The night was still, lest for the sounds of your screams echoing through the halls of the vacant Avengers Compound. The mattress sunk with Loki’s weight as he fell beside you, pulling your sweating skin against his.
“I love you,” he panted hoarsely into your neck, quivering like a puppy left in the cold.
You, having come down from your high relatively fast, you giggled, “Aw, I love you too, my king.” With a toothy smile, you kissed him sloppily, letting your limbs tangle in his as you hid under the den of pillows and blankets.
His clammy hand shoved your naked waist playfully as Loki’s lips, soft as clouds, shook against yours. Teasingly, you bit down on the soft tissue of his bottom lip before finding yourself forced onto your back, a thoroughly flushed prince of stubbornness gawking down at you. “What the fuck is the matter with you?” he glowered, “Are you trying to suffocate me?”
“Ah– what’s with the attitude?” you smirked, taken aback by the sudden shift of mood.
Like a snobby school-child, Loki shut his eyes and perked up his sharp little nose, “I don’t remember consenting to breath play.”
Eyeing him up and down, you scoffed, “I seriously cannot believe you’re arguing with me buck-ass naked.” Your smirk widened.
“I’m serious!” he pouted, his swollen lower lip protruding endearingly.
His petulance struck you as uncharacteristically ironic, given this was the same man that held you in submission just minutes ago. The brooding God of Mischief, hovering over you would have had any mortal shivering. Yet here he was, literally collapsing at a single caress. You had to laugh.
Shoving away your hand that grazed his side, he whined, “S-stop laughing! Look, my lip is bleeding!”
So dramatic.
“Why are you so helplessly sensitive,” you taunted, visible goosebumps growing along his arms as you brushed his taut bicep. “Was I too rough, my love?”
“Stop,” he warned with his teeth clenched.
“Oh,” you growled, “but you don’t want me to.”
The ridges of his spine met your fingers as you ran them up his back, hitching Loki’s breath the moment you met the nape of his neck. “F-fuck you,” he hissed, ears turning a deep shade of red.
You bit your own lip involuntarily, “Again? Haven’t had enough of me?” Digging your nails into his shoulder blade so you could pull his ear to your lips, you whispered, “You want to fuck me?”
“Eerg,” he growled frustratingly, cupping his hand over your mouth. “You’re mocking me…”
Mustering your strength, you managed to flip Loki under you and straddle his waist. Locks of your wavy hair tickled his chest as you kissed his neck hungrily, a jaguar to its prey’s jugular. Slowly, you ground your hips against his abdomen and purred, “Such a brat.”
It was almost comical, the way Loki trembled, his deep baritone pitching up to a whimper. “You’re s-so–MH–i-irritating,” he rasped, digging his nails into the sheets. You nipped his jaw in response, drawing another guttural gasp. Despite your fervor clearly begging him for silence, Loki pressed on. “A-ah, I expect an a-apology. R-repent t-to your lo-lover f-for–su-such dis-respe-pect—”
“Fucking shut up before I make you,” you snarled, sliding your heat down his torso.
Loki’s chest heaved, spilling out quick, shallow gasps as he desperately grasped your forearm. “F-fuhck y/n, s-STOP!” he yelped.
You jumped back without hesitation, “Oh my God, did I hurt you?!”
His tensing overstimulated body seemed to gripe, veins jutting out in every direction as sweat collected at his brow. He looked so beautiful, so pathetic. “N-need a br-reak, p-please. It’s t-too much–”
His grip around your heart was vice-like. Your expression softened as you sat up and fell beside him to let your lover recover.
Though the corners of your mouth still curved upwards with mischievous intent. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in such a state, your Highness.”
“Mh, stop with the shitty formalities,” he sighed, his breath finally returning to a normal rhythm.
Your shoulders shook with laughter, “Seriously Loki, what happened? You never take this long to come down.”
“I-I’ve just,” he paused. The deep blue depths of Loki’s eyes met the concrete ceiling as color creeped up his neck. “I’ve never pe-eaked with such…intensity–”
You burst out laughing, “I-I’m sorry, you’re fussy because you came too hard?” Giggles hammered your head and ripped your chest.
“I’m never expressing any of my feelings to you ever again,” the moody teenager of a God scoffed and snapped his neck the other direction.
“I-hehe, I’m sorry for laughing,” you wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of your eye and shook his shoulder, “I really am, Loki.”
“You were mocking me for being weak,” he muttered.
A rogue bout of soft laughter rocked your chest, “No no! Loki, I just thought you were cute! I mean, who knew the God of Mischief, the formidable sorcerer, could experience sensory overload?” Tone pitching upwards, you snaked your arm around his toned back, letting your fingers squeeze the flesh of his cheek. “Look at youuuuu!,” you cooed, “My big, tough monster had enough?” You peppered kisses into the crook of his neck, smiling as he began to giggle.
“Ha! Stop it!” Loki giggled, crinkling his nose with a snort. His reddening shoulder nearly crushed your jaw. “ACK!”
“Gods, you’re such a brat,” you snarled in his ear, “what will I ever do with you?” Your fingers ghosted his side, eliciting another yelp.
Loki grabbed at your wrists, but your nimble hands bested him. “Thihis is CRUEL!” he cried, hiding his face in the pillow.
Suddenly, you latched onto his sides and attacked relentlessly, blowing unceremoniously into his neck. Everything drowned in Loki’s hysteria as you explored his body with your wicked fingers, exploiting every inch of vulnerable skin. “HAHAHA NG–”
As a literal God, Loki's strength against yours was unparalleled. However, try as he might, he could not turn the tables and overpower you.
At least not yet.
You shifted quickly to his ribs, counting between the spaces and driving him mad. His thrashing became so violent that at one point, he nearly punted you off the bed.
"Y-YouHuUuU ahAre In SO MUHUHUCH TROUHUBLE!" Loki threw his back to cackle anew.
Grinning as wide as the Cheshire Cat, you jumped onto him and shot your hands under his arms, leaning down to whisper seductively, “Oh, I’m terrified~”
Immediately, Loki crushed your fingers with his arms. His laughter raised an octave before turning silent. “P-pleEASE!” he whimpered, chest shaking with breathless giggles. The poor God, lying limp under you, began to turn a deep shade of scarlet. Noting his hiccoppy gasps, you finally relented, placing a gentle kiss to his lips.
Suddenly, Loki’s hand clasped your side and sent you tumbling onto his chest with a thud. You squealed as his threw his arms around you, trapping you in a sweaty death hug. “L-Loki!!,” you squeaked, “nonononoNO you’Re sO sWeaTY!”
Using the momentum he gathered, Loki intentionally slammed you into the hot sheets. He snarled as he jumped to his knees and pinned your wrists beside your head. Before you could protest, he devoured your lips, chuckling through his nose every time you squealed. He rendered you completely immobile, legs straddling your hips, heaving atop you. You opened your eyes, admiring his adorable red face as he pulled away and rasped, “Must I put you back in your place, darling?”
Your cheeks burned. Though, you were quick to quip, “Says the one who laid helpless, BEGGING for mercy.” You giggled and shook your head, “I mean, come on Loki! You were whimpering!!”
“Alright that’s it—” Loki shot his head to your neck, presumably to destroy it as you had to him.
You jerked fruitlessly against his rigid palms, “NO! P-LeHeheEasE! LoKi we c-can tALK about thihihis!!” All of your excuses soon melded into a drone of incoherent babbling.
Loki kissed your stubborn lips to shut you up. “Shhhh shhh,” he hushed, “you’re lucky I feel merciful today.”
“No tickling?”
“No tickling,” he assured. A breath of relief cooled your senses.
With a smile, you welcomed another slew of rapturous kisses. He shifted his lips down your jaw before nipping your neck, leaving fiery skin in their wake.
Your legs slackened along with your other muscles, pushing against Loki. The whole room became nothing but weightless wisps of color and matter in your periphery. Being so distracted, you missed the moment he slid down your body, placing his feather-like lips on your most sensitive areas. His kisses reignited the spark between your legs, arching your back eagerly. Loki vanished under the sheets, nipping your thigh and sending another delicious shiver down your spine.
But of course, your bliss was ephemeral. You could feel his lips curl into a smirk as he peppered playful kisses to the center of your belly.
The sensation made your heart flutter. Squealing, you muttered, “L-Lohohkiiii no!” You were met with a growl under the comforter as Loki roughened his kisses, now attacking just below your ribs. Vulnerability peaking, you frantically reached for the sheets to unveil the devil and run away. Though your opportunity was shattered when two arms shot out from the blanket and pinned your wrists to your sides.
Your ears pricked and your cheek burned. The notion of not being able to see and predict his next attacks left you restless, worsening the anticipation. “LOKI p-PLeAHAHA!”
“Hm?,” he hummed, muffled by the comforter, “What was that, darling?”
“N-AHAHA!!” you screamed as his kisses became soft nibbles just above your waistline.
Loki chortled, “Hmhmh, who’s sensitive now?” Your skin tingled with every soft bite. Desperately, you wriggled your hips to evade his gnawing, though as you pulled yourself onto your side, the struggle worsed.
What once was a soft, featherlight sensation became harsh and relentless. Loki snarled in victory, snaking a hand behind your back to push his lips further into your skin. Wickedly, he indulged the skin in the center of your naval, shaking his head wildly and blowing softly.
“AAAAAAAAHH NO!” you screamed as your body curled in an effort to protect your poor belly from his terrible lips. “LOKI IHIHI WILL–AAH–FUHUHCK–”
You could hear Loki laugh against your stomach as he cut you off with a harder raspberry. “Oh my, I beg your pardon?”
Hysteria crept into your frantic screams, inching them up another screechy octave. Your feet to his shoulders, you pushed until to your relief, you crashed onto the bedroom floor. Leaping to your feet immediately, you bolted to the door.
You assumed Loki conjured your pajamas for fear of unintentionally dashing out naked. However, before you even reached the door, Loki materialized in front of it. You stopped in your tracks.
“Darling,” he growled dangerously, his voice just over a whisper, “you wouldn’t want the entire campus to note your little weakness, hm?”
God, his rich, velvety voice made your knees weak. Though, you stood tall and kept your composure. An idea popped into your head as you lips curved into a smile. Hands outstretched, you threw yourself at Loki, ready to capture his ribs and revel in your revenge.
Then his apparition disappeared into nothing more than wisps of green magic.
Your jaw dropped, “The AUDACITY–HEY!” Two ticklish shocks shot through your sides, making you double over.
“Loki, who leaned over to mock your scarlet face, drawled, “Seriously. Fell for it again?”
He hoisted you violently over his shoulder before sauntering back to the bed. “You’re a goddamn cheater!” you cried, pounding your fists into his back.
“I,” he grunted as he threw you onto the sheets, “am The Trickster.” Laughing as he wrestled with your hands, he panted, “It’s my job.”
“NO!!” you screamed, suddenly helpless. Loki had pried your hands from your stomach, pinning them under his knees and slowly lifting your shirt. There was a high possibility that your heart would leap out of your chest and leave you dead by the end of this. The anticipation only made it worse, sucking in your belly as if that could stop him.
“You have the most adorable little tummy, princess,” Loki purred, letting the cool air waft over your stomach.
Your feet disheveled the sheets behind him, arching you back as he uttered ‘princess,’ “LOKIHEHE!”
“Crying my name won’t make a difference, my love,” he teased, falling onto his elbows.
“N-NONO!,” you squeaked at his sudden proximity. “LOKI J-JUHUHUST GET ON WITH IHIHIHIT!!”
“You’re asking me to blow,?” he gasped, feigning astonishment.
Cackles shook your entire body to the point that you couldn’t form coherent words. With a mischievous glint in his eye, Loki took a breath and blew the biggest raspberry directly over your belly button.
Another scream racked through your chest. “You’re loving this, aren’t you princess?” he seethed through his teeth.
“P-PLEAHA–NA!” He blew again, just as hard to the side of your stomach. “N-NO MOHOHOHORRREEE!!!”
“More?” he rasped, his grin widening. Your hands came loose from the friction. Instinctively your hands rushed to grab his, giggling as he pinned your hands above your head. Loki’s deep laughter melted into your mouth with his kiss. He wouldn’t relent.
While Loki kissed you, he dug his fingers all over your torso. You squealed into the kiss until his lips finally broke away, only to blow several, merciless raspberries over your belly button.
The next morning, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found a few cracks in the windows…
But you couldn’t turn away. Each time he drew his soap-frothed hands along his forearm, up to his shoulder, across his chest, you swore you pooled between your legs. Loki leaned his head back to sigh contently, the low grunt sparking a cascade of lewd fantasies in your mind. The soft gurgling of the water from his mesmerizing movements drowned out all other sound. His skin glistened, the ligaments of his neck meeting his protruding collarbone that welcomed his heaving chest and defined abdomen, lower and lower until your eyes conquered the conquest of his drenched body.
You were the filthy, worthless moth drawn to his striking, searing flame, a fire that scorched everything beneath it.
Warnings: violence, injury, strained past relationship with father/past verbal abuse, mourning of past loss of a parent, later gets kind of steamy (but SFW)
This was a really interesting and fun piece to write! 💚💚 I sort of love the relationship between Loki and the reader in this one 😍
Based on a few prompts: one prompt where reader has tattoos that she keeps hidden for sentimental reasons (with an added mini prompt suggestion), and another Prompt where reader doesn’t like her laugh because it’s too cute for someone who is a tough Avenger, and Loki seeks to prove it doesn’t matter.
PLEASE check out the warnings first - there's some sort of heavy content in this fic compared to most of my usual work. As always, completely SFW though!
"Steve - watch your six!"
"Got it!"
Clang.
The offending SPECTER soldier met the unforgiving edge of the iconic vibranium shield, his blaster sent catapulting from his hands as the force of the blow propelled him to the ground. Steve's blue eyes met yours for only a moment, the captain offering you a nod of thanks before you both dove back into the chaos.
A soldier rushed at you from your right. A swift planting of your non-dominant foot into the ground allowed you to aim a roundhouse kick at him before he could get his hands on you. The blow to the gut sent him reeling despite the armor covering his torso, a shout of surprised frustration barking out from beneath his black mask.
They always underestimated you. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Behind you, four more SPECTER soldiers fell victim to the broadside of Mjolnir, a lethal swinging blur in the hand of the God of Thunder. By his side, Loki effortlessly took down another three, the sharp edges of his blades finding the nearly imperceptible points of vulnerability within the soldiers' armor.
"Hey Rambo - there's an opening up ahead. We gotta get in there," Tony's voice ordered in your ear. Your eyes flitted up to the door to the research facility, catching the end result of Nat tackling a soldier to the ground as she wrestled his blaster from his hand. There was indeed a clear path, free from the hordes of soldiers still locked in combat with the other Avengers.
"Roger that." You took off sprinting toward the door, boots slamming rhythmically against the ground as you raced to catch up with the blur of red and gold metal that whizzed past your head. A blue flash of light blasted straight across your path, halting you in your tracks as a soldier opened fire at you from your left. Sunlight glinted against twirling metal just before one of Loki's daggers found its home in the soldier's abdomen, just below the breastplate of his armor. Whipping around, you saw Loki dashing in the same direction you were headed, shooting you a wink as he passed.
"You're welcome!" he called back to you. You raced after him with your renewed goal of storming the facility, scoffing as you caught up to him.
"I could've taken him!" you shot back with a grin.
"Oh, I'm certain of that."
That handsome smirk of his crossed his face, the one that always gave off the sense that he was withholding some snide or flirty comment, and you swiftly returned your attention to the door ahead of you. You couldn't be getting distracted by that in the heat of battle.
The door had already been blown open by a blast - courtesy of Tony Stark - and you and Loki ducked inside, with Bucky hot on your heels to assist. The foyer was teeming with more SPECTER soldiers dressed in black armor and black masks, already engaged in battle with Tony as he zoomed around dodging their fire and blasting right back with his outstretched palms.
Clouds of smoke billowed up around the room from the relentless blaster fire as you three late arrivals jumped into battle. Bucky's vibranium arm took hits without a scratch, and he used it as a personal shield as he charged at a cluster of three soldiers. You dove to the floor as blaster fire sailed over your head, somersaulting elegantly to a crouched position and sweeping the legs out from under the nearest soldier. Pushing yourself up onto your feet, you hooked an arm around the neighboring soldier's neck and wrenched him to the ground.
A second's lull in the attacks aimed toward you (the least threatening of the four of you present in the building by their standards) gave you the chance to glance around in search of the central communications hub. Straight ahead, a long hallway led straight to a set of double doors, behind which you could only hope was the room you were searching for.
"Checking the hallway, twelve o'clock," you muttered into your comms device as you took off in a sprint toward your destination.
"Roger that, Rambo," Tony's voice responded promptly, the echoes of the blasts bursting around the room resounding in the background. "Meet me there in sixty seconds."
You ducked low as you ran, making yourself as small as possible to evade fire. A soldier stepped out in front of you, blaster aimed straight at your face. You dodged right at the last second, the heat of the blast grazing your ear as you grabbed hold of his wrist and slammed your other forearm down against his, disarming him. You heard a shout and a thud behind you, pivoting just in time to see Loki driving his boot into another enemy's chest. You used the apparent distraction to yank on the wrist of the soldier who'd nearly blasted your head off, throwing him face-first to the floor. Loki ran by your side, completing the last leg of the sprint to the end of the hallway just as Tony unceremoniously blew the doors open.
Inside was, thankfully, a vast control panel of computers and radars that clearly indicated this was the communications hub you'd been searching for. You approached the central computer as Tony landed beside you, removing his Iron Man armor and setting it to sentry mode.
"Loki - be a dear and watch the door, will you?" you asked with mock sweetness. He rolled his eyes, grinning all the same at your cheek.
"Take your time, agent."
You got to work immediately, fingers flying furiously across the holographic keyboard as you worked your hacking magic on the enemy's electronics. A good fight was always a thrill, but this was the sort of work you really lived for. It was so satisfying, breaking past the flimsy firewalls and supposedly secure passcodes to enter into a sea of data, all available at your fingertips. Except you weren't seeking to take data this time. You were seeking to erase it.
Tony hovered over your shoulder, pointing irritatingly at the screen in front of you as though you didn't already know what you were looking for. "There - that's the SHIELD files."
"Seriously? For a group that prides themselves on being 'unseen and unheard,' seems like a rookie mistake saving your stolen files in your main hard drive..." you muttered tauntingly, making quick work of deleting the file from existence.
"Alright, good to go?" Tony urged.
"Stark - you know as well as I that we need to do a sweep to ensure there's no traces of data anywhere else in the system," you chastised, making a few additional clicks to scan the intranet.
"Remind me why I didn't decide to call you 'cyberpunk?'" Tony quipped. You glanced at him with a slight turn of your head, a half-smirk crossing your face.
"Because you know I'm a force to be reckoned with."
"Fair point. That, and you're crazy."
"Also a fair point."
"STOP!"
A hollering voice sounded, not from the door, but from the corner of the room. Your eyes flitted upward just in time to see a soldier aim his blaster straight at you. Above him, an open vent told you exactly how he’d slipped past your defenses. Unable to dodge quickly enough, you at least managed to turn your body sideways and minimize the impact as the fiery bullet skimmed across your lower ribs on its trajectory past you. Had you not twisted when you did, it most definitely would have burned a hole through your chest. Instead, it singed a hole in your shirt, sending a blinding, searing pain deep into your skin as it burned from the heat of the blast.
With a hiss of pain, your hands shot to the wound as you doubled over. Loki was on the soldier almost instantly, sending him crashing to the ground. Tony took over at the keyboard to complete the last of the sweep as Loki rushed to your side.
"You're injured."
"Yeah, no shit," you grunted through gritted teeth. Turning to Tony, you barked, "Finish scanning the system yet?"
"Just... about... done!" he responded triumphantly.
"Find anything?"
His face dropped into a scowl. "None of your business."
You snickered. "What would you do without me?"
"Yeah, yeah..." Tony activated the Iron Man suit, the metal pieces slamming in formation onto his body like a magnet. "Let's get you outta here, Rambo."
You waved him off dismissively, swallowing the gasp of pain that leapt up in your throat as you stood up straighter. "I'm fine. Let's go."
The jolting motion of each step sent a fresh wave of sharp pain through your wound, but you'd learned not to let it reflect on your face.
To show pain is to show weakness.
Your father always told you that growing up. No matter how many hits you took, he'd never let you so much as wince without reprimanding you. It was just one of the many harsh aspects of his training that you'd carried with you over the years. You supposed he had gotten you where you were, so he couldn't be blamed for his militaristic training methods.
The battle raged on in the foyer with what remained of the SPECTER soldiers guarding the interior. Loki notably stepped out ahead of you the moment you crossed through the doorway into the foyer, but you shoved your way past him to engage with a nearby soldier. You weren't going to let him shield you like that - not while you were still standing.
If you can stand, you can fight.
Your father's words once again echoed in your head. And fight, you would. Shoving the pain out of the forefront of your mind, you swung your fist in a right hook at the soldier's head, making him stumble from the impact. A hand closed around your forearm, and you nearly slapped it away before you realized it was Bucky's.
"Don't be stupid. You're injured," he scolded, gesturing to the hole seared into your shirt where your skin had been burned. You scowled, ripping your arm from his grasp.
"So I've been told. I'll be fine."
To appease your teammates, you at least began heading for the door, fighting only when necessary if a soldier hindered your progress. Tony had already jetted out, likely working to flag down the helicarrier so you could make your escape. The adrenaline of battle ebbed away at the pain, allowing you to focus on getting the hell out of there now that your mission had been completed. It seemed these SPECTER soldiers were in infinite supply - you may have been fierce, but you weren't foolish enough to think the band of heroes would be able to take down every last one of them.
Loki and Bucky were hot on your heels as you burst through the entryway to the building. Steve, Nat, and Thor were looking battle worn, Steve with a laceration to his forehead and Nat with a small burn on her shoulder where a blast likely grazed her skin. They both eyed your wound with concern, making you roll your eyes at the two of them.
"I'm fine!" you shouted as you slammed your heel into an oncoming soldier. "Let's go - the data's erased."
The deafening hum of the helicarrier approached your position as the aircraft appeared in the sky in front of you. The team bolted in unison toward it, ducking under blaster fire as the SPECTER soldiers followed in hot pursuit. The helicarrier hovered low enough to the ground to let out the boarding ramp, allowing the seven of you to hop on before rising into the sky once more. The sound of blaster fire faded into the distance as the aircraft carried you out of firing range.
Bruce appeared at the top of the boarding ramp, looking somewhat anxious with his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose and his graying brown curls mussed from dragging his own fingers through them repeatedly. Tony was the first to greet him, confirming that the mission had been successful.
"Now, take this one. She's injured," he ordered, pointing at you.
"Hey!" You scowled indignantly. "I'm just fine!"
"Your skin is torched," Steve argued, taking Tony's side. "Go. Get patched up."
"Ugh. Fine." You dragged your feet as you began to follow Bruce to the lab onboard the aircraft. Glancing back, you shouted, "Steve, you and Nat better come with. I'm not the only one who's injured."
Rolling their eyes, the pair of them followed along, knowing you would refuse help if they did.
Entering the lab, you were met with three of the team's medics who were prepared to treat your wounds. They took one look at you, deciding immediately that you would require the most intensive treatment of the three wounded and leading you to the skin regeneration table on board the ship. You reluctantly sat down on the edge of the table, glaring up skeptically at the medic who had taken on your treatment.
"I'll need you to remove your shirt," she instructed, busying herself at the control panel to the machine. Your heart jumped up into your throat at the suggestion.
"I'd rather not."
She glanced up from the computer, peering sternly at you over her spectacles. "How exactly do you propose we treat your burn, then?"
"Uh... you don't." You folded your arms defiantly across your chest. "It's just a surface wound. I'm fine."
The medic paced impatiently over to your side, kneeling down and inspecting the burn on your ribs. She clicked her tongue, shaking her head at your stubbornness. "This will quickly get infected if we do not treat it. Not to mention, it must be very painful."
"I can handle pain," you muttered bitterly under your breath. She gave you a hard look, and you threw your hands up in defeat. "Fine. Go finish programming your little machine, there."
It wasn't that you were trying to be difficult. Your mother had been a medic, so you had quite a bit of respect for their job. It was how she met your father, in fact. She’d been a SHIELD medic until her untimely death when you were only ten years old. Your father never forgave himself for not being there when the enemy stormed aboard the helicarrier that fateful day. He seemed to sort of snap after that, throwing all his efforts into his work, into training you to follow in his footsteps.
You reminded him of her, he always used to say. You wondered if that was the reason he treated you the way he did - pained by the constant memory of what he’d lost.
The real reason you were protesting so much was what was hidden underneath your shirt. Over the years, you’d accumulated a fair number of tattoos, each one easily hidden beneath your clothes and gear. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed by them - you were quite proud of them, actually - but many of them had a deep underlying meaning that you really weren’t interested in trying to explain to your teammates. It was difficult to talk about some of them. So you chose to keep them hidden, keep them close to you as a personal sentiment rather than wearing them openly as a badge of honor.
The walls of the lab were made completely of glass, which meant anyone outside of the room could easily peek inside and see you. If you made too big of a deal of it, inevitably passerby would recognize you were arguing and become more interested. So, instead, you tried to play it cool, grasping the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head. You had to carefully lift it around the burn to avoid irritating it with the fabric scraping across it. Goosebumps erupted on your skin in response to the cool air of the lab as you laid down on the table in nothing but your sport bra covering your upper body. You tried not to look down at the ink staining your skin to avoid drawing attention to the markings.
The medic started up the machine, and you watched impatiently as it sprang into motion, a strip of blue light kissing the wound as your skin knit itself back together. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it wasn't the most comfortable sensation either. The biggest annoyance, though, was how long it was taking to finish. Your eyes kept flitting over to the glass wall beside you, waiting for the inevitable moment someone passed by and saw you lying there on the table with nothing to cover the colorful markings etched into your skin.
Sure enough, Loki appeared on the other side of the glass twenty minutes later.
You couldn't blame him - he probably wanted to be certain you were alright, and it was taking an awfully long time to get this wound treated. In a way, you were somewhat flattered he'd come looking for you. But when his eyes locked on your bare left side, only partially blocked by your arm, skimming over the dragon tattoo that graced your ribs, you could see the curiosity flash on his face.
For a moment, he appeared to be considering entering the lab to talk to you, to inevitably ask the questions you'd been dreading. Fortunately, the medic caught his eye, shooing him with a wave of her hand as she drew the curtain hanging beside the regeneration table to block his view.
You wished you'd noticed it was there sooner.
It took another ten minutes to heal the wound completely, a raw-looking patch of new skin left in its place. The medic inspected her work with an air of pride before finally releasing you. The moment she did, you tugged your shirt back on over your head. With a hasty ‘thank you,’ you scurried out of the lab to your quarters to replace your singed shirt with a new one.
“Are you alright?”
You shouldn’t have been as surprised to hear Loki’s voice in your doorway as you were. Glancing up as you straightened the hem of your clean shirt at your hips, you were met with a concerned-looking Asgardian, though he was clearly trying to hide it. That was one thing you appreciated most about Loki - he never spoke to you or looked at you as a fragile mortal. He learned early on how fierce you could truly be.
“All healed,” you replied with a smile. “That regeneration tech is really something.”
Loki scoffed. “We’ve no need for that sort of thing in Asgard.”
“Well some of us aren’t literal gods, Loki.”
“Ah, but you fight as though you’re immortal like one.”
There it was - that teasing little smirk of his, his blue-green eyes flashing with the internal knowledge that there was something else going through his head that he wasn’t saying out loud. You tried not to let the heat creep up in your face.
“You were awfully nosy earlier, peeking in on me getting fixed up,” you chastised teasingly. “You know, we have privacy rules in Midgardian medicine.”
“I couldn’t help myself. You’ve never shown that much skin before. Forgive me for being… intrigued.”
Ok, the heat was definitely settling in your cheeks now.
“What was that marking you have on your side?”
Ah. There it was, the inevitable question.
“It’s a tattoo,” you responded casually, breaking eye contact to look down at your hands.
“A tattoo?”
“Yes. Ink etched into skin. A sort of art form here on Midgard.”
You chanced a glance up at him, finding a genuinely curious expression on his face. It made you shift uneasily in your seat atop your bed.
“Might I see it?”
You winced, turning your head. “I’d rather not.”
“I apologize. I didn’t intend for it to sound inappropriate.”
Looking back toward him, you offered a weak smile. “No, it’s not that.” With a chuckle, you added, “When have you known me to be self-conscious?”
Loki grinned. “Never. Though, as I said - you’ve never shown that much skin before.”
You let out a slow breath. “It’s just… well, I don’t like to talk about them. My tattoos.”
“Do you not like them?”
“No, I do. It’s… they’re sort of personal to me.”
He nodded slowly, that smirk returning to his face. “Perhaps someday you’ll feel comfortable showing me?”
“Are you asking for me to get personal with you?”
He shot you a wink as he stepped backward out of the doorway. “I certainly wouldn’t mind.”
Your jaw went slack as he vanished around the corner.
Loki had this way of bantering with you that toed the line between friendly and flirty for quite some time now. You never really thought much of it - just sort of chalked it up to Loki being Loki, the silver-tongued God of Mischief. Though, admittedly, you'd never seen him behave in the same way around any of the others. Still, you never took it too seriously. You couldn't lie and say you would be opposed to becoming something more with him. It just had always seemed so far out of the realm of possibility for a mortal.
But that comment... that was the first time he'd said something that alluded to the possibility that he just might feel the same way.
He began to ask you about your tattoos every so often after that. Probing you to see if you'd cave and let him see, let him in on such a personal attribute of yourself. He never pushed you too hard, of course. The idea of possibly letting him in on those parts of you was simultaneously terrifying and exhilarating. More and more, you found yourself wanting to share them with Loki. To let yourself be vulnerable for once in your life.
That was something your father had never taught you to do. To be vulnerable. Vulnerability was weakness to him, and so you learned to shove down everything you ever felt and pack it away in the back of your mind to avoid letting it reflect on your face, in your movements. You'd seen your teammates be openly unguarded with one another, sharing in their heartaches as they did their victories, and you longed for the ability to do the same. It had been so engrained in you to hide everything since your childhood that you weren't really sure where to start.
Loki wasn't exactly the most open-book sort of person either. Perhaps that was a good thing. You could figure it out together.
It was probably around the sixth or seventh time he’d brought it up that you finally caved.
You’d been in the fitness room back in the tower, now that the team was safely stationed back on solid ground. It was one of those rare instances that the room was otherwise empty, and you were not about to pass up that opportunity.
After only ten minutes of hitting the heavy bag, your knuckles were beginning to sting and sweat was beading on your brow from the intensity of your workout. Around the others, you typically tried to tone it back a bit, but when you were by yourself, your old training regimes came back to you.
Finally feeling satisfied with the divots you’d punched into the leather, you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand and reached down for your water bottle. Just as your fingertips touched the condensation building along the chilled plastic, the bottle suddenly slid a few feet to the left, seemingly of its own accord. But you knew better by now.
“Loki, I’m thirsty,” you griped, glancing over your shoulder at the smug-looking trickster who was now standing behind you. “Can’t you at least save your little tricks for after I get to take a sip?”
"Then it wouldn't irk you nearly as much. Where is the fun in that?"
"Is that the sole reason you came in here? To get on my nerves?" A grin pulled at your lips as you took the swig of water you'd been craving.
"Perhaps I wanted to exercise."
You waved your hand in a sweeping motion around the room. "Have at it, then."
He followed along behind you as you made your way across the gym to the pull-up bar. "But getting on your nerves is much more interesting."
"Of course it is." You plunked your water bottle down beside the mats on the hardwood, rubbing your hands together before stepping under the bar and grabbing hold with both hands. "What else are you planning to annoy me with today?"
"Oh, well that's no fun. I can't irritate you on command."
You pulled yourself effortlessly up, lifting your chin over the bar before lowering yourself down once again. "Then maybe you should go exercise."
He shrugged. "I've lost my interest. A god doesn't need to exercise anyhow."
You sniffed out a laugh, pulling yourself up over the bar again. Obviously he'd come in here with the sole purpose of talking to you. He often hovered as you did your own workouts, chatting with you and making teasing comments about your mortal need to exercise to build your strength. In return, you teased that you would become stronger than he was if he didn't start exercising himself.
You didn't mind having his company. He was the only one you'd allow to hang around you like this while you did your workouts.
"You still haven't shown me these tattoos of yours," Loki stated suddenly as you relaxed your arms to dangle from the bar. You released it in your surprise, feet slamming down onto the padded gym mat beneath you with a thump.
"What made you think of that?"
He pointed to your right hip, where a small phrase was tattooed just above your hipbone on your side, hidden underneath your shirt. "Your shirt rode up a bit just now."
"Did you read it?" you asked hesitantly. Loki shook his head.
"I couldn't see the whole thing." He flashed you his trademark smirk, the one that made you weak in the knees. "I must say, you've got me rather curious."
You grinned. "It's killing you, not knowing what they are, isn't it?"
He clicked his tongue. "You're infuriating, teasing me like that."
"And you're nosy."
"I never said I wasn't."
You sighed, pressing your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you tried to fight back a smile. "Alright. I'll show you. But I need to shower first."
"Fair enough."
You directed him to stop by your room in a half hour, heading up to wash off the sweat from your workout. Once you'd cleaned up, you tied your hair back rather than bothering to dry it all the way, throwing on a pair of sweatpants and a sleeveless top. You only owned a couple of those, preferring to wear shirts with sleeves to better conceal your tattoos. It always struck you how exposed you felt even just baring your shoulders. You threw a zip-up hoodie on over it, despite the fact it wasn't cold, just for the added sense of coverage of your skin.
A knock at your door sounded right at the time you'd told Loki to swing by. You opened the door and allowed him inside your room, shutting the door behind you.
This wasn't the first time he'd been in your room. He'd come by a few times in the past, usually to seek council from you when he was arguing with his brother. Although, once, he'd stopped by to check on you when you'd fallen ill with the flu. That had been a rather unexpected visit, but a pleasant one nonetheless, when he'd delivered you a bowl of hot soup after hearing Wanda say it was something Midgardians did when someone was sick.
Despite all that, it still felt foreign having him in your room today. Perhaps because you weren't sure how best to approach the reasoning behind his visit. He stood in the middle of your room, gazing at you questioningly as though trying to determine whether he should sit down or not. You motioned to the edge of your bed, inviting him to sit down beside you as you perched yourself atop your bedspread.
"Understand that you are privileged to be able to see these," you declared sternly. "I don't go around showing my tattoos to everyone."
"Are you certain you're alright with it?"
The uncertainty in his tone startled you. He had an intense look in his eyes as he gazed at you, as though trying to read your mind. Hesitantly, you nodded.
"Yes. I... trust you. It's just hard to share some of the stories behind them."
With a nervous hand, you unzipped the hoodie and shrugged it off, setting it down on the end of the bed. His eyes were immediately drawn to the words inked just below your collarbone on the right side, covered partially by your tank top sleeve. You pushed it aside and allowed him to read the phrase etched on your skin.
With pain comes strength.
"That one is in memory of my father," you explained before he could ask. "He's the reason I became a SHIELD agent."
"I'm sorry you've lost him."
You cringed at the thought that ran through your mind in response. I'm not.
"He was... difficult," you explained. You could tell Loki knew you were sugar-coating it by the skeptical raise of his brow. "He stopped being a father when my mother died. After that, he became nothing more than my instructor, my fighting coach. He... pushed me to become a SHIELD agent like he was."
"Is that what you wanted?"
"Yes... and no." You turned around to allow Loki to see the tattoo between your shoulder blades, the thin black parallel lines and circles designed to depict a circuit board. "I've always been into computers. If I'd had my choice, I'd have worked in the technology department in SHIELD. Developing new gear, programming new A.I.s, hacking into bad guys' systems from afar..."
"Why didn't you?"
"My father wanted me to be a field agent like he was. He always said the techy agents were the ones who were 'too weak to throw a punch.'"
You felt his finger suddenly tracing along the lines of the tattoo, down along your spine, and you shivered. Loki apologized and retracted his hand.
"It's alright, you can touch it. Just warn me next time, will you?" you griped, turning your head to grin at him and let him know you didn’t mind. He smirked right back, lifting his hand to the markings between your shoulders once again. The pads of his fingers were soft against the smooth skin of your back. It had been years since someone had touched your bare skin. It felt foreign to you, but it felt... nice. His touch was almost reverent as he traced along one of the sharp bending lines that bordered your shoulder blade.
"Show me another one," he requested. You felt an odd sense of loss when his fingers left your back. Turning back towards him, you shifted to point out one of the few colorful tattoos you had inked into the outside of your upper right arm, normally hidden even beneath the short-sleeved T-shirts you wore. It was a small hummingbird, with feathers of blue, green, and pink and wings flared out as though in flight.
"My mother always loved hummingbirds," you murmured, feeling a painful lump forming in your throat.
"What happened to her?" Loki asked quietly.
"Ambush. She was a medic on board the helicarrier that my dad was stationed on. They never saw it coming." You released a shuddering breath. "I was only ten, but I remember it like it was yesterday, the day my father came home and told me she was dead."
Loki placed a gentle hand on your forearm in comfort. You glanced up at him, blinking back the tears blurring your vision as you fought to keep them from spilling over. To show pain is to show weakness. You had to remind yourself again that the reason you chose the phrase along your collarbone was to rewrite those words your father used to tell you in a more positive light. With pain comes strength. You just weren't used to showing it to other people.
"My mother was killed in an ambush as well." Loki’s voice sounded heavy, laden with sadness and possibly even a touch of guilt.
"I'm sorry," you breathed, placing your hand over his where it still rested on your arm. He allowed it for a moment, then cleared his throat and lifted his hand, and you followed suit. With a watery laugh, you told him, "I do have some with happy memories, I swear."
"Go on then. Show me."
You scooted backward a bit on the bed, bending your knee and rolling up your pant leg to show him the small black anchor tattooed on your ankle. "My friend and I got matching ones when we were younger. We used to go sailing every summer. This one's small, but it hurt like hell getting it done."
"Is it often painful?"
"More like... scratchy. But this one hurt."
You let your leg drape back over the bed, shaking it a bit to unfurl your pant leg to cover your ankle once again. Loki's eyes flitted down to your hip where he'd seen your shirt ride up earlier.
"You've yet to show me that one," he urged, gesticulating toward the spot. You let out a breathy laugh through your nose, lifting the hem of your shirt to expose your right side. The words were small, and Loki leaned down a bit to read them.
"You are enough." His eyes lifted to once again meet yours, his face startlingly closer to your own now that he'd shifted closer to see the black ink scrawled across your side. A tilt of his head told you he wanted to know the story behind it. This was quite possibly the hardest story to tell, and you braced yourself for it.
"That one, I got to remind myself that no matter what harsh words my father had for me... I am not worthless."
Loki hummed thoughtfully. "I'm beginning to dislike this man more and more."
You laughed despite yourself. "I doubt you'd have gotten along with him if he were still alive. He was no-nonsense - he didn't like to joke around, always straight down to business. Maybe that's why you and I get along so well."
"Oh?"
"I was a mischievous kid, you know. Dad always hated that. For a while, it only made me try harder to get on his nerves, just to defy him." You grinned at the trickster. "I bet you were a little monster when you were a kid."
Loki let out a rumbling chuckle from deep in his chest, one that made your heart flutter in your chest. "I certainly wasn't an angel - let's leave it at that."
You let go of your shirt to let it drape back over your hip, hiding the black ink from view once again. Loki looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to show him the last one.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" You tried to look confused, biting back a teasing smirk. He saw right through it, folding his arms sternly across his chest with a grin.
"Oh, come now. You can't expect me not to ask about the one on your other side - not after I saw a part of it while you were in the lab the other day."
"You saw the whole thing!"
"Your arm was blocking it. Don't try to get out of this one, darling."
You huffed through your nose, shaking your head in defeat. In truth, this was your favorite out of all of them. It was also the largest and most intricate tattoo you had. You'd debated it for months before having it done, knowing you wanted to be certain you'd love it if you were to get something this extensive inked permanently into your skin. The fact that Loki was so curious about it made you a bit giddy to show it to him, but you simply had to tease him a bit first.
"Oh, alright. I suppose I can show you again."
You turned around to sit with your left side facing Loki, seated cross-legged on the bed. Gradually, you rolled your shirt up to the middle of your ribs, revealing the dragon tattoo you had winding up the span of your side. Various shades of blue and black ink added depth and dimension to the dragon's scales as it twisted from just above your hip to the middle of your ribs.
Loki's eyes roamed curiously over the image inked into your skin. "What's the story behind this one?"
You turned your head just slightly, enough to flash him a sly smirk. "I just like dragons."
A breathy laugh escaped his nose. "I can appreciate that." He lifted his hand hesitantly, catching your eye. "May I?"
You nodded, eyes shifting to watch his hand as he gently touched his fingertips to the bare skin overlaying your ribs, tracing along the snout and head of the dragon. It took every ounce of effort you had not to flinch at his touch. Holy hell, it tickled. It had been some time since anyone had attempted to tickle you, and you'd forgotten how terribly sensitive you were. What you hadn't forgotten was the squeaky, girlish laughter that burst out of you whenever someone managed to find a particularly weak spot. It was far from the tough façade with which you'd learned to carry yourself. So, whenever a friend happened to try to tickle you, you either withheld your reactions long enough for them to grow bored, or you scolded them into thinking you didn't want them to touch you.
But Loki's tender touch was not unwelcome. Quite the opposite, really. If only you weren't so damned ticklish, you could melt right into it. You could not let him know what he was doing to you. You knew the God of Mischief well enough to know that the moment he found out how ticklish you were, he'd go searching for the spots and pressure that might actually make you laugh those embarrassingly cutesy giggles of yours.
His fingertips glided along the dragon's spine, winding back and forth down the length of your ribs. You balled your hand into a fist and curled your toes as you willed yourself not to react. Goosebumps rose along your skin in the wake of his fingertips as they flitted down the softer skin of your side, tracing down along the dragon's tail. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding the moment his finger paused at the very tip of the tail, just above your hipbone, only to suck it right back into your lungs as he reversed direction and began tracing back up the way he'd come.
"Am I tickling you?"
He had an impish lilt to his tone that made your stomach flip as your eyes darted up to meet his. You opened your mouth to deny it, and he purposely lightened his touch with the intention to make it tickle as he continued ghosting his fingertips along the image on your skin. Your hand shot to your mouth to stifle a giggle on instinct.
"Damn," you muttered, voice muffled in your palm. That godforsaken handsome smirk spread across his face, and you knew you were in trouble. You brought your arm down to cover your side, releasing your shirt in hopes it would slip down to cover your bare skin and offer a bit of protection, but it was bunched around your midsection where you'd rolled it up.
"I wasn't finished admiring your tattoo, you feisty little dragon," he scolded teasingly, his hand closing around your wrist and prying your arm from your side.
"L-Loki! You brat!" You wrenched your wrist from his grasp, only for him to catch it in his other hand as you swatted at him playfully. "N-noho! Don't you dare!"
His free hand found your side, fingers flitting ticklishly over the bare skin wrapping around toward your belly. You clapped your hand back over your mouth as another little giggle threatened to burst out, shaking your head with wide eyes at your flirtatious assailant. Loki withdrew his hand, releasing your wrist with a concerned, hesitant look on his face.
"I apologize - do you not like to be tickled?"
You lowered your hand from your mouth, tugging your shirt down on instinct but softening your expression. "No, it's not that. I just... it's embarrassing."
"You're embarrassed by being tickled?"
"By my laugh."
Loki cocked his head inquisitively. "You laugh all the time." Boastfully, he added, "I am quite funny, after all."
"You keep telling yourself that," you teased, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I don't mind my usual laugh, but... god this is embarrassing... I sort of laugh... differently when someone tickles me."
Loki's eyebrows shot up his forehead, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Now I'm very intrigued."
"Well that's a shame, because I'm not gonna- HEY!" You swatted at his hand as it darted out and pinched your ribs, barely withholding a giggle. "No, none of that! I don't want you to hear it! It's embarrassing!"
"Explain to me how your laugh can possibly be that embarrassing that you won't allow me to tickle you."
"First off, no one allows anyone to tickle them-"
"So you'd prefer I take you down by force and tickle you instead?"
Your face caught fire, and you were somewhat mortified to realize that part of the reason was because you didn't mind that idea in the slightest.
"N-not the point. AS I was saying... my ticklish laugh is... ugh, it's-squeaky-and-cutesy-and-terrible." You were surprised Loki could even understand what you said, the words came tumbling out of your mouth so fast. Based on the sly, flirty grin that crossed his face, you knew he understood every word.
"That sounds charming."
You swatted his hand away once again as he reached for your side. "That's exactly the problem! I'm not meant to be adorable! I'm a SHIELD agent - I can take guys down with my bare hands, I know how to handle nine different types of weapons-"
"And you're adorably ticklish. I don't see the problem here."
"Loki!" You hid your burning face in your hands, only to bring your arms right back down as his fingers skittered across your belly. With a non-threatening growl, you smacked his hand away once again. Truthfully, you were loving this playfulness. This sort of interaction was something you seriously lacked as a kid, your childhood stolen away from you in favor of long hours of relentless training and cruel words. Still, you weren't sure how keen you were on allowing Loki to hear your childish-sounding giggles.
"You don't need to be the tough, hardened SHIELD agent every waking hour of the day," he insisted. "In fact, I rather enjoy this softer side of you."
"Really?"
He nodded, a smirk spreading across his lips. "What's life without a bit of laughter?" he asked, experimentally squeezing your hip and earning another slap on the wrist. "Now then. I'd very much like to hear this 'squeaky and cutesy and terrible' laugh of yours. And as you so astutely stated, no one simply allows someone to tickle them..."
You laughed nervously as he caught hold of your wrist, wrenching your free arm out of his reach before he could get his hand on the other one. He tutted at you, shifting to kneel beside you on the bed so he could gain leverage to increase his efforts to capture you in his hold. His hand reached out for yours again, and you swiftly hid it behind your back.
"You are well aware this is a fruitless endeavor, attempting to evade capture." He smirked devilishly at you. "Eventually you know I'll overpower you."
Despite the fact that you weren't exactly excited about the prospect of Loki hearing your less-than-threatening bubbly giggles, you found that you trusted him completely. You trusted that he cared about you - perhaps cared for you, if you could be so fortunate - and you trusted that he would never say something hurtful to you.
You trusted him enough that when he finally did catch your other wrist and wrestle you down onto your back, you didn't fight as hard as you knew you could as he pinned your wrists beneath his knees.
"Lohoki you AHASS!" you cried, squirming under his gaze.
"You wound me, darling." He let his hands hover threateningly over your sides, knowing already that you were ticklish there at least to a lighter tough. You stiffened in anticipation of his impending attack. "Let's hear that laugh then, hmm?"
His hands latched onto both sides, kneading into the soft, sensitive skin. You sucked in a breath and squeezed your eyes shut, trying to withhold your laughter despite how horribly ticklish the sensation was. Undeterred, he let his hands wander in search of a weak spot, one hand clawing its way into the center of your belly while the other ascended your ribcage.
"Come now, darling... laugh for me," he urged teasingly, swapping his hands to dig one into the spot just below your ribs and slotting the other up under your arm. You clamped your mouth shut tight, letting out a screech of protest from deep in your throat through your nose as you kicked your heels against the mattress. He had you writhing with the gentlest scratching of his fingertips at that spot under your ribcage, and the fingers wriggling into the pliant skin beneath your arm were certainly not helping matters.
However, neither compared to the agonizingly ticklish sensation as his hand descended from your ribs to the side of your belly, about halfway between your navel and your side. Just one scratch at that spot and you were done for.
Those silly ticklish giggles poured from your lips, only increasing in speed and volume when he realized what was causing your sudden outburst of laughter and dropped his other hand to the other side of your belly. You giggled and squeaked, writhing and kicking helplessly as a fond grin spread across his face.
"There it is." Loki scratched faster at the torturous spot, his grin widening as your eyes scrunched shut and you threw your head back with desperate laughter. "I don't know what you're talking about - this is a very normal-sounding laugh."
"SHUHUT UHUP, YOHOU!"
"That's quite rude of you - I'm trying to make you feel better. The least you can do is not shout at me." He wrapped his large hands around your sides, toggling circles into those same spots on your belly with both thumbs while scratching at your sides. A giggly screech ripped through your chest as your back arched, then finally you went limp against the bedspread as your own hysterical laughter overpowered you.
But not once did you tell him to stop. Not once did you want him to stop. Sure, the sensation was overwhelming, ticklish shocks shooting through your nerves with every squeeze of his fingers into your middle. But you trusted Loki. Enough to let yourself be vulnerable with him, just as you had been when you'd explained the stories behind each of your tattoos. His touch was mischievous, but it was kind and playful, and you hadn't laughed like this in a very, very long time. Your abdominal muscles ached and your laughter was becoming breathless, but it felt good. Refreshing.
Loki relented, having succeeded in his mission to make you laugh. Your mind was fuzzy as you sat up, smoothing your hair down as your giggles slowly faded. He flashed you his smirk, and you shot him a hardly-menacing glare.
"I don't believe there is anything 'terrible' about that laugh of yours," he assured with a wink. You swatted his shoulder jokingly.
"Yohou suck," you grumbled. Then, with a glint of mischief in your eyes, you dropped your hand down to his side and swiftly pinched at the soft spot a few times. He merely stared down at your hand, unmoving, then looked up to meet your eye with an impossibly wider smirk. Your jaw dropped indignantly. "No. No way are you not ticklish."
"Not in the same way you are."
"So you are ticklish, then."
"In exactly two places, yes."
With a fierce look of determination, you brought your other hand over to dig into his lower ribs. He sighed as though you were boring him, casually taking hold of your wrists and prying them away from his sides.
"Hey!"
"As you stated earlier - no one simply allows someone to tickle them." He grinned, holding fast to your wrists as you tugged and twisted to try to free them from his grip. He was teasing you now, you knew - not doing anything but preventing you from continuing on your mission to find the two solitary places he was ticklish.
"Oh, come on!" you groaned, shifting to sit on your knees to be able to push harder against his hold. "Now I - mmph - I need to know where!"
Loki chuckled fiendishly. "I'm sorry to tell you, darling, but you're going to have to work for it."
Growling, you threw your weight forward to try to catch him off guard and knock him backward. You nearly succeeded, but he regained his balance at the last moment, suddenly shoving your wrists in retaliation and easily slamming you down onto your back once again with your arms pinned beside you. He loomed over you with a self-assured grin, gradually dragging your arms up above your head as you began protesting and laughing all at once.
"What - did you think I was going to make it easy for you, little spitfire?" He gathered your wrists in one hand, lowering the other to your right hip and slipping it up under the hem of your shirt. "Is this tattoo of yours ticklish as well?"
"How should I know- hehey!! Lohohoki!!" You let out a few giggles as his fingers swept maddeningly gently over the bare skin above your hip where the words were inked into your skin. He clicked his tongue, grinning victoriously.
"Ah, I see it is. Tell me - do the tattoos make your skin more ticklish in those spots? Or have you always been this sensitive?"
"I-hi hahate you." You twisted to evade his fingers, and rather than trying to follow you, he turned his attention to the words under your collarbone, lightly tracing his finger along the looping text. A surprised giggly shriek burst from your lips at the sensation, a stretch of skin you'd never anticipated would be ticklish and yet it was making your nerves tingle.
"This one too? Perhaps it's the ink, then?" He shot his hand down to your belly, scratching at the weak spot he'd discovered earlier and throwing you into hysterics. "Although, that wouldn't explain why this makes you laugh so hard."
Your half-hearted protests were lost beneath the sound of own laughter, amplifying when Loki released your wrists in favor of digging into the other side of your belly. Your hands grasped feebly at his wrists, then wrapped around your midsection, all failed attempts to lessen the ticklish feeling of his fingers clawing at your skin. In a last-ditch effort, you slotted your thumbs up under his arms, digging your eight fingers into the backs of his ribs.
Loki spluttered, removing his hands from your belly to sit up and shift out of reach of your fingers. But you were swift. You practically threw yourself at him, not even considering the implications as you wrapped your arms tight around him and pinned his arms to his sides. Without waiting for him to start fighting back, you latched your fingers onto those spots on the backs of his ribs and launched a ten-fingered attack.
"Pfft yohou lihittle..."
Whatever he was planning to call you, you never found out. The rumbling, deep laughter that burst from the trickster's chest was startling. You'd never heard him laugh before. Sure, he chuckled snarkily all the time, but to hear him really laugh... It was quite possibly your new favorite sound. Still, you couldn't pass up the opportunity to tease him for it.
"Ah-ha!! I found one!" you cried triumphantly, tightening your hold as he began trying to throw you off him. You squeaked as his hands found your sides and squeezed, digging your fingers into his ribs faster to deter his counterattack. You could feel his muscles weakening in your hold from his laughter. You leaned back a bit to look him in the eye, flashing him a smirk reminiscent of the mischievous god himself. "Oh-ho-ho, you're so screwed."
His eyes locked on yours for a moment, those blue-green irises practically glowing.
What happened next, you couldn't possibly have anticipated.
Loki suddenly allowed himself to fall backward, bringing you down on top of him with a surprised yelp. The shock of it made you loosen your grip, scrambling to plant your knees on either side of his hips to regain some semblance of leverage, preparing yourself for his ticklish retaliation. His hands found your hips, and you opened your mouth to begin playfully scolding him.
Anything you would have said to him was muffled against his mouth as he captured your lips with his.
For a brief moment, you stiffened, more than a bit shocked by this sudden advance. As your mind processed what was happening, you relaxed into his arms, melting as you sighed blissfully against his lips. Loki's hand slipped under the hem of your shirt, making you gasp and tense in anticipation of more tickling, but he kept his touch firm as he slid his palm along the side where the dragon tattoo adorned your skin. Your lips curled up into a grin against his, parting from him just slightly to look at him through hazy eyes.
"Is that one your favorite too?" you mumbled. That smirk that always made you weak in the knees graced his lips as he nodded, running his palm back down along your side.
"I'd like to see it again."
"Mm... later." You silenced him once again with another kiss, savoring in the taste of his lips. His hand came to rest on your hip once again, the other rising to cradle your neck as he lifted his head slightly to deepen the kiss.
There was no way of knowing how much time passed while your lips were locked with Loki's. And in all honesty, you didn't really care. Not once in the entirety of your life had anyone made you feel this good. If this was your reward for being open and vulnerable with him... well, perhaps you'd need to do it more often.
You let him kiss you until you became breathless, finally forcing yourself to part from his lips to get some air. He let his hand at your neck slide down to your shoulders as he lifted his lips to kiss along your jawline.
"You... you just kissed me to make me stop tickling you, didn't you?" you teased. He grinned, pressing one last kiss to your neck.
"It worked, did it not?" You scoffed and rolled your eyes with a laugh. "In any case, no. I kissed you because I wanted to. That was just an added bonus."
You leaned down to press gentle kisses along his jawline to return the favor, grinning as you heard his breath hitch in his chest. "You know..." you mumbled between kisses, "... you're not getting out of telling me where your other tickle spot is just by kissing me."
Loki hummed thoughtfully, lifting his head to recapture your lips with his once again. You considered scolding him for attempting to evade the question once again, but you allowed it, pressing your lips harder against his and kissing him fervently. His hands slid firmly down your sides and along your hips, coming to rest at the back of your thighs just above your knees. He let his head fall back against the mattress to break apart from your lips once again, and you barely registered the mischievous glint in his eyes in your euphoric daze.
"Why don't I just show you instead?"
Caught off guard after being lulled into a kiss-drunken trance, you didn't have time to react as you felt his fingers hook around the undersides of your knees, shifting up just a couple inches and scratching at the apparently hypersensitive patches of skin just above your knees on your inner thighs. An embarrassingly high-pitched shriek burst from your lips at the sudden sensation, collapsing against Loki and burying your face in his shoulder to muffle your desperate giggles.
"MM-HMM LOKIHI!" you squealed, trying to roll off of him. Loki held fast, his fiery fingers fluttering and sweeping along the cotton fabric of your pants covering those wretched spots above your knees. You kicked your feet against the mattress in protest, earning a laugh from the mischievous god as he finally showed you mercy. His hands left your knees so his arms could wrap tightly around your waist, squeezing you to his chest.
"It seems we have that spot in common, don't we, darling?" he murmured in your ear teasingly. You growled playfully, lifting your head to glare at him.
"I'm beginning to think that kissing me was all a ruse to be able to torment me," you scolded jestingly. He responded by rolling swiftly, pinning you on your back and gazing down with nothing but adoration in his eyes.
"There are many more reasons than that for me to want to kiss you." To emphasize, he ducked his head to kiss you once more, stealing your breath away. You laughed against his lips, drinking in his kiss for a moment before swiftly latching your hands around the backs of his knees and targeting those same spots he'd just demonstrated on you moments ago. He barked out a surprised laugh at your ticklish touch, toppling sideways onto the bed to escape your fingers. You managed to continue a moment longer before he captured your hands in his, raising them to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of your palms.
"Mm... you're no fun," you whined, eliciting an amused laugh from the trickster.
"I beg your pardon - as I recall, I just made you laugh for the last twenty minutes," he retorted with mock indignance.
"That might be an exaggeration. But, I'll let you have it."
Loki propped himself up on his elbow, reaching over and gently grasping the hem of your shirt in his hand with a pleading look in his eyes. "Might I see it again, now? I promise I won't tickle you."
Your cheeks warmed as you nodded, allowing him to slide your shirt up to reveal the dragon tattoo once again. He smoothed his palm over it with enough weight in his touch not to tickle, just as he'd promised.
"This one suits you," he declared after gazing at it a moment longer.
"Oh? And why is that?"
"It's elegant and beautiful, and yet simultaneously fiery and fierce. Much like you."
You turned his words over in your mind, a grin tugging at your lips. "You know... I never thought of it that way. I like that."
It was true - you'd honestly gotten that tattoo because you liked it. The one tattoo that had no story behind it, and yet Loki found a way to make it the most meaningful of all of them. You strove to be fiery and fierce, but you'd never thought yourself to be elegant and beautiful until Loki suggested you were. It was perfect - the perfect blend of your past and the future you were striving for.
Loki smirked as he watched you react to his words, that smirk you were beginning to love more and more each time he showed it to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you close, eyeing your lips hungrily as your face burned under the weight of his gaze.
Bidding her goodnight, you snuck out of the room and tiptoed to your quarters, which were much less golden and glamorous. It was quite late, your steps guided by the white moonlight that seeped through the arched windows.
However, a warm glow emanated in your periphery, calling you to investigate. Curiosity peaking, you turned left and cautiously slipped through the door left ajar. No one should be up at this time, for it was nearly dawn.
Upon entering, you found yourself in another exceptionally luxurious room, yet this one was different from the rest. It was much more tasteful, contrasting with the overt display of wealth everywhere else in the palace. To your right was another open door from which steam plumed. Every cell in your body told you to go back, but you placed a foot over the other.
The steam carried lavender, rosemary, and leather that wafted harmoniously into your nose, drawing you even closer. You hid beside the door frame and slowly peered past the threshold.
Your jaw dropped.
Lounging in the boiling tub was a man chiseled out of stone, features sharp as daggers, green veins running down his taut forearms and webbing over his hands as he gripped the dripping porcelain. He exhaled, the sound of his velvety voice erupting butterflies in your gut. You suddenly felt weak as if your knees could give out at any moment. Shamefully, you begged, beseeched the man would stand up so you could admire his form fully.
As if answering your sinful wish, the man stood up. You admired his skin, slightly reddened from the searing hot bath, watching as droplets of water fell from his lean body. Clenching your thighs, you could feel your ears burn as you blushed. He stood to his full height and stepped out of the bath, reaching for a towel. The man most definitely towered over you…like Thor. You heart skipped a beat as your imagination took flight. This man was gorgeous. What a dream, to have seen the God of Thunder like this, until…
