#sub mike wheeler

[bravo-yankee-lima-echo-romeo]

you’re telling me that this homotron 700 is a top????

with his big ass puppy dog eyes???

that boy would give his heart and soul to make will happy and god knows the minute will gives him these eyes

mike is fucked (metaphorically and physically)

[chameleonsd1sh]

thinking about will intentionally nudging mike into subspace… like the party’s hanging out in mike’s basement and will starts small, telling mike to do things for him, like go fetch a drink, go get a sweater, sit on the ground by his knee, etc. little things all evening.

at first will just says stuff like thanks, mike’s too good to him, making him preen and try to hide a grin, but gradually he’s lowering his voice with it, eventually just whispering praise in his ear, saying he’s so perfect, he listens so well, such a good boy, so good for him…

mike’s getting quiet, disoriented, struggling to keep his wits around the party (they notice, obviously, and tease him for losing his train of thought or jumping at whatever will asks, but caring’s hard as his brain mellows and he can’t find words and just wants to be good)

all night will’s been adding soft touches, a possessive hand around the back of the neck, hair ruffles, and eventually he gives his hair a sharp tug and mike’s goneeee, eyes glazed, leaning against will’s leg on the floor all floaty and hazy, barely supporting his own weight…

when max teases that he hasn’t said a word in over an hour, mike doesn’t respond, just keeps gazing up at will, who’s gently petting his hair and smiling at how relaxed and willing to please he is. will didn’t even have an ulterior motive, honestly. he just likes him like this :]

[vanillaberrimade]

Mean Something ❦

Mike Wheeler x AFAB!Reader

[Mike Wheeler, who makes a pact with you to lose your virginities to each other before college, that plan crumbles, at first…]

CW: NSFW!! friends to lovers, mostly fluff, eventual smut, kissing, swearing, yearning, slow-burn, p in v, everyone is 18+

Music ~ My moon my man, Feist

The music from prom still echoed faintly in your ears as the hotel room door clicked shut behind you. Mike stood a few steps ahead, hands shoved into his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them. His suit jacket was already off, sleeves slightly wrinkled, tie loosened just enough to show he’d been tugging at it all night.

“Okay,” he said, too quickly. “So. Um...” Silence. You nodded, even though there was nothing to nod to. This had seemed like a good idea before. A plan. Take each other’s virginities so you didn’t go to college inexperienced, people do it all the time.

Mike cleared his throat, glancing at you, then away, then back again like he was trying to build up the courage to look for longer than half a second.

“I mean- we don’t have to rush,” he added, words tripping over each other. “Or- uh- actually, I don’t know, maybe we should because otherwise it gets weird, right? Not weird, just- more weird than it already is-”

He stopped himself, pressing his lips together. Mike took a step closer. Then another. Careful, like he was approaching something fragile.

“I just-” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself. “We said we’d do this. And it makes sense, right? Like- before college and everything. It’s just… practical.”

He looked at you again, longer this time. “And I- I think you’re really pretty. Or- sorry is that lame? You’re beautiful. I mean, I’ve always thought that. Not just because of this. That’s not-”

You cut him off with a kiss, gentle at first, hesitant. It wasn’t exactly every day or… any day that you were doing anything like this with your best friend.

He wanted this, but he also came with his own set of anxieties. His hands struggled to find where to sit, they trembled a little as they settled on your waist. He didn’t know when to lean in and kiss you back, and as he took the leap, he was clumsy at first.

And then he was distracted as your tongue swiped his lip. Then embarrassed as he moaned into your mouth at the sensation. Then- wow, okay. Your tongue clearly took that as an opportunity to find his.

And then he couldn’t wait anymore, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and fighting with his tie. His lips trying their best not to leave yours as undressed his top half. That felt safe.

As the back of your knees met the edge of the bed, your lips moved to trail down his neck, leaving faint marks of the tinted gloss he’d practically eaten off. He practically gawked as you stepped back, arms reaching to slide off your dress, leaving you in the pretty underwear you’d worn in preparation.

“You look… wow- uh. Shit. That sounded lame. You’re perfect, really perfect.“

That made your heart flutter, anxieties were natural, but feelings were complicated, and were explicitly not in the contract. He was nervous, sure, but he was perfect too, and that was the problem.

Mike seemed to notice the shift in you. Notice the way your lips didn’t just press to a line, you looked almost sad. His shoulders tensed slightly “Wait,” he said, softer now. “Okay, hold on.”

He started pacing a little, then stopped abruptly like he remembered you were still there. “The list,” he said suddenly, almost hopeful. “Remember? The reasons?”

Before you could respond, he sat on the bed next to you, flushing as he pulled a pillow to his lap to cover… things. And began reading, “Okay- we trust each other. No pressure after, no expectations. Uh- it’s better than it being random with someone else. We-”

He faltered when he saw your expression, his brows furrowing in that way they do when he feels guilty. The room went quiet again. This time, heavier. “No, that’s- yeah. Okay.”

You looked down, fingers twisting together slightly, “I’m sorry Mike I just… I can’t. I need this to mean something, you know?” you admitted quietly.

Mike didn’t respond right away. And for a second, you worried you’d messed everything up. But then- “It’s okay.”

You looked up.

He nodded once, his hand hesitantly finding yours. “I- I get it, more than you know-” he repeated, softer. “That’s… it’s okay.”

There was no disappointment in his voice, he almost sounded more comfortable. He hesitated, “Do you still want to, uh- stay? We don’t have to make it weird.”

A small smile tugged at your lips this time “Yeah,” you said. A few minutes later, his arm was around you as you sat in his shirt, soft noise coming from the TV. Another silence. But different.

Mike shifted slightly, then awkwardly pulled the blanket up a bit higher like he didn’t know what the ‘normal’ version of this situation was supposed to look like. After a moment, he spoke again, quieter now “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I don’t think it should just be… a box to check off or something.”

You turned your head slightly toward him. He didn’t look back, just kept staring up. “I mean, I get why we said that. But…” He shrugged faintly. “I don’t know. Feels like it should mean something. Even a little.”

Your chest tightened. Neither of you said anything after that. At some point, without really acknowledging it, you ended up a little closer, hands still intertwined under the blanket. Not a kiss. Not what you planned. But not nothing, either.

And somehow, that made everything more complicated.

The basement feels smaller than it used to. Maybe it’s the noise, music echoing off the walls, everyone talking over each other, laughter coming a little too fast, a little too loud. Or maybe it’s just, everything else.

You don’t expect to feel like this, you don’t expect that. Across the room, Mike Wheeler is sitting on the arm of the couch, half-listening to Dustin, nodding along like he’s paying attention. He’s not.

You can tell, because every few seconds his eyes flick up, find you, then away again. Like it means nothing. Like it means everything. You look away first, “Hey, can you grab more drinks from upstairs?”

You don’t even catch who says it. You just nod, already moving. You can feel it before you even reach the stairs. That shift. Like something’s about to happen. Footsteps behind you, of course.

You don’t turn around this time. “Did they send you too?” you ask, already stepping into the kitchen.

“Uh- yeah.” A beat. “…or I just followed you.” He says, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. That makes your chest tighten. Just a little.

The kitchen is quiet. Too quiet compared to downstairs. The music dulls into a low thump beneath your feet. You move toward the counter, opening a cabinet you don’t really need to open.

Mike lingers near the doorway for a second, then steps in. “So,” he says.

“So,” you echo.

Silence stretches. Not empty, just heavy.

“The college visit thing. You still wanna go…together?”

You lean back against the counter slightly, “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

He nods, a hand resting on the counter beside yours. “Cool,”

It should feel normal. Just a plan. A trip. But it now the idea of it being just the two of you, that close for a whole weekend, now it feels almost dangerous. His fingers tap lightly against the counter beside you, restless.

“You’re doing that thing,”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you look like somethings on your mind.”

He huffs out a quiet breath, “Maybe.”

“You gonna tell me what it is?” your shoulder bumps his.

He hesitates, because the answer is standing right in front of him. “S’nothing,” he says anyway.

“Mike?”

His other hand resting at the other side of you, “Yeah?”

His face closer now, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, smell the light alcohol on his breath. You don’t continue, you just lift a hand to his chest, trying to keep a distance. His breath catches. Just slightly. His nose brushes yours, gentle, testing. And then again, this time more intentional.

Mike’s gaze drops, just for a second. Your fingers curl slightly at his sweater. His hands tighten against the counter. Your eyes go low- “MIKE!” The shout from downstairs cuts through everything. You both freeze. And the moment shatters.

“Dude, where are you?!”

He hesitates to push away, but you could swear you heard him curse under his breath when he does.

The car ride shouldn’t feel this easy. That’s what throws you off. Sunlight filters through the windshield, warm and steady, the road stretching out endlessly ahead. Music plays low through the speakers, something familiar, something neither of you is really paying attention to.

And somehow it’s not awkward. Mike has one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gear shift. His sleeve is pushed up slightly, hair messy from the wind when you stopped earlier.

You don’t notice his gaze occasionally flicking to your hand, your lips, your thigh. He wonders if he reached out, would it all stay this calm. He’s more relaxed than you’ve seen him in a while.

“You missed the turn,” you say.

He glances at the GPS. Shit, you’re right. “…no I didn’t.”

“You definitely did.”

“Uh… I definitely did not.”

You point ahead “That sign literally just said-”

“Okay, maybe I did,” he admits, cutting you off, but there’s a smile tugging at his mouth now. You laugh, it comes out easier than you expect.

He shakes his head, turning the wheel slightly. “You could’ve said something earlier.”

“I did!” you lightly shove his shoulder.

“You said it after we passed it!” he nudges you back, and when his hand drops, it rests dangerously close to yours.

“That still counts!”

“It does not count.”

There’s a pause, the comfortable kind. The kind of quiet that settles instead of stretches. You glance out the window, watching the blur of trees and sky, the rhythm of the road steady beneath you.

And as his fingers slip into yours, it feels… simple. Right. Like none of the complicated stuff exists. The music changes. Neither of you comments on it.

“You excited?” he asks after a while. His voice is softer now. Less teasing.

“For college?”

“Yeah.” You hesitate. “Kind of.”

He nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

A pause. Then- “It’s weird, though.”

You glance at him. “How?”

He shrugs slightly, eyes still on the road. “Just… everything changing, I guess. I hope we’ll still be… i hope you’ll still be my best friend.” Something about the way he says it, not casual, not entirely. The word ‘friend’ almost feels like poison on his tongue.

“Of course i will Mike.” you say quietly.

Silence settles again. But this time, it’s heavier. His fingers tap lightly against the console. Once. Twice. Then stop. “You ever think about…” he starts, then trails off.

“About what?”

He shakes his head. “N’thing.”

You don’t push, but you feel it. Whatever he didn’t say, sitting there between you. The road stretches on. Endless. At some point, the sky starts to shift. Clouds rolling in slowly, darkening. Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance.

The rain starts slow. Just a few drops against the windshield, barely noticeable at first. Then it doesn’t stop. Within minutes, it’s pouring, heavy, relentless, loud enough to drown out the music completely. The sky turns dark too fast, the road blurring ahead of you in streaks of grey.

The wipers can’t keep up. Mike Wheeler leans forward slightly, squinting through the glass. “Fuck I can’t see anything,” he mutters. Thunder cracks somewhere overhead.

“Maybe we should pull over for the night?”

He doesn’t argue. The motel looks like it appeared out of nowhere. One of those roadside places with flickering lights and a half-empty parking lot, rain bouncing off the pavement in sheets. Not ideal, but it’ll do.

By the time you both make it inside, you’re soaked. Your clothes cling uncomfortably, shoes squeaking against the floor as the door shuts behind you. For a second, you just stand there. Dripping, laughing a little, because what else are you supposed to do?

Mike huffs out a quiet laugh, grabbing one of the thin motel towels and tossing it toward you. You catch it, drying your arms absentmindedly, feeling oddly nostalgic. The sound of Mike dropping the keys on the side table, the one squeaky bed, the dim warmth of the lamps.

The rain patters against the window. Steady. Loud. Constant. Eventually, you sit on one side of the bed, pulling the blanket slightly around your shoulders. Mike hesitates for half a second before sitting on the other side. Not too close. Not far enough. The mattress dips slightly between you. For a while, neither of you says anything.

He shifts, pulling part of the blanket loose and holding it out toward you. “Here.” You hesitate, then take it. Your fingers brush his for just a second. It lingers. At some point, you shift slightly under the blanket. Your shoulder brushes his. He doesn’t move away. Neither do you.

Slowly, carefully, you relax back into it. His arm shifts slightly behind you. Not quite around you, just there. You could move. You don’t. And after a second, his arm settles. Lightly. Carefully.

“You ever think,” he starts quietly, “that we kind of messed that up?” You don’t have to ask what he means. “The whole… plan thing.”

You exhale slowly, “…yeah.”

His grip tightens just slightly. Barely noticeable. “You meant what you said, right?” he asks.

You glance at him.

“At the hotel,” he adds. “About it meaning something.”

Your chest tightens, “…yeah.”

He nods slowly. Like he expected that. Like he needed to hear it anyway. “Me too,” he says, quieter.

The air feels heavier. Warmer. You shift slightly, turning just enough that you’re facing him now. Closer than before. His arm holds you there, then pulls you closer, guides you a little under him. He has to hold himself up on one forearm.

Your faces are only inches apart. This is different from before. No noise. No interruptions. No one to walk in. Just this. His eyes flick down. Then back up. Your breath stutters.

“Tell me if-” he starts, voice low, but it falters halfway through as his eyes leave yours, his nose brushing your jaw as he presses a kiss there. Then another at your neck, tongue wetting the skin. Your hand lifts to the back of his neck, fingernails lightly scratching as you grasp, and his lips grow more and more intense at your throat.

“Tell me you’ve changed your mind, please.” his hand sliding to your hip. You don’t, you can’t. Even if you changed your mind, he’s the last person you could do this with and it meaning nothing. You think he wants this but doesn’t want you, and you just can’t do that.

And then- he stops. Just barely creates distance. So close you can feel his breath on your cheek. He thinks you don’t want this because you don’t want him, and he can’t do it like that.

Your chest aches a little. But you nod. And you both take this to mean you’re on the same page. This is a different kind of uncomfortable, this is a shared sinking feeling in both of you. This is it, and you both just have to accept that.

He exhales softly, resting his forehead lightly against yours for just a second before pulling back. Not far. Just enough. The space between you stays small. Until he slumps back on his side, brows furrowed, his mouth opens like he’s about to say something. He hesitates, “…goodnight,” he says, incredibly somber, with a weak smile.

Morning feels… different. Quieter than it should. Sunlight filters through the thin motel curtains, soft and warm, like nothing about last night was heavy or complicated or unfinished. Like everything is simple again. It isn’t.

You’re aware of it before you even open your eyes. The warmth. The closeness. And then you do. Mike is right there, still asleep. Somewhere in the middle of the night, the space between you disappeared completely. You’re tucked against him, his arm still loosely around you, like he never really let go.

For a second, you don’t move. Because this… feels like something. Not an almost. Not a maybe. Something real. He stirs slightly, brow furrowing before his eyes open. It takes him a second to register. Then he stills. “Oh uh- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” It’s quiet. Rough with sleep.

“Hi,” you say, softer than you meant to.

“Hi.”

Neither of you moves right away. There’s a moment where it would be so easy to close the distance. It’s already gone. There’s nothing in the way. But instead, he pulls back. Carefully. Like he doesn’t want to wake you, even though you already are.

“Uh- I should-” he gestures vaguely toward the bathroom. “Get ready. We’ll be late.”

“Right. Yeah.”

And just like that, it’s gone. But not really. Because the feeling follows you. It follows him too, and he’s currently having an existential crisis over it in the bathroom.

Why did he feel so..? When did this get so..? Are you genuinely not feeling it too? Are you not seeing it? Why were you two behaving like two magnets at the same poles? Of course he’s relating this to physics. But seriously, it’s like every time you get close, you push away, but there’s still something pulling.

Get it together Mike.

The campus is bigger than you expected. Open lawns, tall buildings, students moving in every direction like they already belong here. Like they already know where they’re going.

You walk beside Mike Wheeler, matching his pace without thinking. Not too close. Not far apart. It feels… familiar.

“Okay, this is kind of insane,” you admit, looking around.

“Yeah,” he says, glancing up at one of the buildings. “It’s… intimidating.” but even Mike wasn’t sure if he was still talking about the architecture.

You both fall into step with a small tour group, listening half-heartedly as someone talks about majors and housing and opportunities. But neither of you is really paying attention. Because every now and then, your arms brush. And every time, it lingers just a little longer than it should.

At one point, you laugh at something he says. Not even that funny. But it doesn’t matter. His smile lingers after yours fades. “Come on,” he says suddenly, nodding toward a path off to the side. “Let’s ditch this.”

You hesitate for half a second, then follow. You end up wandering without direction. Across the quad, past buildings you don’t recognize, down quieter paths where there aren’t as many people. It feels less like a tour. More like… something else.

“You totally fit in here,” he says at one point.

You glance at him, heat creeping up your neck, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs slightly. “It fits you.”

Your chest tightens a little. “…what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Just- feels right.” There’s something in the way he says it. Like he’s not just talking about the campus. You look away first.

Later, you end up sitting on the grass, shoes kicked off, the sun warmer now. People pass by, talking, laughing, living lives you haven’t stepped into yet. Mike leans back on his hands beside you. Close. Again.

“Feels weird,” he says. “Thinking about not being… back in Hawkins anymore.”

You nod. A pause.

“Things are gonna change,” he adds.

You glance at him. He’s already looking at you.

“Yeah,” you say, soft, somewhat confused where he’s going with this. Neither of you looks away. There’s that pull again. Stronger now. Not accidental anymore. Your hand rests in the grass between you. His shifts slightly closer. Not touching. Almost.

A group of students walks by, one of them glancing over. “Morning! Wait- are you guys touring too?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you smile, politely, subconsciously shifting closer to Mike.

She smiles, “You guys are adorable, total couple goals.” And then she’s already walking away.

You turn back slowly. Mike’s staring at the ground now, a faint flush creeping up his neck.

“That- she didn’t..?” you start.

“Yeah.”

Silence. Neither of you correct it. Neither of you laugh. Because somehow it felt like being caught red handed.

By the time the sun starts to dip, you’re still together. Still walking. Still talking. Like neither of you wants to be the one to end it. It feels like a date. It has all day. But neither of you says it. And maybe that’s the problem.

Because by the time you get back, by the time the night starts creeping in, that tension isn’t soft anymore. It’s tight. Restless. Waiting. And when someone mentions a party, neither of you says no.

The party feels different from the second you walk in. Not like the one back home. This one’s louder. Messier. Full of people you don’t know, voices overlapping, music too sharp, laughter that doesn’t feel familiar.

You stick close to Mike at first. Not on purpose. It just… happens. Until it doesn’t. Someone pulls you into a conversation. Then another. Then another. You lose track of him. Or maybe he lets himself get lost.

By the time you spot him again, he’s across the room. Talking to someone. A girl. He’s leaning in close to hear her over the music, smiling at something she says. His posture’s awkward, like always, but he doesn’t move away.

Something sour twists in your chest. Sharp. Sudden. You look away. You shouldn’t care. You don’t- “Hey, you good?” someone next to you asks.

You nod quickly. “Yeah. Just- gonna get some air.” You don’t wait for a response.

Outside is quieter. Cooler. The noise fades behind the door as it shuts, leaving your thoughts a little too loud instead. You barely make it halfway outside before the door is opening again behind you, footsteps, familiar ones. “Hey-”

You don’t turn around. “Are you seriously just- just leaving?” Mike’s voice, closer now, a little panicked.

“No- no. Of course not, I just needed… air.”

“That didn’t look like ‘just air.’”

“Why do you care?” That sounded way meaner than you meant it, emotions running high are to blame.

There’s a pause. “Because I do,” he says. Simple. Immediate. You turn then. And yeah, he looks frustrated. Confused. Something else underneath it.

“You should go back, y’seemed pretty busy,” stupid, incredibly stupid.

His brows pull together, “What?”

“With her,” you add, quieter but no less sharp. Understanding clicks into place. For a second, he just stares.

“You’re serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

He lets out a disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t- that was nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing to me.” immature, incredibly immature.

Silence. Tense. “Why does it matter?” he asks then. Not defensive, genuine. You hesitate. Because that’s the question, isn’t it?

“It doesn’t,” you say anyway.

“Yeah, it does.”

Your jaw tightens. “Mike-”

“No,” he cuts in, stepping closer. “Don’t- don’t do that. Don’t act like this is nothing when it’s obviously not.”

Your chest tightens. “Then what is it?”

He stops. Just for a second. Like the answer’s right there but harder to say out loud. “Just- just get in the car,” he says suddenly.

You pause. “What?”

“Just- please. Let’s just go.” Something in his tone, not angry. Not rushed. Just… serious. You don’t argue.

The car ride is quiet. Too quiet. The engine hums softly, but neither of you moves to start driving. The air feels thick. Heavy with everything that hasn’t been said.

When he pulls into the empty hotel parking lot, you turn slightly toward him. He’s already looking at you. “You really think I don’t care?”

Your throat feels tight. “I don’t know what to think.”

He exhales, shaking his head. “I was trying not to.”

“…not to what?”

“Not to make it obvious.”

That catches you off guard. “Obvious?”

“Yeah,” he says, almost frustrated now. “That I was looking for you the entire time. That I didn’t want to be talking to anyone else. That I-” He stops himself. But it’s too late.

“That you what?” you ask, quieter now.

He looks at you. Really looks at you. Like he’s considering if this is a good idea or not. “That I still want this,” he says.

“Mike, I can’t, I want it to mean-“

“Not like before,” he adds quickly. “Not the stupid plan or the list or any of that.”

He shakes his head. “That was- I don’t know what I was thinking. I never gave a shit about- going to college a virgin or anything I just- I agreed because-”

Silence presses in.

“I want it because it’s you, I always did,” he says, softer now. “No one else. Just- you.”

Your chest feels like it’s on fire, and when his hand rests on your thigh, thumb drawing small lines and circles, it makes it ten times worse.

“You think I don’t feel something more?” he continues. “Every time we’re close, every time we almost-” He exhales sharply. “It’s not nothing. It’s never been nothing.”

Your voice barely comes out. “Then why didn’t you..?”

“Because I didn’t want to mess it up,” he says immediately. “I mean I thought-“

He sighs, deep, heavy. His hand grips tighter for a moment. “I thought you didn’t see how much it meant to me or like- I just didn’t think you’d ever think of me like that.”

His voice softens. “I want it to actually mean something.”

Your eyes drop to his hand for a second. Then back up. “It already does,” you admit, your hand settling on top of his. The words hang there. Fragile. Real. Neither of you moves. But the distance between you suddenly feels… too much.

He leans in first. Slow. Careful. Like he’s done rushing this. Like he’s making sure you’re still there with him. You meet him halfway. And this time, there’s no hesitation. The kiss is soft at first. Almost tentative. Like you’re both still figuring out that this is real.

Then it deepens, his tongue searching for yours, certain, confident. His hand finds yours between the seats, fingers threading together like they’ve been waiting to. There’s no awkwardness. No confusion. No pulling back at the last second.

Then the minuscule distance has become unnatural, naturally, you find yourself in his lap. And when your fingers find his curls, that moan against your mouth kindled the fire at your core. And then there was… the poking at your inner thigh.

“Shit- sorry I’m not trying to assume it’s just- I can’t really control-“ he let out a surprised noise as you brought his hand up to your mouth, pressing a comforting kiss to his palm.

“Fuck… you’re uh- you want this?” Your tongue meeting his finger more than answered his question, warm and wet. His hips involuntarily bucking into yours as you moved to slip your shirt over your head, leaning back in to nip at his jaw.

“Mmfuck… so pretty, you’re so pretty.” confident, until your hips grind your clothed core against the wet spot on his jeans, and then he’s letting out almost embarrassing whines. His hands sliding lower to guide you exactly how he needed you.

He was so distracted under the heat of the moment and well… you, that he hadn’t even realised you’d been trying to guide his shirt off by the hem. But once he came to his senses, he was quick to obey.

You’d seen him shirtless plenty of times but… this felt different. Being able to trace the moles that speckled along his torso, all the way down to the minimal hairs just above his waistband, unrealising to how wound up your little exploration had him until you heard it.

“Please- fuck- please stop teasing me. I need you so fucking bad, please touch me.”

You raised a brow, honestly a little flattered now, your fingers slowly unbuckled his belt, tracing over the zipper of his jeans, down his left leg…

“You’re so- come on you’re killing me here,” and as your hands completely left him, he seemed to panic, “Wait, wait, wait- I’m sorry, I’ll be patient, I’ll be good. Just-“

And as your hands moved to shove off your own shoes and pants, then he shut up, for about five seconds. You literally had to hold down his hips as you unzipped him, letting go once you could pull his pants and boxers down to his ankles.

You paused, gawking honestly.

“Am I… is it.. did you even look the first time or..? Fuck you’re scaring me, say something, please?”

Truthfully he was slim, but more than made up for it in length, tip already leaking. “Sorry I was just- you’re perfect Mike.” his chest felt warm at how sweet that sounded considering… the subject matter.

“So are you- like- you look perfect, you are perfect.” his hand lifted to your neck, pulling you to his lips again. His tip unintentionally grazing your clit in the process, twitching as you moaned, head now resting at the crook of his neck.

“You sound so- fuck- so fucking good” he groaned as you started to grind against him, his hands gripping and encouraging your hips deeper. And then your head lifted, your eyes meeting his as you reached to slide your panties to the side.

Your wetness smearing down his length now that you were skin to skin, Mike swore he could pass out, right here and die a happy man. Your hand hit the steamed window for support as you began to sink down onto him.

“Oh fuck yes- you’re so- so tight and warm- I can- are you okay? I’m not hurting you- am I?” At this point he was just a bumbling idiot, but he was man enough to check up on you.

All you could do was press a reassuring kiss to his pulse point, his fingers came up to gently pet your hair as he bottomed out. And then your hips started to adjust, preparing to move, but Mike was worried that if he even breathed that would be it. The knot low in his back dangerously close to unraveling.

But when you moved, it was a whole different realm of pleasure, and he wasn’t going to be the one to cut it short. He was holding on like his life depended on it, during the heavy minutes, he was still muttering praises. “Oh God yes- just- if you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna- fuck you’re so perfect,”

His lips traveled to press tender kisses along your jaw, down your neck and to your chest, and then one long lick all the way back up. And as your lips briefly met his, only to part and say “Mike I- fuck I love you,” that was it for him.

Thick, warm ropes of cum pumping into you with a low, deep groan. “Shitshitshitshit I should’ve asked you- oh God this is so-“ his final thrusts incredibly sloppy.

Your release quickly following his, every noise you made, the way your nails scraped the back of his scalp. He was quick to stop rambling to say the least while the two of you caught your breath.

“I love you so fucking much, I’m so glad it was you. Was that- was I okay? God I hope it was at least near as good for you as it was for me-“

“You were perfect Mike, exactly how I imagined it.” Pressing a tender kiss to his cheek, voice a little exasperated, “I love you.”

[tublrella]

babys first post.. 🫣 guys i think the plots too long

NEIGHBOURS

synopsis:mike and yn arent really much of an interesting topic, until one nasty comment towards max triggers an a series of events, resulting in an unexpected sexual confrontation meanishmike

content:smut lol, blowie, and dryhumping x

neighbours. since adolescence, mike and yn had always been a few paces from eachother, watching one another thrive and fall, grow and mature (or not in some cases), and most importantly throughout puberty.

although the pair have somewhat of a relationship, if you could even label it as such, ever since graduating middle school, conversation between the two has been... minimal.

its not that they dislike eachother or anything, its just mikes so.. mike? dungeons and dragons, not yn's scene. bratty man-baby behaviour, yikes. and sporting whatever a 'hellfire' is to school, shocking. obviously mike has a thing or two to say about yn, but thats irrelevant - #girlpower x

despite all this secret animosity, mike and yn do share a mutual sense of awkward loyalty to one another.

maybe its the annual backyard bbq with their freakishly similar parents that maintains the fleeting relationship, long due past its expiration date. so until otherwise, until all ties are cut, both will stay polite, make small talk, and plaster a smile on when necessary.

oh and their windows which lie directly opposite one another.

__________________

max, yn's best friend, with a slam of her lunch tray, positioned herself opposite yn bursting into whatever conversation they had been having in the extensive lunch queue.

"i just dont get it, how could anyone be so full of themself?" she droned whilst still chewing onto a piece of god knows what this school serves,

"i dont know, that whole entire friend group is beyond me" yn gossiped back with a hysterical scoff as though the situation was almost comical.

"maaaaaaxx!!" beamed lucas, approaching with a wide smile, immediately translating to yn that he was about to request for some dumb shit.

"what now?"

"would you please, pretty please, play dnd tonight, we REALLY need you"

"well if you REALLY need me" she retorted with sarcasm tainting every syllable

"so you will?!"

"no"

dustin and mike who resided behind sighed in unison.

until mikes eyes sparkled with mischief

"why you gotta be such a bitch"

before max could respond with something equally as harsh yn interrupted

"excuse you?"

"i wasnt talking to you"

"you could be talking to mrs fucking fergurson in the library and id still interrupt, who do you think you are?"

mike let out a ridiculous scoff as dustin and lucas' eyes burned holes in the canteen floor

"no im serious, do you just speak to people like that?"

"whats got you so riled up?"

"you! youre such a dick!"

mike responded with a grin as if to demonstrate his lack of care towards the matter, and complete complacency to his own unlikeable character.

he was truly comfortable being a dick, all this time yn just thought his personality was a product of never being confronted, but no, he just genuinely could not care less. wow. all loyalty towards that ass mike wheeler was lost then and there.

_____________________________

the next months were hell.

relentless back and forth bickering between mike and yn, anywhere and everywhere for instance the library. mike asked question after question about yn's project

"whatcha doin' it on?"

"how much do you really care about animal rights though",

"dont you eat meat? oh the horror."

"i think im gonna do mine on animal rights too" he mumbled just loud enough so yn could hear, the smirk on his dumb face being heard in his voice.

god he was so irritating, it was as if he had perfected the art of being the most fucking annoying version of himself he possibly could be like on walks home:

"can i just walk with you?" he asked smugly, knowing he was basically strapping her in for a rollercoaster of torture

"id prefer if we didnt, mike."

"well im here now. anyway, your pantie label has been showing all day"

"what?"

"yeah i was going to tell you but the i thought, no its much funnier to watch to strut around full of blissful ignorance."

"i fucking hate you."

but yn quickly caught onto his game, he was ragebaiting her. what he didnt know was, yn was more cunning than he could ever be.

she targeted his most cherished, what made mike mike, and she crushed it to absolute smithereens.

physics class, every time mike raised that slender hand of his she would shout out the answer quicker than he could fight back. every test, she excelled; studying for hours on end, for the sole purpose of dismantling that high horse mike has so generously plonked himself on. she took on hours of extra credit, forced her way to top of the class, and squashed that stupid fuck in the process.

soon, mike's insults morphed from harmless digs to evoke a reaction, to personal attacks, carefully crafted in order to grasp onto any ego he had left. but yn was his match made in heaven.

"your skirts too short, you look like a whore."

okay, that was brutal, but yn went unfazed. she simply raised her hand:

"sir? mikes nose is blocking my view i cant see shit."

mike went crimson red, his elementary school name of 'frog-face' re-engraving itself in his head.

"detention for you, that is simply unacceptable yn!"

and that was that, yn glided out of that room like shed won a medal.

the insults grew worse, and so did their abilities to stand one another, but still, they stayed stubborn to the end goal. destroy eachother.

strangely in the midst of all the arguing, it somehow became apparent to the party that yn and mike were soulmates, no no not that kind, but that only one another could handle eachothers brutality and vicious words. and particular facts will stated about the situation stuck with mike, alot.

______________________________

late one summers night, yn perched on her window sill, soaking up the idyllic scene of hawkins suburbs, whilst sparking up a cigarette, letting the ash fall onto the roof below her, silently praying that some unfortunate disaster didnt occour, causing a house fire, so wrapped up in her own mind and the moment that presented itself before her.

after brushing her teeth and turning her record player on to lowly emit some daryl hall & john oats, she began swaying mindlessly round her room, avoiding sleep on this perfect friday.

frantic knocks resounded about her room, coming from the window she previously had rested upon. precautiously, she tiptoed over to the scene of the crime, tentatively stripping back her lacy white curtains.

mike? mike wheeler?

mike stood teetering, unsteadily trying to gain composure on the slanted roof that acted as a pathway to her window. noticing her disturbed, yet curious face mike put on a cheesy smile as if to say "please let me in i mean no harm" in the most cringe way possible.

yn opened the window, then created space to allow mike to stumble his way into her bedroom and alongside that a long expectant pause in order for him to explain his visit.

"you smoke?"

he said while trying to oxygenate himself again, he was no athlete, and the effort it took to get up had cleary taken it out of him.

"...yea? and?"

"well i dont know, just didnt expect it."

"you came all the way from your house to mine to say... that?"

"well when you put it like that."

"get out mike" yn said exasperated, she could deal with his purposefully annoying questions in the week, but her weekend was a non-negotiable.

"nonono sorry thats not all that i came to say"

"okay then speak, ur weirding me out.. weirdo" yea she definitely wasnt as sharp on the weekend.

"dont you think were like perfect, for eachother?"

"what the fuck mike"

he laughed, like actually laughed, acknowledging the stupidity behind his theory of perfection.

"our back and fourth, i- i love it, i dont think anything, i mean anyone, has ever got me as riled up and full of ambition as you do."

cogs turned in yn's head, reminiscing on the moments of love for killing eachother they had shared, the way that his eyes gleamed at the sight of her, no not just her misery, but any time she rebuttled against one of his stupid comments. the nights she had spent giggling to herself concocting ways to taunt mike before realising she sounds like a maniac. his friends sitting sideline like it was some sort of ongoing court case, unfolding before their very eyes whilst they spat nonsense at eachother. the way that all else in the world cleared when they got into their intoxicating interactions, how all background noise dissipated, she had always ruled it off as her own pesky habit of wanting to be right, but it was true he was right.

somewhere along the way her hell had became heaven, in its own sick and twisted way.

mike took a daring step towards her, hey eyes darted, meeting with his, mirroring that same agonising fight for glory over one another.

no one was backing down, eyes sharp, intense, full of lust.

mike had always been attractive in yns eyes, his presentation was what stunted him, but now in his plaid pajama pants, toloused hair, and whatever band t-shirt he was wearing, he looked... hot. his nose, same one that she had previously broadcasted as big and distracting, now drew her in, freckles journeyed from either cheek, meeting in the middle of his nose, and his eyes, it was like they had their own magnetic attraction, so dark, so captivating.

she watched mike as he scanned her, top to bottom her prominent collarbones, which played their role as a frame to her gold intial letter necklace too well, now so much more seductive, as he continued down to her pink,flimsy, off the shoulder tee, drowning her figure, then those tiny short shorts. fuck. he was being confronted, something he didnt like, face to face with the realisation that yn was beautiful, the stubborn look in her eyes which only enticed him more, her eyelashes, fluttering as her eyes connected with his, totally erasing her stubborn nature, stripping her back to the kind-hearted yet passionate girl he once knew.

"i want you" he choked, flustered by the intimacy

"do something about it then" she retorted, yn was desperate.

with one swift motion mike planted his plump lips on yns' giving himself over to her, being vulnerable, for once, she returned the favour, slowly and erotically colliding her lips with his, bringing a hand to his chest and tugging at the shirt to balance herself, as she lifted herself to meet him.

still intertwined, yn gripped him with her other hand, and lead him to the bed. following orders, he lay back as yn crept onto him, positioning herself centre on his dick.

some few sloppy kisses later, mike couldnt bear it, with much assertion, he sat up, grabbed onto yns waist and started manipulating her movement grinding her on his hard, needy, dick. the thin fabric of his trousers and her shorts rubbing deliciously, stimulating the both of them, mike releasing low, struggling grunts, product of his twitching cock itching for more.

with a flash of urgency, mike began to rut upwards into yns throbbing core, searching for any glimpse of higher satisfaction, noticed by yn,she grips his wrists, halting any movement, leaving mike sexually frustrated.

"stand up"

mike immediately rises to his feet like a dog in training. yn, calculated, and calmly walks excuciatingly slow to mikes gaze, returning them back to that same moment prior, but this time she had something more in her eyes, no longer lust, but curiosity.

yn lowered to her knees. whistfully eyeing mike up from the floor, your move mike. he wasted absolutely no time, fussing with the drawstrings on his pants, and with one tug his pink, elongated dick sprung out. yn gasped, examining it, taking it all in. so this is what mike wheelers dick looks like.

mike scanned her, waiting impatiently for her to stake her claim, and she did, with eyes locked on his, glossy and soft. she kitten licked his tip, teasingly. mike threw his head back exposing his adams apple, bobbing with a gulp of satisfaction mixed with disbelief. yn worked, making back and forth motions, bottoming him out in her mouth, using her natural lubricant to increase stimulation, sending mike into a state of absolute gratification, with no warning, mike placed a hand on the back of yns head lightly , not to exploit her or for his own gain by pushing her head, but to thank her, stroking her hair delicately, removing hair out of her face that may be interrupting her flow.

mike was now twitching around her puffy lips, signalling to yn this was the final stretch, give all youve got. yn began relentlessly bobbing herself forward, his tip bashing the back of her throat rythmically, sure to leave a bruise in the morning. mike removed himself fromher face, finishing himself off, cascading ribbons of creamy white on her pretty face, a sight that mike would be sure to rememeber forever.

___________________________

monday morning came, the sun emitting rays of yellowyorange, that peaked through her lace curtains. memories of the night she spent with mike played in her mind like a broken record, that morning yn walked hand in hand to school with mike as cheesy as it is. and the two bickered the whole way, with underlying tones of flirtation and genuine happiness.

im sorry i feel like the smut was really half arsed i feel really cringe writing it but pls be brutally honest if anyone actually reads this ❤️

[homosexual-mike-wheeler]

as much as i love mike being needy and submissive during sex, i also need him to be pathetic and submissive with will all the time. will saying offhandedly that hes thirsty and mike returning two seconds later with a full glass of water. mike being frustrated with homework, complaining about his professors when will gently puts his hand in mikes hair and coos at him and suddenly mike isnt so stressed. mike refusing to do the dishes bc he hates doing them and will giving him the look and boom, all the dishes are clean. will taking it upon himself to make mike a schedule for his down time/when hes not in class bc he knows mike loves having will control little things like that.

basically i need mike and will to be in a 24/7 non sexual D/s relationship

[divinecleradin]

when Will's looking at Mike like he wants to eat him alive and Mike's lowk excited and jumping for joy

[mikestinywaist]

and if i said werehare but top!will/bottom!mike, what then,,,,,,,,,,

everybody sees them and assumes things are one way because, obviously, mike is tall and broody & will is sweet and nervous around others, so they think they've got it all figured out. but when it's just the two of them??? ohhhhhhhhh let's just say bunnies are known to have big families for a reason.

mike, with his wagging tail and puppy eyes, bending over in an instant anytime will gets horny (and he gets horny a lot), whining in pure bliss as will pounds away with his bunny stamina for hours,,,,

grooves and bruises in the shape of two perfect front teeth permanently littering mike's neck, and he walks around with them proudly because his wolf instincts sing at the thought of being claimed by his mate, even if will can't technically give him a 'proper' mating bite

both of them being naturally possessive creatures, and that only being taken to the extreme when it comes to each other. mike will be practically glued to will's back anytime they're out together, looming over him and glaring over his shoulder at anyone who dares to even look at his bunny for too long. will rubs his scent all over mike, to the point where the party is constantly complaining or teasing mike about will 'marking his burrow'. will is also unable to stop his foot from furiously thumping whenever someone comes up and flirts with mike right in front of him, and will all but drag him back to their nest so he can press mike's face into linens drenched in their mixed scent, reminding mike exactly who he belongs to

when they're alone together (and even sometimes when they're around other people) one or both of them will get distracted or zone out and start using the other as a chew toy. will is particularly fond of biting or nibbling any part of mike he can reach, bunny instincts soothed by the compulsive gnawing. mike, on the other hand, is a licker. when he needs to relax, or if he's just feeling calm and affectionate, he'll mindlessly lap at will's neck, his shoulders, his callused artist's fingers, eyes drifting shut as will rakes a hand through his hair and plays with his ears, cooing at him for being such a good, sweet boy

will playing with mike's long, fluffy tail and teasingly whispering in his ear that it makes such a good handhold whenever will is fucking him

anyways. more top!will and bottom!mike in byler variants please gang 🛐

[puppydogmike]

i’m writing a thesis paper psychoanalyzing will byers on why i think he is a dom top but will people eat it up…..