Welcome to the Masterlist for The Rite, exploring the murky depths of another of my questionable Asgardian headcanons, complete with nonsense eroticism and gratuitous clothing choices.
The Rite: As an invisible member of the wider Asgardian court, everything changes when you catch the eye of the elusive Prince Loki under unconventional circumstances. Pressured by time (and his brother) Loki is reminded he must complete a particular Rite in order to secure his place in Asgard's succession - all he needs is a partner. But adhering to the strict rules in the approach to the ceremonial Rite is more challenging than hedonistic, smugly smouldering Loki anticipated...as are his growing feelings for you.
A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE
One - A Royal Audience (w/c 3.7k)
Two - Coming Wed 12 June
Three- Coming soon
Four - Coming soon
Five - Coming soon
Six - Coming soon
Seven - Coming soon
Summary: He want's to stay in bed just a little longer..
(This is my first fic so please feel free to give constructive criticism!)
Warnings: This is just a fluff fanfic but he does kiss the reader!!
Mike peered over the edge of the bed, watching as his partner stirred in their sleep. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. Mike couldn't help but smile at the sight of his lover, their tousled hair and peaceful expression making them look utterly content.
As much as Mike wanted to get up and start the day, he found himself torn. He knew how much his partner loved to sleep in, relishing every precious minute of rest they could steal. And today, Mike couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted nothing more than to stay in bed a little longer.
With a gentle touch, Mike brushed a stray lock of hair from his lover's forehead, his heart swelling with affection. He leaned in closer, pressing a soft kiss to their cheek, hoping to coax them into a few more moments of slumber.
"Hey, sleepyhead," Mike whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "You don't have to wake up just yet. Stay with me a little longer.."
They mumbled something incoherent, their hand reaching out to grasp Mike's in a sleepy embrace. A contented sigh escaped their lips, and Mike felt a rush of warmth flood his chest. This was where he belonged, right here beside the person he loved more than anything in the world.
With a reluctant smile, Mike settled back against the pillows, content to bask in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He traced patterns along their arm, relishing in the feel of their warmth against his skin.
Time seemed to slow as they lay there together, wrapped up in each other's arms. Mike's mind drifted to all the things had to do today, but none of it seemed as important as this. As long as he had his partner by his side, everything else could wait.
He pressed another lingering kiss to their forehead, savoring the sweetness of the morning. The world outside could be chaotic and unpredictable, but in this little bubble of tranquility, nothing else mattered.
Eventually, the morning sun crept higher in the sky, casting brighter rays into the room. Mike knew they couldn't stay in bed forever, as much as he wished they could. But for now, he was content to simply be here, with them, sharing these precious moments together.
And as they finally stirred awake, blinking sleepily up at him, Mike couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple joy of being able to wake up beside the person he loved. In that moment, nothing else in the world mattered except the warmth of their embrace and the promise of a new day together.
Synopsis: You detest having a roommate. You enjoy cheap rent. One of these things is going to have to change at some point, and with the week you're having? There's only so long before people reach a breaking point.
Tags: Smut. Filthy smut. (This is the first smut I've published too, so enjoy that.) Enemies to lovers, mocking, Mike is so OoC at some parts you could really shove anyone into this role, I'm going to be so extremely for real. (I'm honestly just feral for the actor. Sorry.) Hate fucking, dirty talk, cursing, cucking(??), listening in, masturbating, dumbification, slight dacrophillia(??), Abby's out of the equation for this scenario. Imagine like, early 20s Mike, he's not caretaker yet. Praising, pet names (good girl, princess, whore, pretty girl), no use of Y/N. Dom! Mike, teasing Reader, Brat (??) Reader, phone sex, walking in on masturbation, walking in on sex, possessive! Mike, hickies/bite marks, finger sucking, hair pulling, slut shaming, probably missing some things imma be honest. Just assume this is depraved.
Notes: I'd like to apologize to God and Josh Hutcherson. This is filth and I recognize my eternal soul is indeed damned. Anyways, bone apple teet.
I didn't mind Mike when I met him, you know.
He's quiet. Shy. Keeps to himself. Those traits should make for a good roommate. If he'd kept his mess confined to his room, maybe the music that he blares just a little too loudly wouldn't be so headache inducing.
My fingers rap on the thin door, demanding his attention which is never given to me unless I make a production out of it. We both know that.
"Michael," I say.
Silence.
"Mike."
Nothing.
I open the door and there he is, peacefully asleep on his bed as the bass shakes the water in his glass. I sigh and click off the stereo, then turn to leave. It's incredible how quickly I hear him shift on the bed, scrambling to stand.
"The fuck?" He croaks, wiping sleep from his eyes.
"Your music was blaring. I already heard it from Mrs. Jones upstairs about you waking her kid up, I'm not dealing with that again," I say raising my hands up in the air defensively.
"I don't sleep well," he says.
"Neither does the baby," I say.
Mike rolls his eyes, turning the music back on and turning his back to me.
"Michael-"
"Don't call me that," he interrupts.
It's my turn to roll my eyes. "Schmidt, can you at least turn it down? I'm asking nicely," I say. He stands there for a moment and though I can't see his face, I know he's thinking.
Finally, with a sigh he says "Fine, princess."
"Don't call me that," I say. I hear a small huff of laughter from him and he turns to look at me.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with false sympathy.
"It's a simple request," I say. My eyes narrow at him in irritation.
"Which one?"
"Both."
We stand there for a moment, both of us sizing the other up, taking each other in.
"Fine."
"Fine."
"Fine."
With the agreement having been made, I turn to leave, shutting the door behind me.
Year long lease. Joy.
-Tuesday-
"Hurry up!" Yells Mike, pounding on the bathroom door.
"I'm fucken hurrying!" I yell back, my hands working as fast as they can to wash off my body. Late alarm, fever dreams causing me to wake in a pool of stinking sweat, and one bathroom make for a horrendous cocktail of repeated 'fuck you's through the cheap door.
"I'm gonna be late!" Mike yells.
"So am I, I'm sorry!"
There's a moment of long silence and I think maybe Mike has finally found a spot of pity, realizing that maybe we aren't enemies but simply humans who unfortunately have to coexist in this world together. Then the water turns freezing, and I realize I hate him.
"Michael!" I practically scream. Traces of soap still reside on my body, but the cold and my alarm both force me out. Angered and not thinking clearly, I wrap the towel around my dripping waist and swing the door open.
"Are you fucking happy?" I sneer, face inches from his.
His expression is initially satisfied, but as his eyes flicker downwards he and I both realize my mistake. His eyes widen, lingering for a moment on my bare chest as he processed what he was seeing, then returning to meet my glare.
"What?" I ask sharply. "You've never seen a pair before?"
He stammers. "I-I have."
"Don't act like it," I say. "Take a fucken photo, be the only pair you'll probably ever see in your life, dicksmack."
As though he remembers himself, his eyes narrow. "Move, princess."
I slam past him, walking quickly towards my room and slamming the door behind me.
"Don't wake the baby!" Mike mocks down the hall.
Oh, motherfucker. It is on.
-Wednesday-
It's hard to break a lease. It's harder when nothing as cheap exists in the area. This is a problem for both Mike and I. I know it's true for him because apparently even his bills are too troublesome to keep on the floor of his room. But despite his mess, it's him that comes barreling down the hall, bursting into my room with no warning.
"Jesus, Michael!" I start, spinning around in my chair. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"
"Have you ever heard of washing a dish?" He sneers. "It's not hard. My baby sister could do it."
"Oh, is she available? I'd love to see how she'd handle your laundry situation," I retort.
"Why is it impossible for you to actually wash something? You'll put water in it, let it soak. I respect that, but then you never come back to it. Do you enjoy flies? I think you enjoy flies," he says with hate dripping off of his words. I roll my eyes, but he's not entirely wrong either.
"Fine," I mutter. "I'll do the dishes. Sorry."
"See? Look at how hard that was, princess." He begins to turn away.
"Will you quit fucking calling me that?" I snap.
"I'm following our bargin. You're the one who slips first, princess," he says while laughing, raising his hands in defense.
A long moment passes, neither of us willing to back down.
"Do the dishes yourself," I say finally, turning back to the computer.
"Not my mess," he says.
"Too bad. I'm too delicate," I say with a faux breathiness to my voice. The door slams behind him, which has me instantly rising from my chair to race after him.
"Don't slam my door!" I say.
"You did it the other day!" He says, spinning around to face me and almost slipping on one of his shirts littering the hall. I can't help but smile at that.
"Problems?" I ask.
"Yeah, they exist in whatever demon spawned you," he hisses. His eyes catch on something though, narrowing as he leans slightly closer. "The fuck is on your neck?" He asks.
"The fuck you mean 'the fuck is on my neck?'" I ask.
"I mean you've got something on your neck," he says.
"No I don't," I say. "Move." I shove past him to enter the bathroom beside us, flicking on the light and feeling my irritation rise as he reaches to do the same thing simultaneously.
"See?" He says, pointing at a small, dark mark on my neck.
Fuck.
"I don't know fucken know what that is," I lie, covering it with my hand.
"You liar, that's a hickey!" He says still pointing at it.
"Is not!"
"Is too. What, are you fucking some high-schooler?" He scoffs.
"Adults leave hickies too, Mike. It can be enjoyable. You'd know this if someone ever wanted to fuck you," I spit back.
"Who on earth would enjoy having sex with you?" He asks. "The only loads you leave attract flies I don't want to have to deal with come summer."
My jaw drops in shock.
"And the only loads you leave smell like menthols and depression!" I retort.
Staring. Always staring with this guy. Jaws clentched, eyes narrowed.
"Just don't bring this guy around here," he finally says. His voice is quieter but the edge is still there.
I blink. "What?"
"You heard me," he says. "I don't need to hear your shrill voice like that."
Am I imagining things or is he blushing? No, I'm definitely imagining things. It's the florescents.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" I taunt. The fuck kind of response was that?
His eyes widen slightly. "No," he says a little too quickly.
"What, you get one look at my tits and now you're thinking about that degenerate shit?" I press, stepping closer.
"I don't- this-" He's blundering. I've got him now, I've found his weak spot.
Without a word, I slip out of the bathroom and return to my room, shutting the door and beginning a plan that will guarantee I won't have to worry about being the roommate that breaks lease and looks for a new apartment.
-Thursday-
"Are you close, baby?" The sweet voice on the phone asks me. The battery on my toy is flashing, showing one of us needs to finish soon. And while I like Nick, there was just something lacking in him that kept me on this irritating edge, hiding my release from me.
"I'm close," I confirm, switching hands to try and hit a new angle. The video on the computer is doing nothing to help with this at all, and I'm so bored I'm tempted to just fake it and seal the deal.
The plan was simple. Establish dominance over my roommate via fucking a guy I'd met at some party the week before. Nick was an easy target, too busy thinking with his dick to question why I was suddenly insistent on him coming over. And to guarantee his presence at the apartment, I would have to put in work. Not that I wasn't fully uninterested. He was alright, I was single. Beneficial for everyone involved.
The vibrator finally found that sweet spot, the one that made me cry out softly into the receiver as my wrist pumped with newfound vigor.
"Close," I told Nick. "Isn't as good as you though."
Nick chuckles softly. "You're sweet," he says. Then he's prattling sweet praises, whimpering into the phone breathily along with me as I finally begin to tip over the edge, moaning loudly and clearly. It's my luck that Mike should be at work at this moment.
Should be.
Wasn't.
The door opens as Mike walks in, his mind obviously focused on something else but immediately taken aback at the sight of me sprawled upon the bed, legs open, toy in hand, Nick on phone, porn on computer. Shit.
"Jesus!" Mike shouts. "It's the middle of the day!"
"Get the fuck out!" I shout back, my voice less vicious than I'd like given that I was mid-ruined orgasm. Mike covers his eyes, trying to stumble out of the door without looking, muttering a dozen apologies a second before finally reaching and slamming the door shut behind him.
Nick and I are both silent for a long while, neither of us sure what to say.
"So... I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask finally.
"...yeah." He says. And with the click of my phone, the plan is solidified.
-
I don't see Mike that evening until about three hours later when he finally emerges from his room with pink cheeks and clothed in a large hoodie he seems to wish would swallow him whole.
"Hey," I say to him. I chew on my cheap food slowly, flipping through my novel at the cluttered table.
"Hi," he says quietly, not really making eye contact with me. He crosses to the cabinets, taking out a glass and filling it with water. We listen to the tap for a moment before I finally say "I didn't mean for you to see that."
His eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "I got that."
More silence. The tap shuts off and he leans against the sink, taking a long sip.
"So... hickey guy?" He finally asks. And I can't help the snort that escapes me.
"Nick," I say.
"And he's...?" Mike is testing the waters, that much is obvious.
"Canadian," I say.
Mike nods. Sip. Silence.
"Nick, from Canada," he says slowly.
"Yep," I say, popping the 'p.'
Mike looks at his drink in thought.
"So you're into Canadians," he finally says. I think for a moment.
"No," I say. I mark my book and close it. "Just bored."
"Just bored?" Mike asks.
"Just bored," I confirm.
Sip. Silence. Thinking.
"You... do that regularly?" He asks.
"I mean... I like sex," I say.
His cheeks redden at that, and he takes another sip as though to hide that.
"He's coming over tomorrow," I say casually. Mike's eyes dart to mine, dark and wide.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Another sip. He finishes his glass.
"Should I find plans for tomorrow?" He asks finally.
"No," I say a bit too quickly. Both of our cheeks redden at that. "I mean, we won't... shouldn't...." I don't know what I mean.
Mike stares at me thoughtfully for a moment then looks back to the glass in his hand.
"You're pretty loud, princess," he finally says quietly.
There's a new tension in the air. One that isn't brought on by hate or dirty dishes. One that I don't mind strangely.
"You could join us, if you'd like," I offer. Mike's grip on the glass tightens so suddenly I'm almost surprised it doesn't burst.
"I- I'm pretty sure I'd get in the way," he stammers. Then his eyes darken, a strange look in them. "Besides, I don't like being a whore."
This comment stings. Deeply.
"I'm not a whore," I say defensively.
"Oh?" Mike asks.
"He's the only guy I've fucked in months, so yeah," I say.
"Oh, is that why I hear you moaning late at night all the fucking time?" Mike says. "Seriously, you're fucking loud."
"And you're a fucking virgin," I snap.
"Says who?" He asks.
"Forget it," I say. I gather my things and rise from my chair. "Don't fucking talk to me."
"Fine," he scoffs. "I'll wash this dish too, princess," he calls after me.
I spin around. "You would be so much more fuckable if you were easy to swallow," I snapped, stomping my foot like a child.
Both of us stare at each other in a bit of shock at what I just said.
"Most girls swallow just fine, thank you," he retorts.
"Who's the whore now?" I say. I don't wait for him to respond, slamming the door shut behind me.
Fine. Let him hate me. That's the whole point of this anyways. Then it'll be me and someone else in this terrible fucking apartment. Maybe it'll be Nick. Anyone would be better, I tell myself.
...
...how easy is Mike to swallow?
-Friday-
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to remember the correct name right now.
Nick is underneath me, pumping his cock in and out like no tomorrow as I grind against him. My jaw is slack, my hands buried in the blankets fabric underneath of us. I'm staring at the thin door though, the thin door that I know leaks every little noise whether there's a towel under the enormous crack or not. And the shadows of footsteps that I see make it all the easier for Nick to continue his shallow rhythm, edging me closer and closer.
"Mi-Nick," I moan loudly. It sounds endearing, thankfully. But my heart races at how close I've come to fucking things up in a few different ways. "Fuck, you're thick," I moan. It's not particularly true, but his size is fine, so what's an ego boost to help him along the way?
Nick is sweet underneath of me, moaning that I'm his, that we're each others. That's great and all, but God. There is this missing edge. And it isn't until I hear pounding on the bedroom door that I finally feel real excitement begin to flow through me.
"We need to talk," Mike's voice says firmly.
Nick looks guilty, his eyes wide and asking for silent guidance. I don't respond, simply continuing to slide up and down Nick's cock and moaning while doing so.
"Hey, princess," Mike says firmer, pounding on the door again. "Think you can stop Oh-ing Canada and come talk to me like a fucking adult?"
I don't stop, grinding harder against Nick's base. My hands find my clit, rubbing it as I respond.
"I told you you were welcome to join us," I moan. Nick looks at me like I've gone utterly insane, and maybe I have. Maybe I'm completely delusional about all of this, but I couldn't care less as I feel my dripping cunt tighten to the point even Nick doesn't care what happens so long as he comes inside of me.
"Mi-Nick," I moan. "Mi-ne, mi-ne." Come on, Schmidt. Catch the fucking hint.
All night I had been plauged with dreams about Michael fucking Schmidt. I'd noticed when we met he was attractive to me. I liked his hands, his stubble. God, his shoulders made me think things that will probably send me straight to Hell. But hate usually kept these thoughts at bay. Last night however, the dreams wouldn't stop coming. Over and over, a new fantasy of him emerged in my head. Him underneath of me as a writing mess, him begging for more, my tits in his mouth as he finished inside me. It was depraved. I wanted it.
The door bursts open just as Nick is finishing inside of me. It's the look in Mike's eyes that causes me to finish, all while keeping eye contact with him as well.
Nick is quick to flip me on my back, covering my body haphazardly with a blanket prattling excuse after excuse. Apparently we're sorry. Apparently we had gotten too wrapped up in the moment because apparently, you know how it is, right man?
But it doesn't matter. Mike isn't looking at Nick, who's pulling on his shirt above me. Mike's looking at me, watching my fingers that trail gently along my areolas, flicking lightly at my hardened nipples and clearly longing for more.
"Mike wouldn't know the first thing about pleasing a woman," I say with little thought.
"Oh?" Both of them ask me.
"I think you should leave, Nick. Mike and I are going to have a little talk, and I don't want you to see how ugly this may get," I say without breaking eye contact with Mike.
The sudden shift in the air is not subtle, so maybe that's why Nick doesn't really hesitate to listen to me.
"I'll call you later," he says as he stumbles past Mike.
"Don't bother," Mike calls after him. Mike slams the bedroom door shut, locking it before turning to me and raising an eyebrow.
"Is there something you'd like to say to me?" Mike asks, narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms as his stands tall.
My hand dips to between my thighs where Nick and I's cum pools out, coating me in the thick stuff.
"Sorry," I say in a spoiled tone, smiling.
Mike's eyes scan my entire body. From the hickies coating my neck, to my breasts and even my thighs, I can see a new wave of anger washes over him. At least, it looks like anger. There's something else mixed with it too, something I desperately want to play with.
"You're not sorry for shit," he says. He's correct.
"I told you last night, I like fucking people," I say as my fingers circle my clit.
Mike's jaw tightens. "You like fucking people," he repeats.
I can see him grind his teeth. He's silent for another moment. "And do you like... him?"
I giggle. "You tell me," I say with a soft and low voice.
His eyebrows twitch. "You're still... going?" He asks with an unsure edge to his voice.
"Yes, Michael. This is what a woman looks like when she's turned on," I say in a mocking tone, batting my lashes as my fingers dip into my entrance. "Would you like to try?"
He steps closer, bending down ever so slightly to stand over me.
"Don't call me that," he says in a low growl.
"Make me," I taunt.
He blinks.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
A startled yelp escapes me as Mike grabs my hips, dragging me roughly to the edge of the bed. He spreads my legs, stepping between them and slips his rough thumb inside of me with no hesitation.
"Fuck. You do like him," he groans, his other hand fiddling with his belt. I can see how hard he is underneath his jeans, his fingers clumsy but working quickly at the items covering him.
"He's oka-ay," I say quickly, my voice trailing off into a soft moan. His thumb explores the inside of my cunt, probing the wet muscle and massaging inside of me spots a man had never taken time to look for before. "Your finger's thick," I moan.
Mike chuckles, freeing himself and pumping into his hand slowly as he presses his thumb deeper inside of me.
"You told Nick he was thick too," he says. "That just your line with guys?"
It is, but this time I actually mean it. So I shake my head. "No," I say quietly.
"I don't believe you," Mike says. He slips his thumb out of me, making me clench around nothing. I open my mouth to protest only for Mike to quickly shove his thumb into my mouth, touching the back of my throat while he sinks his cock into me.
"Go on, pretty girl," he moans. "Take it like the proud whore you are."
I gag around his thumb, both from the sudden intrusion and from the taste. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like this, if I said that his actions didn't make me even more wet and that I didn't suck his thumb greedily, wrapping my tongue around it and sucking it clean until I can only taste his rough flesh. I swear it makes his dick twitch.
His cock slides in and out of me with ease, taking his time to feel how I wrap around him.
"Fuck," he drawls. "It's been awhile."
I moan around his thumb, running my tongue along the underside and trying to rock my hips against him to tell him to speed up. Instead, he presses a hand down on my lower stomach, pinning me down as he sinks in fully. At first glance his size is average, but inside of me it's overstimulating how he fills me just a little too much.
His thumb presses further into my throat, making me gag as he tilts his head back in pleasure.
"You are just demanding. Do you know that?" He asks. I try to respond, but he simply presses his thumb against a spot that makes me gag once more.
"Nothing's good enough for you. Not even Nick. You didn't even cum until I came in here," he laughed cruelly, looking down at where we connect. His other thumb trails down to rub my clit slowly, making me writhe underneath him and clench around his still cock.
"Never shutting up. Till now. I like it when you're quiet, princess. Makes you easier to swallow." He presses deeper inside of me, making me whine in overstimulation.
"You're mine now," he says, slowly pulling out. "You can call Nick all you want. Call him, fuck him. But we both know he's not gonna make you cum like I will." Just his tip remains in me, barely staying in before he slams back into me so hard I scream.
"So what's the point?" Mike asks, slowly slipping out once more. "Do you like pitting men against each other like that?" He slams back into me. My eyes water, but I don't protest.
This time when he pulls back, he stays there. I wait for him, trying to he patient. But then he removes his thumb and wraps his hand around his length instead.
"What?" I ask, my voice raw.
"Say it," Mike says as he jerks himself off slowly.
"Say what?" I ask.
"I'm not gonna fuck you like you want unless you say you're mine," he says casually. His tip is bright red and leaking precum, his length coated in Nick and I's milky cum.
"Fuck you," I say. Mike just laughs.
"You're the one laying here crying over some dick," he taunts. "I just want to make sure we're on the same page here, princess."
I try to hold strong, I really do. It'd be more fun if I did. But fuck. The way he stands over me, his shoulders broad. I could never deny I liked the sight of his hands either, and seeing them tug as his pulsing cock while he stared down at me with that stupid fucking smile?
It's not fair.
"I'm yours," I say quietly.
"Hmm?" Mike asks, pumping his dick quicker now. I can see how hard his veins are, and the sounds of him fucking his own hand make me want him more.
"Yours," I repeat slightly louder.
"Use proper English," he says. His face has this stupid blissful look on it, his mouth slightly open as he pants, fucking himself and watching me as he does.
"I am yours," I hiss through gritted teeth. It doesn't even take a full second before he's buried in me once more, his hands pinning my knees to my shoulders and fucking me with enough speed I'm genuinely scared he'll hurt me. And I love it.
"I'm going to make you mine," he grins, his voice suddenly turning feral.
"I'm going to make you mine so much that you won't even be able to remember what Nick's name is, let alone what he looks like. Or what he feels like."
"Uh huh," I whine. My voice is so unusually high and ragged, my mouth slack and eyes rolling back in pleasure. I rock against his hips, trying to find my second edge. I'm babbling, whether I'm asking for mercy or more is anyone's guess.
He laughs at me, and it's a harsh and cruel laugh - not at all like the usual sarcasm and mockery he displays. Instead, his laugh comes from a place that is raw and angry and vicious, the kind of laugh a wolf makes when he's about to go for the kill.
"What's the matter?" he asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Not quite the big, bad man that he's made you think he was, is he? How disappointing," he continues, his hips thrusting into me repeatedly.
I cry loudly with each new thrust. His movements are cruel, borderline abusive. Christ, I love it.
"Bigger," I whine. "Bigger."
"Bigger?" He asks in a mocking voice. "What's bigger?"
He teeth nip at my throat, sinking in hard enough I'll be wearing sweaters and scarves for weeks. Makeup won't touch the color.
"You're bigger," I moan. My voice is broken, and there's no way the neighbors don't hear the degeneracy occurring around them. Sorry, Mrs. Jones.
"What are you going for?" he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his voice growing more and more vicious. "Big bad Mike?" he giggles, his grip tightening on my ankles as he continues plunging into me.
A loud scream escapes me as Mike finds my g spot. He doesn't relent, focusing on the spot and abusing it while I sob and try to wiggle away, completely overstimulated from pleasure and unable to handle it.
His hands pin me against him, trapping me where I am and forcing me to take him however he wants me to.
"You want more?" he asks, taking one hand away from my ankles, grabbing and pulling my hair harshly, forcing me to stare into his eyes. His pupils are so blown out I can't even see his pretty hazel irises. They're dark and predatory, his breath hot and heavy with rage.
"Is that what you want?" he asks, pulling back and plunging into my aching cunt again.
"Yes!" It's a violent scream that escapes me, feeling myself begin to tip over the edge. His eyes sparkle, his lips in a smile that shows he knows he's won.
"And what would Nick say if he could see you like this? All mine, all mine..." he taunts.
"Huh?" I'm completely stupid, my body coming undone so suddenly around his dick with cries, screams, whimpers and everything inbetween. Nick was foreplay and I've no mental energy to remember any detail that isn't Mike's.
"Don't even know his name?" Mike laughs. "You can't even remember his name, can you?" he grins, his eyes narrow again as he tugs my hair and shoves himself in further.
"Uh uh," I pant in a high voice. My body shakes terribly, his pounding length already edging me once more as he continues abusing my spot. How on earth am I supposed to walk after this?
"Then let me help you remember his name," he says. "Say his name."
"Mike," I moan pathetically. I'm right back on that edge, crying and feeling as though I'll burst from overstimulation.
"Louder," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm and mocking. "Say it louder. Say his name loud enough for him to hear you."
"Mike!" I scream it religiously as I come undone a second time, gripping him to the point I can feel how close he is too. I hear him laugh above me, his other hand now wrapping around my throat and choking me slightly.
"That's my name," he says with mocking gentleness. "Say his name or I won't finish."
"I don't remember," I sob. Jesus Christ, do I have problems? "Just want you!"
His face glows, his lips split into a wide grin of satisfaction.
"So you want me, do you, princess?"
I nod pathetically. He's throbbing, slamming into me hard enough it may draw a third climax in a row.
His laugh is cruel above me, his lips landing on top of mine in a wet, possessive kiss. His tongue fills my mouth, forcing me to take him as the sounds of him fucking me like a depraved animal makes me whine in desperation.
He pulls away, a long string of spit between us connecting our lips.
"Then I'll give you what you want, princess," he says. "But there's a price."
"Uh huh," I agree. My eyes roll back as my body twitches, barely able to focus as he thrusts into me.
"Look at me," he says patiently, tugging my hair once more. When I manage to remember how, he let's out a long 'aw,' smiling down at me with false sweetness as I stare dumbly into his eyes. I suppose I'm staring into his eyes. God, I'm stupid.
His thumb grazes my jaw, tutting as he examines my face closely.
"Your eyes are pretty...*" he says, his voice sweet and tender, almost like I've made him soft and vulnerable, but his cock pounding into me causes the beginning of a headache that won't let me forget how much we hate each other. "Your eyes are pretty, your mouth is pretty..."
I lick my lips and nod lightly.
"You are just such a pretty girl, aren't you?" He asks. I nod, my body twitching uselessly as my third climax washes over me.
"Good girl," he praises. "All fucked out over me. That's good."
Suddenly and without warning, he pulls out quickly and shoves my face down close to his cock, coming all over my face. It's thick and everywhere. In my hair, my mouth. I can't even open my eyes.
"Stay like that," Mike commands as he lays me on my back. His softening cock reenters me and pumps lazily, his purpose to make sure he's fully emptied.
"Any new thoughts?" He asks me in a strange tone, light and amused. I simply moan, relishing the moment. He chuckles and spreads my legs so he can better see what is happening between us. It isn't until I hear the chime of his camera confirming a recording that I realize what he's done.
"Mike?" I ask, barely able to think straight.
A low laugh escapes him, cruel but warm.
"I want to show your new boyfriend the real you," he says. "Make sure we're all on the same page here, right?
no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, exponential, logarithmic, while I gasp for air, scream and see the light, missionary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, doggy, backwards, sideways, upside down, on the floor, in the bed, on the couch, on a chair, being carried against the wall, outside, in a train, on a plane, in the car, on a motorcycle, the the bed of a truck, on a trampoline, in a bounce house, in the pool, bent over, in the basement, against the window, have the most toe curling, back arching, leg shaking, dick throbbing, fist clenching, ear ringing, mouth drooling, ass clenching, nose sniffling, eye watering, eye rolling, hip thrusting, earthquaking, sheet gripping, knuckles cracking, jaw dropping, hair pulling, teeth jitterbug, mind boggling, soul snatching, overstimulating, vile, sloppy, moan inducing, heart wrenching, spine tingling, back breaking, atrocious, gushy, creamy, beastly, lip biting, gravity defying, nail biting, sweaty, feet kicking, mind blowing, bone breaking, world ending, black hole creating, universe destroying, head nodding, soul evaporating, volcano erupting, trembling, sheets soaked, hair drenched, flabbergasting, lip locking, skin peeling, eyelash removing, eye widening, pussy popping, nail scratching, back cuts, spectacular, brain cell desolving, hair ripping, mouth foaming, heavenly, awakening, devils tango ever bro could cause a nuclear bomb inside me and I'd still ride
Meanwhile, on Thor's quest for the infinity stones...
Thor: Loki, I can't find the Earth wizard Stephen Strange and I need to ask him about his special necklace. Do you happen to have a spell that could help me?
Loki: Hang on brother mine.
Loki: *cups hands* STEPHEN STRANGE IS A SECOND RATE MORTAL AND LOKI IS BY FAR SUPERIOR AT SORCERY.
i have a fake son.
his name is Tim and he is working on his M.S. in astrophysics at Berkeley.
he is devestatingly handsome and enjoys rock climbing and volunteers as a counselor at the local YMCA there in Berkeley, California.
i am so proud of my fake son. i have raised him up in my own head to be such an outstanding member of society.
“Tim” is only brought up when asked about by one particular woman at work that i only see on occasion. i don’t make a habit or game of lying to people, but with her, it kinda came about as follows:
Faye is one of those people who has been there/done that and will hang herself on the cross while she tells you how much worse the experience was for her. i’ve seen this woman Kanye West an 8-month pregnant girl at said girl’s own baby shower to glorify the gift she gave her as well as go into how horrible her labor was with her own children. Faye also is a braggart. her car/purse/house/ring/shoes/etc. all cost more than whatever yours did and her children are all angels.
i was forced to work with Faye for 2 days about 5 years ago. she called me Emily a few times before i finally told her my name is Amy, not Emily. she gave me a sideways glance and said, “I like Emily better”, and since then, she has always called me Emily. i let this go because to get angry with her and tell her off is to see her become dramatic and begin crying and insist she did not mean anything by it while not issuing anything close to an apology. Faye is always right, too, you know.
anyway, when she shut up long enough about herself and her fabulous offspring on the second day, she asked, “Do you have any children, Emily?”
i replied that i do not. she then launched into her daughter taking fertility drugs so that she could give her mother grandchildren someday.
that was the only question she asked me until i saw her about a year later.
“Oh, HI, Emily! How are you?!”
“Hi, Faye…how are you?”
“Wonderful, wonderful. Stephen just graduated from UT. He’s going to be the best doctor ever! How is your son, uh, Tim?”
it took me a second. Tim? son? what the hell is she talking about?!
it dawned on me what a complete narcissist she truly is. she hadn’t heard me the day she asked if i had children, because she didn’t care. she didn’t care enough to call me by my real name, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.
i couldn’t stop myself. i briefly thought about correcting her, but i decided to just go with it.
“Tim is doing so well. He was just accepted to Berkeley after his amazing thesis on planetary nebuli. We are so proud of him.”
her eyes grew big. “Oh, how nice! But, Berkeley? That’s so far from home. UT is an excellent school; surely he could’ve been accepted there?…”
i gave a small chuckle. “Oh, well, they wanted him for sure, Faye. I mean, all the letters he received, practically BEGGING him to study there. But, well, they just don’t have a sufficient astronomy department. UT is a fine school, but not for the subject that Tim is going into. Astrophysics is not something you can study just anywhere, you know.”
her eyes narrowed. “Medicine is what these young people should be going into. Astrophysics? What is that, anyway? How will it contribute to the world?”
“Gosh, I don’t really know how to explain astrophysics, Faye. It’s so mind blowing for simple minds like mine and yours. But searching for things in space that could potentially help our planet is a pretty big deal, I think.”
Faye promptly excused herself. i knew i had gotten her.
i’ve bumped into her on and off throughout the past 5 years and she always told me how her angels were saving the world, especially Stephen, and then she’d ask about Tim. and i made sure my Tim was one step above her Stephen. her face would turn crimson and she would have to abruptly leave.
i saw her as i was leaving work yesterday and she stopped me to wish me a happy Easter.
“Stephen is coming home this holiday. He’s bringing his fiance. She’s a doctor too, you know. How is Tim? Don’t tell me he’s still not graduated?…”
“Oh, Faye, don’t be silly! Astrophysics takes YEARS to graduate from. It’s not as simple as medicine. But, yes, he is close to graduating.”
“Is he coming home for Easter? I can’t imagine spending holidays without my children; how dreadful! Oh, but he’s all the way in California…it costs so much to fly here, I assume.”
I grinned. “Yes, it does. But he’s such a sweetheart, he’s flying me out there this year! Taking a break from his studies and humanitarian efforts to have his dear ol’ Mom around for Easter. I’m so lucky!”
“…yes, well, have a nice time, Emily. Happy Easter!”
“You too, Kay! Oh, I mean Faye!”
you know, like i said before, i don’t like to lie. it does seem very silly to have let this go on for so long. Tim has been a fabrication in the making for over 5 years now, he almost feels real to me.
when i see Faye, i have images of my fake son, looking so handsome in his lab coat as he’s peering into a microscope looking at dust particles from a comet. i see him jogging with his dog on the beach. i see him hiking and biking and climbing. i see him helping an elderly woman with her groceries.
it’s a true testament that if you lie, or let a lie go on for a while, it becomes a solid thing that you have to keep up with.
oddly enough, i don’t lose sleep on this lie. i don’t see her often enough to fib about this on a daily or consistent level. Faye never cared anything about me or my life until she had something to try to one-up me on. SHE is the one losing sleep on account of her Stephen not succeeding quite like my Tim. it’s amazing how this lie has eaten her alive and made me feel proud of something that doesn’t even exist…
eh well.
i’ll be boarding the fake plane to Berkeley this afternoon, to celebrate Easter with my fake son.
Mama’s soooo proud of you, Timmy!
