IDK IF YOU TAKE REQUESTS BUT IF YOU DO, CAN YOU DO A COCKWARMING FIC WITH EITHER FINN WOLFHARD OR AGED UP! MIKE WHEELER???
mean, mike wheeler
aged up!mike wheeler x reader
warnings: smut, cockwarming, mean!mike, short fic
mike wheeler was mean. he pushed you in the halls, shot you dirty looks in class and yanked on your hair whenever he got the chance. you didn’t understand why, seeing as you two had been the best of friends until that starcourt mall fire three years ago and he went cold on you. like it was your fault his hangout spot burned to the ground and his girlfriend and best friend moved away. it was so long ago for fucks sake.
he was an unnecessarily rude person and when you complained all you got was the same old same old “boys will be boys” and if that was really true then you were in deep shit. your attempts at rekindling your once happy friendship had been in vain until two hours ago the lanky boy suggested you come over to his house after school to “talk.” but there was not a lot of that going on.
“stop fucking moving.” mike said in a flat tone and he flipped through channels on the tv. you two were sat on the couch in his basement- well he was on the couch and you were on his cock with a blanket over your bodies to cover the fact that your pussy was drooling all over him.
“i’m trying not to-”
“you’re not trying hard enough.” he said. mike placed a hand on your back and shifted on purpose making you let out a loud moan. he filled you up so good it was almost impossible to think, but you had to keep in mind his promise. he said that if you stayed still he would be your friend again but you two had been at this cruel game an hour and all the teasing shifts he gave from under were killing you. mike said that if you really wanted to be friends you would do anything, that included keeping his dick warm while he watched tv.
your skirt was bunch around your hips and your panties moved to the side, he knew how badly you wanted it. how badly you wanted to bounce on his cock, kiss his lips and grip his hair but he was just too mean to let you have it.
he stopped flipping through channels when a loud star wars movie came on. mike looked up at the basement door, noting that it was still closed before looking back at you.
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Rockstar billy feeling himself on stage, he'd definantly be on vocals singing it out on stage with everyone watching him. Steve would be watching from the back cheering his boyfreind on.
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Summary: At Hawkins lab, sometimes even the nurses can get injured. And when you do, you’re lucky enough to have the one and only Peter Ballard to patch you up.
Warnings: mentions of blood and injury
Words: 1.4K
The experiments at Hawkins lab were never dangerous, at least not to the nurses who took care of the children. However, this tidbit of information wasn’t entirely comforting, as the nurses could never really live their lives without fear of getting injured at their workplace. Sometimes accidents happened.
The accidents seemed to happen quite a bit to the one and only Peter Ballard. The blond man always seemed to end up in your small office, seeking medical attention for small cuts and scrapes, or headaches and small pains. You always gave him what he needed – whether it be a bandage or a panadol – but you enjoyed when he visited. You couldn’t deny, Peter was a gorgeous human, and you’d grown quite fond of him – his hair looked silky and soft enough to run your fingers through, and his striking blue eyes were captivating.
The two of you had become friends, although sometimes it felt like maybe there could be more. The long glances and lingering touches supported your feelings, but you always ended up convincing yourself it was one-sided. Besides, the two of you took your duties seriously, so the chances of anything happening between the two of you were slim.
But even if you took your duties seriously, you couldn’t help but smile at him across the room. His hands were behind his back, but he moved slightly so that you could see his subtle wave.
All of the children stood in the plain, white room, standing along the walls. One of the children – Eleven – was sitting in front of a ring of lights, attempting to light them up and move the light around in a circle. She was struggling, and you watched with a slight frown. You liked Eleven – she was quiet, but always kind.
Eleven whimpered as she tried to light up the ring. She turned to face you, fear and desperation evident in her gaze. You gave her an encouraging smile and a nod, and you hoped she remembered the words you’d spoken to her in the rainbow room – “I believe in you.”
She sniffled slightly, before turning her attention back to the ring. You crossed your fingers behind your back, praying for the girl. While you weren’t privy to all of the results of the experiments, you knew that Eleven harboured the most power, she just didn’t know how to control and use it. But you were sure she would learn.
Slowly, a single light on the ring lit up. A broad smile grew on your face, and you looked up at Peter. He was watching you and smiling slightly, his eyes showing something that looked suspiciously like adoration. When he noticed your gaze, his smile turned more shy, and he looked away bashfully.
“You have to make the light move, silly,” one of the other children – Two – said to Eleven.
Her face fell as the other children began to laugh, and you turned to focus your attention on Two.
“Hush,” you scolded. “Let her concentrate.”
While you were a kind nurse, the children knew when to listen to you, and to respect you. Two fell silent, the other children following suit. You gave Eleven another encouraging nod, and she focused her attention on the ring. After a moment, she held out her hand and screamed, the lights on the ring blaring bright, bright enough to blind everyone in the room.
You closed your eyes and glass shattered. You felt it slice at your skin and you cried out, falling back, your spine slamming against the white walls. Something wet and warm slid down your cheek. There was a hurrying of footsteps and suddenly there was a pair of hands on you – a gentle pair of hands. You opened your eyes to see Peter looking at you in concern, his eyes raking over your body for possible injuries, before they snagged on your cheekbone.
“I can accompany her to the nurses’ office,” Peter offered, looking to Dr Brenner for permission.
Because there would always be the need for permission in this job, this life. Dr Brenner looked you over briefly before nodding to Peter, who helped you to your feet. He steadied you with an arm around your waist as he helped you out of the room, your legs shaking slightly from shock.
The two of you walked down the hallway in silence, your embarrassment growing. In all honesty, the suddenness of the light and exploding glass had frightened and surprised you, but it didn’t warrant all this. You could easily clean yourself up, even the blood that was definitely making its way down your chin now. The door of your office came into view, and Peter opened it, letting you inside first. You expected him to leave then, to go back to taking care of the children, but instead he began going through the draws, looking for things he needed to patch you up.
“You don’t have to do this,” you mumbled, embarrassment heating your cheeks. “I can do it myself.”
“I can do it,” Peter said smoothly.
You closed your mouth, and Peter gathered everything he needed before placing everything on the desk. He looked at you expectantly, and when you stayed still, he gently pushed you down onto the stool the children usually sat on while you patched them up.
“You can go now, if you want,” you tried again.
“I can do it,” Peter repeated, more firmly this time. He looked into your eyes as he grabbed a wet cloth. “I want to.”
That shut your mouth, and you prayed that he wouldn’t feel the heat of your cheeks as he knelt between your legs for better access and brushed the cloth over your cheekbone – over the cut from the glass. From the little, smug smile that appeared on Peter’s face, you knew he felt your burning cheeks.
It was silent as he worked, and you didn’t want to break it. It was peaceful as he cleaned your cut and carefully, gently placed a bandaid on your cheek. His thumb smoothed it over softly, bringing a small stinging to your cheek – a stinging you ignored, as Peter’s eyes lingered on your lips. Your breathing hitched, and his eyes flicked to yours, a smug smile growing on his face. He turned his head to the door, which was closed, before looking at you again.
His thumb brushed over your cheek again, and you held your breath. His stunning eyes were gazing at you intently, and his rosy lips parted slightly.
“Y/n,” he murmured, your name sounding like a prayer on his lips. “Y/n.”
“Yes?” you breathed, your heartbeat increasing as you noted the proximity between your faces.
His breath fanned over your face, and you blinked quickly.
“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.
Your world froze, and sped up, and a new, unknown confidence surged through you.
“Then do it,” you said, surprised to find your voice unwavering.
Peter grinned, and leaned forwards, his lips meeting yours. Your hands found their way into his hair as his found your waist, tugging you closer to him. His lips moved over yours hungrily, like he’d been dreaming of this for a while, and you tugged his hair lightly, earling a small groan from him in response. You felt like you could kiss him until you ran out of breath. And run out of breath you did, and Peter pulled away, leaning his forehead against you.
“That was…” you loosed a breath, unable to find words.
Peter let out a breathy chuckle.
“Agreed,” he murmured. He paused, before continuing, “can we do that again?”
You were about to answer when there was a small, hesitant knock at the door. Peter stood up instantly, his eyes trained on the door. You stood up after him, and Peter opened the door, his body tense. He relaxed slightly, however, when he recognised the person at the door. He stepped aside, and Eleven walked in, slightly hesitantly.
“Eleven,” you greeted. “How can I help you?”
“Are you okay?” she asked quietly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, I promise.”
You smiled and knelt down in front of the small girl.
“I’m fine,” you assured her quickly. “I’m very proud of you. That was impressive.”
Eleven smiled shyly, and you offered her another smile.
“You should probably be getting to your room now,” you told her, standing back up.
Eleven smiled again and left with a wave. You smiled after her, before turning back to Peter. He was watching you with a smile, and he moved towards you cautiously before wrapping his arms around your waist. You responded by wrapping your own around his neck, smiling back at him.
