Mike wheeler

Mike had a horrible habit of spontaneously coming to your place in the middle of the night because he ‘missed you’. It was such a typical thing for him to do and god, you loved it. You’d gotten used to his usual routine by now. He’d climb through your window, mutter something about the bushes outside your window being “inconveniently placed” and throwing himself onto your bed with a wince. The rest of the night was a blur, really.

Today was no different, he had snuck in, his bike laying in your frontyard for your dad to find in the morning but that was the least of his worries. Your record player played the smiths as silently as possible and Mike pressed careless kisses against your lips. His nose was pressed against yours, exhaling harshly like he was in a rush or something. He was a horrific kisser. A smile grows against his lips, unable to not laugh at his skills, or lack thereof.

He begins to smile himself, eyes cracking open while he raised his eyebrows. “what?” he grumbles, kissing at your cupids bow before pulling away. You shake your head, wiping your lips with the back of your palm to which he scoffs, grinning. “am I actually that bad at kissing?” He asks in a hushed voice.

”I mean your okay I guess…” you sigh and look away like your trying to hold in a laugh ”yeah you are actually that bad”

He watches the smile on your face grow and a few snickers leave your lips, god that made him feel good. He brushes some hair behind your ear. “Well I guess that means I have to practice then” He asks, feigning innocence.

He drags a long sigh. holding your hand as if ready to receive devastating news.“I think i need more practice anyways, so no hard feelings.” He murmurs, gaze flickering between your lips and your eyes shamelessly.