‘nandes ᵕ̈

teaching - virgin!mike wheeler x fem!reader

mike wheeler was a virgin. it wasn't something he was embarrassed of, or something he even hid. but you woke something up in him, something deep and urgent. he'd lost count of how many times he'd jerked off thinking about you; your tits, your lips, your hands. he was obsessed with his own girlfriend. and he wanted his first time to be with her. with you.

you weren't the type to just give it up to anyone, but you were far from a virgin either. and mike knew that.

“you sure about this, mike?” you said, your voice soft. "I’m sure. I need you so bad. please, teach me how to make you feel good” you almost laughed at the needy look on his face. "okay. sit over there” he obeyed, sitting on the bed. you settled into his lap and felt just how hard he already was. his hands landed on your waist, almost shy. "you're so beautiful” he murmured, eyes shining.

you tilted your head and kissed him. slow, deep, filthy. mike moaned into your mouth, his hands sliding up your back. he wanted to pull your shirt off, but he didn't want to stop kissing you. so you started to move. hips grinding against his in a slow, teasing rhythm. "you feel that, mike?" he could only whimper, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. his dick was throbbing in his pants, so hard it hurt.

then you got down. you positioned yourself between his legs, unbuttoned his jeans, pulled the zipper down slow. when you pulled down his boxers, mike's dick sprang out, hard, the tip pink and wet. "look at me. I want you to watch everything i'm about to do to you." your tongue slid from the base to the tip, tasting the precum. "f-fuck..." he stammered, his hand moving to your hair. "feels that good, baby?" "I’m not gonna last long if you—" you smiled and took him deep, all the way into your mouth, relaxing your throat. mike moaned loud, muffling the sound with his hand. your head bobbed up and down, your hand wrapped around what your mouth couldn't reach, while your other hand cupped his balls. "holy shit” he rolled his eyes back. when you sucked hard on the tip, mike yelped. "stop, stop, stop!" he gently pulled your hair. "if you keep going, I’m gonna come in your mouth, and I wanna—” he didn't finish the sentence, but you understood. you got up, wiped your mouth, and smiled. "your turn, then”

he wanted it so, so bad, to make you feel good. he wanted to be good at this, wanted you to moan because of him, wanted you to feel the same heaven he felt just minutes ago. "teach me, princess” he begged against your skin, kissing your neck, moving down to the top of your breasts. "teach me everything, please. I wanna make you feel good” his lips traveled down your skin until he reached your breasts. you guided his head. "suck slowly. use your tongue” he sucked gently, and the moan that escaped you made his dick pulse. he alternated between sucking and licking, his other hand squeezing your other breast. "now go down. eat my pussy, baby”

he went down, kissing your stomach, your thighs. when he got close to your pussy, he kissed you there. his tongue slid inside, and the taste was something new to him. when he heard your moan, he repeated the move with more confidence. when he found your clit, you arched your back. "yeah... keep going, mike” he sucked and licked, but his own arousal was unbearable. without thinking, he started grinding his hips against the mattress, moaning against you. "now fingers. use your fingers, mike” you asked. he licked his own fingers and brought them to you. you guided his hand. "slow. and keep sucking it” he pushed one finger in, then two, curling them inside you. the sound you made was the best thing he'd ever heard. "don't stop, please don't stop” you begged. your whole body arched, a long moan escaping, and he felt you clench around his fingers.

it took you a few seconds to come back to yourself. "did I do it right?" he asked, slowly crawling up your body. "you were perfect” you pulled him into a kiss. he moaned against your mouth, his dick still hard, pressing against your thigh. "please, I need—" "I know, mike”

he positioned himself between your legs, his hand reaching down to guide his dick to your entrance. the tip touched you. "yeah... that's gonna—" you confirmed, wrapping your legs around his waist. "slow. go slow” he pushed in just the tip at first. "god, you're so... so... tight”

he pushed all the way inside you, his balls pressing against your body. he stayed still for a moment, eyes closed, forehead resting against yours, trying not to come right then. he started moving slowly. gradually, he sped up. "faster” you asked, and he obeyed.

he picked up the pace, his hips slapping against yours in a wet, obscene sound that filled the room. "baby, I’m not gonna last..." he moaned, his voice breaking. "I’m gonna come with you, mike. keep going” he kept going. the orgasm built, unstoppable. "baby, oh my god, I’m gonna come..." "come, mike. come inside me”

the moan he let out shattered the silence of the room. he buried his face in your neck and came, his mind dissolving into pieces. he heard you moan and felt you squeeze around him.

mike's mind was a mess. he'd just felt the best feeling in his entire life.

(check part 1 first)

after what went down in the car, bucky swore he was gonna stay away from you. not because he didn’t want you. the opposite actually. the memory of your tongue around his dick kept popping up at the worst possible moments: during training, in the middle of the night when he’d wake up hard, or even while he was having a conversation with your dad. and that was the problem. you’re steve’s daughter. and steve rogers didn’t deserve to find out his daughter’s getting fucked by his best friend who’s over 100 years old with serious mental issues.

staying away worked for a few days. until that night you showed up at his apartment door, your hair in a messy bun and that smile he already knew was lowkey dangerous. “left my jacket in your car” you said, walking past him like you didn’t need an invite. “the black leather one. you said you’d give it back” bucky closed the door slowly. “I was gonna drop it off at the tower tomorrow” “are you avoiding me, barnes?” he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’m not avoiding you, kid. I’m respecting your dad” “my dad knows I can take care of myself. besides… you never even properly thanked me that night” you stepped closer, chin up, mouth so close he could feel your warm minty breath. bucky uncrossed his arms, his fingertips fighting not to grab your waist. “you want me to thank you properly, yeah?” you answered with a smile, and that was enough.

bucky grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you like he needed it more than anything else. he bit your lower lip and heard your muffled moan against his mouth. your hands slid up his shoulders, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “you really want this?” he murmured against your lips, already guiding you toward the couch. “stop talking, bucky”

bucky made a point of taking off every piece of your clothing slowly, like someone unwrapping something they’d waited way too long to touch. “lie down” he ordered, voice lower than a whisper. you laid down on the couch, hair spread over the armrest, eyes fixed on him as he knelt on the floor between your legs. he took your panties off with the same care, pulling them slowly over your thighs, down your calves, past your feet. you let out a nervous laugh when the underwear finally flew to the corner of the room. “nervous?” he asked, thumbs running over your pussy, spreading you open gently. “no” you bit your lip. “just… impatient”

and then he went down.

his tongue ran over your folds until it hit the exact spot where your clit was already throbbing, swollen. you arched your back before he even really started, a moan slipping out. bucky repeated the movement, licking the whole length. “like that?” he asked. “more. please, more” he smiled against your skin and obeyed. his human hand came up to hold your hip, keeping you in place while he deepened the rhythm. you were moaning shamelessly by then, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling whenever he did something particularly good.

then he used the metal hand. the cold touch on your inner thigh made you scream. it was such a violent contrast to the heat of his mouth, to the fire building inside you. bucky slid one finger inside you, then two, slow, feeling your walls clench. he curled his fingers inward, found that spot, and pressed while his mouth sucked on your clit. “oh god. bucky—” you arched completely off the couch, fingers gripping his hair so hard it hurt. bucky didn’t stop. he kept licking, the metal fingers still inside you, moving in slow circles that stretched out every wave of pleasure.

when you finally relaxed, dropping your head back onto the couch, breathless, he lifted his face to look at you. then bucky went down again. this time, he was more thorough. almost cruel. his nose pressed against your clit while the metal fingers moved inside you in a slow rhythm that made your eyes roll back. his human hand came up to squeeze one of your breasts, thumb brushing over your hard nipple. “do you have any idea what you did to me in that car?” you tried to answer, but all that came out was a moan. “I kept thinking about your mouth” he continued, fingers speeding up as he sucked your clit. “your tongue around me. you don’t even know how many times I pictured you and had to take care of it with my own hand”

you almost screamed when he pushed his fingers deeper at the same time. the second orgasm was slower. you writhed, hips jerking out of control, a long moan tearing out of your throat.

when you finally stopped shaking, he crawled up slowly, kissed your belly button, the space between your breasts, the curve of your neck. and finally, your forehead. “now we’re even” he whispered, his stubble brushing your temple. you laughed, breathless, and lifted a shaky hand to trace his jaw. “or we can just keep owing each other forever” bucky stared at you for a second.

and then, for the first time in days, he actually smiled. “steve’s gonna kill me” he murmured. “he doesn’t have to know everything” you answered, chuckling.

(check part 2)

bucky didn't say a word when you got in the car. he just started the engine, his fingers wrapped in that black glove tapping impatiently against the steering wheel. the silence inside the car was heavy.

he'd only come to pick you up because your dad, steve, asked him to. "she's coming back from some date, buck. just make sure she gets home safe, please"

you could picture the scene: steve with that worried dad look, and bucky rolling his eyes before grabbing the keys. but he went. and now here he was, jaw clenched, eyes fixed on the road.

you were frustrated, and a little bit drunk. the date had been a disaster. the guy talked too much, laughed at his own jokes, and the kiss was awful. gross.

and the worst part? you couldn't stop looking at bucky's profile. the line of his jaw, the dark hair falling across his forehead, the way his black shirt stretched across his shoulders. the tension between you wasn't new, it had been there for months in lingering looks and almost-touches. but you'd never done anything. and neither had he.

until tonight.

traffic was stopped. bucky sighed deeply, ran his metal hand over his face, and that's when you saw it. he was looking at your legs. his eyes dropped in a quick glance, but you noticed. your short skirt had ridden up on your thigh, and he couldn't look away, his chest rising and falling faster now. when he realized you'd caught him, he turned his face toward the windshield like nothing had happened.

you had to break that unbearable silence. "no guy these days even knows how to kiss" bucky laughed low. "maybe you're just picking the wrong boys, kid" you turned your face toward him, confused, your heart beating faster than it should. he didn't look back. just drove with one hand, turned down a dark street, and stopped the car. bucky killed the engine. now he looked at you. didn't say a word. just waited. "bucky…" your voice came out shaky. he raised an eyebrow, half-smiling.

you leaned in. your hand trembled slightly as you reached for the seatbelt, then for the button on his jeans. he didn't lift a finger to help. just watched, like he wanted to see how far you'd go. all the way, apparently.

your fingers found the zipper. pulled it down slowly. and when you hesitated for a second, it was his metal hand that came to you, reaching for your hair. those cool fingers brushed the strands away from your face with a tenderness that hurt from how contradictory it was. you held his gaze for a second, and then you went down.

the first time you touched him, he let out a low groan. his metal hand tightened just a little more in your hair, and the other gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles went white. "you have no idea what you do to me" he whispered and you didn't answer. you didn't need to.

bucky gasped when you wrapped your fingers around the base, your other hand braced on his thigh for balance. your thumb slid along a thick vein, feeling the pulse against his skin. you licked the tip in slow circles, and he threw his head back, a moan slipping from his throat. "wanna watch me lose control, is that it?"

you were already going down again, deeper, until your eyes watered. your mouth slid wet and hot, moving up and down at a pace you knew was cruel, until he started shaking. the metal hand slid to your neck, not squeezing, just feeling your throat move as you took him in. the sound was obscene, mixed with the low moans he couldn't hide anymore.

meanwhile, your hand worked what your mouth couldn't reach, until you tasted the precome, until you felt his whole body lock up. "fuck…" he whispered, voice cracking. his hand tightened in your hair, pulling gently. "if you keep going, i'm gonna come in your mou—" you didn't let him finish. you went all the way down, throat relaxed, and when you felt the first spasm, you moaned against him on purpose.

bucky came and you swallowed, lips still sucking slowly until he went soft, until his fingers loosened.

hawkins sun was absolutely brutal that day. so the wheelers’ pool was the only place the party wanted to be.

eleven was floating on a board, lucas and max were arguing about who could dive deeper in the pool, will was laughing at some dumb joke dustin made. and you were there, outside the water, pulling your shirt off. mike saw. of course he saw. he was pretending to adjust his glasses, but his eyes were drawn to you like a magnet.

you were dustin’s little sister. two years younger. he’d known you since you were in diapers with your hair in pigtails. you guys had always been best friends. totally innocent. well, at least until you pulled off your shirt and revealed that black bikini that barely covered anything. mike noticed how much you’d matured. he couldn’t help but notice how your boobs had grown, how your skin had a slight golden tan.

you bent down to take off your shorts, and he saw the curve of your waist, the side of your ass covered in black fabric. his brain just short-circuited.

holy shit. you weren’t dustin’s little sister anymore. you were so fucking hot, there was no other word for it.

for one sick second, he imagined digging his fingers into the skin of your thigh, pulling you against him, running his fingers down your legs.

dustin was fifteen feet away, and if he knew his friend was fantasizing about his little sister, he’d rip mike’s head off with his bare hands. and mike couldn’t even blame him, because what he was thinking right now was disgusting.

he wanted to fuck you until you forgot your own name. wanted to come on your face, on those perfect tits, inside you, until you were overflowing.

he felt sick for that. and hard. really, really hard.

hours later, the sun was starting to go down and the group was scattered around the yard. mike stepped away for a second to grab a towel from his room. when he got back, everyone had ice creams. “you disappeared, wheeler” max said. mike rolled his eyes, but before he could answer, you appeared in front of him, smiling that smile that made dimples pop up in your cheeks. in your hand, a vanilla ice cream. “I got your favorite. don’t worry, it didn’t melt.” mike felt his face get hot. “thanks” he mumbled, taking the ice cream, feeling your fingers brush against his for a second too long. you smiled and went to sit on the edge of the pool, your legs in the water. mike sat next to you, closer than he should have.

the whole group was in the water now, except for you two, and mike couldn’t stop looking at you.

you were tasting your ice cream slowly, wrapping your lips around it, sucking gently.

focus on something else, mike. anything else.

he looked at you again and saw a thick drop of vanilla drip off your ice cream, sliding down your chin and going slowly, so slowly, until it landed right between your boobs, right in that spot where the black fabric met your skin. “oh shit” you laughed, trying to hold the ice cream with one hand while the other came up to wipe it off. you ran the back of your hand over your boob, wiping away the white liquid. the bikini fabric shifted a little with the movement, showing another inch of your skin.

mike’s mind wandered. what if it was his cum dripping down you instead?

he imagined your lips parted, while the liquid ran down your throat and over your boobs. you wiped your chin with your finger, gathering the rest of the cream, and then brought your finger to your mouth. you sucked it slowly, looking at him. innocently. no bad intentions. fuck, you had no idea what you were doing to him right now. “you’re spacing out” you said, laughing softly. mike forced a smile. “yeah, just tired” he threw the wet towel over his lap, trying to hide the bulge in his shorts.

you finished your ice cream. “come swim with me” you were already getting up, ready to jump in, and mike could only nod, hypnotized by the curve of your ass as you dove in.

the group was all in the shallow end, distracted. you and mike found a more secluded corner, where the water hit his chest and your shoulder. “better?” you asked, tilting your head. “yeah” he lied. because it wasn’t. you were so close he could smell the sunscreen on your skin, your wet hair stuck to your face, the droplets running down the back of your neck. and your eyes. god, your eyes. mike had never noticed how pretty they were.

you were quiet for a moment. “you’re really distracted today, mike” you whispered. “cause you look so pretty” your eyes went wide, your cheeks turned pink, and you bit your bottom lip. “thank you” you answered, quiet and shy. mike’s heart raced. fuck, why did he say that? that wasn’t supposed to come out. what an idiot. “I mean, you know… it’s just, um…” he stammered. “mike” you quickly looked behind you. the party was distracted. no one was looking.

you moved closer, and your lips touched his. it was fast. lasted only a second, but mike felt every millisecond carved into his soul. “sorry” you whispered, blushing even more. mike didn’t think. he pulled you back, one hand on the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your wet hair, and kissed you for real.

the kiss lasted long enough for mike to forget where he was. everything disappeared. there was only his mouth against yours. you were the one who pulled back first, with a small laugh muffled against his lips. “mike, they’ll see” he blinked, coming back to reality in fits and starts. “yeah… yeah, of course” he said. you actually laughed now, and he couldn’t help it, he smiled back, kind of dazed. your eyes were shining, and he felt an insane urge to kiss you again.

you swam to the shallow end, getting near the group. dustin was sitting on the edge, complaining he was hungry. “got anything to eat, wheeler?” max turned around, resting her arms on the edge. “yeah, go get some snacks since you live here” dustin said “you guys are so lazy” he grumbled. you grabbed a towel. “we’ll go make some sandwiches inside”

you both headed toward the kitchen, which was empty and quiet. you went straight to the counter to make a sandwich. mike stopped behind you. he moved closer, pressing his body against yours without thinking. you froze for a second, and he pressed his lips very slowly to the back of your neck. “mike, stop” you laughed, trying to sound scolding. you turned to face him. “everyone’s right outside” “but no one’s in here” he replied. his eyes dropped to your mouth and he saw you bite your lip.

before you could say anything, mike put his hands on your waist and lifted you, sitting you on the counter. “you’re insane” you whispered. “completely” he kissed you. this time was different. it wasn’t fast or pool-tasting. his hand ran down your thigh, squeezing gently. you let out a small moan against his mouth, and mike felt all the blood rush to his dick in an instant. he pressed his hips against yours without even realizing it. his wet swim trunks stuck to your bikini fabric, and you suddenly stopped the kiss. your eyes went wide. he knew you’d felt it. his dick was rock hard, pressing against your crotch, and there was no hiding it.

you looked away, but instead of pulling back, your hand went down slowly. the tips of your fingers touched the bulge through his shorts. you ran your hand slowly over the fabric, touching without really knowing what you were doing, but with genuine curiosity. “does it feel good?” “yeah” he answered too fast. “don’t stop” you kept touching, and mike had to brace his hands on the counter on either side of you so he wouldn’t collapse. “I need you. I want you so bad. I’ve always wanted” you gave him a little peck on the tip of his nose and opened your legs a little wider. mike felt the invitation and moved closer, pressing his hard bulge exactly where the thin bikini fabric covered your pussy. you moaned along with him.

but then you got down from the counter and stood in front of him, your eyes shining with nerves and excitement. your hand trembled a little when you touched the waistband of his shorts. you pulled the elastic down slowly. his dick sprang out, erect, the tip pink and glistening slightly. you held your breath. you looked at him. “what do I do?” his hand guided yours, slowly, wrapping your fingers around his length. “like this. not too tight. up and down, kind of… kind of like that” you tried to copy him, and mike closed his eyes immediately. the motion was clumsy, but god, your warm, curious little hand holding him so carefully made him moan softly. “squeeze a little tighter. and if you want… if you want to use your mouth…”

you looked at him, bit your lip, and lowered yourself down. the first time your mouth touched the head of his dick, mike almost yelled. he put his hand on the back of your neck without squeezing, just to steady himself. “slow. yeah… yeah, like that” mike felt the roof of your mouth, the heat of your tongue, the way you looked up to see if you were doing it right. “fuck” he moaned, and felt the orgasm building. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna come” he warned. you didn’t pull away. in fact, you kept sucking, your eyes looking up at him.

mike came in your mouth with a muffled groan, his fingers tightening in your hair. you were a little startled by the taste and the amount, but you tried to swallow, making a slight face. “sorry” he said immediately, panting. you wiped the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand and laughed softly. mike got dressed quickly. “they’re gonna wonder why we took so long” “shit, I didn’t even make the sandwiches” you rolled your eyes. mike laughed, stepped closer, and gave you a soft peck on the lips. “I really like you” “I like you too, mike” you smiled.

for a second, neither of them said anything. but mike knew, and so did you, that after that day, nothing was ever going to be the same.

couldn’t help it - bf!peter parker

the movie had been playing for a few minutes, but neither of you were paying attention. you were too busy sitting in peter’s lap. your fingers lazily wandered through his messy curls, brushing against the nape of his neck.

peter had his face buried in the warm curve of your neck. his breath was slow and warm against your skin as he pressed lazy kisses there. one behind your ear, another trailing down your jaw. his hands, which had been resting on your waist, gripped your thighs and pulled you even closer, like he didn’t want a single inch of space between you.

you tilted your head, giving him more room, and a shiver ran down your spine when his lips found that little spot right behind your ear. his hands started to explore, slowly sliding up your back, pulling you into an embrace that was pure want. when he lifted his head, his dark eyes were half-lidded, focused on your mouth. you didn’t wait. you leaned in and kissed him. slowly at first.

without thinking, your hips started to move. a slow, circular motion, a gentle grind in his lap. you felt his body tense beneath his sweats, and a muffled groan escaped peter’s throat, swallowed by your mouth.

he matched your rhythm, lifting his hips to meet yours, creating a delicious friction that made you bite down on his lip a little harder. his sweatpants did nothing to hide how hard he was, and the feeling of him pressing against you, even through the fabric, was almost unbearably good.

peter’s hands slid up your ribs slowly, then moved to the front. he cupped your breasts, his fingers finding your nipples through the thin fabric of your top. he squeezed, and a gasp escaped your lips.

the room felt hotter. both of you were breathing heavy, more ragged. you could feel your own heart racing as the pace quickened.

suddenly, he stopped.

the kiss just ended. he pulled his face back, panting, his chest rising and falling. his hands, which had been on your breasts, moved quickly to cover his own face. there was something strange in his expression, almost like he was embarrassed.

you frowned, a confused smile tugging at your lips. “what’s wrong, baby?” you whispered. he just shook his head, tipping it back like he was exhausted. or trying to hide.

you leaned in and started pressing soft little kisses to his cheek, then along his jaw, trailing down to his neck.

when you got closer to his ear, he finally spoke, his voice coming out in a rough, muffled whisper. “I think… I think I just came in my pants”

you froze for a second. your eyes went wide and a genuine laugh slipped out before you could stop it. “please don’t laugh” he begged. poor peter. but you couldn’t help it.

mike wheeler had been watching you all day. I mean, it was impossible not to notice you.

that cheerleading skirt had crept up a few inches past what was allowed, and every time you passed him in school’s hallway, your eyes would meet his with this mix of hatred and something way hotter. you were teasing him. you knew you were teasing him. your eyes practically said you hated him, but they were begging him to fuck you like he’d been doing in secret for the past few weeks. mike spent the whole day restless, hard, unable to focus on anything. all he wanted was finally get a chance to eat your pussy.

now the day was over. the second-floor hallway was empty, the dim lights barely illuminating anything. and there you were, leaning over to get your books out of your locker. your skirt rode up way too high. you didn’t even bother pulling it down, because you knew he was coming up behind you. “are you insane?” his voice came low, right against the back of your neck. mike spun you around, pressing you up against the lockers. “you spent the whole day fucking teasing me” “I have no idea what you’re talking about, freak” “you don’t?” his hand went to your hip, gripping the flesh there hard enough to leave a mark. “this skirt. you wanted me thinking about it all class. or better yet, you wanted me to fuck you in front of everyone, huh?” his hand slid up slowly, slipping under the hem of your top. his cold fingers touched your skin and you arched without meaning to. mike tilted his head, his face way too close. “take your hand off me, wheeler” “why? isn’t this what you wanted?” you didn’t answer, just bit your lip. he pressed his body against yours, his thigh slotting between your legs, and you could feel how hard he was against your stomach. “so stuck-up all day, and now you’ve got nothing to say?” “fuck you” he grinned. his hand moved up to your neck, fingers wrapping around the back of it, and he tugged your hair back in a motion that made you gasp. “that’s it” he pulled again, harder. “make some noise for me” “mike—” he grabbed you by the arm, dragging you down the hallway. your little shoes scraped against the floor as you tried to keep up, your bag slipping from your fingers and scattering papers everywhere. “my homework—” “fuck your homework” he shoved you into the first empty classroom he found. “what the hell are you doing, michael?” he didn’t even answer.

he pushed you against the desk and pressed his body up behind you. “you want attention so bad” his hand ran down your back roughly, gripping your nape to bend you over the desk. “then you’re gonna get it” his other hand hiked up your skirt in one swift motion. you arched instinctively, your hips pushing back against him in a way that was practically begging. “so wet already” his long fingers slid over the thin fabric of your panties. “if they only knew that behind that princess face there’s a slut who cries on my dick” “shut up, mike—” he answered by yanking your panties down roughly. “shut up? you spent hours teasing me. now you’re gonna deal with the consequences.” his long fingers pushed inside hard. you bit your lip to stop yourself from screaming, and he laughed against your neck. “mikeee” you moaned “mike what?” he pulled his fingers out abruptly, and you let out a frustrated whimper. he unzipped his pants with torturous slowness. “you gonna ask nicely?” you tried to turn your head to look at him, but his hand pressed firmly against your nape, keeping your face pinned to the cold desk. his body lined up behind you, and you felt the head of him pressing against your entrance. but he didn’t push in. just kept pressing. “say it. say what you want” “fuck you, michael” he laughed. he was probably loving this, seeing you all pathetic like this, giving in for his dick.

mike thrust in with one rough, deep stroke, and you let out a cry that he muffled with his hand over your mouth. his fingers pressed into your lips while his hips slammed into yours hard enough to shove you into the desk. “can’t you stay quiet, fuck” his hand slipped from your mouth into your hair, pulling, forcing your head back until your whole spine arched into an impossible curve. “look” he nodded toward the dark window, your reflections staring back at you. “you see that? look at you” you saw yourself: messy hair, mouth open, face flushed and wet with tears. so humiliating, and it just turned you on more.

you moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. “what? gonna cum, princess?” his hand slid around to the front, fingers finding your clit, and it was too much. your legs shook and you almost screamed when you came, feeling him come with you.

by the time you managed to turn around, he was already fixing his pants, hair falling into his eyes, face calm like nothing had happened. “wear that skirt again tomorrow.”

helping - peter parker’

peter couldn't stop thinking about you that quiet night in his apartment. his hand was already sliding down, impatient, before he even realized what he was doing. three days. three days since he'd last seen you, and his mind had been pure hell ever since.

he closed his eyes, and there you were. he remembered you from the last time you two were together, riding him, hair loose over your shoulders, wearing that expression only you had: sweet and cruel.

peter's hand wrapped around his dick through the fabric of his boxers, already half-hard, and a low whimper slipped past his lips. he was already way too sensitive. he pushed his boxers down in one go, freeing his erection, and finally curled his fingers around himself.

god. the first squeeze was almost a relief. he dragged his hand from base to tip, eyes still squeezed shut while you took over every single thought.

last time, you were wearing those black jeans. he remembered the sound of the zipper coming down when you shoved him against the living room wall. your low laugh when he tried to say something and his voice came out shaky. the way your hands were already working his belt open. he remembered the heat rushing up his neck, the embarrassment of being taken apart so easily by you. fuck, it was too much.

moans kept slipping out as he sped up, his thumb grazing the sensitive tip on every upstroke. peter tightened his grip, legs falling open without thinking while his dick slid slick with the precome already starting to drip. "yeah…" he mumbled, head sinking into the pillow, eyes rolling back under his lids. he was so close, painfully close. stomach muscles clenching, toes curling into the sheets. "yeah, fuck" he groaned, saying your name loud.

until he heard the door open.

his eyes snapped open, but it was too late. you were standing in the bedroom doorway, keys still in your hand, bag hanging off your shoulder.

peter froze. his hand was still wrapped around his throbbing dick, completely naked, mouth open, eyes wide. "oh my god how did you— what are— sorry, I—" he stammered, uselessly trying to yank the sheet over himself. "I wasn't… I was just… I just—" you laughed. "forget I have a key? I just missed you and wanted to see you." you set the keys down on the table. "looks like I showed up right on time" "I didn't knew you were gonna—" peter tried, still fighting to catch his breath. "if I’d known, I would've—" "would've what? stopped?" you sat down on the edge of the bed. "you were almost there, from what i saw." you were right, and he couldn't lie to you. not even when he wanted to.

you moved closer, your hand landing on his thigh. "you don't have to stop cause I’m here" peter's breath hitched when your hand traveled up to his dick. "actually… I’d rather you didn't" you squeezed firmly, and peter arched off the bed with a moan. "I think you deserve some help. since you were so busy thinking about me" "I… I wasn't—" peter tried, but his voice died when your thumb pressed along his length. "no? then you won't mind if I stop" his fingers grabbed your wrist before he could even think, making you look up. "no. please" you smiled at his plea.

your hand went back to work, and this time there was no hesitation. you knew every inch of him, exactly where to squeeze, where to speed up, where to pause just to be cruel and watch him squirm. your fingers wrapped around the base while your other hand came up to play with the tip, spreading the precome already leaking generously. "look at me, baby" peter obeyed. his eyes met yours while your hand moved up and down. "fuck, only you do this to me" he groaned.

suddenly you leaned down. your mouth wrapped around the head of his dick in one hot, wet move. "ah, shit" his hands flew to your hair, gripping. you sucked him slowly, mouth sinking down a few inches before pulling back, tongue pressing against the underside in a way he felt all the way to his toes. meanwhile, your other hand kept working, twisting at the base, squeezing in perfect time with your mouth.

the contrast between the heat of your mouth and the firm pressure of your fingers was unbearable. "so… so good…" his eyes rolled back as you took him deeper, mouth sliding down as far as you could reach before pulling back. when you looked up at him, mouth still wrapped around him, eyes sparkling with mischief. peter thought he was gonna come right then.

you sped up. mouth and hand working in perfect sync, the tip hitting the back of your throat on every downstroke. "I’m gonna… baby, I’m gonna—“ peter warned, but it wasn't necessary. his breathing, his shaking legs, his clenching stomach, all the signs were already there.

he came, your name falling out of his mouth in a moan while his dick pulsed, and you kept your mouth locked around him, lips sealed, throat working to swallow every drop while he writhed beneath you.

nancy sometimes catches herself thinking about how lucky she is to be dating steve. oh, nooo not because of his stupid hair or because he’s such a great boyfriend. he’s ok. It’s you who catches her attention, steve’s younger sister.

ever since that time nancy slept over at your place (to spend more time with her boyfriend ofc) and ended up bonding with you after finding you awake in the middle of the night, she hasn’t been the same. of course, she couldn’t resist. a while later, weeks, whatever, she kissed you and went down on you in your living room while steve was taking a nap. poor steve, so clueless.

but yeah, he loves your relationship with his girl. to him, it’s such a beautiful friendship. he’s thrilled that his little sister gets along so well with nancy, keeping the peace in the family. sometimes he even jokes about how much time you two spend together, saying you could easily steal his girlfriend. like? honey, it’s happening right under your nose, and you doesn’t even see it.

you could admit you love making a fool out of your brother. like that time the three of you were having a movie night, watching some trashy film only steve wanted to see, but he couldn’t stay awake and passed out. nancy fingered you right there, next to him while he slept on the couch, and you had to hold back your moans so you wouldn’t wake him. or when you had a girls’ night, promising him you’d just do each other’s makeup or whatever. but we all know that’s not how the night ended.

anyway, steve absolutely adooored your friendship. after all, nancy wheeler’s best friends… right?

peter’s the sweetest, most caring boyfriend you could ever ask for. he treats you like a princess and is super mindful of your boundaries, if you know what i mean.

but oh, poor peter, he can’t always hold back that much. when he’s alone, he can’t stop thinking about you, hands down his pants. he fantasizes about your tightness wrapped around his length, about how that shirt you wore the last time you saw him hugged your breasts so well and showed off your nipples. he thinks about slowly pulling that shirt up, revealing your skin, bringing his lips to you, and feeling you get goosebumps before he even touches you.

he thinks about your moan, your scent, the moment he’ll finally be inside you.

I sweaaar, he’s a good guy. cause even if he fantasizes, he’s still the patient, attentive, and careful man you deserve.

check part 1 first!

Mike pedaled through the dark streets of Hawkins, heading home after a D&D session where he’d barely managed to pretend he was paying attention. Lucas and Dustin had talked nonstop the entire night, and every word just made him more stressed.

Lucas casually described every detail of his first time with Max. Dustin went on about Suzie and how their relationship was still going strong even with the distance.

None of the conversation was about him. And that was exactly why it stung.

He was a virgin at the peak of puberty. And the worst part? The only girl he could picture when he closed his eyes was you. His stepsister. The image that wouldn’t go away. Ever since that night, the one where you caught him with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, your name slipping from his lips in a strangled moan, he hadn’t been able to think about anything else. He remembered your warm breath on the back of his neck, the gleam in your eyes, full of curiosity and desire. And if your parents hadn’t come home? What would’ve happened if they hadn’t interrupted?

A stifled groan escaped Mike’s throat as he pedaled. His dick ached inside his jeans, so hard it felt like it might rip through the fabric.

When he finally got home, he dropped his bike on the lawn without a second thought. The front door slammed harder than it should have. He yanked off his leather jacket and hung it up aggressively, as if the jacket itself was to blame for the arousal throbbing through him. He closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against the cool wood of the door and taking a deep breath. But the dirty thoughts refused to take a break.

He headed upstairs, walking down the hallway toward his room. Until he stopped.

The pink door to your room was open.

And you were there.

Lying on your stomach on the bed, your legs swinging lazily in the air, a book open in front of you. You were wearing pajama shorts so short they barely covered the curve of your ass, the thin fabric hugging your soft skin. Your loose tank top had slipped off one shoulder, revealing the delicate line of your collarbone and the start of your breasts’ curve.

Holy shit.

Mike stood in the doorway, his hand clammy. How was he supposed to handle this? The curve of your neck, the soft skin of your exposed thighs, the innocent way your bare feet moved through the air.

You must’ve sensed him there. Because you turned slowly, resting your chin in your palm, and your eyes met his. A smile appeared on your face. A smile so innocent it made him feel guilty. “Mike? You okay? You look exhausted and kinda sad” he leaned against the doorframe, running a hand through his hair in a tired gesture. “Yeah… long night. Lucas and Dustin wouldn’t stop talking and… anyway, I’m just really tense. I need to relax, but I don’t know how” liar. He definitely knew how to relax. His dick was throbbing in his pants just from looking at you. You got up, approaching slowly, unhurried. When you were close enough for him to feel the warmth of your body, you raised your hand and touched his arm. The simple contact made Mike’s skin break out in goosebumps. “Want me to make you some tea? Or should I call mom?” Mike shook his head, his eyes locked on yours. “No. Neither of those is gonna fix it. I need… to relax a different way. A way only you can help me with” he noticed the blush spreading from your neck to your cheeks. You were younger, sure, but you weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what he meant. “Mike…” he stepped closer, slipping a finger under your chin and tilting your face up until your eyes met his. His other hand went to your waist, pulling you against him in a move that left no room for refusal. You felt it through his jeans, the painful stiffness pressing into you, and your eyes widened. “Last time, we didn’t get to finish. But I know you wanted to, huh? I saw it” his voice was a dirty whisper against your mouth. “There are people home, Mike” “Oh, come on. Nancy’s in her room with her headphones on, like always. Our parents are downstairs watching TV. No one’s interrupting this time” his hand tightened on your waist. You bit your lip, your teeth sinking into the soft flesh. “And… what do you want me to…?” “Just do exactly what I tell you. Promise?” you nodded. His fingers intertwined with yours, pulling you down the hall to his room.

“Remember that night?” he asked, his fingers already working at his zipper. You swallowed hard, your eyes fixed on his movements. “Yeah. I do” his jeans came down, and his cock sprang out, hard, the slick tip glistening.

Your eyes widened at the size, at the thick veins running along its length. “You were about to suck me off, weren’t you? You owe me that. And now you’re gonna learn how to do it right” Mike sat down on the edge of the bed, legs spread, his cock pulsing in the air between them. “Come here, princess” you hesitated for a second, your eyes darting from his face to the hard length rising toward you. Then you knelt on the soft carpet between his legs and just stayed there, staring at the prominent veins, at the red tip throbbing just inches from your face. “Grab it. Wrap your hand around it. Slowly” your hand trembled as you touched the base, your small fingers trying to close around his thickness. Mike bit back a groan, his eyes glued to the sight of your hand barely able to encircle his cock. “Yeah… now up and down” you obeyed, your movements clumsy at first, learning the rhythm as your hand slid along his shaft.

Slowly, you gained confidence, and Mike tipped his head back, a groan escaping his throat. Months of frustration seemed to dissolve under the pressure of your fingers. “Your mouth. Use your mouth” he leaned forward, his thumb sliding across your lower lip, forcing it open. “Wrap your tongue around the tip and suck it like it’s a lollipop. Yeah, like that… and look at me while you do it” the sight of your mouth opening, taking in his swollen head, was something Mike knew would haunt him forever. Your pink lips stretched around him, wet and warm, and when your tongue circled the head exactly as he’d told you, his hips jerked involuntarily. “Fuck… Yeah. Now go deeper. Relax your throat” you tried to take more, but you pulled back with a wet gag, tears forming in the corners of your eyes. Saliva dripped from the corner of your mouth, and Mike grabbed your hair firmly, guiding your head back. “Not so easy, is it?” his voice was almost sweet, which contrasted with the grip of his fingers on your scalp. “Go on. Try again” the second attempt was better. You found a rhythm, your hand moving up and down the base while your mouth sucked the tip with an intensity that made Mike’s groans grow louder, more constant. Your warm mouth, your firm hand, and those teary eyes locked on his, with that mix of submission and hunger he never imagined he’d see in you. “Faster. Fuck, just like that” his breath hitched when you moaned against his cock, the vibration running through his length and making his knees tremble. “Stop. Stop” he pulled your hair firmly, making you pull back with a wet, obscene sound. His cock glistened with saliva, pulsing in the air. Mike looked down at you on your knees, your lips swollen and shining, your eyes wet and glassy. “Get up. Lie down on the bed” “Mike, but I didn’t even finish…” “Go” you stood up on shaky legs and lay down on his bed. Mike positioned himself over you, his legs spreading yours in a way that left no doubt about who was in charge.

He kissed you, his mouth hot and demanding, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. His hand slid down, yanking your shorts off roughly, leaving your white panties exposed. They were so wet the dark fabric clung to your skin, and Mike smiled against your neck. “All wet just from sucking your brother’s dick, huh?” hand moved over your panties, feeling the heat, the moisture running down you. You arched your back, a thin moan escaping, and his fingers pressed the fabric against your slit. “Mike, please…” “You want me to fuck you, don’t you?” he pressed his fingers harder, feeling you pulse beneath the fabric. “Tell me” “Yes, Mike, please” he pushed your panties aside, the cool air hitting your exposed, wet cunt. His fingers slid through you with a familiarity they shouldn’t have, finding your throbbing clit, feeling how ready you were.

Mike lined up the head of his cock at your entrance. He pressed just enough to feel the heat spreading over him. The thought that he would be the first one inside you, the first to feel that pressure, that virgin tightness, made whatever little control he had left vanish. “Look at me” you obeyed, your eyes locked on his while tears welled up and your fingers dug into the sheets. He smiled and buried his cock all the way in one thrust. The moan you let out was muffled by his mouth closing over yours, swallowing the sound as he started to move. Finally.

His kiss was dirty, and every thrust pushed you into the mattress. He buried himself to the hilt, his balls slapping against you with a wet sound that echoed through the room. Mike groaned into your mouth, feeling every inch of you pulsing around him. He broke the kiss to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he moved. It wasn’t slow anymore; it was urgent. The bed squeaked beneath you in a rhythm that accelerated with every second. “Look at that. Look how you take me. Like you were made for it” his hand slid down, his fingers finding your clit with surgical precision. He circled the area with exact pressure, syncing with the movement of his hips. You arched your back, a sharp moan escaping, and he nearly laughed. “Mm so sensitive. We’ve barely started and you’re already shaking” the pressure increased along with the speed. The sounds were obscene: wet skin meeting skin, the moans you didn’t recognize as your own, the low, dirty words he whispered as he moved. “I wanna feel you squeeze my cock. Come for me, baby”

And you came. Your body clenched around him in reflexive waves, and Mike buried his face in your neck, his movements losing rhythm, growing erratic. “Fuuuck” he growled against your skin, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. Three uncoordinated thrusts, and he buried himself deep, his body going rigid as he came, a long, muffled groan escaping against your collarbone. You felt it. The hot rush spreading inside you, filling you, dripping, and the filthiness of it, having your brother come inside you, being open and full of him, only made the pleasure last longer.

He stayed there for a moment, his weight on top of you, his breath ragged against your skin. Mike had just come inside his stepsister. He was mentally fucked up.

When he lifted his head, his eyes were glazed, his hair stuck to his forehead. He leaned in for a slow, almost tender kiss that contradicted everything they’d just done. His tongue slid against yours in a rhythm that didn’t rush. “Now” he whispered against your lips, still moving inside you in slow waves, feeling his own come leaking out “now you’re mine”

Deep in his mind, he was certain that whenever he wanted, he’d use you. Like a good older brother, it was his duty to teach you <3

"Miss you, baby. What are you doing tonight?" his voice crackled through the phone. You smiled, sinking back against the pillows, the coiled phone cord twisting around your fingers. "I have to study, Mike. A lot. My physics grade are a disaster, and if I fail the test again, Mrs. Clark’s gonna kill me” Mike let out a frustrated sigh on the other end. "It's Friday night. We always hang out on Fridays” his voice dropped, a deliberate, low whisper that seemed to travel straight down your spine. "I wish I could fuck you senseless. Help you really relax, forget all about that exam or whatever” you bit your lip, feeling the heat flood your cheeks. "You're gonna have to wait, Mike Wheeler. I'm busy tonight." “You'll regret this” he teased, his voice a playful threat, before you said goodnight, promising to talk tomorrow.

You hung up and sighed, trying, and failing, to push the thought of him from your mind. Mission impossible.

Later that night, your room was a small island of light in the darkness. The Cure blared from your tape deck, drowning out the quiet of the house. A half-empty mug of black coffee was your only companion amidst the chaos on your desk: textbooks fanned out, crumpled pages of notebook paper covered in equations, a pencil with a chewed-up end.

You finished another math problem, the tenth of the night, and dropped your head back, your neck muscles screaming in protest. Exhausted, you reached for the mug and took a long, bitter gulp, wincing. Your eyes drifted, searching for any distraction. They landed on it: Mike's blue sweatshirt, slung carelessly over the back of your chair. He'd left it last week, after a movie marathon that had turned into something more. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed the soft fabric, bringing it to your face. You inhaled deeply. It smelled like him. That familiar mix of cheap soap, Mrs. Wheeler's floral laundry detergent, and the faint, unmistakable hint of the cologne he wore just to impress you. A stupid, giddy smile spread across your face. You hugged the sweatshirt to your chest, burying your nose in it.

And then, his image flooded your mind. His voice on the phone, the dirty promise in his whisper. You remembered the way he looked at you, his hands on your waist, his lips on your skin. You remembered the last time he'd been right here, in this very bed, the things he'd done to you, the way he'd touched you.

Your body responded before your mind could catch up. A sharp, sweet heat bloomed between your legs, and you pressed your thighs together instinctively. Still clutching his sweatshirt in one hand, you brought it back to your nose, breathing him in, while your other hand, trembling slightly, slid down your own leg. You were wearing only an oversized t-shirt and panties, your study uniform.

Your hand crept higher, under the hem of your shirt, finding the warmth of your own skin. Your eyes fluttered shut, and the picture in your head was him. Mike. His hands. His lips. His longe nose. You imagined what he wanted to do, how he said he'd fuck you. Your fingers found the right spot, sensitive even through the cotton of your panties, and you bit your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. The smell of his sweatshirt, the loud music, the memory of him. Too much. You slipped your hand past the waistband of your panties, your fingers finding you slick and ready. A low moan slipped out, muffled by the fabric of his sweatshirt pressed to your face.

A sudden, sharp click of the doorknob turning made your heart lurch into your throat.

The door swung open.

And there he was.

Mike Wheeler stood in the doorway, a denim jacket over his striped shirt. His dark eyes took in the scene in a heartbeat: the blaring music, the messy desk, the coffee mug. And you. Sitting in his chair, wearing only a shirt, your hair a mess, your face flushed, and most incriminating of all, your bare legs, which you were frantically trying to cover with his sweatshirt, the one you'd been holding. “What are you doing here?" you managed, shame burning your cheeks. Your other hand, the one that had been, seconds ago, exactly where it shouldn't have been, was frozen in place, hidden beneath the fabric. Mike stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. "Your mom let me in. Told her I was gonna help you study” he walked towards you slowly, a dangerous smile starting to curl at the corner of his lips. "Shouldn't you be... studying, darling?" he stopped right in front of you.

In one swift move, he pushed aside the sweatshirt you were holding like a shield. Your legs were completely exposed. And with them, the unmistakable sight of your panties, pulled to the side, revealing everything. Mike's eyebrow arched. A wide, mocking grin spread across his face. "Look at you” he knelt in front of you, his long, cool fingers wrapping around your knees, gently pushing them apart. "Got so worked up you had to take care of it yourself, huh? Thinking about me?" his big, dark eyes were fixed on you, on the evidence of your desire. You tried to close your legs, shame and arousal warring inside you. "Mike... I'm sorry... I was studying, I just..." your voice trailed off into nothing. Mike laughed, a low and wicked sound. "Sorry? No, no. You don't deserve it. You lied to me. And worse, you were touching yourself when you could have been with me” “I..." you tried again, but he was faster. “Shut up. Keep studying” “What?" “You heard me. Pick up your pencil, do your fucking physics stuff” he moved closer, his face now inches from your core. His warm breath ghosted over you, making you shudder. "I'll stay right here. Helping you... relax” you obeyed, more out of shock than anything. With shaking hands, you grabbed the pencil and tried to focus on the paper in front of you. It was a long equation, a mess of parentheses. You could barely make out the numbers. Then you felt his mouth. Mike tilted his head and his tongue slid through your slick folds, a slow, deliberate stroke. You gasped, the pencil nearly falling from your fingers. He started to suck, his lips and tongue working in a torturous, unhurried rhythm. At the same time, one finger slid inside you, then two, moving at the same maddening pace. "Keep studying” he whispered against you, increasing the pressure of his fingers the moment your gaze strayed from the page. You tried. God, you tried. You tried to form the numbers, but they were just a blur. The hand holding the pencil trembled so badly your lines came out jagged and wild. All you could feel was Mike's hot mouth on you, teasing, his fingers opening you, filling you. "Mike..." you whimpered, your eyes stinging. Frustration and pleasure tangled inside you. You tried to write a number, but the pencil slipped from your sweaty fingers, clattering to the floor. Your head fell back, your mouth falling open in a long, keening moan as the orgasm finally, finally crashed over you, pulled from you by his relentless mouth and fingers. You shuddered, gasping, clinging to the arms of the chair. Mike pulled back, a satisfied smirk on his face. His fingers were glistening. He brought them to your face, smearing the wetness across your cheek, your nose, like you were nothing but a napkin. You were dizzy, weak, your breath slowly returning.

Mike pulled you from the chair, lowering you onto the soft rug on the floor. The floorboards creaked beneath you. He hovered over you for a moment, just looking. His dark eyes traveled the length of your body. "Now” he murmured, his voice low and serious. "You're gonna learn not to lie to me” you lay on the floor as he positioned himself between your legs, his eyes roaming your naked body, from your heaving chest to your open thighs, still trembling from the orgasm he'd just pulled from you with his mouth.

He knelt, calmly unzipping his jeans and freeing his hard length. But he didn't move forward. He just held the base, sliding the tip through your slick folds, from your entrance up to your clit, coating himself in your heat without pushing inside. You gasped, your hips lifting involuntarily, chasing the contact. “Mike... please..." you breathed. He tilted his head, a slow, wicked smile playing on his lips. "Please what?" “Fuck me” he pressed the tip against your entrance, just enough to make you hold your breath. Then he pulled back, sliding his cock through your wet slit in another slow, teasing stroke. "The one who was so busy, who couldn't see me... now she's begging me to stick my cock in her? You really are such a slut” he continued the torture, the head of his cock sliding, pressing lightly against your clit, slipping through your folds, but never, ever pushing inside. Your body was on fire, every nerve ending screaming for what he refused to give. "Mike... please... I need-“ your voice broke into a sob. “What do you need? Need me to fuck this pretty little pussy? Fuck you until you forget all about that physics test?" “Yes, yes, please... I need you inside me” you begged, tears pricking your eyes. He laughed, a low, malevolent sound. "So desperate for my dick” and then, finally, he thrust inside you, tearing a loud cry from your throat. It was a sound of pure relief and pleasure, echoing in the room. “Shut the fuck up” he growled, his hand tangling in your hair, yanking your head back. He thrust again, harder. You bit your lip hard, tears spilling over, but your body responded in a way you couldn't control. His hand in your hair, the cruel words, his cock buried deep, it only made you wetter, more aroused.

Mike started fucking you hard. Each thrust was deep, brutal, his body slamming into yours at a relentless pace that shook the floor. The hand in your hair didn't loosen, keeping your head still, forcing your eyes to meet his as he took you. "Look at me. I want you to see who's fucking you” you tried to hold back your moans, but they slipped out between your teeth, small, desperate sounds he heard perfectly. "My little slut. So hot, so wet, begging for it. Look at you, spread out on the floor like a whore, letting me do whatever I want” you were lost, reduced to nothing but the feeling of him filling you, his voice degrading you. "Mikeee..." you whimpered. He pulled your hair harder, arching your back. "I told you to shut up. Don't you learn? Or do you just like it, huh? You like being treated like this?" you managed a weak nod, pinned as you were. "Of course you do, you sick little whore”the moans you tried to stifle turned into high, desperate cries, the pleasure building, coiling tight inside you. Mike felt it. He felt you clench around him, felt your body tremble. "That's it. Take my cock, that's what you're made for”

And you came, a scream tearing from your throat, your whole body convulsing as he kept fucking you, hard and deep, riding you through it. Mike drove into you a few more times, his body tensing, and then he came with a muffled groan, buried deep inside you, his weight pressing you into the floor.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of ragged breathing, his body heavy on yours. Then he moved. He pulled out, leaving you with a wet, aching emptiness. He stood up, straightening his clothes with a calmness that was a violent contrast to what they'd just done.

You lay on the floor, dizzy, weak, legs splayed, body aching, breath hitching in small sobs. You looked up at him, and he was watching you from above, his dark eyes scanning you one last time.

Mike adjusted his belt, ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment, just smiled. "I don't think you'll be forgetting this lesson anytime soon” he said, and leaned down to place a soft kiss on your forehead.

He knows you like to be used by him.

Late afternoons in Hawkins were usually busy, but not that thursday. Family Video sat in a strange kind of silence, the kind that made every minute crawl. As if it weren’t enough that Steve had called last minute, claiming a cold was keeping him from coming in.

You were on your knees near the horror section, tidying up the mess some careless customer had left on the lower shelves. You arranged the VHS boxes distractedly, lining up A Nightmare on Elm Street next to Friday the 13th.

Robin leaned against the counter, chewing gum and pretending to study the inventory sheet. But her blue eyes weren’t on the clipboard. They were on you.

In that tight uniform, you looked like a walking distraction. And right then, bent over the way you were, adjusting the tapes on the bottom shelf, well, the view was downright irresistible. Robin bit her lip. The curve of your backside looked impossibly perfect in that position, the fabric of your pants stretched in a way that should probably be illegal. She set the clipboard down and, on impulse, moved toward you, her gaze fixed on the shape of your body.

You felt her hands grip your hips first, then slide down to cup your butt. “Robin!” you whispered, gasping as her body pressed against your back. Her chin came to rest on your shoulder, lips already brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. “What are you doing?” “Enjoying the view” her voice came out low, muffled against your skin. She squeezed harder, fingers sinking into the soft flesh through the fabric. “You can’t wear these pants, bend over like that, and expect me not to notice” a shiver rolled down your spine. The wet kiss she pressed behind your ear nearly made your eyes flutter shut. “Robin, we’re working” “There’s no one here, baby. Harrington’s home sick, and apparently everyone in Hawkins decided today that reading’s more fun than renting a movie. It’s just you and me” “What if someone walks in?” “We’ll hear the bell. Relax” Robin took your hand and tugged you toward the back of the store. She pushed open the stockroom door, a cramped little space that smelled like cardboard and new plastic, and guided you inside, quick but careful.

She pressed you against a sturdy stack of boxes, her lips finding yours in a hungry, lingering kiss. Her clever hands went straight to your waistband, undoing your button and zipper with practiced ease. “Robin…” you breathed against her mouth, fingers gripping her shoulders. “Shh. Let me take care of it” she sank to her knees.

The stockroom air felt cool against your warm skin as she pulled your pants and underwear down to your knees. A moan slipped out, too loud, and you clamped a hand over your mouth. Your head fell back, knocking softly against the cardboard behind you. Robin was good at this. Really good. Her tongue found every right spot, moving in a rhythm that alternated between teasing flicks and firm pressure that made your legs tremble.

Ding-dong, the front doorbell sliced through the haze. “Robin! Robin… customer. Stop” Robin didn’t stop.

If anything, her tongue grew more insistent. More devastatingly skilled.

“Robin, we need to-“ she pulled back for half a second, voice husky and warm against your thigh. “They can wait” then her mouth was on you again, and a fresh wave of pleasure crashed so hard you bit your lip until it nearly bled just to keep quiet.

The bell rang again.

“Robin, for God’s sake… they’re going to hear” “Then be quieter. Or scream louder, I don’t care. Just don’t stop me. I wanna hear you”

The orgasm hit you fast and fierce, stealing your breath and tearing a muffled cry from your throat that you tried to smother against your wrist. Robin didn’t let up, working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you had to gently push her head away, oversensitive and trembling.

She rose to her feet, lips curved into a satisfied smile, blue eyes gleaming with pride. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and let out a low, pleased laugh. “Okay” she said, straightening her shirt while you still struggled to pull yourself together. “Now we can see what the customer wants”

check part 2!

Friday nights at the Wheeler house were always the same. Your dad and stepmom, Karen, were out for dinner. Nancy was at the movies with Jonathan, and Holly was sleeping over at a friend’s place.

That left just you and your stepbrother, Mike.

You got home later than planned after staying at a friend’s to study for your bio exam. The front door was unlocked, your dad never remembered to lock it, something Karen was always on him about. The TV was on, but no one was watching. The kitchen light was still on.

Mike wasn’t in his room.

You were heading upstairs when you heard it.

A low, muffled groan coming from the bathroom downstairs.

Your heart stopped. Was he crying? Sick? You crept closer, worried, hand raised to knock and check on him. The door was slightly ajar, just a couple of inches, but enough.

Mike was standing with his back to the wall, one hand braced on the sink. His shirt and pants were in a heap on the floor. He was in just his boxers, riding low on his hips.

And his right hand... was busy.

You should've walked away. Should've knocked. Something. But you froze.

He groaned again. Louder. Then he said your name. “Oh, fuuck, yeah…” his whole body tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, head tipped back, lips parted. The mirror showed his reflection: face flushed, skin slick with sweat, caught somewhere between concentration and bliss. His free hand gripped the sink edge, knuckles white. “…I wish you knew what you do to me… every single day…” he arched into his hand, pressing his forehead to the mirror, breath ragged. “I wish- ugh, I want you so bad…” he breathed your name again, softer this time.

He whispered it again as he started murmuring things no stepbrother should ever say about his sister.

He bit his lip, hand moving faster. “Come on, faster…” his whole body shuddered, a long, broken groan escaping as he came undone, spilling into his own hand, chest heaving.

You should've felt disgust. Should've been angry. Should've run and told Karen. But you didn’t move.

His body trembled through the last waves, a strangled moan muffled against his arm, fingers still gripping the sink, back arched, breath hot and uneven.

And then he opened his eyes and saw you in the reflection. The color drained from his face. He spun so fast he almost slipped, yanking at his boxers, fumbling to cover himself, eyes blown wide with sheer terror. “Oh, shit—shit, shit. No, wait, I swear I…” his voice cracked. He was pale as a ghost, shaking, looked like he might throw up. “How long were you—what did you…” you didn’t answer. Couldn’t. You just stood there, rooted to the spot, heart slamming against your ribs, a strange heat coiling low in your stomach, your mind screaming this is wrong, this is so wrong while another part whispered why didn't I just leave?

Mike swallowed hard. His eyes glistened. “Please don’t tell anyone… I swear I never meant… I know it's wrong, I know, but every time you walk past me…” his voice broke. He dragged a hand down his face, sank onto the toilet lid, head in his hands, shoulders shaking. “Say something. Please, just say something” “Shut up, Mike” you said quietly, pushing the door closed behind you. “Are you gonna tell?” his voice came out so small it hurt. You didn’t answer. You just stepped closer. “I said shut up” you’d never spoken to him like that before.

Mike blinked, confused. Before he could react, you placed a hand on his chest. Felt his heart hammering, the heat of his skin, the trembling. He swallowed hard. “We cannot…” “Didn’t you just get off thinking about me?” your other hand came up to touch his face. His dark eyes flickered from your nose to your mouth, then back up. His breathing went uneven again. You grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him.

The second your lips met, Mike let out a low moan and melted into you, his whole body giving in. He kissed you back like a man starved, like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

His hands found the hem of your shirt and tugged it up. You raised your arms, let him pull it off. It hit the floor next to his clothes.

Mike pulled back for just a second to look at you. You stood there in just your bra, breathing hard, eyes hazy. He ran a hand over his face, dazed. “You’re so hot” before you could respond, he pulled you in again, kissing you so fiercely you nearly stumbled. “I need to fuck you” he murmured against your lips.

His mouth trailed down, your shoulder, your collarbone, slow and warm, until he reached your chest. In one smooth move, he slid the straps of your bra down, baring you. The second his lips closed around your nipple, you gasped, arching into him, fingers tangling in his dark hair.

Mike groaned against your skin, one hand gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel how hard he was through his boxers, there was no hiding it now. The heat between your legs grew unbearable.

Your hand slid down his stomach and hooked into the waistband of his boxers. Mike helped, shoving them down, eyes locked on you the whole time.

Now it was your turn.

Your fingers found the button of your jeans. He watched, transfixed. You unfastened them, slid the zipper down, and pushed jeans and panties off in one motion. Then you stood there, completely bare in front of him. “Jesus…” he breathed.

You stepped into him, skin against skin.

His hands roamed your back, your ass, your thighs, like he was memorizing you. Your arms looped around his neck, fingers threading through his hair.

He pressed you against the cool bathroom wall, and you gasped at the contrast. His mouth found your neck, biting softly, sucking, leaving marks like he needed to claim you.

Then you heard footsteps coming downstairs.

Mike rested his forehead against yours, voice barely a whisper: “Be quiet” you bit your lip and nodded.

Nothing would stop him from fucking his little sister that night.

relieving - mike wheeler x harringtonreader’

The faint creak of the window sliding open was the only announcement Mike made as he slipped inside. His worn sneakers hit the plush pink carpet without so much as a by-your-leave.

You were curled up in bed, headphones on, lost in your own little world. The sudden weight on the mattress made you jolt so hard you nearly tumbled onto the floor. Yanking off your headphones, you hissed “Fuck, Michael! My brother's literally home, you idiot!"

He dropped his backpack with a dull thud and collapsed onto the bed beside you, exhaustion radiating off him. His dark eyes swept over you before he even spoke. "I know. I just had the wooorst day. I just... I needed to bury my face between your legs and pretend the rest of the world doesn't exist." “If Steve finds out you climbed through his sister's window to…" he cut you off by pulling you flush against him, inhaling deeply as he buried his face in your strawberry-scented hair, his strong nose trailing along the curve of your neck. "He won't. Just keep your voice down and no one's listening. We've done this before." you rolled your eyes, but your body was already softening into his. His fingers found the hem of your pink nightgown, sliding underneath while his other hand hooked into the waistband of your sleep shorts and tugged sharply. A soft sound escaped you, swallowed by the sudden press of his mouth.

Mike guided you onto your back, settling over you with a familiarity that bordered on possessive. And honestly, he kind of had that right. Every inch of you already knew every inch of him. "Chemistry class sucks” he murmured against your throat, mouthing at your skin while his fingers nudged your panties aside. "Sat there the whole time, couldn't think about anything but this. Got so hard just imagining fucking you." “Mike…” you gasped, nails pressing into his shoulders. He dragged a finger through your slick heat, slow and deliberate. "Fuck, you're already soaked. Were you waiting for me, baby? You knew I was coming?" before you could form a reply, he pushed inside you in one deep, fluid stroke. A broken sound punched from both of you. You could feel every inch of him, stretching you, filling you completely. "Quiet. Unless you want your brother finding out what the slut his little sister is”

You bit down on the sheet, muffling the sounds that wanted to spill out as the pink room seemed to sway around you. The stuffed animals on your shelf stared blankly ahead, silent witnesses. You were already gone. Legs locking around his waist, hips rising to meet his, everything dissolving into sensation. He moved inside you like he knew your body better than his own. Because he did. “Turn over” his hands found your hips, guiding you onto your stomach. You buried your face in the pillow, and he slid into you from behind without missing a beat. The angle dragged a louder moan from both of you. His palm pressed gently against the back of your neck, not hard, just present. "Mhm, now be good. Bury that pretty face in the pillow and let me take care of you. Let me fill you up."

Your legs were already trembling, tangled in the sheets. Your fingers gripped the pillowcase like a lifeline. Every sound you made was harder to hold back. "Fuck, Mike… I'm so close." “I know, baby” he leaned forward, chest pressing against your sweaty back, and your eyes caught his in the reflection of your vanity mirror. Watching him move behind you, watching himself take you apart, it was too much. "Pleaseee” you whispered, unsure if you were begging for more, for release, for him to just never stop. “Please what? Wanna come?" his voice was rough, breath hot against your ear. "Yes… please, Mike” “Come for me, love."

You bit down so hard on the pillow you probably left marks. Your whole body seized, waves of pleasure crashing through you as he kept thrusting, drawing it out, wringing every last tremor from you until your limbs gave out entirely. There was nothing left but him, still moving inside you, still filling you, still holding you together.

When he finally found his own release, buried deep, the silence rushed back in. Just ragged breathing, the occasional creak of the mattress, and the distant murmur of the TV downstairs. That stupid show Steve pretended he didn't watch.

Mike collapsed beside you, one arm slung over his eyes, chest still heaving. You lay there for a long moment, face down, feeling the warmth of him slip down your thigh, trying to remember how to breathe. Finally, you turned your head toward him. "You're such an asshole” you rasped. The corner of his mouth twitched. The shitty day was officially forgotten. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. "You were so good. So quiet. Love you."

"Love you too, Mike."

He pulled you into his chest, and for a while, nothing else existed. Just you, and him, and the certainty that tomorrow night, he'd be climbing through that window again.

You moaned his name louder and louder, hoping he'd finally pull his cock out and really fuck you. But Harrington, as always, didn't move. He stayed focused, eating your pussy like a starving man.

Head thrown back, back arched, your hips started grinding against his face faster, chasing that high. Your thighs clamped around his head, squeezing tight, just the way he liked it.

The moment your legs started trembling, you both knew you were about to cum. And when you did, it hit hard. You moaned and screamed his name like a whore, crying out as you came undone on his tongue.

Steve let out a low chuckle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning in to press soft, teasing kisses along your neck. "You taste so good” he whispered against her ear. Your hands slid down to his erection, gripping him through the jeans. "I need you inside me” he smiled at the desperation in your voice. "So greedy, darling” he murmured, slowly unzipping his pants and finally freeing his hard cock from his boxers. It sprang out, heavy and hot, the tip already slick with need. "Eager, aren't you?" he smirked, positioning himself between her legs. Steve leaned in for a deep, lingering kiss, making sure you tasted yourself on his lips. "You'll get what you want. But my way, on my time, ok?”

You held your breath as the warm, slick tip slid along your thigh. His hand guided himself, and finally, the head brushed against your entrance. You gasped, fingers gripping the sheets. But he didn't push in. He just teased, sliding the tip up and down, running it over your clit. "Steve, please..." "Please what?" he tilted his head, playing dumb, all while keeping up that slow, torturous rhythm. The wet tip dragged along your slit, teasing, promising, almost cruel. "Use your words, darling. I wanna hear you." "Fuck me. Please, fuck me. I need you inside me."

He bit his lower lip, watching where his body teased yours. One hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider as the tip finally found your entrance again. He shut his eyes and let out a deep groan, pushing in slowly. "Shit, you're so tight” he breathed, and you moaned, your hips lifting, trying to take him deeper. You felt every inch as your body opened for him. His lips brushed your ear while he buried himself to the hilt. "So good. You were made for me." You could feel every pulse inside you, your body stretching to fit him. "Look at me” you obeyed. His hands roamed your body, one moving up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your already-hard nipple. "Faster” you begged, hips moving to match his rhythm.

The pace picked up. The headboard started knocking against the wall in a desperate, urgent beat. His free hand slid down to your clit, circling in time with his thrusts. "Cum with me, baby. I wanna feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up."

You came undone, nails digging into his back, your whole body trembling. Steve followed right behind, a hoarse groan escaping as he buried himself deep one last time. You stayed tangled together, breathless and sweaty.

He moved first, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of your nose before lying beside you and pulling you into his chest.

The only sounds were your breathing and the warmth of your bodies pressed together.

check part I first!

Despite the long moment you'd spent just staring at Nancy, you didn't hesitate when she made her "offer." She smiled at you, maybe amused by your dumbstruck curiosity, and then reached behind her back, unhooking her bra and letting it fall away onto the bed.

Oh God. They were perfect. Small, delicate, but absolutely beautiful.

"Can I?" you brought your hands toward her chest, and she nodded. Permission granted, you let yourself explore, palms grazing over her breasts with something like reverence. She seemed to love the wonder in your touch, so you leaned in, pressing small kisses to her skin before gently taking one into your mouth.

"Mmm, yeah." the sound she made, soft e breathy, was all it took. You were lost, completely consumed by the need to give her more. "You like that?" she nodded, and you smiled against her skin.

You laid her back on the bed, climbing over her, hovering just close enough to feel the heat radiating off her body. "You're so beautiful." it was the only thought left in your head.

You trailed open-mouthed kisses from her chest to her arms, grazing her delicate fingers with your lips while you drank in the sight of her goddess-like, glowing. She opened her eyes to look at you and giggled softly at the ticklish brush of your mouth against her skin. Her curly hair, now even messier than before, fell across her face. You swept the strands aside and kissed the exposed length of her neck, working your way down a path you'd only ever dreamed of, until you reached the waistband of her skirt. “I need this off."

"What are you waiting for?" she whispered, and you laughed.

This was it. Your dreams were about to become reality. From your bedroom window, you'd only ever seen Nancy from the waist up. You'd imagined her hips a hundred times, but never like this, never close enough to touch. Now you were face-to-face with her panties, so near you could already taste how wet she was through the fabric.

Nancy's hands found your hair instantly, gripping tight, guiding you down. "I want to feel your tongue. Please, suck me." the desperation in her voice almost made you feel sorry for her, almost. But mostly, it just drove you wild.

If you'd made it this far, there was no turning back. You'd be here all night if you had to, door be damned. But not yet. First, you wanted to hear her beg.

She rolled her hips against your mouth, chasing friction, trapping your head between her thighs. You could feel her trembling, edging closer, moaning and gripping your hair harder with every passing second. Finally, you stopped teasing, pulled her panties aside and let your tongue slide through every slick, soaked fold. “Fuck, you're so wet for me, Nancy." you buried yourself in her like you'd been wandering the desert, and she was water.

Her eyes squeezed shut, brow furrowed like she was in pain. "Yes… please…” she gasped your name, biting her lip to keep quiet. The thought of her screaming it, of the whole house hearing, only made you work harder. You sucked her throbbing clit deeper, faster. “It feels so good. Ah, yn!" her hand flew to her mouth. You pulled back just enough to smirk. "Shh. You don't want your mom to find out the slut you are, do you?" you laughed. Not because it was funny, but because you knew those words would undo her.

You slid two fingers inside her, slow at first, then faster, matching the rhythm of your tongue. Her back arched. "You feel so good, Nancy." you circled her clit with your lips while your fingers pumped deeper, quicker. She pushed sweat-damp hair from her forehead, legs shaking as she hurtled toward the edge. “Shit! I'm gonna come, Y/N." she fisted the sheets, voice wrecked. “Come for me, baby. Cover all my face." you murmured softly.

Her hips bucked. She writhed through it, moaning your name into the pillow as her whole body tensed and released. You felt her clench around your fingers, and slowly, you pulled out, bringing them to your lips to taste her as she gasped beneath you.

“Nancy!" Karen's voice cut through from downstairs. "It's late, sweetheart. You'll see each other another day."

Absolutely, Mrs. Wheeler. Absolutely.

check part II!

Being neighbors with the Wheelers was never easy for you, especially since your window sat so close to Nancy Wheeler's, the eldest daughter. Some days, Ted Wheeler would insist on practicing his golf swing in his backyard, and without fail, that little white ball would end up in your garden. Other times, it was Mike, the middle brother, hosting his friends for a D&D night, their shouting so loud you could barely hear your own headphones.

But the hardest moments were always the ones involving Nancy.

Like when she'd forget to draw her curtains while changing, treating you to an accidental display of every curve her body had to offer. Or when she'd step out of the shower, hair still damp, and let the towel slip, just enough for you to catch a front-row view from your bedroom. She never knew. Never even suspected that you were savoring those glimpses.

She never imagined you envied the very sheets that wrapped around her each night. Never dreamed that before bed, you'd touch yourself to the thought of your sweet neighbor. Legs bare, open, waiting, right there, just a window away.

She never even dreamed.

Things only got worse when your mom became friends with Karen Wheeler. One evening, Karen invited your family over for dinner at the Wheeler’s. You spent the meal mostly silent, and so did Nancy and Mike, for that matter. You couldn't help but think that the hostess’s daughter looked even more appetizing than anything on the table. Those pink sweaters she always wore, even when Hawkins wasn't all that cold, looked impossibly cute on her.

You were completely gone for her, and this new closeness between your mothers only made it harder.

And then it got even worse when Karen asked Nancy to show you her room. Poor Karen Wheeler, had no idea you were already intimately familiar with that cozy space. The one you had a clear view of from your window every single night. Still, you played your part, feigning polite interest as Nancy showed off the collection of her childhood plushies, all scattered across her bed like you'd never seen them before. "And this is my book collection. Oh, and some records too..." she said, like it was no big deal, but you were utterly captivated.

"I love Billy Idol. Didn't expect you to be a rock fan too, Nancy Wheeler."

"Of course I am. Even if my whole world looks like it's dipped in pink."

You just smiled, trying to decide your next move. But then, maybe you got a little too distracted by her skirt. It wasn't exactly too short, but it was just enough to fuel your overactive (filthy) imagination. Your gaze dropped, tracing the length of her leg all the way down to her little shoes.

"Liked my shoes?" she asked, a small smile playing on her lips. Of course she noticed you checking her out, and she didn't seem to mind. Which was insane, because you never imagined you'd be standing in her room, let alone that she'd be perfectly fine with another girl openly admiring her.

"Yeah, yeah, they're really... cute.” you managed, fumbling for words while she bit her lip, watching you expectantly.

You wanted to lay her down right there on the floor. Peel off those shoes, and anything else keeping you from seeing more of her. Kiss her. Touch her. Make her scream loud enough for the whole house, the whole neighborhood, to hear.

"I have more like them, look." she crossed to a small cabinet filled with shoes, showing you each pair, pointing out details. You smiled, nodding along, pretending to care about footwear. Then she stepped closer. "Wanna see other stuff?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. I've shown you my records, my books, even my shoes. What else do you want to see?" her voice had gone soft, honeyed. Were you losing your mind, or was Nancy Wheeler actually flirting with you? No. No way.

"Well..." You were more flustered than you'd ever been. "I like your sweater. Wanna show me your collection?"

She laughed. Actually laughed, like you'd cracked a joke. "You're so silly sometimes."

"What? What does that mean?"

"Was it my sweater you liked?" she murmured, voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Or how it looks on me?”

“I think…” you drag your gaze from her lips to her eyes. “How it looks really good on you.”

She tugs the sweater up slowly, until she’s just in her bra. “Since you like it so much, keep it.” she holds it out like it’s nothing.

“What are you doing?”

“Stop staring at my bra and close the fucking door.”

You don’t argue. How could you? You push the door until it clicks shut, muffling the noise from downstairs.

“If you like my sweaters that much, I want you to have this one. So you can always remember how I smell.” her words hit you square in the chest. You never thought you’d hear something like that from her. It’s strange, new, but you’re not about to waste the chance to finally let out what you’ve been holding onto for so long.

You sit on the bed, facing her. “Nancy. Nancy, you’re so beautiful.” your eyes linger on her breasts, still hidden behind that stupid bra. Your hands find her waist, careful, like she’s made of glass, then slide up until you’re cupping one of them gently. You can’t speak. You’re completely lost in her.

Suddenly, you hear your mother's voice laughing loudly with Karen and you recoil a bit, in fright.

“Relax. They’re downstairs. It’ll take them a while to catch up on all the gossip.” you smile at her comment, and let your hands move again.

You weren't completely inexperienced in sexuality. You’ve given a blowjob once, to some guy you had a thing (it was the worst experience you'd ever had), but nothing beyond that. You've never seen anything like this before. Nothing so beautiful. Nothing so feminine, and that's what gets you most.

“Do you wanna see?” you hesitate at her question but you how could you refuse such a good offer?