mili ⚘

finn wolfhards wife for life

[hooligvnn]

I try not to be horny all the time but this man makes it way too difficult like 💔💔 fuck me 💔💔 please 💔💔

[landrysflannel]

is this a safe space to promote my edits on tiktok 🤔 my user is sufferfx if anyone cares

[landrysflannel]

is this a safe space to promote my edits on tiktok 🤔 my user is sufferfx if anyone cares

[landrysflannel]

lowk need finn wolfhard in my life

[moonstoneandmoonlight]

BAD IDEA BUT A REAL GOOD TIME 𑣲 steve harrington

I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it, 'cause I do I'm a couple minutes out from relapsing into you, oh, fuck it I only love it 'cause it's you

Your coworker Steve Harrington is your least favourite person in the world. So why do you love fucking him so much?

pairing: steve harrington x reader words: 2.8k contains: (18+ smut!! minors dni) porn with a (slight) plot, frenimes with benefits, coworkers, slightly brat!steve, jealously, fingering, oral (f receiving), mention of p in v, mention of unprotective penetrative sex, semi public sex (in the store room of family video), pet names (sweet girl, baby), no use of y/n, female reader, use of she/her pronouns for reader.

author's note: back at it again with another song fic!!! this was one was a request that i loved so much that i took a lot longer with this one than usual so apologies about that but i hope it was worth it! i really really loved writing this one!

to be added to my 18+ taglist | masterlist | requests page

Robin Buckley had officially made it a rule that you and Steve could only argue once a day. Once. So you tend to pick your battles wisely.

But today, you had decided to ignore Robin’s rule.

Steve had been thirty minutes late to work and, as a result, Keith had assigned you to rewind all the tapes in the returns box. It was meant to be Steve’s job since he had been the one to break the rewinder machine in the first place and it was objectively the worst job imaginable in the video store. And so, you were already pretty pissed off with Steve when he waltzed into Family Video half an hour late.

“Nice of you to join us, dingus,” Robin greets him with a wry smile as Steve strolls into the video store without a care in the world.

His eyes find yours and you see amusement in them as you angrily shove your little finger into the left spool of the tape and turn it counter clockwise. Steve knew how much you hated rewinding the tapes manually. He knew you were already annoyed at him and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. Did Steve feel bad about it? Judging by the way his lips were twitching as he tried not to smile—you knew he didn’t feel bad. Not even a little bit.

“My car wouldn’t start,” Steve says by way of an explanation. No apology. Just another quick glance your way as he tries to hold back a smirk.

It pissed you off even further. You were convinced that Steve Harrington was put on this earth just to piss you off. In fact, everything he did seemed to piss you off. How he always took way too long on his break. How he organised the shelves incorrectly on a daily basis. How he had once ‘accidentally’ eaten your lunch and had still not repaid you.

But mostly? The thing that pissed you off the most was the fact that Steve Harrington was the best sex of your life.

It was meant to be a drunken, one time thing. A stupid mistake fuelled by alcohol where the lines between hatred and lust had blurred. You had run into each other at a party and, after a stupid argument that had begun over who would be doing the opening shift at Family Video the next morning, Steve had asked you to dance. Told you to loosen up. You had bristled but said yes.

What came next was a blur. You remember an innocent dance between coworkers had turned into you grinding on him. How Steve’s hands—large and firm against your skin—had pulled you closer. How you had felt his hardened cock through his jeans against your ass. You remember the feeling you got—starting as a fluttering feeling in your stomach before it had swooped down, straight to your cunt which throbbed in sudden excitement. How your heart had started to beat a little quicker. How you had felt the heat build in your gut, your panties dampening as you moved with him.

You don’t remember who kissed who first. All you knew was that it didn’t stop at a kiss.

You both had stumbled into a nearby bathroom, unable to pull away from each other. Lips locked in a kiss that was all tongue, teeth and a burning in your veins that couldn’t be put out. The world around you blurring as Steve’s tongue slid against yours, kissing you like he meant it. You kissed him back like he didn’t think you were the most annoying person in the world. His long fingers dipping beneath your skirt and slipping your panties to the side before sliding through your wetness. He had been so smug about how wet you were and you didn’t even have time to tell him to fuck off before he was plunging two fingers inside of you.

Steve Harrington had made you come in under five minutes with just his fingers alone and then—he had fucked you mericlessly against the bahtroom countertop. And it was safe to say that you had been borderline addicted to him ever since. You met up after work a lot to fuck. It was mostly you coming over to his house while his parents were away (which happened a lot). Sometimes it happened in his car in the parking lot. Once or two it happened in your house, his hand covering your mouth as he fucked you at a tortuously slow pace, reminding you in hushed whispers of how your parents were just downstairs while he angled your hips so his cock would kiss your cervix in a way that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

But despite the fact you and Steve were fucking on a regular basis, he still annoyed you. In fact, you would consider him your least favourite person in the world. The fact he had made you come more times than you could count made no difference.

At least that was what you had told yourself.

Steve was looking at you as you continued to rewind tapes. He wasn’t subtle about it—he never was. In fact, it was a downright miracle that Robin had not worked out what you and Steve had been doing for the past few weeks. His hazel eyes tracked your every moment while Robin ranted to him about Keith putting her on Saturday shifts for the next four weeks.

“—I mean, I have a life, you know? Like Vickie actually wanted to hang out with me this weekend! Do you know how much of a big deal that is? Sure I wasn’t going to make a move on her or anything, it was just shopping but now I’m going to have to tell her I’m working and—”

The bell above the door sounded and you briefly glanced up and when you did, your heart sunk. Just a little bit.

Penny Baker had just walked in. A regular customer and former captain of the cheer squad at Hawkins High. The one Steve always flirted with just to piss you off. At least, that was what you suspected he was doing when his eyes flickered over to yours with amusement in them. 

Today was no different. Penny twirled her dark hair around her finger and laughed brightly as Steve gave nonsensical film suggestions.

You felt something dark twist in your gut the way it always did when Steve flirted with someone else. 

You had convinced yourself it wasn’t jealousy. That the feeling in your gut was something else entirely. And so, you ignored it. You acted as though it didn’t bother you. Though, it clearly did and Steve could tell. Hence why his eyes kept flickering over to you every time he made Penny laugh.

“You know,” Steve mused after Penny had left with a Valley Girl tape tucked under her arm. “It’s cute when you’re jealous.”

You let out something close to a laugh, slamming the most recently rewound tape onto the counter. “It’s cute that you think I’m jealous.”

“Oh sweet girl,” Steve murmurs, stepping a little closer to you to whisper in your ear, revelling in the way your breath hitches. That damned nickname he always used. The one that made your cunt clench around nothing. “You were jealous. Don’t bother denying it. Could see it all over your face.”

You say nothing, turning your head to glare at him before grabbing the box of returns on top of the counter. You make sure that your arm collides with his and he laughs openly as you walk towards the stock room.

You know he’ll follow and he does.

Robin was too busy distracted with a customer to notice.

You feel his presence behind you in the stock room as the door closes softly shut behind the two of you.

“You gonna start harassing me at work now?” You ask him as you place the box of tapes onto a nearby shelf, mindlessly organising them as Steve stands directly behind you. You try to ignore the way your heart hammers in your chest.

“Harassing you?” Steve asks, amused as he lifts a hand to brush your hair away from your neck. The action was so tender and intimate it made you drop the tape that was in your hand. “You gonna pick that up?”

You swallow, eyes flicker down to the tape on the floor. “Maybe. You gonna stop accusing me of being jealous?”

“Depends,” Steve murmurs, fingers tracing over the skin on your neck—over the mark he had left a few days prior that hadn’t yet faded—and smiling when you shudder. “You gonna stop being jealous, sweet girl?”

You huff, face warming at the pet name. “Go to hell, Harrington.” You tell him, turning around to glare at him some more but your breath catches when you realise just how close he was.

“You don’t mean that baby,” Steve says, his hand trailing from your neck, over your heaving breasts before his fingers splay across your stomach. “You want me right here, ain’t that right?”

You don’t say anything which was enough of an answer. Steve smiles at you as he begins to kneel down in front of you.

“Steve—what are you—we’re at work—”

“I’m just getting the tape,” Steve tells you innocently, despite the fact his hands were roaming over your jean-clad thighs. Despite the way his pupils were dilated as he looked up at you. Had that look on his face as though he wanted to devour you. “That okay, sweet girl?”

He asks the question casually but the way his nose nudges your cunt over your jeans tells you that Steve Harrington was not just on his knees to help you retrieve a tape.

“If we get caught—”

“We won’t,” Steve tells you before he leans in—unzipping your jeans with his damn teeth in a move that makes heat pool between your legs while simultaneously making you want to strangle him for being so effortlessly smooth.

Steve helped you shimmy out of your jeans, his breath hot against your skin as he left wet kisses along your inner thigh.

“Can smell how much you want me,” Steve tells you, his nose pressing against the damp patch that had collected in your panties. “So fucking sweet as always, baby.”

“Shut up,” you gasp out, your fingers curling in his hair as you lean back against the shelving unit behind you.

Steve smiles, inhaling the sweet scent of your arousal through the cotton of your panties before his lips press against where he knew your clit to be. It was over the material but it still made a small whimper leave your lips. Still had your back arching as he moaned against you.

“Steve—”

“Patience, baby,” he tells you, pulling away enough to look up at you as his hands begin to gently pull your panties down your legs—his cock twitching beneath his jeans when he sees how your pussy glistened in the low lights of the stock room. “Let me take care of her for a minute. She’s crying for me.”

And then, his mouth is on you. His tongue hot and eager as it glides between your folds, coating the tip with your arousal and groaning as he tastes you properly.

“So fucking sweet,” his murmurs against you, his hand wrapping around one of your thighs and helping you lift it over his shoulder. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted. You think I want someone else's when I have yours, sweet girl?”

You bite back a moan, knowing that if you didn’t it would be loud and wanton, knowing Robin would hear it. Steve liked to say things like this during sex—liked to tell you that you were the only one he needed. You were sure it was just pillow talk. You didn’t really know if he truly meant it. But it made your heart race all the same.

“You don’t mean that,” you manage to say as his tongue continues to glide through your folds, a slow torture that had your fingers tightening in his hair.

“I do,” he murmurs against you—dark eyes flickering up to meet yours. “No one else.”

There’s a moment where you just look at each other—a quiet understanding there before his lips wrap around your clit and then? You were gone.

Steve Harrington took no mercy on you, sucking on your sensitive bud enough to make you whimper before he dips down to fuck you with his tongue. It was nothing short of torture, his tounge licking in and out of you and his nose—that fucking beautiful nose of his—nudging against your swollen clit. You felt your hips moving without permission. The wet sounds of his mouth on you filling the quiet store room. His muffled moans against your soaked cunt as your hips chased his mouth, his fingers digging into the plush flesh of your thighs.

You could have come from his tongue alone. But Steve wanted you to see stars.

When two of his long, thick fingers slid into you—you were so close to crying out that you had to stuff your fist into your mouth to prevent yourself from doing so. You could feel Steve smile against you, his fingers curling and finding that spot inside of you with ease. A whimper manages to escape and Steve groans, curling his fingers again and again until your thighs were trembling.

“Stevie,” you gasp out—the nickname that you only ever used in these moments, when you were right on the edge and Steve was the only one you trusted to catch you. “I’m so close—I’m going to—”

“I got you, baby,” he tells you, still moving his fingers inside of you. “Don’t you worry. I got you.”

If you weren’t so close, you may have thought more about the look in his eyes. Would have thought more about the way he was gripping onto you like he never wanted to let you go. But the feeling building in your gut was too intense, too all consuming to think of anything else but his fingers and his tongue and—

“Stevie, oh god—Stevie—”

Your orgasm hits you hard. Had Steve not been holding you so tightly, you may have collapsed entirely. But he held you—steady and firm as your walls fluttered around his fingers, your release coating his tongue and Steve lapping up every damn drop as though it was liquid gold.

Your fingers curl into his hair for a brief moment before you let go. Your breathing erratic as you come back down to earth from the intensity of your orgasm, your eyes wide when they meet his hazel ones.

His lips were wet, soaked from your release and god—he looked so beautiful that it took your breath away for a few moments. You blink, softer now in the aftermath of your bliss. You didn’t argue as Steve helped you step into your panties, as he pulled them up your legs. You didn’t make a comment as he also helped you into your jeans.

“You know I mean it, right?” Steve asks you quietly as he gently pulls up your jeans, his eyes meeting yours as he stands up straight.

“Mean what?” You ask him quietly, your eyes flickering between his as you try to understand what he meant. Though, deep down, you think you already know.

“That I don’t need anyone else,” he says. “Not when I have you.”

You swallow, the admission hanging between the two of you. You’re not quite sure what to say and you’re certainly not sure how to feel about what he had just said. But your traitorous heart hammers against your chest and your cheeks burn.

“Careful Harrington,” you murmur back quietly. “Keep talking like that and I’ll think you actually like me.”

Steve smiles—he actually smiles at that—and looks away from you, down at the forgotten tape still on the floor between you.

“Something like that,” he says quietly before he bends down to actually retrieve the tape.

You want to say something more, want to tell him how seeing him with Penny and the other giggling customers made you feel. But you didn’t.

You just watch as he returns the tape to the box of returns. You watch as he adjusts himself in his jeans, shooting you a wink.

“You can help me out later,” Steve tells you and you fight back a smile.

“If you’re lucky,” you say, knowing that you would inevitably have his cock in your mouth a few hours later.

Steve smiles, leaning in to press a kiss that was almost sweet to your forehead.

“Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

dividers by @cursed-carmine

mdni / support banners by @saradika-graphics

.✦ ݁˖ rec account: @moonstone-recommends .✦ ݁˖

[moondustbaby]

Our House, Our Rules

bf!Steve Harrington x gf!Reader

summary: Steve’s parents are gone as usual, so Steve treats the house like it’s yours as much as his and drags you into his bed to remind you exactly who you belong to. Big dick, cock-slapping, creampie-obsessed boyfriend energy as he fucks you deep into the mattress and gets way too excited about the mess he leaves between your thighs.

cw: smut, established relationship, unprotected piv, creampie, praise kink, size kink?, cock slapping, slight overstimulation

word count: 2.8k

mdni 18+

Steve’s bedroom always felt more like your room than his.

Your clothes in a pile on his chair, your perfume soaked into his pillows, your lip balm on his nightstand next to his watch. His parents hadn’t been home in what felt like months, and somewhere along the way, “Steve’s house” had quietly turned into “your house.”

Which is why you were comfortably sprawled across his bed in one of his shirts and nothing else, flipping through a magazine like you weren’t waiting for him to get out of the shower and ruin you.

You heard the bathroom door squeak open, the soft pad of his feet on the carpet. A second later his weight dipped the mattress and wet hair brushed your arm.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice warm and lazy.

You didn’t bother looking up. “Hey.”

He plucked the magazine right out of your hands and tossed it onto the floor.

“Rude” you protested, finally turning your head to glare at him.

Steve just grinned, that cocky, sunshine smile that made you forget your own name. His hair was damp and messy, gray sweatpants slung low on his hips, shirtless and still flushed from the hot water. Drops of water trailed down his chest and you got stuck watching one slide past his navel and disappear under the waistband.

“Thought you said you missed me” he teased, leaning on one arm, crowding into your space. “I’ve been in the shower for, like, three years and I get… a hey?”

Your lips twitched. “I do miss you. I also missed my article on how to get the perfect blowout.”

He huffed a laugh and ducked down, nosing at your cheek. “Yeah? ‘Cause I’m feeling pretty blown out that my girlfriend would rather read about hair than kiss me.”

“Terrible” you deadpanned. “That was terrible, Steven.”

His fingers slid under the hem of his own shirt that you were wearing, thumb brushing the bare skin of your hip. “What, you gonna punish me for it? ‘Cause I’ll take my chances.”

You tried to keep your voice steady. “Who says I was thinking about you at all?”

He paused, then slowly pulled the shirt up just enough to expose your bare thigh, eyes dragging down. His gaze darkened when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Yeah?” he murmured. “You gonna look me in the eye and tell me you’re not thinking about me right now, honey?”

Your face went hot, but you held out as long as you could. “Maybe I was thinking about dinner.”

Steve hummed, unconvinced, and pushed the shirt up higher, exposing the curve of your waist, the soft swell of your stomach. His palm flattened over your skin like he was staking a claim.

“Uh-huh. You lying to me in my house?” His thumb stroked small circles low on your belly. “That’s crazy, ‘cause I walked in here and all I can think is… my girl’s in my bed, in my shirt, no panties, and she wants me to believe she’s thinking about takeout.”

You swallowed. “I– I could be.”

His hand drifted lower, knuckles grazing the inside of your thigh. “Yeah? So if I check, you’re not gonna be all warm and wet for me, is that what you’re saying?”

You glared at him, even as your hips gave a tiny, traitorous tilt toward his touch. “You’re annoying.”

“You’re avoiding the question” he shot back, smug, sliding his hand between your legs.

The moment his fingers brushed your slit, both of you froze.

“Jesus” he breathed, eyes flicking back up to yours. “Baby.”

You were soaked, slick gathered there like you’d been working yourself up just thinking about him. Which… okay, you kind of had.

Steve’s pupils blew wide, and suddenly the teasing was gone. He looked hungry.

“Yeah” he said quietly. “Yeah, you definitely missed me.”

You sucked in a breath as he lazily dragged his fingers through your wetness, up and down, not quite giving you what you wanted.

“Steve” you whispered, hand grabbing at his wrist.

“What?” he murmured, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth, then your jaw. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“You’re—” You bit your lip as he circled your clit just barely, not enough pressure to make it count. “You’re doing that thing.”

“What thing?” He played dumb, lips ghosting over your throat as his fingers kept up those slow, infuriating strokes. “The thing where I touch my girl ‘cause she’s dripping all over my sheets? That thing?”

You whined, squirming. “You know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah, I do.” He chuckled against your skin. “You should see yourself right now.”

He pulled back just enough to look, spreading you open with two fingers, the cool air hitting your slick heat. Your cheeks burned as his gaze dropped to between your thighs, dark and reverent.

“God, baby” he groaned, almost to himself. “Look at this pussy.” His tongue peeked out to wet his lips. “You’re so wet and I haven’t even done anything yet. You really were just laying here thinking about me, huh?”

You wanted to deny it, to save a shred of dignity, but the way he was staring at you made your brain short-circuit.

“Maybe” you muttered.

He grinned, triumphant. “You are gonna be the death of me.”

Before you could respond, he shifted, kneeling between your legs and tugging the shirt higher until it was bunched around your ribs. His hands slid up your sides and cupped your breasts through the thin cotton, thumbs brushing your nipples until they pebbled.

“Take it off” he said, voice a little rough. “Wanna see all of you.”

You sat up just enough for him to peel the shirt over your head. Steve dropped it somewhere on the floor without looking, eyes glued to you spread out for him, bare and breathing hard.

He let out a reverent little laugh. “My perfect fucking girl.”

Heat flared low in your stomach at the way he said my—like there was no universe where you belonged to anyone else.

“Steve” you whispered, reaching for him.

He caught your wrist and brought your hand to his mouth, kissing your palm, your knuckles. “I’ve got you, okay? Just lay back for me.”

You did, sinking into the mattress. Steve shoved his sweatpants down, revealing just how hard he already was, cock flushed and heavy against his stomach. Even now, every time you saw him like that, your body gave that same little nervous flutter.

He caught your stare and smirked. “You staring, honey?”

You wet your lips. “Maybe.”

“Can’t blame you” he said lightly, then dropped his voice. “This is all yours, you know that?”

You nodded, dazed, as he wrapped a hand around himself and gave a slow stroke, base to tip. A bead of precum gathered there and he thumbed it away, hissing softly.

Then he leaned forward and used his free hand to hook under your knee, pushing your legs open wider.

“C’mere,” he murmured, sliding closer until the head of his cock nudged your folds. He didn’t push in, just dragged himself through your slick, coating himself. “Fuck, baby. You hear that?”

The obscene wet sound filled the room, and you moaned, fingers clenching in the sheets.

“Steve—”

“You’re so messy for me” he rasped, eyes fixed where his cock moved against you. “You got yourself all worked up just waiting, huh?”

He pulled back and then slapped his cock lightly against your clit.

You jolted. “Oh my god—”

Steve’s grin turned wicked, doing it again just to see you jump. The thick, weighty smack and the sting of sensation had you gasping, heat shooting straight through you.

“You like that?” he asked, testing, giving you another sharp little slap against your swollen folds, the head of his cock bouncing off your clit.

You whined, hips twitching. “S-steve—”

“That’s not a no” he teased, eyes bright. “Look at you. Getting all flustered over a little cock slapping.”

“It’s not—” you tried, but it dissolved into a moan when he did it again, a little harder this time.

“Not what?” he coaxed, voice smug. “Not making you clench around nothing? ‘Cause I can see you, baby.”

Your thighs trembled. The mix of sting and pressure had your body arching off the bed, nerves buzzing.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed, half-laugh, half-plea. “I like it. Happy?”

“So fucking happy” he said, and then, almost sweetly: “My pretty girl, taking it so good for me.”

He eased up then, pressing the head of his cock against your entrance. The teasing dropped out of his expression, leaving just raw heat and something softer underneath.

“Gonna put it in now, yeah?” he murmured. “Need you so bad, baby.”

You nodded quickly. “Please.”

His hand came up to cradle your cheek, thumb stroking your skin. “Deep breath for me.”

You exhaled and he pushed in slowly, the stretch burning in that familiar, addictive way. He was big—he always felt big—but he went so carefully, watching your face, stopping when you gasped so you could adjust.

“Fuck” he groaned, jaw clenching. “Always so tight for me. You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, fingers digging into warm skin as he sank deeper, inch by inch. The fullness built and built until he was bottomed out, pelvis pressed to yours.

You let out a shaky breath. “You’re… you’re so deep.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, like he was hanging onto his control by a thread. When he opened them again, it was all for you. “You feel me in there, sweetheart?”

“Can’t– I can’t not feel you,” you whined, walls fluttering around him. “You’re huge.”

His mouth curved, pride and affection tangled together. “Say that again.”

You swallowed. “You’re so big”

He groaned, head dropping to your shoulder. “You’re gonna kill me, I swear to god.”

He stayed still for a beat, letting you get used to him. You used the pause to wrap your legs around his waist, angling your hips instinctively until he brushed that perfect spot inside.

You gasped, nails scratching lightly down his back. “There—right there—”

Steve sucked in a sharp breath. “Yeah? That it?” He pulled back just a little and pushed in again, hitting the same place, watching your face twist in pleasure. “Right here, baby?”

A choked sound tore out of you. “Yes, yes—”

“That’s my girl” he praised, grin going hazy. “Knew you’d take it all for me.”

He started to move, slow at first, deep thrusts that had you feeling every ridge of him. The drag of his cock against your slick walls, the pressure low in your belly—it built fast, too fast, all the tension from waiting on him now snapping into sharp, needy focus.

“Faster” you whined, hips chasing his. “Please, Baby, I need—”

He didn’t make you beg for long. “Okay, okay. I got you.”

He adjusted his weight, bracing on his forearms so his chest pressed to yours, bringing you impossibly close. Then he started fucking you in earnest, pace quickening, hips snapping against yours in deep, firm thrusts.

The headboard thumped lightly against the wall, your moans mixing with his grunts and the filthy wet sound of him sliding in and out of you.

“Listen to you” he panted, eyes locked on yours. “You hear yourself, baby? You’re so loud for me.”

“You’re the one—” You broke off with a gasp as he hit that spot again and again. “You’re the one doing this to me—”

“Damn right I am” he said, and then his hand was sliding between your bodies, fingers finding your clit.

You gasped, back arching, the added pressure sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. It was too much and not enough all at once.

“Steve—oh my god—”

“That’s it” he coaxed, rubbing tight circles in time with his thrusts. “Take it, sweetheart. Take all of it. This pussy’s mine, yeah?”

You clenched around him, the possessive edge in his voice making you dizzy. “Y-yeah—yours—oh fuck—”

“Say it” he pleaded, voice breaking. “Tell me. Tell me it’s mine.”

“It’s yours” you cried, the words tumbling out. “All yours, Baby, I’m yours—”

He groaned like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. “Fuck, I love you.”

The way he said it, wrecked and earnest, tipped you even closer to the edge. The pleasure coiled tight in your stomach, building with every thrust, every drag of his fingers over your clit.

Your thighs started to shake. “I’m gonna—”

His hand cupped the back of your head, holding you to him, nose brushing yours. “Yeah? You gonna come for me? On my cock?”

You nodded frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from how intense it felt. “Please—please, Steve—”

“Do it” he rasped, picking up the pace, driving into you just a little harder. “Come on, baby, make a mess on me. Want to feel you squeeze me.”

Your whole body went tight, then snapped. The orgasm tore through you, white-hot and blinding, your walls clamping down around him as you cried out his name. Your legs locked around his waist, back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

Steve choked on a curse, his rhythm stuttering as he felt you come undone. “Oh fuck, there you go—that’s it, that’s it—good girl, holy shit—”

You could feel him fighting to hold on, hips still driving into you even as you spasmed around him. The sensitivity was almost too much, pleasure tipping into oversweet, but you clung to him, desperate to keep him as close as possible.

“Inside” you gasped, words tumbling out before you could second-guess them. “Come inside, Baby, please—wanna feel you—”

His eyes flew open, pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left. “Jesus Christ” he groaned, jaw going slack. “You’re trying to kill me, I swear—”

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper. “Please, Steve. Need it.”

That did it.

His hips snapped forward in a few rough, frantic thrusts, and then he was coming with a broken, strangled moan, burying himself as deep as he could go. You felt him pulse inside you, warmth flooding your core, the sensation making your entire body shiver.

“Fuck—oh my god, baby—” He collapsed against you, breath hot and ragged against your neck. “So good, you’re so fucking good—”

You held him through it, fingers rubbing soothing circles on his back even as you trembled beneath him. The two of you stayed tangled together, panting in the quiet of his room, the world narrowed to the thud of his heart against your chest.

After a long moment, he shifted just enough to look at you, still buried inside, his cheeks flushed and hair a wild, damp mess.

“Hey” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You okay?”

You nodded, dazed, a lazy smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah. More than okay.”

His mouth curved, relief and pride softening his features. “Good.”

You felt a slow leak of warmth between your legs and your face heated. “Oh my god, I can feel you—”

He groaned, eyes squeezing shut. “Do not say shit like that unless you want round two immediately.”

You laughed, giving his shoulder a playful smack. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned down to peck your lips. “You love me.”

“I do” you admitted, brushing your nose against his. “Even if you are a menace.”

“Rude” he said, but he was smiling. He shifted carefully, easing out of you with a soft wince—for both of you—and watched, openly fascinated, as his come started to slip out.

He made this low, reverent noise. “God, I love seeing that.”

“Steve” you whined, mortified, trying to clamp your thighs together. “Don’t stare.”

“Can’t help it” he said, utterly unbothered. “My girl, my mess. Kinda obsessed, actually.”

“Kinda?” you snorted.

He grinned, unabashed. “Okay, very obsessed.” He flopped down beside you and pulled you into his chest, tucking you under his arm like you belonged there. Which… you did.

For a while, you just lay there in the quiet. His fingers traced idle patterns on your shoulder, his breathing evening out as the high slowly faded.

“You know” he said eventually, voice thoughtful, “my parents have no idea their bedroom is getting shown up by mine.”

You giggled into his skin. “What, you jealous of their thread count?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “They’re never here. This is our house now, remember? This—” He gestured vaguely around the room. “This is the primary suite.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He tipped your chin up so you had to meet his gaze, a soft, dopey smile on his face. “Yeah, but I’m yours.”

You smiled back, heart doing a little flip. “Yeah. You are.”

a/n: happy saturday angels! here’s a long one since it’s been about a week since i last posted. nothing better than some feral bf!steve for your saturday evening!

♥️ lani

Masterlist

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𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉: @hungrilysymbol @obx-hp-fan @unsaidjaelinrose

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the steve taglist!

[dolliscent333]

he’s so bf coded. i NEED to bite him

© ‧₊˚ DOLLISCENT333

[cherryst4rg1rl]

Oh to be a girl in the 80s waiting for her boyfriend to climb through her window is my dream

[mattsstarlet]

the concept of matt and chris working in carpentry ohmygod im wet

i’d have to change my panties every hour

[landrysflannel]

FINN IN A HEATED RIVALRY PARODY X HARRY POTTER ON SNLLL WAS NOTTT ON MY 2026 BINGO CARD CHECK LIST

[lacievalentine]

STEPBRO!MIKE WHO…

warnings! oral (fem receiving), porn no plot?, risky, finger hyper-fixation, too much commas, kinda long post? (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

blurb, stepbro!mike head-cannons except turn them into a long story.

Taglist @danedehannie (lmk if you want to be added!)

⋆˚࿔ Knocks in morse code on the wall shared between your bedrooms to let you know he wants you.

Humming a random tune, you tap your pencil against the empty paraphrasing paper in front of you. It’s odd; literature has always been your strong suit. You love reading the assigned poems and searching for the metaphors and hidden meanings between the lines, but right now, your mind is occupied by your stepbrother, Mike Wheeler.

He is so close, yet so far. You look up at the wall your desk is pressed against; you can hear him flipping through the pages of his own homework through the thin walls. Pushing the thought aside, you try to get back to work. Too focused on writing, you almost miss the soft knocks coming from the wall in front of you. Recognizing the familiar pattern, you get up silently and make your way out of your room.

You hold your breath as you twist his doorknob, careful not to alert Karen or your father. You slip into his room, only to be met immediately with his lips on yours. Mike presses you against the door, locking it quietly while his tongue grazes your bottom lip. You smile against him, and he can’t help but mirror you.

"Hi," he whispers softly. You giggle in response, repeating the word back to him. "Hi, Mike."

⋆˚࿔ Asks you to keep your eyes on the door.

Your back presses into his sheets as the scent of warm amber and creamy vanilla envelopes you. Although he is like every other messy teenager, Mike sure as hell smells fantastic. He trails soft kisses down your stomach, causing every muscle south of your bellybutton to contract.

Exhaling a ragged breath, your fingers bury themselves in his hair. Reaching the waistband of your garments, he looks up at you while gently sliding them down your legs. “Keep your eyes on that door, okay?” he whispers, pupils blown wide and lips parted. You purse your lips to keep yourself from moaning at the sight.

With your garments disregarded, Mike’s cold, pale fingers gently settle your legs onto his shoulders. Goosebumps shoot through you as your body processes his cool hands gripping your thighs in place. His head dips between your legs. “Oh my god,” you breathe.

Closing your eyes, you rock into his touch, fingers knotting in his hair. “Mike...” you moan softly as his tongue sweeps over your heat in slow, rhythmic strokes. His nose bumping against your clit.

“Shh...” he coaxes, teasing you with his finger. “Keep your eyes on the door, and don’t make a sound,” he reminds you. Your eyes dart to him as he pulls back slightly to watch his finger sink into you.

⋆˚࿔ Loves using his fingers on you because he knows they’re your hyper-fixation. ^

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out. A tightening sensation bubbles in your core as heat creeps over your body—a primal feeling you want to chase down, your body demanding you to do so. You buck your hips against his hand, hunting for that release.

Mike takes it as a hint to add another finger. His wide eyes take in your reactions, sending a pulse of heat through him. His fingers move faster inside you, curling just right to push your body further. “Mike!” you moan louder.

⋆˚࿔ Clamps his palm over your mouth to silence you. ^

He can feel his heartbeat quicken as your voice rises. His other hand flies to your mouth, clamping his palm against your lips to muffle your moans. “Shhh, my mom would kill us,” he whispers, and your eyes widen at the reminder.

Something about the risk of getting caught adds fuel to the fire. Whatever this feeling is, it feels like crashing over a cliff. Your legs shake and you jolt violently beneath him as ripples of ecstasy shoot through your veins. Your moan is muffled against his palm as he presses it down tighter against your mouth.

“Just ride it out,” Mike breathes.

You let the orgasm wash over you as his fingers slow down before pulling out. The slickness slides down his knuckles, and he brings his fingers to your lips. Wrapping your lips around them, you suck slightly, tasting yourself as your tongue swirls around his fingertips.

“Christ,” he mutters at the sight. “Tastes sweet, doesn’t it?” You nod in response.

⋆˚࿔ Gives you his clothes to make sure you’re comfortable. ^

“Dinner’s ready!” Karen’s voice echoes through the house.

“Coming!” Mike calls back.

Mike finishes cleaning your legs with a napkin, then hands you a pair of his pants and a sweater. “My closet is yours if you need anything else,” he says softly, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

“Thank you,” you murmur, pressing a quick peck against his lips. His lips chase after yours for another, but you let out a hum of protest.

Mike groans. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you downstairs.”

He leaves the room to allow you to change, but mostly to not raise suspicion.

⋆˚࿔ Dreads the idea of you talking about other guys with his mom.

“Keep that guy. He sounds sweet,” Karen says.

You laugh slightly. “He’s a great math tutor, Karen. I don’t know if I would get with him though.”

Karen shakes her head. “Back me up here, Mike,” she urges him.

“Uh, yeah... no,” Mike replies, looking at you. “He sounds weird, Mom. Maybe I can tutor her instead.”

Karen sighs; deep down, she knows she won’t be able to stop whatever is happening between the two of you.

⋆˚࿔ Watches you with your friends from across the halls.

“Mike, dude, are you listening?” Lucas’s voice cuts through Mike’s thoughts as he watches you with your friend group across the hall.

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” he says hesitantly, looking back at Lucas.

“Are you SURE she’s just your stepsister?” “What?”

Max then chimes in, “You look at her with heart eyes, Wheeler.”

Mike’s face contorts in disgust because he hates that it’s true. I mean, you can’t blame him. He loves watching you laugh, seeing the way the sun catches in your hair, or the way you speak passionately about everything.

“Screw you, Max,” Mike mutters.

Truly, Michael Wheeler was utterly doomed.

-ℒ𝓋

[velvetciders]

pt 2.

𖦹 two letters and messy handwriting later, you find out the real truth on who your secret admirer is. 3,700k+ pt 1 here! tw: slight bullying/harsh words

school was actually something worth waking up for in the morning.

you walked into the school with a buzz and a sense of belong, knowing that someone had their eyes on you. people walked in and out, shoving past you- something you would usually hate but it didn't seem as annoying now.

you went to the locker and saw the letter peeking through your locker, the paper clean this time with no coffee stains. you scurried to open it.

there was messy hand writing. smudged ink and letters. it was perfect and imperfect all at the same time- but it didn't matter anyways. it was for you. you skimmed through it before starting to read.

"dear y/n,

i realized i made a stupid and big mistake from the last letter. it was just rushed and not what i wanted it to be. and i'm sorry that i dropped such big news on you without telling you who i was. but i won't tell you yet, not until i really tell you how i see you.

i see your smile, your eyes, your nose, your pretty hair. your so pretty. so pretty that it makes my heart beat so fast at the thought of you. isn't that insane? i've loved everything about you since middle school and i feel like i know the way you smile and the way your eyes are colored by memory. your eyes are so so beautiful and radiant and i know i will never forget them when i grow old. your really the prettiest girl i've ever seen in this whole world, and you always will be to me- pretty on the outside and the inside. i hear you talking about how you sometime's don't like the way you dress or how it's styled. but i think the way you dress is beautiful, everything you wear is just so you. and it's pretty.

and to let you know, i've told you these things in person. i know. crazy we've met each other before. but i'm sure countless of guys have complimented you left and right, that would not be a surprise. and if they haven't- their assholes. and i'd be glad i'll be the first one to tell you.

from, anonymous"

you felt like you were out of body. you read the letter over and over until your head hurt, until you had the letters memorized. this was getting to a point, an insane point where you were finally happy. you felt pretty, just like he said.

after the upside down and max, you weren't in a great place. you had vivid nightmares, nightmares where you could feel a cold touch and hear terrible screams. it terrified you- and it was every night. you were on medication and you went to thereapy, the image of max still replaying over and over again in your head.

you were to scared to tell the rest of the party, to scared to ask if they experienced the same thing. you assumed they did- it must've hit harder for them. you did have the courage to ask mike, and it started a different sort of bond between you two- stronger than what already was. sometime's mike let you sneak into his house, into his comforting room which you were so familiar with- where you felt home.

he knew you so well, knew exactly what to say when you needed to hear them- through quiet whispers under the blankets in his warm bed. it was safe with mike. it always was. and once school started again- your nightmares began to fade. you thought it was because you were having more human interactions, considering you locked yourself in your room.

but it meant less mike than before. no holding each other late at night. no whispers, no movie nights, no reading comics with him. you two were still close, but you couldn't help but miss the feeling you got whenever he looked at yo-

"hey." you hear the familiar and soft voice behind you.

you look up with a shy smile. "hi."

"another one?"

you nod, and he skims through it. 10 second later he looked up. your eyebrows furrowed at the fact he barely even read it. you didn't know why but you sort of wanted him to read it, to see that someone saw you this way.

"did- did you read it?" you point to the line of where the boy says something about your clothes.

"mhm. i mean, he's sorta just saying stuff that we've been knowing." he says with a playful but soft tone.

"mike.. be serious." you couldn't help but crack a smile. "did you investigate like i asked?"

"yeah, didn't find much. there's like hundreds of people at this school.. sorta hard." he shrugs, his eyebrows lifting like habit. you groan, putting the paper in the envelope.

"ugh, okay yeah- whatever." you mumble. "yknow what? i'm just.. i think i'm gonna ask oliver."

"if it's him?" he asks.

"yeah. i mean, it probably is.. right?" you say quietly, your voice laced with uncertainty.

"why don't you just wait it out? there's one more letter, right?" he asks. "maybe he has some grand gesture for you or something."

your eyes met his, and you think. you could wait, could wait for the last words of praise this boy had to tell you. but it could be a day earlier where you finally kiss a guy- and that, you wanted to do. maybe not with oliver.. but it was someone. you shake your head, opening your locker.

"i'll just ask him casually in biology. like 'hey oliver, are you writing these to me?'" you say as you grab your books. "it won't hurt."

mike's mouth opened, words about to come out before the bell loudly rang in the hallways. his shoulder nudged yours and he nodded towards the end of the hall. "cmon, we're gonna be late."

--------------------

when you got to biology, you made it 100% sure you sat next to oliver. you gave him a small smile to give him a good impression, your heart ringing into your ears from how nervous you were.

mrs. marsh’s voice muffled into oblivion when you started to write on the small ripped out paper from your notebook.

“hey ◡̈ meet me at the parking lot during lunch?”

was what the note said when you slid it to oliver when mrs. marsh wasn’t paying attention. you bit your nails as you sideyed him. when you saw his head turn to you- your eyes met his.

he nodded, and you nodded back.

it was now lunch, and you were at parking lot after making a shitty excuse to the party that you had to go to the nurse.

“hey.” you hear olivers voice cut through all the noise in your head. he was leaning against his beamer, looking already unconvinced.

“hi.” you say with a small smile. “so um.. this- it won’t take long.”

oliver nodded, hands in his puffer from the cold as he waited for you.

you chuckled, looking down before looking back at him. “ill just be point blank.”

“have you been uh.. leaving notes for me? like- in my locker? cus im totally okay with it, im- im flattered actually.” you immediately say.

he looks at you, eyebrows furrowed. he had that face that all the jocks had. the face that just laughed at you or judged you in anything you said.

“the fuck are you talking about? no, i haven’t.” he snarks with an attitude. wow.

your eyes widened, eyebrows lifted. “wha- are you sure?”

“why the fuck would i give letters to you? your literally nobody.” he says with a chuckle in his voice.

“im so.. oliver im confused right now. didn’t- didn’t you tell me you liked me?” you stutter your words, already taking a step back in embarrassment.

“ahh shit yeah.” he laughs, “just some dare i had to pull.”

your lips parted, nothing but a breath coming out. he didn’t like you. he never did. just like you expected- the concept of a boy never liking you. it had your heart slow down, but not in a calming way.

you were defeated, embarrassed in front of a guy you barely knew. you were frozen, just like you were frozen when you read the letters. the letters you thought were his.

“you think i really liked you?” he says in shock. he saw your expression, and he laughed.

“oh my god! wow that’s- that’s the cherry on top. i mean just..” he looks at you up and down. “look at you.”

“i don’t understand.” your voice shakes.

you felt your eyes go blurry from the tears, and you wanted it to stop. your heart was racing again- like how it did during your nightmares. your nightmares that were whispered away by mike.

“you think i’d write a letter to someone who’s probably banging that eddie freak? wow. just wow.” he shakes his head and chuckles- pushing himself of the car.

“don’t ever speak to me again.” he says before walking off back into school.

you don’t know what happened next- only remembering that you immediately went home. you rode your back with tears streaming down your cheek, the air making your face feel cold.

you missed the last few periods, the classes you had with the party. with mike. and it wasn’t the fact that oliver said those things to you.

you never liked oliver really, he was never cute. it was his words that hurt- the way he said them. mike would never say that. mike has never said anything bad about you, even if you weren’t there.

you missed him. you needed mike- needed his words and his touch. his gentle touch that had you melted right then and there.

you went to bed listening to The Cure, pillow smushed to your cheek as you cried- already knowing that school wouldn’t be an option tomorrow.

————————————

it was a rainy day in hawkins, like usual- but it was the worst timing for you. the rain was your favorite, but it made you feel miserable more than what you already felt. you were curled up in your bed, not ever planning on leaving. you looked at your clock. 11:00 am.

you groaned, rubbing your eyes and you looked out the window that spilled a gray lighting into your room. you shivered- sitting up and putting your slippers on.

you started walking to your bathroom when you heard knocks at the front door. your parents were off at work- so you assumed it was some solicitor. you opened your bathroom door when you heard your name being called.

it was muffled and faint, but you could recognize the voice from anywhere.

“mike?” you call out, your footsteps softly padding on the ground as you walked outside your room.

“yeah it’s me! could you open the door?” he said with a sense of urgency, and you did.

he was soaking wet, and completely out of breath. his bike was in your driveway- tossed aside like he was in a hurry.

“jesus mike wha- come in.” you grab his freezing arm, water dripping inside.

“what are you doing here? aren’t you supposed to be at school?” you ask.

“i should be asking you that.” he says quietly, and your eyebrows furrow.

“you drove all the way here to ask that?” you ask.

“yeah.. well- no.” he shakes his head quickly. “i didn’t even see you yesterday after lunch.”

his words was another constant reminder of what happened only yesterday, and you gulped. you nodded, rubbing your arm up and down.

“like i said.. i had to go to the nurses. i felt sick.” you mumble.

“that’s bullshit because i went there to check up on you and you were never even there.” he says.

your lips parted, not knowing what to say.

“hey. it’s me.” he says in a more gentle voice, stepping closer to you.

“did something happen? or did.. you just were feeling sad and you didn’t wanna go to school?”

his voice was so soft that you felt like crying. so that’s what you did. you melted into his arms, and he reciprocated the hug.

“hey hey.. okay. it’s okay.” he whispers into your neck, rubbing your back up and down.

you were now cold and wet too, but that’s how you felt. just so cold and empty- after everything you’ve been through.

“look at me.” he felt you shake your head. “no ‘no’s’. cmon.. please.”

you lifted your head, teary and pink eyes meeting his warm gaze. he gently wiped away a tear with his thumb, and he kissed your forehead. your eyes fluttered shut- remembering the familiar feeling of his lips to your skin whenever you got a nervous or scared.

“you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna. ill wait, okay?” he whispers, and you nod.

he nodded too, before quickly getting something from his jacket. a letter. it was a little bit soggy, but you could tell mike tried hard to keep it nice for you.

“this was at your locker.” he says softly.

you take it, looking down at it. “it wasn’t him, mike.” you whisper, bottom lip trembling.

he frowned, kissing your forehead again.

“i figured. that asshole can’t write shit anyways.” he says in hope to make you smile, and you did.

it was silent, the two of you looking into each others eyes with small smiles. you sighed, looking down at the paper

“i was just so.. confused. and i wanted to go to school, really. mainly to just find out who it was.” you mumble.

“just read it right now.” he suggests.

“now? in front of you?”

“you don’t gotta read it out loud.” he says with a soft laugh. “ill stand here while you read it though.”

you look at him with still some confusion, but mike always left you confused anyways. you opened it, and it was the same as the others. same messy handwriting, the same dark black ink.

"dear y/n,

when i first wanted to do this, i was gonna do this huge reveal and hand you the letter myself. but like always, i got scared. i'm normally not the type of guy to go up to a girl and make a move- and i feel like i'll never be brave enough too. but you make me feel brave, and you made me feel like that these past few days.

it's just the way your so kind makes me feel like that. i know it can be hard with self doubt and all- but your truly the sweetest girl i've ever met. there are many many perks about you. your pretty (very pretty like i said), and so funny, and so kind. i'm glad i got to know you more throughout these years and i'm glad we got to talk. you make me feel warm and fuzzy inside and you don't even try. your just you, and i love you.

yes, i love you. and it's justified since i've known you for so long- but i'm insanely in love with you. i'm in love with your laugh, your smile, your warm eyes, your personality, your touch, everything. i feel like i've already spilled everything i feel about you, yet it doesn't feel like it's enough. so maybe i can't really say it out loud, maybe because i have so much to say yet it's hard for it to come out in words.

but i truly love you, and i always will. and i want to spend the rest of my life reminding you of that, reminding you of everything i've been meaning to say.

love, mike ♡ (ps. come over to my house tonight?)"

the letter itself in the beginning was making tears run down your cheeks, your hands shaking as you held the very own paper that brought some light into your life.

you looked up at mike, seeing him already looking at you with the most nervous expression. his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, and you could feel his fingers shaking around your waist.

"it's been you?" you say in barely even a whisper.

he nods, and you saw the tears in his eyes too. you wipe them away with your thumb, his face resting against your palm.

"it's always been me." he whispers. "since middle school."

your pupils were big, the color of your eyes a thin line of how big you looked at him. you two stood there- soft sniffles filling the living room as he held you, a touch you missed so very much. your lips parted, about to speak.

"you don't have to say anything." he whispers. "i know sometimes feelings arent the same but i just.. i needed to get it out of my chest."

you quickly shake your head, gently pushing his hair back.

"no no mike im not.. i'm not saying no to you. about what you feel or about what i feel." you whisper, "i'm just still so shocked and- and surprised that you did this."

"good surprised?" he whispers.

"very good surprised." you smile shyly. "why'd you decide to do it now?"

he sighed, looking at the paper. his hands were still shaking, and so were yours. you gently held his hand with yours- the shaking starting to stop.

"i guess during valentines day when you didn't get anything." he recalls, "i've always wanted to do something special for you but i think.. i dont know- seeing you upset made me do the thing i did."

"and i was only planning on one letter. but i saw the way you were so happy." he whispers. "happy because of me, because of what i said."

"i wanted and i just.. i needed to see your smile again. especially after everything that went down."

you nodded in understanding, your breath feeling shaky when you let one out after holding it in for so long. you look at the letters again, the sentence of "i love you".

"so.. you love me?" you whisper with the sweetest smile, and he chuckled.

"i think i said that like 10 times in there." he smiles, and you giggle.

your cheek's were a light shade of pink, and he dipped his head to kiss it- only making you blush even more. he peppered your cheeks with kisses, mumbling. "your so pretty."

"you also said that a lot in the letters." you giggled.

"i know." he mumbles.

"your pretty too." you whisper, kissing his nose that you loved so much.

"im still.. so in shock. like, really mike. because i've liked you too for so long and it got so much deeper once i.. yknow. started sleeping at your house. and i-" you started rambling.

"woah woah, wait." you saw his big grin, "you like me too?"

you shake your head, and you saw his smile fade away. you giggle, kissing his cheek.

"i love you." you whisper. "for almost the same reasons why you love me. and it's finally the first time someone likes me."

"same here." he whispers, "there's always a first for stuff. confessions, for.."

you smile, tilting your head. "what are you saying?" you giggle.

he dips his head again, kissing your cheek. "m' saying i wanna kiss you." he mumbles. you giggle again, the two of you silently leaning closer.

your nose brushed against his, and his lips connected to yours. you didn't know what to do at first, since it was your first kiss- and it was his. your arms wrapped around his neck as your lips danced with his, the kiss so tender.

it lasted a few seconds, and you two pulled away. your breath was sort, lips parted as your forehead touched his. you two both breathlessly laugh at the same time, and he pressed a gentle peck to your lips again.

"was i bad?" he whispers with a quiet chuckle.

"it probably was but.. it was perfect to me." you whisper, "was i?"

he shook his head and smiled, kissing your cheek. "couldn't have been more perfect."

you two held each other in silence, and he kissed you again. it was more slow this time, more filled with love you two had for each other. it lingered as it just became deeper and warmer, sighing and smiling into his mouth.

he smiled too, his nose nudging deep into your skin as your lips moved against his. your fingers digged into his hair, and he let out a muffled noise. he kissed you like he already knew how to make you melt, which is exactly what he did. his hand scrunched your shirt from behind, pulling you only closer.

"i love you." he mumbled against your lips, pulling back.

you giggled, your nose gently brushing against his. "i love you too mike." you whispered before he kissed you again. it was unhurried and full of patience, like the patience he had with all those letters everyday.

there were small pauses in between, pauses where you two made sure this was real. that kissing each other like you two yearned for was real. he peppered your lips with many kisses, and you couldn't stop giggling- your cheeks red.

"so you wanted me to come over to your house? what you said in the letter?" you whispered against his lips, feeling like a little girl with a crush.

"well now that we're here.." he smiled, and you laughed.

"by the way, the letters were very romantic. i loved every single one." you say softly, nose brushing against his.

"it's my best work." he smiled.

you giggled, mouth open with a playful shocked face. "so you did this to other girls?"

“no no.” he smiles, his lips already brushing against yours. “it’s always gonna be you.”

he kisses you, and after that- it felt like a dream. he spent the night at your house- cuddling in your bed with quiet giggles and soft kisses. you were home physically, but in mikes arm- you knew that he was it for you.

mike was home, and you never doubted that he was. but you were for certain now, and it all started after a simple letter.

ⓒ velvetciders

@urcutetozier

[velvetciders]

𖦹 in which, when you complain about not getting any valentines, mike takes matters into his own hands. 1k+ words pt. 2 here!

you were pretty sure that out of all the days, this counted as the worst. not that you had a reason to like it anyways, you weren't particularly the one that boys dreamed about- but you couldn't help but feel that pain in your chest whenever you walked into school.

you wanted a boyfriend, sure, because you've never had one. you wanted someone to see you for you, because so far it felt like no one else had. well... minus the party.

as much as you desired this, you were in the hellfire club, which wasn't the best image if a boyfriend was your goal. but it was almost like you had too. it took luck but other than max or el, you were the last girl remaining in the group. everyone liked you- but you were closest to mike.

after all, mike was the one who practically went on his knees begging eddie to let you join.

"well, there's some luck next year," dustin says as he slams his packed locker.

"dude we'll be seniors, pretty sure no one's gonna waste their valentines on us." mike says, his eyes trailing to you when you appeared.

"oh hey." mike says, his voice gentle. it was always, always gentle with you- and neither of you two knew why. "you must've gotten something. what'd you get?"

you shrug and brush it off like you always do. “it’s the same every year, it’s bullshit honestly.” you scoff, the lies coming out of your mouth tasting bitter.

“it is bullshit, thank you.” mike agrees, “eddie has never gotten one and he’s perfectly fine, right?”

his smile was weak, and dustin rolls his eyes, "eddies been here for 6 years." he says and walks off with a scowl on his face.

mike sighs, turning back and eyes meeting yours. “okay, now you can tell the truth.”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, eyebrows furrowed, stepping back defensively even when you didn’t know what he meant.

he shakes his head and chuckles, stepping closer to you. “cmon. you think im gonna believe you didn’t get a valentines? didn’t you say that oliver guy liked you a few months ago?”

“it’s tom, and it- he never really did.” you say with a smile so small. “and im actually being serious... i didn’t get one.”

“and it sucks mike. like i just- i see everyone around us experiencing it. what makes my life so… different?”

your voice sounded quiet, insecure. it’s not like you could ever be ashamed of something like that in front of him- but it was hard to feel vulnerable. mikes smile faded just a little bit, but it was still hopeful.

“oh.. well-” he starts off with a shaky voice, “everyone at this school are total assholes anyway. your better than them.” he says the last sentence with a whisper.

you knew mike to be a smart guy, but not smart at comforting people. he was always quiet, awkward when someone showed emotion- but he always tried for you.

you see his hopeful and convincing smile, and you can’t help but reciprocate it. you nod and tighten your backpack. “yeah. total assholes.”

———————————

the next day was like no other. stupid assembly's in the morning, loud jocks throwing god knows what to each other in the hallways, and worst of all- the couples you saw round and round.

before the bell could ring, you bolted to your locker. that's when you saw it.

the white, coffee-stained, envelope that was peeking through the slits at the top of your locker. you grabbed it- the envelope consisting of no name. just blank.

you delicatley opened it, only because this letter at your locker must've been a mistake. one that you can't go back too. the handwriting was dainty and small, black ink showering the whole page.

"dear y/n,

happy valentines day! i know i'm a little late for this but i was just really nervous to give this to you, so sorry. i like you, and i've actually liked you for a long time actually (since middle school). pretty sure i love you. i sometime's hear you in the hallways complaining about boys and all, but i really mean it when i say i like you. there's many things to like about you so you shouldn't feel the way you feel. your perfect. seriously, and i know that must come out really corny but for me your perfect. maybe my words wont help much, but at least i got some of it out. one day i'll soon build up the courage to tell you all this in person, but for now, i'll stick to the letters.

from, anonymous (ps.. you looked really pretty in your yellow outfit yesterday, they suit your eyes ◡̈)"

if it wasn't for the bell ringing through the school, you swear your feet would've been glued to the ground. this letter was for you. your name, your outfit, your secret admirer. yours and only yours.

your cheeks were pink as you hid your face in your locker, shoving the letter into your bag. you couldn't stop smiling, not knowing if that was a good thing. it could've been a prank, right? and letters? plural? this boy was planning on writing more?

but who would spend the effort to write a letter to you if they thought you were just an oppressed loser? certainly not a guy who complimented your outfit when no one else did.

---------

"whats with you?" dustin asks when you sit at the lunch table with a wide smile.

"nothing?"

"your smiling"

"i cant smile?" you say with a soft laugh. and dustin saw it. the little piece of paper sticking out the sleeve of your backpack. he snatches it, earning a protest from you.

you froze as you watched dustin scan through the paper. "you got this? from where?"

your cheeks turn red as you watch the paper get passed along the table, the letter finally reaching to mike.

"i really don't know it- it was just in my locker this morning. but it was for yesterday, and... shit i don't know. do you guys recognize the handwriting or like.. if someone would do this?" you say, sounding embarrassed. but you were far from being embarrassed.

they scan through the paper in silence, before shrugging.

"it looks familiar but eh, i don't know." eddie suddenly says before slumping back into the chair.

the guys voices and observations continued as they passed around the letter- pointing out every flaw and mistake. mike was sitting next to you, and he nudged his shoulder with yours.

“it’s about time someone said this to you.” he said in a quiet voice, only meant for you.

your cheeks felt warm, and you couldn’t help but bashfully smile. “thanks mike” you say in a soft voice.

“do you think it’s oliv- i mean tom?”

you sigh, looking ahead towards the cafeteria to see if you could spot your suspect. “i mean.. i don’t know. wouldn’t he just say it’s him? or maybe he just doesn’t like me anymore, like i said.” you shrug.

“he has to like you.” he grabs the paper and observes it again. "wow. he really likes you."

"shut up." you mumble shyly and snatch it from his hand. "it's not that big of a deal, i don't.. i don't like him anyway. he's not my type."

mike's eyebrows lifted and moved around like they always did. his lips parted, looking at the letter. "oh. well then he- maybe it's not him. maybe just wait till the next letter."

you nod, biting your nails. he gently grabbed your hand and placed it down- knowing you've had that nasty habit since the upside down. you gave him a small smile as you grabbed the letter.

as the chatter continued with the guys, it drowned into your ears. you looked at the letter- only knowing there was nothing else to do but wait for tomorrow.

Ⓒ velvetciders

[loserwheelers]

⊹₊⟡⋆ closer

| mike wheeler x fem!reader

𑣲 synopsis : a freezing night forces you into mike’s arms, where warmth comes wrapped in sharp words and bruising intimacy. comfort and cruelty blur until you can’t tell if he’s holding you together or quietly breaking you.

𑣲 warnings : aged up!mike, explicit sexual content, degradation kink, rough sex, possessive behavior, verbal degradation, dubcon tones, emotional confusion, toxic dynamics, one bed trope

𑣲 from the author : thank you so much for 200 followers!! i'm working on my reqs rn so keep the asks comingg

✶♫⋆ closer by nine inch nails

you’re freezing.

you knew coming to the wheelers’ cabin for the weekend meant dealing with faulty heating and drafty windows, but you didn’t expect it to be this cold. you’re shivering under two thin blankets, teeth cherring loudly enough to wake the dead. or at least, wake the person sleeping on the mattress right next to you.

mike.

the arrangement was simple. one room, two beds. or so you thought. when you arrived, mrs. wheelersheepishly explained that the hinge on the fold-out couch had snapped, leaving you with one queen-sized mattress and about zero dignity. now, you’re lying there, trying to take up as little space as possible while radiating pure misery.

you hear a heavy sigh from the other side of the bed. the rustling of sheets stops, and then you feel the weight shift as mike rolls over.

“can you stop shivering?” his voice is low, thick with sleep, but there’s that familiar sharp edge to it. the one that makes your stomach twist. “you’re shaking the whole bed.”

“sorry,” you whisper, pulling the covers up to your nose. “it’s just really cold.”

“it’s not that cold,” he grumbles. you can hear the skepticism in his tone. “you’re being dramatic.”

you bite your tongue, resisting the urge to snap back. it’s always like this with him lately. he’s distant, prickly, acting like you’re an inconvenience he’s forced to tolerate rather than someone he used to be close with. it hurts, more than you care to admit, but you’d rather freeze to death than give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

you squeeze your eyes shut, willing your body to just stop trembling. it doesn’t work. a violent shudder racks through your frame, and you let out a pathetic squeak.

mike groans, annoyed. “god, you’re impossible.”

suddenly, the warm weight of the comforter is lifted off you. your eyes snap open just as mike yanks the blanket away from you and bundles it up on his side.

“mike! what the hell?” you hiss, sitting up. the air hits you instantly, and you wrap your arms around yourself. “give it back.”

“come here then,” he says, his voice flat. he’s lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, looking at the ceiling with an expression of bored irritation. “if you’re going to complain about it all night, just get over here.”

you hesitate. you know this is a trap. if you get close, he’ll just say something mean. he’ll make some comment about how clingy you are or how you take up too much space. but the alternative is turning into a human popsicle.

cursing under your breath, you shuffle across the mattress until you’re close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. he doesn’t move to help you, doesn't lift the blanket to invite you in. he just lays there, stiff as a board.

you reach out and tug the edge of the duvet. he sighs, releasing his grip just enough for you to slide underneath. it’s instantly warmer, engulfed in the scent of him—soap, old laundry, and that distinct smell that is just mike.

you lay there stiffly, staring at the dark wall, waiting for him to say something. to make a joke. to push you away.

“you’re like an icicle,” he mutters after a minute. his arm shifts, and you flinch, expecting him to shove you away. instead, he drapes his arm heavily over your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

your breath hitches. his front is pressed flush against your back, solid and warm. you can feel the steady thump of his heart against your spine. it’s so intimate, so confusingly gentle compared to his words, that your head spins.

“mike?” you breathe out.

“shut up,” he grumbles into your hair. his breath ghosts over the back of your neck, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine that have nothing to do with the temperature. “i’m trying to sleep. stop moving.”

you relax against him, despite yourself. his grip tightens slightly, possessive, even though he’s pretending he doesn't care. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his nose cold against your skin but his lips warm.

“you’re annoying,” he mumbles, the words muffled by your hair. “always making everything so difficult.”

you smile into the dark, closing your eyes. “hate you too, mike.”

the heat between you becomes stifling fast. what started as a desperate need for warmth shifts into something heavier, thicker. the air in the room feels charged, electric.

mike’s hand, which had been resting idly on your hip, starts to move. his fingers dig in, pressing bruises into the flesh there, dragging you back harder against him. you can feel him, hot and half-hard, insistent against your ass.

“mike,” you gasp, your heart hammering against your ribs. “what are you doing?”

he ignores you, his breath hot and ragged against the sensitive skin of your neck. he nips at the skin there, sharp enough to make you cry out, then soothes the sting with his tongue. it’s possessive, rough, and entirely unfair.

“you stopped shivering,” he mutters against your ear, his voice dropping an octave. it scrapes against your nerves, sending a jolt of arousal straight to your core. “now you’re just wriggling around. it’s distracting.”

you try to turn over, wanting to see his face, but he holds you in place with an arm banded across your stomach like an iron bar.

“i wasn’t—”

“shut up,” he cuts you off, his hand sliding down from your hip to the hem of your (his) t-shirt. his fingers are cold when they slip underneath, skimming over the bare skin of your stomach. you inhale sharply, your muscles contracting at the shock. “always so fucking difficult. can’t you just lie still?”

his touch is confusing—mean and dismissive, but his hands are exploring you with a single-minded intensity that contradicts his words. he cups your breast through the thin fabric of your bra, thumbing the nipple roughly until it pebbles under his touch. a whine escapes your throat before you can stop it.

“quiet,” he hisses, pinching the sensitive nub hard enough to make tears prick at your eyes. “you’ll wake everyone up. do you want them to hear you acting like a desperate mess?”

you shake your head frantically, biting your lip to stifle the sounds building in your chest.

“good. then be good for once.”

his hand abandons your chest and travels lower, fumbling with the waistband of your shorts. he doesn’t ask for permission; he just shoved them down, along with your underwear, in one impatient, jerky motion. the cool air hits your wet skin, making you shiver, but then his hand is there, covering you.

“god,” he groans, his fingers sliding through your folds. “you’re soaked. you really are a slut, aren’t you? getting off on me being mean to you.”

the insult burns, but it only makes you wetter. you hate how much you like it, how much you crave this version of him that treats you like you’re nothing but a inconvenience he has to deal with.

he circles your clit with practiced ease, applying just enough pressure to have your hips bucking off the mattress. he pulls his hand away immediately, denying you the friction.

“did i say you could move?” he growls. “stay still.”

he’s unbearably hard against you now, grinding his hips into your ass. you hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes his boxers down, and then the blunt head of his cock is nudging against your entrance. he doesn’t prep you further than this. he doesn’t check if you’re ready. he just lines himself up and pushes in, slow and unrelenting.

you gasp, your fingers clutching at the forearm wrapped around your waist. the stretch burns, intense and overwhelming. he pauses once he’s buried to the hilt, his chest heaving against your back.

“fuck,” he breathes, his face buried in your neck. “tight.”

he waits a beat, letting you adjust, but it’s not out of kindness. it’s like he’s savoring the feeling of you clenching around him, proving a point. then he starts to move.

he sets a punishing rhythm, snapping his hips into yours with enough force to make the headboard bang against the wall. you bite down on your hand, trying to muffle your moans, tears leaking out of the corners of your eyes at the sheer intensity of it. it feels so good, bordering on too much, the friction dragging against your insides in a way that makes your vision go white.

“you take it so well,” he pants, his mouth moving against your shoulder. he sounds almost surprised, annoyed even. “like you were made for this. just a warm hole for me to use.”

his words are degrading, filthy, but they send you spiraling toward the edge faster than you want to admit. he reaches around again, his fingers finding your clit with terrifying accuracy. he rubs tight, fast circles, matching the pace of his thrusts.

“mike, please,” you choke out, your whole body trembling.

“i know,” he grunts, his rhythm turning erratic. “i know. come on. cum for me. make a mess.”

the command is your undoing. your orgasm crashes over you violently, your back arching as you convulse in his arms. he fucks you through it, chasing his own release, his grip bruising as he holds you down.

a few thrusts later, he buries himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, spilling into the condom. he collapses against you, heavy and panting, his face pressed into your hair.

for a minute, the only sound in the room is your combined breathing, slowing down gradually. the reality of what just happened starts to sink in—the cold room, the mean words, the mind-blowing sex.

slowly, he pulls out, dealing with the condom in the dark. you expect him to move away, to go back to his side of the bed and pretend this never happened. instead, he reaches for the discarded blanket and pulls it back over both of you. he tugs you against his chest again, his chin resting on top of your head.

“go to sleep,” he mumbles, his voice already thick with sleep again. but his arm stays heavy around your waist, holding you close. “don’t make me regret this.”

you close your eyes, exhausted and sated, and let yourself drift off, wondering if tomorrow he’ll go back to pretending he hates you, or if this changes everything.

© loserwheelers

[castiwls]

idk if it's because i love nerds but the thought of riding mike while he yaps about d&d makes me crazy

this just awoken somthing in me 🤭 i too would go crazy for this. He'd be so deep into his rant he'd barely even notice what you were doing at first, hands flying as he explains some sort of rule you don't truly understand but you nod along still, smile bright and innocent like your not tugging down the waist band of his joggers. The moment you sink down his words trail off, eyes going wide in that adorable way that makes your heart skip. "Keep going, i wanna hear."

He stumbles for a moment, one hand gripping your waist as a quiet groan escapes him. It takes a moment but slowly he begins to talk again, every so often a quiet whimper of some sort escaping between words. His eyes locked on yours like you were some sort of higher being.He'd start blabbering faster and faster the close he got, his chest heaving in an attempt to keep his train of thought at the feel of you squeezing him justttt right

[landrysflannel]

can someone write a fic of mike wheeler where he literally can’t breathe without you and he yearns for you but is too stubborn to say it until like the end and maybe some smut like idk 🥹 ALSO BASED ON THIS SONG PRETTY PLESSEEE

like specifically the part where they both say “oh can we brawl about it, can we, can we, brawl about it??”

LIKE VERY ANGSTY PLEASE I BEG SOMEONE ANYONE

[landrysflannel]

PLEASE GUYS IM LITERALLY BEGGINGGGGG YOUUU😭😭😭😭💔💔

[landrysflannel]

can someone write a fic of mike wheeler where he literally can’t breathe without you and he yearns for you but is too stubborn to say it until like the end and maybe some smut like idk 🥹 ALSO BASED ON THIS SONG PRETTY PLESSEEE

like specifically the part where they both say “oh can we brawl about it, can we, can we, brawl about it??”

LIKE VERY ANGSTY PLEASE I BEG SOMEONE ANYONE