𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡
Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Wc: a little more than 1k
Content: female oral receiving, hair pulling, that’s it??
Dividers by @cursed-carmine
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Steve never let anyone touch his hair, he would flip shit if someone even got remotely close to it. Too many early mornings and puffs of Farrah Fawcett spray to risk fucking up the perfectly styled locks.
It took him a while to finally let you so much as run your fingers through his hair let alone grasp it while he was nose deep in your cunt.
“No, not… not the hair…” he’d murmur against your lips whilst you rolled your hips against his thigh, your fingers slowly creeping up the back of his neck. You’d sigh, while your hands kept themselves busy elsewhere on his body.
Or, you’d be wrapped up in his warmth, nearly dozing off in his arms and trying to sneak your way to his hair. He’d catch you, every damn time. He’d ramble on about how he’d spent a whole forty-five minutes on his hair that morning and didn’t want to risk the chance of it getting tousled up by your touch.
You’d never even seen Steve with his natural hair. It’s hard to imagine he wouldn’t be just as handsome without copious amounts of product jammed between each strand. He simply wouldn’t let you see him without that signature Steve Harrington hairdo.
Until right now, your back against the leather seats of his Beamer. Steve crammed into the backseat, pressing his hardening cock against your shivering core. His lips melding with yours in a passionate kiss, teeth pulling at your bottom lip, your hands tugging at his jacket, begging him even closer to you.
“Up,” He growls against your mouth to which you lift your hips off the seat, letting Steve pull your jeans and panties down all in one go. His fingers find their way to your cunt, already glistening with arousal. The sight of Steve alone could get you off if you looked at him long enough.
“Jesus, fuck… you’re perfect.” He groans at the sight, two fingers running up your folds and circling your puffy clit. Your breath hitched at his touch, those big brown eyes of his, now glazed over with desire. Steve watches as your brows knit together in pleasure, still teasing your pussy with his feather-light touch.
“Steve,” You exhale, clenching around nothing. Finally, he plunges two calloused fingers into your hole, feeling you stretch around him. Steve’s eyes never leave yours, he sees your mouth fall open in a heap of strangled moans. Watches as your pupils dilate with each passing second. Pumping in and out of you, curling and scissoring his fingers inside of you, purely for his own enjoyment.
Because Steve Harrington would much rather watch you fall apart in the background seat of his car than watch you go down on him.
“Yeah? Right there, huh, sweetheart?” He spoke, voice raspy as his hand works between your thighs. He slips a third finger in, your squeals echoing off the interior of his car. With a smug smirk, he leans down, lips now mere centimeters away from your clit. You buck your hips, aching for his mouth. He complies… barely. By blowing cool air against your bud, your hands fly to his shoulders.
A placement you’d learned over time. Knowing that he would much rather be burned at the stake than let you pull at his hair. So, your hands always make their way to his arms, his hands, his shoulders. Anywhere but the hair which you so desperately wanted to touch.
And finally, his lips kiss your clit, warmth erupting throughout your entire body, your nails digging onto the fabric of his jacket. Expertly, he moves his fingers in time with his mouth, sucking at and swirling his tongue around your most sensitive nerve.
“Holy shit, Steve…” You breathe out, and you can’t help it, your hands slowly but surely trail upwards. Testing the waters, your hands now stationary on the nape of his neck. He doesn’t pull back, doesn’t tell you to watch the hair.
His fingers slide out of you, now covered in your wetness. Both his hands snake around your thighs, spreading you wider for him. Steve licks one bold stripe up your core, enveloping your clit, sucking hard. You’re a squirming mess beneath his hold, every stroke of his tongue and suction of his mouth bringing you closer to the edge.
Steve’s fingers are buried in the plush skin of your thighs, trying his best to hold you still while he eats you out relentlessly. His tongue traces circles around your hole before pressing ever so slightly into it.
That’s when you do it, without thinking, your knuckles turn white at the grasp on his hair, rolling your hips into his face, his nose angled perfectly up against your clit. He’s moaning into your pussy like it’s the best meal he’d ever had, like he is getting just as much pleasure out of this as you are.
“Oh, god. Gonna cum, baby.” You warn him, voice strained and breathy. He doubles his efforts, now tonguing you down like he’s never done before. Pulling you impossibly closer, he glances up at you, your eyes pinched shut and bottom lip drawn between your teeth. He’s never seen such a beautiful sight in his life.
When your legs clamp tight around his head, fingers deep in his nest of hair, that’s when he knows he’s brought you to the edge. With one flat press of his tongue against your entrance, he’s got you falling apart right above him.
Prolonging your orgasm, he slowly, repeatedly licks at your folds. When he finally comes up for air, his chin is practically dripping with you. His hair sticks up in every which way from your desperate grip but he (surprisingly) doesn’t seem bothered by it whatsoever.
“Pretty girl.” He smiles, licking your arousal from around his lips. He looks like he’s the one that just got tongue fucked, completely dazed out— pussy drunk.
“Your hair,” You chuckle, trying to slick it down with your palm. “I’m sorry, Stevie.”
“Don’t be, I fucking loved it.” Steve huffs a quiet laugh. Pressing a kiss to your lips, you can taste the sweetness of yourself on his tongue.
“So… does that mean I finally get permission to touch your hair?” You smile, eyes lit up in joy. And how could he say no to such a pretty face?
