#“are you ticklish?”

[trashyswitch]

Day 15: "Are You Ticklish?"

Dan, Arin and the other members of Game Grumps are setting up the next 10 minute power hour. But while they're doing that, Arin's silliness gets out of control. This leads to Dan taking a large brunt of it while other staff members watch.

Can you guess which 'The Grumps' episode I directly referenced? Enjoy the read, and good luck guessing!

Dan and Arin were setting up their Grump space for today’s episode of the ten minute power hour. Their staff were moving the items over to the side, so Vanessa could throw them at the table. Arin was setting up the dinosaurs and the scissor-filled cup holder in the middle of the table, while Dan was trying to figure out how to do his hair for this episode.

“Should I put it in a pony? A bun?” Dan asked. 

Arin adjusted the angle of the left dinosaur. “I don’t know. Just throw it up how you want.” Arin told him. 

“Fine…” Dan took the pony off his wrist and flicked it at Arin’s butt. 

“OW!” Arin lifted his back and grabbed his ass. “Dude!” He looked at Dan. “...Again?” He asked. 

This earned a small fit of laughter from the co-host. “Please don’t!” Dan ordered. 

“Here.” Vanessa handed Dan a large hair clip. “Thanks!” Dan took it, and threw his hair into a half-up, half-down haircut. “How does it look?” 

“Looks good.” another staff member said. “Looks like you whipped it up in 5 seconds.” Vanessa spoke up. 

“Come on…” Dan hung his head with a laugh. “I’m getting mixed signals here.” He took it out and tried clipping it in again. “This better?” 

“Turn around?” Vanessa told him.  Dan turned to show her the rest of the hairstyle. 

“Looks fine.” Vanessa replied. 

“Thanks.” Dan replied, adjusting his blue plaid shirt. “Arin?” 

“Huh?” Arin looked up. “How does it look?” Dan asked him. 

Arin looked at the back, and thought for a moment. “I feel like a scrunchie would look better.” Arin told him. 

“Come on…” Toasti said in the audience. 

“Arin…” Dan huffed and looked at the audience. “I have a scrunchie in my bag. Can you get it for me?” Dan asked Tucker. “It doesn’t match at all, but it’ll work.” 

“Sure.” Tucker replied. “Where’s your bag?” 

“It’s outside the room by the couch.” Dan explained. 

“Got it.” Tucker replied. The door could be heard closing as both the hosts sat down in their respective chairs “You ready?” Arin asked. 

“Ready for what?” Dan asked him. 

Arin stared at him for a couple moments, before looking down. “...I don’t fuckin’ know…” He muttered. 

Dan laughed. “ArE yOu ReAdY? For what, Arin? YES!” Dan reenacted, making fun of their 2-second conversation. 

Arin laughed at it, loving the use of the ‘YES’ at the end. “I just wanna make sure you’re on your toes!” Arin told him, sending a couple playful little punches his way. “Ready for anything…” Arin kept going. 

“Anything?” Dan clarified. 

“Anything!” Arin brought his fist up to Dan’s face, and stopped it mere millimeters away from his face. A couple seconds later, Arin popped out his fingers and poked right above his eyes. “Ahaaa, I gotcha~” Arin joked. 

“You need to work on that…” Dan told him. 

Arin just flopped his fist against the table and laughed. “Ihi really don’t.” He told him. 

“Oh really?” Dan smirked. “How are you gonna…‘keep me on my toes’?” Dan asked him. 

Arin smirked. “3 words. That’s all it would take.” He clarified. 

“To get me going?” Dan asked. “Alright. Alright, what are those ‘3 words’?” Dan asked. “Spill the beans.” 

Arin smirked. “Alright.” He sat up a bit more and adjusted himself in his seat. “Are you ticklish?” Arin asked him. 

Dan blinked once…he blinked twice… “Are those the-” Dan’s eyes widened when he saw the little nod from Arin… And in no seconds flat, Dan jumped off the chair. “NO!” He tripped on the chair, but managed to take off running to the other side of the room. 

Arin, and the audience all bursted out laughing at the reaction. “OHO MY GOD!” Arin shouted, slamming his hand on the desk. 

“That was…The biggest lie, followed up by the deadest giveaway.” Vanessa told him. 

“Come on, Dan…” Arin reacted, getting off the chair. 

“NO, don’t get any closer!” Dan warned. 

“Why? Are you actually ticklish?!” Arin asked. Dan stared at him with slight fear in his eyes. “.....Uuuhhhh…” 

Arin walked a couple steps closer. 

“Arin…” Dan warned. 

“It’s not that bad.” Arin reassured him. 

“There’s an audience!” Dan yelled, gesturing to the 6 people in the room. 

Arin turned towards the audience. “Tell me, beloved audience: would you be bothered if I just-so-happen to tickle Dan right before the power hour?” Arin asked them. 

“DO IT!” Vanessa yelled. 

“Vanessa!” Dan yelled. 

“Come on! We’ve been friends for how long again?” Arin asked. 

“11 years!” Toasti spoke up. “Yeah, 11 years! And I rarely EVER tickle you!” Arin told him. 

Dan bit his lip as he heard the audience cheer “Do it! Do it! Do it!” over and over again. “I feel so betrayed right now.” 

Arin smirked and looked at Dan. “The lovelies want it!” Arin let him know. And this was the only warning he gave, before sprinting up to Dan. 

“ARIN!” Dan kept on shouting his name as Arin pulled him back into the show light. And of course, those shouts and protests were quickly drowned out by Dan’s own yelps and laughter. “FAHACK! HAHAHAHA- FUCK YOHOHOU!” Dan cackled, falling to the ground in under 5 seconds. 

“Down he goes!” Arin declared, kneeling down and continuing the onslaught. 

“NonoNO ARIHIHIHIN!” Dan weakly grabbed Arin’s hands as he threw his head back with wheezy laughter. 

“Jesus, dude! I keep going for different spots, and they’re ALL TICKLISH!” Arin reacted.

“SHUHUT UHUHUP!” Dan shouted. 

Arin dug his fingers into his sides. “His sides are bad…” He went for his ribs. “His ribs too…” He dug his fingers into his armpits next. “His armpits are somehow worse…” Arin told him. 

“Ihihif yohohou ehend up with a bruhuise, Ihihi am NOT- HAHAHA- REHESPONSIBLE!” Dan yelled at him. 

“Try his feet!” Vanessa spoke up. 

“NO!” Dan shouted. 

“Aw, great idea!” It didn’t take long for Arin to grab both his ankles in a chokehold. With his feet stuck, Arin looked at Dan with a smirk. “Any last words~?” 

Dan looked at the audience for a couple seconds, before looking at Arin with a tense smile. “Go fuck yourself.” 

“Oh, don’t you worry.” Arin started tickling the arches of his feet, earning him a big fit of cackles. “I’ll save that for a little later.” 

“BaHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Dan tugged on his feet, hugging himself as the laughter just kept exploding out of his mouth. “AHAHARIHIHIN! HAHAHAHA- NOHOHO MOHOHORE!” Dan shouted. 

“Holy shit- I think this is the worst so far!” Arin reacted, earning some laughs from the audience.

“FUCK YOHOHOHOU!” Dan shouted. 

“Okay, fun time’s over.” Arin stopped his fingers and gently put his feet onto the ground. Dan’s huffing and heavy breathing filled the room for a few moments while Arin took the scrunchy from Tucker. “Here’s your scrunchie.” Arin told him. 

Dan took it and flopped his hand onto the ground again, letting his breathing slow down first. “Okay…thank you…” He mumbled. 

“Are you okay?” Tucker asked.  Dan nodded his head and sat himself up. Once he was on his feet, Dan whipped his hair into a half-up, half-down hairstyle like discussed earlier. “This look good?” 

Arin looked at it. “Looks good.” He replied. 

“Great.” Dan sat down on the chair as the lights dimmed. “I’m just glad I peed before I got in here…because I would’ve needed a diaper change after that…” Dan said. 

“You don’t need to go again?” Arin asked, moving his hair out of his face. 

“Nope.” Dan replied. 

“Wait, again?” Someone said. “How many times a day do you think you pee?” Toasti asked.

“I don’t poop enough.” Vanessa replied. 

“I love poop. I love 💩. I 💩 like 3 or 4 times a day.” Arin said. 

“How many times do you poop, Dan?” Vanessa asked. 

“The pee for me is like 11.” Tucker spoke up. 

“If the pee breaks up long enough, and then you’re like ‘Oh?’ and then there’s like a second wind, does that count as two pees?” Dan asked. He looked around. “Did we start the episo-” 

“No, no, no, no, no- it’s-” Arin spoke up. “It’s- that’s one pee.” 

The light turned on, signaling the beginning of the episode. “Hello!” Dan spoke up right away. “And welcome to the 10 Minute Power Hour!" “Yay-” Arin spoke up. 

“This is- My name is Dan, and you are Arin.” Dan said, still looking at the camera. “Hello.” Dan said to Arin, despite STILL staring at the camera. 

“Okay.” Arin responded, loving the scripted, yet completely improv intro unfold. In the words of Dan: The show definitely started…

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

[ ID in ALT ]

he giggles

[riisume]

Chilchuck on sides please!

How do you make your half-foot friend fork up his lockpicking tools so you can eat crab-like monsters a little easier?

YOU TICKLE HIM, OF COURSE!!!

Thank you for the request!! ♡

[kril-tkl]

tickle your lee while they game

bonus: if they are in voice chat and trying not to giggle into the mic

[writingfics-passingtime]

Desperate Measures

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 5703

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.

[prettymeredith]

🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣

LOOK WHO HAS A TICKLE FETISH!

🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣🫵🤣

[aventurineswife]

Hi, how are you?

Could you make an s/o who loves to kiss Sunday and Robin's wings?

I love your work ❤️

Feather Light Kisses

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Robin x Reader, Wing kisses, Fluff, Ticklish Wings, Established Relationship, Soft Moments, Comforting Affection, Flustered Sunday!!, Sensitive Wings, Headcanons, Tender Moments, Shy & Blushing Halovian Siblings.

Warnings: Fluff, Sensitive Wings, Brief Mentions Of Sadness

A/N: I'm well, and I hope you are too!! Btw (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) THIS IS SO CUTEE!!

Sunday’s usually so composed and dignified, but when it comes to your affection for his wings, even he finds himself getting flustered. The first time you asked to see his wings up close, he was surprised but agreed, not expecting you to run your fingers over them so softly or lean in to press a gentle kiss.

His wings are soft and incredibly sensitive to touch. When you start kissing along the edges, he can barely keep his usual calm, especially since your kisses send little shivers down his spine.

He tries to hide the ticklish effect it has on him, biting back a laugh and doing his best to maintain composure. However, his wings twitch and tremble under each gentle kiss you place on them.

At times, you’ll catch him smiling shyly, a rare sight, as his golden eyes warm with affection. Sunday might pretend he’s not affected, giving you a soft “Are you done, love?”—but you can see the pink on his cheeks and the way he closes his eyes in contentment when you continue.

Whenever he’s had a rough day, one way you calm him is by sitting with him, softly stroking and kissing his wings, which helps him relax more than he’d like to admit. In those moments, he feels grateful, not only for the soothing gesture but for the quiet understanding and love you bring him.

Robin’s wings are breathtakingly beautiful, with an almost ethereal shimmer, their hues mirroring the lilac and violet colors of her outfit. When you touch or kiss them, her wings flutter slightly, making her giggle softly, and you can tell she’s not used to anyone showing them this kind of affection.

Her wings are a little ticklish, and it doesn’t take much for her to smile or laugh softly under your touch. When you kiss the edges, her cheeks flush with a rosy hue, and she finds herself blushing at how tenderly you treat her.

Whenever she’s feeling overwhelmed or weighed down by memories of her past, your kisses and soft touches to her wings bring her back to a place of comfort and calm. She feels safe and loved, the ticklish sensation lifting her spirits and helping her forget her sorrows, even if just for a moment.

She often tries to hide the shivers that your kisses bring, but the way her wings tremble is a clear giveaway of how much she enjoys it. Sometimes, she’ll playfully nudge you with one of her wings, teasing you about being her “favorite admirer.”

Robin adores when you lean close and murmur sweet things against her wings, then press your lips gently to them. It’s become her favorite way to unwind, and she often finds herself humming softly in response, almost as if to thank you for the gentle, loving affection you always show her.

[oxmelsa]

ok yeah so: you’re being chased through the dark by a vampire. actually, “chased” isn’t the right word— you’re being HUNTED. you are nothing but prey and you’ve been running for so long, but it’s faster. stronger.

eventually you’re caught— inevitable, really, why’d you even try to run, silly thing— and suddenly it’s on you, swinging a leg over to straddle you, pinning you down by your wrists, hunched and curling over your quivering body to begin to feed— it breathes you in and you smell so so so so good—

all of a sudden it’s got its mouth and teeth around your neck and it doesn’t hurt— not at all— it’s actually. um. it’s. your eyes fly open in shock. oh fuck that really, really, really tickles.

it’s feeding in earnest now, moving against you, and god it tickles so fucking bad, it’s sending goosebumps down your spine and making your toes curl. your whimpers have become giggles, and you’re squirming under it, now, starting to grind up a little into the weight of it because you just can’t help it, you’re just so ticklish

and the vampire’s so confused, prey isn’t supposed to sound like this, but it’s so hungry it doesn’t even care, everything feels so warm and you smell so fucking good so it just flattens itself over you to pin you down more— its only instinct is to chase that feeling, more more more

the fight is leaving you, you’re babbling senselessly between gasps and laughter and whimpers— pleasepleaseplease, it tickles, oh god

it’s everywhere— its mouth and teeth and lips are working up and down your throat, over your collarbones, at the base of your neck, and nothing’s ever tickled so fucking badly in your life. nothing’s ever felt so good. nothing ever will again

you’re nothing but prey. you were built for this. there is nothing to do but writhe beneath it. so be good now and let it feed

[itsticklishme23]

☀️✨☀️

It’s been so warm outside lately! I might as well prance around in my crop tops and shorts, right? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

no other reason to let my shirts lift up when I stretch, squirming subtly when I feel the breeze gently kiss my armpits… or let my tummy muscles flex ever so slightly when it’s in your line of sight…

No, no. It’s not like I want you to slowly walk up to me while my eyes widen and my heart thumps in my chest in anticipation, my excitedly nervous smile peeking out when you pin me against a wall, especially when you whisper in my ear all the ways you’ll make my skin tingle and giggles pour from my lips… all before you swiftly grab me, swoop me up, carry me to the nearest bed and strap me down to make me pay in laughter for all my “mean” teasing.

Nah!!! That thought hasn’t crossed my mind at all! Why do you ask? 😇

[ticklefantasynyc]

This was the first time I had actually made a tickle video with 2 people who also had a tickle fetish. It’s was so fun cause we put her through it and she loved every minute of it 😜😏😈. Might posts a short clip on the video sometime.

[jordanswitches]

what about. i kneel on your arms to pin them over your head and trail my nails down your triceps over and over again. every time i almost hit your armpits i restart. then finally i run all the way down, into the hollows where you're so sensitive, but i'm only there for a second, long enough to make you gasp and say please, and then i go past them. down the sides of your chest, your ribs, your sides. and i do the same thing i started with but from the opposite direction. you wish i'd just get it over with because the anticipation is killing you, every time i get to the top of your ribs and your chest is heaving with nerves, aaaand restart. but at the same time you hope i never completely focus there because you know i won't stop until your whole body is exhausted.

[strawbbfluff]

When you hit a good spot and their giggles become just a little bit frantic >>>

[anxious-lee]

[casualavocados]

Why did you use your body as a shield for me? Because you always do the same for me. At first, I thought you did it because you were quick-tempered and reckless—even felt a little annoyed by that. It never occurred to me that you actually did it to protect me. Says who?

KISEKI: DEAR TO ME Ep. 13

[kril-tkl]

My belly button isn't ticklish so let me live vicariously through yours~

It can't tickle that much can it? Such a tiny little spot.

I hope for your sake my finger doesn't get stuck inside.

What are you hiding in here? Hm? Let me explore your ticklish navel so I can understand what it's like with each tool.

[gigglesoup]

your avg weird brazilian girl 🌷