day two of the december writing challenge! today's word: blanket
1.5k of loverboy steve harrington needing to hear reader’s voice so he can cum. 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW
contents: steve harrington x reader, afab reader, needy!steve (like very whipped, desperate steve), phone sex, mutual masturbation, dirtyyy talk
You’ve been asleep for hours. The window is cracked slightly, moonlight painting the room chilled by cool winter air. Deep in dream land, a phone rings in the distance. Someone should get that, you think. It rings out again. You jolt awake, arm flying out from underneath your cozy blanket to yank the handset to your ear.
“Hello?” you whisper-yell into the phone, still slightly stunned.
“Hi, honey,” a voice rasps on the other line.
You relax slightly when you hear his voice. “Steve? Is everything alright?”
“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. Just missed you.”
You’re a state away on family vacation, and this is the longest you and Steve have ever been away from each other. Steve acted like the world was finally ending when you told him you wouldn’t be able to see him for five days. Four, really, because he insisted on coming over to help your parents pack up the car before heading out. You still think it was just a ruse to sneak one last kiss in the garage. He claimed he couldn’t help it — something about how his lips are practically magnetized to yours.
“Why are you awake?” you sigh sleepily.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Miss you,” he reiterates.
“I miss you too, but maybe you should try dreaming about me instead,” you suggest while stifling a yawn.
“I do a lot of that already,” he admits.
Your eyes flutter closed. “I’m flattered.”
“You wanna know something else?” he asks.
“Can it wait until the morning, Steve? I’m exhausted,” you reply somewhat petulantly.
“I’m gonna have to take care of it before then.”
You feel your brows furrow in confusion, mind still a bit foggy from your interrupted sleep. “What?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about you,” he repeats before dropping his voice, all gravelly through the receiver, “and you make me really hard.”
Slightly scandalized, a gasp escapes your lips involuntarily. You’re fully awake now and you’re on fire. A hot blush creeps down your neck and you have to swallow hard before attempting to speak.
“Steve,” you stammer out. You feel like you just got the wind knocked out of you. “Jesus.”
“Please? I need you so bad,” Steve begs. He sounds truly tortured.
“I promise I’ll take care of you when I’m home. Only two more sleeps,” you sympathize. It would only be one if he hadn’t woken you up.
“Can’t make it,” he pleads, voice cracking slightly. “I tried. Need to hear your voice.”
You bite your lip nervously. “I’m sharing a wall with my parents. We’re lucky that they didn’t wake up when you called,” you whisper.
Steve groans like a man deprived. By the way he’s acting, you would think it’s been weeks since he’d last gotten his rocks off. You know for a fact that it’s only been three days.
As your eyes adjust to the light, you see the faint glow of a nightlight shining out from behind the bathroom door. Your own lightbulb goes off as you realize how to solve your problem.
“One sec,” you pause.
“Hurry,” Steve pleads.
You swing your legs over the side of the bed to stand slowly, exposed skin immediately prickling in the cold air. Stretching the phone cord to its limits, you pad quietly to the bathroom and close the door as far as it will let you. The light hurts your eyes as they adjust from the dark.
“Okay, I’m hiding out in the bathroom. Hopefully no one can hear me.” You look around suspiciously, half expecting someone to come out from behind the corner. It’s still quiet except for the old radiator that hums in the other room.
“I’m really worked up, baby. It won’t take long,” he reasons, trying to soothe your nerves. You swear you can hear a belt unbuckle. “Been teasing myself all night.”
You feel yourself get hot again as your heart rate quickly spikes. A second heartbeat picks up between your legs, clit pulsing at your boyfriend’s words. Your legs press together on instinct, searching for some friction.
“You should touch yourself for me,” you encourage, like Steve needs permission. “What were you thinking about?”
Steve’s breathing picks up as he shoves a hand down his pants. “You. How good you are to me. How much I miss you. How sweet you taste,” he rambles on.
“Only one more day until you can have me,” you remind him. “I’m all yours.”
Lewd sounds hit your ear as Steve pumps himself, wrist working languidly up and down, big hand squeezing his twitching length. “Don’t stop,” he moans out.
A sudden wave of shyness washes over you but you press on, finding courage in the way the persistent schlick of him working his cock speeds up at your words.
“Wish you could fill me up right now,” you admit hazily. “You’re so big, Steve. Bet you’ll have to stretch me back out again before I can take you.” Your core clenches around nothing and aches for the way Steve’s cock pushes you to your limits.
“Oh, God,” Steve sputters, “fuck. I’m already close. You don’t know what you do to me.”
You wonder how long Steve had held out before finally biting the bullet and asking you for help. Steve insists that he used to have the stamina of a race horse. You, however, have turned him into a total goner. One long look and he’s ready to spill on the spot. He needs you like the air he breathes.
Your neglected pussy drools thinking about how pretty Steve must look right now. Laid out on the bed, eyes screwed shut, skin glistening, his big cock all flushed and leaking. The feeling is mutual – Steve turns you on in ways you didn’t know were possible. Without thinking, you’re swiftly pulling your ruined panties off and getting into the tub. The faucet turns on with a squeak, warm water splashing up your bare legs.
“Christ, honey,” Steve chokes out as he realizes what you’re doing.
You shrug. “I feel dirty.”
The water pressure isn’t great, but your clit is so swollen that a gentle breeze could make you come. Precariously, you shift your hips underneath the faucet, trying your best to mind the phone. Your body goes lax as the steady stream of water falls over your bud, head rolling back with pleasure.
“Tell me how it feels,” Steve pleads. On the other end of the line you can hear Steve’s own wet sounds, spitting into his hand before continuing to fuck his fist.
“Good,” you breathe out, “but nothing is as good as you.”
Steve whimpers and cries out at your dirty admission. He’s so vocal, pretty noises bubbling up in his throat and spilling out without warning. You’re envious of the way Steve can let you hear how good he feels while you struggle to stifle your own moans.
“Shit, sweetheart,” he whines, voice strained, “you’re saying all the right things.” Steve’s gritting out his words, a telltale sign that he’s almost there and desperate to come.
“Gonna make a mess, Stevie?” you whisper, twirling the phone cord with your finger in anticipation. “Let me hear it.”
That does him in. Steve tips right over the edge, the intensity of his orgasm quickly overtaking him. He sounds obscene, shamelessly panting into the phone as he rides out his high and milks his cock for all it’s worth.
With Steve’s noises encouraging you, your own orgasm pulls you under, blood turning white-hot and vision blurring. It takes everything in you not to drop the phone straight into the tub. Muffling your mouth with your free hand, you bite down into your palm to stop your moans from ringing out. You can hear Steve still coming hot and heavy, riding out every second of his pent up release.
As the shockwave subsides you quickly shut the water off, clit puffy and overstimulated. Your body shakes slightly in the aftermath of your orgasm, worn out from the unexpected exertion. Sleep suddenly pulls at you again. The phone cord won’t reach to let you lie back in the tub, so you settle for resting against the wall, limbs like jelly.
For a while there’s nothing but the respective sounds of the two of you trying to catch your breath. The water on your skin goes cold and you shiver, chilled to the bone. You force yourself to step out of the tub before wrapping yourself haphazardly in a bath towel.
“You’re gonna kill me one day,” Steve finally rasps out, still trying to catch his breath.
“I’d never,” you feign innocence.
“Don’t worry, I’ll die a happy man,” he says playfully. You can hear the smile in his words through the phone. He sounds positively fucked out, speech lazy and slowed by sleepiness. You’re sure his eyes are closed, basking in his post-orgasm bliss.
“Feel better?”
“The best,” he sighs, “thank you. I can’t wait to see you.”
You let out a yawn. “Likewise. Time will go by faster if we sleep,” you reason.
“So smart, baby,” Steve chuckles. “Go get some rest.”
You exchange sweet “I love you”s before the line goes dead with a click. Cautiously, you make your way back to your room, not wanting to blow your cover. Settling back into bed, the soundtrack of Steve’s moans still plays in your ears once your head finally hits the pillow.
a/n: took some liberties here bc i know that party phones were pretty inescapable in the 80s and the likelihood of reader having a private call telephone (search the ad from 1984 - that's the inspo!) that actually worked in their room on vacation is fanfic levels of low. also that it wouldn’t ring loud as hell in the dead of night and wake everybody up. i hope you still enjoyed walking with me……
i'm also on ao3 as honorschem if you prefer your fics there. divider by @firefly-graphics :)
thanks for all the love y'all have shown me so far! i'm having so much fun <3
Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗
vespera i love u i am on one knee proposing to u say the word and i'll leave jake etc etc etc (also rly funny bc. according to my ao3. i have 6 fics total LMAO) (afterwards note -- all of these except summer sun ended up being ao3 links OOPS)
drag path - what can be said about my babygirl that hasn't already been said... truly..... but it must be said again. if there's anything i've ever been truly proud of and felt so insanely rewarded for writing, it's drag path. i truly put my heart and soul into telling steve and mel's story and making it engaging and something that people want to both read critically but also have questions about!!! i want people to feel like they're seen by both steve and mel's stories, and most importantly, i want people to cry when they read chapter 17. i am a simple woman with simple needs and those needs are people crying at steve crying ykwim? (and yes yes i know everyone is 2 seconds away from prying custody of mel away from me i'm sorry)
in the summer sun!!!!!!!! - the fic i wrote feverishly for 12 hours straight. the fic that @cpnsteverogers texted me at 6am going "haha you should write single mom reader x steve smut" and i went "hahahhahaha hold my fucking beer kelsey" and neither of us could've predicted what it turned into. i'm just very very very in love with steve and reader and mia and i want nothing but the best for them. unfortunately i'm the one writing for them so...
in case of emergency - yeah this wasn't supposed to be a Thing with Plot and now it has Plot and it's getting reworked but i just think she's neat :)
like a moth to a flame - not very long, not very big, but very very special to me to get a look at steve's view of things. it feels very, very steve to have been orbiting someone for years on end and not quite understanding why. ft. baby steve!
all's fair in spin the bottle - just a little look at steve&max and steve&el dynamics and letting max and el be 13 year old girls for a brief moment in time. also very special to me, and i hope to write more steve being an older brother figure to max and el in the future <3
just the tip with steve but he’s so big even just the tip is too much 😩
UGGGHHHHJSJKNSAFKNDSK horsecock harrington you are seriously everything to me. and this information being canon is bad for my health (this entire blog is 18+ MDNI)
steve who is soooooo needy and worked up over you. he needs to just be inside you or he will literally die a dramatic death right now in front of you!!!
it's not like you don't want him. honestly, you're just as turned on as he is. steve's been all over you for the past thirty minutes - hands roaming everywhere, lips ghosting over your sweet spots, hips bucking up into yours while he squirms underneath you as you straddle him. you like when he gets like this - a little bit pathetic, composure thrown to the wind in favor of you making him feel good.
there's just one thing. something that never seems to get easier no matter how many times you do it, no matter how worked up you are over him.
steve is big. huge, even. so big that having sex with him feels like being split open (in the best way). it takes a lot out of you to fully take him, and you're not sure that you have it in you tonight. you're kinda tired and would rather steve make you cum on his tongue or with his fingers (which are also big, by the way).
but who are you to deny your sweet, attentive boyfriend who's whining your name so sweetly onto your skin?
"steve," you say shyly against his lips.
he moans out a little hhmmphh? in response while chasing you again, big nose knocking against your flushed cheek.
"just the tip tonight, okay? please?"
"okay, honey, yeah." steve nods in quick succession, hopping on board immediately. "whatever you want."
you take his cheeks between your palms and squish slightly. "will it still be good for you?"
steve nods again and leans in to brush the tip of his nose against yours. "you're always good for me."
his sweetness makes you sigh. you let him maneuver your hips up so he can slide your shorts down and pull his pulsing cock out. your mouth waters as you watch him tug himself once, twice, tip already flushed and leaking for you. you clench around nothing in anticipation, bracing yourself to feel the sweet stretch that you'll never fully get used to.
steve pulls you down closer and lines himself up at your entrance that's slick with arousal from his earlier ministrations. the head of his dick knocks into your clit, making you both moan.
"ready?" steve breathes out, forehead resting against yours.
you swallow and squeeze at his shoulders. you hope it reads as a reassuring gesture, but it's really more for you to steady yourself. "uh huh," you respond.
steve lets out a shaky breath as he pushes the tip of his dick into your entrance, feeling your velvet walls envelope him immediately. he's a total goner, a choked, wet moan escaping his lips when he feels you clench around the sensitive bulb that threatens to burst as you continue to suck him in.
you squeeze his shoulders again, nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. "steve," you whimper.
"you alright?" steve turns his head to press a sweet kiss to your hairline. "you okay?"
you clench your teeth and nod, hot breath fanning across his face as you attempt to steady yourself. "you're so big. can never get used to you," you admit with another moan.
steve's head falls from yours to rest heavily on the back of the couch, eyes rolling into the back of his head at your praise. "gonna stay right here, okay? god, you make me feel so fucking good."
now it's your turn to react to his praise, clenching around him in a way that makes steve call on every ounce of self control he has so he doesn't buck his hips further up into the warmth of your cunt.
steve doesn't need much to cum when he gets like this, and you know just what he likes. you revel in the way he whines into your mouth when you move one hand underneath his shirt to smooth it over his chest, fingers raking through the patch of hair there. thankfully steve has a good grip on you so you can bring your other hand down to wrap it around his cock, squeezing it around him in time with your pussy that's practically pulsing for him. when you feel him twitch inside you, you dip lower to roll his balls over your palm.
there's a feeling of emptiness when he slides out of you to finish into his fist, making a mess all over his stomach as he repeats your name like a mantra. seeing him get off on so little kind of makes you feel like a sex god, the satisfaction going straight to your clit that pulses with need as you watch steve unravel beneath you. when he finally comes down, he's quick to return the favor, sliding out from under you to settle between your legs, pulling you into him down the couch cushions. he wastes no time replacing the fullness you felt from his tip with his skilled tongue until you come undone, now fully drained of energy and ready for a good night's sleep in sweet stevie's arms <3
how about stevie with an inexperienced reader and he teaches her how to blow him, basically talking her through how he likes it (i need him so bad.)
thank you so much!!! i have fun posting whatever these are lol and i'm glad you're here <3
this is..... so so personal to me. i hope everyone finds a partner/fuck buddy who's willing to do this with them because WOOF
learn the ropes (18+)
pairing: steve harrington x afab!reader
contents: 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW!!! established relationship, reader is sexually inexperienced, loverboy steve being the sweetest most patient boyfriend of all time, making out, reader's first blowjob, steve being super encouraging and talking reader through it <3, steve cums quick bc he's whipped
wc: 2.5k (brevity has never been my strong suit)
ao3. divider by @dividers-are-us
Steve Harrington has proven himself to be the sweetest, most generous lover in the whole wide world who is entirely too focused on you and making you feel good to ask you to reciprocate. You had a heart to heart about your inexperience early on in your relationship, and Steve’s reassurance made you want to soar rather than shy away from all the things you haven't tried. He’s given you the confidence to explore, letting you take the reins and call the shots. Steve centers your pleasure above all else—he thinks it’s a shame that you’ve gone this long without someone making you feel so good.
Even though you always come first (literally), Steve doesn’t deny the fact that you make him so hard. At first he would just take care of it himself, waiting until you were satisfied before taking a break to get himself off in the bathroom. There were a few times that he sheepishly admitted he had already finished while he was hard at work making you cum, which just made you gush for him all over again because what do you mean your boyfriend gets that turned on by your own pleasure?
As you got bolder you tried different things to help him get off: asking him to show you how he likes to touch himself while you watched with your own hand between your legs, swiveling your hips over his clothed cock until he made a mess, finally wrapping your dainty hand around his big dick and stroking him the way he taught you.
But there’s still one thing you haven’t done. One thing that Steve says he doesn’t need, but something you crave so desperately it makes your mouth water and your thighs clench.
You’ve never taken him in your mouth. And if you have anything to say about it, that’s going to change tonight.
Steve currently has you on cloud nine, making you feel like you’re floating against the mountain of pillows propped up behind you. He hovers over you and invades all of your senses, a strong thigh slotted between both of yours while he kisses you silly, tongue pushing past the seam of your kiss bitten lips over and over again until you're moaning into his mouth. You can feel the way he smirks against your lips as your hips pitch forward against his thigh, chasing the friction your poor, neglected clit pulses for.
You can also feel his cock straining against the fabric of his briefs against your thigh, hard as a rock just from making out and kneading at your soft, exposed flesh in all his favorite places. It makes you sigh into his mouth, wetness pooling where you know Steve will inevitably make his way down to later.
“Stevie?” you breathe out, voice saccharine sweet as you look up at him like he hung the moon.
Steve stamps another kiss into the corner of your mouth before bringing a hand up to gently cup your flushed cheek. “Yeah, honey?”
You swallow before pushing your face into his hand. “I want you.”
He huffs out a small laugh, like he can’t believe you don’t see how you have him wrapped around your finger already. “You have me. Where do you want me?”
“No," you persist, shaking your head slightly. “I want you.”
There’s a moment where you can see the wheels turning in Steve’s brain before he speaks. “Like... like sex? Baby, I thought we would talk about it more first before you were ready to–”
“Steve," you say, cutting off his spiral. “We will. I want something else.”
Steve’s expression softens before he brings his forehead to yours. “I’ll give you anything you want.”
“Good," you sigh while twirling some of his hair between your fingers. “Because I really want to suck your dick.”
Steve’s breath audibly hitches in his throat, Adam's apple bobbing harshly as he chokes down a groan in self-restraint. “You don’t have to do that. I don’t expect you–”
You tug him forward into another kiss before pleading against his plush lips. “I know. I want to. I really want to give you a blowie, Stevie.”
Steve tilts his head back just enough so you can see the way his nose scrunches up, but his eyes are still playful and wide with lust. “Don’t say blowie.”
Your tongue swipes against your teeth teasingly. “Blow you?”
“... Better.”
You’re both giggling but you can feel how much your confession is affecting him, hard cock pressing more insistently into the bare flesh of your thigh and kicking up every so often.
Your hands smooth over his back and the freckled planes of his shoulders. “So,” you say shyly. “Will you let me?”
Steve lets out a sound that sends a spark straight to your clit before he lets his forehead fall heavily onto yours. “Are you sure?”
You pretend to look contemplative before you buck your hips up against the thigh still slotted between your legs. “As sure as I am about how much I love you. Which is pretty damn sure. But if I have to ask one more time..."
Steve takes a second to just look at you, really look at you, tongue swiping out over his swollen lips while he takes you in. “Alright,” he concedes while bringing one of your hands into his. “I love you.”
“I love you, too," you respond quickly. “So much. Will you show me what to do? What you like?”
Steve lets another desperate sound escape his throat. “Christ, you’re gonna fucking kill me. Yes, yeah. Of course. We’ll go slow, okay?”
Your lips lock in another sweet kiss before you're telling him to switch with you. He just said you'd go slow, but he practically scrambles to take his seat back against the headboard, thighs parted and jumping with anticipation as your hands land on top of them.
Feeling bold, you straddle him how you normally do, soaked cotton kissing the dark spot that’s started to bloom across the fabric of his briefs. “How should I start?”
Steve takes in a sharp breath, hands gripping onto you reflexively. “Maybe kiss me a little more first. Then kiss your way down there,” he proposes, fingers flexing against your hips. “You can’t miss it. Really worked up over you,” he practically whines.
It would come off as a joke if Steve’s voice wasn't so rocky with untamed desire. You expected yourself to feel nervous, but the confirmations he’s giving you that communicate how badly he wants you back cultivates the confidence you need to keep going.
You follow his instructions, licking into his mouth hotly and biting his bottom lip the way he likes. Your hands alternate between carding through the hair on his head and the hair on his chest, touch needy and earnest. When Steve’s moaning against your spit-slicked mouth you start kissing down his body, under his ear, across his neck and expanse of his chest, down, down, down across the trail of hair that leads you to where he’s hard and aching for you.
Your fingers glide across the waistband of his briefs, the fabric barrier keeping you from seeing the sight you’ve been waiting to admire all night. “Can I take these off now?”
Steve’s eyes roll back before squeezing shut. “Please. Yeah. Yes,” he chokes out in quick succession.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?” he grits out.
“Want you to watch me.”
His eyes fly open and zone in on you as you lean down and place a kiss below his navel. When you hook your fingers beneath the elastic, you swear you can see hearts flashing from his gaze.
“Jesus," he hisses. “Gonna cum too quick if I keep watching you.”
You shrug indifferently as you finally tug down his underwear. “I wanna make you cum, baby.”
Steve gasps and his cock twitches at your words as you pull him out. Passion pools deep within you as you watch his length bob up against his stomach, head flushed and tip wet with pearly precum.
“You have the prettiest fucking cock, Stevie. Can’t blame me for wanting you in my mouth,” you reason, eyes drinking in the sight of Steve's arousal before you.
A deep shade of crimson blooms across Steve’s already flushed cheeks before he’s pleading with you. “Please touch me.”
This part you’re more familiar with. The devil on your shoulder instructs you to spit messily into your palm before giving Steve’s dick a few tugs, fist squeezing around the base of his shaft where the pretty patch of coarse curls grows. Your thumb swipes over the beaded precum leaking from his slit and a smug smirk tugs at the corners of your lips as you watch Steve’s jaw drop to suck in a shaky breath.
Steve moans around an expletive and squirms in response to your touch. “Doesn’t seem like you need much help, honey.”
A dramatic pout twists onto your face. “We haven’t gotten to the fun part yet, Steve,” you remind him.
“Right,” Steve says tersely. “Better hurry or I’m gonna burst before you get to it. Really fuckin’ turned on over here.”
One of your hands curls around the meat of his thigh, fingertips dancing across the soft flesh teasingly. “You’re supposed to be telling me what you like, Steve.”
Steve stares at you like a deer in the headlights, mind already cloudy with lust. “I’ll like anything you do,” Steve responds, voice low. “But if you want, you can lick that stuff off my tip. It’s pretty sensitive.”
Given the rather blunt instruction, you don’t need to be told twice. The sheets rustle beneath you as you dip down between his legs to get eye level with his length, the sheer size of him making your mouth water in anticipation. You stifle a giggle when you see Steve’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you swirl your tongue messily around the tip of his dick. Some spit drips messily down his shaft for good measure.
“God, baby,” Steve groans before burying his bottom lip between his teeth.
You place a kiss directly onto the head of his cock before repeating the motion with your tongue from earlier. Steve’s head makes an audible thunk against the wooden headboard in response, causing you to stifle a giggle.
Steve’s chest heaves with an uneven breath. “Thought you wanted me to tell you what to do?” he asks incredulously. “Seems like you’re goin’ for it.”
“I do,” you shrug, “but I’m impatient.”
Steve stammers out an apology. “Hard for me to think straight with your mouth so close to my dick like that, sweetheart.”
“I thought for sure I’d be a bigger mess than you,” you laugh. Any ounce of nervousness has dissipated–watching Steve be so easy for you makes you feel like you can do anything.
A deep chuckle rumbles up from Steve’s chest. “You’re being pretty messy, just not like that.”
“Do you like it messy?”
Steve nods enthusiastically. “Uh huh.”
“What else do you like?” you insist, tongue moving down to flatten across his shaft. You pay extra attention to the pretty vein that runs down his impressive length.
“Um,” Steve thinks, composure cracking. “That. I like that a lot.”
You let out a noise of satisfaction. “Could do this all day.”
“Definitely wouldn’t last that long.”
Admiring your work, your gaze flits between Steve’s spit-slicked shaft and his tortured face. “Can I suck you off now?”
Steve lets out another groan. “So fuckin’ dirty. Don’t want you to hurt yourself though, okay? Don’t push it. Just go slow.”
Bracing yourself on either side of his thighs, you nod reassuringly before wrapping your lips around the tip of Steve’s dick. You hum in surprise as his cock kicks up in response.
“Hollow out your cheeks a little?” Steve hisses when he feels you tighten around him. “Fuck, yeah, just like that.”
You focus on his head for now, alternating between hollowing your cheeks and sloppily swirling your tongue around him, practically drooling as your jaw works to make room. The rest of his length looks lonely in comparison, so you tightly wrap a hand around what’s left to make up for it.
Steve’s body jerks against yours at the stimulation. “Jesus fucking christ,” he grits out. “Can take a little more if you want to.”
You do want to. Slowly, you sink down a little lower, taking more of him into your mouth and trying to remember to hollow your cheeks the way Steve told you. One of Steve’s big hands comes to rest on the back of your head, not pushing, just there. He doesn’t move when you come up to catch your breath.
“Is it good for you?” you ask Steve shyly.
“God, yes,” Steve confirms, fingers snaking their way into your hair. “You’re always good for me,” he sighs in that tone that makes you weak in the knees.
You blush at his compliment. “I aim to please,” you respond cheekily, trying to not show Steve how much his praise makes your heart swell with pride.
“You do. You are,” Steve insists. “If you wanna, you can play with my balls a bit. Like when you do that.” His voice is tinged with something just shy of embarrassed, the detailed instructions making him feel a little more exposed than if it was just his moans of pleasure bouncing off the walls.
You’re happy to oblige, palm rolling across the sensitive skin of his sac the way you usually do when you get him off. Testing your limits, you take him back in your mouth and venture further down this time until you’re on the threshold of gagging around him, breathing through your nose to try to keep yourself from losing it. Suddenly, Steve’s hips jerk involuntarily, making your eyes water.
“Shit, sweetheart, pull off,” Steve hisses with a sense of urgency. “You’re gonna make me fucking cum. Fuck, I’m cumming.”
You hum with surprise around him before doing as he says, a shiny string of spit breaking from your bottom lip. Within seconds Steve is unraveling before you, head thrown back against the pillows, neck veins protruding as pearlescent pleasure paints his stomach and spills down onto your fist that’s still wrapped around him. He practically shivers as he cums, muscles taut and overwhelmed by something fierce ripping through him. The whines and whimpers that tumble from his lips sound like music to your ears, staccato breaths punctuating choked rasps of your name and declarations of love.
Steve’s eyes find yours after he comes down, a little misty with pupils blown wide. After a beat he pulls you up his frame to kiss you as a silent thank you, chest slick with sweat and heaving too hard for him to speak. You happily swipe the salty tang of Steve’s taste across his tongue, wishing that you had more to share. Before you can think better of it, you pull away and bring your hand up to your mouth to lick the line of Steve’s spend dripping across your palm.
You make a show of swallowing what he gave you before expressing your continued craving in a low voice. “Next time I’m not pulling off.”
steve harrington x afab!reader
summary: what it says on the tin. you ask steve harrington to spit in your mouth.
contents: 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW!!! steve harrington x reader, afab reader, established relationship, making out, vague dry humping, spit kink, mutual consent, minor degradation vibes (bc of the spit kink yk)
wc: 1.1k
a/n: since y'all wanna kink shame..... this is me writing spit kink out of spite. this is the year of shaming kink shamers. scroll on by if you don't like it please and thank you <3
ao3. divider by @dividers-are-us
Sounds of quickened heartbeats and lips smacking flood your ears as Steve’s frame hovers above yours with practiced ease. He looks and feels like a sculpted statue, solid and sturdy. One of his legs is slotted between yours, providing some much-needed friction to your throbbing clit while his hands wander towards all the right places.
All of it is natural, lived in, comfortable. The two of you have done this dance together hundreds of times, each step memorized to the point of perfection. It’s as easy as waking up on a Sunday morning, or counting to ten, or breathing.
Despite this, you feel your mind wandering elsewhere as Steve’s tongue glides over yours repeatedly like you’re something he wants to devour. It’s not uncharted territory. You think about it whenever he kisses you this insistently, with this sort of reverence that suggests you hung the moon.
The pull is especially strong during these moments in particular, when Steve’s lips are so swollen he instinctively slicks them with saliva as soon as he pulls away. It’s a brief intermission for a breath–within seconds he’s kissing you again, his nose knocking into yours haphazardly. The next time he comes up for air, your thighs clench as you notice a string of spit connecting your mouths. The bond breaks as soon as Steve’s tongue darts out across his pillowy lower lip.
It’s all you can do but stare at him with hearts in your eyes, pupils blown and irises cloudy as you contemplate the sight above you.
“You look so pretty when you're lost in thought,” Steve admires out loud.
You hum absentmindedly at his compliment, an idea rolling and rattling around in your head. One that’s proving to be difficult to ignore.
Steve brushes some hair away from your face. “Wanna tell me what you’re thinkin’ about?”
“Do you think we could try something tonight?” you ask earnestly.
Steve hums a noise of encouragement in response. “Like what?”
“Iwantyoutospitinmymouth.”
Steve swallows in shock at your forwardness, a strangled noise escaping his throat before he finds his words. “You want me to what?”
You squirm under his gaze, shrinking into yourself. “Don’t make me say it again.”
“Sorry, pretty sure my brain just short circuited,” he says with a shake of his head. “I need you to tell me again. Please.”
A large hand reaches out to cup your face, the pad of Steve’s thumb swiping over your cheekbone gently in a reassuring motion. Nothing feels embarrassing with him anymore, yet the vulnerability of the moment still makes your cheeks burn. Maybe you should have kept this as an inside thought, but it’s too little too late now–the cat’s out of the bag and Steve’s patiently waiting for you to repeat yourself.
A shaky breath rattles out from deep within your chest as you summon up your courage. “I want you to spit in my mouth, Steve,” you assert with conviction.
Everything stops. Steve’s doe eyes flit over your face and study your body language carefully. They can’t miss the way you’re laying restlessly beneath him, hips pitching forward slightly against the muscle of his clothed thigh.
Steve eventually sucks in a breath through his parted plush lips. “That’s really dirty, baby.”
You blow some air out through your nose. “That’s why I want it,” you challenge, refusing to back down. “Want you.”
Now it’s Steve’s turn to be lost in thought, a crease forming between his eyebrows as they marry in the middle while considering your proposal. You reach up to smooth it out, your touch seeming to ground him as you watch the rise and fall of his chest even out.
Steve rests his forehead against yours. “You’re sure?”
“Steve,” you groan, growing impatient.
He presses a soft kiss to your temple. “I just haven’t really considered this before,” he admits, his usual bravado dimmed a smidge. “But I’ll give you anything you want, obviously.”
“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”
“No, I want to.” He shifts to press his pelvis against yours, the obvious bulge in his pants proving his point. “I want you.”
You card a hand through his hair. “Then kiss me like you mean it, Harrington. I’m yours.”
A groan rings out along with the clink of clashing teeth as Steve hurriedly brings his lips down to yours again. The kiss is hot and heavy, filled with want and untamed desire. He’s practically panting into your mouth as his tongue works against yours again languidly, guided by passion and a strong need to please.
Steve brings a hand down to envelope your jaw, touch bold but not forceful. “Open,” he instructs, voice low and gravelly.
A small, needy noise leaves your mouth as Steve’s thumb catches on your bottom lip. You do as you’re told, jaw hinging to give him unrestricted access. Your clit pulses with anticipation as you watch him lean in to close what little space is left between you.
It’s slow and sensual. Steve’s kiss-bitten lips brush against yours as he practically drools into your mouth, spit dripping sloppily onto your waiting tongue. It’s warm and wet and filthy and everything you wanted. You blink up at him, feeling overwhelmed with admiration and lust as your senses flood with something that is so undeniably Steve.
Steve notices the way your breath hitches in your throat and flexes his fingers around your pulsepoint. “Swallow.”
You obediently close your mouth to take everything he’s given you, throat contracting as you swallow down every last bit of him. Steve curses under his breath as he watches you. It’s criminal what you’re doing, looking up at him so innocently but following through with something so obscene. A breathy whimper escapes your lips involuntarily as soon as the last of Steve’s spit slides down your throat.
Before you have time to think Steve’s on you again with a tortured moan, hands moving brazenly up your shirt to pull you in impossibly close. His kisses are somehow even sloppier and more open mouthed than before, dirty and determined. You revel in the sensation as Steve feverishly tastes himself on your tongue. He graciously lets his spit spill into your mouth and coat your lips messily, his saliva almost sparkling in the low glow of the room. You moan Steve’s name with need as he separates himself from you, both a plea and a confirmation of how much you’re enjoying him.
“Can I take these off?” Steve rasps against your lips while toying with the fabric of your waistband. “‘Cause now I wanna spit some other places, too.”
thinking about steve harrington who plows you so deep in the bed of his truck that you see stars <3 NSFW MDNI 18+ (have your age in your bio or be blocked)
like most things with steve, it starts off sweet. on one of the first warm spring days in hawkins, steve suggests a picnic. you help him pack an assortment of things into the lunchbox he takes to work and load up the car (after making fun of him for being a huge sap). the windows are down and the radio’s up as he drives you deeper into rural indiana, out to a place where it feels like just the two of you for miles and miles. steve’s hand is splayed across your thigh, his fingers flirting with the hem of your sundress as they drum across the soft expanse of your skin to the beat of the song.
steve puts the car in park under a budding tree a few miles off the paved road. there isn’t another soul in sight. the spot is definitely no lover’s lake, but you always have the best view as long as steve’s around. steve kisses you sweetly before getting out to set up your spontaneous picnic date.
but the grass is still dewy from the storm that rolled in last night. and steve just can’t have that. he claims it’s because he doesn’t want you to be uncomfortable, but you both know it’s actually because he doesn’t want to risk walking around in damp denim all day. never mind the fact that you could just lay another blanket down—steve’s hauling everything back into the bed of his truck before you can blink and holding out a hand to help you up.
now you’re both sitting criss-cross applesauce in the back of his truck, which is bone dry if not a little too firm underneath you. it helps that steve gave you the best blanket to sit on out of the few you tugged off the couch earlier.
and to steve, you look sweet enough to eat. if he’s being honest with himself, it started before the two of you even left the house, bodies brushing up against each other while you worked to make sandwiches and cut up fresh fruit. now your cheeks are rosy from the sun and you’re squinting to see him, nose scrunched in the cutest way while your hand comes up to haphazardly create a sliver of shade.
steve moves in closer, knees brushing yours. “sun in your eyes, honey?”
you just nod lightly as you watch his eyes trail down to your lips in that telltale way, in the way that communicates he has something else on his mind besides just sandwiches. steve gently lays you back on the soft mountain of extra blankets behind you and hovers himself inches above you on his forearms, his large frame perfectly blocking out the sun.
steve dips down to brush your noses together. “better?”
you hum in the affirmative and reach up to card your fingers through the curls that tickle the nape of his neck. “thought we were gonna have a picnic,” you say in a soft voice, already totally smitten.
“we will,” he responds before sucking a kiss into the sensitive spot below your ear. “but first i have an appetite for something else.”
you let him ravish you the way he wants to, responding to his touch with those breathy moans that make him whimper into your soft skin. you can feel how hard steve is for you against your bare thigh, his cock straining and rutting against you every so often beneath the barrier of starchy denim. he kisses you in that languid, sloppy way that makes your head spin, tongue sliding against yours hotly like he can never get enough. steve’s shifted most of his weight on top of you now, a big hand teasing across the column of your throat, your collarbone, up between your thighs close to where you’re beginning to soak through the cotton of your panties.
soon enough he has your dress hiked up around your stomach and the straps pulled off your shoulders so he can watch your tits spill out beyond the confines of the flimsy fabric. steve kisses down your body like he’s starved, tongue darting out to lick the salt off your skin. soon his head is closer to your core, plush lips ghosting up towards where you’re pulsing for him between your legs to whisper his dirty thoughts outloud. fuckin’ aching for you. most gorgeous woman i’ve ever seen. will you let me fuck you sweetheart? jesus christ i want to fuck you so bad.
you shiver as steve finally presses a kiss to your clothed clit, clenching around nothing. steve looks up at you, eyes swimming with uncontrolled lust and an admiration so deep you think he might drown.
you suck in a shaky breath before telling him what he wants to hear. “please fuck me, stevie.”
steve can’t pull himself out fast enough. he’s unbuckling his belt and roughly shoving his pants down his thighs to free his aching cock, the tip already flushed an angry shade of red complimented by a pearly bead of precum. you both let out choked moans of each other’s names as steve pushes your panties to the side so he can slide past your entrance, your velvety walls taking all of him before he starts to move inside of you.
steve is all over you. his weight feels delicious on top of you as he punches out breathless little moans from your lungs over and over again. you’re gasping for air just so you can whine his name when he brushes up against the spot that makes you clench around him. steve’s hips snap at a measured pace that surely makes the truck bounce with every thrust, trying desperately to bury himself as deep within your cunt as humanly possible. he snakes a hand down to rub tight circles against your swollen clit, your hips bucking up as he brings you so close to the edge.
“want you to come for me,” steve admits, voice low and raspy and completely gone over you. his forehead is on yours as he watches your face contort with pleasure, cock twitching in response.
you give him what he wants, legs shaking as you try to pull his pelvis closer to yours. steve swallows your moans as best as he can before he’s spilling helplessly inside you, a total wreck as he feels you milking his cock for all it’s worth. he groans shamelessly into your mouth, breath hitching as he repeats how much he loves you a little too loudly against your kiss-bitten lips.
now you’re both damp for other reasons, sweat collecting across your hairlines and dripping from expanses of slicked skin as you come down from your highs. for a while you’re content with steve laying on top of you, holding you close like a prized possession he never wants to let go of. you’re both thankful for the extra time you took to drive out to the middle of nowhere, everything about this situation all too compromising otherwise. neither of you can bring yourselves to care too much after making each other feel that good.
you wait until the spring breeze cools the drying sweat on your skin to untangle yourselves and finally focus on your picnic, eating strawberries while stealing shy smiles and feeling grateful for steve and his rusting silverado.
steve harrington x gn!reader
summary: steve has to change up his hairstyle after he realizes he's been spending too much money maintaining his hair routine. enter reader, who's a saint and willing to cut his hair for him and let him use their hair products.
contents: epilogue!steve, gender neutral reader, established relationship post-vecna, domestic steve, banter, lots of fluff about reader loving steve's hair/playing with steve's hair/helping steve cut his hair, showering together, suggestive/fade to black smut (srry i had to take it there sooo still 18+ MINORS DNI NSFW!!!)
wc: 3.1k (we won't talk about it)
a/n: been thinking (very fondly) about epilogue!steve lately </3 just something so sweet about helping him get some of his swagger back. this was supposed to be a simple thought but i got carried away (obviously.....)
ao3. divider by @saradika-graphics
It turns out that Steve’s Farrah Fawcett spray habit added up, especially with how much of it he used to use. He always had to hold his breath and count to twenty because the aerosol cloud could have been considered lethal. After Farrah Fawcett spray was wrongfully discontinued in ‘84, he switched to some other regular hold hairspray from the salon that smelled good and got the job done. He used to spare no expense when it came to his hair: biweekly trims at the salon with his regular stylist who he always tipped more than 20% because she knew exactly what he wanted without him having to ask; organic shampoo and conditioner duos; every kind of hairspray, gel, or styling cream on the market. He wasn’t christened Steve “The Hair” Harrington because he skimped on the product.
None of this mattered when his parents used to leave a credit card for him on the counter before heading out for their first, second, third “business trip” of the month. If Steve’s honest with himself, he never used to think about money at all. Even when he had to take the shitty job at Scoops or spend hours rewinding tapes at Family Video, it was mostly just pocket change to blow on gas for his beamer so he could drive around his gaggle of children or (less frequently) take a cute date to the drive-in.
But now Steve’s a coach/teacher/mentor to kids at the same middle school that he went to growing up and gets paid next to nothing for it. He’s an adult with responsibilities whose only family moved states away after the “earthquake” and made it very clear that he was cut off before they left. Steve loves his new gig, he truly does, but it pays him peanuts and adulthood came with a lot of hidden expenses that he wasn’t prepared for. He finally bought that place over in Forest Hills which drained his (measly) savings account, so he’s back at square one. Now he budgets and keeps receipts and gets excited when he finds a spare quarter under the seat of his beat up truck that begs for repairs every time he turns the key in the ignition.
When Steve took a look at the books and realized that he was blowing most of his newly earned money on maintaining his hair routine, he knew he had to reel it in. No more going to the salon–he broke up with his stylist and earnestly asked her to show him how to trim his own hair. He hasn’t bought a bottle of hairspray in months. Now he buys one can of cheap pomade every so often, the real thick kind where a little goes a long way, and combs it through his hair until it’s practically plastered in place. It turns out that he’s not very good at balancing a hand mirror while also attempting to cut straight with scissors, so he lets his hair grow out until it’s noticeably too long then trims a little off the sides and from the curls around his neck.
He’s fine with it. He’s made peace with it. It is the 90s now after all–longer, mullet-adjacent hair is kind of in. He doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb or look totally uncool, but he doesn’t look like the Steve he used to be.
In many ways it’s fitting. He doesn’t necessarily want to look like the Steve he used to be, back when he had a reputation for being not-so-nice or for being the guy with no game who had to take up a summer job slinging ice cream at the mall. He definitely doesn’t want to look like the guy who got strangled in the Upside Down. Steve convinces himself that it’s better this way, that he’s in a new phase of life and needs to look the part.
It’s easier for him to feel reassured because you don’t seem to mind. As a matter of fact, you tell Steve all the time how much you love his hair. You’re always messing it up after a long day, twirling your fingers through it while you watch a movie on the couch, tugging him closer by the long locks while he’s between your thighs. Steve used to not let anyone touch his hair, but he’s hard pressed to care about that now. You don’t give him any reason to feel insecure about it. Sure, the kids he coaches and teaches might tease him for it every now and then, but middle schoolers will make fun of anything. Any ridicule he receives from preteens at school melts away as soon as you tangle one of your hands in his hair to bring him in for a sweet “Imissedyousomuch” kiss after work.
On a night where you’ve both elected to stay in, Steve has his head in your lap while the television drones on in the background playing something neither of you are watching. You’ve shifted your attention to Steve’s luscious hair, running your fingers through the strands above his forehead to soften the shape stuck together by a dollop of his pomade. Steve’s eyes are closed, reveling in the way your nails scratch lightly at his scalp as you continue to card through the now unruly hair on his head.
Steve hums and nudges his head further into your hand. “You know I used to have, like, really nice hair?”
“Steve,” you chuckle lightly, “you still do have really nice hair.” You twirl your fingers through it for emphasis and tug lightly.
“No, yeah, I know,” he responds unconvincingly, “but it used to be big. Kinda movie star-like. I dressed up as Tom Cruise for Halloween once. They called me ‘The Hair.’”
You raise an eyebrow. “They?”
Steve opens his eyes to find yours already looking down at him. “People in school. This was a while ago now, I guess.”
“The same people who used to call you ‘King Steve?’”
“Yeah, maybe. Probably. But it was my thing.” Steve blinks up at you, eyes soft and contemplative.
You bring both hands down to massage his scalp behind his ears. “Do you want it to still be your thing?”
Steve’s eyes flutter closed again as he shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know. Not really. But I’m not sure that I’m totally used to the new style yet.”
“For what it’s worth, I think it looks great on you.” You reach down to trace a heart over Steve’s cheek with your index finger.
“Thanks, honey,” Steve says, eyes opening to find yours again. “I cut it myself, y’know.”
A small smile creeps onto your face at the thought. “Oh, yeah?” It comes out a little like you’re teasing him, but you’re genuinely curious about how he makes it work.
“Yeah,” he huffs out between a laugh. “I’m not very good at it, though. That’s why I let it get kinda long now. It’s easier to maintain this way. I can’t shape for shit.” Steve fully laughs now, self-deprecating in a way that makes your heart squeeze.
“I used to cut my own bangs,” you shrug like it’s no big deal. Truthfully, your hands shook every time until you knew they didn’t turn out too short. “I’m sure I could help you cut your hair. If you wanted,” you offer as you push Steve’s hair out of his face again.
“Yeah?” Steve asks, voice a little smaller than usual.
“Yeah,” you reply with more confidence.
Steve sits up and buries his head in the crook of your neck, placing a quick peck below your ear. “Would you cut it right now?”
You card through the curls past the nape of Steve’s neck reassuringly. “If that’s what you want.”
Steve nods against you, hair tickling your cheek. “Mmmhmmm,” he drawls dramatically into your skin.
It’s your turn to laugh now, warm and good-natured, the kind of laugh that tugs at Steve’s heartstrings and turns him into a total sucker. “Alright, gotta get up first,” you giggle as you pat his back encouragingly.
Begrudgingly Steve pulls himself away from you and scrambles to his feet. He offers a hand to you, ever the gentleman, and helps pull you up from the couch. The two of you walk hand in hand into the bathroom, the counter riddled with reminders of your rushed morning routines before leaving the house for work. Reaching down to the bottom cabinet you pull out a pair of shears from your bag, definitely from the drugstore with dull but still functional blades.
Steve catches your gaze and smiles at you in the mirror when you come up triumphant. His eyes sparkle with excitement as he watches you reach over his shoulder to smooth down the strands sticking up in different directions from your earlier mussing.
“You’re too tall for me, Steve,” you say behind him. “Gonna need to drag a chair in here so I can get to work.”
Steve turns on his heels and saunters out to bring a chair from the kitchen into the bathroom. A barstool would be better, but Steve doesn’t have barstool money yet (or a bar to put them under). The chair he drags in is clunky and barely fits through the doorframe, but he makes it work. He makes a show of whipping the chair down in front of him and sitting down like it’s his throne. You stifle a laugh at his antics, trying to remain serious to assume your role as Steve Harrington’s personal stylist.
Steve looks at you through the mirror again and awaits further instruction. “Ready when you are, babe.”
You take a beat to rake your hands through his hair as it is one last time. “Okay, this might work better if you take your shirt off,” you say seriously.
“Oh, I see now why you offered to do this,” Steve replies, interest piqued.
“No, Steve, I’m serious. I don’t have one of those capes and hair is gonna get everywhere. Just take it off so we don’t have to sweep up your hair all over the house.”
Steve smirks but does what you say, tugging his shirt off his frame and throwing it out into the hallway where someone will likely trip over it later. Heat simmers across your cheeks as you watch his back muscles ripple with movement. Steve fully smiles when he catches you staring at his bare torso in the mirror, your eyes raking over the patch of hair on his chest that leads down to one of your favorite places.
“My stylist seems a bit unfocused,” Steve says with a smile.
You ball up your hands in Steve’s hair and tug playfully. “Might wanna cool it. I have a lot of power up here, y’know.”
Steve shrugs smugly. “Haven’t seen any results yet.”
The shears snap together sharply as you bring them up next to Steve’s ear. “Might help if you tell me what you want first.”
He doesn’t skip a beat, clearly unphased by your pitiful attempt at acting menacing. “I like the volume up here,” Steve says while pulling his fingers through the hair above his face, “but sometimes I want all of this to be shorter,” he concludes while gesturing to the hair around and behind his ears.
Steve sounds so sure of himself when he says it, like this is something he’s thought about thousands of times. He wants his hair cut properly and he trusts you to do it for him. An overwhelming sense of pride washes over you as the reality sinks in. You set the shears down on the counter in front of him and tousle through some of the hair Steve motioned towards.
“Like around here?” you ask inquisitively.
He nods in the affirmative. “Yeah. And maybe just a tiny bit off the top, but not much.”
“Okay, baby,” you say softly before leaning down to kiss the shell of his ear gently. “I can do that for you.”
Steve hands you the shears carefully with a shy smile. “Thank you.”
You take the shears from him and press another kiss to the cowlick on Steve’s scalp. “I’m happy to do it.”
Slightly out of practice, you take your time measuring the length through your fingers before you’re happy with it. Steve watches you with a quiet reverence, buzzing with anticipation beneath you.
You hold out a strand you’re happy with and bring up the shears. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Snip. The first lock of Steve’s hair floats down to the floor near your feet. You search Steve’s face in the mirror for any signs of regret but he’s beaming at you. Past the point of no return, you keep going, trying your best to make your cuts nice and even. Every now and then you confirm with him that the length is where he wants it, even though Steve seems so trusting at this point that he might let you buzz it all off if you thought it would look good.
It turns out that cutting a man’s hair is way easier than cutting bangs. Styling it may be a different story, but Steve went easy on you and didn’t ask for a miracle, just a simple trim. As you continue your work, an idea creeps into your head.
“Y’know, we could always share some of my hair stuff too,” you suggest. You use your shears to (unsafely) gesture towards the hair products lined up on your side of the counter.
“I appreciate the offer, but I think I’ll stick to my pomade.”
Snip. “Dustin told me that you used to use Farrah Fawcett spray.”
“So did he!”
“Yeah, probably because you told him to.”
“Look, it worked great, okay?” he squawks defensively while throwing his hands up in defeat. “Never sold another one like it.”
You bite your lip to hold back a snicker. “Well, it’s no Farrah Fawcett spray, but I have plenty of hairspray that you can use.”
“Seriously, babe, it’s fine.”
“I’m just offering. You don’t need to ask me. You can even use my shampoo and conditioner,” you press. They’re both also from the drugstore, but they’ve got to be better than the 2in1 Head & Shoulders you’ve noticed in the shower lately.
“I’d smell like you.”
“Would that be so bad?”
“No.” Steve smiles. “Not at all.”
You hum and finish up the last of your trimming, telling Steve to close his eyes as you quickly snip some length off the top. “Alright, all done.”
Steve opens his eyes and leans forward to get a good look. For a while you’re both quiet, Steve as he takes in his new ‘do and you as you watch him a little too intensely for his reaction.
“You hate it,” you say sheepishly after a long beat of silence. You chew on the inside of your cheeks with insecurity, gearing up to tell him that you’ll pay for a real hairdresser to fix it tomorrow.
Steve shakes his head. “I really, really, love it.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Really?”
Steve stands up and turns to face you, brushing some stray strands of hair off his neck and shoulders. “Really. It looks great, but it’s even better because you did it.”
“You’re such a sap, Steve Harrington.” You smile despite yourself.
He pulls you in for a proper kiss in response, plush lips enveloping yours sweetly. “Thank you,” he rasps again against your lips.
You let out a small noise into his mouth as you move to kiss him again. It was supposed to be a “you’re welcome and I’ll do this for you any time you want” hum, but Steve makes you so weak in the knees that it comes out more like a low whine. When you reach out to grab at his hair, you come up a little short. Clearly your brain hasn’t fully processed that you chopped a lot of it off.
“Wanna take a shower together?” you ask, voice pitched down with barely controlled lust. “You’re shedding.” You loosen your grip around what’s left of his hair to show Steve the clippings that have come off on your hands.
Steve laughs a little and pulls you in closer. “We can’t have that, can we?”
“Nope. Don’t want your hair all up in our sheets.”
“Well then, I guess we have to,” Steve responds like he needs no convincing.
It’s a race to strip your clothes off. Steve graciously helps you out of your shirt before you both peel your pants off. Shamelessly, your gaze travels down to find Steve’s cock starting to stand to attention between his legs. You feel less bad for staring when you catch him raking his eyes over your frame just the same.
You truly can’t help yourself as you point out the obvious. “Already half hard over there, Harrington?”
“Look,” Steve says, not even trying to hide it, “you were playing with my hair and being the sweetest person on planet earth by doing this for me. It’s all domestic or whatever. It’s not my fault.”
“Guess I’m gonna have to cut your hair more often,” you tease playfully.
Steve turns the water on and checks the temperature before sliding back the shower curtain. “Can I tell people that you’re my personal stylist now? I’d like to book my next appointment.”
“Sure. You’re my favorite client.” You move closer to stamp a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth.
“Better be your only client,” he huffs as he hops in, holding a hand out for you.
“So jealous,” you tut as you climb in after him.
Steve doesn’t put up a fight. It’s meaningless teasing anyway–you both know you’re so easy for each other. The water cascades around the two of you, a warm embrace that does nothing to cool the desire beginning to lick up your lower belly.
“Lemme shampoo your hair,” you all but demand while reaching for the bottle of your shampoo.
Steve gives in again. “If you insist.”
You haphazardly squirt a coin-sized amount of shampoo into your palm and reach up to work it through Steve’s hair. He gives you the same reaction he always does, eyes fluttering closed, head leaning further into your touch. When you pass over the nape of his neck, Steve gives you something extra–a small whimper that squeaks out from the back of his throat. The noise makes your stomach flip.
You can’t help but bait him a little. “Feels good?” you ask while clenching your thighs together.
“Uh huh,” Steve practically moans. He moves in closer, his hardening cock brushing up against your stomach. “Am I gonna get this treatment every time you cut my hair?”
One of your soapy hands sneaks down Steve’s front and cards through the coarse hair below his navel just to watch him shiver. “If you always get this excited, I wouldn’t count it out.”
