dead by dawn

she/her | horror fics

[rotandguts]

𝖓𝖆𝖛𝖎𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

| 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓𝒔 𝑫𝑵𝑰

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♰      𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒔

♰     𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

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© 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 (𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗅𝗎𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖻𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗌). 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌. 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆.

[rotandguts]

✮ ┄ STOP TALKING DIRTY TO ME

mike wheeler (stranger things) x fem!reader, 

PART 1

summary: your sordid summer affair with mike wheeler continues on, including a chance encounter at the hawkins community pool.

word count: 5.1k

content: 18+ mdni, nsfw, masturbation (f+m recieving), pinv, semi-public, enemies to lovers, fwb-ish, mentions of bullying, slowburn, angst, mentions of absent parents, au starcourt never burnt down lol, eleven and eddie never died, bitchy!mike, also lowkey inexperienced!mike, mike is lowkey slut shame-y also.

A/N: BOTH CHARACTERS ARE 18 IN THIS, SET AFTER GRADUATION!!!!! this part is shorter than the last one but my god the angst is there. pt 3 coming whenever i can be bothered writing it. very dialogue heavy

publishing date ―  august 4th 2026 |  © rotandguts

✶

As the summer of 1989 continued, the days in Hawkins were not getting any colder. 

But through the unrelenting heat, Scoops Ahoy quickly acclimated to the ebbs and flows of the demands of its customer base. Some days were unpredictably swarmed and others, totally dead.

The same could be said about the two overworked teens that staffed the ice cream parlour for the majority of the time, who after weeks of making anyone unlucky enough to approach the front counter feel uncomfortable with their constant bickering, had finally learned to control their snark.

Or rather, they had at the least made it a little bit less obvious to anyone.

Gone were the days of glasses being pelted at heads, or backing each other into the freezer to berate them. No longer were insults hurled with a grit of the teeth or said behind each other's backs the second they got a minute away from them lest the fight escalate.

It had become a part of your tacit understanding, that any criticisms should be said downright, provoking even. Whether this meant they were whispered into ears, or said while backs were turned at the front counter, or even under the guise of being called to the employee area behind the glass window - so long as only both of you could hear. 

This way, it could be dealt with accordingly after the shift had ended. Usually, as soon as the front shutter hits the ground.

No surface was safe from either Mike or yourself being spread against it, a mess of gangly limbs clinging to each other with an almost venomous passion.

Previously, each drive to work had a dread filled one, with you preoccupied with how miserably antagonistic your shift would be. 

This had now turned into a journey filled with giddiness at the prospect that there would be new things to rile each other up over.

It was all so… exciting. 

In fact, while you would never admit this outloud, you could almost say that you looked forward to coming into work and seeing Mike now.

The perverse fluttering in your stomach as you walked through the employee corridor and into the Scoops Ahoy back room, only to find him standing there already, felt intoxicating. 

Just looking at each other for the first time each day, with the hint of a small smile - almost smirk - on both of your lips, like you were both privy to the world’s biggest secret, made all the hours waiting for the shift to end worth it.

Sometimes, if the place was a real ghost town, then an insult would be openly thrown with no real bite and instead of even attempting a comeback - the result would be a messy make out session plastered against the back room wall, with a hand between each other’s legs. The only thing that could interrupt you both was the sound of the bell being rung, and then it was back to reality like nothing had even happened.

On the days when the girl from the bookstore would come down, with her coy smile and her constant pushing of hair behind her ear, you felt like you were going feral. Mike would lean over the counter with those soft flirty eyes, and offer her a free scoop or two. Finally, you’d had enough.

“Hey, Michael, your mom just called. Something about how you have to urgently pick up your hemorrhoid cream from Melvald’s. She also asked for you to call her back about the herpes, whatever that means?” You shrugged, trying with all of your might to hold back the laugh threatening to escape. 

He turned to you with daggers in his eyes and then immediately forced himself to look back at the girl. “She’s joking.” His hands outstretched as if almost pleading with her to believe him.

It was too late. Your performance had convinced her. 

“You should call her back, I’ll see you around, Mike.” The girl politely but awkwardly smiled, a scrunch of the brows in barely hidden disgust.

“You fucking bitch.” Mike scoffed, turning back to your smug figure as you crossed your arms. “You don’t get paid to stand there and flirt all day.” His eyes flared as if to challenge you, and you just mimicked it right back to him.

Mike didn’t get you back until after closing time, with you now face down spread across the front counter of the store.

“I bet you like this, huh? I bet you like the fact that anyone could walk in any minute and see me fucking you like this.” He grunts. You gasp as he presses you against the counter unforgivingly, both standing there with shorts and underwear hanging around your ankles as his big hands grip your waist.

“We’ve fully locked up shop and the lights are all off, no one can even see us, moron.” You struggle out, pushing back against him. Inner thighs soaked as he slightly shifted the angle of his hips, hitting a spot that made you see white.

“Oh shut up, just play along.” His right hand gathers your hair and yanks on it, eliciting a bratty whine from you from the overstimulation. 

“Fuck, Mike, don’t stop.” He loved it when you said his name like that. No Wheeler, or Michael, or shithead or loser. Just Mike. He’d never thought it was a particularly nice sounding name, but something about it felt so right coming out of your mouth like that.

You could tell you weren’t going to last much longer, and your legs had begun to shake in that cramp-y way where it felt like you were about to convulse.

Mike was close behind you, the feeling of how unbelievably wet and tight you were making him see stars. “You gonna come for me?” He struggled out, his left hand grabbing your ass cheek and then raising it to leave you with a swift SMACK on the same area, and then another. The clenching around him in response, and the cry that joined it was almost too much for him. 

Struggling to nod but desperate to do so, you frantically try to turn around to look at him while your head is held down by the hand that was once tangled in your hair. “Please, Mikey.”

The view of you in what seemed like almost sinful pleasure beneath him caused your name to fall out of his lips in a groan, and with a few final deep hard thrusts he emptied himself into the condom separating him from you. His hand falling to your clit to get you to the finish line.

You cover your mouth to quiet the sob from echoing through the shutters and into the empty shopping mall.

After the first unexpected run in and the promise of another, Mike had made the effort to get condoms at the earliest opportunity. What started with him hastily grabbing a multipack and almost running out the door in an attempt to spare total embarrassment ended with him realising that he was, in fact, an adult now and could just buy them at the counter without the cashier really caring. 

While you were on the pill, he knew that it was unfair of him to assume that he would be your only sexual partner during this last summer in Hawkins. And you were always pretty in school, and popular enough with the boys. Although, the way you fucked him indicated that you were both just as sexually frustrated as each other.

Mike’s long limbs draped on top of you, you lay there both catching your breath, savouring the feeling of the cold counter against your cheek.

For a moment, his nose dragged through your hair and he tried to steady himself again, stopping just behind your ear. His breathing that close while his chest lay on your back felt so intimate, as if to say ‘look at what you’ve done to me again’.

The worst part was that this whole situation you had got yourselves into was actually starting to affect the days off you got. 

You’d be out with your friends, or relaxing at home, and all of a sudden the emptiness would kick in. And then by that point it wouldn’t even matter because you’d be making your way to the Starcourt Mall, pretending you had been shopping or had forgotten something from your last shift. And then an insult would be subtly thrown and Mike would be immediately calling his break to Carl, the owner, and meeting you out back in your car or even in the mall toilets for a quickie or a makeout session.

If your friends or the party were ever there, they were none the wiser. They couldn’t possibly fathom anything else going on other than utter distaste for each other.

Ultimately, whatever twisted thing it had grown into was better than what was happening before. So why bother if it toed the line? You both hated each other. It was just a way to let all that tension go somewhere. 

Why bother even labelling it, infact? You aren’t friends with him, and you have no intention of making it anything serious. 

You tried to convince yourself it was just summer fun. And come college time, you’d be on to bigger and better things. 

The pit in your stomach whenever that thought crossed your mind indicated otherwise.

But even after an intimate moment (like you folded like a deck chair across the counter), it still had to end, and usually after that there was not much speaking involved other than the occasional offer for a ride home or a ‘see you tomorrow’.

—

It was always worse whenever the rare occasion occurred that Carl inserted himself into a shift. At least with just Mike you could say whatever you wanted, especially now that there was some sort of reward. 

But with Carl there, it was like the two of you had to be just oh-so-pleased as punch that you were working your ass off at a minimum wage job. 

Like, if you weren’t immediately grateful for any suggestion or minor contribution he made, he would go out of his way to make Mike or you feel uncomfortable for the rest of the shift. Which of course, only made the bubbling distaste for each other feel worse when it all erupted ten fold as soon as he left.

Carl didn’t really care if you two liked each other. The first week he acted all kumbaya, and then by the end of week 2 he began to stress that as long as the customers didn't feel the tension and the work got done then it didn’t matter much to him.

The lack of time off had also been an issue for you both initially, what with this being your last summer in Hawkins with your friends before college, and it seemed like literally everyone else had a kind of normal but busy work schedule.

But when you went to Carl with the issue, it was all “Think about the Money!” or “Kids your age would kill for shifts as good as these!”. Buh-bye summer social life.

So, when Carl came in this week to shadow you both on a random Thursday, disappointment wasn’t enough to explain how you felt. For one, his very presence didn’t exactly encourage any tense sexy thoughts between Mike and you with his balding head, thick rimmed glasses and sailor uniform clearly too small for him constantly in your field of view at all times. 

“Can’t wait until he gets the fuck out of here so we can just get back to normal.” You mutter to Mike as Carl vamped up while serving at the counter, telling you to watch closely as ‘this is how service was supposed to be carried out’.

“You just can’t wait to take advantage of me as soon as our manager leaves, perv.” He smirks.

“Oh you wish. As if I’d ever touch you.” Mike could only scrunch his face in response to your blatant lie.

Thus began you practically counting down the minutes until close, hoping that Carl would see that everything was working fine for this week and quite frankly, fuck off.

To your horror, he stayed until the bitter end, ensuring the close was done to a high quality.

“Well gang, I just want to say a massive thank you for your service today - what a great day!” Carl clapped his clammy palms together, you stared in bewilderment that a man who had done so little physical activity all day could be so sweaty.

“It’s really no issue-” Mike started, only to be immediately shushed by the older man.

“And I think, to commemorate your work all summer holding down the fort, you’re both due a day off tomorrow.”

Your heart sunk at the announcement. You should be leaping for joy at the prospect of not having to come into this shithole on a sunny Friday. “Why?” The word fell out of your mouth without much thought, but it looked as though Mike didn’t necessarily disagree with you asking it.

“What do you mean? It’s a free day off!” He grinned back at you both, fake pearly whites in full display. You were entirely unconvinced.

“What’s the catch?” 

“No catch - kinda. We’re just aware that you both won’t be available for after summer shifts, and I’m hoping to use it as a training day for our newbies.”

“Oh.” It sounded too good to be true, but could you really complain about a free day off? Especially seeing as your friends were all planning a day out at the Hawkins Community Pool.

Mike stalled, but then eventually, “We’re in.” The air whipped through your hair as you turned to face him. Why the fuck did he think he could speak for you?

“Great! Now listen, seeing as I’m giving you guys a treat - it’s only fair that I get a little something in return, right?” Whomp, there it was - the catch. You couldn’t even speak, it felt like Mike had somehow signed away your life to the devil.

“Well, you see, usually I’d expect my staff to work on after summer, seeing as this wasn’t a temporary post when you signed up for it. So, it’s only fair you guys work everyday going forward. Just think of the extra cash!” Your stomach dropped.

“Jesus Christ!” Scoffing, you almost chase Carl out the door as he backs away from you.

“Amen sister! Well I really gotta go, mouths to feed etcetera. Have a great day tomorrow!” With a slam of the back door he disappeared into the employee corridor, the click-clack of his shoes still somehow audible by the time he was almost out of there.

“What the fuck, Mike? You know what he’s like, how did you fall for that?”

“Hey! I thought he’d maybe just take our tips or something, I didn’t think it would be that! I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, actually.”

“I didn’t realise you were so desperate to get out there during tomorrow’s heatwave and show off your pasty white body.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag from the coat hanger and throwing it over yourself, desperate to get out of here.

“Yeah, well, I bet you’re shitting yourself at the prospect of going one whole day without trying to suck me off. No one in the real world is gonna take two looks at your slutty clothes and take you seriously.” 

“Good one!” Sarcastically grinning, and striking up a thumbs up as you leaned past him to collect your car keys from a counter. He stiffened, maybe thinking this was the moment you would continue your sordid affair, but you relented from breaking.

Backing up to the exit, you called out, “Remember to wear sunscreen, you anemic freak!” with fake concern. Turning your thumbs up into a middle finger at the last moment.

“Oh screw you, you think you-” You slammed the door behind you before you could hear the end.

Fuck Mike Wheeler. You were going to live tomorrow to the absolute fullest. A day totally free of his bitching and whining, for the first time since the start of summer. Bliss.

—

On arrival at the pool the next day, the sky was a beaming clear blue. The heat was roaring, and the place was absolutely packed out. Luckily, Stacy had laid early claim to the best spot for sunbathing, earning a crowd of scowls from the local moms forced to mildly inconvenience themselves and find another place. 

Heart shaped sunglasses sat upon your head as you set up shop, and topped up your suncream. You were finally getting your money’s worth with your red bikini that had been sitting on a hanger in your room all summer.

Sighing, leaning back on the sunbed and taking in the roaring heat on your skin, kind of relishing in the feeling of being cooked alive. 

When you’d gotten home last night, all that was left from your parents was a note that said ‘Dinners in the fridge! Have fun.’ You’d scoffed, as if they even gave a shit that you’d barely get to see them before college.

“Did you see what Monica Smith was wearing last week? ‘85 called they want their neon back.” Stacy snarked, her freshly lacquered nails turning a page in this week’s Seventeen. 

“Good one, Stace.” Anika giggled, they worked together at the country club. You tuned them out, uninterested in their casual bitching.

“No way, look what the cat dragged in.” Stacy dropped the magazine down on her lap, sunglasses whipped off her face.

In walks Mike Wheeler and his friends, laughing to themselves. Your stomach drops.

“He’s totally stalking you!” Elaine announces, arriving back with four fresh blue raspberry slushies from the snack counter. “Oh gimmie-” Monica takes one off of her, and subtly pours a vodka miniature from her beach bag.

“Hey Henderson! C’mere!” Stacy waves him over, you turn to her with wide eyes. “What are you doing? You hate them.”

She waves you down, “That was before graduation. He has some talents that make him very…. Useful.” Whatever the hell that means.

“Hey Stacy, looking good.” Dustin smirks, ignoring his friend's reaction to the blatant flirting. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” She puts her sunglasses back on, keeping them low on her nose and looking up at him through her lashes.

“Gross.” The girl who you recognise as Max Mayfield coughs, Mike and the others try to hold back sly grins.

“Hey Michael.” You say, tight lipped. “Hey.” He tries to avert his gaze to seem uninterested.

For a second, you wonder what his friends think about you. Surely, he has told them about all the arguments, and making each others lives a living hell and such? You can’t imagine you or your friends are popular in their estimations. You feel the heat rise to your cheeks in a sort of shame, exacerbated by the sun rays. 

“If you guys have towels to put down, you’re more than welcome to hang here with us.” Stacy still hasn’t taken her eyes off Dustin, playing with the straw from her slushie with her tongue. 

“I think we might just take you up on that.” Dustin begins to lay his stuff down, as Will Byers scrunches his face in annoyance. 

“I thought you guys hung around Harrington’s pool.” You spoke, not directed to anyone in particular. “Yeah we thought so too. Until his parents picked today to get the pool cleaned.” Max groaned, reluctantly settling her belongings down and peeling off the oversized t-shirt covering her bathing outfit. 

“Such a bummer,” Her boyfriend, Lucas affirmed. You knew him from your classes, he was always nice.

Will procures a beach ball from Max’s bag, Elaine’s face lights up. “No way! I forgot mine, any chance I can join you guys if you’re playing a game of something?”

“Sure, I guess.” Lucas shrugs. She looks delighted. Any other time Stacy and Monica would probably make fun of her enthusiasm, but Stacy is preoccupied with Dustin and now Monica looks like a lost sheep, unwilling to socialise.

In an attempt to remain stoic and ignore Mike’s occasional glances towards you, you stay straight faced. “I can play referee, if you want.”

He lets out a breathy laugh, “Scared of fun?”

“I’m working on my tan.” His eyes scan your body, and you feel all of a sudden too exposed and aware of your lack of clothing. “Right.” 

This was killing you. It was as if it was a censored version of himself. Even a cutting jab at your expense would ease you into him being here rather than this. At least you’d know where you stood just a little better.

The afternoon continued, with the party and Elaine splashing around in the pool. After a while, you’d given up on looking good and joined them in their fun, hitting the ball around and soaking in the water.

During a break in the game, you pulled yourself on the pool side and sat up, with only your feet submerged now. Looking up, you once again notice Mike ogling you. Only this time, you refused to shy away. 

Leaning back, allowing a better view of your breasts and stomach as the water droplets cascaded down, you look him right in the eyes. 

He looked good in there, still lanky and pale but his wet dark features were emphasised against the electric light blue pool water.

Before you could realise what was happening, that all too familiar heat returned between your thighs. Your breathing grew strained, as your mind raced off to imagine scenarios where it was just the two of you in the pool together. The thought of what it would feel like to press up against him underwater, his hands all over you. 

It was too much.

You get up and storm away, muttering an excuse of being too warm to whoever cared enough to listen.

The girls shower room is cold and empty, no one is interested in leaving the pool at this point on  a day like this. You head for the furthest away cubicle and turn on the tap, embracing the ice cold feeling of the water as it pours over you.

Staying in that bliss for a moment and taking in the temporary relief it offered, you failed to notice the sound of wet footsteps against the tiled floors.

The curtain is pulled back, and you shriek at the surprise. “Calm down, it’s just me.” 

Mike stands there, dripping wet, a furrowed look on his brows.

“Get out of here, you anemic freak! This is the girl’s room!” You cover yourself, as if it offered any further modesty from the bikini.

He looks out of place, nervous, but there is still a conflicted darkness that stirs in his eyes. He can’t seem to find the words to respond to you.

You swallow, the water no longer offering comfort. As if Mike could read your mind, he reaches for the tap behind you, and turns it off. 

Standing shivering as a beat passes, the radiant sound of poolgoer’s laughter and splashing outside continues, unaffected by the tense atmosphere in here. You hesitantly study his face, as his eyes flicker to your body.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare at me? Say something, fucking weirdo!” You groan, trying to smack him away halfheartedly.

There was something sick in the back of your mind, something that let you know that you liked the way he was looking at you. You could almost picture him getting harder every time he glanced at you in your undressed state at the poolside. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before.

He followed you in here because he wanted you alone.

“I just think it’s bullshit that you can sit there and flaunt your body in that stupid tiny bikini. You’re going to get the wrong type of attention.” You scoff at him.

“Are you kidding me? It’s only an issue if you sit there and ogle me like you have all day, perv.” He rolls his eyes and lets out a cutting laugh in response.

“Yeah right, not like you’ve been trying to goad me the entire time.”

“It’s a public pool, you moron, I didn’t even know you’d be here today. You could have just looked anywhere else.”

Mike’s face scrunches ever so slightly, aware he was on rough waters. “Yeah, well I bet you’re wet thinking about it.”

“Obviously, dummy. I’ve been in the shower.” Your hands drop to your hips, your last line of defense.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Stuck at a crossroads, you consider scolding him once again and getting the hell out of there. But your body betrays you, and you feel the unbearable heat once again sink down to your core.

“Do you want to feel it?” Your hands reach out to the cubicle walls, showing him your body. Mike gulps, nodding intently. “Too bad, Mike.”

“W-what?” 

Without thinking you sink your right hand into your swim shorts and touch yourself, feeling your wetness coat your fingers. Your body shakes at the feeling, and you struggle to hold back an involuntary moan.

He sees everything. The way your breasts slightly shake at the feelings, the way your chest rises and falls as your breathing turns laboured. The way your left foot rises to catch yourself on the back wall, as your thighs tremble around your fingers.

Licking his lips, “Please let me touch you.” He begs. You shake your head, “No.”

He lets out a little whine and pulls the curtain over behind him. He begins to palm himself through his shorts. “Fuck you, you’re such a bitch.”

You roll your eyes, the insult fueling the fire within your loins.

“You’re such a fucking loser Mike. As if I’d ever touch you outside of work.” You slip your ring and middle fingers inside yourself, whimpering as you do so. “Fuck, feels soooooo good.”

Mike bites his lip, reaches into his shorts and begins to stroke himself.  “I bet you like that anyone could walk in and find us like this. Find you here with me.” He manages, voice stained with want.

Another moan leaves your lips that sounds like a little cry, and you nod. He grins with his eyes closed in a way that looks like he’s holding everything back, his right hand still pleasuring himself with steady strokes from base to tip.

“I don’t think I’d be able to stop even if someone did, even at Scoops.” You whisper, he opens his eyes and catches you looking at the outline beneath his shorts. With a shaking hand, he peels them down and you see his work on full display.

In response, you pull back the triangles of fabric covering your nipples, giving him a full view of your chest. Your fingers work deeper inside of you, as you begin to curl them upwards.

“I think you like that I’m mean to you. I think it makes you feel more powerful when you fuck me.” You admit, unashamedly staring at his length as he uses the leaking precum to lubricate each pump.

“Well- I think you like it when I treat you like shit ‘cos you know no one else would fuck you the way I do.” His breathing is growing desperate as he picks up his pace. Your head falls back to the wall.

He continues, “I think a part of you must hate yourself to let someone treat you like this, and I think you like that I can see past whatever bullshit facade you put up in front of everyone.” You hate that the comment stings, but it doesn’t slow down the eroticism of the moment.

“I think you want to act like this is all some sort of punishment, but you love it too much.” You begin to rub your clit, a strangled cry threatening to spill out. 

“I could say the same about you.” You struggle out, your fingers circle your clit in a burning rhythm, you can feel your lower abdomen start to tighten. 

“I bet you go home and think about me when you touch yourself.” You whisper, you can tell he’s almost there.

“I do, but I bet you do too.” As he says the words, it’s as if the thought alone has pushed him over the edge, a string of expletives fall from his lips as the head of his cock grows red. His arm spasms and hips jerk as he chases that white hot feeling.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

White ropes shoot onto the floor in front of him, some spilling into his hand as his pace slows down. The sight alone brings you there, and you bring your other hand to your mouth to suppress the cry as you keep moving your fingers. 

Overstimulated and still shaking, eyes closed and mouth open in the perfect ‘o’, you allow your body to ride the wave as you feel him staring at you.

As you come to and realise where you are and what you’ve done, the hot shame is unescapable. 

He looks almost as dumbfounded as you. Gone is the feeling of shyness from the first tryst in the Scoops backroom. This time, something is wrong.

‘Um, that was-” Before he gets the chance to finish, you’re fixing your bikini top and charging past him. 

The hot sun burns your skin as if it’s punishing you for what you’ve just done. Your friends are none the wiser, either chatting or playing in the pool with the rest of Mike’s party. After a while, he joins you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him.

“Hey Mike, Stacy was talking about the party at Clark’s house tonight. You down?” Dustin offers, midway through reapplying sunscreen on her back.

“I don’t know. Not my scene.”

“Hey! C’mon Mike, you didn’t even go to the graduation party.” Will protests, taking a break in trying to beat Max in laps up and down the side of the pool.

A part of you willed him to come. To say yes just so you had an excuse to see him again. Another part of you felt so ashamed of how much you’d overshared with him in the showers that you hoped you’d never have to see him again.

“Are you going?” He asks quietly, in a way that only you would be able to hear.

“Maybe.” You finally turn to look at him, red flush obvious on his cheeks still strong from the moments shared before.

“Yeah, man, c’mon Mike! Live a little!” Lucas sneaks up behind Max and submerges her in the water. “Oh fuck off, jerk!” She exclaims back, with no real bite.

“Okay fine, I’ll go.” He doesn’t seem enthusiastic about it, but it earns a cheer from his friends.

“Cool.” You say, in an attempt to sound unconcerning, retreating back to your sun bed beside Stacy.

“Cool.” He replies. 

You hate the way it makes you feel.

[rotandguts]

Idk how you feel about character ai but there's one with danny where you are bridget's best friend and he has a HUGE crush on you

ngl i’m pretty anti ai

[rotandguts]

when do you think the next chapter of August will come out no hurry just curious

going to try and look at this within the next few days and get writing it again!!

[rotandguts]

Your pfp scares me a tad but I fuck with your vibes hard

looooooool thank u!!!! i am a horror fan so definitely a fan of those aesthetics (that’s what this blog got made for originally), even though my fics aren’t very shocking so far lol

[rotandguts]

i miss ur blog sm!! i hope one day you'll return to it when ur ready or if u ever want to :)💗💗

i’m back!!!!! don’t know how long for loooool but trying to motivate myself 🩷🩷

[rotandguts]

*nudges u*

hey!🩷

[rotandguts]

Hey :) just wanted to know if you’d ever continue August? It’s one of the most beautiful pieces of writing I’ve ever read and I’m just kind of invested in what’s going to happen next ^^;

eeeeeeek thank u, yeah hopefully will get this finished eventually just need to work out where it actually needs to go. had a whole story plotted out n then kind of hated it when writing lol

[rotandguts]

hey i really enjoy your previous written fics, I was just wondering if we can expect a part 2 of your august fic? <3

i’ve started rewriting this, really struggling with it tbh cos it just didn’t really flow how i wanted it. kind of back to the drawing board <3

but do want to finish it for sure!!!!!!!!!!

[rotandguts]

pls pls pls just know that u still have us here, waiting and wishing well for u🥺

thank u so much this means sm🥹🥹

[rotandguts]

https://www.tumblr.com/rotandguts/814165723428585472/actually-romantic

This is so insanely good will there be a part two?

honestly maybe yeah!!!! i’ve had writers block for legit the past 3 yrs so don’t hold me to it lol but i do feel rather buzzy about writing about this and am already continuing their story in my mind lol <3 thank u anon

[rotandguts]

✮ ┄ ACTUALLY ROMANTIC

mike wheeler (stranger things) x fem!reader, 

summary: your enjoyment of your summer job in scoops ahoy is tainted by your co-worker mike wheeler, who seems to go out of his way to make your life a living hell.

word count: 6.4k

content: 18+ mdni, nsfw, masturbation (f receiving), unprotected piv, mentions of violence, semi-public, enemies to lovers, fwb-ish, mentions of bullying, slowburn, angst, mentions of absent parents, these bitches love a tussle lol they r a little bit ROUGH with each other, au starcourt never burnt down lol, eleven and eddie never died, bitchy!mike, also lowkey inexperienced!mike

A/N: BOTH CHARACTERS ARE 18 IN THIS, SET AFTER GRADUATION!!!!! helloooooo long time no see. honestly have had the worst writers block for the past 3 yrs so i'm excited to be back having a go at writing stuff! stay tuned for more content.

publishing date ―  april 17th 2026 |  © rotandguts

✶

The first heatwave of 1989 erupted onto Hawkins with no warning, and Starcourt was undoubtedly the epicenter.

Teens in bright neons and loaded all up on hairspray flooded into the mall looking for one place and one place only: Scoops Ahoy, the best Ice Cream Parlour in town (and the only one, so not a tough competition).

Sure, you could go to Melvalds and get a measly milkshake, or even get a few ice pops from Bradley's Big Buy; but why do that when you could pay less than a dollar for the sugar rush that felt better than getting to third base?

And here you are - in the eye of the storm, standing behind the counter dressed in your polyester bright blue sailor uniform, drenched in sweat and praying for this day to just be over.

The line stretched out of the store, and one regular Erica Sinclair just had to keep coming back to test your patience.

When you were urged to get a summer job to save up before heading off to college, Scoops Ahoy wasn’t exactly what you had pictured. But alas, you weren’t geeky enough for the Palace Arcade and didn’t quite carry the pep in your step needed for the GAP, so, off you set sail on the infamous ocean of flavour.

“You are way too old to be trying this trick, Erica.” Sighing as you hand over what seemed like the hundredth sample of the day.

Erica shrugs, “There is a bogus system here, and each summer it is my job to exploit it. I dare you to challenge me while wearing that abomination.”

The owners still didn’t quite get the memo about the tacky outfits, but it didn’t seem to deter any customers on Hawkins’ hot summer days. And hey, free ice cream for you and your friends!

Well, that would help if any of your friends had time outside their own jobs to visit you or had stayed behind in Hawkins for this last summer before college. It all just seemed like you were cast adrift on your maiden voyage and now you were just waiting for the ship to hurry up and sink so you could get the hell out of here. No amount of summer keg parties could change your mind.

This could all be helped if you had good company while at work.

Unfortunately for you, you have Mike Wheeler.

You knew Mike from school - he was in most of your classes throughout the years. And while you never really exchanged words with him, you were more or less friendly with his group. You had been sure Dustin would follow in his pal Steve Harrington’s footsteps and get a job here, but alas, he managed to be the perfect amount of dorky that the Palace Arcade required in their staff.

Before you could even begin to daydream about having Steve Harrington working with you here instead, at least giving you some eye candy to ogle at every shift, your fantasies were rudely interrupted by Mike slamming the window open behind you.

While you liked the company that Mike kept, you only got to experience him in a perpetually pissy mood.

He’d always been snarky, but his ex-girlfriend breaking up with him at the end of last summer had kind of soured his senior year. Now, with the prospect of all his friends splitting up across the country, and her moving to Iceland, he was loathing having to spend his time in the ice cream parlour all summer.

It seemed that rather than blame his parents for refusing to fund his summer schemes, or his friends for getting on with their lives, you were enemy numero uno for also being forced to work with him in this hell of his own making.

“Dude, you need to step aside and let me on the counter. I’m sick of having to mix all this ice cream up back here and the line is way too long for you to be entertaining her.” Mike slammed the refills on the counter, his scowl ever apparent.

“Sure, no worries - I’m sure the customers will really appreciate your winning smile and sunshine attitude.” You grab them and slot them into their spaces under the counter, shaking your head. This exchange happens almost every shift.

Erica lets out a sound in agreement, smirking while taking her time trying the S.S. Butterscotch.

“What the hell are you agreeing for, dipshit?” His patented eyeroll.

“Language, Michael! She’s a kid!” You scold in a hush, not wanting to alert any customers to his attitude.

“Yeah, Michael, watch your tone with me. Don’t you owe me one for like, the five hundred thousand times I’ve saved your ass?” Erica, wide eyed and challenging, leans across the counter. Before Mike can say anything else you interrupt with a SHUSH, pointing your head in the direction of the growing queue.

“Only my mom calls me Michael.” He retreats.

Turning back around, “Erica, please cool it with the samples. We’re too busy now.” You plead. The freshman shrugs, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” You know that’s a promise.

Mike flies out of the doors, bringing the last of the refills with him. You can’t help but sneak a look at him while ringing up whatever order has just been thrown at you.

Maneuvering behind you, his chest lingers at your shoulder. Why did he need to be towering over you at, like, 6’0?

Swallowing air and chewing slightly on your already chapped lips, trying to fix your focus onto the register keys. His breath is warm on your cheek.

“The customer ordered a Mint Choc Chip double scoop, not a triple. You’re over charging him.” Scoffing, pushing in and evading your space like he always does. Looking up at the customer apologetically, you hope that he understands your mistake - the man looks unamused.

“Maybe I’d be able to concentrate if you weren’t slamming shit on the counters and sulking around so much.” This earns you another eye roll. “Maybe the line wouldn’t be so long if you actually did your job.” He counters, handling the cash while you prepare the order.

This demeaning attitude drove you crazy, you worked just as hard as he did. The way he spoke about you in this place made it seem like anything was always two seconds away from burning down without his intervention. And intervene he did, you felt like you couldn’t breathe at times from him jumping down your neck over the tiniest things.

“Mike, did you take out the trash-”

“Obviously I did, do you think I’m some sort of idiot? I’m not you.”

“Mike, did you turn off the-”

“Yes, the mixer is off. Jesus Christ, you need to worry about yourself.”

It made you want to call in sick for the rest of the summer. Except no teen in their right mind would ever want to work here to get your shifts covered, and you felt guilty about throwing in the towel over a stupid boy.

The sweat is lashing off you. These goddamn uniforms. The cheap material doesn’t help with the heat, even for an ice cream shop. Your jaw is wound up so tightly you didn’t even realise how hard you were gritting your teeth. Fuck this summer so much.

Unbeknownst to you, Mike was in the same boat as you were. He knows well that Lucas and Dustin have a bet against him that he wouldn’t last long working here. If there was one thing that exceeded his need for cash, it was his stubbornness.

In order to work together without a fight, you had to exist in silence; which made the shifts feel even longer and more torturous. Eventually, you would both blow up at each other anyway due to a minor unspoken miscommunication.

By week 3, you had decided you hated Mike Wheeler.

You hated his scoffs, his eyerolls. You hated the way his voice stayed that monotonous, condescending way half the time, as if he thought you were beneath him.

You hated the way he spoke to customers that were taking too long, or the way he would refuse to serve certain classmates that then meant that you would have to go and double down on your niceness to avoid awkwardness.

You hated that he would randomly ditch to go out and smoke behind Starcourt with Eddie Munson, who was the manager in the record store upstairs. Or, when the cute girl from the bookshop would come in on her break and he’d do that shy smile and let her have whatever she wanted.

But more than anything, you hated that while he did not have Harrington-level looks, Mike Wheeler was unfortunately attractive.

Too ashamed to admit that you had indeed thought about what it would be like to pull on his dark hair, or sometimes even hope that he would grab your waist when moving past you, you channelled the frustration into how you dealt with him. Fighting dirty was not, not an option.

Wheeler was scrappy in an argument, enjoying to back you into corners and leave you stuttering. Sometimes he’d smirk at you with narrowed eyes as if he was harvesting all of your sanity for his own sick satisfaction.

One night, after a particularly heated shift that ended in raised voices and slamming doors, and notably you getting a particularly nasty jab in about him playing DND, you couldn’t get him out of your head the entire car ride home.

Even after the shouting match, you had still turned to him at the employee exit behind the mall and asked if he wanted a ride home. It felt like you were handing him a white flag and your dignity on a platter. He bluntly insisted that his sister was coming for him, and you left it at that.

You watched his dark figure in the side mirror as it shrunk into the distance. He seemed to watch your car as you went. If he was trying to intimidate you, it was working.

With the steering wheel gripped tightly in your hands and your eyes stuck on the road in front of you, you couldn’t help but let out all of the snarky comments you wish you’d made instead of feeling so damn spineless.

This continued the whole way home, slamming the door behind you upon entering your house.

Socks and shoes shed and left abandoned, your keys hit the rim of the hall mirror as you carelessly toss them, you’d hoped that they would land in the small bowl instead.

You’re still ranting to yourself. Your parents would be used to this by now if they were ever home. This was a sore subject for you.

Safe in the sanctity of your room, it felt like you could finally breathe. Shedding your uniform as if you were ridding yourself of your own skin, your mind goes blank as your back hits the duvet.

Sunlight seeps through the window across from you, a strip lands on your face. The sky is a picturesque blue, with fluffy clouds that look like they had been painted on.

You couldn’t shake off the feeling inside of you. The vision of him clung to you, no longer able to pretend that the flush of your cheeks is coming from the ray of light covering them.

It felt like he’d burrowed into your chest and was using your heart as a drum.

The fight replayed in your head again. Flashes of him, his mean smile, his head tilting condescendingly, his dark eyes goading you on, his hands grasping onto the counter that separated you.

The way his veins looked as he pushed a frantic hand through his hair and scoffed. “You’re such a fucking bitch,” He’d told you. You squirm, trying to fight the all too familiar heat rising within you.

A tentative hand slips under your panties, your fingers quickly covered in the wetness down there. Methodical strokes over your clit as you bite your lip and try to shake away the thought of Mike Wheeler doing this to you. It’s no use, your imagination begins to run free. You felt so dirty.

Chest heaving from the pleasure, your fingers sink inside of you and you imagine they’re his. Those long fingers, what they’d feel like if he was here with you right now. You frown at the phantom feeling of them as you know no matter how good you touch yourself, it will never fill the void. If he was here, he’d be able to go deeper. Harder.

When you cum, you can’t help but let Mike slip out. Your free hand snaps to your mouth, wishing you could force it back in.

It feels almost foreign on your tongue. You spend the night with a pit of shame in your stomach. But the heat remained.

So, quite frankly, ever since that night you’ve wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you up every time you’ve been in his presence.

But still, you insist that this changes nothing - you hate Mike Wheeler.

And here he was, working right by your side on the counter.

The place is too busy to bicker, and you don’t doubt that he feels just as icky as you do drenched in sweat. Aside from a few annoying comments from either of you, nothing terrible happens.

Until he leans across you to grab a finished ice cream tub sitting on the counter beside your hip. You can’t explain the manoeuvre yourself, but the way he leans over and crosses behind you leaves no personal space. In the crossfire, you can feel his front press up against your back, as you’re pushed into the counter.

You freeze, you can feel him pressing into you - all of him. Forced into the counter, you can’t help but jerk back involuntarily.

A soft moan falls from his throat, he almost grunts to stop himself. You gasp.

Dropping a sundae you were preparing into the ice cream display below in reaction, letting out a curse at the mess created. “JESUS, WHEELER!”

He frowns but looks apprehensive. “You’re blocking the whole damn display, shit, what else was I meant to do?” Mike shakes his head and reaches for the fallen bowl as you go to do the same. “Leave it, I’ll clear it up.” You mutter sternly.

“But I-”

“Seriously, Mike.” You insist, unable to look him in the eyes. He softens at you saying his name. His own eyes nervously shift around, struggling to focus on one thing. You wonder if he realised what noise he made, if he realised the effect it had on you, if he was as embarrassed as you were. It was all too much, too close. “Can you just go and clean some tables, please? The line isn’t long anymore.” The end of the rush was in sight, he hesitates for a second and then nods.

Falling back into that gross silence, the type that you know is only acting as respite for an even worse fight brewing, is worth it for now. You can’t bare to look at him, and he keeps his distance from you.

Then finally, for the first time all day, no one is waiting at the counter. No longer wanting to be inside on a day like this, you presume. The masses of disgruntled parents juggling their kids or tweens coming down from their sugar rushes were now Hawkins Community Pool’s problem, not yours.

The last few patrons take their time as you close up, the fluorescent strip bulbs drone grows only more apparent with the lack of atmosphere in the parlour. A couple in the corner booth finish their milkshake through two straws, you try not to laugh at the girl dragging her bare leg up his calf under the table in a flirting attempt. You cough to get their attention, mopping close to their booth. They get the idea, and leave while sending you smiles that seem fake.

Over the past few weeks, you’ve managed to get the end of shift mop down to a fine art, finding that Mike was too sloppy whenever he did it and ended up delaying what time you actually got out.

“You missed a bit.” Mike snorts, nursing a vanilla sundae that he must have helped himself to. If looks could kill he would be already six feet under. He points to a small dry patch behind you, you hate that he’s right.

“Oh, whatever Wheeler.” The mop is aggressively plunged into a soapy water filled bucket. “Can you just make yourself useful? Stack chairs or clean counters or something?”

“Why can’t you? I’ve worked hard enough, you complain when I do literally anything so I’ll just let the expert lead.” He drifts over to you like it’s the most casual thing in the world, a daring look in his eyes as he brings the spoon to his lips. You fight the urge to smack it away.

“Well, we can get out of here quicker if you do literally anything to help.”

“I’ve already cleaned the full back area-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve cleaned the front.”

“No you haven’t you liar, those kids have barely just left.” You slam the mop against his chest, he whines.

You get the surface cleaner and wipe down the booth, leaning over it as you clean. When you look around at Mike, his eyes dart away. “What? Something funny?” He shakes his head in response, still not looking at you.

You continue cleaning, stretching over the table, a sickly sarcastic smile as you pick up the empty milkshake glass left behind.

When you turn around to brandish it, he does the same again. Your mouth went dry, and your eyes widened. He was checking you out. “Watch it, perv!”

“Oh, you wish.” Mike scoffs and takes another spoonful of his sundae, moving the mop away lest it be used as a weapon again.

The tall glass hits the soapy water in the backroom, splashing up and soaking your top. Scoffing at the inconvenience, you power through and keep scrubbing. The window to the front of the store opens with a blast, you parade the clean glass through it as a trophy. “There! Happy?” Mike shrugs, a smile almost teasing his lips.

“The ice cream needs to be put away into the freezer.” He says, as if doing you a favour.

“Are you gonna do that?”

“Nope.”

“Well neither am I.” That gets him, the mop is discarded and his sundae is slammed on top of the counter. “What? C’mon!”

“I’m trying to help you with everything else I’m doing here, Mike. You’re standing eating fucking ice cream. I just want to get out of here, but you drive me so crazy!” You snatch the sundae bowl and begin to head to the sink. He follows in hot pursuit.

“I’ve taken the trash out, I got the delivery in, I’ve cleaned in here, everything is prepped for tomorrow.” He grabs his Ahoy hat from his head and tosses it on the table in the centre of the room.

A hand runs through his hair, you turn away and focus on the task at hand before allowing anything to stir within you. “I hate this. I hate having to deal with a micromanager like you. And you’re not even smart enough to be a manager!”

An uncontrollable rage surges through you. Taking the sundae bowl, you turn around and throw it over his head. It hits the wall behind him and smashes instantly.

“HOLY SHIT!” Mike exclaims. “You could have killed me!” Whatever shock was on your face quickly dissipated to unamusement. “Get a grip.”

He keeps motioning between you and the bowl as if it’s achieving anything. You’re already sweeping up the pieces.

“You crazy psycho! What the hell was that?”

You struggle to find words, disappointed in yourself that it came to that.

“Just so not professional. Just ‘cause all your friends have abandoned you for the summer, you think you can take it out on me!” He starts shuffling around you as you grab a broom and dustpan to clear up the glass pieces on the floor. You eventually find yourself on your hands and knees to get the difficult pieces as tears well up in your eyes. That does it.

“Oh I’m sorry, Michael. I forgot about how much fun you were having all summer galavanting around with your girlfriend- oh wait!” The comment leaves him dumbfounded. That has to sting.

He scrunches up his face, and heads towards the window. You prepare for the worst as you stand back up and dust yourself off.

He picks up the clean milkshake glass and drops it on the floor in front of you, you flinch as it explodes into a hundred little pieces, adding to your workload. “Whoops.”

You stare daggers, but say nothing and just keep clearing the area.

With no response, he just clenches his fist and stares until you’re almost done.

“Jealous bitch.” He mutters. Your eyes widen.

“Sorry, what was that? As if I’d be fucking jealous.” You begin to laugh maniacally. “Jealous of what? Your fuckin’ right hand?”

“Real mature.”

“Oh fuck you. I’m leaving, Wheeler.” Heading for the back exit, he trailed behind you.

“Sure, go ahead, say hi to your parents for me. Oh wait.” He shrugs with a twisted satisfaction. A killing blow, you really had to give it to him.

With no constraint left after your previous outburst, and just so desperate to get him the hell away from you - you turn around and slap him clean across the face.

The unpleasant THWACK echoes through the back room, and you’re not at all proud of what you’ve done. His right cheek is bright red and both of your mouths hang open in shock. Your hand is aching. His pupils dilate.

Something shifts in him, in both of you. The charade is dropped.

“Ohmygod- Mike I’m so sorry, what the fuck! I don’t know what came over me, I swear!-” You begin to ramble, reaching out to touch his cheek, but his hand reaches there first.

You try to read his eyes, it’s like he’s struggling to even process what happened. You frown, this is the worst you’ve ever felt in your life. You need him to say something, anything. Hell, you kind of even want him to slap you back just to make it even.

His breathing is heavy, you hadn’t noticed before now. He’s just standing there, staring at your face. You’re so close. His eyes are so, so dark. He kind of shakes his head, an unreadable amusement flickers briefly on his face.

You realise that while he may be in shock, he didn’t not like it.

The heat returns full force, you bite down on your lip, unable to look away from his face. Your eyes dart from his eyes, to his lips and back up again. Then, you feel the dampness between your legs. You unmistakably tremble, jaw slack.

“Holy shit.” You don’t know who mumbled it, maybe you both did.

Some unholy force washes over you both, and you grab each other like you might die if you don’t. Your lips meet his in a fury, your fist tugging tight on the red tie from his stupid fucking uniform. You feel drunk on the adrenaline, it’s dangerous, but you can’t stop.

He rips your hat from your head, and throws it across the room. His hands slot through your hair, holding you in place. Noses, tongues and teeth clash, a giddiness rises within you.

This was Mike versus you at its rawest, and you weren’t sure who was in the lead right now. His hands fall to your waist and slide under the sailor top, you jump at the feeling of the coldness on your skin, not expecting it considering how warm you both had been. He pulls you forward with a harsh tug and you can feel him against your pelvis. Rock solid.

Vanilla unrelenting on his tongue, it was addicting.

You drag your fingers through his messy long hair, he feels like just how you’ve imagined. You pull his head back, but chase his lips. Mike groans and grabs you tighter, nails pressing into you, it sends shivers down your spine.

For a second, you come back to reality and push him off of you. He is wild eyed and breathless, but apprehensive.

“I dunno what happened-” He starts after a beat, but you push past him and head straight for the steel table in the centre of the room. Sitting on top of it, you shed your damp shirt, exposing your bra.

“Shit.” He stands there awkwardly, obviously in shock.

“Are you gonna come here, or what?” Your voice shakes when you say it, but you still can’t believe your own boldness saying this to Michael Wheeler of all people. He starts frantically nodding, he can’t believe this is for him.

He approaches with caution, eyes not leaving you the entire time as he flickers from your face to your body. You curse in your head for not picking out a nicer underwear set today of all days.

“You know, you can touch me, Mike.” His brow furrows, as if he’s about to whine. As if he knows just as much as you how wrong this all feels. Unfortunately, that just made it hotter.

His left hand falls to your breast, his right cupping your jaw. A little unsure of himself, he leans in and kisses tentatively this time. There’s something about his touch that while it was greedy, it felt inexperienced.

You put your hand over his on your breast and get him to knead harder through the fabric, he follows without hesitation.

The kiss escalates quickly, sloppily dragging his tongue over yours as he grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the table. He slots himself between your legs, and you feel him again, rubbing yourself against him as he swears into your mouth.

He grinds even harder and you whimper, he can’t stop himself from smiling against your lips.

Breaking away to catch your breath, there is a shy excitement on your faces shared between you both now. If you gave yourself too much time to think, you think you would short circuit. From the way he seemed to be hiding his nerves, you thought he might do the same.

The air in the room is thick with heat, and you want him to lick it off of you.

Without thinking, you reach between his legs and grab his erection. Hissing, he jerks towards you. Mike relishes in the feeling for a moment and then with a wide, panting mouth, he captures you in a kiss again as you palm him through his shorts.

Your other hand snakes through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulls back. Biting at his exposed skin, not too hard, but hard enough to leave a mark.

“Fuck you.” You hear in your ear, it only makes you wetter.

The grip on your thighs grows tighter as he rocks himself into your hand, trying to alleviate the pressure building inside of him. His hand moves down to your knee and hooks it at his waist.

Through his strain he blurts out, “Can I feel you?”. With hesitance, you nod.

Both halves of your uniform are reunited on the floor, you feel bare. He is still looking at you in a sort of awe filled way, it makes you feel even more naked despite not being fully just yet. For the first time today, you feel chilly.

“I- I’ve never-“ Mike seems at a loss for words, but you understand what he’s saying.

“You’re a virgin?” Eying him curiously, he grimaces. He looks down at himself in his sailor uniform, and crosses his arms as if he’s the one almost naked.

“No! It’s just I’ve never, like, touched someone like-” Motioning his right index and middle fingers through a hole made of his left hand, you suppress a giggle.

“You’ve never fingered someone before?” He almost stutters but no words come out in response, hanging his head in shame, as if he’s worried what you’re going to say next.

A twinge of pity rang through you as you looked at the timid figure in front of you. Softly, you capture his hand in your own. Bringing his digits to your mouth, you suck. He shudders, the image better than anything he’d ever imagined.

Guiding him to the waistband of your underwear, you admit, “I’ve thought about this, you know.” His eyes burst open.

You push his fingers past the elastic, “That day when we were screaming at each other in the freezer, I went home and touched myself after.” He understands, you continue guiding him down.

“I came on my fingers thinking about you. About how much I can’t stand you.” Biting his lip, his fingers trail against your clit, you gasp at the contact. You were only half convinced by what you were saying.

There is no hesitation on his end, he immediately begins to rub his wet fingers against your core as if soothing a generational hunger.

The room is filled with your uncharacteristic whines as you grab his arm. Your underwear is pulled down your legs and thrown, abandoned with the rest of your clothes.

“Please, Mike, please.” You beg, grip growing tighter. At the mention of his name, he sinks his fingers inside of you. The gasp you let out feels like the first time you’ve ever breathed.

His face hovers on top of your own, as he leans you back. Your noses are parallel to each other, as your eyes stay locked on his and vice versa. His jaw is clenched as he works his way into you, trembling.

The noise of his fingers fucking into you is pornographic, and feeling even a little of his weight on top of you makes you yearn for everything to be harder. Deeper. Rougher. Just like it was in your head that day spread across your duvet.

“Do you like it when we argue? Do you always get this wet?” The question catches you off guard, especially the way he says it. Teasing, but entirely curious. You frown, but nod, tightly shutting your eyes out of embarrassment.

He brandishes that annoying grin he reserves for when he knows he’s under your skin. “Knew it.”

You couldn’t help but tighten on him, in response he begins to curl his fingers, hitting a spot that feels like uncharted territory. Those damn long narrow fingers. You knew you were right to imagine them fucking into you so much. Whining, you feel like your eyes are wound shut so tightly that you might cry.

Eager to please, he moves them a little quicker, a little more greedy. You tap his arm, Mike takes this as a good sign. “So fuckin’ wet, it’s crazy.” He admires.

It comes to you in a wet hot flash, one you’ve never quite experienced before from your own doing. You call his name out and he goes even faster, chasing after euphoria.

This desperation for Mike Wheeler was unbearable, and the worst part was you could practically feel his ego growing as you sat up on your elbows on the steel table and he kissed you hard again.

“Take your shorts off now.” You whisper. He does so without hesitation, taking his boxers with them and exposing his hard length to you. It was long and skinny like he was, with dark wild hair around it. Exactly as you’d pictured.

He began to take off his shirt but you stopped him.

“Freak.” He scoffs, but obeys nonetheless.

“Shut up, bet you can’t even unclip a bra.” Pushing your chest out towards him. Accepting the challenge, Mike fumbles around with the back of it for a moment before it pops open. “Beginners luck, I guess.” He smirks, and pulls you in again. You could kiss him forever, you think.

Entirely topless now, Mike almost doesn’t know what to do with you.

“You look….. good.”

“Shut up,” You almost go to cover yourself but he stops you.

“I’m serious! Especially when you sit there all horned up and just shut up.” You hit his arm. “Ouch.”

“Oh, whatever, you like it when I smack you.” You joke but feel guilty for even saying it, he blushes.

“True.”

“I was kind of hoping you’d hit me back, in the moment. Not in a weird way, just like, to make it even.” You open the floor to it, all cards on the table. You were already picturing your arch nemesis ramming into you in your work place where anyone could walk in and see, may as well suggest some further experimentation.

Mike contemplates for a second and then awkwardly, “I don’t think I’m really into that, sorry.”

Shrugging, “No worries,”, you challenge him, “Are you atleast going to fuck me or are you just going to stand there being a pussy?”.

“You’re such a dick.” The boy shakes his head, smiling. Catching you off guard, a tight hand lands on your throat. He holds his other palm out under your chin. His cock is already working up against you, you exhale.

“Spit.”

You oblige.

He lathers the stream of saliva on himself and spreads the rest over your already soaking entrance. Pumping himself a few times, he lines himself up, takes a deep breath and pushes himself inside you.

The stretch burns ever so slightly, but you still cry out in ecstasy at the feeling. Mike is holding himself against you, trying not to come thinking of your naked figure pressed up against his body alone.

Eventually adjusting, he begins to move, rocking into you slow but steady. You can’t help but moan. His hot breath on your forehead as you sit there, both throbbing, feels so intimate.

It felt so filthy, it felt like the worst thing you could ever do. To be with him in this way, after everything.

Your mouth is wide open, panting, and his jaw is resting above it. You can hear every little struggling noise he’s making, you can almost feel how nervous he is and taste his sheer selfish want.

His hips snap into your own, you hold his chin to force him to look at you. “Look at what you’re doing to me.” You struggle out, overcome by pleasure. “Take it all out on me. Go on.”

He hums and your name spills out of his mouth as he starts to thrust harder. You’ve been with guys before, sure, but never like this.

“You feel so good, shit.” He whimpers, the table begins to shake and he unforgivingly buries his hilt inside, filling you so entirely. So, so deep.

“Aw fuck, I’m not going to last much longer.” Mike strains, you bite your lip in an attempt to ground yourself but accidentally draw blood.

“Keep going, idiot, fuck - I’m gonna cum.”

“Don’t be such a fucking bitch about it-”

“I despise you-”

“Ditto-” You lean forward and graze your teeth into the side of his neck again, and he comes undone.

Body tensing, Mike falls into you and your back is pushed against the table. The feeling of him convulsing sends ripples through you, and you finally release once more, fingers grasping his hair for dear life as he fills you.

Covered in sweat, you both stay there for a moment, not saying anything.

He leaps up. “Oh shit, we never used a condom.”

You struggle to get up on your elbows, nonplussed. “I’m on the pill.” Still trying to stay in the afterglow before you have to come crashing back to reality.

Mike sighs, relieved. Pushing away the dread at the potential of having to tell his mom and dad he got a girl pregnant before he even reached college.

“I think that’s the longest we’ve went without, like, properly arguing.” You sigh.

“What are you talking about? That’s how I argue with everybody.”

You smack his chest, he lets out a little ow, but smiles. You smile back.

Your head falls back onto the table. Mike sorts out his clothes, then gathers some centrefeed roll from beside the sink and hands some to you.

“Jesus, I feel like I can’t get up.” The ceiling stares back at you. Mike hurries around the kitchen, you zone out as you clean yourself up. Nothing a cold shower can’t help with when you get home.

By the time you finally get up and redress, you realise Mike has done the rest of the close.

“I mean, it’s the least I could do seeing as you literally just let me cum inside you.” He shrugs, half joking. You amusedly huff. He gets a little stir out of seeing you smile at one of his jokes.

“I appreciate it, seriously.” A moment lingers between you. Maybe it’s an awkward silence. You’re not quite sure what to say.

Mike stands there, awkwardly nodding. “Cool.”

“I can lock up if you want. Do you need a ride home or…?”

“Nah it’s fine, Nance is coming for me. She’s probably here already.”

“Cool.” Another beat passes, neither of you move.

“I should go then.” He grabs his jacket from the hook beside the door, getting ready as you clear the last of any mess.

“Hey, Wheeler,”

“Listen I’m not gonna tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about-”

“No, not that. God, I’d just deny it anyway.”

Mike rolls his eyes at you, but he still hesitates to open the door. “What’s up?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if you were down, I’d be up for this same time tomorrow again.” Your gaze drops to the floor in shame, here comes the punchline - Mike Wheeler is probably never going to let this down.

But instead his face lights up.

“Sounds good.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

“I still cannot stand you though, Wheeler.”

“Yeah, fuck you too.” He says it with a smile, and takes his time leaving through the employee exit, still unable to take his eyes off you.

The second he leaves the room, you let go of a breath you didn’t even know you were holding and gripped onto the table you were practically spread across a few minutes ago.

What the fuck just happened?

But then, you remembered, tomorrow.

And then you smiled too.

[rotandguts]

Hii if it's ur style could you write evil dead rise Danny but like him possessed and smut only if it's your vibes and you're comfortable with it have an amazing day <3

hey! i’ll add this to my list - i’m semi inactive rn but will definitely get round to it :)

[rotandguts]

are you okay we miss you (◞‸◟；)

miss you guys too!! i’ll be back soon, probs going to write from stranger things stuff before i write anymore danny though🫶🏻 but definitely want to finish august

[classichorrorblog]

31 Characters For October

Day 17 - Tarman from The Return of the Living Dead (1985)

[rotandguts]

AUGUST TEASER 2

“Mia’s cackle from behind you echoes through the woods, now mounting Eric’s shoulders as he spins her around. A banshee’s warning. Trouble is coming. David sits still, almost scowling. You turn around again, there’s no need to dwell on him. It’s not like you’d been dwelling on him for nine years straight. Oh wait.

In a way, maybe Danny had been gone ever since that night in the woods all those years ago. It’s not like you were on pleasant terms. Good riddance, right?

And yeah, you really really hated the way he’d play with your head. And you hated how sometimes he could just make you feel so stupid and flustered. But most of all you hated how devastated he’d made you feel right now without even really having to insult you.

But maybe, you thought, you’d miss it even more.”

COMING SOON

[rotandguts]

This is the anon from before and congrats for the A on your dissertation!! I got B+ on mine hahah, but it was my pride and joy honestly

ahhhhh congrats!! still amazing. such a stressful thing to dedicate yourself to and really time consuming. so proud of u <3