#“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…

[kruegerspillow]

accidentally finding out that simon riley is ticklish during sex, though the way he reacted wasn't too... expected. buuuuut it's not like you hated the outcome you got from him <3

MINORS DNI. NSFW BENEATH THE CUT!

Simon's hands roamed around your body, taking in every curve as you squirmed helplessly on his lap. Your hands gripped on his shoulders, seeking more friction as you grinded down against his clothed crotch. Simon's hips stuttered in response to your move.

"So fuckin' needy, aren't ya?" Simon groaned out, his voice low and filled with desperation.

You huffed in response, nearly rolling your eyes at his words before your hands made their way to the hem of his shirt. Simon grunted, helping you lift his shirt up.

"Simon... Need'ya so bad. I need to feel you, please..." You pleaded.

And before you knew it, he was knuckles deep into your cunt. His thick fingers curled inside you, feeling the way your pussy clenched hungrily around his digits. Simon laughed softly out of amusement, watching the way you arched your back. Your hands shot up to his shoulders, seeking balance.

"I got ya, don't worry, yeah? 'm here for ya, lovie." He whispered soothingly.

"Simon, I'm gonna..."

"Fuck, yeah? Let go f'me, c'mon, give yourself in."

You nearly whined at his words, feeling yourself tipping over the edge as his fingers worked faster. Tears swelled up in your eyes before you squeezed them shut, feeling yourself squirt all over him, leaving your juices dripping down his lower abdomen.

Simon watched quietly, slowing down the pace as he felt you slump against his chest, your arms falling back to your sides. His free hand wrapped around your waist, a silent gesture of protection.

"Fuuuck, would ya take a look at the mess ya made? Look at tha' sweet'eart." He mumbled softly, looking down at the mess on his stomach.

Your vision blurred as you glanced at the mess, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarassment. Fuck, your mind felt hazy. The orgasm hit you harder than a brick, and you knew only Simon could leave this effect on you.

And, as soon as you gathered your composure, your hands went back to his chest. Simon's eyes softened at the sight of you, watching as you undo his belt. You swiftly threw his belt aside, propping yourself on top of him before looking up at him. Simon got the signal and lifted his hips up, gaze piercing as you pulled his pants down.

There was a small stain on his boxers already, having leaked precum ever since he buried his fingers into your puffy cunt. Simon groaned as you pulled his boxers down, the cold air hitting his painfully hard cock.

"Wait, sweet'eart—"

You slammed down on his cock, feeling him twitch inside you before he arched his back off of the couch. His breath hitched as you watched him tremble beneath you. He groaned out in response, throwing his head back onto the couch before his hands shot up to your waist; making sure you don't lose balance.

"Simon, I— fuck I cant help it, need... need you inside me..." You slurred out, tripping over your own words.

Simon's chest rose up and down, trying to catch his breath before he lifted his head up. His gaze met yours, all hazy and fucked out of his mind. Your hands stayed on his chest for a moment, before you slowly ran your fingers down.

"Christ, you feel fuckin' heavenly, I— fuckin' 'ell..."

Simon shivered beneath you, letting out a shaky breath as he watched your hand skillfully caress the roughness of his skin. Your fingers softly traced over his scars, feeling the way he jerks every once in a while. Once your hands reached his abdomen, you slowly traced the sides of his waist.

"Not there sweet'eart, I—" The words caught in his throat as you continued teasing his waist.

A small, nervous laugh left his lips as one of his hands shot up to your wrist, trying to get your hands off of his waist. You noticed it. The way his cheeks heated up whenever your hands roamed around his waist, the way he seemed to hold the small laughter that threatened to come out of his mouth. He's ticklish.

"Bloody 'ell, not— not there," he paused for a moment. "Don't play these kind of games on me, love, fuck please." He begged softly, his cock hardening inside you.

And, that's when you felt it.

His hips stuttered before he cummed inside you, merely because of a simple touch. A small wheeze left his lips, feeling himself come undone just like that. Your eyes widened as you watched him rut his hips through his orgasm. A small, amused yelp left your lips before you moaned softly. He'd never been this sensitive before. His hand dropped from your wrist.

"Fuck!" He groaned out, feeling his whole body tremble beneath you.

Shit, you know damn well you're far from over now.

kruegerspillow © 2024 ➵ do not feed my work into ai, repost or translate my work. Reblogs are much appreciated ୨ৎ

[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!! ♡

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hi lovely! Here’s my ask: Bucky and reader have been pinning for each other nonchalantly for a while but reader says something that causes Bucky to throw them over his shoulder and threatens to tickle the shit out of them (and then does it after seeing how flustered they are). Feelings get confessed, weaknesses are exposed, it’s a whole plate of fluff. 🥰😘

hell. why not? This prompt is so fun - thanks, anon! hope you enjoy x

Predictable

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (no pronouns used)

Word count: ~1500

Content / warnings: swearing, kissing, tickle fic

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.

The hallway was quiet except for the sharp click of your boots and the heavy, measured steps of Bucky Barnes beside you. The mission briefing had ended, the others scattering to their own quarters, leaving you and him walking under the hum of fluorescent lights.

“You’re quieter than usual tonight,” you said, casting a sidelong glance at him. “Bored? Lost in thought? Don’t tell me you’re planning another dramatic brooding session. Maybe in front of a window, rain streaking down the glass?”

Bucky looked at you, one brow quirked, his lips curling faintly at the corner. “You done?”

“I gotta say, you’re really sticking to the dark soldier aesthetic,” you quipped, hands shoved in your pockets. “It’s impressive. Very consistent.”

His lips twitched in the ghost of a smirk. “Consistent, huh? That your way of saying I’m boring?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say boring.” You turned to him, letting your grin curl just sharp enough to bait him. “More… predictable.”

He stopped walking, his head tilting just slightly, and the gleam in his eye made something in your chest tighten.

“Predictable?” he repeated, his tone soft, like he was rolling the word around to test it.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress the grin threatening to spread. “It’s not a bad thing, Bucky. You’re… reliable. Steady. I can set my watch by your moods - glare, brood, occasional grunt of disapproval. It’s comforting, really.”

The words hung in the air for a beat too long, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the silence and tension stretching between you.

“What?” you asked, try to hold back a smirk. “Did I hit a nerve?”

His gaze sharpened on yours, glinting with something dark and teasing that made the hair on the back of your neck rise. “You really think I’m predictable?”

The air between you crackled with tension, each word a spark igniting the unspoken feelings lurking beneath the surface. You felt a flush creeping up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him see how much his attention affected you.

“I’m just saying-”

Before you could finish, he moved. Quick as a snap, his hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you toward him. You stumbled, nearly cursing, before he bent low, braced his shoulder into your middle, and straightened, hoisting you up and over.

“Bucky!” Your voice came out an octave higher than usual, your palms pressing against his broad back as you flailed. “Put me down!” you hissed, your fists pounding helplessly at his shoulders as the world spun upside down.

He ignored you, his laughter low and dangerous as it rumbled through his chest. “Still think I’m predictable?”

“Yes! You’re-” Your voice caught, your brain short-circuiting when his palm splayed against the back of your thigh to keep you steady. The touch was firm, effortless, and it did unforgivable things to your ability to form coherent words. “Y-you’re shooting the messenger. This is completely unnecessary!”

“Unnecessary?” he echoed, his tone laced with a sinister amusement. “You sure about that? Because I think this is overdue.”

Your stomach flipped at the shift in his voice - low and teasing, laced with a playful edge you’d never heard before.

He turned a corner abruptly and nudged open a door with his boot, stepping into a small, dimly lit storage room.

“Wait, what- what are you doing?” you demanded, kicking your legs uselessly. “Bucky, I swear- ”

“I’d save your breath if I were you,” he said darkly, the door clicking shut behind him.

Your mind lurched. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

A slow, devilish chuckle rolled through him. “It means, smartass, that I’m about to tickle the shit outta you.”

Your brain flatlined.

You froze. Completely froze. For the first time, your mouth opened - but nothing came out. Heat flared across your entire body, and Bucky’s amused hum was like a spark to gasoline.

“Oh,” he hummed, patting your thigh like some cruel punctuation to your embarrassment, “that got your attention.”

“Shut up!” you finally spluttered, mortified, because now he knew. Now he knew, and you’d just handed him a weapon far more dangerous than any gun or blade.

His laughter was low, dark, and - gods help you - so unfairly attractive that it only made things worse. “What, did I hit a nerve?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs. Your squirming renewed tenfold, panic spiking through you as you tried to push yourself up off his shoulder. “Don’t you dare, Bucky Barnes! I swear-”

He unceremoniously let you drop back onto your feet, your balance faltering as you collided with his chest, still breathless. You shoved at him instinctively, trying to regain your footing, but he was already advancing, backing you toward the nearest wall.

Your face was on fire now, your usual sharp wit nowhere to be found. You’d never seen him like this - playful, teasing, free - and it was completely throwing you off.

You stammered, breath catching as your back hit the wall. “B-Bucky- no! Don’t-”

“You're really worked up about this,” he interrupted, his voice low and gravelly, a smirk tugging at his lips. The shadows softened the hard lines of his face, but his eyes… his eyes burned with something else.

He leaned in slightly, caging you in with his hands braced against the wall beside your head. “You’re nervous.”

“I am not,” you hissed, even as you felt your face go hotter.

The smirk grew. “I think you’re lying.”

“I’m not-”

"Predict this, sweetheart."

Before you could blink, his hands darted to your hips, fingers digging in with deliberate precision. Your reaction was immediate - a gasp, a choked laugh you couldn’t swallow back in time.

“No!” you shrieked, laughter already bubbling out of you as you squirmed violently. “I take it back, okay?! I take it back!”

“Too late,” Bucky replied, grinning like the devil himself as his hands squeezed your sides again. “Now I’m invested.”

"B-Bucky! Cut it out!"

“Cut it out?” he repeated, his tone mock-innocent as his fingers dugs across your ribs. “I thought you were tougher than this.”

“Shut up!” you managed between gasping laughs, your cheeks burning with humiliation and something dangerously close to exhilaration.

“Is this what you wanted?” he taunted, his voice dark and edged with amusement. “When you called me predictable? Did you want me to prove you wrong?”

Your response was lost in another fit of helpless laughter as his hands found a particularly sensitive spot just under your ribs. You twisted against him, but his grip was unrelenting, his body solid against you.

You let out a strangled laugh, pressing back against the wall as your knees started to give. “You’re- you’re cool! And- and spontaneous and - Bucky - fuck! You’re hot and mysterious and-”

He paused for a second, his grin sharpening as he processed your accidental confession. “Hot, huh?” he murmured, his voice low and entirely too smug.

Your face burned like the sun. “I didn’t mean- fuck, just forget I said-”

“Oh, no,” he said, his hands still firmly on your waist. “I think we’re gonna talk about that later.”

“Buck, I didn't-”

“Nope,” he interrupted, his fingers digging into your sides again, drawing another breathless shriek from you. “We’re not done yet.”

Your laughter filled the room, wild and unguarded, as you tried in vain to squirm away. He zeroed in on your lowest ribs, his fingers hitting angles that sent you reeling. You tried to hold on the desperate peal of laughter, but it echoed through the storage room as your knees weakened further.

“Bucky!” you gasped, your voice breaking as you gripped at his jacket to try and keep yourself upright, another shriek bursting through your lips when his fingers pressed into another susceptible spot. "Please! I can't breathe- BUCKY!"

His grin softened, and for a moment, the teasing melted into something quieter, something genuine. He caught your chin gently with one hand, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“Hot, huh?” he repeated, softer this time, his eyes searching yours.

The word hung in the air, a moment of suspended silence between frantic laughter and tension thick enough to choke on. You froze, still panting, your face burning with horror.

Bucky stilled too, his gaze locking onto yours. Then, slowly, his grin returned - this time sharper, hungrier.

His lips were on yours before you could think, a sudden, fiery kiss that stole the air from your lungs.

You melted immediately, fingers curling into the front of his shirt as he pressed you further into the wall, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck as he tilted your head back, the other gripping your hip. The heat of it was overwhelming, his lips firm and insistent. It was messy, unpracticed, and searingly real.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, still panting, cheeks aflame. His thumb brushed your temple, sending a shiver up your spine, and the corner of his mouth curled into a smirk as his lips grazed yours.

“Did you see that coming, too?”

You couldn’t help it - you grinned against his lips. “Yeah. From a mile away.”

Before he had the chance to retaliate, you kissed him again.

[kril-tkl]

tickle your lee while they game

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

[featherfilledfantasy]

I fear that this is how chaotic and dramatic I act when my armpits are tickled 🤭

[comfytickles]

Transformers Animated Jumpscare!

Click for better quality!

I don’t see enough tk art of this little guy, guess I’ll just have to make some myself!

[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.

[amazingmsme]

Last Call for Mercy

AN: the much anticipated 600 strike fic is FINALLY here! I think we’ve all been dying to see Poseidon get his ass handed to him with some good ol’ fashioned tickle torture, & I’m here to deliver! That art by you know who (too scared to mention them in this fic) was such perfect inspiration for this fic! Grab a snack & settle in, ‘cause it’s kinda long (just over 4k)

Warning that it’s a little more intense & mean than my usual fics, but it’s Poseidon & he deserves it lmao. Kinda suggestive, but nothing more than that. (I will forever be inspired by the manwhore au) other than that, enjoy Poseidon getting what he deserves!

The wind whipped and howled, waves crashing against jagged rocks. The spray of the sea reached high, filling the air with the taste of salt. Dark clouds rolled in, quickly blocking the sun as rain poured from the sky.

Odysseus stood before Poseidon, calculating his next move. The God lay sprawled across the rocks, bruises and small cuts littering his skin from their previous fight. He looked smug, almost proud.

Odysseus couldn't keep this up forever, and he didn't want to. He was tired of fighting just to survive; it was all he'd known for the past 20 years. He was tired. So, so tired...

He had hoped Poseidon would be too. That when offered a truce: a final chance to leave the past behind, that he would take it. Of course, he could never be so lucky, nor Poseidon so reasonable.

He looked at his island one last time, coming to a decision.

"You're going to call off that storm." He spoke in a dead, flat tone. One that struck fear in the hearts of many and commanded respect.

Poseidon's triumphant smirk stretched further across his face, twisting his features with sadistic glee.

"Or what? You can't kill me," he taunted. Odysseus slowly shifted his gaze back onto him.

"Exactly."

Odysseus stalked closer, like a lone wolf closing in on a kill. Poseidon's grin faltered once he realized Odysseus was still coming towards him.

"Wait-" his eyes darted to where his trident now rested at the soldier's feet. "Wait!"

And then Odysseus smirked.

"Oh no. By the time I'm through with you, you're gonna wish I stabbed you instead," he said matter of factly.

Poseidon sneered, lurching forward threateningly. "What?"

But before he could say another word, the King of Ithica was straddling his hips, shoving his back against the rocks. He blinked in shock, at a complete loss for words.

"Cruelty comes in all shapes and sizes," Odysseus said, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. "Even ones you don't expect," he went on to crack his neck, rolling his shoulders just to drag out the anticipation.

Poseidon could've thrown him off, but he was curious where the mortal was going with this.

"Do your worst."

"I intend to."

Poseidon would swear he only screamed so loud because he was caught off guard. I mean, really, who in their right mind would try and tickle a God at a time like this? Who would even think of that?

Odysseus of Ithica, that's who. Because of course he would.

Odysseus dug into his sides, scribbling over bare skin made slick from the rain. Poseidon reacted immediately, folding in on himself with a bark of laughter as he scrambled to shove the offending hands away.

"Whahahat do you thihink you're dohohoing?" he demanded, growling through his laughter. Odysseus snorted in amusement, pinching up and down his sides.

"Thought it would be obvious," he taunted, flashing a sadistic grin. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes in annoyance, prompting Odysseus to claw at his stomach.

"Y-you ahaharrogant bastahard! I ohohorder you to-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stop you right there," he cut him off. "You're not the one in control anymore. I am."

Poseidon leveled him with a harsh glare, determined to prove him wrong. "Like hehehell you ahare!"

Odysseus shrugged, sporting a sly, malicious grin. "Agree to disagree."

Poseidon's annoyed scoffed morphed into a snort as he kneaded his lower stomach, right above his waistline. His eyes flew wide open in embarrassment, and he slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sounds escaping.

"That was a fun noise," he goaded, wiggling a finger in his bellybutton. "Let's hear it again, shall we?" Poseidon shook his head, ready to throw him into the ocean, but much to his dismay, a shrill screech pierced the air instead.

"Close, but I think it was more like this!" Odysseus demonstrated by squeezing his hips. Poseidon bucked and screamed through hysterical laughter. He tried his best to block the offending hands, but the King of Ithica was annoyingly fast for a mortal.

"Ohoho just shut up ahahalready!" he growled in response. That bastard had the gall to chuckle at him.

"Why should I?"

"I-I'll kihihill you!" But the force of his laughter severely negated the threat.

"Not a very convincing argument there, giggles."

"What dihihid you just cahall mehehe?" Poseidon growled through growing hysterics.

"Giggles!" he repeated proudly. To prove his point, he reached up to flutter against Poseidon's fin-like ears.

"Ihihi do nohohot giggle!" he denied through a particularly bubbly bout of giggles.

"Pft, yeah, keep telling yourself that, it won't make it true," he continued to taunt. Poseidon managed to roll his eyes. "Ihif you dohohon’t just shut up-!" he sassed, cutting himself off with a gasp. Odysseus arched a brow and began kneading his hips. He threw his head back in hysterics, bucking like a wild horse.

"Oh yeah? You’ll what?" Odysseus growled threateningly, trailing off. Poseidon sneered and reeled back, ready to slap him, to grab his hands, to throw him off, to do anything to stop what was happening. And then Odysseus grabbed his wrist and pinned his arm above his head.

They locked eyes and Poseidon shook his head, frantically tugging at his arm. How the hell was he so strong? He was a mortal for crying out loud! So what the fuck was going on? Then again, he supposed he wasn't putting up much of a fight, the way he was cackling and flopping around like a fish out of water.

The irony was not lost on him.

It didn't take long for Odysseus to wrestle his other arm into place. He held down both of Poseidon's wrists as he reached off to the side.

He had grabbed Poseidon's own trident, holding it high above him so the light could glint off of it perfectly. Each prong was sharpened to a point, and aimed right at him.

"Hold still, yeah? Unless you want to get stabbed," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke. Poseidon remained speechless as his brain struggled to catch up with itself. He heard a loud metal shing followed by the sound of crumbling rock, and suddenly he could move his arms.

He couldn't move his arms!

He tugged and yanked frantically, but his trident held firm. Each wrist rested in the space between prongs, but there wasn't enough room to slip free.

"That's more like it," Odysseus examined his handiwork, making sure the trident wouldn't budge.

"Are you out of your mind! Let me go!" His entire body grew tense when he felt hands rest atop his ribcage.

"You're a God, it shouldn't be that hard to escape if you really want to," he noted in a condescending tone. Poseidon glared up at him, arms straining as he tugged futilely.

"Just what are you implying?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Odysseus grinned wider.

"Oh I'm not implying anything." He curled his fingers ever so slightly, just barely pressing into the skin. Poseidon gasped and arched his back, desperately fighting off a growing smile.

"You insolehent prihihihick! Stohohop thihis at once!" he demanded through deep hysterics as Odysseus clawed at his ribs.

"That depends. You gonna call off that storm?" Odysseus asked, wiggling his fingers faster as he spoke, making it impossible for Poseidon to answer.

He shook his head and choked out, "N-nehehever!" Odysseus shrugged, not an ounce of sympathy to be found.

"In that case, I guess I'll never stop."

"You thihihink this ihis funny?" he sounded significantly less threatening than he had hoped.

"Hilarious, actually," Odysseus deadpanned, scribbling between each rib, inching closer to his gills with each passing second. Poseidon's laughter rose in pitch, and he struggled with renewed intensity. Odysseus smirked down at him.

"Aw, what's the matter? Is this a bad spot?" he asked, running his thumbs along his bottom gill.

Poseidon snorted, arms straining where they were pinned. His cheeks were flushed, long dark hair fanned out around him like rolling waves.

"Noho, please! Not there!" he begged, a forced grin splitting his face in two as he spoke.

"Oh, have you changed your mind?" Odysseus asked, cocking his head innocently. But his hands hovered above Poseidon's gills, wiggling just above the skin.

He sucked in a breath, leaning as far away as he could. "No-" he barely choked out the single word before he was lost to bubbly hysterics. Odysseus traced along the edge of each gill slowly, watching his reactions with a close eye.

Poseidon snorted and squirmed from side to side, lips twitching into a giddy, nervous smile.

"In that case, I think I'll stay right here." Poseidon's eyes widened in something akin to fear.

"Wait, don't!" he protested, arching his back with a giggly snort when Odysseus traced along both sides. He only had to use one finger to get him squirming and choking back laughter. Poseidon bit his lip, but sputtering giggles and shrieks still managed to slip out. "Stohohop!"

"Don't stop? Wasn't planning to, but whatever you say! Gotta give the God what he wants," Odysseus taunted. Poseidon shook his head, a blush quickly spreading across his cheeks.

"You knohohow dahamn well thahahat's not what I meheheant!" he argued. His laughter was uncharacteristically high pitched as he teased his gills, and Odysseus was eager to see what other noises this spot would produce.

"Mmm, actually, I don't," Odysseus corrected with a casual shrug and a shit eating grin. He jumped to the next gill, wiggling a finger just barely underneath the edge. Poseidon snorted and gasped, arching his back as he clenched his jaw. And yet, his laughter persisted.

It was much more shrill than what Odysseus was expecting, but he supposed that was because of where he was targeting. He made sure to be careful around the gills, keeping his touch light and fluttery. You'd think the lighter tickling was worse from the way he was acting. Odysseus considered the thought, watching the way the God writhed and giggled beneath him.

"Come on, it can't be that bad. I'm barely even touching you!" he noted smugly, ghosting his fingertips along his ribs and gills. Poseidon threw his head back and let out a wheezing laugh.

"Ihit's fucking ahahawful!" he screamed, sounding less angry than he intended, and more desperate than he cared to admit. But as humiliating and degrading as this all was, there was a small part of him that was grateful he wasn't enduring real torture. If the King of Ithica was crazy enough to pull a stunt like this, then there's no telling what he's capable of.

He would count his blessings where he could.

He was pulled from his spiraling thoughts when he heard Odysseus chuckle. "That's over dramatic, don't you agree?" he asked, tracing the rim of his gills at an agonizingly slow rate.

"Nooo!" Poseidon denied, but Odysseus was unsure if he was answering the question, or protesting as the tickling began to speed up. He twisted side to side, unable to dislodge the hands exploring his ribs. He snorted and kicked frantically when a finger hesitantly wiggled underneath a gill.

"FUCK, dohohon't you dahare! I will kihihill you!" Poseidon threatened through breathless snickers. Odysseus cocked his head, sporting a sinister smirk.

He leaned down, invading the God's personal space until their noses were almost touching. "I don't think you will." Poseidon sneered up at him until it was forcibly replaced by a bright smile.

"You cocky little-" his words were cut off by a squeal that gave way to breathless cackles. Poseidon thrashed and tugged on his arms, but his trident held firm against the rocks. Odysseus fluttered his fingers on the inside of the gills, just barely reaching in.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Odysseus taunted, cupping an ear with one hand.

"NOHOHOT THEHERE! PLEHEHEASE!" he begged, snorting and wheezing in between bouts of hysterics.

"Wow, you do have manners," Odysseus feigned surprise. He decided to cut him some slack and switch to a new spot. After all, this was pretty fun, and Odysseus didn't want him to tap out too soon. He was thoroughly enjoying every second of his well earned revenge... And the power trip he got from it wasn't half bad either.

Poseidon cackled and swore under his breath as he continued teasing the inside of his gills. His laughter began to sound as though he were screaming underwater, frantic giggles gurgling in the back of his throat as he tried to shove them back down. Odysseus had never heard such a laugh, and took it as a sign to slow down.

"You’re starting to sound a little desperate there, so I guess you deserve a break. Besides, we still have other places to explore..." he trailed off as he rested his hands on his biceps. He lightly pressed into the flesh, watching carefully as Poseidon's breath hitched. He drug his hands down until he reached his bare pits.

"There is no we," he snapped through clenched teeth.

"I don't know, I'd say we're pretty close," he said, just to get under Poseidon's skin. It seemed to work, as he scoffed and glared up at him. "What do you think?" he prompted, cocking his head to the side.

"I thihink you're fucking crahahazy," Poseidon answered as his lingering chuckles faded. Odysseus seemed to soften at those words, placing a hand over his heart as they locked eyes.

"Aw, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Poseidon rolled his eyes. "Of course you'd take that as a compliment."

"Y'know, I liked you a lot better when you can barely speak," Odysseus snarked. He didn't give the God a chance to answer before he dug back in, clawing at his exposed pits. Poseidon practically screamed, thrashing around on the rocks as he tugged and twisted his arms in a futile attempt to free himself.

"That's more like it!" Odysseus cheered, raking blunt nails down the center of his hollows. He snorted and cursed at the sharp ticklish sensation.

"Nohoho ihit's nohohot!" he argued. Odysseus arched a brow.

"You just like arguing for the sake of it, don't you?" he asked, not afraid to call him out.

"Ohoho lihike you dohohon't!" Poseidon taunted back through his giggles.

"Yeah, but you're a God. Aren't you supposed to be above shit like that?" he reasoned.

"Absolutely not!" he growled in frustration. Who was he to tell him how a God should act?

"Oh, sorry, my mistake," Odysseus faked an apology, not once slowing his movements.

"Quit beheheing such aha smart ahahass!" Poseidon demanded. He continued to thrash and kick about, the sea surrounding them churning and sloshing. The choppy waves rose and fell in time with Poseidon's bellowing voice.

"No thanks, I'm good," he shot back smugly. "Now listen up, I got a question for you." When Poseidon didn't answer, he drilled his thumbs in the center of his pits, drawing devastatingly ticklish circles.

"Whahahat?" he cried out, frustration and desperation mingling. Why couldn't this mortal just shut his fucking mouth for five minutes?

Odysseus leaned in with a sadistic grin as he asked, "So, how does it feel to be helpless?" The question caught Poseidon off guard, nearly choking on his own laughter. "How's it feel knowing you can't escape?"

"Thahat's m-mighty presumptuous ohohof you," he challenged, even as he fought off his mirth.

Odysseus snapped his head down to look at him, eyes wide in shock as a bewildered smile tugged at his lips. "Wait, can you escape?" he asked, genuinely curious now. He'd seen Poseidon move around as if he were water, and for all he knew, maybe he was. Yet his body felt solid and firm beneath his touch.

Odysseus just might be hallucinating, because he could swear Poseidon blushed at the question.

"Ehehenough! You dohohon't thihink I'm tryihihing?" he snapped defensively, tugging on his trapped arms with renewed effort. The truth of the matter was, Poseidon technically could escape if he really tried. But using his powers to slip away so easily just felt wrong. He was a God for crying out loud, he should be able to free himself with his strength alone! And at this point, he was determined to do so.

Odysseus studied him before answering. "I think you could try a little harder," he goaded, skittering his nails over the tense muscles of his arms. Poseidon's voice jumped in pitch, bordering on shrill.

"Ohoho whahat do you knohow ahahanyways?" he challenged through breathless snickers. It was meant as a rhetorical question, really. So why then, did Odysseus feel the need to answer?

"I know you're pretty damn ticklish for a God," he shot back, relishing in the way Poseidon glared at him; cheeks flushed and mouth agape in shock.

"Excuse me?" he choked out, struggling to keep his laughter contained. Even in his delirious state, he had to admire the sheer audacity.

"You're excused," Odysseus chuckled at his own joke, smirking at the way Poseidon rolled his eyes.

"You're really not ahas funny as you thihihink," he managed to complain with minimal chuckles.

Odysseus looked down at him, tilting his head to the side with mock innocence. "Really? Then why're you laughing?" He punctuated the question by fluttering his fingers behind his ears.

Poseidon shook his head, scrunching his neck as real, honest to the Gods giggles spilled past his lips.

"Oops, my mistake. Why are you giggling?" Odysseus "corrected" himself, sporting a sly grin.

"Ihihi aham nohohot!" he insisted, despite the bubbly laughter lacing his words.

"Denial looks good on you," he quipped back, tracing along the edges of his ear fins. Poseidon's eyes flew wide open as a dark blush spread across his cheeks.

"Ihihit does nohohot!" he argued, trying his best to sound intimidating. Apparently it didn't work as intended, seeing as Odysseus was cooing at him.

"Sure, keep telling yourself that," he goaded, gently pinching his ear, just to hear him shriek. Poseidon flinched away from the touch with a snort.

"Aw, you must be really ticklish here," he added with amusement. Poseidon shook his head frantically, bubbly giggles gurgling in the back of his throat. Odysseus now realized that his laughter just sounded like that. How cute.

"Nohoho! S-stohohop!" he pleaded. The light, teasing touch was downright maddening, and he couldn't take the relentless teasing.

"No thanks, I'm good," Odysseus casually shrugged him off. He scratched blunt nails against the thin skin of his fins, drawing out the most endearing snickers.

"Why you little- wait, dohohon't!" he protested when he saw a mischievous smirk flash across the mortal's face. But there was nothing he could do to stop him when hands latched onto his hips. He bucked like a wild horse, head thrown back as booming cackles escaped him.

"Don't what?"

"Your stupid trihihicks won't work ohon mehehe!" he yelled, thrashing from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the torturous hands squeezing his hips.

Odysseus heaved a sigh and shrugged, "Oh well, it was worth a shot." He moved down to knead his thighs, flinching at the scream that filled the air. He pulled back to cover his ears, allowing Poseidon a moment to catch his breath.

"Oho fuck you, I'm not being that loud!" he snapped defensively. Odysseus opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the sky lit up with a web of lighting as thunder roared overhead. Poseidon gawked up at the sky, a dark blue blush spreading across his cheeks as Odysseus doubled over in laughter.

"I think your brother would beg to differ!" he cheered mockingly, poking all over his belly. Poseidon snorted and curled in on himself, but no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't escape the unbearable feeling of fingers on his skin.

"Just shut thehe fuck up! I'll kihihill both of you!" he threatened. Odysseus rolled his eyes as another clap of thunder sounded above, mocking him. This couldn't possibly get any worse.

"I really don't think you could kill anyone right now," he taunted, squeezing down his thighs until he got to his knees, and a loud snort slipped out. He stayed there for a few agonizing seconds before turning around, straddling his legs. And that could only mean one thing.

"Wait! Nohoho!" he shrieked as Odysseus scraped his blunt nails down his soles. He scrunched his feet and kicked as much as he could, but his legs were pinned fairly well, and he was weak from laughter.

"Aw, you have webbing between your toes! That's honestly pretty adorable," he taunted with a fond smile.

"Wha- no it's not!" Poseidon sputtered, fighting off a blush and doing a rather poor job. "I live in the water, what the fuck did you expect?"

"Y’know what? I don't like your tone," Odysseus said, scribbling along his arches. He let out a giggly yelp, jerking beneath the touch.

"Ohoho fuck you! Just lehehet me gohoho!"

"I'll stop whenever you want, just call off the storm!" he insisted in a snide, taunting tone.

"I-I cahahan't!" Poseidon lied as he desperately tried to think of any other way out of the mess he'd gotten himself into.

"We'll see about that," Odysseus called his bluff, glaring down at him with playful malice. He held down his ankles and grabbed his toes, stretching them back. He began furiously scribbling the webbing between his toes, and the reaction was immediate.

Poseidon kicked his trapped legs, scrunching his toes as much as he could. Bubbly giggles and shrieks escaped him as Odysseus continued to rub the thin webbing. His nose was scrunched adorably as he snorted and shook his head frantically.

"Stohohop!" he pleaded once more, but Odysseus wasn't so eager to let him off the hook. At least, not yet.

"You didn't stop when I begged you, so why should I?" he justified the prolonged cruelty.

"Behehecause I fucking sahahay sohoho!" he ordered in between helpless snickers.

That was the last straw. Poseidon was going to cave, one way or another; Odysseus would make sure of it.

He spun around suddenly, vengeance flashing in his eyes. "You still think you're in control?" he challenged, digging into his gills without warning. Poseidon was caught off guard by the change of spots, screaming and wheezing through hysterics.

"NOHOHO! Y-YOU MOHOHONSTER!" he wailed at the top of his lungs. He arched his back, struggling to free himself. He threw his head back in frustration, cackles flowing freely from his smiling mouth.

Odysseus scoffed at the insult and rolled his eyes. "A tickle monster, maybe," he agreed with a snide chuckle. "But didn't you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our-"

"Ahalrihihight! Plehehease!" he begged, finally admitting defeat. As much as it pains him to say it, he just couldn’t take any more.

Odysseus wore a satisfied grin as he stared down at him. He leaned in to whisper in his ear, “Now was that so hard?” Poseidon rolled his eyes, a fading blush still dusting his cheeks.

“Incredibly so,” he deadpanned. With a heavy sigh and a wave of his trapped hand, the raging ocean calmed. “There you go, you crazy bastard,” he huffed, sounding almost fond.

“Thank you, that’s all I wanted,” Odysseus said, releasing the tension in his shoulders as he stared at the distant shore. “No hard feelings?” he asked, holding his hand out in a show of truce, forgetting for a moment that the God’s hands were still trapped.

In his deliriously giddy state, Poseidon had forgotten he was supposed to be trapped as he begrudgingly shook the mortal’s hand. He shifted form and slipped past the metal prongs on his trident, flowing into his full height as he stood on the rocks.

Odysseus was frozen in shock, looking between Poseidon and his trident.

“So you could get out the whole time?”

Poseidon’s smirk dropped as he realized the mistake he made. “Wait-” he tried to backtrack.

“And you were just letting it happen!” Odysseus added with a mocking smile, taking one last opportunity to tease him.

“Watch it, I can bring back the storm whenever I like!” he threatened, but it wasn’t nearly as scary as it should’ve been. “But I wasn’t going to resort to cheating in order to beat you,” he justified. Odysseus snorted in amusement, arching a brow skeptically.

“Cheating?” he repeated, making Poseidon scoff and drench him with a wave from behind. “Hey!”

“Using my powers to escape so easily would’ve just been cowardly and unfair,” he justified, because that’s totally the only reason…

“Yeah, cause you looked so brave giggling yourself silly,” Odysseus couldn’t help but taunt, enjoying the choked sputtering the comment earned.

“Whatever, it was getting loose. I would’ve broke free any second.”

“Oh? Is that why you tapped out?” he goaded further, still riding high off of the power trip. Poseidon weighed his options, but decided it wasn’t worth it.

“You’ve wasted enough of my time already. You’re lucky I have places to be,” he said, turning towards the water without another word.

“See ya later,” Odysseus called after him with a small wave. Poseidon froze in his tracks, looking back over his shoulder to glare at him.

“No you won’t,” he corrected harshly, flashing a small grin his way before melting into the waves, leaving Odysseus alone.

“Yeah I will,” he said to himself, smiling out at the calm sea.

[veryblushyswitch]

Also can we talk about how Viktor canonically has ticklish hands/wrists-

[anxious-lee]

the video quality is horrendous but the SCENE QUALITY IS 😘🤌

[fluffy-ami]

Omg okay so I've just gotten into HSR and I'm obsessed with your Lee Sampo drawings like.... he is just SUCH a tickle-able character with his goofy personality and his schemes. And the waist windows in his clothes??? Come ON. That man NEEDS to be wrecked. His laugh would be so sweet and silly I just know it -🍬

w.hat. have you done. 🪦 what have you doneeee 🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦 my gay little hand slipped once again, because or you- 🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

i can't stand the fact that i love this mf

[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.

[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

[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.