sloane

certified yearner

[sloanetherapper]

“you’ve got me hooked i’m a fish on a line,” - eat, finn wolfhard.

sloane. 18. esfj. tn. irl mike wheeler & glinda upland. #1 victim of writers block.

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[maaaddiexo]

Polaroids

mainlist -> stranger things -> finn wolfhard ->

warnings: all of it. so much fucking teasing i love it, degredation, slut-shaming, slight oral fixation, p in v, oral, fingering, dirty talk, basically more graphic-as-hell porn

Y/N didn’t know when she’d started crushing on Mike Wheeler. It didn’t feel like it happened overnight, but was more of a gradual thing that developed as Mike grew from an awkward, walking target into a tall glass of confidence and nerdy sex appeal. He kept his hair cut short, and he seemed more in control of his long limbs as he walked the halls of Hawkins High. Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas passed where Y/N stood with Max at her locker, changing out her textbooks. When they disappeared around a corner, Max turned on Y/N.

“I dare you to seduce Mike.”

Y/N choked on her cherry lollipop. “What?”

Max nodded, an evil grin on her face. “Yeah. Do it, or I won’t use all those tips you gave me to seduce Lucas tonight and our relationship will crash and burn because you refused to make a move on a guy I know you have a thing for.”

Y/N frowned. “I do not have a thing for Mike Wheeler.”

“You do. But go ahead – lie to your best friend.”

Y/N could lie to a lot of people, but she couldn’t lie to Max. So she changed tactics. “Mike Wheeler doesn’t like me.”

“Y/N.” Max blinked at her. “He’s been crushing on you since I moved here back in middle school. We won’t be seniors forever. Take the guy out of his misery and act on those feelings you have locked up in that slutty little heart of yours.”

Y/N looked at her friend. “You used to be a lot less emotionally perceptive.”

“And then I met you. Come on.”

Later that evening, Y/N and Max walked into the Wheeler house like they owned the place. The boys were arguing about D&D logistics in the basement, their shouting heard from the main floor. 

“Five bucks we don’t even watch a movie,” Max muttered, straightening out her new top. It wasn’t some tight, low-cut piece of fabric Stacey Albright would use. This was Max, afterall. The new shirt had a cut down the center of the crewneck neckline, parting ever-so-slightly when she leaned forward, and it was a couple inches shorter, showcasing the tan she got over the summer.

“Quit fussing,” Y/N smacked her hands away. “You look great.”

“Says the girl who’s used to flirting,” Max muttered, pulling open the door. “Speak of flirting–”

Y/N held up a hand. “Yes. I said I would. Screw you and your sudden astute observational skills.” Max rolled her eyes, bounding down the stairs. Y/N took her time, watching her steps on the steep staircase as she descended. Both her and Max had dressed up a little nicer tonight, Y/N trying out the new pleated skirt she’d got. Naturally, wearing it in a basement of all places was a bad idea, but that was all just part of her plan. Besides, the knee-high socks she was wearing would keep her warm long enough.

Taking her time also let Mike look his fill. And look he did. Y/N watched his eyes take their time moving from her ankles to her waist, and then jump to her mouth where she was sucking on another lollipop. Y/N swallowed a satisfied smile and looked away. Maybe there was some truth to Max’s words.

“T.V.’s all set up,” Dustin smiled. “We just need to make the popcorn.”

“Lucas and I will do it,” Max offered. Before anyone could say another word, she was tugging her boyfriend back up the stairs, the door slamming shut behind them.

“God, Mike, why is your basement freezing?” Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, shifting from foot to foot. Freezing was an exaggeration, but so long as it got her what she wanted. “Could I borrow a sweater or something?”

“Maybe it’s cold because you’re dressed like Slutty Cheerleader #3 that’s the first to get murdered in a shitty horror movie,” Dustin snarked from his spot on the couch, not even looking over at Y/N as he dusted chip crumbs off his Hellfire shirt. Both her and Mike glared at the back of his head.

“I’ve got a bin of clean laundry on my bed, Y/N.” Mike smiled down at Y/N. He was a few inches taller than her. “I think I’ve got a sweater or two in there. First door on the left. Help yourself.”

Shit. Y/N had hoped Mike would take her up to his room. But not one to give up at the first hurdle, Y/N nodded and turned around, heading back up the stairs. Just before the door shut, she practically heard Will’s eyes roll.

“Dude.”

“What?”

Just as Mike had said, there was a bin of folded laundry on his bed, the bed unmade. Mike’s room was surprisingly clean – for a guy. A few pieces of clothing littered the floor, and his desk was a mess, but that was pretty much it. He had posters of athletes and D&D memorabilia taped on his walls, and Y/N spied a full-length mirror on the inside of his open closet door. 

She found a clean sweater in the bin, and tipped her head back with a groan. The sweater was an excuse. She dropped her head, wondering what she was going to do next, when she spied it. A polaroid camera on his bedside table. Upon checking it, there were four film sheets left. She smiled.

This could work. 

She’d just have to wait a little longer.

Idea after idea flooded her mind as she moved to stand in front of Mike’s mirror, but she finally landed on two, and quickly set up.

When she bounded down the stairs five minutes later, declaring she was ready for the movie and absolutely swallowed up by one of Mike’s knit sweaters, she was a hell of a lot warmer. And not just because of the sweater. 

She’d officially started playing with Mike Wheeler.

—

After everyone left Mike’s house and he’d rolled up the half-eaten bags of chips, Mike made his way up to his room, flicking on the light and coming to a dead stop. “What the…”

The laundry bin was on the floor. But Y/N had been in his room so that wasn’t too odd. What was odd was that his bed had been made and his camera was sitting dead center. Mike approached it slowly as if expecting it to explode. It didn’t, but when Mike picked it up, he noticed a single film sheet beneath it, face down.

He picked it up.

“Holy fuck.”

Her face wasn’t in it, but Mike knew it was Y/N. Knew it by the curvature of her smooth, long legs. By the slimness of her fingers wrapped around the camera. By the blood red panties he’d caught a glimpse of when she ran upstairs. She’d obviously taken this photo when she’d grabbed a sweater because she was standing in front of his mirror in the photo. And she wasn’t wearing pants.

Holy fuck she wasn’t wearing pants. 

She’d slipped on one of his old rock band shirts, the hem stopping at her waist so he could see every inch of the front of her panties. She was still wearing those knee-high stockings, making her look even sexier. And written at the bottom of the photo in black Sharpie–

Do you like red?

Mike fell back on his bed, gripping himself through his shorts. 

When he was younger, his crush on Y/N had been an innocent one. But then puberty came, and twisted it into something a little darker. He’d never acted on it – he never thought she’d felt the same and hadn’t wanted to risk losing her as a friend. But Will-the-fucking-Wise had noticed, and had never stopped teasing him about it. 

He checked the camera. Two film sheets. 

Beyond grateful he had the house to himself, Mike pulled his shorts down and worked on his reply.

—

When Monday came around, Y/N hadn’t spoken to Max about what she’d done in Mike’s room. The girl had been late to first period, slamming into her desk just as the bell rang. The teacher gave her a disapproving look but said nothing, starting the lesson. At lunch, the boys had AV Club and Max had lacrosse practice, so Y/N was left to her own devices. On the bleachers outside, she caught up on schoolwork and started brainstorming some ideas for the photography project her and Mike had been paired up for. Five minutes before the bell would ring to signal the end of lunch, Y/N packed up her belongings and headed inside. She moved through the crowd towards her locker, quickly turning her combination into the lock, frowning when a piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

No. A polaroid.

Y/N froze.

It was face down on the floor, hiding its contents from view. Shoving her lunch in the locker and grabbing her books for third period, Y/N swiped the picture off the floor and scurried for the bathroom, only flipping the sheet when she was locked in a stall.

She should have been sitting down.

It was Mike, but not his face. One leg was laid straight, the other bent at the knee. But what took up Y/N’s attention was his cock, standing straight at attention. The shiny head was an angry red so dark it was bordering on purple, and Y/N wished she could lick at the pearl of precum beading at the slit. His lean fingers fisted the base so hard his nailbeds were white. At the bottom of the image, he’d written his response to her original question, do you like red?

You tell me.

Yes. Yes, he liked red. A lot according to the photo. He must have been in agony if the colour was anything to go by. Y/N wasn’t inexperienced, but she’d never seen a cock so thoroughly teased without reprieve. Her panties felt damp, and her bag heavy with the other photo she’d taken Saturday night in Mike’s room. 

Fuck it.

Y/N walked to Mike’s locker slowly, looking both ways down the empty hallway before slipping the polaroid through the slits in his locker, the Sharpie still drying on the image.

I can’t wait to use your photo later.

—

Y/N was playing a dangerous game, and Mike Wheeler didn’t like to lose. Dustin had vented about his sister being allowed to buy a camera but he wasn’t allowed to buy anything until next month because he’d maxed out his allowance already.

Mike had been turning that tidbit of information over in his head every day since. The knowledge that Y/N had bought a camera indicated she planned to continue this game. He locked his bedroom door behind him, moving for the secret hiding spot he’d hidden her two polaroids. It was Wednesday, which meant Y/N would be coming over to work on their project once school was out. He had a spare fourth period while everyone else had class. Usually, Mike would stick around and wait, but not today. He had approximately forty minutes before she was walking through his front door. 

He didn’t even bother taking his pants off, just pulling them down far enough to pull his semi out. But the second his eyes focused on the polaroids, he was rock hard. Mike spit in his hand and stroked the shaft, squeezing every few strokes. He closed his eyes, imagining what Y/N’s hand would feel like, and that thought only steered his mind to her mouth. 

Y/N was always sucking on those fucking cherry lollipops, lips popping whenever she released it. Mike stroked himself faster. She had to be good at giving blowjobs – she had to be. He’d seen her swirl her tongue around the sphere of sugar, collecting her spit before sucking it back into her mouth.

Thumb swiping over his slit to collect the leaking precum, Mike whispered Y/N’s name. “Y/N.”

Like every night before, Mike didn’t let himself come to the photos. He edged himself to near-completion, glaring at the two photos as if his self-imposed edging were their fault.

He supposed, in a way, it was.

Forty minutes later, after Mike had spat on Y/N’s first photo as he wrenched his hand away before he could come, Mike had a plan.

When the doorbell rang through the house, Mike knew how the next few seconds would play out. Karen would call up the stairs, “Mike! Y/N’s here!” but upon hearing no response from him, she’d send her right up.

Karen Wheeler did exactly that.

When Y/N knocked on the door, stepping in a moment later, Mike drowned in the sight of her in another skirt. She’d worn skirts every day this week and, yeah it had been hot out, but Mike knew that wasn’t why she was wearing them. He fought the urge to shift and relieve some pressure in his crotch, nodding at her.

“Hey, Mike.” She gave him a soft smile, one he knew was meant to lure him in and lower his defenses. Too bad he had multiple days of edgings ruining his mood. 

Y/N dropped her bag on the edge of his bed, unzipping it. “I have some great ideas for our photography assignment. I’m thinking we do it on perspective, photographing the same thing from different angles to show how many sides and interpretations an object can have.”

What an insightful topic. Perfect for more than one reason. “Sounds good to me.”

Y/N beamed. “Great. Oh! I, uh, got a new camera. But,” she blushed sheepishly, nibbling at her lower lip. “Could you show me how to use it? I want to make sure I’m using it right for this assignment.”

Her attempt was obvious, but Mike still slid off the bed, letting Y/N see the bulge in his jeans. He took the camera from her hands.

“Your idea about perspective is great. But sometimes it’s hard to move the camera, so you have to move the subject. For example,” Mike snapped a photo of Y/N standing with her hands at her side, flapping the photo after it printed. “You look sweet and innocent in this photo. But if you, say, knelt.” Mike pushed Y/N to her knees, stepping in close and cupping the back of her head to hold her in place as he shoved his crotch in her face. Her hands landed on his thighs, eyes flying up to Mike’s where he was ready.

Click.

Mike pulled out the photo, showing it to Y/N, who was still on her knees with her face inches from Mike’s boner. “You’re still the same, and your sweetness and innocence are still there, but they look different. More…breakable.”

The photo perfectly captured Y/N’s big doe eyes, filled with the perfect combination of surprise, arousal, and innocence. His bulge was clear in the picture and hovered inches from Y/N’s tinted lips. His hand held her head in place, and Mike knew he’d be using this photo as well.

“Mike,” Y/N whispered, hands creeping up his thighs. 

Mike tsked and grabbed her wrist. “You think just because you leave me a sexy picture or two that I’ll fuck your cunt when you ask?” Y/N tried to stand, but he pushed her back down. “Here’s the thing, Y/N. I’ve had a crush on you for years. But I’m not an awkward kid anymore. I know what I want. And now that I know you want me, I’m not going to let you go. You wanna play a game? Let’s play.”

Y/N swallowed in apprehension. Mike smirked. “Open your mouth, Little Red.”

Y/N glanced at Mike’s crotch and then did, tilting her head up at him. Without a moment of hesitation, Mike bent down and spat. The loogie shot straight to the back of Y/N’s throat, and she choked. Slamming a hand over Y/N’s mouth, Mike leaned lower. “Swallow it.”

Y/N did, coughing more. “That’s a good fucking slut,” he praised, reaching for his belt. “Put your hands on your thighs.”

Y/N gripped the ends of her skirt, staring up at him. Mike shoved his jeans and boxers down below his ass, pulling himself out. Y/N eyes widened as he fisted himself, stroking himself slowly. Touching himself relieved some pressure, but not nearly enough. He collected the leaking precum on a finger, shoving it in Y/N’s mouth. She sucked eagerly, swirling her tongue around his finger.

“Yeah, Y/N, just like that. I knew you’d be good at this, baby.” Mike fisted his cock, guiding it to Y/N’s swollen lips. “Suck my cock, Y/N, but just the tip. Any more and I’ll take it away.”

Y/N opened her mouth, pulling him in and immediately swirling her tongue again. Mike’s eyes rolled. Fuck, that felt good. She did it again before bobbing her head, lips covering the edge of his head but going no further than that. 

“Such a good listener,” Mike pushed some hair out of Y/N’s face, reaching for her Polaroid. “Or you’re just a desperate slut. Are you a desperate slut, Y/N?”

Y/N hummed around his cock, sucking harder. Mike’s hips bucked forward, and he moaned. Through half-lidded eyes, he watched Y/N’s tinted lipgloss transfer from her pretty mouth to his slick cock, flushed with arousal. It wasn’t just the head of his cock that was swollen and angry now – it was spreading down his shaft. Y/N stared up at him, never losing that stupid innocent look on her face, not even as she sucked him off so hard his vision turned white.

“Oh, fuck.” A broken moan slipped past his lips. “You’ve teased me for years, Y/N, but that fucking mouth, mmm, doing such a good job.” Y/N hollowed her cheeks further, tongue darting out to massage the underside of his cock. He fisted the base of his cock and Y/N loosened her lips. Like she could read his mind, she stuck out her tongue and Mike came on her tongue with a guttural moan, ass muscles tightening. Y/N swallowed everything he gave her, even going so far as to reach forward and clean the blunt head gently, peppering it with gentle kisses before tucking him back in. 

“Stand up.”

Y/N huffed a soft laugh. “I, uh, I don’t think I can.”

Mike looked down and, sure enough, her thighs were trembling just the slightest. Taking away her control had a bigger effect on her than he’d anticipated. Mike bent down, picking her up by her armpits. She grabbed his shoulders, widening her stance. 

“Thanks.”

“Are you wearing red panties today, Y/N?”

Her eyes shot upward. “What?”

God, you’d think she was the one still coming down from an orgasm with how frazzled she was. But no. This was what not getting an orgasm did to her. He backed her into his desk, caging her in. “Are you wearing those pretty red panties for me, Y/N?”

It’s like she doesn’t hear him, eyes still staring up at him. He chuckled, pushing her skirt up himself, fingers grazing the front of her panties. “Blue. I do love blue, but it’s not red.” He dropped her skirt, breath ghosting over her cheek. “Y’know, if you had worn red, I might have torn them off and buried my mouth between your thighs and see how good you tasted. But you wore blue, so…” Mike brought his hand up between her thighs hard and fast, grinning when she bent over in reaction to him slapping her core. He rubbed three tight circles around her clit, ran one long strip down her center to feel her soaked panties, and backed away. “Get the fuck out of my house, Y/N.”

—

Y/N had gone to Mike’s house on Wednesday to work on the project. On Thursday morning before first period, she found him at his locker, pushing herself into his space while he switched out his books. He barely glanced at her. “Didn’t take you long to find me and beg,” he said plainly.

“I’m not here to beg,” she smiled up at him. “See, I don’t like being denied, Wheeler. And what you did yesterday…it makes a girl cranky. But no matter. I’m nice. I’m here to call a truce.”

Mike’s actions slowed and he looked at her curiously. Doubtfully. “A truce.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded at him, fishing into her pocket. “I even brought you a white flag. Except, well, it’s red.” She dumped it right on the floor of his locker, and she could tell he knew exactly what it was. His eyes turned dark with hunger and intent as they took in the pair of crumpled red panties in his locker. “You seemed so disappointed last night I thought I would make it up to you. Oh, I almost forgot.” 

Y/N placed the polaroid on top of the panties, leaning up to whisper in Mike’s ear, “Fuck you, Wheeler.” And she walked away with swaying hips, leaving him staring into his locker at the photo of her in those exact panties, her hands covering her nipples. And written on the bottom–

Bite me, Wheeler.

—

Friday was movie night, when everyone gathered in Mike’s basement for a movie. It had been one week since Y/N took that first polaroid and started this whole war between her and Mike, and he was more than ready to get back at her tonight. He’d glared at her in every class they had together, Y/N smirking gleefully. She’d won that round, and he’d walked around with a boner for the rest of the day. 

On Friday before first period, he was surprised to find his locker empty of Y/N’s gifts, and she was nowhere to be found in the hallways.

“Hey, Wheeler.” Max walked up to him, headphones around her neck. She held a familiar piece of black and white out to him. “Special delivery.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Mike growled, snatching the photograph from Max. “She’s got you delivering them too?”

“Delivering them?” Max scoffed. “I’m the one taking the damn pictures.”

As she stalked away, Mike turned the photo over, cursing under his breath at the image. It was a full body shot, and Y/N looked like a fucking angle. She was standing in front of some gauzy curtains, soft light filtering through and making the edges of her look hazy. She was dressed in a pretty white tank top – no bra – and white panties, her hair framing her face. And her eyes? They were those fucking doe eyes that made Mike rock hard. 

Do I look pretty?

Mike slammed his locker with a little too much force, stomping his way to first period. He couldn’t wait for movie night tonight when he could even the score. 

Already in class was Y/N sitting front row in a pretty little white tennis skirt, as if she’d colour-coordinated her outfit with the picture. Her eyes met his and he worked hard to not let it show just how much her look affected him. She sucked on her cherry lollipop, leaning back in her seat. 

“Hey, Wheeler.”

Mike stopped in front of her desk, tapping on it twice. “That’s the second time I’ve heard that today. And the first person gave me something real special. You got anything for me, Little Red?”

Y/N cocked her head, still sucking on the lollipop. “Someone’s greedy.”

The class began to fill, but Mike stayed at Y/N’s desk. “Someone’s making me greedy.”

Y/N only smirked. “Check your locker after lunch.”

The time to lunch dragged, but it finally came and went and Mike ripped his locker open. The picture fluttered to the floor and he eagerly picked it up, leaning against the row of lockers when he flipped it over. 

It wasn’t of Y/N. It wasn’t of anything – just a blank white wall and her messy scrawl in Sharpie. 

Denial’s a bitch.

—

Y/N knew Mike was going to do something tonight. He’d been staring at her in every class, hand grazing her thigh when they sat beside each other in photography, the lights dimmed low as the teacher clicked through a PowerPoint. Just before the class ended and the teacher flicked the lights back on, Mike leaned in close, firmly gripping her thigh. “Pack an overnight bag. You’re sleeping over.”

Her head snapped to Mike’s, their faces inches apart. “What?”

“You heard me. And wear red. White’s pretty on you, but red’s my favourite colour.”

And because of those stupid words, Y/N was late to movie night. And, thus, so was Max.

“You’ve changed your outfit four times, Y/N.” Max rolled onto her stomach on Y/N’s bed. “And you’ve looked hot in all of them. Let’s go.”

“But–”

Max pushed off the bed, grabbing Y/N by the shoulders. “No buts. He said red. You’re not wearing red. He’s gonna revenge fuck you, and you’re going to live kinkily ever after. The End. Grab your bag. Let’s go.” 

There was something about arguing with Max that made it…absolutely pointless. Y/N didn’t know how Lucas did it. She snatched her overnight bag up as Max pushed her through the door and down the hall. Y/N’s dad grabbed the keys from the dish by the front door, locking the door behind them. The drive to the Wheeler house was short but not awkward, Y/N’s dad belting out song lyrics with them all the way there.

“Thanks for the ride,” Max smiled, hopping out first once Y/N’s dad put the car in park. Her fingers wrapped around Y/N’s wrist, tugging. 

“Have a great time, girls!”

Mrs. Wheeler opened the door, purse in hand. “Oh, perfect timing! Ted and I are just heading out. The boys are in the basement. Enjoy movie night!” And then she was gone, calling for her husband.

“Evening ladies,” Dustin purred, appearing from nowhere. 

“Hey,” Y/N smiled. “Where are we putting our stuff?”

“Downstairs.” Dustin threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave. “It’s basically all set up.”

Mike had turned half of the floor into a giant bed — pillows, blankets, and cushions thrown on the floor. Christmas lights had been strung up, and the coffee table was littered with chip bowls and candy wrappers. Y/N dropped her bag at the bottom of the stairs, wiping her hands on the sweater she’d borrowed from Mike last week. She’d paired it with another blue pleated skirt she’d bought (her allowance was taking a hit with the camera and all the skirts she’d bought) and high socks. 

Mike turned around at the sounds,eyes dropping to Y/N’s bare legs. Suddenly, Max disappeared. “That’s not red.”

Y/N looked down at her outfit. “There’s red in it somewhere. You just gotta look for it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mike teased the edge of her skirt. “How hard do I need to look?”

Y/N only smirked and stepped past Mike, heading for the common area. Dustin came down moments later, placing the popcorn bowl in the middle of the table. Dustin and Will took one couch, Lucas and Max the other, leaving Y/N and Mike to either share the wide chair or…

Y/N fell into the chair beside Mike, landing partially on his lap. “Sorry.”

“Everyone shut up. Shut up. I’m hitting play.” Dustin turned out the lamp, leaving the group in darkness. They’d picked Raiders of the Last Ark, and while Y/N usually loved the movie, tonight all it did was threaten to bore Y/N to tears. She turned on her side, hand falling across Mike’s lap. He stiffened.

“Relax, or they’ll figure out what’s going on before I can unbutton your jeans,” Y/N murmured into his neck, fingers fiddling with the button.

“Y/N,” he warned lowly, his hips shifting.

“What?” She undid the button and jeans silently, palming him through just his underwear now. “Afraid to get caught?”

Mike exhaled through his nose, sinking further into the chair as Indiana Jones gave his signature smolder. His own hands slipped under the blanket, helping Y/N push his jeans down just enough for her to pull him out, squeezing him. He was already hard, heavy and warm in her hand. When Y/N rubbed her thumb over his head, she felt herself spread the bead of precum over the tip, smiling to herself when he gripped her thigh. He’d been totally in control when he’d made her suck him off the other day, but it seemed the loss of control was as much of a turn on for Mike as it was for Y/N.

“Watch the movie, Mike,” she commanded, hand stilling. He let out a breathy moan, turning his head to face the T.V. but not really seeing. Y/N subtly spat into her hand, rubbing it along his shaft, reveling in the feeling of him hardening further beneath her. She squeezed the base and Mike choked back a gasp, fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her thigh.

“Y/N.”

“Do you like that?” Y/N didn’t wait for an answer, twisting her wrist on the upstroke, centering most of her focus on the head, fingers gliding over the underside where she’d learned he was especially sensitive. Every time his hips bucked or twitched, she stopped and waited until he let out a soft groan of desperation into her hair. He squeezed her thigh again, harder this time.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, Mike?”

“Stop.”

“Why?” She smirked, picking up her pace.

Dustin yelled something at the T.V. and Mike turned to look down at Y/N, pupils blown wide. “Because I’ve been edging myself all week and I’m, oh fuck, I’m going to come.”

She gave Mike her best doe eyes and pulled away, pulling her hand back to her lap, sandwiching it between her thighs. “If you insist.”

—

Mike nearly flipped the goddamn coffee table when Y/N pulled her hand away and made no inclination to finish what she’d started. He’d asked her to stop, but he never thought she’d actually do it. But there he sat, cock rock hard and on the verge of exploding while the movie played around them. When he looked over, Lucas’ eyes had rolled to the back of his head, obviously being granted something Y/N was denying him.

Mike glared at Lucas. And then the T.V. for the rest of the movie. When the end credits finally began to roll, Dustin turned the lamp on. “Alright kids. Twenty minute break before Temple of Doom begins.”

Max groaned. “I’m putting my pajamas on.”

“Good idea.” Y/N stretched in the chair, pushing the blanket off her lap.

The boys seemed inclined to agree, and Mike followed the girls upstairs to change into his own pajamas. In the hallway, Max peeled off toward the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind her. Just before it closed, she caught Mike’s eyes over Y/N’s lowered head and gave him a quick wink. 

Power thrummed through Mike’s blood as he followed Y/N into his room, catching the door before it could close. His fingers curled around the edge of the wood, his gaze locking onto hers. He was still hard from her teasing over an hour ago, but he wasn’t going to get back at her. She’d won – he was going to have her. Now. But he’d ruin her along the way.

Mike forced himself through the door, shutting it softly behind her, the click of the lock cutting through the silence like a knife. Mike stepped forward until his chest brushed hers. She was barely breathing, pupils blown wide with desire and anticipation. They only had fifteen minutes or so, but Mike didn’t jump into action. He let his eyes wander down her frame, fingers looping a lock of silky hair around his finger.

He’d always thought Y/N was beautiful – long before he had the language for it, before he even understood what a crush was supposed to feel like. Before, it had been simple and easy, something warm that sat quietly in his chest. But as the years passed, that feeling sharpened, growing heavier, more real. Puberty complicated everything, layering want and restlessness over something that had once felt innocent, until it became almost unbearable to carry. He didn’t know if it was love – didn’t really know what love was – but he knew he liked this space they occupied together, this game they were playing. And even with change looming on the horizon, about to tip the balance towards something more spoken and solid, he wanted to keep playing.

Mike glanced at the clock on his desk. He’d spent three minutes looking at her. Shit. He opened his bedroom door, and spoke across the hall at the closed bathroom door. “Max?”

The shuffling behind the door stopped. “...Yeah?”

“Stall.” He didn’t wait for a response, slamming the door and storming back to Y/N. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, throwing her onto the bed. When she made to rise, Mike pushed her down between her shoulder blades until her chest pressed against the bed. With both hands, he pushed the sweater up to her shoulders before yanking her ass into the air by the hips. He flipped her skirt up, inhaling through his teeth at the sight of her red panties, a wet patch at her core. Mike pushed her legs apart, furthering the arch in her back.

“Jesus, fuck. Don’t move.” He snatched his camera off the desk, and snapped the picture, the flash reflecting in the mirror. The dual image of her in real life and her in the mirror was beautiful. She looked completely wrecked, eyes unseeing, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Mike tossed the camera on the mattress, kissing the round globe of her ass. She pushed back into his face, her moan turning into a gasp when he bit into the soft flesh. He kneaded the other with one hand.

“Been wanting this for so long, Y/N. Dreamed of this.”

“Mike,” she whimpered.

He arched her back further, rolling her hips until that pretty little wet spot nearly faced the ceiling. He leaned down until his mouth was practically on her. “Look in the mirror.”

The moment she did, Mike buried his face in her, mouthing her clothed pussy. He felt her thighs clench beneath his hands, a tortured moan slipping out of her. She rocked her hips back again, eyes half-rolled.

“Eyes on me, baby.” Mike watched her fight to meet his eyes through the mirror, nearly losing to the sensations. “You look so pretty, Y/N. Fuck, you’re fucking beautiful.”

“Mike. Please.” Y/N reached back with one hand, but he caught her before she could move her panties to the side and pinned her wrist to the small of her back. She whimpered, fingers curling into nothing. Feeling somewhat merciful, he slipped his hand in hers, squeezing. “Please don’t stop.”

He nipped at the cotton, humming when she gasped. He must have gotten more than fabric. “I won’t, baby. I promise I won’t. Can you be good?”

Y/N nodded. “Yes,” she whined. “I can. I will.”

Mike squeezed her hand. “Keep it there.” He pulls his hand away, lifting his mouth slightly to pull her underwear to the side, wrapping it around the curve of her ass to keep it there. She was swollen and puffy, her arousal smeared all over. Mike reached back for her hand, his other sliding up the back of her thigh, ghosting over where she wanted him. In the mirror, her eyes widened with desperate anticipation. Mike kept his gaze locked with Y/N’s through the mirror as he slid his middle finger through her folds and pushed the digit inside her.

“Yes.” There was something undeniably sexy watching her eyes roll through the mirror, her free hand gripping his pillow. He dropped a kiss on her bum, peppering them up and down the back of her thigh while he added a second finger.

Tighter now, the sound of moving air joined the squelch as Mike fingerfucked Y/N, slowly picking up speed, slowing down when she clenched around him and didn’t relax. A frustrated whine echoed through his room. “Mike!”

He laughed lowly, lips ghosting her skin. “It’s what you get for teasing me with all those photos, Y/N. You gotta pay the price.” He wrenched his fingers out—

“Ohmygo– fuck, Mike!”—and put his mouth on her instead. He didn’t start slow. He assaulted every part of her that he could reach, fingers bruising her thigh. Her hand pulled at his when she jolted in shock. 

“Fuck, this pussy tastes like heaven.” He ran the flat of his tongue downward, circling her clit with the tip. Her hips rolled, trying to get closer to his mouth. He let her, sucking on the oversensitive nub until a choked sob broke past her lips. 

“Mike.”

“Fuck,” he said against her pussy. “I love it when you say my name like that. So fucking needy.”

“Mike.” The moan was loud and unapologetic. 

“Yeah, baby. Just like that.” Her fingers tightened around his as she rocked her body, grinding up against him. Oh, hell yes. “You gonna come, Little Red?” he teased, using his free hand to stroke her clit. He needed her to. 

Y/N nodded into the comforter. “Fingers.”

Mike licked a bold stripe up her again. “No. You’re coming on my mouth. Wanna taste you more.” But he did press harder on her clit, rubbing tight, precise circles. Y/N’s hips jerked. Her eyes had begun to glaze over in the mirror, and he knew she was moments from tipping over the edge.

“Mike–”

“I know, baby. Let go.” He pinched her clit and she did, burying her face into his pillows as she screamed, hips jerking towards and away from him. Mike worked her through the orgasm, softening his licks until she was spent, fighting to get away from him.

The clock on Mike’s desk told him they had seven of the fifteen minutes left, plus whatever Max gave them. Plenty of time. Mike reached for his zipper, the sound making Y/N freeze. She was halfway raised on her hands, eyes flying to his.

“Mike…”

“We’re not done yet.” He dipped his chin, making it clear what he wanted. Cautiously, Y/N lowered herself, but Mike saw the excitement in her eyes as she stretched her arms out in front of her, burying them under his pillows. “Look at me, Y/N.”

She met his eyes in the mirror.

“I’m gonna fuck this pussy. And I don’t want you to look away. Got it?”

Y/N whimpered, nodding. Mike watched her through the mirror for a second longer, before looking down. Her pussy was a slick mess, red and puffier than before, but he still felt the desire to spread her wider with his hands and spit. It landed right on her pussy, and Mike watched with rapt fascination as she clenched, as if trying to swallow it whole.

“Fuck, that was hot.”

Mike smirked at Y/N, who hadn’t looked away, and grabbed the camera. “Smile, slut.”

Y/N didn’t, but her face in the photo was more beautiful than a smile could ever be in that moment. She looked ravished with flushed cheeks and mascara smudged under her eyes. The bottom of the photo caught her bare pussy, his spit shining.

But Y/N hadn’t been ruined yet, and that was Mike’s goal. His cock was flushed deep red, painfully hard at being so neglected. It was slick with precum, but Mike still ran it through Y/N’s folds, coating it with her cum and arousal.

Click. Another photo. 

“Mike.” A pointed huff mixed with a subtle shift of her hips.

Mike smiled, checking out the photo as it developed. “Our photography project is gonna be fucking amazing, baby.”

“You are not showing Mr. Wright a photo of my pussy.”

“You’re right.” Mike tossed the camera and photograph aside. “This pussy’s all mine.” He pushed in steadily, not stopping until he’d bottomed out.

“Ohmygoood…Mike.”

Oh my God was right. Y/N was tight, resisting him in the best way while he’d pushed in inch after inch before finally stretching for him. His ears rang at just how snug she felt, clenching around every inch of him. His fingers dug into her hips hard enough to hurt and finally – finally – he moved.

Mike pulled out nearly all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt again. 

Y/N screamed. It was choked and wrecked and everything Mike had only ever dreamed of hearing. He did it again and again, pounding into Y/N with years of unrequited feelings and lust. He’d dreamed of fucking Y/N in just about a hundred positions, and this was only one and it felt amazing. 

“Oh. Fuck, Mike.”

“You feel so good, Y/N. Such a good fucking slut.”

Y/N sobbed. “…Slut.”

“You like it when I call you a slut?” Mike propped a foot on the bed. “Fuck you like the slut you are?”

“Yes. God, yes!”

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good.” Mike’s head tipped back in ecstasy, eyes closing. The feeling of her stretching around him as he thrust inside her, the sound of skin slapping, all the denial he’d been through the past week. “My slut does such a good job of milking my fucking cock.”

Click. Mike’s eyes snapped open. Whirrr went the Polaroid as it printed the film. He could only imagine the image as the camera slipped through Y/N fingers at a particularly rough thrust, her back arching with a gasp. 

“Shit, Mike,” she breathed.

“Don’t be quiet,” he cooed, his hips rolling. “Wanna hear you.”

“Make me.” Even with his cock buried inside her, she found it in her to fight. She pushed her hips back into his, gasping as he hit her cervix. “Jesus. Fuck.”

Adjusting his grip on Y/N’s hips, Mike angled deeper, setting a punishing pace that tore a gasp from Y/N with every hit to her cervix. “That’s better. But I want more. Scream for me, baby.”

“Make me scream,” she threatened, but her voice was breathless and it came out more like the beg he knew it was. Mike chuckled, continuing to thrust in and out of Y/N as he reached for the camera with one hand and her hair with the other, gathering it at the base of her neck and giving it a testing tug. “Eyes on me.”

Mike didn’t think Y/N could with the way her whole body had begun to tremble. Still, she raised her head, glossy eyes finding his in the dirty reflection, her arms under her chest and his sweater bunched around her shoulder. Mike tugged firmly on her hair, pulling Y/N’s head up and baring her throat.

Click.

“Mike, I– fuck. Please don’t stop.”

“You gonna come?”

Y/N’s lips parted, eyes rolling. “Uh-huh.”

“God, you’re falling apart. Such a fucking slut. Good sluts get permission.”

“Please!” Y/N cried, tears welling in her eyes. “Fuck, Mike. Please let me come. I wanna come all over your cock. Pleasepleaseplease.”

Mike’s heart beat in time with the sound of skin slapping and Y/N’s harsh pants. He felt that familiar tightening at the base of his spine. He had maybe a minute, but Y/N was chanting underneath him like she had seconds. He fought to keep his thrusts consistent – deep, hard, fast. 

Punishing. 

He fucked her hard enough to bruise. To ruin.

“You know what I want.”

“Mike!” The scream tore from Y/N with a vengeance, her fingers clawing for purchase in his sheets. Her entire body locked beneath him as she came, clenching around Mike so hard she nearly pushed him out. Her walls fluttered and her back arched and Mike had never seen something so beautiful. He pushed himself closer to the edge, hips threatening to stutter.

Mike’s head fell back again, his pending orgasm about to take him under. “Shit, Y/N. M’gonna come.”

Fingers dug into the flesh of his ass, pulling him tighter. Y/N watched him, eyes barely open. She was way past overstimulated, her lips parted. She squeezed, her message clear. Mike’s eyes rolled and he used the last of his energy to bury himself to the hilt in Y/N’s flooded cunt, groaning his release. His vision went white as he came, Y/N’s walls still fluttering around him. When his vision finally cleared, Y/N was panting hard beneath him. 

He pulled out slowly but Y/N still hissed, hips jerking. Her ass still in the air, he watched her pussy clench, pushing out the milky white of his release. Yeah, he was gonna need to memorialize that.

Click.

Mike threw the camera on the bed, gently lowering Y/N’s thighs to the bed, kissing up the back of one, over her bum, and up her spine. When he got to her neck, he pressed one solid kiss there, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Such a good slut.”

[fawn-ism]

RINK-O-MANIA! 𓏲ּ𝄢

cheating!mike x byers!reader

everyone is 18+

warnings - cheating, vaginal fingering, oral sex, oral in public, making out, finger sucking, & drinking cum

word count - 1k

banner credit - @uzmacchiato

this can be found on my ao3!

masterlist. taglist. intro.

in which . . .

at rink-o-mania, y/n gets fingered by mike in the bathroom while his girlfriend and her brother are in the building!

while skating at rink-o-mania, you couldn't help but fixate on mike's face— having not seen him in a year.

he had undoubtedly grown taller and gotten more handsome. his hair had grown significantly since the last time you saw him.

other than that, he was still the same, skinny boy you'd fell in love with at 6 years old.

"y/n!" will snapped, voice loud as you lost your train of thought.

snapping back to reality, your head turned sharply to him. "what?" you questioned, voice seeming more annoyed than you intended.

“are you even listening?” he exclaimed, his hands flying out in frustration. it was clear he had been engrossed in telling a story until he realized you weren't even paying attention.

you turned your head back to the pair in front of you. mike and jane— holding hands while skating together. it seemed as if jane was struggling to skate, while mike helped her.

you couldn't remember ever seeing mike skate within the 13 years that you'd known him. unexpected jealousy coursed through your veins.

did he learn how to roller skate just for jane?

did he pay a hundred dollars for his own pair and take hours out of his day just for her?

does she make him moan her name the way you make him?

"uh, yeah, no, i'm listening." you turned back to will, a small smile growing on your face, your voice intendedly getting louder. "it's just.. my socks are itchy and a little too tight. i think i need a different pair."

"oh," he nodded. "okay, well, do you want me to come with you?-"

"i'll go with you!" a voice called from ahead of you.

your head snapped forward, seeing mike staring back at you. he smiled warmly, turning to will. "take jane's hand, will 'ya?"

"uh, yeah-" will stuttered, skating forward and grabbing jane's hand, substituting for mike.

you caught up to mike, settling next to him. "come on," he whispered, grabbing your hand and leading you off the rink.

after a few moments, you both adjusted to the feeling of skating on the floor, making your way to one of the bathrooms.

in just seconds, skates were off while the bathroom door slammed shut.

"okay," mike started, setting you on—one of the many—sink counters. "we only have–" he spoke between kisses. "a couple minutes."

you settled on the counter, pulling away from mike's puffy, pink lips.

he quickly started to remove your blue skirt, panties sliding off along with them. he tossed them in the empty sink, tongue slipping in your mouth as he did so.

mike pulled away, head making it's way between your spread legs.

the pad of his thumb slowly started rubbing tight circles on your clit, spreading your juices, which resulted in a small moan escaping your throat.

"fuck, you're so wet already." he removed his thumb, you whimpering at the loss of contact. though, your satisfaction returned easily when his fingers made their way down to your hole.

his slowly pushed one finger in, your hips twitching. the finger started to move instinctively, mike adjusting to the not so new feeling he hadn't felt in a year.

mike's mouth hovered over your clit, opening his lips and sucking on it gently while his finger curled inside you.

a loud moan escaped you, but it was quickly cut off when his left hand covered your mouth.

"y/n, you have to be quiet." he said, mouth pulling off your clit. though, he made that completely impossible when he shoved another finger in you.

his fingers started to move faster, curling as they hit your g-spot in the place that mike had never forgot. he memorized your gummy walls like the back of his hand.

"you know," mike teased, fingers still pounding in you as he spoke. "jane could walk in at any moment. the doors unlocked." he mentioned, which made your closed eyes flutter open as they darted to the doorknob, seeing that it was infact unlocked.

"do you really want her to walk in and see her own sister getting fingered by her boyfriend? hm?" he whispered, a smug smile growing on his face.

you felt bad about the whole thing, truly. jane was such an important person in your life. but as much as you loved her, you loved mike's cock even more.

"mike, i'm gonna-" you whispered, feeling your climax rise. it was impossible for it not to whenever mike's fingers were in you.

"don't." he commanded, pulling his fingers out completely. "don't cum yet."

you whimpered at the loss of contact, needing to release. "mike-"

"y/n, i know you can. just wait, okay?" he pleaded. when you nodded, he started sucking hard on your clit, his three, long fingers pounding in you, curling and hitting your walls.

your back arched, head hitting the mirror slightly.

mike removed his fingers and started aggressively eating you out, thumb circling your clit like the champ he was.

"oh my god-" you groaned louder than you intended to.

"cum for me." he ordered, tongue fucking you. it slipped in and out of you perfectly.

just as he said, you came. your juices coated your inner thighs, his face and fingers, and the counter.

he kept eating you out through your orgasm, helping you through the high.

when it started to slow down, he removed his tongue from your hole. instead, it started lapping at your thighs and pussy, licking up all your juices.

after a couple moments, his fingers lifted to your mouth, lifting your chin slightly.

"open." he guided.

your mouth opened almost immediately.

"suck."

his fingers entered your mouth, the warmth of it sucking all your juices.

your tongue moved at the taste of you, sucking gently on his long, veiny fingers.

"good girl." mike whispered, removing his fingers and keeping his hands steady at your sides, kissing you gently.

he pulled away slightly, staring at you attentively.

"well, we should probably leave. don't want jane to know about us, do we?" he questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

you shook your head. "of course not."

"don't worry," he assured, quickly kissing you again. "when we get back to your house, i can fuck you all night in your bed."

you smiled excitedly. "i'm looking forward to it."

[pittofdespair]

The feeling of getting comments on your fics is the craziest thing. Like, I wrote this in my free time because it's something I wanted to read and someone thought it was good or it made their day and they took the time to tell me that??? Incomparable.

[sloanetherapper]

comments make my entire day

[autvmnangels]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ HUMAN ANATOMY

| steve tries to embarrass both you and mike when he meets your parents for the first time (harrington!reader)

you sat anxiously at your vanity, brushing makeup over your face as you stared back at your reflection, heart practically jumping out of your chest. tonight, your boyfriend, mike was coming over to meet your parents for the first time over some sort of meal your mother was cooking up in the kitchen. there were nerves about that, your mother and father approving of him, but there was one person in particular you were more worried about.

steve, to be quite frank.

steve was your older brother, and the king of hawkins high in his day. you were viewed of something as a successor to him, your features and charming personality perfectly mirroring his so well any teacher could guess with a long sigh and a pinch of the nose bridge that the two of you were siblings. the only thing different however was the grades, which left a lot of teachers surprised when correcting your exams.

despite being so similar, you and steve didnt exactly see eye to eye. in terms of mike wheeler, that was.

for some reason, whenever mike and steve were within a two meter distance of each other, the two would start fighting like cats. snapping insults back and forth at each other, flipping one another off, sometimes even becoming physical with harsh nudges to ribs or a deliberate foot sticking out as the other walked by.

you couldnt figure out why exactly steve hated mike so much, but you assumed it was to do with the fact that steve believed he had full authority over you, and could choose who was and wasnt good enough for his baby sister.

in steve's eyes, mike was some sort of punk who had nothing but erotic intentions when it came to sweet y/n harrington, and he had to do everything in his power to stop mike from following through with these intentions.

you were particularly nervous about steve because you knew he wouldnt be civil with mike, and therefore mike wouldnt be civil with him. -and if you knew anything about your boyfriend, it was that he was going to match the energy he was receiving.

"coming!" you yelled from your room, the sound of your mother's voice calling your name snapping you out of your thoughts. you left your room, walking down the stairs to find both of your parents lingering by the door. god, was he really here already?

"steve! get over here now and greet this boy!" your mother whisper-yelled, steve turning around from his position on the sofa, giving you a look that told you he'd rather do anything else. you gave him a serious look, your nose almost twitching as he rolled his eyes and rose from the couch, walking toward you and standing next to you with crossed arms.

"if your rude to him, ill fucking kill you." you whispered, just as a knock on the door sounded, giving steve no time to even scoff or respond to your words. your mother opened the door, revealing a cold looking mike with red cheeks and bouquet of flowers in one hand.

your mother and father greeted him, mike giving you a smile and a thumbs up from his side only you were meant to see when he handed the flowers to your mother and revealed they were for her. "nice touch, wheeler" you thought, a smile on your lips as you heard a faint "jesus" fall from steve's mouth.

"honey, he's handsome!" your mother whispered as you shushed her quickly, her arms leading you into the kitchen, leaving steve and mike behind in silence.

"listen, man. i need to make a good impression tonight, yeah? dont fuck this up for me." mike said, arms crossed over his chest as steve ran a hand through his hair, an expression of annoyance on his face.

"yeah, whatever wheeler. but seriously, flowers for my mom?" steve scoffed, leaving mike furrowing his brows, his head tilted slightly.

"and what about it, harrington? pissed you didnt think of it when you met my mom? oh, and how long was your relationship with my sister again? was it....five, six months?" mike said, steve's mouth slightly open as he searched for something to say.

"you slick little fuck." he seethed under his breath, his blood practically boiling as mike gave him a wink before following after you into the kitchen to the dining table.

you made sure mike was sat next to you when you all sat down to eat, and absolutely nowhere near steve. you had the two of them on completely opposite ends of the table, to be frank, way out of kicking distance from one another.

like you predicted, your mom began interogating mike as the five of you ate, asking him who he hung out with, how his grades were, what he wanted to be when he was older, and you managed to witness every time steve rolled his eyes when mike gave a perfect, almost satisfying answer to every question your parents asked.

you found yourself blushing at how good he was at this. he knew exactly what to say, and could even throw in a few jokes to get your father laughing too. you just knew steve was loosing his mind on the other end of the table.

there was a moment of silence once your father had finished up talking to mike about something to do with mike's father being a golfer, where steve finally decided to make his dinner conversation debut, much to your dismay.

"mike's really smart too, right y/n? he tutors half the kids in your grade." steve said, your brows furrowing suspiciously as you nodded slowly, your eyes narrowing at your brother.

"oh wow, what subjects?" your mother asked curiously, dropping her fork to listen to mike as he cleared his throat, his gaze swapping between you and steve as he anticipated some sort of punchline to steve's statement.

"uh- math, chemistry, physics and biology." he answered, looking at you with a shit eating grin and raised brows as your mother and father exhanged a glance of approval.

"dork." you mumbled, giving him an affectionate nudge as steve on the other hand prepared to make another statement.

"yeah, your particularly good at that biology stuff, right mike?" steve said, his voice laced with fake interest and curiosity as mike nodded, however his dark brown eyes were looming on steve as if trying to warn him not to say whatever he was planning to next.

"you do that stuff with y/n, dont you?" steve said, leaning back in his chair as your head snapped in his direction.

"overheard you guys on tuesday. and monday. and friday. i think it was– human anatomy, right?” steve said, and by now, you and mike were slowly looking at each other, back at steve who was looking as smug as ever, and then at your parents who were thankfully oblivious.

mike had not been tutoring you on tuesday, monday or friday. he had been fucking you into your headboard for a solid hour while the two of you believed you could be as loud as you wanted. however, you were thoroughly mistaken regarding the idea that the two of you were home alone.

“fuck me.” mike whispered under his breath, only loud enough for you to hear as you gripped his hand under the table, the two of you glaring at steve as mike picked up his glass off the table, bringing it to his lips.

“that’s good news. glad to know your helping our daughter stay on top of her work.” your father said, mike nodding in response as he drank some of the water in his cup.

“not the only thing he has her on top of.” steve mumbled, leaving mike choking on the water he was currently drinking, and your face turning completely red as you held your head in your hands.

“what was that, honey?” your mother said, looking toward steve as he shrugged, a smug expression on his face as mike wiped his mouth, his brown eyes glaring at steve intensely as you bit down on your bottom lip, with your eyes screwed shut.

dinner ended shortly after that, and you ended up in the kitchen helping your mom and dad wash up as mike and steve were left alone in the living room together.

the second they knew they were alone, the two of them turned to each other, mike leaning forward with nothing but rage plastered on his face.

“seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?” mike spat, leaving steve to scoff, running a hand through his hair as the older man almost laughed.

“you brought that on yourself, wheeler.” he shrugged, mike’s knuckles practically turning white as he stared at steve.

“and you brought it up at a fucking dinner table with your parents there, harrington.” mike scoffed, rolling his eyes as he slumped back in the armchair he was sat in.

“ok, wheeler. sorry for calling you out over doing that in my house to my little sister with me in the next room. you have my utmost love and respect.” steve seethed sarcastically, leaving mike sitting up once again out of complete disbelief.

“are you kidding me? we’re eighteen, steve! eighteen year olds fuck, ok? she’s not a fucking child.” mike said, his words leaving steve with his head in his hands as he groaned.

“grow up. fucking payback for when i had to witness you sneaking through nancy’s window every goddamn night.” he continued, steve genuinely looking at him in utter shock.

“god, what is wrong with you? why did it have to be you? honestly, i would’ve been ok with sinclair– henderson, even. even that creep who works at the radio shack.” steve mumbled, leaving mike furrowing his brows.

“dude, that guy at the radio shack asked me “how much for one night with her” with y/n stood right next to me when i was trying to pay for the goonies last week. could’ve been much worse for you.” mike shrugged, watching in amusement as steve’s head snapped up in his direction.

“is that a joke? god wheeler, you better have slapped the shit out of him.” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose as mike ran a hand through his hair.

“lucas and i figured out what days he works on and what time he gets off at, and apparently he’s been weird to max as well. we’ve got a slingshot, a lot of sharp rocks, and plans for saturday night at 9pm. i’ll leave that up to interpretation.” mike said, a smile creeping onto his face as steve let out a light laugh.

“guess it could’ve been worse.” he shrugged, mike tilting his head at steve with a little smirk in response to his words.

“am i dreaming or was that a compliment, harrington?” he said, watching as steve let out a scoff, something of a smile lingering on his face.

“don’t get too ahead of yourself, wheeler.” he mumbled, his head turning around to find you stood in the doorway, a little smile on your face as your gaze hopped from mike to steve.

“am i crazy, or are you two actually smiling around one another?” you said, walking over to the armchair mike was sat on and leaning against the side of it.

“nope.” the two boys said in unison, leaving you to scoff and roll your eyes in response to the two boys.

[bumblebeefics]

☮︎⋅⋆˖˙ sad headcanons .✦ ݁˖ m.w

[ mike wheeler X NA ] genre/tags: headcanons, angst, sad. suicidal thoughts and attempts, depression, mentions of character death, season 5 spoilers, possible swearing, intended lowercase. [ req? yes/no. ]

☆ wc: 0.4k masterlist | st masterlist | fw masterlist

☆ taglist: @floswirtz @memorylanee @nikki-89 @danedehannie @mosquitooo1 @bruisedletters

after el's death he represses all his emotions and basically shuts down. he'll just turn out like his father if he keeps doing this btw.

he blames himself for her death and he always will because he built the bomb.

he'll never get married. he might have a few girlfriends/flings over the years, but nothing too serious, it was more so an attempt at a distraction, or to feel something.

he does not view himself as a hero whatsoever, because in his mind he failed.

he has the same nightmare every night — the same night, the same fear — but it never plays out exactly the same way twice. small details change. different choices. different outcomes. his brain keeps replaying it like a broken simulation, searching desperately for a version where he did more.

he can't say her name out loud for a long time. it catches in his throat, like his body refuses to accept that it's past tense now.

he stops planning ahead. college, moving, adulthood — it all feels pointless without her. like the future was something they were supposed to face together. he didn't listen to hopper.

he starts measuring his worth entirely by the night she died. everything before feels irrelevant. everything after feels borrowed almost.

mike convinces himself the world only kept him because it needed a witness. once everyone else heals, he won't be necessary anymore and he catches himself thinking about how peaceful it would be to stop trying so hard to stay afloat.

he stops taking care of himself in subtle ways first. skipping meals. staying up too late. not correcting people when they worry. like he's testing how invisible he can become.

he feels like staying alive is a betrayal of her sacrifice. like he's cheating death she paid for. on his worst nights, he tells himself that if he were gone, at least the guilt would finally have somewhere to end.

now whether or not this would be 2 years, 6 years, 15 years, or 40 years down the line, i guess we'll never know, but eventually he does attempt. he feels unbearably tired. not sleepy - tired in his bones. tired of remembering. tired of holding himself together so no one else has to worry. if he succeeded then everyone around him will blame themselves for not realizing sooner, if he doesn't they'll still be there either way regardless of how long they haven't talked.

this doesn't help him regardless and he'll likely keep doing it again until one day someone either helps him get help, or he does succeed.

[sloanetherapper]

new fic soon due to that massive snow coming to the south 🫡🫡 it’s not like i’ll have anything better to do

[sloanetherapper]

writing fanfic during my stats class

[sloanetherapper]

people hating on finn for his snl episode is sooo weird. like… snl has always been a raunchy show? that’s why it’s funny?

[lvrsturniolo]

˗ˏˋin which boyfriend!chris has a dumbification kink ´ˎ˗

warnings; major dumbification kink. smut. unprotected p in v. softdom!chris x sub!reader. creampie.

A/N; this ideas been in my head ALL day cus it’s hot 💔

Your knees were already shaking by the time chris pulled you into his lap.

His hoodie swallowed you up. Your underwear was somewhere on the floor. And Chris’s hands were holding your hips like he’d die if you moved even an inch away from him.

He kissed you carefully as his hands guided you down onto him, spreading you open over his cock until he was all the way in, bottomed out deep inside you, and your eyes went wide.

“Fuck, there you go sweet girl,” he groaned against your mouth. “Just like that. So perfect for me.”

Your head dropped back with a gasp. You were so full. He felt like too much in the best way — the way he was so slow grinding up into you had you twitching already, your brain felt like mush.

And he hadn’t even started really moving yet.

“Look at you,” he whispered, kissing down your jaw. “Already goin’ dumb for me, baby?”

You whimpered, hands gripping his shoulders.

Chris smiled at you all sweet, but his eyes held something dark. The need, the obsession with how fast he could turn your thoughts into nothing.

He moved his hips in deep, slow thrusts, just enough to press hard into that spongy spot inside you — and your moan cracked halfway through.

“There it is,” he murmured, stroking your hips. “That’s it, baby. Feel good?”

You nodded frantically, lips parted, drool already gathiering in the corner of your mouth.

Chris cupped your jaw.

“Feel good, baby?” he whispered again. “You like goin’ dumb on my cock? Yeah?”

You let out the softest, most desperate noise. Your hips were twitching and grinding down onto him, all you could feel was pleasure, your thoughts all blending into how good he felt. You were trying to tell him, but you couldn’t even

Chris smiled like you were the most precious thing on earth. “You don’t have to talk baby,” he breathed, brushing your sweaty hair from your face. “Just feel it. Just let me make you feel good, pretty girl.”

You whimpered in response, head dropping forward as your shoulders tremble. Chris could feel how tight you were squeezing him, how wet you were — your slick dripping down to his thighs, your sobs filling the room making it hard for him to think too.

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, hands gripping your waist to help you bounce. “So fucking sweet like this. My dumb girl.”

“C-Chri—Chris—” you tried, but it came out slurred.

Your tongue slipped out. Your jaw hung open. And a thick line of drool slid from your bottom lip down to your chest and Chris nearly came from just the sight of it.

“Ohhh, baby,” he groaned, slowing for a second to kiss your cheek. “Y’droolin’. You’re really gone from my cock, huh?”

You cried out and rocked your hips down again, chasing friction like it was the only thing you could think about, which it was.

Chris grabbed your hips, sat back on his knees, and started fucking up into you hard, his thighs slapping against your ass, the room echoing with the sound of your bodies colliding. You were shaking, your hands clutching at his hoodie before he whispered a small, “Take it, baby. Just sit pretty and let me fuck you dumb, yeah? You love that. Love watchin’ you go dumb for me.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your legs shook uncontrollably.

Chris reached between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing fast and tight circles and you screamed. Your whole body locked up. Your orgasm hit so hard you slumped, totally boneless in his arms, drooling all over his chest as he fucked you through it.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Cum f’me, baby. Let go. Just like that baby girl.”

You couldn’t speak— couldn’t even moan.

Just breathy sobs and soft cries as your thighs spasmed and your cunt fluttered around him until he couldn’t take it anymore — slamming deep inside you one last time and groaning into your mouth as he came, his hips jerking, painting your walls white.

Then the room was silent. You were limp in his lap, still shaking.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered, wiping your drool with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You did so good, pretty. My sweet girl.”

You made a small sound as a yes, letting him know you were fine.

He kissed your forehead. “I love you— s-so fucking much.” he whispered, curling around your body, still deep inside.

A/N: I’m baaaack, sorry if this is buns i genuinely haven’t touched writing in so long. But I’ve missed u guys

🏷️: @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @ivysturnss @riasturns @slvt4chriss @iloveduckssm @sloanetherapper @auttysturnz @conspiracy-ash @harlieissigma @ribbonlovergirl

[sloanetherapper]

godbless she’s back

[sloanetherapper]

got a new funko yesterday 😛

pic courtesy of @delaphiine

[sheislucifer]

let me make myself very clear, on this blog its:

fuck donald trump

fuck ICE

immigrants are not illegal

free palestine

black lives have and will always matter

trans rights forever and always

pro choice

healthcare should be free

house the homeless

keep religion out of schools

LGBTQ+ rights

fuck the tories

if you dont agree, fuck off.

[danedehannie]

What kind of fucked up fantasy. Co star! + Ghostface! Finn Wolfhard x Fem! Reader nsfw 18+ minor ffs dni

tw-incs: degrading, mean finn, dom finn, sub reader, pornography, making out, p n v, protection (wrap it before you tap it silly), choking, knife play, mask kink, torture, voyeurism, oral male receiving, humiliation, filming, fem! Masturbation, cum play, edging, pwp?

if theres anything i missed lemme know ^

Summary: scene went horny ?

2.5k word count

Not fully proof read

If you don’t like anything written in this, just don't read it <3 

——————————

Both you and Finn are on set of the new scream movie, Finn is playing ghost face and you just so happen to be one of the victims that he has to kill.

Bloody and messy. but somehow oddly sexy but you can’t get over how fucking hot he looks.

Crawling away from him, you can't help to actually feel slightly frightened seeing him rip off the mask giving you a malicious smile making your insides turn. watching him inch slowly towards you. Flipping the knife over the back side of his hand, backing you into a corner.

You start feeling the tears rolling down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you hit the wall having nowhere else to run.

He looks at you with a dark look in his eyes.

'What's wrong baby, it's like you've seen a ghost' watching his lips turn into a frown.

'Don't you wanna come a little closer?' he whispers, his mouth turning into a smug smirk. He grabs you by the neck, pulling you up the wall just at eye level with him.

He laughs watching you flinch at his touch.

That wasn't in the script.

He finally drops you. knees pressed to the floor looking down in defeat and pain.

You make out what sounds shuffling behind you, hearing soft but slow footsteps. Finally stopping behind you, feeling a hand pushing you roughly on the dingy basement floor. landing straight on your cheek, feeling dizzy you start crawling towards the nearest exit, trying to find a way out of this hellscape.

Flash click

Hearing what sounds like a camera taking a picture.

You start to feel your face getting hot, breathing heavily. the camera directors start wondering if they should just cut and let you have a breather for a second and pick back up in 20 minutes, concerned at the fact you genuinely look terrified.

But you're nothing but just incredibly turned on right now

Feeling a hand grasp around your throat pulling your head up, eyes landing directly on a phone screen. He starts pressing a couple buttons, you are now face to face with how you look right.

You look absolutely fucked out and tortured.

Glancing at him, smiling behind your head, pulling the mask back on.

His hand lets go of your throat, dragging his hand back pulling your head back, bunching your hair back in a messy ponytail. you wince at the sharp pain at the base of your scalp. feeling the wetness pool in your panties.

What the fuck is wrong with you, this is your co star for fuck sakes.

'Smile for me ' he says viciously in your ear, making you moan.

Flash click

Dropping your head, pulling your head up by your chin placing the knife against your neck.

CUT

You breathe out, Finn pulling you into a hug.

'you alright' he says, barely audible with the staff behind the camera yelling at each other about the scene  'maybe it's a bit too much ' ‘ next scene in 1 hour everyone be ready then’ worrying about your well being, 

To be be completely honest you were more worried about how fucking turned on you were right now. not knowing what to do, you run to the nearest bathroom giving yourself a minute to process what happened

Looking in the mirror, you were an absolute mess. all the makeup done by the team streaming down your face. Big black circles lay under your eyes. Mascara trailing down your cheeks. 

You look horrible.

Taking a couple deep breaths and you start walking out of the bathroom trying not to make eye contact with anyone on the team, rushing to your trailer. 

——————————

Water falling your back feeling everything wash off of you, taking the time to wash off your make up. 

You hear an aggressive knock on your door.

Quickly drying yourself off, grabbing the robe hanging off the door running over to the other side of your trailer opening the door to see no one standing there. You feel a cold breeze blow against the back of your legs. 

The windows open, you don't remember leaving it open. 

You feel an eerie presence behind you, glancing back seeing a man with a mask on.

‘Finn?’ Hopefully making him say something, you can tell it's him by the way his hand is wrapped around the knife in his. Finn just sits there and says nothing, just staring at you. Feeling his eyes glaze over your body, burning a hole right through you.

Even though you can't see his eyes you know exactly how they look right now, filled with lust.

You apparently weren't the only one who was turned on in that scene. 

This dark twisted fantasy guys were playing out right now, had your knees wobbling not really knowing how you were standing right now. Seeing the hottest man alive basically eye fucking through a mask right now just waiting for you to bow down and worship him. Hearing his thumb tap against the side of his thigh, getting impatient now. 

You lower yourself to your knees, look at him through the mask. Your eyes trailing over him, watching the way the black skin tight thermal hugged his body and nicely insinuates his biceps. 

Now you were eye fucking him cause fuck who wouldnt, this man is basically shaped like the statue of David himself.

You crawl your way over to him, keeping eye contact as you slowly reach his knees. Resting your head on them, looking up at him with pleading eyes asking for permission.

He grabs your hand, moving them over his body. Up under his shirt feeling his hot skin, slowly guiding your hand down to his bulge. 

He was harder than a rock. 

You start palming him through his jeans looking up at him, watching his head tilt back. Finally being able to see some sort of skin from under that mask.

Slowly you start unzipping his jeans, rubbing your face up against his bulge under his boxers, lips grazing up his shaft, hearing his breath hitch at the feeling of your lips just almost touching him. 

He still hasn't said a word this entire time.

You look up at him hoping he will say something, anything. He grabs you by the hair, letting his free hand pull his boxers down releasing his cock.

Your eyes winded at how big he was, how pink the tip looks. He pulls your hair harder making tears well up in your eyes. 

‘ Suck ‘ 

He demands, pushing your face down on his cock. Pulling you up slightly so you can open your mouth, circling your tongue around the tip, his hand still in your hair the other place over his mouth, the mask slightly moving it up so you can see the bottom half of his face. 

Fuck Finn looked heavenly. His mouth slightly a jar breathing heavily into his hand. 

You open your mouth more, taking more of him in, he can feel you going deeper, feeling your throat close around his girth as you slowly start bobbing your head up and down. You bottom out around his cock, your nose muffled into his stomach making it unable to breathe as he holds your head down watching the tears roll down your cheeks. 

He takes his hand from under the mask pulling it up off his head, eyes meeting his brown eyes dark and filled with lust as he tilts his head back groaning pleasure, he slowly swallows as you watch his adams apple bob up then back down. 

Feeling the wetness down your thighs, you move your hand down to spread your lips apart slowly circling your clit.

Moaning around his cock, he lifts his hand from your hair letting you breathe. You feel him start twitching in your mouth, feeling his seed flow down your throat. 

Swallowing every bit of it. 

‘ Fuck ‘ 

He moans as you watch his eyebrows furrow together as he comes down from his high. He once again grabs you by the hair pulling you up towards him, meeting his eyes once again. Just like how you guys looked at each other in the scene.

‘ You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do this. ‘ 

He breaths in your ear, moving down to nibble at your ear lobe, his lips slowly connecting with your neck. Kissing up your cheek, his lips engulfing yours. Your tongue tangles with his moaning into it, lowering yourself down onto his lap. You reach down untying your robe, he releases his lips from yours, watching as the plush material falls down your figure. Leaning back, getting himself comfortable as he watches you expose yourself to him. 

‘ Now show me what you were doing to yourself before ’ 

You take a minute to take in his features, watching Finn’s eyebrows raise as his doe eyes scan down your body taking in everything that layed out in front of him. Like he's watching his favourite meal being dished on a platter begging to be eaten. 

You lean back on his lap, spreading yourself open to him. Spread your lips open to him. Letting him take in the view, you bring your fingers to your bundle of nerves lifting your fingers up to your mouth staring him dead in his eyes, sucking on them just like you were doing to his cock not even 5 minutes ago. 

bringing them back down to your wet core circling them around your clit, still making eye contact with him. Finn watches as your eyes roll to the back of your head watching you fingers play with yourself, biting his lip his eyes trail up to your breast watching them bounce as you shake in pleasure.

‘ Finn- ‘ 

That was enough to make him grab your wrist, making you stop everything you were doing. Grabbing your wrist, he pulls your wrist around to your back, pressing you down into the couch and exposing yourself to him even more. Ass high up in the air as your face is being pressed down into the couch cushions in your trailer. 

You feel him release his hands from your wrist and hear him reach around to something in his pocket. Before leaning over you. 

Beep 

This sadistic motherfucker is recording this. Holy shit. 

He pulls you by the hair once more, pointing your face directly at the phone that is currently recording every single inch of you. 

‘ C’mon baby smile for the camera, show everyone how pretty you' re gonna look when my cock is deep inside you’ 

Fuck, that was just enough for you to moan out loud. You look at the camera and then back at yourself, watching Finn’s frame shadow behind you as he leans down cupping your cheeks. 

‘Oh I can't wait to watch this back later.’  

Letting go of your cheeks with no warning he bottoms out inside you with a low groan, hitting your cervix leaving you a moaning mess. You feel every inch of him inside you. He stays there for a bit not moving, leaning back over you looking at how fucked out you look in the camera. 

This is going to be the death of me. Holy fuck. 

His hair is pressed against his forehead, messy and oh so fucking hot. Making eye contact with you. He bites your ear 

‘ No one's ever going to feel as good as me’ 

He whispers in your ear, barely audible to the camera. He pulls back, palming your ass as he pushes into you again, and then again fucking you relentlessly. Like he had been waiting his whole life to fuck you. 

He grabs you by the neck, his chest meeting your back as he lowers you down onto his lap. Spreading your pussy apart, with your legs open wide for the camera. looking at his cock deep inside you.

He starts fucking up into you with moan feeling a whole new side. He is even deeper than before. His long fingers reach down to your bundle of nerves rubbing, leaning over your shoulder, eyes still on the camera watching his cock fucking deep inside you. Your mouth wide open. Drool trailing down to your tits, bouncing as he bruises the inside of you. 

You are not going to be able to walk after this. How fuck are we gonna film the rest of our scenes today. 

You could honestly careless right now. Finn’s fingers start working over time on your clit as you feel your high coming. 

Finn stops. 

‘What the fuck!’ You whine 

‘Beg’ 

You gulp, still begging for movement. 

Fuck it. He is never gonna let this down. 

‘Please’ you whine ‘please I need to cum’ 

You feels his fingers start going back to work and his cock fucking your harder than before. A string of moans coming from both of you. 

‘Fuck thats it baby, cum for me’ He say between muffled moan as he has his mouth buried in your neck leaving bruises and little love bites. His eyes still glued to your pussy on display to his camera watching you come undone all over his cock. Liquid running down thighs, as he fucks you through your orgasm, feeling his cock twitch inside of you, feeling him paint your walls. 

He pulls out watching the cum drip from your entrance. 

‘ You look so dumb right now ’ 

You look up to see him staring at you through the camera as he plays with your pussy showing the camera how fucked out you look, you can barely feel anything let alone how you are still alive right now. You tilt your head back to look up at him, his eyes softer than before. 

He leans over, turning off the camera falling back down on the couch with you on top of him. He looks over at you 

‘Holy fuck, what kind of fucked up fantasy are we in right now’ 

You both laugh at his comment as he throws his phone across the room landing next to the discarded mask from before, engulfing you in a hug and placing a kiss on your forehead.

Before you both hear a knock at your door. 

‘We are on in five, both of you hurry up’ 

Oh Fuck. We left the window open.

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

please for the love of god let me know if you liked this. this was my first time writing in about 2 years so please go easy on me.

love yall <3

[lvrsturniolo]

trying to get back into writing, send reqs pls!!

🏷️: @courta13 @sturniolo-szn2 @ivysturnss @riasturns @slvt4chriss @iloveduckssm @sloanetherapper @auttysturnz @conspiracy-ash @harlieissigma @ribbonlovergirl

(some tags aren’t working so if u were on here before and you changed your user lmk so I can update it!!)

[sloanetherapper]

send reqs to my bsf!! she’s so talented 🫶🫶

[sloanetherapper]

may you write something like finn and y/n doing a tiktok couple trend? thank you :3

seeing if he melts into the kiss - f.w.

finn wolfhard x actress!reader

warnings: established relationship, pure fluff, public relationship, reader is an actress, not beta read bc my coworkers probably don’t want to read this,

wc: 937

You passed.

Y/N curled up on her couch, blanket draped over her legs. She scrolled on her phone, barely even consuming the content, her thumb simply moving on autopilot. She squeezed her eyes together for a moment, trying to ward off the strain from staring at a screen for so long. Just five more minutes, then I’ll get up, Y/N thought, immediately starting to doomscroll once more. A few more minutes of mindless scrolling went by before one video finally broke her out of the trance.

“seeing if he melts into the kiss”.

The girl had put her boyfriend's arms straight up before leaning in and kissing him. Y/N watched as the boy slowly relaxed, his arms instinctively wrapping around his girlfriend. The touch was gentle, loving. The entire video was so sweet that it made her teeth hurt.

 Y/N smiled. She needed to try it.

She pushed herself up from the couch quickly, rushing through her and Finn’s apartment towards his office. The sound of faint guitar strumming drifted down the hall as she got closer. Y/N knocked twice on the door before pushing it open. A smile spread from ear to ear on her face. 

Finn looked up from his curls, fingers still idly strumming the guitar. His eyebrows knitted together as he tried, and failed, to fight the smile tugging on his lips, “What are you grinning about?” He asked the question, followed by a breathy laugh. 

Y/N shut the door behind her, “Nothing!” She defended herself, her voice rising a few pitches. She set her phone up on his shelf, quickly going to record. “Now,” She grabbed the guitar from his hands, gently setting it down, “You need to stand for this, ‘kay?” Y/N held onto his hands, pulling him up from the chair. 

He tilted his head at Y/N as she pulled him to his feet, still fighting the smile on his face, “Are you sure it’s nothing?” Finn gestured blankly towards her phone, “Because that doesn’t look like nothing…” he shrugged, watching as she messed with the video settings. 

“Shhh, bear with me.” She waved her hand at him. Y/N set the 3-second timer and quickly backed up to stand by Finn. 

The video started filming. Y/N grabbed Finn’s wrists, pushing his arms so they sat straight above his head. 

“What are you do–” His question was quickly cut off by a kiss. 

Y/N rose herself onto her tiptoes to reach him, lips pressing softly against his. She waited, keeping their lips connected, for Finn’s reaction. 

Finn’s eyes widened at first, taken aback by her forwardness. After a second, his arms instinctively and slowly found their way around her. One hand placed at the small of her back, while the other cupped her cheek. It was like he couldn’t help himself. 

She smiled into the kiss, enjoying the moment for a few seconds longer than what the video called for. When they finally parted, she looked up at Finn, beaming. “You passed,” Y/N announced before skipping over to her phone. 

Finn’s face crumpled into confusion, the smile never leaving his face, “I… passed?” He repeated with a quiet laugh, following her.

“I had to see if you were going to melt into the kiss– and, well,” she replayed the video with her phone angled towards him. “You absolutely did, so you pass.”

He huffed softly, “That is,” he paused, shaking his head fondly as he watched himself give in to her, “the least scientific test I’ve ever taken.”

“And yet,” Y/N hummed, already editing the video, “you still passed.”  She shrugged, added a tiny caption, trimmed the clip, and hovered her thumb over the post button. “So, there’s some science behind it.”

Finn raised an eyebrow, “I’m not sure that’s how it works,” he brought Y/N into his embrace, placing a tender kiss on her forehead before resting his chin there, “but whatever you say.”

She smiled, hitting the post button before tossing her phone aside and melting into his touch. 

Finn’s arms tighten around her. He hummed, tracing small, absent-minded circles on her back. The outside world seemed to slow down for a moment. They sat together for a while, neither of them caring to look at the comments. 

About an hour, maybe two, later, Y/N picked up her phone again, curiosity winning her over. She shifted just enough to grab it, remaining in Finn’s embrace.

“Oh,” she snorted, “my god,”

Finn hummed, squinting his eyes as he read the comments. 

@/wlfhrdlvr: what being in love looks like btw

@/elseggos: am i interrupting something?

@/y/nsbiggestfan: someone cast them as leads in a romcom STAT

@/mik3_wheel3r: oh he’s in LOVEEEE

@/idkanymore_ : WHIPPED

@/number1romantic: men written by women are real bro im crying

His ears flushed a bright red almost immediately as he scrolled through the comments, “Okay,” he started, gently prying the phone from her hands, “they’re exaggerating.” Finn tried to defend himself. 

“Are they?” Y/N smiled back at him.

“Just a little,” Finn let out a breathy laugh, dropping his head onto her shoulder, “but it’s still slander.”

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes, “Slander? They’re just pointing out the obvious.” She shifted slightly so she could look at him better.

“Whatever.” Finn lifted his head, eyebrows furrowed in pretend annoyance. 

They both stared at each other for a beat. Finn leaned in before Y/N could say anything else. The kiss was everything the first one was and more. The same slow, loving moment shared between them– Without a camera this time. 

It proved the comments exactly right.

a/n: this one is a lil shorter, but i hope y’all enjoy!!

🏷️s: @lvrsturniolo @viperixsworld @linnea5342 @maksenn @anaghhh @danedehannie @iloveoldermen0204 @famoushoshi @mysticalmagicalbby @aesthetic-lyss @knowingnothingnoel @ameliaamy1 @madeline-quinn @toto31tu @iloveragdollcats @pleasingregulus @mayax2o07 @lucy-flow3rss @nuhsonbuh @maggiecc @foulbreadpaenut @fr4ncesca009 @lemon-lav @lisiliely @dopeysunflowers

[lvrsturniolo]

just popping in rq to say HE’S coming out pregnant

[sloanetherapper]

thinking abt u sitting in my car frothing over this cracks me up still

[samwxlsxon]

Dare I request shy aged up Mike x reader where she makes him touch himself in front of her while she watches….mayeb this is too political idk but I’ve BEEN thinking about this idea 😋

the exercise | college!mike wheeler x f!reader

summary: You offer to fix Mike’s inability to talk to women by having him participate in a lovely, very much not board certified, psychological exercise.

word count: 6.9k

warnings: mike-centric but still second person pov, cursing, discussions of sex, sub!mike (as the lord intended), dom!reader (not crazy dommy mommy but it makes sense you’ll see), unethical use of science??, m!masturbation, light oral, spitting, mike being a big fucking loser (what’s new), mean!reader (if u squint), vague discussions of anxiety, mike discovering he does in-fact like to be told what to do, fluff, no use of y/n

a/n: all characters engaging in sexual acts are 18+ SUB MIKE IS HERE SUB MIKE IS HERE, y’all idek what i did here but dis shit freaky. i didn’t really imagine him as a virgin in this one but he’s definitely inexperienced, the world is your oyster imagine him how you wish! i also don’t know shit about psychology & this is a work of fiction so don’t go looking for evidence bc all this shit is made up. sorry anon if this is not what you had in mind- it just took it and ran with it! thank you for your request & hope you enjoy!

this was not beta read, so please ignore any grammatical or structural typos

[banner credit @dividers-are-us]

masterlist

likes and reblogs make the world go round ♡

Mike Wheeler believed himself to be a very lucky man. As luck went, it seemed like he'd consistently received more than his fair share, yet somehow, there was always more to go around.

In his fruitful luck, Mike had miraculously aided in saving the world, defying all odds and somehow living to tell the tale. He'd also been able to snag a last minute seat in his freshman Introduction to Publishing class, where he'd luckily met the son of the most influential publisher in the North East, who was luckily very interested in Mike's authorship.

His most recent bout of luck had come the first week of winter break. He'd come back home to Hawkins, excited to see his friends and ready to catch up on lost time. His parents were on a trip to Florida for Holly's dance competition, luckily set to return a couple days after Mike had arrived, leaving Mike home alone.

The rest of the party wouldn't arrive in Hawkins until around the same time, but ever so luckily, you'd arrived first.

So in the spirit of luck, fate, and the Holy Powers That Be, Mike, desperate to finally have something to show for the three years he'd wasted pining timorously after you, cashed in the remainder of his luck and invited you to spend the night at his house, just like old times.

Luckily, you'd said yes.

But what Mike didn't realize, in his present luck-induced euphoria, was that his luck would eventually run out. There, in the dimly lit basement of his childhood home, surrounded by a pizza box, chip bags, and the light smell of underground mildew, with your pajama-clad body spread out peacefully on the opposite side of his couch.

There was a reason he'd allowed himself to pine after you for all these years- he couldn't get himself to talk to you without sounding like a complete idiot. He often couldn't believe the words that came out of his mouth, really, and so, he'd decided it was better to yearn in secret. Poor guy.

Mike was usually (keyword there) very outgoing. He'd been the leader of the party, the Dungeon Master, the one everyone depended on to call the shots. But when it came to you and your beautiful eyes, kind features, and bold personality, Mike found himself regressing.

He became shy around you, unsure, not wanting to trip over his words in fear of ruining any shot he had with you. He'd known you’d never hold that against him, but you were just so beautiful, so perfect, and you reverted him to a meek puddle of the man he could be whenever you were near. Pitiful really, but Mike never said he was unhappy.

So there, in his basement, with a mindless sitcom playing in the background, laugh track rudely interrupting Mike's precious brainstorm for conversation starters, Mike realized that his luck had finally run dry.

You both were so close, in an empty house with no responsibilities, but Mike couldn't think of a single appropriate thing to say in order to take the night in the direction he wanted it to go.

He'd thought his luck would grant him a couple of good pick-up lines, or maybe just enough confidence to slide up next to you, anything. So far, everything you both had spoken about had been completely, utterly, and entirely mundane.

It's not that Mike didn't care about how college had gone for you, nor you for him. On the contrary, he'd drunk up every word you'd said with genuine interest.

The issue lay with your sheer cotton long-sleeve and no bra, which had your nipples pebbling deliciously in the cool December night. Mike had noticed them immediately, and for the entirety of the night, his brain had been plagued by insufficiently effective ideas on how to address the problem at hand.

He wanted something more like his problem in your hand.

And he'd been absolutely losing his mind about it.

You’d been watching Mike for a while- not in a creepy way, just in that unmistakable you’re being observed and I know you know way.

He cleared his throat. Again.

“You keep doing that,” he said.

“Doing what?” you asked, innocently in the most fake way possible.

“That,” he said, gesturing vaguely at you. “The looking.”

You grinned. “I’m allowed to look at you. You’re my best friend.”

“That feels like a loophole.”

You shrugged. “I think unprompted looking is allowed in Clause C, Section 2 of our friendship code. ”

He laughed despite himself, then immediately realized that laughing was a mistake because now you’re smiling wider, eyes bright like you’d just unlocked a new achievement.

Mike shifted, the couch creaking traitorously.

You tilted your head. “You okay there, Wheeler?”

He groaned, dropping his face into his hands. “You are doing this on purpose.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you said, adjusting yourself so that you were laying facing him. "You're acting weird, and I'm going to keep staring at you until I figure out why." You squinted your eyes in his direction.

"I am not acting weird," he huffed, reaching for a slice of pizza. Maybe he could conceal his internal battles by shoving his face.

"You are so acting weird. I've known you forever. You're acting all skittish, like," you paused to make a motion with your hands, "like a mangy cat."

“You’re sho kin’,” he said, speaking through a mouth full of pizza.

You pursed your lips knowingly, shooting him a look that read more "I know all your secrets," rather than "I am a kind and loving friend! Trust me!".

"Mike, c'mon. Are you worried about school? I thought all your classes were going well?"

He shook his head as he chewed, "It's not school, I'm fi-"

"Is it girls?" You cut him off.

Mike began to choke on his pizza.

Your eyes lit up in delight. "Gotcha!"

You shimmied yourself over to him, offering two friendly pats to his back to help the choking subside.

Mike was very outgoing, yes, but his fatal flaw had always been that he wore his heart out on his sleeve. In your years of friendship, you'd learned to read him like a book. Mike wore his emotions on his face and through his actions. He would practically reek of feelings, his vibe shifting outwardly to match whichever sensation most plagued him.

"It's, n-no-, fuck, it's not that," he finally breathed out once his attack died down, placing the slice back in the box.

"Mike," you shot him another knowing look. "You can talk to me. Wouldn't it be nice, to y'know, talk about your girl troubles with a girl? I could have valuable insight!"

"Dude, no way you're a girl?" he joked, eyes wide in fake surprise. You slapped him in the arm, his laugh light.

"I'm serious, you ass!" You nudged him lightly with your leg, both of you sinking into the side of the basement couch. You weren't terribly close, but enough to touch each other without having to reach much.

Mike sighed, ultimately cornered under your watchful gaze.

“It’s nothing, really, I don’t know,” he shook his head in exasperation, “I just need to stop getting so, like, nervous all the time.”

You looked at him with understanding, warm eyes urging him to continue. “What do you mean by nervous?”

“Shit, like, I see a girl, okay right, she’s attractive,” he spoke animatedly, “and I know what I want to say, but then I speak and it all comes out wrong and I end up sounding like a fucking idiot and she looks at me weird and runs away!”

You hummed, nodding your head slowly. “Why do you think it’s hard for you to talk to them?”

Mike had finally caught on to what you were doing. “Are you doing your therapist shit on me right now?”

You glared at him. You were a third year psychology student at NYU, studying hard in hopes of one day earning a PhD. You’d done two years of dual enrollment at Hawkins Community College, so you were fast-tracked to enter your master’s program in a couple years. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but let your education seep into your friendships, seeking always to provide the tools to assist them with whatever it was that troubled them.

“Yes I am, now answer the question. It could help!”

He rolled his eyes at you, pulling a throw pillow onto his lap for comfort.

“I’ve never been confident when it comes to girls, you know this. Girls usually don’t like guys who aren’t athletic or don’t work out or whatever. I’m- I’m a freak to them most of the time, and it’s hard to get past that first impression. I guess I get scared that I’ll say the wrong thing before I even say anything, and then it goes downhill from there.”

“That’s not necessarily true, Mike. Lots of girls would be delighted to be with you,” you offered.

“Yeah, maybe. I just wish I could wake up one day, y’know, and be different. I wish I had the confidence to say what I needed to without sounding stupid.”

You thought for a second before an idea came to you. “What if you didn’t need to be different? There’s exercises you could do to bypass that, maybe. We just learned about some.”

He looked at you with wary eyes. “Exercises?”

Okay, maybe not necessarily exercises. More like experiments. You had a feeling, a hypothesis if you will, that if Mike paired his communication issues with a high-stress environment, his cognitive output would become distracted, ultimately overwhelming himself and releasing his ‘tongue-tie.’ Once he did that, he’d subconsciously realize that it was okay and normal to say whatever it was he needed to say, and boom, he’d be cured. Maybe. Possibly.

You nodded, “you gotta stay with me here okay. You’d need to simulate a high-stress environment, um, somewhere you’d feel like, uncomfortable or nervous. But it needs to make you feel substantially more nervous than talking to a girl would. It has to override that feeling, sorta.

“Then, I’d ask you questions that would simulate a conversation with a girl. Since you’d be focusing on two things at once, the goal would be that the greater stressor, situation one, would overpower the minor stressor, the communication issues, and you would basically distract you into forgetting about how you can’t talk to girls because you’ll be caught up in the major stressor. Does that make sense?”

Mike was confused as to the details, but understood the general principle. You were basically trying to distract the nervousness out of him, and it seemed plausible. He just didn’t know what kind of environment you both could simulate to get the desired outcome, but it was worth a shot.

“O-okay, sure, yeah.” He agreed, gripping the pillow a tad tighter.

Your face lit up with joy, excited to get your exercise on its way.

You cleared your throat as you settled in next to him, using your hands to put emphasis on your words, “so we would need to brainstorm, um, think of stuff that would stress you out. But be realistic. No skydiving or failing a math test or whatever.”

Mike nodded, gears churning in his brain.

“Well, for one, girls-“

“We can’t do that, the variables would be too similar. Next one.”

“Okay, uhhh, haunted houses?”

“Mike,” you warned, “you literally fought real-life monsters and you’re stressed by haunted houses?”

He shrugged, “fine, um, let me think.”

You both sat in silence for a while, TV still playing mindlessly in the background. Mike was deep in thought, committed to finding something that would work well for the exercise.

“Sex.” He finally spoke, eyes shifty and nervous, refusing to meet your gaze.

“Oo-kay,” you sing-songed, “sex. Right. Actually, it's a pretty normal choice, statistically speaking.”

“But, like, how do we, y'know, use that for the exercise.” He brought a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing oddly for comfort.

“Well,” you swallowed, wracking your brain for any uses you could think of. “I don’t think it would be fruitful to simulate sex itself, but maybe like, a part of it?”

“A part of it,” Mike repeated, heart starting to beat a bit faster.

“Yeah, a part of it. Sometimes most experiments and exercises don’t require a subject’s full exposure to the variable. Sometimes a partial exposure works just as well.”

“So what, you want me to have partial sex?” His voice squeaked.

“No, silly, just like, something sexual? I think it would distract you just like you need it to.”

Mike opened and closed his mouth a couple times, searching for the appropriate thing to say. He felt like a fish out of water.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to. It might be a bit strange. We can think of another way,” you offered, looking to avoid a Michael Wheeler panic attack.

He shook his head, much to your surprise. “No, no, I…I think you’re right. This could help. It’s just, wow, um, I could, maybe, touch myself? Would that work?”

“Yeah, yeah it could, but I don’t want to freak you out with anything, so really, we don’t have to.” You offered him a small smile, finally meeting his gaze. He looked unsure, and you hoped he wasn’t doing this to save face for your sake.

“I want to, yeah. Let’s do it.” Mike didn’t even know why he was agreeing to this. He was having a hard time grappling with the fact that he’d need to be naked and touching himself in front of you before he’d even confessed his feelings. It seemed like he was skipping a few steps there.

But this small part of him, a tiny minuscule part hidden under the nerves and anxiety, was grateful for the opportunity. If this exercise failed at getting him over his tongue-tie, he hoped it would change something between you. While you were being exceptionally clinical about it all, which he partially appreciated, deep down, he wanted you to feel some sort of way about this- about him doing this in front of you.

“Okay. Cool. I really think this will work. Just, get situated, and I’ll ask you questions. It’s gonna feel super uncomfortable at first, but just remember that it’s for the greater good. And you can stop at any time.”

He removed the pillow from his lap, awkwardly wiping his clammy hands on his thighs.

You scooted closer- just enough that your knee brushed his thigh. Deadly casual.

“You’re very cute when you’re flustered,” you told him.

He peeked at you through his fingers. “I’m literally just sitting here.”

“Mmhmm. And thinking very loudly.”

“I am not.”

“You are,” you said. “I can practically hear the gears churning in there,” you gestured to his head.

He exhaled, dropped his hand, and looked at you- really looked at you now. His cheeks were pink and his eyes a little too focused, like he’s deciding whether he’s brave enough to jump off a cliff.

“You’re enjoying this,” he said.

You hummed. “Maybe.”

There’s a beat. Then another.

He shifted again, slower this time, like he’s finally given up pretending nothing’s happening.

“You’re not gonna make fun of me,” he said.

You softened just a touch. “No.”

“Not even a little?”

“Okay, maybe a little,” you admitted with a smile. “But only affectionately,” you said with a wink.

He laughed, breathy, shaking his head. “God, you’re impossible.”

“And yet,” you said, leaning in just enough to lower your voice, “you haven’t told me to stop.”

That does it.

He swallowed. His eyes flicked down, then back up to your face, like he’d been checking the exit signs one last time before deciding to stay seated.

“…You’re not gonna look away?” he asks.

“Nope.”

He let out a long breath, a half-laugh. “You’re evil.”

“Correct.”

Another pause. This one was heavier, but still playful, buzzing with the type of tension that felt slightly ridiculous and extremely charged.

He finally nodded, just once. “Okay. But if I die from embarrassment, that’s on you.”

“I’ll put it on your headstone,” you say. “Died doing his best.”

That earned you a snort, which somehow made the moment better instead of ruining it.

He settled back against the couch, shoulders loosening as he realized- oh. It wasn’t scary. It was just… vulnerable. And you were right there, watching him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your chin propped in your hand, eyes warm and unmistakably interested. You were curled up next to him, your warm legs burning a hole into the side of his thigh.

His hands started towards his zipper, but hesitated slightly once they reached the button.

“Wow,” you said after a moment, thoughtful. “You really do overthink everything.”

He groaned. “Please don’t narrate.”

“Fine,” you said. “But just so you know-”

He sent you a hard glance.

You smile, slow and unapologetic. “You’re doing great.”

He returned his gaze down towards his cock, now slightly inflated in his pants. He was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that maybe he did like this, you watching him. It felt dirty, taboo even, and definitely unlike anything he’d ever thought about while touching himself.

Well, you were always there, of course, in every dirty fantasy of his. But when he touched himself at night, he more so imagined being the one taking on the leadership role, caring for you- guiding you. Instead, Mike was discovering how much he liked when you led him.

Mike bit his lip, refusing to meet your eyes, focused instead on his growing erection that seemed to spur itself on the more he thought of you watching him. Tentatively, his hand came to rest directly atop his erection, pushing down slightly with a soft roll of his hips.

He looked good enough to fucking eat. His pale skin was slightly flushed, and his hips were rolling in on themselves softly, but still desperate enough that you could tell he was holding himself back. You loved Mike like this, completely nervous and raw. You loved knowing that you made him like this, and that he would kiss the ground you walked on if you’d let him.

“How’s that?” You asked softly, eyes trained on the way he groped himself.

“N-not bad, yeah,” he responded breathily, voice cracking a bit.

You practically melted at the vulnerability in his voice. If you were a better woman, you’d let him be. You’d let him forget all about the deal you made earlier and just let him enjoy the moment. You wished you were better, really, but you had waited a long time to see Mike like this, and you were going to milk it for all it was worth.

“Do you like it,” you paused, “when I watch you?”

It was an innocent enough question. Nothing outwardly dirty or provocative- a basic understanding of what was happening would be enough to answer. Mike, however, who would become red in the face if you accidentally touched his hand, almost choked on the spit in the back of his throat as blood rushed to his cock.

Unable to trust his voice around you, he chose to nod quickly, hand gripping harder around his full erection. He had practically forgotten the second part of this exercise, arguably the most important part. He couldn’t think of what to say to you even if he’d wanted to, focused deeply on how he’d let you do absolutely anything you wanted to him at any point, forever.

You tsked in disapproval. “C’mon now Mike, we agreed on words.” You dragged your blunt nails over his knees for emphasis, reminding him of his purpose.

Shame shot through Mike at your touch, feeling his cock jerking in his hand. He was filled with this overwhelming sense to please you, to be good for you. He wanted to show you that he was capable of stringing together two fucking words in front of a hot girl. Most importantly, he wanted you to be proud of him for doing it.

Your touch lingered on his knee, fingers now rubbing soft, small circles overtop his jeans, slowly acclimating Mike to your touch.

“I- I do, I like every-, everything y’do,” Mike spilled out, chest starting to heave a little from exertion.

What in the everloving fuck was that. If he had half a mind right now, he would slap himself in the face and leave his own damn house. Not only did Mike basically admit to having a crush on you, but he didn’t even care. He was in this odd sort of headspace, aiming only to please, and somehow, he felt like the best way to achieve that was indeed to sound like a submissive virgin while he touched himself in front of you.

Luckily for Mike, his admission had your legs squeezing together like they were connected by magnets, pussy fluttering at his honesty. It was becoming quite hard to keep yourself together for him.

Instead, you returned to your role, your voice dripping honey. “Aw, that’s sweet, Mike, really. I think you deserve something special for how sweet you’re being, what do you think?”

He nodded lightly, hips coming to a stop in preparation for your next instructions. “Yeah, y-yeah, whatever you want.”

“Look at me,” you demanded, having adjusted yourself slightly so that your covered nipples were unobscured by your arms. Immediately, his eyes locked on yours. He was so easy for you, questioning nothing. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Take your cock out, Mikey,” you hummed lightly, following with a small giggle, “I wanna watch you for real.”

His mouth dropped open slightly at your request, eyes not breaking contact with yours. Nervously and with much incoordination, Mike managed to pull his zipper down, slip his pants off, and place his hand back on his cock while only breaking eye contact thrice. Small wins.

Once he realized what he did, his face flushed even redder, so incredibly nervous to be sitting like this before you. He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched you watching his cock, waiting for you to say something before he started again. The longer you stared, the more freaked out he became. Was he too much of a nervous wreck? Were you having second thoughts? Did you not want to do this with him?

One by one, evil thoughts began to plague his brain, and in true Mike Wheeler fashion, they began to show all over his face.

You were mesmerized by him, tall and proud, leaking small pearlescent beads of precum from the top of his red, leaky tip. It was so long, long enough to reach the back of your throat with more to spare, delicious and lengthy. It looked so soft, almost velvet to the touch, with one long vein running down the bottom of the shaft, begging for you to run your tongue along it.

You licked your lips hypnotically, caught in your own fantasies of Mike and blissfully unaware of the emotional wreck he was becoming beside you.

A small, frustrated groan pulled you from your reverie, a tiny pout marring your face in disappointment. Your features softened substantially once you realized the look on Mike’s face, once again so nervous that he seemed ready to bolt from the couch. You warmed slightly at his demeanor, finding his anxiety rather charming.

“What’s wrong?” you hummed, knowing rather well what he could be feeling.

Mike’s hand was no longer on his cock, instead balled into a fist at his sides. His nerves did nothing to discourage his length, however, which thrived in the novelty of the situation. Mike still didn’t know what to think. He knew he was highstrung, closer to a full blown crashout than he’d probably ever been, but not because he didn’t want to be here. He wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Simply, Mike was having a hard time adjusting to his role, not fully understanding that his shy, nervous attitude could act as an attractant instead of a repellent.

“What are you thinking?” He asked in response, desperate for your opinion to soothe his perpetual worries.

You thought about it for a second, choosing your words carefully. Mike’s heart was pounding in his chest the longer you took, preparing himself for a vicious rejection.

“I think,” you started, slowly rising from the couch, “that you look too good to not get a better view.” Slyly, you slipped onto the floor, in between his spread legs, now face to face with his angry cock, bringing your head to rest lightly on his knee. You could see his face perfectly, full of emotion and surprise. An absolutely perfect seat.

Mike was about to throw up. He felt like he was in a dream. Like he’d just taken a ride on the longest rollercoaster in America. Like he’d gone to Blockbuster and snagged the last copy of The Lost Boys with a box of M&M’s. He was absolutely out of his element, with you watching him expectantly between his legs. He silently blessed whoever had been looking out for him, and he’d come to the conclusion that he fully, totally, and wholly lucked out.

“How do you feel?” You spoke softly from the floor.

“Good, y-yeah, real good.” He spoke, just a bit rushed.

“Tell me more. You agreed, remember? Talk to me,” you added lightly, wrapping your hand around the back of his ankle lovingly, rubbing the cotton material of his crew sock lightly with your thumb.

He swallowed and looked up at the ceiling before settling in back on you.

“Well, fuck, ummmm, y’know, good’nstuff,” he mumbled, red in the face.

You huffed out a laugh, “good and stuff? Sweetheart, this is supposed to help you communicate in high stress situations. You do have to help yourself, though.”

He scoffed, as if it wasn’t a completely reasonable expectation to be nervous in a situation like this.

“It’s a bit hard to judge when you’re not the one naked and hard,” he said matter-of-factly, your name rolling off his tongue at the end.

“Would it help?” You countered. “If I took my shirt off?”

Mike may have been a loser, but he wasn’t an idiot. That would fucking rule.

But he had to play it cool. This was an exercise, after all.

“Only if you want to. I think I’ll be okay.”

You didn’t like that answer. You wanted feelings, real thoughts. Not what he thought you’d want to hear.

“No,” you shook your head, “Tell me straight. Do you want my shirt off?” Your eyes bore into his, tempting him to lie again.

He knew the act was up. Again, he was filled with that overwhelming urge to please you, to open up the deepest parts of himself and lay them out for you on a silver platter.

“Please,” he whispered, eyes closed for a brief moment, “take it off. I- I want to see you.”

Pressing a kiss to his knee, you voiced him a quick praise, lifting your shirt up from the hem, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Mike sucked in a breath, his shaky hand subconsciously returning to his cock. You looked so good, carefree and calm, like you weren’t rocking his world with one simple action.

You leaned back against the coffee table, chest in full display before him. While it was supposed to ease his nerves, the sight of your bare torso made him a bit dizzier, in actuality.

“Better?”

“Yes, yeah, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you smiled at him lightly. Now that he was settled, you urged him to continue.

“You can, y’know, start, if you want.”

He nodded in understanding, remembering again what was supposed to be happening. He watched you watch him, confidently sitting back between his legs, gorgeous tits taking up his field of vision. Soon, the throb in his cock got to be too much, and he began to alleviate himself with slow, shaky strokes.

He huffed a breath through his nose at the sensation, brows furrowed ever so slightly. He liked this, a lot more than he wanted to admit, and you hadn’t even begun asking him questions. It was different from his expectations for sex. He’d always believed that sex had to be this thing, an act that required set-up and commitment to follow through. But this was so casual, so free, and Mike was excited to be a part of it.

You squirmed a bit as you watched him touch himself, huffing out little gasps of pleasure, bottom lip catching between his teeth. You were so entranced by his movements, you forgot that you were supposed to be asking him questions. Unfortunately, you’d have to push your feelings to the side for a moment. For, uh, science.

“I’m gonna ask you stuff now, okay? The questions are supposed to elicit a, um, reaction. But try your best to answer truthfully and coherently. I’ll start off easy.”

You tried your best to not sound clinical, but there was no way to explain the parameters of the exercise without seeming like you’d need a labcoat and a legal pad.

He nodded in understanding, his hand still moving slowly.

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You started. That was easy enough. He’d basically admitted his crush on you earlier, so you didn’t believe it to be too egregious of a start.

The pleasure in Mike’s groin was starting to build, if ever so slightly, meaning he was growing exponentially more disheveled as the time passed. He knew that his answers would lose coherence accordingly.

“Y-yeah, so pretty. Prettiest-ngh, girl I’ve ever seen.” He broke eye contact halfway through, choosing to sacrifice his gaze for comprehension. He didn’t think he’d be able to fully comply just yet.

You were tempted to praise him again, but you wanted this to feel as normal of a conversation as possible. “I think you’re pretty, too. Painfully handsome, actually.”

“Oh fuck, really?” His hand stuttered a bit as he registered what you said, ultimately gripping himself a little harder once he realized your comment.

“Yeah, I do. So, so handsome. I think about you sometimes. Do you think of me?”

He threw his head back at your admission, his hand moving a bit quicker, small drops of precum leaking out of his tip, spread slickly by his thumb.

“What the fuck,” he groaned out your name, his brain completely unprepared to deal with this. He was actually going to die. You thought of him? He hoped it was like this, dirty thoughts. Thoughts that matched his of you in the middle of the night.

Giggling, your hand grazed his knee in gentle reassurance, urging him to continue.

“Y-yes, all the-shit, all the time.” His hips started rolling softly again.

“What do you think about?”

You were unsure if you even wanted to know the answer. Mike was pent up, sure, but at least he got to put his hands on his cock to alleviate some of the surely building pressure. You were stuck squeezing your legs together in response to what was possibly the sexiest thing you’d ever see in your entire life, unsatisfied and forced to stay calm. You had to keep reminding yourself that you were doing this for him, not for you.

Mike used the little resolve he had left to wracked his brain for an appropriate answer, but ultimately came up short. He decided to just put his faith in the exercise, trusting himself to say the right things. In reality, he could only focus on two things at once, choosing those to be his cock and your tits.

“I think about you, ohgod, how fuckin’ p-perfect you are. So smart, funny, fuck-brave” he got cut off with a light groan, “think about us, sometimes, too. Alone.”

You leaned away from the coffee table, arranging your position so that you were seated on your knees. “And what do you think about, when you’re alone?” A kiss on his knee again.

“Fuck, I don’t k- stuff like this?” He was crumbling ever so slowly, his hand moving faster against himself.

“What’s ‘stuff like this’?” You hummed against his knee, trying to pry it out of him.

A pained groan left his mouth, “sexual s-shit, like this. I think about it with you.”

“Good job, that wasn’t that hard, hm? Do you think you’d like doing it with me?”

He nodded immediately, “Fuck yes, always yes, wan-wanted you…so fucking long,” his breath hitched at the end, almost whimpering. You had no idea what you were doing to him, so fucking innocently, like you were unaware of how hard he was trying to keep it together. Something about you, treating him like you almost didn’t care, was so unbelievably attractive. It surprised him that he’d even lasted this long.

“I’ve wanted you too, Mike. I want to do things with you, nasty fucking things,” you kissed both his thighs between words, “can I show you something?”

He expressed his agreement in a rather aggressive jerk of his head. You leaned closer to him, face mere inches away from his throbbing, red, beautiful cock, and took his wrist in your hand. His hand was dry, and you knew despite the desperation, it could always feel better. Without warning, you brought your lips to brush the head of his cock, so delicately. You parted your lips, and a fat, warm, dollop of spit landed right on the side of his cock, trailing slowly down towards the base.

Mike thought he was dead. Rest in fucking peace.

He was destroyed. Demolished. Annihilated. Obliterated. Mike had been fucked for every other girl for the rest of his life, because he would only ever be able to think of this moment. He’d think of it until he was blue in the balls. He’d think of it until he memorized every single detail.

Once you pulled away, a small string of spit connecting your lips to his cock, you noticed his chest heaving, eyes locked in on yours with his jaw slack. Beautiful and utterly fucked.

“Go on,” you prompted, back to your position on your knees, resting your ass on your heels.

“Holy fu-uck,” he spread your spit over himself, pumping with little resistance. He gripped his hand tighter around himself, desperate to come.

“Tell me what you think of,” you asked, head returning to his knee. You were so wet. You could feel your juices seeping through the cotton of your pajama pants, the wet spot growing to cover the tops of your inner thighs.

He couldn’t hold back anymore. He’d tell you everything. Every dark fantasy, every secret thought, he didn’t care. He’d let the words flow, his need overcoming his nerves and shyness, both of those carelessly thrown halfway out the window.

“I think about your mouth, fuck, so warm…and w-wet,” it sounded more like a question, but he was too fucked to care, “wanna fuck you, y-yeah, all the fu-fucking time. Wanna make you feel so good, shit-like this. Let you- whatever you want, anything.”

You closed your eyes and let out a shallow breath as he continued. “Think about your tits, holy fuck, and wonder if you’d let me…let me come on them, sometimes. ”

He was so close, it wouldn’t take long at all. His brain was swarming with thoughts of you. You knew that it was probably the best time to keep asking him questions- he’d be raw and unfiltered, exactly what you think he’d need to get over his tongue-tied affliction. However, the room was about ten degrees hotter, and you were also beginning to lose your ability to think clearly.

“Y’gonna come, Mike?” You asked softly.

He nodded, hand working diligently to get him over the edge. All you could hear was the slick sound of his pumps harmonized with his heavy breaths.

“Can I help you?” You tried to stay strong, you really did, but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Fucking shit, please,” he grunted out, knowing he wouldn’t need much.

You were at the point of ferality, and sure, you could’ve moved his hand and pumped him the rest of the way, or maybe suckled on his tip so that he came into your inviting mouth. But no. You wanted him to feel things, things he’d probably never felt. So you dipped your head, your warm, wet mouth coming to suckle softly on the center of his balls. They were heavy on your tongue, but the moan Mike let out was enough to make you hum with content.

He grabbed onto the back of your head by instinct, keeping you right where he wanted you. Before the back of his head even hit the couch, he was coming. His legs trembled while you sucked, running your tongue around the loose skin and savoring his salty taste.

He moaned your name loudly, pumping roped of cum onto his torso. He felt shattered, almost like he couldn’t remember where he was off the comedown. He was buzzing down to his toes, his whole body in a floaty state of euphoria.

You pulled off him with a pop, glassy eyes watching as Mike covered his face with his hands and took several deep breaths, cum splayed over his clothed stomach.

After giving him some time to recharge, you spoke, weary voice splitting the silence.

“Try now,” you said.

“Hmmph?” He mumbled quizzically from beneath his hands, chest taking slow, deep breaths.

“I want to see if the exercise worked. Tell me something that would’ve made you nervous before.”

He removed his hands from his face and shot you a deadpanned look. “You couldn’t wait, I don’t know, until I wiped the cum off my shirt?”

You scrunched your nose, “No actually, Mike, I am a woman of science. I must know now. And also change your fucking shirt. Don’t just wipe.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting the shirt off his head, momentarily stark naked. He gathered up all his clothes, piling them in his hands while you put on your shirt.

“What would be considered a success? Based on the exercise,” he asked, walking up the basement stairs to dispose of his clothes in the hamper and put on pajamas.

“I don’t know,” you called, settling back down on the couch, “something you wouldn’t normally say without getting flustered. To a girl!”

Mike went up to his room pensively, thinking about what you’d said. As he shuffled through his drawers for a t-shirt and sweatpants, he realized that he didn’t physically feel any different than he did before you worked your psychological voodoo on him. Mentally, however, he felt like things between the both of you had shifted. The confessions from just a view minutes before were not lost to him, and he wondered if knowing that you felt the same about him made the idea of talking to you about his deepest thoughts easier to digest.

He’d made up his mind by the time he met you back in the basement. Running a hand through his tussled hair, he plopped down next to you and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

You looked at him expectantly, patiently awaiting the results of your experiment. In all fairness, it was self-serving. Lucas had told you months ago how Mike felt about you, and you’d truthfully run out of patience with him to make a move. Luckily for Mike, you’d just finished a Sexual Psychology class at NYU, and you were more than happy to kickstart the beginning of your relationship for him.

Much to your satisfaction, Mike turned to face you, hand coming to cup your cheek. His eyes met yours and found acceptance, tenderness, and a hint of something else. Adoration, perhaps? He wasn’t sure. But he knew he’d wasted too much time with you already.

“I like you. A lot. I,” he sighed, “I wasn’t kidding…before. I have for a long time,” he ran his thumb delicately across your cheek. “And, I think about you, all the fucking time. I want to be with you, and fuck, that was so hot- you’re so hot. And truthfully, I think I like when you tell me what to do.”

You smiled into his palm at his confession. “I know.”

Now that caught him off guard. You could see the emotions flickering through his features, ultimately landing on confusion.

“Lucas told me in June, before we left,” another sheepish smile.

He took a minute to process the information, before letting out a shocked laugh.

“For the record though, Mike, I wasn’t lying either, earlier. I like you too. Lots. I wouldn’t mind thinking of you more.”

He dropped his head to your shoulder with a groan, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Then why didn’t you say anything? You knew I’d never be able to.”

You ran your hands through the back of his hair, inhaling the scent of his shampoo. Was that fucking Fabergé Organics? Whatever, you’d bug him another time for that.

“Actually, the exercise worked exceptionally well, I think. From your confession, and lack of intense stuttering, I can deduce that you’ve overcome your fear of talking to pretty girls.”

He pulled away, locking eyes with you, “you’re a genius, Doctor,” he joked, leaning in slightly to the point where your foreheads were touching.

You reciprocated, tangling your hands in his hair, brushing your lips with his, and whispered with a laugh, “I think gonna win a fucking Nobel prize.”

thank you all for your support! lmk what you think <3 muah!