strawberry kisses—🍓⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
you buy strawberry lipgloss for.. science! (the science is kissing mikey..obvi)
contents: x reader, aged up mike wheeler, fluff, reader is obsessed with mikes lips😝, reader has a claiming/marking fetish, established relationship, reader is a freak lil nerd(me), whiny dom mike, both idiots are down bad, mike wheeler restraint k!nk (kinda if you squint), but sfw!, mildly suggestive, not proofread
you notice his mouth before you notice anything else.
not on purpose. you swear it isn’t intentional. it just happens. it always happens.
like when he’s mid rant about something ridiculous, dnd strategy, a movie inconsistency, the way people underestimate him, and his hands are flying everywhere, brows pulled tight, voice climbing higher the more worked up he gets. you nod like you’re following along. you even throw in a quiet “yeah” at the right moments.
but really you’re staring at the way his bottom lip catches between his teeth when he’s thinking. the way he presses them together when he’s trying not to get too emotional.
or when he laughs. when he really laughs. head tipping back, throat exposed, lips parted wide and pink and unfairly soft looking. you feel it low in your stomach first. that drop. that heat. and then the guilt comes right after.
because he’s your boyfriend now.
and somehow that makes it worse.
it was easier when you were just crushing on him. easier when you could swallow the feeling and tuck it somewhere private, somewhere safe. now you’re allowed to kiss him. allowed to touch him. allowed to want.
and you want in a way that makes your pulse jump when he leans close to whisper something in your ear. you want in a way that makes you dizzy when his mouth brushes yours, soft and tentative, like he’s still not sure he’s allowed to take up that much space with you.
he always kisses like that at first.
but… you’re starting to crave the moment he stops asking.
you buy the strawberry lip gloss on a tuesday.
it feels impulsive. reckless, even. you stand in the checkout line staring at the tiny tube in your palm, heart pounding like someone might tap your shoulder and accuse you of something.
because you didn’t buy it for you.
you bought it because you want to see it on him.
you want to kiss him hard enough that it transfers. want to pull back and see the shine on his mouth and know you did that. that he’s marked by you in some small, stupid, sweet way.
the thought alone makes your knees feel weak. it’s embarrassing how much it does.
he’s in your room later that week, sitting on the edge of your bed, elbows on his knees, talking about how his mom keeps rearranging the basement.
“she moved my stuff again,” he says, pushing his hair out of his face. “like, i had a system. it made sense! and now it’s just chaos! total chaos!”
you hum softly from your vanity. you’ve already applied the gloss once. wiped it off. reapplied it. you’re overthinking it. you know you are. his whiny voice makes you all nervous, though you can’t help the small thrill you get from his frustration.
your reflection shows your lips glossy and flushed. you press them together, testing the shine. they look different. fuller. wet.
“you’re.. not listening,” mike says.
not annoyed. just observant. like he wants to know what else could have your attention besides him at this very crucial moment.
you meet his eyes in the mirror. “i am,” you insist, and it comes out thinner than you meant it to.
his gaze drops.
not to your eyes.
to your mouth.
he goes quiet.
“what,” he says slowly, standing, crossing the room without breaking eye contact. “is that.”
your heart jumps into your throat. “what’s what?”
he stops right in front of you. close enough that your knees brush his jeans. you feel that everywhere.
“don’t play dumb,” he murmurs. his voice has changed. softer. lower. careful in a different way. “you’ve been staring at me all night. and now you’re… shiny.”
your cheeks burn. “it’s just lip gloss.”
“yeah?” he tilts his head slightly. studying you. “what flavor.”
you swallow. “strawberry.”
a second passes.
“strawberry,” he repeats, quieter this time.
his thumb comes up before you can prepare yourself. brushes lightly over your bottom lip. barely any pressure at all.
you inhale sharply.
“you’re shaking,” he says.
“no, i’m not.”
his mouth twitches. he doesn’t look convinced. “you are.”
his thumb drags slightly, collecting the gloss. he looks at it on his skin like he’s trying to understand what you’ve done.
“did you put this on for me?” he asks.
you could lie. you probably should. it would be easier to laugh it off. but your heart is beating so loud it feels ridiculous to pretend.
“…maybe.”
his eyes lift slowly. carefully.
that flicker again. the check in. mike never pushes. never assumes. he waits.
“maybe,” he echoes. “or yes.”
you hate how exposed you feel. hate how easily he reads you.
“yes,” you whisper.
something in him shifts.
his jaw tightens just slightly. full of restraint.
“you bought strawberry lip gloss,” he says, voice rough at the edges now, “so you could kiss me.”
not a question.
you nod. he exhales, dragging a hand through his curls like he’s annoyed, but the pink blush climbing from his neck to his cheeks betrays him.
“you… you have no idea what that does to me,” he blurts, too fast, like he’s trying to outrun the words. then he huffs out a short, nervous laugh. “i mean. i just. you can’t just do that and then look at me like that.”
your breath catches. “what does it do?”
his eyes drop to your mouth again. and lingers. “makes it really hard to be a good boyfriend.”
he swallows hard. his ears are red now.
your pulse spikes.
“who said you have to be good?” you don’t even think before you say it. it just slips out.
the silence after is thick.
his eyes snap back to yours, darker now. searching. like he’s trying to figure out if you understand the weight of that.
“don’t say things you don’t mean,” he says softly.
you slide off the chair so you’re standing flush against him. you can feel the warmth of him through your clothes. the steady rise and fall of his chest. he smells like laundry detergent and something warm and familiar.
“i mean it, mikey” you breathe.
he looks at you for a long second. really looks at you.
then his hand settles on your waist. not tentative this time. firm. grounding. like he’s made up his mind.
“o-okay,” he says.
and then he kisses you.
his mouth presses to yours with intention, and you gasp into it. your fingers clutch at his shirt and tug it crooked at the collar. he makes a startled sound against your mouth, half surprised, half something else, but he doesn’t pull away. he just adjusts and kisses you harder.
the gloss makes everything slick and sweet. his lips slide against yours, warm and insistent. you taste sweet strawberries and him underneath it. he tastes like mint and the faint sweetness of soda.
his hand tightens at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left, until your bodies fit together in a way that makes your head spin.
you make a small sound without meaning to.
he answers it.
his other hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as he tilts his head and deepens the kiss. slower for a second. then deeper. hungrier. like he’s trying to memorize how your lips taste.
you wanted to see the gloss on him.
you didn’t expect him to kiss you like he’s been starving for it.
when he pulls back, it’s only because you both need air. foreheads pressed together. lips still brushing every time one of you breathes.
you open your eyes.
and there it is.
pink and glossy, smeared across his mouth.
your doing. your mark.
you reach up without thinking, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. the shine catches the light. he doesn’t move away.
“you’ve got strawberry,” you murmur.
his mouth curves under your touch.
“yeah?” his voice is low, wrecked in a way that makes your stomach flip. “you gonna fix it?”
you swallow. and for a split second, sharp and ugly, you think that if he ever looked at someone else like this it might actually ruin you.
instead of answering, you lean in and kiss him again.
slower this time. deliberate. tasting the sweetness you left behind, feeling the way he melts for half a second and then surges forward again, hands sliding from your waist to your hips like he’s mapping you.
when you finally break apart, both of you flushed and breathing hard, the gloss is completely ruined. smeared across both your mouths.
mike lets out a shaky laugh and rests his forehead against yours.
“you’re dangerous,” he says quietly.
you smile, still shy even now. “it’s just lip gloss.”
he shakes his head, brushing his nose against yours.
“no,” he murmurs. “it’s you.”
then he kisses you again before you can hide how much that does to you.
and this time he doesn’t taste like strawberries.
he tastes like something you’re going to crave long after the gloss is gone.
