. He groaned when you nipped just under his ear.
"Keep doing that and we're not making it to the bed."
He kicked the bedroom door shut behind him and dropped you gently onto the mattress. You bounced once, already tugging at the hem of your tank top. Steve watched for a second, eyes dark, then climbed over you, towel still somehow clinging to his hips. He peeled your top off, bra following a heartbeat later. His mouth found your neck immediately, open kisses turning into sucks that would definitely leave marks. The mustache scraped lightly over your collarbone and you arched, fingers digging into his shoulders.
"God," you breathed. "That feels..."
"Good?" He sounded smug. His lips moved lower, kissing a slow path to your chest. When he closed his mouth around one nipple, the contrast hit hard: wet heat of his tongue versus the rough drag of hair framing it. You gasped, back bowing off the bed. He hummed in approval, switching sides, giving the same attention while his hand slid down your stomach, popping the button on your shorts.
You lifted your hips to help him drag them off along with your underwear. Cool air hit your skin and then his fingers were there, sliding through your folds, finding you already slick. He groaned against your breast.
"Jesus. All this from a little facial hair?"
"Shut up and keep going."
He chuckled, but he listened. Two fingers pushed inside you slowly, curling just right while his thumb circled your clit. His mouth stayed busy, kissing down your ribs, your stomach, the sensitive skin beside your hip. Every time his face brushed your inner thigh the mustache rasped over soft skin and you jolted.
When he finally settled between your legs, hooking your thighs over his shoulders, you were trembling. He looked up at you through his lashes, lips shiny, mustache glistening faintly from earlier kisses.
"Tell me if it's too much," he said, voice rough.
He dragged his tongue up your slit in one long, slow stroke. Then he focused on your clit, sealing his lips around it and sucking gently. The mustache pressed flush against you now, coarse hairs dragging with every tiny movement of his jaw. It was overwhelming. The suction was perfect, wet and warm, but the constant scrape added this edge that made your toes curl. You threaded your fingers through his hair, holding him there, hips rocking instinctively.
Steve moaned into you like he was the one getting off. The vibration shot straight through your core. He licked faster, firmer, mustache rubbing in tight circles that matched his tongue. Your thighs started shaking. Pressure built so fast you could barely breathe.
"Steve, I'm- fuck, don't stop."
He didn't. He pinned your hips down with one arm and doubled down, sucking hard while his tongue fluttered. The mustache dragged relentlessly over swollen, sensitive skin. You came with a sharp cry, whole body tensing, pulsing around nothing while he worked you through every wave. He kept going until you whimpered from overstimulation, thighs clamping around his ears.
When he pulled back his lips were red and wet, mustache dark with your arousal. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning like he'd won something.
You grabbed his shoulders and yanked him up. "Get inside me. Right now."
He didn't need convincing. The towel finally fell away and he reached for the nightstand drawer, grabbing a condom. You watched him roll it on, thick and hard, tip already leaking. Then he was back between your legs, guiding himself to your entrance.
He pushed in slow at first, letting you feel every inch. You both groaned when he bottomed out, hips flush against yours. He stayed still for a second, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.
"You feel so good," he murmured. "Every time."
You clenched around him on purpose. "Move."
He did. Long, deep thrusts that rocked the headboard against the wall. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. His mouth found yours again and the mustache dragged over your lips, your cheek, the corner of your jaw. You chased the sensation, turning your head so it rasped along your throat while he fucked into you steadily.
Steve shifted his angle, snapping his hips faster. Skin slapped skin. The bed creaked under you. Sweat slicked your bodies where they met. You dragged your nails down his back, hard enough to leave red lines. He hissed in pleasure, pace faltering for a second before he drove in even deeper.
You could feel it building again, that tight coil low in your belly. "Touch me."
His hand slid between you, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles. The combination was brutal: his cock hitting that spot inside, fingers on your clit, mustache scraping your neck every time he kissed or bit down. You shattered a second time, louder this time, clenching so hard around him he cursed under his breath.
"Fuck, baby. Gonna come."
"Do it," you panted. "Inside. Want to feel you."
He buried himself deep, hips stuttering as he came with a broken groan, pulsing inside you. You held him there, legs locked around him, riding out the aftershocks together.
For a minute you just breathed, tangled and sweaty. Steve pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder, your collarbone, careful now that the urgency had passed. The mustache tickled softly, almost sweet after everything.
He finally rolled off, pulling you with him so you ended up sprawled across his chest. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back.
"So," he said after a while, voice still rough. "Verdict on the mustache?"
You lifted your head to look at him. His hair was a mess, lips swollen, that ridiculous perfect mustache still somehow intact.
You leaned down and kissed him slow, letting the hair drag one more time just because you could. "If you shave it before I'm done with it, we're breaking up."
He laughed, arms tightening around you. "Noted."
"Good." You settled back against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow. "Because I'm nowhere near done."
Steve pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "Plenty of time, sweetheart. All weekend."
You smiled into his skin. Yeah. All weekend sounded perfect.
I hope you guys loved reading this story and if you did, please like and reblog it. thank you so much for reading it ♡
