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*Updated on 4/17/2024
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***Posted on 4/17/2024****
• Be a Man {3655 words} - Reader and Loki get into a brief argument after reader is cat-called on a mission. Reader watches “Mulan” to cheer up and Loki decides he has another way to cheer you up.
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synopsis: stranded in a one-room safe house overnight with Loki, you learn the consequences of teasing him.
pairing: Loki x female reader (sexual / romantic)
word count: ~6700
cw: swearing, tickling, making out, closed-door sex, innuendo and other sexually-charged exchanges, light bondage (with magic), less romance more fwb vibe? you be the judge
minors dni: this fic does not contain smut, but does contain steamy moments and closed-door sex between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.
note: horniest I'll ever be on main. future smut will be posted on nevermath.tumblr.com
The escape craft was some older thing. Ancient and rickety, by SHIELD standards. Definitely not built for an ice-storm.
You can't remember the last time you felt so unsafe in the air - and that included a handful of situations involving heat-seeking missiles, plummeting free-falls, and one especially memorable brush with a Chitauri cannon.
The turbulence knocks the controls hard to the left, you wrestle them back with a grunt, jaw tight, adrenaline burning under your skin. A flick of your eyes towards your passenger seat makes your blood pressure spike for an entirely different reason.
Loki looks bored.
Actually... worse; he looks vaguely amused.
He's lounging, one leg crossed over the other, hands steepled in his lap. Not a single hair out of place, nor muscle braced. Whether that means he trusts you to fly safely out of this storm, or simply doesn't care whether the damn thing goes down in flames, you're not sure. You don't ask.
You don't want the answer.
So when the radar pings a safe-house just a hundred clicks off-course, you make a hard turn toward it with zero apology.
The landing is rough. Metal groans as the craft slams down on a barely-visible patch of ice-washed earth. But she holds. Barely.
You unbuckle fast, tossing Loki a look over your shoulder. "Hope your highness can handle a night in a little mountain shack."
His brow raises. His smirk is slow, knowing.
You don't give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. You just shove the hatch open and duck out into the freezing sleet with a scoff.
You'd never usually leave a craft in the open like this, but the visibility is shit and the airspace is fucked; no one will be flying overhead - not even the combatants that'd been pursuing you fifty-odd clicks back.
The safe-house cabin appears like a ghost out of the storm, flickering through thick sheets of sideways rain. You reach the door, slap your hand on the bio scanner, and hear the click of the lock just as Loki falls into step and you both slip out of the weather.
The door shuts with a solid thud - and for the first time in hours, silence rings.
Peace. Safety.
Both of you stand still, breathing hard. You're not sure if it's the cold or the tension. Maybe both.
But it’s tranquil in here. Nice, even. Far from a little mountain shack.
You step further in, the dim lights automatically fading on, and you glance at the windows, which seem to be holding tight against the icy rain lashing against them. Wind howls through the trees and scratches at the glass like a leopard's claws, but the place seems solid.
No sooner had you stepped in further did thunder crack so close it felt like the gods were arguing just over the mountain-
Wait...
"That's not your brother, is it?" You look at Loki over your shoulder, half-joking.
You're almost soaked-through from the dash, a chill threatening to settle into your bones, but you notice that, though isolated, the safe-house isn't freezing. The lights are low and warm, casting the room in comforting haze. It feels luxurious; hardwood floors, thick rugs, a fireplace in the centre of the wall, opposite to the kingsized bed draped in earth-coloured linens and furs and- wait. Fuck.
Bed. Singular.
You look around and quickly confirm the sheepish feeling sinking into you. This is a studio. Designed for one. Or for a couple.
Who... the fuck decided that only one bed was appropriate for safe house?
Instead of making it a big deal, you declare, "I'm going to shower to warm up."
Loki looks to the stone mantle and says "I'll make a fire."
But as soon as the word fire leaves his lips, the empty cavity hisses to life, flames beginning to spark and build. You bite your lip as Loki scowls.
"Spooky," you tease, twirling your finger to the ceiling. "The cabin must be haunted by helpful ghosts."
Loki swings that scowl on you, but softens it. "We do also have technology on Asgard, you smug little goblin."
You smirk and turn on your heel. "You keep calling me things like that and I'm gonna think you’re flirting."
"I am," he calls after you.
You don't dignify it with a reply. You also don't stop smiling as you close the bathroom door.
The bathroom, and the shower itself, match the quiet wealth of the rest of the place. Such a shame, you think as you let your shoulders ease under the spray, that this place must be empty most of the time. It's exactly the kind of place you can imagine yourself... being. Just relaxing, letting go. Preferably alone, considering the one-bed situation.
Your stomach pings in a cluster of nerves as you lather the fig and sandalwood suds over your skin, trying to scrub the tension from your shoulders - tension that, annoyingly, has less to do with the mission and more to do with the god in the other room.
Loki is… a menace. Not just in the field. Not just in battle. But here. In the quiet. In the glances. In the way he looks at you like he’s already peeled your thoughts apart and likes what he sees.
The bed is big, and it's not like you'd mind sharing it with Loki - you'd known since the first time you worked with the God of Mischief that you'd likely fall into bed together at some point or another - but this... it feels forced. Like two dolls some child is guiding into a kiss.
Soon you're standing in front of the mirror, brushing your teeth, wiping a path through the fog on the glass to look yourself in the eye and coach yourself mentally, as if you were a child: just because you're under the same covers does not mean you will have sex with him.
You feel your cheeks warm as you realise that Loki probably isn't thinking about any of this. At all. Even though he makes no efforts to hide his physical attraction to you, that doesn't mean he's... wanting, in the same way you are.
Besides, he's your mission partner. Your headache. Your shadow in the field. The beautiful thorn in your side when you're not under fire. Taking it further could make it messy.
You throw on some standard-issue lounge clothes; socks, underwear, sweat shorts, tank top, and a cloud-soft sweatshirt, all found in the bathroom's linen cupboard that must contain at least two dozen different size options.
When you walk back into the main area, the warmth instantly seeps into your skin like a gentle summer evening. One deep breath, and you've eased further.
Loki looks up from the couch where he's lounged with his head against the headrest, hands folded over his stomach. He's still in his tac gear.
"There's a change of clothes in there," you nod to the bathroom.
Loki's eyebrow lifts. In a slow pulse of green, his clothes change into a softer, yet seemingly still tailored, all-black set that covers his limbs entirely. It looks too good for something summoned out of spite. "Over my dead body," his eyes rake over you, critical on the surface, heated underneath.
With a roll of your eyes you make your way to the bed. "I'm tired," you say, seeing it in his eyelids. "Ready to sleep?"
"I'll tend to my needs and then take my rest here." He stands and heads towards the bathroom.
"Loki," you put a little casual laugh in your voice. He stops and turns his head. "The bed's huge. We can share it."
He doesn't say anything for a moment, and you're worried you've fucked it. That you've been presumptuous. That he's going to say something about how he'd rather die than share sheets with the likes of-
"Very well," he tilts his head in agreement, barely looking at you before he closes the bathroom door.
Internally, you're screaming. Outwardly, you're pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes, wondering if there was any possible way you could've made it more awkward.
You hear the shower spray and try to think about anything other than him in here.
Whatever. Whatever. You take a breath through your nose and slip under the sheets. The lights are still dim. You narrow your eyes, and test the cabin, saying "it's time to sleep."
The lights dim to nothing, the fire pulls back from roaring to gently crackling, creating a cozy atmosphere that's calling you to sleep. But the second you settle in, you get that sinking gut feeling that sleep isn't going to come easy. Your limbs are tired, your eyelids heavy, but your mind is still buzzing with adrenaline.
You're staring at the ceiling when Loki reenters, crosses the room, and slides into the sheets on the other side of the bed. And sure, the bed is big, but he's still less than an arm's length away. You didn't realise how close you'd feel until he was there.
"Sweet dreams," you say with a subtle teasing lilt to try and disguise your nerves, eyes still on the ceiling, fingers playing with the hem of your sweatshirt.
You hear his head turn to look at you. Hear a small, faintly amused puff of air through his nose. "Try not to dream about me too vividly. I don’t want to wake to you whimpering." He turns, back to you, and settles in.
You bite your lip, the heat returning tenfold, but you chuckle. “Who's the smug little goblin now."
In an effort to get the adrenaline out, to help your mind complete whatever it feels it needs to, you start replaying the mission in your head. Every bullet, every chase, every snarky little jab Loki threw at you in that seductive voice, every- ... oh shit.
You almost forgot.
You press your smiling lips together, suppressing the giggle threatening to betray you. But it slips out anyway - a little puff of laughter in the dark.
That moment. The one that sent you over the edge.
Loki shifts beside you. "Don’t start," he warns. His words are a blade being drawn from its sheath.
“I didn’t say anything," you retort, now openly grinning at the ceiling.
"You thought it," he snips. He knows exactly what you're thinking about and hates it already.
You roll onto your side to face him, arm tucked under your head. "I'm just remembering a moment from today. A glorious one."
He exhales through his nose. "You truly have a death wish."
You grin wider. "You ate shit so hard on that slippery boulder."
The silence between you stretches like wire. Taut. Dangerous.
You keep going anyway.
"One second you’re monologuing, all broody Asgardian menace - 'You dare challenge me?' - and the next? Boom. Legs in the air. Splashdown."
You can feel the heat rising from his side of the bed. His magic pulses just faintly through the room. Static before a lightning strike.
"If you were wise you'd shut your mouth," he says darkly, "before I'm forced to shut it for you."
You laugh again - quieter this time, taunting. "Oh yeah? What’s the plan - another lecture about respect?" You prop yourself up on an elbow, searching the air for more sass. "Or... just another bout of empty threats and semi-inappropriate workplace banter?"
Loki turns. Slowly. He shifts to mirror you - rising on one elbow, lifting his face so you can see him in the flicker of firelight.
And fuck... he looks dangerous like this. Hot and dangerous. Hair damp and curling at the ends, shadows cutting beneath his cheekbones, pale blue eyes locked on you like you’re something he’s actively backing into a corner.
He tilts his head, and, with a devastating sweetness, he says, slowly, "Tease me again, and I’ll put you on your back and tickle you until you sob."
You blink. "Huh-what?"
Loki leans in just slightly - close enough that his breath ghosts over your mouth. "You heard me. One more snide little comment and I'll have you writhing. I will take my time. And you will not know mercy."
Your brain flatlines. Your mouth parts. You should say something sharp - should snap back, keep the banter going - but your body betrays you with a single thud of heat low in your stomach.
He sees it.
Of course he fucking sees it.
Loki's eyes narrow and you know - you know he’s cataloging every flinch, every breath. "It's the perfect punishment, wouldn't you agree?" he continues softly, dangerously. "Intimate, humiliating… leaves no mark. You won’t run to your beloved Captain Rogers with bruises. Just memories you can’t scrub off."
Your throat’s dry. You manage a single nervous chuckle. "You wouldn’t."
He smirks like the mischief he is. "We both know I would."
You go quiet.
Dead quiet.
Because the worst part is, you don't know whether you want him to or not.
And Loki - bastard that he is - sees that, too. He leans back slowly, satisfaction dripping from every hard line of his body as he settles into the pillow again.
You lie there, heart pounding, every nerve on fire. The storm still rages outside, but now it's got competition.
Loki chuckles deep and low, and it feels like thunder cracking beneath your skin.
"Wise choice," he murmurs.
And fuck, you hate him.
You hate him.
Well... no.
You don't hate him.
And you hate that you don't hate him.
You shift under the covers, giving an exaggerated sigh as you turn away from him. "Jeez. You're so fucking dramatic," you mutter under your breath.
A mistake.
"Oh, you poor little fool."
A catastrophic mistake.
Before you can even suck in another breath, his magic crackles through the air. It's an electric, humming snap that raises the fine hairs on your arms a second before you feel it.
The pillowcase under your head moves. It slides off the cushion with a treacherous slither, wrapping itself around your wrists with a speed and precision that makes your stomach drop. You jerk instinctively, but it's too late - your hands are caught, ensnared, pinned above your head, wrists bound together tight enough to be secure but loose enough to tell you this is a game.
His game.
You barely manage a grunt of protest before Loki’s hands are on you - turning you onto your back in a fluid, almost lazy motion, like he’s not even trying. His fingers are wickedly strong around your waist, holding you down just long enough for him to shift, knee pressing between your legs, swinging himself up until he straddles your hips.
You struggle, wild and panicked, kicking your legs and jerking your torso, but you’re half-covered in blankets and utterly unprepared for a fight - in soft sleepwear, no armour - and he’s bigger, heavier, faster, magical.
You buck hard, trying to dislodge him, but all it earns you is a low, infuriating chuckle from above.
"Is this truly the best you can fight?" he purrs, tightening his grip just enough to remind you who’s in charge.
"Fuck you," you scowl, jerking your hands against the bonds.
"Rude." He tsks, smirking down at you, his hips pinning yours to the bed with effortless control. "And after I warned you so nicely."
You twist again, but it's useless. You’re stuck. Fully at his mercy.
And the worst part?
You can feel the slow, deliberate shift of his body against yours - his thigh pressing against your bare skin, the long line of him caging you in - and it sparks heat low in your gut that has nothing to do with rage.
"You can’t seriously - Loki, come on," you start, trying to wriggle your wrists free, but the enchanted fabric tightens at his will, dragging a frustrated, helpless sound from your throat. "This is stupid and dramatic. You proved your point, now let me go."
He just tilts his head, studying you like a cat might study a bird fluttering with a broken wing.
"Tell me," he murmurs, voice dangerously low as he settles further, "did you really think that would go unpunished?"
His hands start inching forward.
You glare. "I really think you’re a dickhead."
His eyes gleam, a spark of delight dancing at the edges. "Mm. Defiant. I expected nothing less."
His fingers descend like vipers, darting straight for your sides, and the second they make contact... fuck.
You jerk so violently the bed frame gives a protesting creak.
You arch instinctively, breath hitching, but you refuse to laugh. Refused to give him the satisfaction.
"Nothing?" he muses, leaning closer, eyes flaring in delight. "Oh, you’re going to be so fun."
You twist under him, trying to wriggle free. The pillowcase tightens slightly in response. You grit your teeth as he drags his fingers up and down your ribs with merciless precision.
You hold on, digging your heels into the mattress, biting your bottom lip hard. His touch is devastating. Too practiced. Light one moment, firm the next, zeroing in on your most sensitive spots with surgical precision.
And still, you don't laugh.
Until-
"Ah," Loki says softly. His fingers found it - a spot just beneath your left rib, sensitive as hell, one you hadn’t even known would betray you.
Your body jolts. A tiny gasp escapes your throat. Then, like a damn cracking, a laugh punches from your lungs.
Triumphant, Loki’s smirk deepens - not cruel, not quite - something darker, warmer. Endeared, even. And utterly smug.
"There it is," he whispers, tilting his head. "I knew you’d be a screamer."
You flush, full-body and furious. "I hate you," you huff through gritted teeth, breath coming fast.
He clicks his tongue. "Then you’ll loathe what comes next."
And then he really begins.
You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst with laughter, loud and sharp, your body trembling wildly beneath his tickling hands.
And gods, he’s good at it - depravedly good. His fingers dance, spider-light one moment, then digging mercilessly the next, zeroing in on every little vulnerable spot like he’s been studying you for months.
Which he probably has, the bastard.
You shriek again, trying to twist away, but his weight on your hips keeps you absolutely pinned.
"You should’ve held your tongue," Loki drawls, his voice maddeningly calm over your frantic squirming. His voice drops. "Gods, you’re responsive."
"I swear I'm gonna get you for this- SHIT!" you gasp out between bursts of helpless, writhing laughter, but the threats fall flat - your voice breaking with each choked, humiliating giggle he wrings from you.
"You’re welcome to try," he murmurs, dragging one hand from your side up under your sweatshirt to your underarm, circling lightly where the skin’s thinnest, most sensitive.
You convulse so hard under him you nearly tip him sideways, but Loki handles it easily, smirking like this is all beneath him - like your thrashing and desperate yelps are just entertainment.
He skims the pads of his fingers lightly over your stomach, watching with lazy amusement as you shudder uncontrollably.
You kick your legs, trying to knee him, but he just rides out the bucking like he’s enjoying it, settling heavier against you with a rough grind of his hips that makes your brain white out for a second - makes you way too aware of how warm he is. How solid.
"You are such a dick," you gasp, breathless.
"No," he grins. "I’m your reckoning."
You whimper - actually whimper - as he attacks your sides again, fast and brutal, forcing desperate laughter out of you until you’re gasping between giggles, your whole body arching and twisting under him.
Loki only hums thoughtfully, shifting his weight slightly so his hips press more firmly against yours - deliberately - and the new friction is a whole fresh hell you’re not prepared for.
Heat spikes through you, brutal and wanted, mixing with the overwhelming sensation of his hands tormenting your skin.
He sees it.
Of course he fucking sees everything.
And the bastard has the audacity to smile wider. Slow, wolfish, knowing. His fingers skitter up your sides again, sending you into another fit of helpless, humiliating giggles.
"Fuck! This is so messed up-"
"You could have avoided this," he drawls, utterly unbothered. "All you had to do was keep that clever little mouth shut."
You grit your teeth, trying to focus. "This- this is petty. This is some villain-ass shit. No wonder Thor used to kick your ass when you were younger."
"Oh?" he says, digging his fingers against the fabric covering the soft space under your arms, dragging a laugh straight from your lungs. "You want to talk about childhood trauma now? In the middle of this? How very Avenger of you."
You throw your head back and laugh through gritted teeth, managing a whiny: "I really hate you."
He laughs. "You wish." His hands dive back to your sides.
"I wait- Loki- okay please!" you gasp, twisting hard, but the pillowcase tightens again, holding your wrists captive.
"Oh, now you beg?" Loki teases, fingers squeezing at your waist until your whole body bucks. "Where was this charming submission before?"
You shake your head wildly, laughing so hard your ribs hurt, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Every time you think he’s about to let up, he switches tactics - light teasing along your stomach, a wicked squeeze at your hips, brutal tickling up your ribs again until you’re choking on helpless giggles.
He finds the hollow just above your hip bone and presses - firm and slow.
You squeal. Actually squeal.
He grins wider.
"Oh, you sweet thing," he purrs. "I could do this all night."
You swear at him in every language you know.
He just chuckles darkly, slow and satisfied, like he’s feasting on your misery.
"Say you’re sorry."
You growl through clenched teeth, body trembling from the effort to wrench free.
"Never."
He pauses. Cocks a brow.
Then he leans down. Slowly. Until his nose brushes yours.
You take a shuddering breath in, still panting, now caught in a frantic freeze state. Like your base animal instincts are twisted into some weird belief that if you don't move he won't see you.
"Never?"
Your heart flutters at his low, commanding voice. The pure heat in it, so obviously intentional.
The pads of his fingertips and the faint graze of his blunt nails tease along the bare skin where your tank has ridden up. Your fingers tighten around the pillow case.
"Then I suppose..." he starts, sliding his hands higher. Palms smoothing against your sides, fingers trailing, taunting.
"You and I..." You feel the curve of his grin in his voice. "...will be here a very… very long time.”
You gasp when you feel his fingers press against the bare skin of your lowest ribs. "N-n-no-nnn-!"
But your protests are swallowed in laughter. Drowned in gasps and cackles. You're out of breath, out of threats, out of any form of resistance.
Loki's dark chuckle sings against your ear. Sends tiny sparks of pleasure down the skin of your neck.
And he keeps going - meticulous and devastating - drawing it out until you’re breathless, boneless, wrists still trapped high above your head, body burning with exertion and heat and something darker, something hotter, curling low in your belly and spreading like wildfire.
"Okay- okay okay!" You squeak, some high and helpless whine in the back of your throat. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry- please stop it!"
Loki finally slows, dragging one last, maddening trail up your side that makes you jerk involuntarily.
He sits back, straddling your hips lazily, surveying you. Admiring his work. His hair is wild around his face, his eyes bright with wicked satisfaction, incandescent with smug delight. His gaze stays locked on you, drinking in every breathless tremor.
You glare up at him, chest heaving, cheeks burning, completely at his mercy - and the way he looks at you, the way you feel under his hands... you can't show it.
"That..." you pant, "was an egregious HR violation."
"Oh dear," Loki rolls his eyes. "The paperwork."
"Oh, I'll show you fuckin' paperwork-"
"What shall it say, darling? How will you explain this? I'm so terribly fascinated by the prospect of our little tryst becoming immortalised in public record."
"That was not a tryst that was an attack and - hey, fuck you, untie me - it was uncalled for."
Perfectly in time with the raising of his brow, the pillowcase around your wrists loosen. But Loki makes no effort to get off you.
And you make no effort to push him off, even as you prop yourself up by the elbows, chin tilted back to look him in the eye.
"Poor thing," he soothes. And with that teasing edge, there's a softness. A devastatingly gentle thread of temptation laced through his voice. His smirk. His sheer fucking audacity.
He cocks his head to one side, pushing the damp curls back from his face, regarding you with a lazy challenge. "Was the big bad God of Mischief too hard on you?"
You lower your brow and pout, "Yes."
His head turns the other way. His smirk is devastating. "Do you need me to kiss it better?"
Every bit of heat in your over-exerted body goes to one of two places, and your lips part with a puff of air, almost like you'd been winded.
That small, insecure part of you whispers that this is a cruel trick. That he's having you on. He doesn't mean it, he-
Fuck.
Your breath hitches when the back of his hand finds your lower stomach. Your fists tighten as he trails his knuckles along the soft, exposed skin, his eyes not leaving yours. You swallow. He lifts a brow. A quiet question.
Your tongue slips out to wet your drying lips. "Maybe."
It's pitiful, but it's the only word you think you can say without it wobbling and-
Loki's shaking his head, shifting backward, lower. "I need a yes."
"Yes, then."
"And a please."
"Go fuck yourself."
He chuckles. "So sulky. What am I going to do with you?"
But before you can answer, his lips meet bare skin. Your back arches when his mouth brushes low across your stomach, just above the waistband of your shorts. He’s barely kissing - it's more breath than lips - but every exhale is warm and deliberate, as if he's savouring the feel of your skin against his mouth.
"You’re far too brazen for someone so soft," he murmurs. His fingers press just beside your hipbone, not quite pinching, not quite tickling, just enough to make your thighs twitch and your breath catch. "So easily undone, and still mouthing off."
His lips trail a slow line across your abdomen, kissing deliberately, as if each inch deserves reverence. Then- a single puff of air against your navel, followed by a nip of his teeth that makes your hips jerk.
You yelp. "Hey!"
He grins against your skin. "Thought you'd lost your voice for a moment."
The muscles of his shoulders dance under his shirt as he slowly pulls himself higher, chest brushing yours, hands planted by your head as he mouths a trail down your neck, grazing his teeth along the slope of your collar. Just enough to make your skin sing.
He lowers himself onto you carefully, hands dragging down your sides again, this time with full intention. His palms cup your waist, pulling you up into him.
The friction is electric.
Your chest heaves, thighs trembling under the weight of him - and he takes his sweet, unhurried time, moving over you like a storm in slow motion. He kisses the erratic pulse beneath your ear, nips, soothes, nudges his nose against your neck as your fists curl in his hair.
Your breath stutters when he finally pulls back enough to look at you.
Hair wild, breath shallow, eyes locked on yours like he wants to memorise every flicker of thought passing behind them.
He dips lower.
This time, his lips ghost over yours.
Once.
Twice.
Not kissing you. Not yet. Just tasting the shape of your mouth with his breath, taunting the final inches that separate you.
"Ask me," he murmurs, so soft you almost miss it.
Your jaw flexes.
"No."
He gives a dark chuckle. The sound brushes your lips. "Still so proud. Even now."
You glare, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.
He leans in again, mouth brushing yours. "You want me."
Your breath catches.
"You want me," you retort.
He smirks. Hums. Kisses the corner of your mouth.
Just once.
Then the other.
Teasing. Gentle. Laying claim with infuriating grace.
You feel your eyes flutter.
He lingers. Breath to breath. Lips agonising close to yours.
"Say it," he breathes.
And you can’t anymore.
You’re done pretending.
"Just-... kiss me," you rasp.
And Loki does.
Not rough. Not possessive.
Deep. Measured. Devastatingly thorough.
His mouth moves over yours with patience, with precision, like he wants to map every gasp you give him and drag them out for his own pleasure.
You groan into it before you even know it’s happening.
Your hands twist in his hair as he deepens the kiss, tongue teasing your bottom lip before claiming more, drawing it out, savouring the moment like a rare vintage.
You kiss him back harder.
Because gods help you, you’ve wanted this. For too long. Through too many missions and almost-maybes and can’t-haves and don’t-even-think-about-its.
And now he’s everywhere.
His hands are under your tank top, resting against your waist as he keeps you under him. His body presses down, moulding into yours, every inch of him demanding and anchoring and terrifying in the way it feels so right.
You gasp into his mouth when his hand skims higher, palm dragging heat up your side, sliding beneath the edge of your top without hurry. Not groping. Just... feeling. Claiming space.
Your hips lift without your permission, chasing friction, chasing him.
He groans softly into your mouth. You swallow it greedily.
Loki pulls back just slightly, breathing hard. His forehead rests against yours, both of you straining against the gravity of the moment.
Still not enough.
His hands tense with the last dregs of his self-control, his body pressing down as if to imprint the shape of you onto his bones.
"You want this?" He pants. “You want me?”
"Yes," you gutter out. "Gods, yes."
He smirks against your lips. "Swearing to gods now, are we?" One hand slides back down your waist, hooking under your thigh, hitching it up over his hip. "How flattering."
When the radio on your tac vest wakes you with an alert of incoming comms, the first thing you register is the cold.
Then the ache - deep, lazy, sated - a bruised exhaustion thrumming through every muscle. Your brain struggles up from a black ocean of sleep just as the radio, somewhere across the room, starts crackling to life.
Loki groans low beside you. You feel the movement - sheets slipping off marble skin, the faint stretch of long limbs - and you grunt, rolling onto your stomach, grinding your forehead into the pillow. Everything hurts in a way that makes your mouth curl into a smug little smile against the linen.
The night comes back in flashes. Sharp. Shattering.
Claws-in, teeth-bared, breathless destruction of all the tension that had simmered between you for months. You hadn't so much fallen into bed with him as wrecked each other - over and over again - until your bodies finally gave out, tangled in the wreckage.
Maybe an hour of sleep. Maybe two. Not enough to be functional.
You groan as you push yourself upright, the blanket sliding off your bare back.
Loki sits at the other edge of the bed, dragging a hand through his wild, tangled black hair. The dim morning light coming through the frosted windows slices across his bare shoulders, illuminating the faint, red half-moon marks you left raked into his skin.
You'd be smug about it if your legs would fucking work.
The radio then crackles with the pilot's message:
"Seven minutes out. Chopper can't land. Buckle in for hover extraction."
You swear under your breath, shivering as the cold air hits you. You stagger toward the pile of tactical gear you’d dumped near the fireplace, yanking on your thermals, combat pants, boots, shirt, jacket, ignoring the way Loki watches you, one arm braced casually on his knee, the other draped over his thigh.
Comfortable. Loose. Dangerous.
You grab your tactical vest and the climbing harness slung over it, trying to move quickly, but your hands are clumsy, your joints stiff and sleep-starved. The straps tangle. You hiss in frustration, tugging at them.
Then, you hear the bed creak.
You feel him stand.
You don't turn.
Loki approaches with slow, measured, deliberate steps across the wooden floor. Each one a promise.
The air crackles between you, sharp and bright.
By the time he stops behind you, you’re holding the harness out in front of you like an fool, still wrestling it into some recognisable shape. You can practically hear the smirk in his silence.
He reaches out and, without a word, takes the harness from your fingers.
You lift your chin, refusing to look at him.
His knuckles brush yours. Not an accident.
You glare at the wall in front of you as he circles, slow and lazy.
Then he kneels. Right in front of you.
Looking up, lazy and wicked, his hair falling forward like a curtain of night sky. His body is bruised, unbothered, utterly relaxed. It should be illegal for anyone to look that composed after what the two of you did.
His hands move to your thigh, looping the first strap around it with maddening care. He doesn't rush. Just smooths it in place and gives it a slow, tightening pull. You feel it bite into your skin, feel his fingers curl with precision.
"You seem... compromised," Loki says lightly, his fingers brushing against your bare skin where your pants gap slightly at the hip.
You narrow your eyes.
Another strap glides between your thighs. His hands are firm, his thumbs brushing near places he has no business touching right now, not unless he wants round two on the cold floor. Maybe he does.
"Compromised?" you repeat, voice scratchy with lack of sleep and and too many hours of sinning.
He flashes a slow grin, wicked and pleased with himself, fingers tightening the strap until it bites your hip.
"Fatigued. Shaky. Thoroughly plundered," he drawls. "Tell me, darling - whoever could be responsible for that?"
You snort, pressing your lips together hard to bite back the traitorous smile twitching there.
"Self-satisfied bastard."
He smirks. "I do take pride in my work."
He pulls another strap between your legs, adjusting the belt with slow, taunting movements that are absolutely unnecessary and make you grind your teeth.
You narrow your eyes. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
"Doing what?" His voice is all innocence, but his hands are anything but. "Making sure you don’t fall out of your harness mid-air? You're welcome."
His fingers ghost under the hem of your top, smoothing the waistband flat against your belly. Every touch is too much. Too slow. You hold perfectly still, trying not to tremble.
"You’re not subtle," you mutter, raising a brow as you feel your lips flush.
"Ironic," he muses in satisfied purr, "coming from someone who, not four hours ago, was screaming herself hoarse begging for-"
You kick him lightly in the shin. He catches your ankle with lightning speed, holding it aloft for a second, grinning up at you like the absolute bastard he is.
"Temper," he tuts, releasing you.
He finishes the rest methodically, hands sliding around you with the same precision he uses when breaking into a vault - like he already knows where you’re most vulnerable.
"You know," he says lightly, eyes fixed on the buckles, "I should do this more often. Watching you squirm while I dress you. It’s…" He clicks the buckle shut with a soft snap. "Endearing."
You refuse to shiver. Refuse to give him the satisfaction. But you're admittedly speechless.
When he finally sits back on his heels, looking up at you, his eyes are molten as he whispers:
“Perfect.”
You roll your eyes and lean down to grab the carabiner clips, but Loki beats you to it.
He stands.
One slow movement - shoulders rising, body unfolding to full height - and you suddenly feel too small in his shadow, the air sucked clean from your lungs.
He steps in close, smooths a hand over the centre strap down your chest, fingers dragging slowly. Then he reaches for the buckle at your waist and snaps it into place with a decisive click.
You feel the strength of it reverberate through you, far more intimate than it has any right to be.
And he doesn’t let go.
Instead, he curls his fingers around the central loop, just above your navel, and lifts.
Effortlessly.
You don’t even have time to react before your boots leave the floor. Your breath hitches. Your hands scramble for balance, but he just stands there - arm slightly bent, muscles slack, holding you aloft with casual strength, like you weigh nothing at all.
Your eyes snap to his.
He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t leer.
He just watches you - dark and still, like he’s waiting to see what you’ll do. His grip is unbreakable, his expression unreadable.
The air between you goes molten.
He holds you there for a full, punishing heartbeat. Then another. And another.
Then, finally - finally - he lowers you, so slow you swear he’s savouring every inch of contact as your body slides back into place.
Your boots touch the floor. Barely.
"Perfect," he murmurs again. "Safe and sound."
Your breath stutters. You feel warm all over. Unmoored.
"You done?" you rasp, not trusting your voice.
He chuckles, quiet and pleased. "Oh, not even close."
You exhale through your nose, clenching your fists at your sides to keep from grabbing him.
The radio crackles again: "On approach. Be ready. Thirty seconds."
You tighten your shoulder straps brutally, trying to focus. Trying not to think about how he still smells like smoke and sweat and you.
Loki finally magics on his gear, lazy and unconcerned, buckling himself in with casual grace. You want to slap him. Or straddle him again. It's really fucking hard to tell.
The storm had eased a little - less hectic wind but still smatterings of icy rain. The helicopter blades whir louder, slicing the air like a knife through satin, as you reluctantly leave the cabin behind and run, side-by-side with Loki, the short distance to the pickup point.
You clip yourself and him to the main retrieval cable, double-checking the lines with stiff, professional efficiency.
Your hands brush at the connection point. He catches your fingers in his and holds them just long enough to make your pulse stutter.
"You're trembling," he says barely over the wind, eyes glinting.
"Shut up," you mutter, clicking the radio twice to signal all is good. Pushing his hands away from the line so his skin doesn’t catch.
He chuckles, deep and low.
Above you, the cable jerks taut, the winch starting to pull.
You and Loki are yanked upward together, slammed chest-to-chest, bodies colliding with force as you're hauled into the storm-torn sky.
Your breath catches. Loki grins down at you, devilish.
"Another round when we get back?" he calls into your ear over the wind.
You narrow your eyes, baring your teeth in a wicked smile.
"Only if you leave your harness on."
He throws his head back and laughs - a wild, delighted sound ripped away by the screaming wind - as the two of you disappear into the storm.
Content / warnings: swearing, a lot of sexual tension, steamy kissing, suggestive humour, tickle fic, implied sex
minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.
note: hello! I've come out of the woodwork to drop this random fic, thinking some of you may enjoy some wild sexual tension, teasing, and ruthless ler!loki I felt randomly compelled to write. I can't make any good-faith promises regarding future writing, so I'll just share this for now. All the love <3
The air in the gym was still and heavy, the only sound breaking the silence was the steady rhythm of your fists connecting with the punching bag. You were alone, intentionally so, using the late hour to work through a restless energy that had been gnawing at you for days.
Well, months, really.
There had been something about the Compound lately, something about him that made it hard to focus, hard to sleep.
The leather of the bag thudded under your punches, each strike sharp and measured as you practiced your form. But as effective as the session was at releasing some pent-up tension, you couldn’t ignore the nagging realisation that it wasn’t quite enough. And you didn't know what would be.
Then you heard him - felt him, really, before he spoke. Loki’s presence always announced itself in a subtle way. A shift in the air, a sense of something electric.
The low, velvety voice followed, as if materialising from the shadows. “This hardly seems like a fair fight.”
You froze for the briefest second, your fist still mid-air, before lowering your arm and turning to face him. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed casually over his chest. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just caught you off guard, but that was Loki’s way. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. “Rather a waste of energy, fighting something that won’t hit back.” A pause, an assessment, a tilt of his head in challenge. "Wouldn't you agree?"
Your pulse quickens, though you’d never let it show. With Loki, you’d learned to keep your guard up. His constant presence, the lingering stares, the flirtatious banter - you still couldn't tell if it was all fun and games to him, or... if he actually...
“I’m practicing my form,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the warmth that was starting to spread up your neck.
He smirked, tilting his head as he regarded you with a dark glint in his eye. “If it’s form you’re after, perhaps a real opponent would better suit your needs. I’d be happy to assist.” The words hung in the air between you, their weight heavy with invitation.
You hesitated, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Sparring with Loki? Not smart. The man - the god - was unpredictable, dangerous. You weren’t an idiot; in the field, you’d leave threats like Loki to the bigger guns like Steve, or Thor. But here, in the controlled environment of the gym, with no weapons and only the hum of underlying tension between you two, it felt different.
Risky in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.
Still, you felt a thrill shoot through you at the thought. Something about his attention always made you feel alive, a little reckless.
You wiped the sweat from your brow and tilted your head. “Not sure this is a smart idea, Loki. I usually leave the big threats to the super soldiers and gods.”
His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “You’ll do just fine.” His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if you’d already agreed.
You rolled your eyes, turning toward the mats, feeling his presence at your back as he followed you. You were trying your best to seem unaffected, but his proximity set your skin alight.
Every step toward the sunken sparring area in the centre of the gym felt like a countdown. When you stepped down the couple of stairs onto the mats, you turned to face him, only to find him much closer than you expected. His height, the way he loomed just slightly, was intoxicating. He was so unfairly beautiful. And he knew it.
You gave him a look, a mix of challenge and uncertainty, trying to hide how affected you were. But Loki noticed everything. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your gaze.
“So what now?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit more breathless than you intended.
“Now,” Loki began, circling you slowly, his movements graceful, predatory, “we see what you’re truly made of.”
You squared your shoulders, keeping your stance neutral, trying to maintain your focus. But the energy between you felt charged, almost too much to ignore. Loki was testing you, as he always did - pushing buttons, seeing how far he could go before your unaffected facade slipped. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. But, deep down, you knew that you weren't fooling him.
After one revolution around your body, he stopped in front of you, that smirk still playing on his lips. You didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You lunged forward, aiming a strike toward his midsection, but he dodged it easily, too fast, too graceful. He didn’t retaliate. Not yet. He was baiting you, letting you come to him. Typical.
Your next punch was aimed higher, toward his chest, but he caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not painful, his skin cool against yours. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” he murmured.
You twisted out of his hold, stepping back to reassess. Your heart was racing, not just from the sparring, but from the feel of him, his hand, his eyes locked on yours like a predator toying with its prey. There was something dangerous in the way he moved, something inherently sensual in the way his body seemed to flow, effortless yet lethal.
You tried again, going low this time, aiming a sweeping kick toward his legs. He sidestepped, but not fast enough. You caught him just enough to throw him slightly off balance, and his smile widened. You could've sworn a gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes.
“Not bad,” he said, before moving on you.
Suddenly, he was in your pocket, faster than you anticipated, and before you could block, he had you pinned. One arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other catching your wrist, holding it firmly above your head. He hooked one leg around yours and controlled the descent of your bodies. Your back hit the mats with a soft thud, him directly above you, and you gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. Not fully from the impact, more from the overwhelming sensation of his body pressing against yours.
For a moment, everything stilled. You were trapped beneath him, and he was so close, his breath warm against your neck, his body hovering over yours, just a breath away from full contact. The weight of him, the way he held you so effortlessly, sent a rush of heat through you.
Loki’s eyes bored into yours, dark and intense, and there was no mistaking the shift in the air. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper, something charged with heat and anticipation.
“Still think this was a bad idea?” His voice was a low purr, his lips dangerously close.
Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it in lazy circles, a deliberate tease. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped beneath his touch, trying not to wonder if he could hear it. Feel it.
He lowered his brow, “You clearly haven’t been trained by anyone outside of Midgard.”
His words pricked at your pride, and you glared up at him, breathless, as you tried to wrench your wrist free. “Of course not,” you retorted, a bit sharper than you’d intended. “Not all of us have had the privilege of an intergalactic education.”
His expression softened for just a heartbeat, a glimmer of something that might've almost be concern, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of pragmatism. “That won’t do,” he said simply, releasing you, pulling you to your feet with an ease of strength that made your heart stutter.
“There are… larger threats than you’ve known. You need to understand how they fight.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Or you won't stand a chance."
You swallowed thickly, the implication heavy between you, and found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the subtle promise that lingered just beneath his calm disposition.
In his own strange way, he was offering to train you.
In that moment, it felt like the tension, the unspoken attraction that had been building between you over the months, was ready to snap. The rational part of you is screaming that this was dangerous, that whatever this was, it was a risk you shouldn’t take; putting yourself in the situation to be in constant close quarters with someone who already set you on a steep edge could only end in a heart-wrenching longing.
But as you met Loki’s gaze, defiance and something far more potent flared within you, and you couldn't deny the pull.
“Show me, then,” you whispered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest.
He smirked, a dark satisfaction flickering across his face as he stepped closer still. “Very well,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
The gym was empty, as it usually was this time of night, save for the low hum of your breathing and the solid thud of your body against the mats, the result of another frustrating sparring session with Loki.
It had been weeks of this. A rhythm that’d somehow become normal, sparring sessions where you were pushed to your limits and left feeling exhausted but invigorated.
Loki’s method of training was relentless, unforgiving, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The techniques he taught you - sharp, brutal movements, counters that defy human logic - had already sharpened your skills in ways you couldn’t have imagined.
He was maddening and insufferable, with his mocking commentary and easy confidence, but he had made you better.
You would flush to admit how much you looked forward to the few sessions each week. Because though you had trained with all kinds of opponents, none of them compared to the dark, infuriating figure currently pinning you to the ground.
He loomed above you, his body pressed just enough against yours to keep you in place, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin making the friction of his hold electric. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you stared up at him, face inches from his as he flashed that knowing grin.
Unfortunately, this had become a very normal position to find yourself in. Loki never let you win, and never let you up without an admission of defeat, saying allowing such things would only breed complacence.
“Ready to surrender, darling?” His voice was dark silk, the smugness woven through every syllable. His eyes traveled over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you caught your breath. “Again? What are we, zero-and-thirty?”
The mix of arrogance and barely-contained amusement in his expression made your irritation bubble over.
"Go to hell."
"Charming," he replied, arching a brow. "By all means, keep on with your futile attempts to escape," he shrugged with indifference, further stoking your frustration. "I do so enjoy this part."
Your jaw ticked. You were tired, flustered, not any more used to his proximity even after weeks of this. You thought you'd be desensitised to his flirting, his touch... him, but, if anything, it was all pulling you closer to the edge of desperation.
And desperate times call for desperate measures.
At least, that's what you told yourself. In reality, you weren't thinking. You couldn't have been thinking, given that no one in your position would've considered such a foolish move.
In a final, desperate move, a slapdash attempt to get him off of you without having to surrender, your fingers darted to his sides, pressing into his ribs in a way that might, with any luck, give him a taste of his own teasing medicine.
But the instant your fingers touched him, and he merely flinched once, you knew you'd made a careless mistake, and a devastating one at that.
This was something you could never take back.
He stilled, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. His gaze slowly shifted down to where your hands rested on his torso, and when he looked back up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes turned predatory.
“Oh?" His voice dropping to a dangerously low, delicious murmur, “You’ve just made an exceptionally poor choice.”
Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. “Wait. Loki, I didn’t-”
“You want to play, hmm?” His smirk only widened as he leaned in, his grip tightening. “How delightful. Do carry on.”
“Please, I'm sorry,” you gasped, trying to push at his chest, already breathless. “I wasn't thinking- Loki, please!” You could feel your cheeks growing warm, laughter bubbling up as he held you firm. "I'm sorry!"
“Shh,” he crooned, his smirk deepening. “No need to waste your precious breath.”
"Oh no, please, not this," you laughed despite your wincing, pushing harder at his shoulders. It did nothing.
“Begging already?” His fingers found your sides, pinning them as his thumbs pressed firmly into the sensitive skin above your hips. “You might regret that even more, darling.”
Before you could protest, his fingers began to move, an unrelenting, devastating rhythm that sent a jolt of sensation through your body. Your attempts to fight it crumbled instantly as laughter spilled from your lips, your hands still trying, and failing, to push his away.
“Loki! N-no-” you gasped between giggles, squirming beneath him as his fingers worked with merciless precision. He watched you with keen fascination, clearly enjoying the effects of his touch on you far too much. His thumbs traced slow, calculated circles against your ribs, each movement skilled and targeted, attuning his touch at a terrifying speed. Learning how to deliver a masterful torture, designed just for you.
“Oh, I think yes,” he replied, his voice a teasing purr. “And to think, all it takes to make you crumble is a little tickling. How... adorably human.” His words were as wicked as his touch, his fingers finding every sensitive spot along your ribs, raking over your skin with a tormenting ease.
Your laughter only grew, helpless and unbidden, your body writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away from his relentless fingers. But the press of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the smirk on his lips were driving you to the edge in more ways than one.
“You know,” he continued, one hand slipping higher along your ribs, while the other skated down your side in search of a new vulnerable spot, “you really should have thought this through.” He watched as you struggled to speak, your protests dissolving into helpless laughter as pinched the soft spot above your hip in a steady rhythm. “But I suppose thinking things through isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?”
Another fit of giggles burst from you, the words “Shut up- Loki, I swear-” managing to slip through the laughter before his searching hand found an especially sensitive spot just above your knee. Your leg jerked, and you could barely contain the yelp that escaped you.
“Oh, now that's a good spot, isn't it?” he mused, his smirk widening as he kept his fingers there, watching with satisfaction as you writhed in his grip. His thumb and middle finger cratered into your skin, moving in small, unrelenting circles against the muscle, each pass drawing a louder, more desperate laugh from you.
Every time your laughter began to steady, Loki would adjust, finding fresh angles to torment that same spot, leaving you gasping and breathless, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his satisfied chuckle only made the entire ordeal more maddening, his smirk widening with every helpless laugh he drew from you.
The muscles of your core ached, already weakened from the near hour of sparring you'd endured before this ordeal, and your desperation mounted as you realised just how completely you were at his mercy.
“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice mockingly sympathetic. “All those threats you make, all those fighting words... yet-"
The door to the gym opened suddenly, and two figures stepped inside. Loki didn’t miss a beat, glancing up to find Steve and Bucky standing there, their faces caught between surprise and amusement at the scene before them. Loki merely grinned, unperturbed, as though they were expected guests.
“Ah, gentlemen, so kind of you to join us.” His fingers didn't stop, not even for a moment. Your breath hitched between laughs. “She’s been begging for mercy. Tell me, don’t you train your people to withstand a bit of torture?”
“Steve!” you gasped, trying and failing to sit up as Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs with a terrifying precision. The hand at your knee gave a quick pulse and you shrieked, giving a violent kick of your leg that somehow dislodged his hand. “Bucky- help!”
The two men exchanged a look, an unmistakable smirk crossing their faces as they watched you squirm beneath Loki’s touch, now at both of your sides.
Steve folded his arms, tilting his head as if considering your plea. “Seems like you've bitten off more than you can chew,” he said, lips quirking up in amusement.
“You're gonna have to get yourself out of this one,” Bucky added with smirk.
"Please!" You squeaked when Loki wrapped his hands around your hips once more, squeezing and pressing as you plead through helpless giggles. "I-I'll do anything- just- j-just help me, please!"
“Anything?” Loki murmurs, his voice low and smooth as he leans down, stilling his hands just long enough for you to catch your breath. “My, my, this sounds like quite the liability. Is this all it takes to break you?” His fingers latched onto both of your knees with renewed vigour, eliciting a shriek and then a fresh burst of laughter.
You were too far gone to respond, tears gathering in your eyes as you twisted under his touch, utterly powerless to escape. His words, his steady, relentless taunts, were maddening, each one sinking in deeper as his fingers found every vulnerable place that left you laughing helplessly beneath him.
Your cheeks burned as you tried to wriggle away from his fingers, laughter turning desperate as his hands traced the sensitive muscles along your thighs. “L-Loki, please—”
Loki casted a glance at Steve and Bucky, his voice dropping to a lower, more mocking tone. “Her training is sorely lacking. She's reckless, susceptible…" he looked back down to you with a sly grin, "and seems to lack any sense of risk analysis. Taking me on, indeed.”
You were incredulous - as much as you could be in your position - and you tried to protest, tried to tell them that it was Loki’s idea to spar in the first place, but the words won’t come. Loki’s hands had you too helpless, laughter spilling from your lips as he smirked down at you with an expression of pure satisfaction.
Bucky shrugged, grinning as he watched your futile struggle. “Maybe we need to work on conditioning that out of her.”
“Oh, no,” Loki interjected smoothly, slipping his hands to the juncture of your hips and thighs, sending you arching off the mat, squeals of laughter tearing from your throat. "I rather like her this way."
Desperation drove you to try to reach for Steve or Bucky, your arm outstretched in a silent plea for mercy.
You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.
Loki saw the opportunity in your attempt, and with a smooth, precise move, he twisted you onto your stomach, pinning your outstretched wrist to the mat as he settled over you, his other hand slipping to your lower ribs to press into a spot he'd already memorised, one that made you shriek.
“Really, darling,” he whispered darkly, his voice rich with satisfaction, “your judgment is appallingly poor, isn’t it?” His fingers glided higher, hitting a spot on your upper ribs that made your laughter turn silent, breath hitching as you struggled under him.
“You handed me this opening,” he tutted, his taunting words making you burn hotter. “What happens next is your fault.” His fingers found the sensitive spot beneath your arm, drawing out a fresh wave of laughter as your body arched, your feet scrabbling for traction as you slapped your free hand against the mat.
Hard laughter barrelled out of you, your head falling to the mat as you squeezed your eyes shut, succumbing to the sensations he was pulling from your nerves.
Surrender washed over you, cool and easy, as you felt your muscles go limp beneath him, nothing in your mind but the feeling of his body, his hands, the force of your laughter, and the pure, unadulterated fun he was having with you. And it was fun, you realised. In a way that people like you usually didn't indulge in.
Bucky tapped Steve on the arm and jerked his chin towards the door behind them. "Seem like you have this under control," he smirked at you. You looked up to glare but only caught their knowing glance, the one of friends and not of Avengers. The one that said, we know exactly what's going on here.
It made you flush almost as much as the unrelenting torture.
Almost as soon as they left you, Loki's tickling hand pulled away. You gulped greedy breaths in as he turned your sagging body with ease, settling you on your back as he hovered over you, eyes roaming the product of his work.
"I trust you've learned your lesson." His voice was a low rumble that sent heat pooling to your belly. All you could do was nod. "Next time you dare to pull a stunt like that," he started, leaning in so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, "I won't be so gentle."
Heat bloomed over your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, the space between you charged, crackling with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.
You couldn't look away, your breath catching as his gaze lingered on your lips.
His own parted, as though he was on the verge of closing the distance...
He flinched.
Pulled back. Pulled away.
Your brow lowered in concern, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stood.
"Until next time."
He looked down at you, his eyes lingering with a promise that made your pulse pound, before he turned and strode out of the gym, leaving you sprawled on the mat, breathless, wanting, and hopelessly, maddeningly confused.
It was late that same night when you finally worked up the nerve to confront him.
You moved through the silent halls of the Compound, each step echoing in the darkened corridors as you slipped past the shadows pooling in doorways. Uncertainty crept up your spine, and you almost turned back more than once, only to grit your teeth and push forward. There were too many things left unsaid, too much tension thickening the air between you and Loki, and it gnawed at you now, refusing to let you retreat.
Before you could decide on a way to begin, his door opened. He stood there, almost as if he’d sensed you coming, his expression a mix of curiosity and that ever-present amusement.
“It's rather late for a visit,” he said, his tone low, his words quiet and full of question.
You met his gaze. “Couldn't sleep,” you replied, massaging the back of your neck with one hand.
His lips twitched with something darker, though his tone remained light. “And you thought I could help?”
Silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake.
"I thought you might be able to, considering it's your fault."
His face softened at the strain in your tone, and he stepped aside in a silent invitation for you to enter.
Swallowing hard, you stepped forward, pressing past him and into his room. He shut the door behind you, and the world seemed to fall away, the dimness settling around you, cocooning you both in a place of shadow and warmth.
"Go on then," Loki urged as you two stood near the lounge set in his room. A couple of armchairs and a matching couch, cast in the soft glow of several lamps and a dying fire in the hearth.
You drew a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak. “I know what you are, Loki,” you began, feeling your voice tremble with both fear and resolve. “Mischief is part of your very nature, and I don't mind fun and games like- like earlier," you flushed thinking about it, catching the smirk forming on his features as he watched you fumble.
You gathered your courage and stared him straight-on. "But not with my feelings. All this- this flirting, and touching, and closeness... it's not a game to me. So if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'd rather it stop."
Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smugness vanishing, replaced by something harder, sharper. He let the words hang between you, a silence stretching before he repeated them in a voice almost too soft to hear. “If it doesn't mean anything to me,” he murmured, a subtle, dangerous edge to his tone. "You think this- that you are simply a game? Another amusement of no consequence?"
You swallowed, willing yourself to continue. “Today…” Your voice broke slightly, and you pushed the words out. “In the gym, we were so close. I thought...” Heat flooded your cheeks, but you forced yourself on, the confession slipping free. “For the dozenth time, I thought you were finally going to kiss me. But I just left wondering if I'm a fool with some silly schoolgirl crush, way in over my head." The admission left you raw and breathless, your heart pounding.
He exhaled, the smallest hint of a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "You were trapped beneath me. Pinned, helpless,” he said, as though it explained everything. “I could never take that liberty with you while you were at my mercy.” His gaze grew darker still, something haunted flickering in his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if I gave in to such an impulse. I'd never stop wondering if you had truly wanted it."
"But I did want-"
"And what if you hadn't?"
His words were a balm and a brand, his unwavering gaze rooting you to the spot.
"I had to know it was real. Not something forced or coerced, something... taken from you when you were too breathless to say no. I had to know for sure that it was what you desired."
For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, the weight of his reverence filling the space between you.
“It is,” you managed, each word trembling with the strength of your resolve. “I want this. I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” You swallowed, breathless.
A beat passed, and something changed in his face - a tension releasing, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.
Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers unfurling in a silent invitation.
You slipped you palm into his, letting him pull you toward him, his touch both a promise and a tether.
He guided you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the lines of your shoulders, until they rested firmly on your waist. Then, with a gentle insistence, he drew you toward an armchair, lowering himself into it and coaxing you down to settle over his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.
His hand rose, tilting your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. They held an intensity that bordered on unrelenting, darkened by desire and the hint of something raw, something that took your breath away. He watched you intently, his expression filled with something just shy of reverence. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his fingers trailed along your neck, igniting every nerve.
You shivered as he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned across your lips. His touch was calm and certain, his gaze flicking over you as if committing every part of you to memory.
“I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, voice low and heated. “For you.”
The weight of his words pressed against the heavy silence between you, and before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and consuming.
He guided you with a gentle but undeniable command, his mouth pressing deeper, each kiss drawn out, languid, until it felt like he was unraveling you with every deliberate stroke of his lips against yours.
The world blurred, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he lured a soft gasp from your lips. His hand slid to the back of your neck, steadying you, keeping you close as he took his time, tasting you, his lips teasing yours until you forgot to breathe.
When you moved to meet his kiss more eagerly, he slowed you, a faint smirk in the curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss with a patience that made your stomach twist. He was savouring this, savouring you, and the way he kissed you - deliberate, knowing - made your entire body ache with need.
His thumb brushed along your cheek, lingering as his other hand settled firmly at your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.
Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as he angled your face, holding you exactly where he wanted. When his tongue brushed lightly over your lower lip, you let out a soft, involuntary sound, and his hand tightened against your waist, holding you to him.
Loki’s mouth moved over yours with a control that made you shiver, each kiss deliberate, and the quiet dominance in his touch sent warmth pooling through you. With every gentle press of his lips, every slow, teasing stroke, he seduced you, guided you, igniting something deep and undeniable that had simmered for too long. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs, and as you gasped softly, his mouth trailed along your jaw, his lips barely brushing over your skin.
When he finally pulled back, his gaze was dark, his expression full of barely-contained intensity.
A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, the teasing glint returning to his gaze. “Well, look at you,” he soothed, voice rich with quiet amusement. “I half-expected you to come tearing through that door, seeking vengeance for how thoroughly I put you in your place earlier.”
Heat pooled in your face, and you fought to keep your composure, though it was a losing battle. “I’d have been fine if you hadn’t-”
“-handled you so effectively?” he interrupted with an infuriating grin, each syllable soft and mocking. “Don’t worry. I rather enjoyed it myself.”
His thumb still lingered on your flushed lips, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief but something darker, something that felt like an invitation. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and heated, and the words sent a thrill down your spine.
The invitation hung between you, heavy and dark, the desire in his gaze nearly tangible. Your breath hitched, your heart racing at the thought of losing yourself completely in him, of surrendering to this quiet storm between you.
“That depends,” you managed, barely able to steady your voice. “Are you planning to repeat what happened earlier?”
He chuckled, his fingers tightening on your waist as his eyes glittered with amusement. “Only if you ask very, very nicely.”
A thrill shot through you as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a dark, velvet whisper. “That certainly won't be the last time we play like that. Tonight, however... I have other ideas for what to do with you." His fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.
Gods help you. He was going to be your undoing.
"I thought I'd take my time, learning you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Every little detail, every sweet noise you can make." His lips skated across the pulse point in your neck. "Would you like that, darling?"
"Yes." You had barely whispered your reply before his lips were on yours again, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, consuming fervour that left no room for questions, no room for anything except the feeling of him, his warmth, his presence, the gentle yet undeniable control in every touch. His fingers threaded through your hair, his hand steadying you as he deepened the kiss, guiding you with a restraint that made you shiver.
You melted into him, your breaths mingling as his hands drifted, his touch both firm and soft, and when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that left you breathless.
“This is not a game,” he whispered, a promise in his tone, his thumb tracing light patterns along your neck. His expression was sincere, edged with both longing and restraint. “You say the word, and we’ll stop.”
The words were a quiet echo, a reassurance that grounded you both. A chill of reverence passed between you, something thrilling, something impossibly tender. You met his gaze, nodding as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. “You too. No pressure, no expectations,” you whispered back, meaning it, and he smiled, a soft, endearing smile that made your heart ache.
And then he guided you back into his arms, every movement slow and deliberate as he kissed you once more, drawing you into a dance that would last until dawn.
Hi! I was wondering if you could please list all the fandoms you write for?
Hello!
I write for supernatural, most of Marvel, and I have written one fic for The Umbrella Academy. My prompts are closed right now, I’m not sure if/when I’ll open them up. I have a young child who takes up most of my free time ❤️❤️ Thank you for asking! 😊
Woah. Where has the time gone?? Can’t believe it’s been 4 years since I started writing. Thank you to everything who has read my work and decided to stick around ❤️❤️
Romantic + 13. “That’s… quite an attitude for someone in your position.” Requested by >:3 anon for my 1K Followers Event🌻
This little drabble turned into a 1.3K words fic, oops I got carried away. Hope you like it anon!
It was the basic rule and you knew that. You lost the game. Loser gets to do whatever the other asks for the rest of the day. Of course you had only agreed to the condition in order to gain power over your usually evil and sassy lover Loki, God of Misschief, but unfortunately found yourself in the opposite camp. Losers camp.
"Don't worry love. You don't think I would actually ask you things to humiliate you? Just some innocent simple things to tease my sweetheart, that's all. You know what? In order to make it easier to follow my commands, I'll offer you two choices everytime. Do you agree?" Loki reasoned with a smug smile on his face.
You rolled your eyes fondly and fiddled with your playing cards, the ones that had guided you into this losing game. You nodded.
"Alright, sounds fair to me," you answered. You knew Loki wouldn't be too bad to you, considering he was your lover after all. However you liked the idea of having at least some freedom to choose. Loki nodded.
"Good. Then starting with the first set of choices. Either you give me a kiss," he tapped his own lips.
"Or... I tickle you."
Your eyes widened at the mention of the second option, and you coughed in surprise. Tickle?! What... You shook your head and quickly leaned in to kiss his lips.
"E-easy choice," you mumbled with a blush. Loki smirked at you.
"Right?" He pulled you back and kissed you more.
The next few hours, Loki would offer you more choices, but at random. However being the evil God of Misschief, he stuck to an obvious pattern. So very evil.
Bark like a dog, or I tickle you.
Give me a massage, or I tickle you.
Braid my hair, or I tickle you.
They were innocent requests at first, but turned weirder and harder.
Feed me a donut, with your mouth, or I tickle you.
Do a handstand while singing a serenade to me, or I tickle you.
"You know I wouldn't choose the second option by now! Try something else!" you said with a red face, which was about to become even redder now that you started the crazy handstand-serenade thing. And it got even crazier, that little...!
Run into that store and yell "The Hulk is my man!", then buy cookies and leave. Or… I tickle you.
"You really are enjoying yourself aren't you!" you yelled after living through that most humiliating experience ever, and you threw the pack with cookies you bought at his face. His laughter was both maniacal and sweet.
Put these on, or I tickle you.
When Loki offered a pair of handcuffs, you should've known it was a trap. Still, you were very quick to put your hands forward, blushing at the thought of him tickling you, like you did everytime he mentioned the damn word! But the moment the cold metal clicked around your wrists and Loki waved the key between his fingers before putting it into his pocket, you knew you were done for.
"Now, spread your arms and tell me you love me... or, I tickle you," he said, slowly and teasingly, his eyes locking with yours. You swallowed and moved your hands a little, only to confirm these were real handcuffs.
"I c-can't," you said. "I can't spread my arms like this... You have to take these off first."
Loki cocked his head. "That's too bad now. I'm afraid I lost the key, and I really need this confession from you. Spreading your arms is part of the deal. Hm... I guess that leaves only one other option," he said, but you jumped back and shook your head, already giggling in anticipation.
"No no no, hehehe you trickster! That's cheating, it isn't fair!"
"I did not cheat, it is fair, I still gave you two choices," Loki explained calmly, approaching you with slow steps and a sadistic and triumphant look on his face.
"Y-you're being totally unfair, cheater! I'll get you back for this!" Your back touched the wall and you gulped.
Loki only needed a few more steps to completely cage you in. “Really? You'll get me back? That’s… quite an attitude for someone in your position.”
You let out a squeak as soon as he grabbed you, and you started laughing even before you felt the long-awaited and anticipated tickles invading your body.
"Nohoho you're so mehehean!" you laughed when he tickled you with firm and steady touches, his fingers digging into your soft torso and rubbing circles almost as if he was massaging you. But damn it tickled like hell!
"I am the God of Misschief after all~" Loki said proudly, taking your cuffed hands and pushing them up over your head to pin them there, with magic. Your eyes widened when he waved both hands at you, showing you that he didn't need them to keep your arms pinned helplessly.
"You cheheheater wahahah!" you howled again when he tickled both your armpits, ribs and sides without mercy. You danced and bucked against the wall in the most uncharming manner, causing you to blush even more.
"Finally I can tickle you. I wanted to let you know that one way or another, I get what I want," Loki sang proudly. It was funny that he needed to make such a show out of it while he could've tickled you straight away from the get-go, right after winning the card game.
But no, he needed to come up with the 2 choices rule. He needed to make it into this silly game and let you do crazy things like the handstand-serenade and feeding him with your mouth, and the damn Hulk shoutout at the store, oh that was awful!
"You ahahare the wohohorst!" you shrieked, kicking your legs while the magic held your bound arms in place. Loki simply caught your leg and tickled your thigh.
"I am the worst, but you do love me," Loki said teasingly, smiling when your laughter went even pitchier the moment he tickled your thigh.
"Right?" he asked, but you were going insane with hysterical laughter.
"Nohoho! I hahahate you hehehe!" you laughed defiantly.
"Oh we both know that is a lie," he said, and yes it was kind of embarrassing that even in this helpless position, you felt like you needed to show your evil boyfriend some more attitude. But it happened. You were rude, and you paid the price. Loki lifted both your legs, making you wrap them around his waist, and he tickled your inner thighs until you were almost screaming into his face.
This was not only getting way too ticklish and tiring, but also way too embarrassing. You did love Loki after all, and looking the way you did in front of the one you loved, really was too embarrassing.
"AHAHA alrihihight I lohohove you! Hahahaha! Plehehease! Mehehercy!"
"Loki, God of Mercy, at your service," Loki teased like the brat he was. A single snap of his fingers didn't only release your hands from their magical cage, but also released your hands from the cuffs. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck for balance.
With your legs still around his waist, you were pressed between him and the wall, and you'd wipe the smug expression off his face if it weren't for this urgent desire to kiss him.
"I promise you, I will get you back for that evil prank," you said breathlessly. Loki shrugged and smiled.
"Can't wait, darling~" he answered, and finally the two of you kissed. Your own loud and hysterical laughter was still ringing in your ears, but Loki's lips against yours also set off some imaginary fireworks inside your head, which really made up for a lot of things.
But... That didn't mean you would give up any shot at revenge. Which, in the case of plotting against your powerful lover, meant that you simply had to get better at card games, beat his ass next time and claim. your. prize!
Wow! It has been ages since i have posted a fic. I hope you all enjoy! It feels so wonderful and refreshing to write again❤️❤️
Warnings: SFW tickle fic. Some profanity and brief mention of sexual harassment. (Nothing explicit)
Words: 3655 Ler Loki X Lee Female reader.
Be A Man
You absolutely hated him.
You could not stand his attitude, his mischievous, his self-righteous aura. All you could think about right now was strangling this man. Maybe kicking his ass a time or two as well.
Okay, okay. You were being a little dramatic. You didn’t actually hate him. In fact, he was your best friend, who sometimes got on your nerves, but you still cared for him and loved him.
You stared at yourself in the mirror, noticing your face was red with frustration. You reached down and turned on the sink, splashing some ice water on your face to help cool your jets a little. Making eye contact with yourself again, you rubbed the sore spot on your cheekbone that was starting to bruise. It was not completely his fault, missions don’t always go to plan. You knew it was unfair to place all the blame on his shoulders, but you were still a little pissed that your partner didn’t know how to shut his mouth sometimes.
You and Loki were an interesting pair. Loki was known to be sneaky, mysterious, a little high and mighty, and sometimes a stubborn brat. Now, you knew him deeper than that and knew he was more complex and actually a caring being, but to the outside world this is how he was viewed.
You, on the other hand, were known to be bubbly, kind, outgoing, and maybe a little stubborn, but only on very specific topics. This was why you were completely shocked to hear you and Loki would be partners.
Before your partnership began, you knew very little about who this demigod was. Of course, you knew his history and where he was from, but you did not have the chance to converse with him besides polite greetings when in the kitchen or passing each other in the hallway.
One day, you received an email from SHIELD informing you that Loki was to be your assigned field partner for an extended period. You were used to working solo, but apparently, the higher-ups decided you needed someone to work alongside you, probably some new OSHA requirement or a bureaucratic policy.
Surprisingly enough, you and Loki were an amazing team. You both were stealthy, intelligent, and perceptive.That is why you were so pissed about your current mission and why you “hated” your partner.
Stationed in Greece, you and Loki were surveilling an art museum. Rumor had it that the owner was producing counterfeit artwork and selling it. Of course, this wasn’t a typical thing for SHIELD to address, but it was a critical mission because your intel mentioned the counterfeit artwork had nanotechnology hidden in the canvas backs. This particular type of nanotech in the wrong hands would be detrimental.
The mission went by flawlessly. You and Loki were disguised as a rich couple from Italy, and together you perused the art studio pretending to admire the artwork. The plan was for you to cause a diversion so Loki could scan some of the artwork with a piece of technology Tony Stark curated. The scanner was not easily hidden, so it was best if the security personnel were distracted.
Loki removed his arm from around your waist, chastely kissing you on your temple.
“I will be right across the room love. There is some fine artwork I wish to analyze, although none of this is as fine as you dear”. Loki purred, but loud enough for those around to hear.
Oh, he was good. To others in the room, you looked like hopeless romantics. Little did they know the truth.
You nodded and fought off a blush as you confirmed this was your cue to distract the security guards. Loki headed toward the back of the room while you walked over to the floor host. You had clocked it earlier that anyone who approached the host, immediately gained the attention of all the security guards, at least for a couple minutes until they deemed it safe.
“Oh excuse me, kind sir, I was wondering if you could explain the history behind this item. My husband and I are very interested in this piece”.
The host looked at you skeptically, probably because of your youthful look.
“Oh, did I mention we will be paying cash?” You opened up your purse so the man could see you weren’t bluffing.
Immediately after eyeing the cash, the man changed his demeanor.
“Of course Miss. I would be delighted to discuss this with you.” You flashed the man a dainty smile and slowly walked over to a painting in the far corner of the room.
Pretending to be highly interested in what the man was saying, you nodded and smiled intently at his every word. After what felt like a lifetime, you felt Loki snake his hands around your waist again.
“Now darling. I thought we discussed this before. The color of this painting will clash with our interior design. Perhaps we should return tomorrow and think this over before we make any decisions?”
You pretended to look upset, pouting slightly as you begrudgingly answered him.
“Yes dear. You are quite right, like always”.
Loki smiled and nonchalantly squeezed your side. You were not expecting the ticklish sensation, so you jumped back slightly and coughed to suppress your giggle.
Loki raised his eyebrows and smirked at you. Great, just what you needed! The God of Mischief knowing your little ticklish secret.
You glared back at Loki as to say “Don’t you dare think about it”. The host, who was still standing by you two, chuckled nervously and thanked you for your time. Taking that as your cue to exit the studio, you and Loki headed out.
This is when things went wrong. As you left the building, Loki still had his arm wrapped around your waist, unmoving, but you could sense the threat that loomed over you.
“Loki I swear, you even think about it and I will—“
“DAMN! Now that is a fine-looking ass if I ever saw one. Got to get me some of dat!”
You and Loki immediately turned to see a very drunk individual giving your body a look. You rolled your eyes.
Men.
You knew you had a nice body, and had been catcalled before. If you hadn’t been on a busy street trying to blend in, you would have ripped his tongue out, but you and Loki needed to get back to the safe house.
“Come on Loki, just ignore it”. You yanked on Loki’s bicep, only to find he was not moving.
“Loki, I said ignore it! We have to go!” You said through your teeth. The inebriated man was still making foul comments, but you just ignored them. Loki stepped towards the man.
“Listen here you impotent, conniving little shit. That is not how you talk to a woman”.
You yanked on his arm again as you noticed the man was getting extremely agitated.
“Loki we got to go NOW!” You urged but still, your partner did not move. You noticed his hand started to glow a faint green as Loki summoned some of his magic.
Oh boy.
You jumped in front of Loki to stop him right at the same time the drunk man was about to take a swing at Loki. He socked you solidly in the face and you stumbled a little trying to regain your footing.
“Oh, you have done it now you-“ Loki was seething more now and you had to get out of here. You yanked with all your might on Loki’s arm again and finally, he followed suit. You could hear the man yelling profanities as you walked away.
You continued down the road in silence for a few moments.
“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for asking”. You spat a little harshly. You rubbed your sore face and shot Loki a glare. Loki jumped a little at your harshness.
“I know you can take a little heat Agent. I am more concerned about why you didn’t let me demolish that cretin for slewing hateful words your way”.
You sighed. “Because Loki, I am used to being cat-called and missions always come first. I thought you of all people would understand that”.
Loki huffed and rolled his eyes. “Well, sorry agent that I tried to protect you. Won’t happen again!”
Loki continued to mumble under his breath but you couldn’t quite make out what he said.
Still upset but wanting to change topics you decided to discuss the mission.
“So, what did the scanner find in the paintings? Anything good?”
Loki shook his head. With no emotion he said “The scanner found absolutely nothing”.
You stopped in your tracks. Turning to look at Loki, his face etched with frustration and disappointment.
“Well, that’s just great! We wasted our time, found no evidence to shut this operation down, and I got punched in the face for NOTHING!”
Loki opened his mouth to speak, but you held up a hand motioning for him to shut it. You were overreacting, but you didn’t want to admit it quite yet. You needed to calm down first.
Now that you were a few blocks away from the studio, you clicked a button on your watch signaling your ride to pick you up. Took only a few moments before a car pulled over and you and Loki crawled in. You were both silent for the duration of the car ride.
———————
You splashed your face with cold water one more time before deciding it was time to exit the bathroom. Loki probably wanted to take a shower and it would be rude to not allow him that.
You headed into the main room of the quaint little cabin you were staying at and made yourself some dinner. It was nearly dark outside already and your stomach was grumbling from the lack of food.
Loki entered the kitchen and made his way to the bathroom. Before entering, he paused, looking over his shoulder.
“I am sorry for not listening to you earlier. I should never have let that buffoon put his hands on you”.
Loki’s voice was soft, gentle even. You could tell he was being sincere.
“It’s okay Loki. I am sorry for overreacting. You still love me right?” You joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Loki chuckled and gave you a wink.
“Well of course. Dat ass is something to admire isn’t it”.
You let out a snort and gave Loki the finger as he walked into the bathroom. You two were most definitely friends, but sometimes you wondered if there was a spark of something else underneath. You blushed and felt your heart twinge at the thought.
You were falling for him.
But you couldn’t think about that right now. He was your best friend, partner, and teammate. You couldn’t risk losing him if he didn’t feel the same way.
You decided to play it safe. You were going to bottle up your feelings and wait for Loki to make his move first.
————————
Feeling bored and needing to pass the time, you grabbed the TV remote and scrolled through the channels to see if something piqued your interest.
“No way!” You stated to yourself out loud. “I haven’t seen this movie in forever!”
You giggled and jumped onto the couch. You had not seen Disney’s “Mulan” in ages. This movie brought back many memories of your childhood, as you watched it ample times and knew each song by heart.
Loki was still in the shower, so you had no shame in quoting the movie and singing along. As frustrated and angry as you were this morning, this movie was exactly what you needed to cheer you up.
The drums in the movie started to intensify, and you knew your favorite part was coming up. You cranked up the TV a little bit louder, grabbed your hairbrush that was sitting on the coffee table, and prepared for your solo.
Not caring if Loki heard you or not you yelled along with the movie.
“BE A MAN!
You must be swift as the coursing river.
BE A MAN!
With all the force of a great typhoon
BE A MAN!
With all the strength of a raging fire
Mysterious as the dark side of the MOOOOOON!”
You continued to sing along until a deep voice startled you from behind.
“What in Odin’s name is going on!? Is a cat being skinned alive out here??”
You threw a pillow at Loki.
“Oh shut up! I have a wonderful singing voice thank you very much. You giggled and went to grab another pillow to toss at Loki.
You knew your singing voice was horrendous, but hey at least you were in a better mood now!
Loki quickly threw his pillow back at you as you dove onto the couch to avoid being hit.
“Have you ever seen this movie Loki? It’s pretty funny I think”.
Loki walked over to where you were sitting and sat beside you. He eyed the TV suspiciously as you explained the movie was called “Mulan”.
“You really think I had time to watch a silly movie while on Asgard on a flashing electronic box? Partner, I met the real Mulan, and she was nothing like this cartoon depicts her. She was a much more intimidating woman”.
You looked at Loki with a shocked expression.
“You actually got to meet her?? That is so awesome. I bet she could kick your ass”.
Loki rolled his eyes and ignored the insult.
“So explain to me, what about that song made you scream at the top of your lungs?”
You shrugged your shoulders.
“Well besides it being hella catchy, it’s also kinda ironic. Back in those days, warriors had to live up to a higher standard to prove their manhood. But nowadays, men can act like wild dogs sometimes without repercussions.”
Loki mocked gasped.
“Ouch love, and to think that you are my friend when I to you am merely a wild dog!”
You punched Loki on the shoulder.
“Oh come on, you know I don’t think of you that way! But to be fair, you aren’t as swift as a river or have the force of a typhoon. God or not, that’s just not realistic.”
Loki’s demeanor changed after you spoke about this. His eyes narrowed and you saw a slight twinkle of mischievous. You weren’t intending to offend him. You were teasing him like you always did.
“Loki, I didn’t mean to offend you! I was just sayi—HEY!”
Without warning Loki had leapt from his spot and tackled you down on the couch. He was much stronger than you so it didn’t take long for you to be pinned and not able to wiggle very much. He was sitting on your hips with your hands under your back. You kicked your feet in a futile attempt to dislodge him.
“What were you saying dear? I am not swift like a coursing river. I feel me pinning you was awful fast.”
So this is what it was about. Loki felt you were bashing his manhood.
“Loki, this is not what I meant! I was teasing you! You are very much a man! I was referring to men like the guy who punched me today!”
You tried to buck your hips, but Loki was heavy enough that you barely moved. Starting to get nervous, you thought maybe threatening Loki would help you.
“Loki, if you don’t get off me, I will start to sing again. I know how much you love my voice”.
You opened your mouth to belt out a random tune, but instead of lyrics coming out, you squeaked. Loki had poked you on the stomach.
Shit. You forgot about your ticklish incident this morning.
“Loki, let’s talk about thIS.” Your breath hitched as Loki poked you again but on your ribs this time.
“Oh, agent! Did you think I would be forgetting this little secret you tried to hide from me? I was going to leave you alone today since you did get punched and all, but then you threatened me! And questioned my manhood.
So, yes you will sing Little Dove. You will sing for me as I show you how swift I can be. You will witness yourself being forced to giggle, shriek, laugh, and wiggle underneath me. And you will soon find out I do have the strength of a raging fire, and you will have no choice but to submit to my touch”.
Your face turned red and you turned your head away from Loki, trying to hide from him. Best friend or not, Loki’s playfulness was very attractive. Being tickled by him couldn’t be that bad, could it?
“Sing for me little birdie”
Loki wasted no time and was soon scratching his fingers very methodically in between your ribs. He was gauging which set was the most sensitive, not lingering for too long before switching to another pair.
You could not even attempt to suppress your laughter. The ticklish sensation was too much and you were soon bubbling with laughter. Your lower ribs made you giggle laugh while your upper ribs were far more sensitive causing you to squirm and squeak loudly.
In search of a more ticklish spot, Loki quickly changed tactics and was now pinching your sides and belly. You wiggled harder now and were full-on laughing. Occasionally having a snort sneak out of your mouth.
“Is this swift enough for you dear? Or should I increase my pace even more?”
Loki’s teasing was making things so much worse. He also was true to his word and his tickling fingers were spidering all over your very exposed torso, finding all your weak points. He managed to find a spot right above your hip that was super sensitive, and you thrashed as hard as you could trying to throw your partner off of you.
“LOKI STAHAHAHP IT”! You tried to sound intimidating, but the amount of laughter you were spewing along with your red face made that impossible.
“No thank you, I found a spot and I am enjoying the sweet sounds I am forcing out of you”.
Loki booped you on the nose and you reacted by trying to bite his finger.
“Well, that's rude! You should play nice silly girl, or this will only get worse for you” Loki tutted at you and wiggled his finger as if he was scolding a young child.
“This is me being nice-ehehe NO!”
You tried to snap back at him, but he used the same finger he booped you with to swipe under your chin and down your neck. You let out a very high-pitched squeal and shook your head frantically.
Loki tutted at you again and gently held your head in place by putting his hand firmly on your forehead.
You felt the butterflies in your stomach explode as you quickly realized you could not move your head even an inch. You giggled uncontrollably as you anticipated what was going to happen.
Loki gave you a smirk. “Oh, what a pity. If you are giggling this madly already, I can only imagine what will happen to you when I do THIS”.
Loki shot his hand towards your neck and your laughter was riddled with insults, threats, and begging. Loki belted out a deep laugh as you opened your eyes and realized his fingers had stopped just short of their intended target.
Your eyes widened.
“No Loki- hehe please!!”
“No what dear? Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”
You felt your cheeks heat up again as you fell right into another trap.
“I- I uh plead the fifth!”
Loki smirked. “Not for long you won’t little birdie”.
Loki followed through this time and fluttered his fingers oh so gently on your neck and you soon lost your marbles.
Giggling, screeching, squealing. Your laughter echoed throughout the safe house whilst Loki had the largest smile on his face, seeing you wriggling and trying so desperately to move your head and protect the delicate skin he was torturing.
You caved after a couple of minutes and you felt a tear or two leak from your eyes.
“OKAAHAHAY YOU WIN! I LIKEEHEHE YOUUU!”
Loki stopped his hands and looked at you quizzically. Realizing you had inexplicably spilled the beans, you tried to backpedal.
“I uh I mean I -“
Loki cut you off as he leaned down to give you a light kiss. You kissed him back, hard. Both of your eyes gleamed as you broke apart.
“You think I didn’t already know that dear? You made it rather obvious when you blushed at the Art Studio. You can’t fake a blush”.
You blushed again. “I was too nervous to admit it, I didn’t know if you felt the same”.
Loki chucked. “Why else would I be tickling you to tears darling? Why would I have been so upset at that cretin earlier today? It’s because I care for you, deeper than a friendship goes”.
You hugged Loki and he helped you from your spot. Now sitting up and facing him, you felt the need to be cheeky once more.
“Well since you know I’m ticklish now, it’s only fair if you admit if you are ticklish as well.”
Loki scoffed. “You even think about revenge and next time I won’t go so easy on your sensitive little neck. I’ve heard that is a great spot to plant some raspberries.”
You involuntarily flinched at the thought.
“Well, at least I did learn something about you during this whole ordeal”.
Loki looked at you skeptically.
“You might be swift as a river, be strong as a raging fire, and have the force of a typhoon. BUT you most definitely are as mysterious as the dark side of the moon”.
Loki kissed you on the forehead.
“Now that is the most honest thing you have said all day”.
I apologize for my sudden disappearance and lack of writing. I recently just had my first child and am still learning how to be a mom 💕
My prompts are still closed, but I have decided to write again in the little free time I can find 😊 I am currently working on a Loki x Reader fic!
I am SO sorry for not realizing my masterpost links were all broken, so I have gone through and fixed them ❤️ Please let me know if one breaks again.
I have been lurking in the shadows for a while, but am glad to be back, even if it’s occasionally. Love you all very much! Thank you for still reading and sharing my fics even while I was gone❤️❤️
Awe I miss you too💕 I’m sorry I have not been writing recently. I graduated college and have been experiencing lots of life changes. I don’t know when I will get back to writing, but I am still around reading for sure 💕I appreciate all the support from everyone, and I hope to someday get the inspiration to write more. But for now I enjoy reading what you guys come up with💕
Hi, love your fics btw!!!! for some reason, the ‘click here’ links are not working on your masterlist :( do you mind posting this question to see if it’s just me? Xx
Oh shoot! Yes absolutely! If anyone (or you) have any specific ones, let me know and I’ll go remake the link see if that helps. Thanks for letting me know! 💕😊
