Gentle
pairing: Loki x female reader
synopsis: You don't think you're ticklish. Loki offers to prove you wrong.
word count: ~3500
warnings: lots of swearing, sexual tension, suggestive jokes and innuendo, possessive!Loki, minor violence (training sparring)
minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a sexually-charged relationship 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: This fic is for all the people who aren't affected by rough and tumble tickling. Who know that gentle can still be ruthless. I see you.
Sam was grounded.
So while he was strong, fast, and stubborn, he didn't have his wings. No aerial advantage.
And you were sharper. You moved with practiced ease, letting him tire himself out as he swung and lunged across the sunken sparring pit, meeting his strikes with sidesteps, well-placed counters, and a smirk you hoped was infuriating.
He went for your ribs.
You caught his wrist. Twisted. Used that leverage to hook your legs around him, then used his thrown balance to send him down.
His back hit the mat with a solid thud.
For a moment, he just blinked up at you, winded and momentarily stunned.
You grinned, settling your weight on top of him, knee digging into his ribs just hard enough to remind him who the boss was. "Tell me," you mused, "who did you say was getting their ass handed to them today?"
Sam huffed, mouth pursing into something half-annoyed, half-amused. "Yeah, screw you."
You arched a brow. "Not much of an apology."
His jaw tensed, eyes narrowing. A secondâs hesitation. You pounced.
Your fingers slipped under his ribs, pressing just enough-
"Shit!"
Your smirk quickly became a grin.
A choked laugh ripped out of him before he could stop it. He bucked violently, twisting beneath you as laughter tore through him like heâd been struck by lightning.
Your hand followed wherever he turned. "Something wrong, Wilson?"
"You demon-" He twisted again, finally using sheer force to throw you off. You hit the mat with a sharp roll over your shoulder, coming up to your feet in a fluid motion, laughing as he swore under his breath, breathless.
You two weren't the only ones laughing.
Thor chuckled, amused. Bucky smirked, arms crossed. Steve shook his head, exasperated. And Loki...
Loki was watching you like a cat watching a caged bird.
He tilted his head, eyes sharp, lips lifting in a slow, knowing smirk. "That," he said, "seems like an extraordinarily reckless tactic to introduce."
You dusted your hands off. "How so?"
Lokiâs smirk widened. He took the bait. "Because every person in this room is stronger than you. And now youâve gone and planted a very particular idea in their minds."
His gaze dragged over you, slow and deliberate. You crossed your arms, lifting that same brow in challenge. Giving him space to continue monologuing.
"I mean, really," he mused in a silken voice, "do you truly want to tempt fate by giving them the notion to simply hold you down and take their revenge?"
The air shifted, and you held back your confident smirk, just to play with him a bit. "They're welcome to try."
Bucky stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. "It's futile." He shot you a begrudging look. "We learned a long time ago - sheâs not ticklish."
Sam snorted. "Yeah, and itâs annoying as hell. Not many ways to get her back for all that sass."
You shot him a sly smile.
Loki made a sound in his throat - amused, unimpressed. "Youâre wrong."
Your eyes slid back to him, fixing him with a look. "Wrong? I'm not ticklish, Loki."
Lokiâs lips curled into a smirk. âYes, you are.â
Tense silence fell upon the room as the others turned to Loki, confused, silently hoping.
The moment stretched, electric.
Smirking eye contact, the crackle of something just shy of violent, just shy of something else.
You squinted. "I'm not lying. I've never been ticklish. Ask anyone in here."
âHmm, I'm sure they have tried with their clumsy mortal hands,â he murmured, voice low, rich, laced with wicked amusement. âI, however..." His smirk grew downright devious. "I could take you apart without breaking a sweat.â
Your stomach did something sharp and treacherous. The heat in your face spread down your neck before you could help it.
Sam snorted. âOh my god.â
Bucky shook his head, muttering something under his breath. Steve exhaled through his nose, clearly regretting his life choices.
You, however, refused to flinch.
âYeah, right.â
Loki chuckled, slow and dark.
âIâll gladly prove it,â he insisted, voice a lazy taunt, âas soon as youâre not afraid to submit to it."
The words pushed like a slow blade between your ribs. The challenge, goading you to agree to being pinned and tested, for him to catalogue your responses. Itâs not like he was going to succeed in tickling you, but submit?
No way in hell.
Your mouth parted in a scoff, heat flushing your neck, your cheeks, something sharp already forming on your tongue-
âOkay, this,â Sam interrupted, pointing one hand at each of you, âis the one of most sexual things Iâve ever seen in my life, and I once walked in on Thor oiling himself up for battle.â
You lunged.
Sam yelped, dodging back, but before you could reach him, a familiar arm hooked around your waist, effortlessly hauling you back onto the mat.
Bucky didnât even flinch. âEasy, killer."
Loki chuckled, low and pleased, as you pushed Bucky's arm away.
âI do so enjoy this part,â the god mused.
You exhaled sharply, still flushed, still coiled tight with something restless and unsatisfied. You took the bait. âWhat part?â
His gaze flicked to yours, amused, knowing. âThe part where you pretend to be annoyed.â
The others snorted.
Your mouth opened, but before you could fire back, Loki winked, turned, and made to leave.
Something in you rebelled.
âHey!" You called after him. "Come put your money where your mouth is, Your Highness."
Loki stopped.
He exhaled a low, dark chuckle, then, slowly, began rolling up the sleeves of his tunic, baring forearms lined with lean, deceptive strength.
âI didn't think,â he murmured, âyou'd want an audience for whatâs about to transpire.â
Sam made a strangled noise. âI hate this. I hate this weird foreplay.â
Thorâs booming laugh filled the room.
"Of course I want an audience," you hummed, ignoring the riffraff. "I want them all to witness you making a fool of yourself." You stepped back onto the mat, uncrossing your arms, opening your stance. "But Iâm not submitting. If you want me at your mercy, youâll have to earn it.â
Loki turned back, and - lazily, deliberately, with a smirk that was pure sin - prowled toward you. âVery well,â he purred with a tilt of his head. âLetâs play.â
But the moment his feet hit the mat, you got the sinking feeling that you'd just walked into a trap.
Youâd never sparred with Loki before. Hell, youâd never even seen him fight outside of an actual battlefield, where his chaos and skill blurred the line between strategy and sheer fucking audacity.
But now, circling each other under the dim gym lights, with him as your adversary, you saw raw, precise power coiled beneath his deliberate movements, waiting to unravel.
His stance was fluid, deceptively relaxed. Beautiful, cocky bastard. Every shift of his weight, every flicker of his gaze, calculated. You could tell he was watching you, reading you, in a way that made heat lick at the base of your spine. And deep in your belly.
So you lunged first.
In the blink of an eye, he dodged, slipping around your advance like a fast-flowing stream through your fingers, barely exerting any effort. Your body twisted, adjusting on instinct, throwing your weight into a feint before coming back around, aiming for his side.
But again, he was faster.
Loki flowed around your strike like water, his arm shooting out with lightning precision. You barely registered the movement before his palm landed solidly against your ribs - not with brute force, but a firm, pointed push, sending you stumbling off balance.
You caught yourself, breath coming sharp through your nose. He stood there, utterly at ease, watching you with a glint of amusement.
Smug, infuriatingly hot, cocky bastard.
You exhaled. Steady.
Regrouping, you moved again, but this time, you were smarter - testing- feeling out the way he reacted. The next time he dodged, you anticipated it, twisting mid-motion and using his own momentum against him, catching his arm and yanking.
It almost worked.
The instant you felt his weight shift, you knew - heâd let you do that.
You barely had time to react before he countered, twisting with impossible grace, his body moving like an under-sea shadow. You felt it before you saw it.
His hands on you.
Turning.
Your feet ripped out from under you.
The mat met your chest with a harsh thud, your breath shooting out of your lungs in a rush.
Your wrists flexed, instinctively pushing to lift yourself up - except one of them wasnât moving. Something heavy and warm pressed you down.
Your pulse jumped.
Loki was above you, his thighs caging your hips, one hand securing your wrist above your head. Your left side was left exposed, vulnerable. You snuck a glance at the rest of the team - on your... right - he chose to test the side they couldn't see. Why?
There were more important matters to tend to.
You struggled, but his grip was like iron, pressing your wrist into the mat, keeping your body still beneath his. The sheer weight of him was suffocating, and intoxicating, his lean muscle like warm steel.
The sound of your panting filled the space between you as you used your free hand to push against his knee, against the mat, to try and pry his hand off your wrist.
Nothing budged. Nothing. Especially not you.
So, finally, you gave up the fight, relaxing underneath him, letting your forehead fall to the mat as the others chuckled on the sidelines.
A low, satisfied, hum rumbled from his chest.
You clenched your jaw, ignoring the way the heat from his body seemed to sink into yours. âYeah, whatever. You're a thousand-year-old god, of course you're gonna win."
Loki chuckled. And that sound - deep, smug, thoroughly entertained - was infuriating.
You scoffed, and gave a snarky chuckle, lazing your head to the side, not the slightest bit concerned. "Well, go on. Do what you need to do. All of these guys have tried, failed, and reaped the embarrassment of prodding my stomach while I stare them down. Your turn."
"My turn," he repeated in a low, heat, murmur that made your neck prickle. "Theyâve all tried, have they?"
His eyes flicked toward the others - Bucky, Sam, Steve, Thor - still watching with rapt attention.
"I'm guessing they wrestled you, pinned you," Loki mused, "and I imagine they grabbed at your waist, or jammed their fingers clumsily under your arms, yes?"
Your stomach clenched at the cool, casual confidence in his voice.
His head dipped lower, lips brushing just past your ear.
"But no one's ever been gentle with you, have they?"
The implication landed hot in your stomach. With that tone, he definitely wasn't just talking about tickling.
"I donât need gentle," you gritted out, feeling the heat creep up your neck.
Loki hummed again. And then -
A single touch.
Soft. Featherlight. Unfamiliar.
A slow, wandering drag of fingertips under the hem of your shirt, gliding over your side with aching delicacy.
An involuntary shudder rippled through you, sparkling sensation travelling up your neck, down your hip.
Your breath hitched.
Lokiâs low chuckle vibrated against your back.
âOh, my. Was that a reaction?"
You tested your wrist again, his grip didnât budge. Iron.
âI-â You wet your lips, breathing out a nervous chuckle. Steady... âIf this is tickling, why do people react to it so violently? Sam practically-â
The words died in your throat as his fingers slipped higher.
A slow, agonisingly light scratching at your ribcage.
Your body shifted before you even realised. Some strange, new sensation bloomed alive beneath your skin - an almost electric tingle, sharp and shivery, not... uncomfortable but not something you could control.
You winced, feeling your own muscles betray you, your arm instinctively trying to pull down. Your brow furrowed.
Silence from the others.
Your pulse pounded as you turned your head and met their confused stares and raised brows.
Lokiâs voice dipped lower. âTell me,â he whispered, dark and taunting, âwhat do you feel?â
You swallowed. Your breath was unsteady. âI donât know, I-â
You barely got the words out before his fingers slipped higher, that damnably light touch moving quicker, scraping against your skin and nerves-
A sensation erupted.
Your body jerked.
A strangled noise caught in your throat - somewhere between a gasp and a sound youâd never made before - bubbling up.
No.
No fucking way.
Your fingers dug into the mat. Heat roared through your veins, panic flickering, because something strange was happening. Your body was reacting. Your breath hitching, catching, some kind of force simmering deep in your lungs-
âWhat the hell are you doing to me?â you demanded, voice breathless, confused, desperate.
Loki only laughed, dark and rich, and said, âProving a point.â
And then he picked up the speed.
A choked, gasping giggle burst out of you before you could stop it.
Your eyes widened.
The others on the sidelines looked gobsmacked.
The sensation grew, intensified, as Lokiâs fingers didnât stop.
You twisted violently, struggling under him, but his weight was unforgiving, his grip relentless.
Your lips parted, a stream of breathless giggles slipping free.
Oh, fuck.
Your body shuddered as his fingers skimmed higher, up to the skin stretched over the centre of your ribcage-
Your head hit the mat as laughter was yanked out of you. Your legs kicked, trying to gain traction, but Loki only chuckled at your useless attempts.
âWait- fucking- you-"
âWell,â Loki purred, so fucking pleased with himself, âNot ticklish, was it?â
The laughter ripped through your throat, unrelenting, spilling out in gasping waves as Lokiâs damnable fingers continued their excruciatingly light torment. The others on the sidelines cheered in pure delight as you laughed and laughed and twisted and squirmed.
But there was no escape.
No amount of tensing, no desperate attempts to throw him off, could do anything against his sheer strength and control. His weight pressed you into the mat, keeping you exactly where he wanted, his hand moving with deadly precision - every stroke of his fingertips dragging something shivery and unbearable from your skin.
Bucky's surprised scoff cut across your struggling. "Well I'll be."
"All this time, huh?" Steve huffed a laugh through his nose.
"Oh, you are definitely getting it from me," Sam's chortling threat made you turn your head away, back to where only Loki could see your profile.
Gods, Loki.
This wasnât the clumsy, forceful jabbing of a sparring partner trying to elicit a reaction.
This... this was deliberate. Skilled. Loki had found something new in you, and he was taking his time exploring it.
And the worst part?
The heat.
The deep, simmering pull in your stomach had nothing to do with his magic and everything to do with the way his body pinned yours, the warmth of his breath, the slow, dangerous way he was learning you.
You were done for.
âNow,â Loki called to the others, voice smooth and pleased and maddeningly composed over your breathless gasps, âwhat exactly should I be dishing out punishment for? As long as you all have tales of her misdeedsâŠâ
His fingers fluttered along your ribs, light and delicate, dragging over the hyper-sensitive skin. Your body seized with a squeal, then a sharp, gasping laugh.
ââŠIâll keep going.â
The traitorous bastards on the sidelines did not hesitate.
âHow much time you got?â Sam called, laughing.
"She replaced the protein powder with flour," Bucky offered. "Had us all drinking sludge in our shakes for days until we realised."
Loki hummed in amusement. "Clever." His fingers never stopped - the feathery, unbearable strokes at your lower ribs making your body tremble under him.
"Last week she convinced Thor that the Alexa was not only a real person, but 'Midgard's Only Goddess.'" Sam snorted. "Had Thor trying to win her favour for hours."
Loki chuckled, shaking his head as though deeply ashamed of you. His fingers slid higher up your ribs, the change in focus so sudden it made your breath hitch violently - your body arching before you could stop it.
"Oh, thatâs good," Sam laughed. "Keep her goin', we got more."
"She told the new recruits that I get my hair done at a salon called âThunder Struck,â" Thor added, betrayal in his voice. "The rumours-"
"-are completely true," you gasped, still somehow defiant through the breathless laughter spilling out of you.
Loki sighed in faux fatigue. "A habitual liar, too. Unfortunate." His fingers shifted again, this time creeping into the soft space under your arm-
Your laughter folded into silence.
A sharp, breathless inhale was all you could manage, body seizing as your nerves exploded with sensation. Your free hand slammed into the mat, trying to brace yourself.
Loki noticed.
âOh,â he purred, sounding far too satisfied. His fingers didnât move, just rested there, as if savouring the way you tensed beneath him. âI see.â
Your eyes widened. Somehow, you knew what was coming.
âI believe,â he murmured darkly, âIâve found the perfect place for my discipline.â
His fingers twitched.
A sharp, shuddering noise burst out of you.
Then he started moving.
Slow. Dragging.
Your body jolted before you could stop it, a sharp, helpless squirm beneath him. Your breath hitched violently in your throat, trying to hold in the laughter- you couldnât let him win-
His fingers curled against your skin in a perfectly devastating way, grazing soft circles in the deepest, most vulnerable part of that untouched nerve space, and the laughter broke out of you in an uncontrollable rush.
Loki sighed, as if he were so terribly disappointed.
âWhat was it you called me last week?â he mused, tracing, scratching, slow, taunting circles over every tormenting inch. âAh, yes - âhorny Shakespeare?ââ
You shrieked. Your trapped hand trembling into a fist, tears of mirth threatening hot behind your eyes.
The others roared with laughter.
âOr was it-â He shifted, pressing in closer, lips brushing against your burning ear, voice dripping with amusement, â-âovergrown magician with daddy issuesâ?â
You shrieked again, laughter breaking apart into gasping, desperate protests.
âOh, I rather like this one-â His fingers swirled, still unbearably light, sweeping quickly over the taut skin. âYou said I âprobably cry after sex.ââ
âI TAKE IT BACK-â
Loki laughed, dark and dangerous, sitting back up as his fingers scraped gently, just enough to send fire through your nerves, to make your laughter break, to send your legs kicking uselessly against the mat.
"Ah, and my favourite," Loki continued, relentless, "-you looked me dead in the eyes, in front of the entire team, and asked me if my horns were, in fact, just overcompensation for something far more-"
He was cut off when his fingers stroked, just so, against the place just below your arm where your ribcage ended, and laughter tore through you, something wrecked in your voice, your body shaking against his.
"Oh, you didn't like that, did you?" he soothed in mock sympathy before his voice gave way to a dark, sensuous chuckle.
"Loki- PLEASE!"
You had never begged before.
But you'd never been ticklish before.
And Loki - Loki fucking knew.
His chuckle returned as his hand slowed to a stop, fingers still perched threateningly as your ragged breath expelled beneath him.
"Did you hear that, gentlemen?" Your chest heaved, body shaking from the sheer force of it all, something deeply unsettled in your bones as his palm smoothed down your side, lingering before his fingers tightened at your hip, his grip possessive. "I do believe our dear girl has finally learned some manners."
Your entire body burned.
Then, Loki pushed off, moving effortlessly to his feet as if the last five minutes hadnât utterly destroyed you.
True to his word, he hadn't broken a sweat.
You barely managed to push yourself onto your knees, your body unsteady, your breathing still laboured.
"Wait, hold up," Sam interrupted, holding a hand towards you. "Loki, you gotta show us how to do that."
Loki stiffened. It was barely noticeable. A flicker. A shift in the air.
And then - smooth as ever, with an icy calm that sent a clear warning, "I used magic," he said, holding up a hand with fingertips glowing green. "You are not capable, and you should not try."
You looked up, saw the chilled death in his stare that bored into Sam.
Liar.
That's why he chose to test the side no one else can see; he didn't want anyone else knowing how to undo you.
And everyone knew it. The implication was clear:
Back off.
Sam held up his hands immediately. "Alright, damn. Not trying to start an intergalactic incident."
The tension in the room eased as you caught your breath, but the tension inside you only burned hotter.
Loki turned and met your gaze with something solemn in his expression, something dark and wanting... protective.
Something only for you.
And fuck, you were both done for.
.
.
















