𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐋

𝘗𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺

𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮! 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵! 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵. 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘱 𝘪𝘯 𝘷 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤.

𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 18+

ೃ࿔₊•

NOT TO go on a tangent but i think that mike would've hated his long slender fingers growing up. i mean, it's no secret that he was bullied, and we all know one of the things that the bullies made fun of him for was how freakishly pale and bony he was. it isn't until the summer before college, when he starts to think differently of them.

he'd taken up a job to help save money for school, and who does he end up working alongside? none other than Y/N, the former queen bee of hawkin's high.

the two of Y/N didn't really talk in high school, something about cliques and hanging out with the opposite crowds or something like that but they knew of each other well, he knew of her. and while he'd never spoken to her directly, he had heard enough stories from the nerds and outcasts about how mean she could be.and that's how he came to the presumption that summer was gonna be absolute hell with her.

endless bickering endless insults thrown back and forth, followed by mean scowls and scolds but there was none of that, surprisingly.
to his dismay, she were all smiles, and sunshine. a giggly thing that liked to talk, and crack jokes, and throw out random compliments.

it was unnerving, weird. because here he was, with this made up version of her in his head, this mean-spirited, bitchy, bratty version of Y/N that didn't even exist it was just hatred fueled by word of mouth, and years of watching her from the sidelines but never talking to her. he thinks he's the biggest idiot, and rightfully so.

the first thing she said to him on the job was how pretty his hands were. it was a simple comment, just something said in passing as he stocked the shelves, but it stuck with him. and at first he was confused because they'd always been something he'd hated about himself. he thinks they're just hands, just bony, pale things, but she was insistent-adamant, and everyday she'd never fail to let him know how much she liked them whenever she was in his presence.

and after some time of knowing her, somehow it'd gone from 'your hands are so pretty to '¡ want them inside of me' and he can't fucking believe it, the poor boy doesn't know what to do or how to respond.

but he let's Y/N use him. let's her guide his hands to her pretty little cunt and fuck herself with 'em. and god, are she a sight to see. the faces she'd making? the things she'd babbling to him as he thrusted his fingers in and out of her folds? are quite literally wilder than anything he's ever made up in that head of his.

"been dreamin' about this for so fucking long, mikey," Y/N's voice was breathy and straggled, words spilling from her lips like smooth honey.

"always liked your fingers, think they're so pretty. Her honest confession sends a flood of warmth straight to his cheeks, and he prays to a higher power that she so busy with his fingers, that she didn't notice.

"yeah?" his voice was soft, uncertain, like he couldn't believe a girl like you would ever dream of wanting a guy like him. you were from different worlds, different universes. it didn't make sense. but then again, none of this did. Here she was the both of you in the inventory room, with his hands stuffed down your panties and, fuck, he was so hard.

he wanted so badly to touch himself, wanted to assuage the dull ache that he was feeling in his balls and his throbbing cock, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Y/N and couldn't take his hands off of her. self-restraint was something foreign to mike. he'd alwavs been one to take what he wanted. do what he wanted, and say what he wanted, but right now? right now he'd just watch, even if that meant creaming his pants, then so be it.

"mhm, 'm always thinking about you," Y/N said,

"had my eye on you since sophomore year but you paid me no mind. did everything i could to get your- your attention." She continued,

"really? but you were popular, i didn't think you noticed me," he unconsciously syncopates the last word with a thrust, and this made her moan, all short and breathy.

for a second his brain stops functioning, and he has to literally force the gears in his head to start turning, to move so he can find the words to speak. he wants to hear that sound again, and again, and-

"mmm, feels s'good. do that again, mikey," she asked him with those pretty puppy-dog eyes, but he doesn't exactly know what he did because he didn't mean to do it. he indulges you anyway, though, even if his approach is hesitated and inexperienced.

"i mean..'m nothing special," he begins to move, "so what did it for you, what made you fall for the loser?"

"-don't be stupid, I tell you everyday. you're
so-ahh, pretty." Her moans interrupting her,

his eyes were trained on her own, fingers moving in and out tantalizingly slowly as he processes this information. sure, she may have made it known on multiple occasions that he had pretty hands or whatever, but he thought you were just fucking around with him? because that's just the type of dynamic the two of you had established-friends, acquaintances, fuck, amiable associates that joked around to pass time at work?

"you say my hands are pretty, though. never heard you say i'm pretty. do you really think that?" it takes all of her strength to not slap him silly, so instead, she shuts him up with a kiss.

it's slow and soft, and the two of she moan into it-he groans because your cunt's squeezing his fingers, and she groan because you've been waiting to do that for so long.

"god, mikey...your fingers are stuffed inside of me and you have the nerve to ask if i think you're pretty?" She pulls away from his face, hands still tugging on his uniform shirt.

"let's make a deal. if you make me cum before our manager gets back, ill tell you all the times i tried to get your attention in high school. deal?"

the brunette up studies you before answering, "deal."

𝘞𝘤 1068