#unexperienced

[gleekluver]

the polo shirt incident₊˚⊹ ᰔ

using these pics of finn as a reference for college!mike, see the vision ⊹₊⟡⋆

ʚ:content: college au, established relationship, smut, fingering, first times, clumsy!mike, mdni

the mattress creaked when mike shifted, his long legs tangling with yours under the sheets. the room was quiet, just the sound of his heavy breathing and the faint hum of traffic outside his campus apartment. he was hovering over you, his dark hair falling forward into his eyes, looking down with an intense, slightly panicked expression he got whenever he was overthinking.

he was wearing that navy polo shirt you’d been staring at all afternoon, but the buttons were undone, showing the flushed, nervous pink of his chest. his big hands were resting on your hips, his thumbs pressing into your skin.

"my hands are freezing," he muttered, his voice cracking a little. "are you sure?"

you rolled your eyes, a little grumpy from how long he was taking. "mike. just do it."

"okay. okay, hold on," he whispered.

he slid his hand down, past the waistband of your underwear. you shivered when his fingertips first brushed against your inner thigh. they were cold, but the heat between your legs was already building. mike swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his fingers moved higher, finally pressing against your center. you were already slick, the front of his boxers rubbing against your thigh as he leaned closer.

he parted you slowly with his thumb, his gaze locked on your face to check your reaction. when he slid his middle finger inside you, you let out a sharp gasp, your fingers instantly digging into the fabric of his shirt.

"did that hurt?" he asked quickly, freezing completely. "was that too much?"

"no," you breathed, pulling his shirt to tug him back down. "no, it’s fine. just don't stop."

he let out a shaky breath against your neck, his body relaxing just a fraction as he pushed his finger a little deeper. the tight, wet heat of you swallowed his finger completely. he started to move, slowly at first, curling his finger inside you to find the right angle. he wasn't perfectly smooth at it, his knuckle rubbed against you awkwardly for a second and he mumbled a quick apology into your skin, but he was paying attention to every twitch of your hips.

he added a second finger, stretching you open a little more. you let out a choked sound, arching your back off the mattress as his thumb started rubbing circles against your clit. mike’s breathing hitched. he got a steady hyperfocused rhythm down, his fingers sliding in and out of you quickly, slick with your wetness. the wet sound of it in the quiet room made your face burn, but mike was completely locked in now, his long body heavy against yours, his chest dragging against your nipples through your shirt.

"you're so wet," he whispered into your ear, his voice scratchy and rough. "do you like that? right there?"

you couldn't even answer, just nodding against his shoulder as his fingers pushed deep and hit the exact spot that made your toes curl. his pace picked up, his hand getting clumsy but excited, wet between your thighs until you suddenly tightened around him, a hard wave of heat rolling through your stomach. you buried your face in his neck, muffled cries hitting his skin as you came, your walls squeezing his fingers tightly.

mike let out a low, breathless grunt, keeping his fingers inside you for a few more shallow strokes until your breathing slowed down.

when he finally slid his hand out, he was panting, his face bright red and dripping with sweat. he stayed hovering over you for a second, looking down at his fingers, slick and glistening with your wetness. his eyes were completely focused as he slowly brought his hand up to his mouth. he wrapped his lips around his fingers, sucking them clean with a slow intensity, his tongue tasting you while his gaze stayed locked onto yours. he swallowed hard, his throat moving as he pulled his fingers out with a soft click of his tongue.

he collapsed right next to you, rolling onto his back and dragging his arm over his eyes, his chest heaving under his shirt. the front of his boxers was visibly soaked.

you turned your head on the pillow, still trembling a little, looking at him grumpily. "you're a mess, wheeler."

mike let out a breathless, exhausted laugh, keeping his eyes covered but reaching out with his clean hand to blindly find yours, squeezing your fingers tight. "shut up," he mumbled, his mouth curling into a tired, proud smile. "you told me to do it."

[angelfmheaven]

give me some love

[prettyinpinkk7]

i hate being a virgin when i’m horny allllll the time

[uneessencesensible]

La vie est faite de choses prévues et imprévues. Les prévues, c'est nous qui les mettons en place, les choisissant pour diverses raisons. Les autres, c'est la vie, le destin, ou le hasard, que sais-je, peut-être même nos décisions, qui les posent devant nous. Soit, nous acceptons, soit, nous prenons la décision de les ignorer, soit, nous ne prenons pas le temps de regarder autour de nous. C'est bien dommage. Bien des fois, cela peut nous être bénéfique de lâcher prise sur le quotidien et de prendre le temps de faire autre chose que « ce qui était prévu ».

16.01.2026

[taliax17]

Need rn

[gleekluver]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒

mike’s never been with anyone and he’s terrified of messing up, so his roommate offers to help him out. It’s just practice… right?

‧₊˚ ┊𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k ˎˊ˗

♡ྀི ┊𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: college au, first kisses, awkward nerd mike🤤, crumbs of vulnerability, not proofread.ᐟ

the dorm was quiet, except for the hum of the minifridge and the scratch of mike’s mechanical pencil against a notebook. it was late, well past the hour where most people were out doing things that they were supposed to do. for a year, this had been their routine. silence, study, the occasional shared takeout, and the polite, careful distance they maintained to keep from tripping over each other’s lives.

mike was hunched over his desk, his posture tight, shoulders pulled up toward his ears. "you’re grinding your teeth again," you said, not looking up from your own book.

mike’s pencil froze. he let out a short, sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "i’m not. i’m just… thinking."

"you’ve been thinking for three hours," you said, closing your book and turning your chair to face his back. he didn't turn around, but he shifted, a clear sign that he was retreating. "it’s friday night, mike. do you ever actually go out? i feel like if i looked for you in the dictionary under 'hermit,' i’d find a picture of your laptop."

mike let out a dry, humorless laugh. "very funny. i have things to do. school is hard, in case you hadn't noticed."

"school is hard for everyone," you said, your voice softening because you saw the way he was gripping his pencil, hard enough that the lead snapped. "everyone else seems to balance it. they go out, they meet people, they… i don't know, they date. you’ve been here for a year, mike. i’ve never seen you go on a single date. i’ve never seen you bring anyone back. you’re like a ghost in this room."

mike finally spun his chair around, but he didn't look at you. he looked at the floor, his foot tapping a nervous rhythm against the leg of his desk. "well, i don’t see why that’s your concern."

"it’s not a concern. i’m just… curious," you lied, feeling the heat rise in your own cheeks. the truth was, you’d been wondering since the second month. you’d been watching him, the way he looked when he was stressed, the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren't looking, the way you’d both fallen into this comfortable rhythm that felt like more than friendship to you, even if you were too terrified to name it. "is it… is there someone?"

mike’s head snapped up. he looked startled, his eyes wide and dark, searching your face for a joke you weren't making. "what? no. no, there’s no one."

"so, what? you just don’t like people?"

"it’s not that," he muttered, his voice dropping, turning raspy and defensive. he started picking at the thread on his sleeve, his movements clumsy. "it’s just… it’s a lot, okay? putting yourself out there. it’s not really my thing."

"you’re twenty, mike."

"i know how old i am," he snapped, then immediately softened, his shoulders slumping. "look, i just… i haven't really done any of that. ever. it’s not exactly something you advertise."

the room felt like it had suddenly lost all its oxygen. you sat there, blinking, trying to process the vulnerability he’d just handed you. you’d spent the last year thinking he was just busy, or maybe guarded, but hearing him admit he’d never… it felt like the floor had dropped out from under you. it matched the ache you’d been carrying for him, the secret you’d been keeping under a lock and key because you were too scared of ruining the only space where you felt like you belonged.

"you’ve never…?" you started, then stopped, feeling like an idiot. "oh. i didn’t… i’m sorry. i wasn't trying to pry."

"it’s fine," he said, though it clearly wasn't. he looked miserable. "it’s just… if i started now, i wouldn’t have any idea what i was doing. i’d probably just… be weird. make it awkward. ruin it for whoever it was. i’m not good at the… the stuff people do. the flirting, or the reading the room, or whatever. i’d just be that guy who fumbles through it and makes everything uncomfortable."

he looked at his hands, his knuckles white. he didn't say the rest, he didn't have to. he didn't say that he’d spent the whole year wanting someone, but being too afraid of acting on it because you two shared a dorm, because he didn't want to be the guy who crossed a line, because he didn't want to lose the one person who actually got him.

"mike," you said, your voice shaking just a little. you stood up, moving slowly, cautiously. you didn't want to scare him off. you stopped just a few feet from him, giving him every chance to turn away. "you’re not going to ruin anything. and you’re not weird. you’re just… you’re you."

he looked at you, his gaze searching yours, looking for a way out, but finding none. "you-you don’t know that. you’ve never seen me try."

"maybe," you whispered. the room felt very small, the silence thick with the things you hadn't said for twelve months. you were terrified, too. you were scared that if you did this, you’d change everything, that you’d break the fragile balance of your lives. but looking at him, seeing the raw, quiet desperation in his eyes, you knew you couldn't just walk away. "but… if you’re worried about being bad at it… why don't you practice?"

mike blinked, his breath hitching. "practice? ..like, what do you mean?”

"with me," you said, and your voice was barely a whisper. it was the most vulnerable thing you’d ever said. "it doesn’t… it doesn't have to be anything. we can just… help you get over the hump. if you’re worried about being clumsy, we can just… see. right now."

mike stared at you, his mouth slightly parted. he looked like he was trying to solve an equation that had no solution, his brows furrowed, his eyes darting to your face and then back to your lips. "you’re..being serious?"

"i’m just… trying to help a friend," you said, not able to even believe yourself.

he stood up, but he was shaky. he didn't have any of the confidence he’d seen other guys in the dorm hallway have. he just looked like himself, earnest, anxious, and deeply, painfully careful. he took one step toward you, then another, until he was standing right in your space. he didn't touch you yet. he hovered, his hands coming up and then dropping back to his sides, like he wasn't sure if he had permission to exist in the same space as you.

"if i’m… if i’m not good at this," he said, his voice so quiet it was almost lost in the room, "you have to tell me. don’t just be nice. tell me."

"i won't be nice," you promised, your heart hammering against your ribs. "i’ll be honest."

he took a deep breath, and he finally reached out. his hands landed on your waist, his grip delicate, like he was afraid he might bruise you. his palms were warm, and you could feel the tremor in his fingers. he looked down at your face, his dark eyes searching yours, and for a second, he looked terrified.

"okay," he breathed.

he leaned in, slow and agonizingly hesitant. he was overthinking it, you could see it in the way he squinted, in the way he tilted his head too far, in the way he hesitated when he was inches away. you couldn't take it anymore. you reached up, your fingers finding the collar of his hoodie, and you gently tugged him the rest of the way.

the contact was electric. it was messy, he bumped his nose against yours, and he held his breath, and for a heartbeat, it was exactly as awkward as he’d feared. but then, he let out a sharp exhale, his eyes fluttering shut, and his grip on your waist tightened. he wasn't thinking about the mechanics anymore. he was just feeling.

he wasn't experienced, and you weren't either, but the desperation was there, a year’s worth of unspoken longing pouring into the touch. he moved his hands, pulling you closer, his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you in place like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. he kissed you like he was trying to learn the shape of your soul, his mouth searching, then slowly finding a rhythm that was just yours.

he made a small, frustrated sound in his throat, pulling back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours. he was flushed, his hair a disaster, his eyes dazed and wide.

"is that…?" he started, his voice thick. "was that… okay?"

you let out a shaky, breathless laugh, your hands still clutching the front of his hoodie. you could feel his heartbeat through his chest, fast and irregular, matching your own. "y-yeah," you whispered, "that was.. pretty good, i think.”

he let out a long, shuddering breath, the tension in his shoulders finally draining away, replaced by a soft, incredulous look of wonder. he didn't pull away. he stayed right there, in the circle of your arms, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

"okay," he murmured, his voice stronger now, more certain. "i think i might need to practice a little more."

he didn't wait for an answer. he leaned in again, and this time, there was no hesitation.

[onyxdreamsxx]

“virgins” this, “virgins” that.

what about people who have only had sex a handful of times? not enough to know what they’re doing, but enough to be able to say “im not a virgin”

think about guiding someone not-quite innocent through riding you, hands on their hips, grip tightening when you high that deep point. Tell them what a good job they’re doing, how well they’re taking you.

think about putting someone not-quite innocent in different positions for you, experiment to find which ones they like, they may not know yet.

think about laying someone not-quite innocent on their back and guiding them to cum all over your hand.

think about the not-quite innocent ones