em

strangerxxstories on wattpad! 🥥

[mikewheelersbasementt]

em’s masterlist

Finn Wolfhard

-Finn Wolfhard Headcannons

-Drunk Finn Headcannons

Mike Wheeler

-I Trust You

-Hurt

-Ahoy!

Miles Fairchild

-Sorry

Boris Pavlikovsky

-Boris Boyfriend Headcannons

-Facemasks

Richie Tozier

-Teen Richie Headcannons

-Thunderstorm

-Beat Up

-Accidental Kiss

Trevor Spengler

-none yet

Ziggy Katz

-none yet

Requests are open!

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Doing face masks with boris

Face Masks - Boris Pavlikovsky

Pairing - boyfriend! boris x girlfriend! reader

Contents - you force Boris to do face masks.

Warnings - none

A/n - sorry it’s super short.

“This is so stupid,” Boris mumbles, pushing your hands away from his face.

“Come on. It’s not that bad.” You smile, trying to convince him.

“It is.” He insists. “It’s so cold.”

“It’s supposed to be cold.” You reply. “Now come on, stay still.”

“And wet,”

“Boris,”

“And slimey,”

“Shhhh,”

“I came over here to make out. Not to do this.” Boris continues to complain while pouting.

“Please just do this, for me?” You beg. “And your skin.” You add. “It’s scary how dry your skin is. Truly terrifying.”

He pauses, then sighs. “Okay. Fine.” He tosses his arms up in defeat.

You smile. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Boris rolls his eyes, attempting to act mad. But you can see the little smile he’s trying to suppress.

You continue to apply the skincare. Occasionally brushing his dark curls out of his face, trying to ignore the way his puppy eyes are looking at you. Your face flushes, turning pink. Thank God it’s dark in your room, or he would never let you live it down.

You grab the face roller. “Whoa! What’s that?” He asks, flinching back.

“Chill.” You laugh. “It’s not a torture device.”

“Yeah well, you’re torturing me. So, what’s the difference?”

“You’re so dramatic.” You roll it on his face. Over his freckles, his cheeks, above his eyes. You can feel him relaxing into it. “See? Not so bad.” You pull away.

“No. Wait. Don’t stop.”

My Masterlist!

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Drunk Finn Headcannons

Drunk! finn who… doesn’t handle a lot of alcohol well. One time, he got so drunk you had to take care of him to make sure he didn’t get hurt.

Drunk! Finn who… gets quiet after a few drinks. Sometimes he won’t even talk, only a few words here and there.

Drunk! Finn who… gets extremely clingy. He follows you everywhere. He’s not a huge fan a pda, but a few drinks later and he’s all over you.

Drunk! Finn who… becomes sad really easily. He will randomly tear up out of no where, causing you to have to comfort him.

Drunk! Finn who… alcohol makes him sleepy. At first, he has energy for days. Then, two seconds later, you’re having to attempt to carry him to bed.

Drunk! Finn who… comes up with the best lyrics. The ideas just flow out of his head.

Drunk! Finn who’s… eyes dilate in a way, that make them even more puppy like.

Drunk! Finn who… confesses everything to you. Alcohol to him is a truth serum.

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Boris Pavlikovsky Boyfriend Headcanons

Boyfriend! Boris who… pulls you by your belt loops when you try to walk away from him. Because how dare you want to walk away from him after a fight. He thinks it’s so funny.

Boyfriend! Boris who… loves to make you mad. He finds it hot. A lot of the time, he says some dumb shit, just to rile you up. Which is pretty easy to do, since you have a short temper.

Boyfriend! Boris who… is a terrible influence. He’s got you doing so much that you never did before him. Smoking, drinking, stealing, ect.

Boyfriend! Boris who… craves physical touch. This man absolutely craves you. He’s always touching you in some way.

Boyfriend! Boris who… does not understand privacy. You lost all privacy once you got with him. Anytime you are in the shower, he walks right on in. No knock or anything. That is, either to use the bathroom, or even hop in the shower with you.

Boyfriend! Boris who… was your first everything. Like I said, he’s a great influence. You were very inexperienced before him. But don’t worry, he’s a great teacher.

Boyfriend! Boris who… loves to watch horror movies with you. Just like how he loves to see you mad, he loves to see you scared.

Boyfriend! Boris who… is surprisingly good at comforting you. You would think since he was never comforted as a child, he wouldn’t know how. But that could not be farther from the truth.

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

would you ever write aged up Richie stuff? like smut? There’s never any on here tbh lol

I’m sure I will! Let me know if you have any requests on what I should do!

[mikewheelersbasementt]

not even kidding i absolutely need more richie.. theres like nothing for him and u write it SO good

Accidental Kiss - Richie Tozier

Pairing - teen! richie tozier x best friend! reader

Contents - you and Richie share a kiss in the heat of the moment.

Warnings - kiss, Richie and reader being insecure losers

The first time it happened, it wasn’t supposed to mean anything. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself.

It was late and you and Richie were sprawled across his bedroom floor, surrounded by empty soda cans and a half finished deck of cards neither of you were actually playing with anymore. The movie you’d put on had long since turned into background noise.

Richie was laughing about something—something dumb, probably. He always was. His glasses had slid down his nose, and he kept pushing them back up between words, grinning at you like you were the funniest person alive.

“Admit it,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “I would absolutely survive a horror movie.”

“You would trip over your own feet in the first five minutes.” You shot back.

“Wow. Betrayal.”

“Reality,” you corrected, nudging his knee with yours.

He nudged back. “You’re just mad I’d outlive you.”

“In your dreams, tozier.”

There was a pause. One of those weird, quiet ones that didn’t usually happen with you two. The kind where the laughter faded, but neither of you moved away.

You were close. Too close, maybe. You noticed it at the same time he did.

His voice softened a little. “You’d be fine, though. You always are.”

Your chest tightened, just slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, but didn’t look away. “You’re kind of… impossible to get rid of.”

You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling. “Wow. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

Another pause.

And then—without really thinking about it— you leaned in. Or maybe he did. It was quick. Messy. Surprising. And then it was over. You both froze.

Richie blinked at you, like his brain had completely short- circuited. “Uh—”

Silence slammed back into the room, heavier than before.

“I should—” you started.

“Yeah, totally,” said at the same time.

You grabbed your hoodie. “I should go.”

“Right. Yeah. Cool. Going is—good.”

Neither of you laughed. That was the worst part.

You left without saying a word. But your head was spinning with them.

What just happened?

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Ahoy! - Mike Wheeler

Pairing - scoops ahoy! mike x girlfriend! reader

Contents - you give Mike a little surprise at work.

Warnings - kissing, slight dry humping,

Ring!— you press the little bell that says ‘ring for service’.

“Erica!” You hear Mike’s voice yell from the back. “I already told you—” the door flys open, revealing a distressed Mike. He freezes. “Oh, hey.” He smiles, instantly relaxing.

“That’s not a way to talk to a paying customer.” You grin, crossing your arms.

“Number 1, mini Sinclair has been driving me crazy. Number 2, you don’t even pay.” He lists.

“Where’s Max?” You ask, not spotting the red haired girl.

“She just went out on break. Probably getting a hotdog on a stick, or something.” He answers.

You both share a knowing look.

You gasp against Mike’s lips when your back hits a box, knocking it down, plastic spoons spilling out on the floor. “Mike!”

“Shhh.” He whispers into your mouth.

You rip his sailor hat off his head, letting his hair free for your fingers to thread through, throwing it somewhere behind you. He groans as you tug on his hair. You do it again just to hear that sound.

“I’ve been missing you all day.” Mike tightens his grip on your hips.

“Me too.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer.

Mike reaches down, capturing your thighs, and wraps your legs around his waist. Your back is pressed against the wall. He groans when your hips meet his. You can feel the outline of him straining against his pants.

“Mike—” your hips instinctively jut forward.

Mike hisses. He moves his lips down your jaw, then your neck. “Fuck, baby. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“I think I can feel it.” You tease, giggling.

“I can’t help it.”

You grab his face, pulling his lips back to yours. His tongue finds his way into your mouth as you both fight for any type of dominance.

Your hands roam all over his body. His back, shoulders, hair.

“Mike?” I distant voices calls out.

You break apart.

“Mike, where the hell are you?” Max’s voice becomes more clear.

“Shit,” Mike murmurs. He quickly sets you down, trying to compose himself. He searches around for his hat, grabs it, and fixes his hair.

“Hello? Mike?”

“Yeah, yeah. Here I am.” Mike says, walking out of the door and back into the parlor.

“What were you doing back there? I was calling for you forever.” Max rolls her eyes. Just then, she spots you. “Oh.”

“Hey, Max.” You wave awkwardly.

“Oh, now I get it.” She smirks. After a moment she walks into the back. “What the hell did you do in here?!”

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

I love the Richie content! There’s definitely not enough of it. Keep it up please!

Beat Up - Richie Tozier

Pairing - teen! richie x girl best friend! reader

Contents - You clean Richie up after he got in a fight for you.

Warnings - Mentions of blood. Slightly suggestive. 

A/n - More Richie for you all, since you’ve been loving it!

“Sorry. I know.” You apologized as Richie hisses when the alcohol soaked washcloth, you used to clean his cuts, came in contact with his forehead.

Some random guy at school made a rude comment about you. Next thing you know, Richie is shoving him down. Punches are thrown from both party’s. Richie did a great job, considering he’s not really the strongest guy. But he definitely didn’t walk away unharmed. He has a busted up lip and bruises everywhere. He protested about you cleaning him up. He claims he could do it himself, but you insisted.

You had been best friends for years, and you had never seen him act that way. Sure he’s always been a little protective over you, but this was just a whole new level.

“Rich, why’d you do that?” You sighed, wiping the blood from his lip. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

“That guy had it coming.” He states. “No one should talk to you like that. And besides, it doesn’t hurt that bad.”

You press the washcloth back on the cut. Richie can’t hold in the groan that slips past his lips.

“You were saying?” You grin.

Richie’s head is thrown back against the bathroom mirror. His neck was on full display. It had a few bruises from the fight. Your cheeks reddened at the thoughts that flashed in your mind.

To be honest, you’ve always had a little crush on Richie. When you were a kid, it was just innocent little feelings. But now since you’re much older, and Richie had grown into his features, it’s anything but little. Or innocent. But you do your best to push those feelings down, because there is no way he liked you back in that way. Right?

Once the sting settles down, Richie lifts his head back up to meet your flushed face. “What?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

Those damn eyebrows.

You shake your head, trying to focus again. But it’s so hard with his messy hair and puppy eyes. You clear your throat. “Nothing.” You say, not finding his eyes. “Alright. Anywhere else you got hurt?”

“Um, yeah. I think he got me pretty good around my ribs.” He replied.

Shit. Of course he did.

“Well, let’s check it out.” You carefully lift up his shirt, and low and behold, there are three red bruises littered across his abdomen and chest. You fumble around, trying to clean them off, but his shirt keeps getting in the way. 

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to take my shirt off?”

You freeze. When you remember how to breathe again, you shallow. “Um, yeah. You’re probably right.”

Chill. You’ve seen him shirtless many times. It’s not a big deal. But why does it feel so different this time?

You grab the edge of his shirt as he lifts his arms up, allowing you to pull it off with ease. He has the faintest outline of abs, subtle but they’re there. Just focus on the task at hand. You gently press the cloth to the fresh bruises. “That okay?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “All good.”

It’s silent for a moment as he watches you. “Are you hot?”

“What? No. Why?” You ask confused.

“Then why are your cheeks so red?” He questioned.

He gasps. “You’re blushing!” He says excitedly, like he just solved a mystery.

“I’m not.” You replied defensively, making sure to keep your eyes on his bruises, and not on his face.

“No, I get it. I would blush too.” He smiles smugly.

“Oh, shut up.” You smack him with you hand.

“Ow!”

“Okay, you’re all done.” You place your hands on your hips. “Seriously, don’t get in any more fights. Okay?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Richie rolls his eyes, hopping off the counter, and tossing his shirt back on. “I made you blush.” He teases.

“Shut up.”

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Finn Wolfhard Headcannons

He talks in his sleep. The first time you spent the night with him, he about scared the shit out of you. He also kicks in his sleep.

Extremely clingy. He is always glued to your side. Around people, not so much, unless it’s someone you are both really close to. Other than that, when you two are alone, good luck finding space. It’s super cute though.

Loves to make out. You were each other’s first kiss, so it took a little bit to get used to it. You both didn’t really know what you were doing. But now? It’s literally his favorite thing ever. Your fingers in his hair. One of his hands on your waist, and the other on the back of your neck. It’s heaven.

His friends are your friends. It’s kind of always been that way, since you have been friends for many years before getting together. You love all his friends, and they all love you.

Likes to play with your hair. He tried his best to learn how to braid it. It’s not the best, but it gets the job done. He often laces his fingers through your hair while you fall asleep.

Makes playlists for you. Music means so much to him, so he loves sharing it with you. One of your favorite things to do together is late night car rides listening to music.

Teaches you how to skateboard. He grew up skateboarding, and you wanted to learn how. A bunch of wipeouts later, you actually got pretty good at it. 

Takes you on trips. He has to travel a lot for work, and he always brings you along if he can. He has separation issues. 

Super respectful. He’s such a gentleman. Any time you two would do anything new, he asks a million times if you were okay. At first, he was literally so scared to touch you. He never wants you to feel uncomfortable.

FaceTimes constantly. If he’s not with you, it doesn’t matter, he’s still there. He will find a way.

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

more Richie Tozier x reader pls!!

Thunderstorm - Richie Tozier

Pairing - Teen! Richie Tozier x Girlfriend! Reader

Contents - Richie sneaks into your room to comfort you during a thunderstorm.

Warnings - None

A/n - Thank you so much for the request! I hope you like it!

It’s nighttime and are sitting in your room, nose in a book, trying to keep your mind off the storm that’s raging outside. For as long as you can remember, you’ve always been afraid of storms.

When you were young, a tornado ripped through your home. Back in the summer of 1989, Pennywise used this trauma against you. Even though he’s now gone—thanks to you and your loser friends—stormy nights like this bring the memories back.

The sound of someone knocking against your window makes you jump. You push your blanket off your lap, shutting your book, and walking over to the window.

Pushing open the curtains, you see your boyfriend, Richie. “What the hell, Richie?” You quickly pull him inside.

He’s dripping all over your carpet floor, shivering slightly. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

“Rich,” you start, going to your bathroom to find a fresh towel. “Are you crazy? It’s pouring outside. You could have gotten hurt.”

“Thanks.” He says, taking the towel and wrapping it around himself.

You open up each of your dresser drawers. “Shit, I know I have some somewhere.” You mumble, searching through the heaps of clothes. “Ah ha. Here they are.” You say, passing him a shirt and a pair of sweatpants that he had left.

He takes them, quickly changing out of his soaking wet clothes and into the warm dry ones. Taking the towel to wipe the rain droplets off of his glasses.

“Hey.” He says softly, with a smile of his face, going to wrap his arms around you from behind.

“Hi.” You say back, giggling. “You better be glad you didn’t get stuck by lightning.”

“You worry too much.” He kisses the top of your head.

“But seriously, if my mom finds you, or my dad, you’re as good as dead.” You turn around to face him. “Especially, my dad.”

“Oh come on, they love me.” Richie rolls his eyes.

“Uh huh. Sure they do.” You reply sarcastically.

“I’m full of charm.” He gestures to himself. “What’s there not to love?”

“Maybe because of that one time you accidentally sweared at my mom, or that time you broke our window while swinging around a baseball bat, or that time my dad walked in on us making out, or—”

“Okay! Okay, I get it.” Richie cuts you off. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes. But still, I’m a good guy.”

“Yeah, I know you are. And my parents are up tight pricks.”

He nods. “Got that right.”

“Alright, but really, you have to stay quiet.” You say. “And please try not to snore. I actually can’t take it. And you will definitely wake them up.” You pull the covers back and climb into your bed, leaving some room for him.

Richie scoffs. “I do not snore.”

“Yes you do.”

“No I don’t.”

“Mhm.”

“Uh uh.”

“Good night, Richie.”

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Teen Richie Headcannons

Acts super confident until you touch him. He can talk a bunch of shit, but even the slightest touch makes him start stuttering. Ok Bill.

Keeps a secret box. He has a box hidden under his bed filled of little things that remind him of you. A candy wrapper you gave him to throw away, a flower you thought was pretty while on a walk, ect.

Loves his hair played with. He will literally grab your hand and place it on his hair, forcing you to scratch it.

Said I love you way too early. He didn’t mean to, it just came out. He didn’t even notice he said it until he saw the look on your face.

Sleeps with a picture of you under his pillow. It’s his prized possession. No one can know about it or he would never live it down. He also still sleeps with a stuffed monkey. But no one has to know that.

Super insecure about his glasses. He hates them with a passion. But everyday you tell him about how cute they make him look.

He loves animals. When you first showed him your cat, you had never seen him so happy.

Is mean to everyone but you. He could be yelling at the losers, then turn to you with the calmest tone ever. All the boys make fun of him for it. But, one time he did raise his voice at you. Never again. He apologized a thousand times.

My Masterlist

[mikewheelersbasementt]

Hurt - Mike Wheeler

Pairing - boyfriend! Mike Wheeler x girlfriend! Reader

Contents - Mike takes care of you after you get injured.

Warnings - blood, kissing

“Alright let’s check this out.” Your boyfriend, Mike, speaks in a soft tone, trying his best to keep you calm. Earlier, you were in the tunnels with Lucas when a demo snatched up the kids. As you were trying to protect them, it slashed your stomach right open. Now you sat on the bathroom counter, your shirt soaked in blood.

“Is it okay if I take this off? So I can get a better look at it?” He asks kindly, his fingers lightly holding the bottom of your shirt.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You nod.

Mike slowly pulls up your shirt, careful not to hurt you. You lift up your arms so he can pull it all the way off. Now your bra is right on display. If it was any other guy, you would feel embarrassed and uncomfortable. But not with Mike. He never made you feel that way.

His eyes automatically widen at the site of the bloody gash. “It’s not that bad.” He reassured—mostly to himself. You go to look at it but he stops you. “No, no, no. Don’t look.”

“I thought it wasn’t that bad?”

“It’s not.”

You hiss as Mike begins to dry up the blood.

“Sorry. Sorry. I know it hurts.” He apologies.

“Alright, now I have to clean it, okay? It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, but you’re tough.” He warns as he pours some rubbing alcohol on a towel. ”Do you want me to countdown? Or do you want me to just do it?”

“Just do it.” You say, looking up at the ceiling. “Oh, fuck!” You yell the second the towel comes in contact with your body.

“I know. I know. Almost done. You’re so strong.”

You sigh in relief when he takes the towel off. “Oh, shit.” You mumble as the pain subsides.

“You good?” Mike wraps gauze all the way around your stomach.

“Yeah.” 

For a few seconds, neither of you say anything. The gravity of the situation settling in.

“You could have died. And I wasn’t there to help you.” Mike says looking down.

“There was nothing you could do, Mike.”

“I should have went with you. Because then maybe you wouldn’t be like this.”

“Mike, I’m okay.” Mike’s eyes are still on the ground. “Mike, look at me.” He looks up to find your eyes. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

Mike suddenly closes the distance, attaching his lips to yours. His hands cupping your face. It took you by surprise, but you quickly melted into the kiss, hands gripping onto his jacket. He put everything into the kiss, like he was savoring the fact that the you were still here, still in his arms.

Finally, only because of the lack of air, you both pull back. Foreheads still connected. “I love you.” He breathes out.

“I love you too.” 

My Masterlist



[mikewheelersbasementt]

Guys, I just read Talk to me dirty; talk to me sweet. Help I’m obsessed. I NEED chapter 12! Also, what are some other Byler fanfics that y’all would suggest?

[mikewheelersbasementt]

I Trust You - Mike Wheeler

Pairing - Virgin! Mike x Virgin! Harrington Reader

Contents - You and Mike are each others first times

Warnings - protected p n v, mutual virginity loss, fingering, use of y/n a couple times, lowkey awkward but really sweet, Mike wheeler is whipped

Being Steve Harrington’s sister always meant calling your boyfriend to tell him he won’t be there. You love Steve, but he can be severely over protective. So anytime he’s not home—ring!

“Hey Mike, it’s y/n.” You speak into the phone with a smile on your face. You’re twirling the phone cord around your finger. You’ve been in a relationship with Mike for over a year, and he still gets you all giggly.

“Hey, what’s up?” His voice comes through the speaker. You can’t see him, but you know he’s smiling too.

“Steve’s not here. You wanna come over?” You ask, hopeful.

“On my way.” Mike says before hanging up the phone. You have him wrapped around your finger.

A few minutes later, you hear the knock on the front door. To Mike’s delight, since you’re home alone, he doesn’t have to use your window.

You open the door and bring him upstairs to your room, pulling him by his hand.

You two have made out before, hundreds of times to be honest, but this time it feels different. Not bad different. Just heavier. It’s more passion filled. I mean, Mike is grasping onto the hem of your shirt like he’s trying to keep himself from ripping it off.

You catch this and pull away. Mike searches your face, wondering why you stopped.

“You can take it off if you want.” You tell him softly.

Mike’s eyes go wide. “What?“ He asks, wondering if he heard you correctly. You see, Mike is a nerd. He’s a handsome nerd for sure. And you are a popular girl. Most people don’t get your relationship. A nerd and a cheerleader is a crazy match. Mike still sees himself as a loser, so you telling him he can take your shirt off, is something that he never thought he’d hear.

“My shirt.” You answer.

“Oh.” He take a second like he’s still processing what you said, before a huge grin forms on his face, and he starts pulling up on the fabric. He pulls it over your head to reveal your pink lace bra. Mike stares at your chest before realizing he is, then reattaches your lips.

“Are we sure we want to do this?” He asks, breathlessly against your lips.

“I am.” You nod. “Are you?”

“God, you have no idea.” He chuckles, his forehead leaning against yours.

You chuckle back. “I want you to be my first.” You confess, intertwining your fingers with his.

With this, Mike kisses you slowly, guiding you to lay down on your back. He moves his lips along your jaw, down to your neck, careful not to leave any marks or Steve would kill him. Then, to your collar bones, and the top of your breasts—his thumbs rubbing loving circles on your hips the whole time. Along the way, Mike’s sweater finds its place on the floor by yours.

His fingers brush over the button of your jeans. His eyes find yours, pupils blown wide. “Can I?” He asks. His eyes are practically begging you like a puppy.

You nod eagerly, unable to deal with the throbbing of your core from not being touched.

He undoes the button, pulling the jeans over your hips, down your legs, and off your body. He stops at the hem of your panties, asking the question again.

“Please, Mike. I need it.” You say.

Mike’s face flushes at the neediness in your tone. He slowly pulls down the piece of fabric, making sure to take his time.

Now you are completely exposed to him. You instinctively shut your legs in embarrassment, but Mike is quick to reassure you.

“Holy shit, baby you’re so pretty.” He gently spreads your legs apart. His face lowers closer to your heat. “Can I?”

“Mike, I trust you.” You say.

Mike looks up at you from in between your legs, peeking through his lashes. He smiles and kisses the inside of your thighs.

Right before you think you’re gonna feel his mouth on your most sensitive spot, he trails kisses all the way back up to your lips.

You sigh. “Mike,”

“Patience.” He tells you.

But finally, the wait is over as you feel Mike’s fingertips graze your clit. He moves them in small circles, carefully watching your face to see how you react. Carefully, he finds your entrance and slowly slides a finger in, adding a second one shortly after.

The feeling is euphoric. Yeah, you’ve touched yourself before, but this is way different. Mike’s fingers are way longer than yours. He’s able to hit the perfect spots that make you see stars.

You get close pretty fast. Mike can tell because he speeds up his movements. You pull him down in a passionate kiss as you fall apart.

You reach for his belt, tugging on it, desperately trying to get it off.

“Here, I got it, I got it.” Mike stands up, pushing his pants down. He reaches in the back pocket, pulling out a little foil packet, then taking off his boxers.

You feel yourself getting a little nervous, but you’ve never been so desperate for anything in your whole life. You need him.

Mike crawls back on top of you, kissing you deeply. “You ready?” He asks softly.

“Yes.” You breathe out in between kisses.

“Tell me if you want to stop.” He instructs, sweetly.

You kiss him hard, as you feel him slowly enter. He pushes in slowly, then pausing, searching your face for any sign of discomfort. When he finds none, he inches in more.

The stretch is only painful for a moment, before fading into pure pleasure.

Eventually, he bottoms out, taking a second before starting to move.

Your voices mingle in sounds of pleasure. Mike can’t help but let out low grunts from how perfect you feel around him.

Your fingers grasp at the skin of his back, trying to ground yourself.

He peppers kisses all over your face, neck, and chest. “Fuck, you’re doing so good. So good.”

“Mike!” You moan out as he hits the perfect spot inside you.

He makes sure to constantly hit that spot, making you arch into him.

Both of your highs approach quickly. Building and building.

When your climax hits, everything around you stops. All you can feel is Mike. All you can think about is Mike. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer.

Mike follows shortly after. He groans, his head dipping into your neck, fucking you both through your orgasms. 

He collapses on top of you when your highs fade away. He wraps his arms around you, still connected.

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

My Masterlist



[mikewheelersbasementt]

Sorry - Miles Fairchild

Pairing - Miles Fairchild x Fem! Reader

Contents - You and Miles get in an argument, and he knows just how to make it up to you.

Warnings - Angst, making out, dry humping

A/n- this is my first time posting on tumblr. It’s also my first time writing smut, so please tell me how I did!

Tonight, it starts like most of your arguments do. Small.

You're sitting in the living room, homework spread across the coffee table, when he walks in and makes a comment. Something sarcastic. Something unnecessary.

"You're still working on that? He says, glancing down. "It's not even hard."

You look up at him, already tired. "I didn't ask for commentary."

He rolls his eyes. "I'm just saying."

"That's the problem," you reply. "You're always just saying things that hurt."

He freezes, then scoffs. "You're being dramatic."

That word snaps something in you. "I'm not dramatic," you say, standing up. "You're just rude sometimes, and I'm tired of pretending it doesn't bother me."

Miles' jaw tightens. You recognize the look immediately—the one he gets when he feels cornered. His shoulders tense, like he's bracing for impact instead of listening.

"Why do you always turn everything into a fight?" He snaps.

Your chest tightens. "I'm not turning it into anything. I'm telling you how you make me feel."

"Well, maybe you're too sensitive." He fires back.

That one hurts.

The silence that follows is heavy, pressing down on both of you. You can tell for a split second, that he regrets it. His mouth opens, like he might take it back.

But Miles has never been good at backing down. "Whatever," he mutters instead. "I don't have time for this."

He turns and storms out, his footsteps echoing down the hall before a door slams somewhere far away. The sound reverberates through the mansion, sharp and final.

You stand there for a moment, stunned, before sinking back into the couch. Your throat burns, but you refuse to cry. Not here. Not over this.

Eventually, you retreat to your room and close the door, leaning against it like it might keep everything else out. The mansion feels too quiet now. Too empty.

Minutes pass. Then an hour.

You replay the argument in your head, wondering if you pushed too hard, if you should've chosen your words differently. living with Miles means constantly walking the line between honesty and explosion.

You're lying in your bed when you hear it—soft footsteps outside your door.

They pause.

Then a knock.

It's quiet. Careful. Nothing like the way he slammed doors earlier.

You don't answer.

The door opens slowly anyway, and in Miles steps inside like he's afraid you might vanish if he moves too fast. He looks different now—no sharp edges, no arrogance. Just tired. Guilty.

"Hey," he says softly.

You turn your head but don't sit up.

He closes the door behind him and stands there for a moment, clearly unsure of what to do with himself. Then he walks closer and sits on the edge of your bed, hands resting on his knees. "I shouldn't have said that," he admits. "Any of it."

You stay quiet.

"I get mean when I'm angry," he continues, voice low. "And I hate that about myself. I hate that I do that to you."

That gets your attention.

He glances at you, eyes searching your face. "I didn't mean to walk out. I just... didn't trust myself not to say something worse." He reaches for your hand, but hesitates halfway. When you don't pull away, he laces his fingers through yours, holding on like it steadies him. "I hate when we fight."

"I just want you to be nicer to me," you say quietly. "I don't like to feel small."

Before you can say anything else, he shifts closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. It's not smooth or confident—it's needy. Clingy. "I'm sorry," he murmurs into your shoulder. "I really am."

He doesn't let go right away. His arms stay firm around you, his head tucked against yours, breathing, steadying as if he needs the contact to calm down.

"I'll do better," he says. "I promise. I don't want to be the person who hurts you."

You relax into him, resting your forehead against his shoulder. "Just talk to me next time. Don't shut me out."

He nods. "I will," he says while peppering kisses on your neck.

Immediately you feel a change in him—as if a switch went off.

“Let me make it up to you.” He whispers not even backing up an inch from your neck.

“Miles-” you try to protest.

“Shhh,” he shushes. “I got you.”

With that, he attaches his lips to yours in a slow but deep kiss.

You know you shouldn’t forgive him so fast, but you can’t help it. It’s like your body is working separate from your brain. You can’t help but give in to the way he holds you.

It quickly becomes heated. You eagerly kiss him back, tangling your hands in his unruly hair.

You gasp when he grabs ahold of your waist and swiftly pulls you unto his lab, making you straddle him. You pull away from his lips, looking down at him. This position gives you the perfect view. His pupils dilated, lips pink and swollen, and his cheeks ever so slightly flushed.

He brings your head back down, capturing your lips with his. One of his hands is placed at the small of your back, rubbing sweet circles with his thumb, while the other is gripping at your hip.

You move slightly to get more comfortable, which makes him let out a low groan. This gives you the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, that he excepts graciously.

You can already feel him under you, so you move, desperate to hear his beautiful sounds again.

You kiss him even harder, swallowing every grunt he makes. Each one sending a bolt of desire straight to your core.

Miles moves his lips to your neck, leaving a trail of pretty purple spots—that you will scold him for in the morning—swiping his tongue over each one.

You can tell he’s close by how desperate he’s getting. Each kiss is deeper, every rock of his hips are harder, and his sounds are louder.

Suddenly, his hips sputter and his head falls forward into the crook of your neck, and a gasp followed by—what can only be described as a whine—falls from his lips.

“Fuck,” he mutters, muffled by your neck.

“Miles, did you just come?” You ask teasing, but you already know the answer.

“Shut up.” He says, but there is no harm behind his words, just embarrassment.

“And I thought you were supposed to be making it up to me.”

He finally lifts his head up. “You think I’m done?”

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