#full disclosure we were playing a drinking game where we took a shot every time they said fuck or every time we cringed

[spooksier]

watched hazbin hotel with friends last weekend and oh my god guys i could feel it turning me into a reactionary conservative ive never gotten so pissed off at a piece of media before. free all those voice actors from their chains.

[stjarnaloki]

This is so random but I had a dream about strip poker and just imagine playing that w/ Loki....I am weak

GIRL. I wish Loki was in my dreams more often. Anyway, this inspired me and here we are 5,000 words later....so sorry it took me so long to respond. school has been insane. emeraldiis, I hope this fic makes you feel a bit better. :)))

Playing His Hand (Loki x. f. reader)

Any readers that know the rules to poker, full disclosure this is a disgrace. I have never played poker in my life. I am truly sorry. I watched like five YouTube videos about how to play it and I tried my best. Hopefully the smut makes up for it. XD

Tease: “Do you want me to keep it inside you all night?” Loki growled into the crook of your neck. “I am a god, my darling, my lust knows no limits.”

CW: 18+, drinking, consensual drunk sex

Tags: Loki smut, belly bulge kink, soft Loki, post-Avengers, Loki redemption ark, Loki is good, loki apologist, #IDKWhatWarCrimes, romantic sex, possessive Loki, breeding kink, porn with plot, buildup

AO3 here

Predictability is rare when you’re an Avenger. Not even Christmas is a guarantee. Aliens don’t exactly observe Christian holidays.

Except one thing.

Tuesdays were game night. If the end of the world fell on a Tuesday, you could bet your ass that the Avengers would work twice as hard to make sure the dust had settled by 9 pm.

It was terribly inconvenient, because Natasha liked to pour the drinks strong and you nearly always had an 8 a.m. meeting on Wednesdays. Unlike your superhero colleagues, you had a desk job, overseen by Tony Stark himself. It paid well, but the work was much less glamorous. Pantsuits instead of Asgardian leather. But Tuesdays, those you looked forward to every single week. The Wednesday hangovers were entirely worth it.

The absurdity of your position blew your mind every week as the completely clear doors of the Stark elevators took you up from your office instead of down. The fact that by a lucky accident, you’d earned yourself a guaranteed weekly invite to an intimate gathering with the only group of vigilantes endorsed by the United States government.

You groaned a little when you got that announcement in your text messages this morning that the game for tonight was poker. You’d played it probably a total of three times in your life, and knew that your dismal skills meant you’d be taking many more tequila shots than you wanted to tonight.

“Oh, my god, it’s my favorite accountant,” said Tony as you swept in through the doors of his penthouse. His cashmere sweater was soft as he swung his arm around you and placed a fizzing cocktail in your hand.

“Tony, I’m in PR,” you replied without a hitch. This was a weekly bit.

“Sure, whatever,” he replied with a wink. “Drink, sweetheart, you’re behind.”

You rolled your eyes but obeyed, downing the vodka soda and motioning with the empty glass for another. Tony set to work making you another at once and you followed him, leaning against the expanse of marble he called a bar.

“Sleeping your way to the top, darling?” a silky drawl said from behind your shoulder.

You snorted as you turned to meet the voice that could only belong to one man. “Excuse me?”

“If I’m not mistaken, that badge says level 34,” the prince said, motioning to your elevator keycard. “I don’t think corporate positions start until level 60. So, forgive me darling, who are you fucking to be here?”

“You wish it was you, don’t you?” you said coolly without a beat, shooting the rest of your second drink as you met his gaze, fearless. “Fuck off, Loki.”

“Oooh hoo hoo…” he whistled from where he leaned on the bar. “Who is it? Really, darling, you can tell me. Is it Stark?” he whispered the last part in an exaggerated fashion. The scorn on your face only seemed to egg him on. “Really, darling, I admire your ambition. Fucking a billionaire is honestly up to my level.”

“Are you sure you want another one?” he continued, watching you flag Tony down for a third drink. “You don’t want to get sloppy in front of the big boss…or do you do that regularly on his-”

“Loki…” you sighed, a peeved grin on your face as you suppressed the rage simmering below the surface. “Hasn’t anyone told you that negging stopped working about a decade ago?”

“No, no, I don’t believe they have. And darling, I think you’ll find it still works wonderfully.”

You begrudgingly knew he wasn’t lying. He was wickedly, cruelly, immorally handsome. Who wouldn’t put up with a little bullying to lay that?

“I think it’s more because women are statistically attracted to broken men,” you replied serenely, the alcohol beginning to make your chest buzz and your blood bolder. “They think they can fix you.”

You saw his eyebrows raise and knew you’d peaked his interest.

“Do you think I need fixing, darling?” Loki mused.

“The whole world watched the consequences of your daddy issues nearly destroy this city live on live TV not that long ago, Loki,” you said, your fingers beating his to his glass, downing the rest of his drink as he watched. You returned the empty glass to him and smiled.

The slight quiver in his upper lip was the only sign he gave that you touched a nerve.

“Like I could have possibly forgotten,” was all Loki grumbled in response, reaching one of his long arms down below the bar and grabbing an entire bottle of whiskey, which he now, you supposed, claimed for himself. You smirked at him.

From the moment your fingers reached for his glass, the foundations were laid. Loki knew what he wanted, and he was drawing the blueprints in his mind.

Loki would never voice these thoughts, but your wit and utter fearlessness of him was making you something he craved beyond belief. You were a challenge to conquer, a prize to covet above all the other possible lovers who caved at his first insult.

When Tony called everyone into the game room, Loki put his hand on the back of your elbow in a kind of possessive courtesy, and you let him, muttering a pre-game insult to only you in such a silky voice that the insult felt like a proposition.

You sat next to him at the table he led you to, not exactly having a say in the matter. Two of Tony’s various men in suits were your other opponents, and you saw their eyes widen in terror as Loki approached. He obviously hadn’t extended an olive branch any further than necessary.

Cards were dealt and another vodka soda was placed in your hand. Loki flashed his green eyes at you, his knee bumping your thigh a few too many times to be accidental. The hours seemed to flick by, your chest growing more flushed under your tight work blouse and the cash in your wallet dwindling.

“Ooh,” Loki hissed between his teeth as you revealed your fourth losing hand in a row.

“Fucking hell,” you groaned.

“Right,” Loki said as he reached for the deck at the beginning of a new round. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his fingers as he worked, long and pale and beautiful. They bent the cards in a perfect arc, letting them fan together once again as he reshuffled. Your eyes glazed over, imagining those fingers sliding into your mouth, coating them with your own saliva as he watched you. How would those wet fingers feel as they circled your nipple, the cool wetness making goosebumps erupt on its delicate skin? And would he gently bite your neck, maybe, -

“Ahem,” Loki coughed. “Did you hear me?”

You jumped a little as you returned to your own body. The man you’d been mind-fucking was trying to get your attention.

“Ha, sorry, what?” you murmured, blinking quickly a few times in his direction to emphasize you didn’t really know what came over you. Still, the corner of his mouth quirked, a display that made your mind feel completely transparent.

“I said, I have a way to make this much more exciting,” his eyes flashed at you. “Would you like to hear it, or have you incapacitated yourself with drink?”

“Hit me,” you replied, and then you snorted. “No pun intended.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “That’s blackjack,” he corrected.

This made you laugh harder.

“How the fuck do you know so much about Midgardian casino games?”

“Darling,” Loki sighed, mock exasperation in his voice. “I’m a thousand years old.”

You stuck your tongue out in an oo look at me face, which made the other two men in suits chortle. Loki huffed as he nimbly fanned cards out to the four of you.

“Right. From now on we bet on clothing.”

The other two gentlemen laughed uncomfortably.

“Strip poker?” you asked deadpanned. “That’s your grand idea?”

“Would you rather continue to lose your paycheck?” he quipped, smirking at you.

“If you think he’s joking, he’s not,” you addressed the two men in suits of whom you hadn’t bothered to learn their names. “He’s a narcissistic, power-hungry god and he’ll probably also make your balls shrivel up if you lose,” you raised an eyebrow at them for extra menace. With a nervous glance at Loki, the two men removed themselves from the table, muttering vague excuses of girlfriends they had to get home to.

Loki tsked, his shoulders deflating exaggeratedly as he looked back at your mischievous smile. “I was having fun with those oafs and you’ve gone and scared them off.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you retorted, but with a smile.

“Darling, you’ll find the depths of my depravity are limitless,” he said smoothly. “Now, winner of the round gets to choose the item of clothing and remove it themselves. Any way they want.” He snapped his fingers, sending a few golden sparks that fizzled where they landed on the green felt. “Fingers. Teeth. Magic. Whatever. Deal?”

You raised your eyebrows at him.

“This seems unfair…” you said skeptically.

“Indeed,” Loki said. “But you don’t seem like the kind of girl to back down from a challenge.”

You shot a nervous glance around the room. It was now past midnight, and the room had emptied out significantly. You and Loki were the only ones still playing, the rest of the stragglers sprawled out on couches, smoking or sleeping. Maybe it was the absence of your boss that made you say yes. Or the sheer amount that you’d had to drink. Or, perhaps, you admitted begrudgingly to yourself, it was the prospect of seeing the wickedly handsome man in front of you naked.

“Fine,” you said, sighing as you put your work blazer back on as an extra layer. “Let’s go.”

“Atta girl,” Loki said, the wholly American phrase landing strangely in his sultry accent. “Ladies first.”

“Shirt, I guess,” you motioned to the green silk shirt Loki was wearing, the top three buttons opened to expose inches of his porcelain chest. It was slutty, really.

“Hmm,” he mused, pulling the first three cards off the deck. So far, all you could make was a pair with the cards on the table. Not a very powerful hand. Still, you kept your face straight, trying your hardest to not think about sucking on Loki’s fingers.

“Call,” you said confidently, nodding at your opponent to continue.

“I see your shirt and raise your pants,” Loki said in a casual tone as he flipped over the next card, though you could have sworn his eyes flashed red.

“Someone’s confident,” you mused. The three of diamonds helped, and you could now make a straight with the cards in your hand.

“I call,” you said boldly, deciding to gamble that Loki’s hand was weaker than yours. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing as he peered at you over his cards.

You both held the bet, and the last card was flipped. Without your shirt and skirt, you would be in nothing but your bra and underwear.

“Right, darling, on three…”

Your hands were revealed. And Loki had a jack, a ten, a king, a queen, and an ace.

You slapped your cards down with a curse as you realized your fate.

“Oh, I’m sorry, love,” Loki purred.

“No you’re not,” you scoffed, blushing at what was about to happen.

“You’re right, I’m not,” Loki said with soft delight. “Come here.”

You felt yourself rise, obeying the gentle command, his seductive voice making the air feel thick. He turned his body to greet you, the expanse of thighs spreading in his chair and your mouth watered, imagining what lay beneath. He positioned you between his knees, his deft fingers skimming the silk of your blouse and his eyes feasting on the way your hair lay perfectly haphazard on your breasts. His stare was a ferocious yearning, so intense that after a long moment you cleared your throat.

“N-not going to snap your fingers this time?” you hated yourself for the shakiness in your voice, a telltale sign that he was getting to you. Lord, he was getting to you.

“No, no,” Loki crooned, as you felt his fingers run the curve of your hips in your pencil skirt. “Undressing a creature like you in such a casual manner would be…uncivilized.”

Your breath whooshed out all at once, your heartbeat rising in your chest and in between your thighs.

Loki started by spinning you around, his grip scanning your curves until he found the zipper of your skirt. He pulled, slowly, his other hand caressing your hip bone. You felt dirty and exhilarated all at once. Tony could walk in at any moment. What would he think to see his friend, let alone trusted employee, whoring herself out to the guy who almost destroyed New York?

You didn’t care. The prospect of humiliation made goosebumps erupt down your arms, a thrill that you couldn’t help but chase.

Your skirt finally fell around your ankles. Loki, surprisingly restrained at the sight of your ass in an intricate lacy thong, spun you around again and worked on your blouse buttons. You noticed how he licked his lips as it fell open, your breasts perched with a slight sheen in the dim glow.

He sucked in a breath as his hands rested on the curve of your waist for a beat. Your eyes met his, the want in your aching core mirrored in his deep green eyes. Neither of you said anything. His fingers trailed slowly down the soft skin of your stomach, tickling in a way that made your skin jump. Then he was dealing another round.

“I want that lovely bra,” Loki announced his initial bet, smiling wickedly and flipping over the first card.

You quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Pants,” you raised him, looking first at your cards. You held a five and a six of diamonds, and your only hope was that the next card was a seven.

“Tough luck, my darling,” Loki purred when your hopes were dashed. He snapped his fingers expectantly, making a little beckoning motion with his hand that drew you between his knees once again. This time, he pulled you down to rest on one of his large thighs, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare back. Two fingers unclasped the lacy cloth of your bra, letting your breasts tumble into the warm lamplight.

You were surprised that being this exposed in a public setting didn’t make you feel shy at all. His eyes felt like spotlights that made the rest of the room fade into the background.

“This completely counts as workplace harassment,” you said without meaning it as you rose to return to your seat.

“No, no, sit,” Loki murmured, his voice as far away as Asgard as he pulled you back down onto his lap. He wasn’t making any effort to conceal his arousal anymore. Your eyes scanned the outline of his semi-hard length pressed against his thigh, a glimmering sensation forming in your lower belly.

“Your room,” you murmured, having to tear your eyes away from his cock as you clutched your cards close to your bare chest..

“That’s not an item of clothing, darling,” he said, low and hoarse. Loki’s eyes looked like they were starving.

“No, it’s a proposition,” you replied, which earned you a silent nod and a smile as he stared at his cards. “I’d rather be fucked like a lady than bent over a gameroom poker table.”

Loki had to readjust where you perched on his thigh, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder before he shifted his straining cock to lie a bit more comfortably down his trouser leg.

“My lady, I didn’t know that was your idea of the endgame,” Loki said, feigning innocence that made you laugh out loud.

“Bullshit. You knew exactly where this would end up,” you said scornfully.

“Truly, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I call,” he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he smirked.

You stretched, your breasts inches from his lips.

“I fold,” you said, sounding purposefully bored, tossing your cards on the table and leaning back so the expanse of your bare breasts were made all the more prominent.

“Conjure me a robe and you can take my panties off with your teeth,” you said slyly. “That was an option, after all.”

“That’s highly unnecessary,” Loki was whispering, barely audible, and then he was moving closer to you, closing the expanse between your lips that was far too wide.

“I win,” he mumbled, and then the world dissolved, no, wait, it actually was dissolving. His tongue licked into your mouth and the two of you were momentarily sucked into some sort of black void that disappeared as soon as it came. Your chair was gone, and you found yourself perched on a tall wooden dresser in what you supposed was Loki’s quarters. The wood was cool on your bare skin. He was pulling you closer to him by the hips, his fingers digging into the plump flesh greedily to feel your heat against his crotch.

The arousal that had been building for over an hour was crashing down upon the two of you. Loki assaulted your mouth with his, the bitter taste of whiskey on his tongue making you moan with every stinging kiss. His scent filled your nostrils as your fingers tangled in his slicked hair, a smoky-sweetness that mingled with expensive aftershave. His hands were everywhere. Stroking your thighs, squeezing your breasts, wrapping around the back of your neck to kiss you deeper. You wanted to bury your face in his chest and live there. But first, you needed him to fuck you.

“L-Loki, I need you to fuck me,” you groaned as soon as your muddled mind produced the thought. Your fingers reached for his trousers, undoing the button quickly and shoving them down so they fell around his ankles.

“No warm-up, princess?” he purred, sucking a bruise onto your neck that made your head fall back in ecstasy.

The pet name made your cunt throb and Loki murmured in approval, feeling the way your body arched down into the wood, trying to gain some friction.

“Babygirl…” the prince tried again as he stroked one gentle finger over your clit through your soaked panties, testing your response. He was just as pleased with the result as you panted harder, your core contracting and your hips bucking towards him involuntarily. “Oh, you like when I call you names, don’t you, shh…” he placed a finger over your lips to stifle a whimper that escaped as he teased your clit some more.

“All this buildup was not necessary,” you panted into his mouth as he consumed your tongue again. “Ah- If you wanted to fuck me you could have just asked.”

“Darling - oh - I can’t resist the thrill of a chase…gods” Loki’s breath hitched as you palmed his cock greedily, trying to tug it free of his boxers. He flicked a lazy finger behind your back and they disappeared, leaving his shining tip standing in tantalizing attention in the dim lamplight.

“Besides…You’re lying…” he moaned as your hand began to pump his length. “You love to be teased. I could hear your heartbeat from the moment I suggested the game - mm-ffuck - isn’t that right babygirl?”

“No…not true…” you groaned, but you were laughing, because it was. The laugh he returned as he caressed your neck took your breath away, an instant of tenderness within this burning lust.

“I don’t know what to do with myself…” he murmured, colliding your tongues once again. “You enrapture me with your words and your wit, and now your body, my lady, it’s far too much…” he took your bottom lip between his teeth and drew back, nipping and pulling just enough to make you exhale into him.

Your eyelids fluttered open when you felt him looking at you again, his green eyes gentler here in the safety of his bedroom.

“Dazzle me with your silver tongue in the morning, Loki, but right now…” you tightened your grip on his cock to make him draw in a sharp breath. “I need you so far inside me that I shatter the mirrors with my screams.”

He made a husky noise in the back of his throat, responding to your request with his hips instead of words. Your panties disappeared in a glimmer of light, in the same movement that his hands were spreading your thighs wide as they could go at the edge of the wooden dresser.

He dragged his hand up your folds, taking the slick that came with it and pumping his length a few times, preparing himself to slide into your entrance.

Then, Loki stopped, grunting in frustration. He’d changed his mind.

Without a word to you, he grabbed both of your calves, swinging your legs over his shoulders and lifting your ass as if you weighed no more than a bag of groceries.

He crossed the room with purpose, backing you into the wall and suspending you there with the full weight of his body.

“The only thing I want you to feel is my cock,” he growled, releasing one hand from your thigh and dragging the head of his cock up and down your dripping entrance. The other arm braced him against the wall above your head. “From now on, I want the only thing you know to be me, my body, my tongue, my cock, my seed.”

“Loki, oh my god,” you cried out, whimpering his name as he licked and kissed your neck again and again, hungrily, like he wanted to taste every inch of your body. His tongue felt like ice and fire at the same time.

“My sweet girl, my enchantress, fuck, how you deserve to be worshiped. Let me show you the extent to which mortal men have failed you. Would you like that?”

In that moment, you understood why entire planets fell at his feet.

“Please…” was your cry for the teasing to end, and he obeyed. He slowly pressed his head into your tight entrance, spreading you open as he pinned you against the wall.

“Ohhh…fuck…” you both groaned in unison, breathing the same breath as your body opened slowly for him. Every inch that he sunk in deeper was a new wave of pleasure splitting you in half, his name the only thing on your lips besides his tongue.

You gasped as the last few inches slipped inside, feeling your stomach bulge where his full length sat inside you. His mouth had fallen open in an O from your tightness, but he resisted thrusting into your warmth so you could adjust to him.

“Y-y-you’re so fucking deep,” you stuttered, your speaking skills failing you in your lust.

“Yeah?” he purred, drawing his hips back achingly slow and pushing forward in a small, teasing thrust. He pressed a hand to your lower stomach where his tip was buried deep as it could go. “Do you feel me right there?” he goaded, licking your bottom lip with his tongue.

“God, y-yes, I feel you, oh, fuck,” you moaned, the increase in pressure from his palm making the full sensation even more intense.

With another grunt, Loki thrusted again. The sound your cunt made around his cock was wet, the results of hours of pent-up teasing gushing from your entrance as he teased. “Mhm, you’re such a good girl, taking all of it for me.”

“F-feels mmfsosogood…” was your nearly incoherent moan as your mouth searched for his.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, babygirl,” Loki panted, still thrusting painfully slow. The ridge of his head was sliding delicately over your g-spot, drawing little moans from your lips with every rock of his hips.

You could only whimper and pull his face closer to yours, wanting every hole of yours to be filled by him. Your tongues tangled together in a moaning mess as Loki pulled himself all the way out, plunging into your cunt again in a sharp thrust, an mmph escaping his lips. You didn’t care that your head crashed against the drywall; you couldn’t feel it anyway. All you knew was Loki’s cock splitting you in half, filling you to the brim until you felt like you’d burst. Your vision went white far too quickly.

“Oh, fuu-uuck, coming already, darling?” Loki’s words chastised you for coming so fast, but his voice was hitching from the rhythmic pulses of your cunt that were squeezing his cock in quick succession. “So greedy,”

This climax came fast and fleeting, almost lazy. Your chest was heaving, your core still tight as it reeled from the punishing assault of Loki’s cock. You whimpered with impatience, needing something better.

“Please, more,” you panted, your nails clawing at his back, willing him deeper.

“Begging looks good on you. My own personal fucktoy,” he mused, unholy words that dripped with lust off his tongue as he impaled you again and again.

“Yes, yes -ah- I am, fucking shit,” you said, your voice hoarse.

His free hand found its way to your throbbing clit and began to massage it with his thumb. This pleasure was sharper, and in combination with his cock wedged inside of you, you felt like you’d explode. You felt your walls begin to tighten again and you screamed his name.

Loki was relentless. He took your screams for what they were; pleading for more. He didn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath from your first orgasm before his cock was pummeling you again. Your first orgasm had left you tighter, your muscles still tense from the pleasure he’d elicited. His thrusts felt fresh and raw against your still-reeling core. Loki’s body responded, pounding into you with a new ferocity you hadn’t felt before.

“Good girl,” Loki said, his voice a snarl, his teeth catching one of your nipples as it bounced in time with his thrusts.

“Do you want me to keep it inside you all night?” Loki growled into the crook of your neck. “I am a god, my darling, my lust knows no limits. I’ll keep you full all night with my cock, princess, do you want that?” There was a feral edge to his voice, a trace of the villain he used to be.

“Oh, Loki…” your cunt was tightening again from the idea of his cock filling you up as you slept, and the fullness you would feel when you awoke the next morning. You were his to use, to keep his massive cock warm, a vessel to carry his pleasure in until he needed you again. The idea sent you tumbling over the edge.

“Loki, oh god, fuck, I’m gonna-I’m gonna come again,” you said, feeling the familiar warmth creeping into your core as he made little maddening circles that made you see stars.

“So soon, darling?” Loki said, trying to keep his voice steady as your walls fluttered in quick succession. “That’s right babygirl, oh, I make you feel so…good…yes…ohhhh…baby…”

Loki’s words felt like a waterfall washing over you as your back arched, eyes rolling into the back of your head. With every word he uttered your cunt squeezed his cock, your orgasm flooding through you like an electric shock. His hips rolled into you gently as you writhed and panted his name, watching you intensely with hooded eyes.

“God, you’re beautiful when you come,” he groaned. “I could fucking live in your cunt.”

“Mmm-” was all you could respond, your chest heaving as you gently came down from your peak. His hips had slowed once you began to shake, two powerful orgasms in such quick succession had taken it out of you. But you could feel his cock begging for release where it lay inside you, twitching and leaking hot precome.

“C-come inside me,” you said between pants. “Fill me up with your come, Loki, please. It’s all I’m missing.”

Loki’s eyes flashed knowingly as he captured your tongue in his mouth. His hips rocked gently once, twice, into you, easing you open once again, picking up speed as he felt you relax around him. He knew exactly what you wanted to hear.

“I’ll come deep inside you, babygirl. Let you watch it drip out around my cock and run down your thighs. Would you like that?” he purred.

“Loki…” you whined. It’s all you’d ever dreamed about. You held his face between your hands, feeling every vein in his cock stroke up and down your over-sensitive cunt. When he spoke, his voice was a feral growl.

“How badly do you want to feel it? So hot and sticky, my darling. You want to feel me explode inside of you, don’t you, my sweet girl? Ah- fuck- You want our juices to mingle together, marking you for the slut you are. Tomorrow I’ll fuck you so hard and -augh- deep and then I’ll make you walk around with my seed leaking out of you, so messy and sticky and dirty that you’ll never forget who you belong to. Your god.”

Your mouth had fallen open into an O, his thrusts sending fresh, powerful waves of pleasure through your spent core. He fucked into you as he showered you with dirty whispers, his forehead resting on yours, the dampness of it the only sign of exertion from holding you up against the wall.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Loki said, his voice almost a whine as he pulled himself nearly all the way out, plunging in again at the last second.

“-Ah- You’re gonna make me come, darling, -fuck-” Loki’s thrusts were growing sloppy and you felt his cock twitch rhythmically with his approaching release.

You nodded greedily, panting into his mouth. You shared breath and spit, sweat and slick, impossibly close to each other.

“Loki, Loki, Loki, please, Loki,” you babbled desperately, his name tumbling off your lips with every roll of his hips. “Come for me, baby, mmm…”

“AUGH–fuck,” Loki gasped with a his final thrust, his moan a high whine as his cock spilled deep within your walls. The warmth you felt from the hot ribbons of come spread as far as your fingertips, making you hum happily as Loki shuddered and shook.

“Thank you,” you whined, laying a hand over your low abdomen where his tip still spurted the last of his release deep into your core. You put a little pressure there with your palm, making him grunt as his breath came in shuddering gasps. When he was spent, he fell forward, forehead coming to rest on yours, his hands cupping the sides of your face. He stayed wedged inside of you for a few long moments, keeping his release stopped up inside of you and tasting your tongue again.

“You’re the one I should be thanking, darling,” Loki said, nuzzling your sweaty neck as he returned to Earth.

Loki reluctantly slid out of you, his cock dripping with both of your juices as he lowered you gently to stand on the floor again. His come flowed down your thighs just as he promised as he helped you get between his silken sheets.

“Let me look at you,” he said lowly, and he spread your legs, shining with his come in the dim light.

“Fucking gorgeous,” he smiled, encompassing your body with his from behind.

Your tongue was thick with exhaustion, cock-drunk and utterly spent from Loki’s pleasure.

“Next week?” you asked him in a croak as he hugged you tighter.

“Tomorrow,” Loki murmured before sleep overtook the both of you.

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[chasholidays]

Yayyyyy Chash thanks so much for doing this! Minty prompt (because of course): Monty falls asleep on Miller on the couch or something, Miller DOES NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO.

happy minty day friends if you don’t like minty come back in 24 hours

Nate is not really convinced about moving in with Monty Green.

On paper, it’s a great idea. Bellamy and Clarke are moving in together, leaving both Nate and Monty without roommates. They have a lot in common and get along, so the two of them were a natural fit. They’re not that close, but they see each other socially and like each other, and finding roommates is a pain. The whole thing checks out, and Nate gets why everyone else is on board.

Really, the only reason Nate isn’t on board is that he likes Monty. In a more than friendly way. And moving in with a guy for whom he has romantic feelings seems like a terrible idea. He can think of roughly ten thousand things that could go wrong, from walking in on Monty in a state of undress to Monty getting a significant other and Nate having to witness them rubbing their noses together and talking about how much they love each other.

The whole thing really is a minefield, but he can’t say that, and he has no other objections, which means that he is, apparently, moving in with Monty Green.

It’s going to suck.

Monty gets them off to a terrible start, too. He and Nate are meeting for coffee and to talk about moving in, and his opening gambit is, horrifically, “So, your place or mine?”

Nate was drinking, and he promptly chokes on it. “What?”

Monty looks stupidly pleased with himself, like he was trying to give Nate a heart attack. “Where are we moving? Your place or mine?”

“Oh, uh. I don’t know. Bellamy and Clarke are getting a whole new place, right?”

“Yeah, they’re downsizing since they don’t need two rooms. So I assume we’ll keep one place and leave the other. I made up a spreadsheet with information about our place,” he adds, turning his laptop so Nate can see it, and it’s honestly fucking unfair, that the guy is this hot and this cute at the same time. “I didn’t have your information, so we still need to fill that in, but I figure that’s the easiest way? Unless you have a strong preference.”

“No, not really. I’d rather not have to move,” he adds, in the interest of full disclosure. “But I figure you don’t want to either, so that’s not a deciding factor.”

“Yeah, if it comes to that we can flip a coin.” He straightens up. “So, do you know the square footage of your apartment off the top of your head, or do you need to look that up?”

“Who knows that off the top of their head?” Nate asks, and Monty shakes his head, like Nate has personally failed him.

“Fine, we’ll figure it out.”

After about a half an hour, they’ve discovered that Monty and Clarke’s apartment is both objectively better than Nate and Bellamy’s and also still financially realistic for them to keep, and there’s really no arguing with cold hard facts. Nate flops back in his chair with a sigh.

“So, I’m moving in with you.”

“Unless you have other objections.”

You’re cute, he thinks, but all he says is, “Nope. The math checks out.”

“Cool. So, we can do moving details over email? I assume it depends on when Clarke moves out and stuff. But it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Said like the guy who doesn’t have to move,” Nate grumbles.

Monty grins. “Just like that.” And then, horribly, his smile softens, making Nate’s stomach twist. “Seriously, I’m looking forward to living with you.”

He would be a monster if he did anything except smile back. “Yeah, me too.”

*

“Still hate your life?” Bellamy asks, when he gets back.

“Fuck you, this is your fault.”

“That good, huh?”

“You’re moving in with the girl you’re in love with and deserting me to–”

“Live with a guy you have a thing for. Yeah, I’m a monster. Seriously,” he adds. “You’re going to be fine.”

“You can’t make me,” Nate mutters, and Bellamy, wisely, doesn’t argue.

*

Of course, living with Monty is fine. It takes some getting used to, obviously, the same way new housing situations always do. Bellamy had a long list of quirks, which Nate eventually got used to, and now he just has to readjust to Monty’s new quirks. He keeps weird hours and sometimes doesn’t remember to control his volume when he yells at the TV, but those are eccentricities that Nate doesn’t mind. Honestly, they’re kind of bonuses. Shit like that is why he likes Monty in the first place.

If there’s a problem, it’s with Monty’s mild narcolepsy.

Okay, Nate knows it’s not really narcolepsy. He is aware that that’s a diagnosable thing and Monty doesn’t have it, as far as he knows. He’s just a napper. Like, a chronic napper. He can and will fall asleep at the drop of a hat, and this is something Nate has to deal with. Monty, curled up on the couch or with his head down on the kitchen table, sometimes actually on the floor, sleeping in a sunbeam like a fucking cat.

“Seriously,” he says, the first time that one happens. “Is this an actual medical condition? Have you checked?”

“Nope, just a lifestyle choice,” says Monty, stretching so his shirt shows off a few inches of firm stomach. “Sorry, I know it’s weird. Clarke had trouble with it too.”

This is an intriguing statement. Nate likes Clarke—he can’t help liking anyone who makes Bellamy so happy—but he can’t really imagine living with her. He feels like she’d be kind of neurotic.

So the next time the four of them are out, he says, “So, Clarke. Monty’s sleeping thing.”

“Oh wow,” she says. “Already? It took, like, months before he started falling asleep everywhere with me.”

“You helped me come to accept and love myself,” Minty tells her, and Clarke rolls her eyes.

“Oh good. Yeah, it’s weird,” she adds, to Nate. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“There’s nothing to tell!” says Monty. “I get sleepy. I’m good at power naps. It started in college. I would be in the computer lab coding and just sleep hard for fifteen minutes and feel so much better.”

“And now that’s how you live your life?” Bellamy asks, dubious.

“If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”

“I think passing out on our floor might count as being broke,” Nate says.

“On the floor?” Clarke asks. “Really?”

“On the carpet! It’s very plush.”

“So I’m going to get used to this,” Nate says, and Clarke shakes her head.

“If he’s passing out on the carpet, he might be getting worse.”

“I can stop any time I want to,” says Monty. “I just don’t want to.”

Nate tries not to smile, but it’s ridiculous. And just a little cute.

“Well,” he says. “As long as you can stop.”

*

It doesn’t become a problem, not really, until Monty starts falling asleep on him.

It’s the natural next step, so he’s not sure why he’s so surprised, except that Monty falling asleep on him is the kind of thing he is incapable, on any level, of really thinking about, so he probably just blocked it out of his mind. It was easier to not let himself consider that he might be Monty’s next horizontal surface.

Not that it’s exactly like that, of course. It’s not as if Monty comes into his bedroom and falls asleep on top of him. But Nate’s been really into Horizon Zero Dawn, and Monty’s been watching him play, giving him advice and offering commentary. It’s a great way to spend his evenings with only a little romantic frustration, because he’s too focused on the game to really have time to think about how much he likes Monty.

Moving in together has done absolutely nothing to kill his crush, which doesn’t even make sense; surely one of Monty’s bizarre personal habits should have been a deal breaker.

He notices Monty getting quieter as the evening progresses, but he assumes, foolishly, that Monty will fall asleep the other way. There’s a whole half of the couch Nate isn’t on. He can use that part.

Instead, he slumps onto Nate’s side, and Nate’s entire brain shorts out for a long moment. It’s not like it’s that intimate. Monty’s asleep on his shoulder. He’ll probably drool.

So he fishes out his phone and texts Clarke: Did he ever fall asleep ON you

Unless she’s getting laid, Clarke basically always texts back instantly, which is one of those things Nate was happier not knowing. Luckily, the dots appear almost immediately, so at least he’s not thinking about how Bellamy is having sex while he’s trying not to freak out about Monty.

Clarke: NopeBellamy and I talked about itWe think this might be personal

Me: tf does that mean

Clarke: It seems like he’s really comfortable with you

Me: Bellamy told you

Clarke: Bellamy didn’t have to tell meYou guys are really obvious

Me: Both of us?

Clarke: He’s the one who’s sleeping on youBellamy wants a pic btw

Nate holds the phone up, lining up the shot carefully. He does it in Snapchat, so he can try a couple versions, and saves the one with no caption for himself.

Then he adds tfw your roommate thinks you’re a pillow and sends it to Clarke and Monty.

Me: Tell Bellamy to get on Snapchat if he wants pics

Clarke: He says he’ll get on Snapchat in hellWhich autocorrected back to he’ll like fifteen timesYou guys are cute

Nate: Yeah we are

*

You make a good pillow, Monty texts the next morning, while Nate is on the train to work, and he does his best not to smile.

*

Once Monty has fallen asleep on something without incident, it gets added to his rotation, and Nate is no exception. Suddenly, Monty is drifting off on him all the time, during movies, after work, one time just in the middle of the afternoon while Nate was reading. He puts his head in Nate’s lap and sighs contentedly and is dead to the world for twenty minutes while Nate quietly freaks out.

Bellamy and Clarke remain convinced this is a sign Monty wants to date him, but Nate can’t get there. It just makes no sense to him. He wants to date Monty and overthinks every single interaction; Monty just passes out like it’s nothing. There’s no way he could just fall asleep on Monty. He’s tried, even. When Monty falls asleep on him, he’ll sometimes try to lean back into it, to drift off himself, but he’s not wired like that. He’s never been good at taking naps, even when he’s not trying to cuddle with his crush and his brain won’t just shut up and let him enjoy it.

Which leaves him back almost exactly where he started, except his unrequited crush on Monty just gets worse and worse, as he knew it would. He didn’t see all of this coming–there’s no way he could have predicted the sleeping situation–but the basic outline is as he knew it would be. He likes Monty, and Monty is around all the time, which makes him like Monty more, and it’s a vicious crush cycle he knew would end up making him miserable.

But it’s the good kind of misery. The kind he doesn’t actually want to give up. But at the same time, he knows the whole thing is building to a breaking point. It’s inevitable, because that’s how feelings work. If they don’t go away, they have to come out. And there is still some small, stubborn part of him that hopes. Monty likes guys; Monty likes him. He might not have a huge, embarrassing crush like Nate does, but that doesn’t mean he might not be interested in trying something out.

This would probably be a good way to present the issue, and Nate wishes he’d gone with it.

Instead, Monty wakes up from a nap in his lap one Saturday afternoon and smiles at him, all warm and sleepy, and Nate jumps up like he’s been scalded to keep from kissing him.

Monty frowns, adjusts his glasses, cocks his head. “Uh, everything–”

“You have to stop doing that.”

The frown deepens. “Stop doing what?”

“I don’t care if you sleep on the floor, but you can’t sleep on me.”

“Oh,” he says, and now he looks hurt, and fuck Nate’s entire life. “Sorry, I didn’t know it bothered you.”

Nate lets out a breath. “That’s not–it’s not what you’re thinking.” Monty cocks his head, there’s no getting out of it. “I like you, okay? Like–like you. It’s not a big deal, but I need you to not–”

“No, it’s a big deal,” Monty says, but there’s a grin growing on his face, and the tension in Nate’s chest slowly uncoils. “We really can’t just breeze past that, that’s–”

“You’re going to need to tell me if it’s good news before you go any farther.”

“Great news,” says Monty, and then they’re kissing, and Nate’s brain finally shuts the fuck up.

*

“This is weird,” Nate remarks, that night.

“What’s weird?”

“You’re falling asleep on me in a bed. Like a normal person.”

“I sleep in a bed every night,” Monty says, curling himself around Nate. It’s possibly stupid to move as quickly as they are, but it’s not like this hasn’t been building for both of them. Monty’s liked him too, this whole time.

It’s pretty awesome.

“I’m just saying, this is a new one for me.”

“Whatever,” says Monty, closing his eyes. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I guess I will,” he agrees.

Honestly, he can’t wait.