#not a tickle fic sorry
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My Mummy and My Simon
Fandom: Ted Lasso
W/C: 1.5k
A/N: Ok, I'm back with a fic, but fair warning it isn't a tickle fic. This has been rotting in my drafts for months and I just happened to be struck by the inspiration stick today. I hope you enjoy anyway!
“This is my Mummy and my Simon.”
It was how Jamie had introduced them for as long as he could remember. When he was a lad, he felt special when he said it - everybody and their Mummy had a Da, but Jamie was the only one with a Simon.
Jamie didn’t see them as often nowadays, with the distance between Richmond and Manchester, but he suspects that if he had anyone to introduce them to, that was still how he would do it.
He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about it, to be honest, while he stared at today’s post on his kitchen island. His housekeeper usually brings it in when she arrives and leaves it for Jamie to sort through. It’s rarely anything special - who uses the post anymore? - just the usual notices from the town and sometimes one of those circulars with coupons from the Tesco. Jamie wasn’t really sure why he felt so sick when he looked at it that day, until his brain processes what his eyes have already seen - the neatly typed James Tartt, Jr. across the front of one of the bills.
Jamie hated his full name with a passion - forever a reminder of the man who haunts his nightmares, the man who Jamie himself could become if he’s not careful. Jamie grimaced and turned away, forcing back the memories of what had happened when James overheard him telling someone that he lived with his Mummy and his Simon.
Simon was an odd duck, to be sure, but then again so was Jamie. He was a large man, still taller than grown-up Jamie, but he never made Jamie feel small or unsafe. Jamie was pretty sure it was impossible for Simon to make anyone feel that way, with his soft pastel jumpers and his obsession with that baking show and his job at the library. When it took Jamie so much longer than the other kids to learn to read, Simon never said a word about it, just gifted Jamie CD’s that Simon had recorded of himself reading Jamie’s favorite books for Jamie’s eighth birthday. He was pretty sure Simon didn’t know that after Jamie got his first Premiere League cheque, he had paid someone to put the recordings on his new phone. Jamie still listened to Simon’s voice read Percy Jackson and the Lightning Thief when he came down with a cold.
Jamie fixed himself a post-training smoothie and sighed. Roy was bringing Phoebe over for Jamie to babysit since Roy had a coaches meeting and Ruth was busy saving lives at the hospital. Jamie idly washed out his blender, thinking of Simon and Mummy and how he really should give them a call soon. He was so lost in thought he didn’t hear Roy and Phoebe let themselves in before they were in his kitchen and Roy said, “Why the fuck do you get that wanker’s post sent to your house?”
Jamie whirled around, hand on his racing heart, before he processed what Roy was saying. “What?”
“Hi Jamie!” Phoebe waved cheerfully before going right over to the coffee table where he had gotten out the coloring books he kept specifically for Phoebe Days.
“Why is your arse of a father getting his post here?” Roy restated, gesturing to the pile of mail on the counter. “Thought you said you didn’t talk to him anymore?”
“I don’t,” Jamie said, confused. “That’s my post.”
Roy did a double take. “You’re named after that piece of shit?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you change it?”
“I did change it.” Jamie said. “Don’t go by James, now, do I?”
“I meant legally,” Roy explained. “So you don’t have to be fucking James Tartt Jr. in the fucking public record.”
“You can do that?” Jamie asked, incredulous, just as Phoebe called, “That’s five pounds so far, Uncle Roy!”
“Put it on my tab,” Roy called back. “And yeah, you can do that, you muppet. Costs like fifty pounds and might take a couple of weeks for the paperwork to come back, but you can do it. I still badger Ruth sometimes to change her name back to Kent, but she doesn’t want the fucking publicity.”
“Huh,” Jamie said, a whole new world of possibilities opening up before him. Roy kissed Phoebe goodbye and left for his meeting, and Jamie and Phoebe spent the afternoon coloring and playing kickabout in the yard.
***
A few days later, Jamie found himself on some government website, since you can do everything on the internet these days. He carefully typed Jamie into the form where it asked for what he wanted his new first name to be, cause it would be super embarrassing to have a typo and then have to do the whole thing all over again. The next box asked if he wanted to change his middle name, and Jamie paused. He hadn’t thought about that.
Jamie thought of James. He thought of Mummy, and he thought of Simon, and found he didn’t really need to think about it at all.
***
Simon’s birthday rolled along, and Jamie made the usual arrangements to donate to the library in Simon’s name. He’d done it every year since he could scrounge up the money, mowing lawns of council estates after Under-10’s training and looking after neighborhood kids until he had enough for a ten or fifteen pound donation. It never failed to bring a tear or two to Simon’s eyes, even now that Jamie had more money than he knew what to do with and made monthly donations to Simon’s library anyway, not that Simon knew that.
Jamie packed a bag to go and visit Manchester for Simon’s birthday, and as he printed his receipt showing the library donation to give to Simon, his eyes lingered on the email he’d received from the Royal Courts of Justice, notifying him that his change of name had been processed successfully. Before he could talk himself out of it, Jamie printed that off too, carefully folded it up with the donation receipt, and placed it in a small gift bag patterned with cheerful yellow ducks. It was made for kids, but Jamie knew Simon would appreciate it.
The drive to Manchester wasn’t too long, especially once Jamie put on Simon’s narration of the second Percy Jackson book. He’d made it through a good fifteen chapters by the time he was pulling his flashy car into the old familiar row of council estates.
Georgie shrieked, as she always did, when she flung open the door to her ‘sexy little baby!’ and Jamie picked her up and swung her around.
Simon’s familiar, “Oh, there they go!” sang in Jamie’s ears as he put Mummy down and turned to wish Simon a happy birthday.
The three of them migrated to the kitchen, Simon having made an impressive array of Jamie-friendly desserts. Georgie and Jamie sang an off-key rendition of Happy Birthday, and Simon pretended to conduct them with his candy thermometer. Soon enough, Jamie was pushing his be-ducked gift bag onto the table in front of Simon.
“Now, what could this be?” Simon grinned as he snagged the donation receipt from among the tissue paper. He unfolded it and, to no one’s surprise, unsuccessfully blinked back tears. “Oh, Duckie, thank you so much!” he said, and launched into an explanation of the new kids learn-to-read program that the donation would fund for the next year.
Not expecting anything else, Simon placed the receipt back in the bag and reached for Georgie’s gift. “Actually, there’s one more thing in there,” Jamie said sheepishly.
“More!” Simon mouthed amazedly to himself as he went back to the yellow bag. Jamie watched with anticipation as Simon drew out the email and carefully unfolded it, squinting his eyes a bit as he began to read.
Jamie watched as a dumbfounded look came over his stepfather, and he opened his mouth to start to say he could always change it back, but before he could Simon looked up at Jamie and burst into tears. Georgie startled, and Jamie leapt up in alarm, not sure whether to run away or try and comfort him. Simon made the decision for him when he stood and threw his arms around Jamie, still sobbing noisily.
Jamie, bewildered, gingerly patted Simon on the back, before swallowing and asking, “It’s alright then?”
Simon just sobbed louder, clumsily running his fingers through Jamie’s hair as Georgie muttered, “What on earth?” and snatched the paper from her husband’s hand. Before long, she too was sobbing, though still quite a bit more composedly than Simon. There, clearly written on the page, were the words: Official Change of Name - Jamie Simon Tartt.
Eventually everyone calmed down enough for Simon to say that it was more than alright, that he loved Jamie so much, that he was so honored by Jamie’s choice, and that was enough to get Jamie and Georgie with the waterworks again, Simon himself following not long after.
They sat on the sofa for the rest of the evening, watching old reruns of Simon’s baking show and eating too many of Simon’s desserts. Jamie sat between his Mummy and his Simon, who wouldn’t let go of his boy for anything, relishing in the evening spent with his family.
#non tickles#ted lasso fic#jamie tartt#georgie aka jamie tart's mummy#simon#does he get a last name?#unknown#family#not a tickle fic sorry
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Bonding Exercise
Sequel to “Rough Day”
Summary: Angel and Husk try to escape Charlie’s new idea for a bonding exercise, but The Princess, her girlfriend, and a certain Radio Demon are persistent.
TW: Tickling (slightly intense), Swearing, Slight Restraints, Alastor being a bastard, References to Alastor’s past, Angel Dust being Angel Dust.
Disclaimer: I do not support V*v*z*epop, I simply like the characters and exploring their dynamics, usually in silly ways.
Part Three
“One~”
Despite the distance the two demons had put between themselves and the Radio Demon, they both could clearly hear his voice, accentuating how absolutely fucked they were. Angel was a bit faster, his longer legs giving him an advantage, but Husk wasn’t far behind, running quicker than he ever had in his life or unlife.
“Split up!” Angel exclaimed, quickly turning down a random hallway.
“Don’t need to fucking tell me twice!” Husk replied, almost skidding to a halt as he course-corrected down an entirely different hallway.
Charlie stopped upon seeing them both go in different directions, pouting slightly “Now who do we go after?”
“How about you two go after our effeminate fellow, and I’ll go after Husker?” Alastor suggested, though Vaggie raised an eyebrow.
“We’re not trying to torture them.” The bodyguard replied, to which the deer waved a hand.
“If I intended to torture either of those two, everyone would know.” Alastor replied, the radio effects of his voice becoming more sinister, but just for a moment. “No, I simply think our dear bartender needs to smile a bit more!”
“Come on Vaggie, I think I know where Angel’s running!” Charlie exclaimed, grabbing her girlfriend by the arm before she could protest and starting down a different hallway.
Vaggie couldn’t help but give Charlie a smile, despite thinking the whole idea was a bit ridiculous. Still, it gave her an excuse to get Angel back for all the times the spider demon had messed with them, or done anything that pushed back his ‘progress.’ She also knew she couldn’t find it in herself to say ‘no’ to the Princess, especially when she got that determined glimmer in her eyes.
“Good luck, darlings!” Alastor called as they both ran off, before continuing his own pursuit of the bartender.
—
Angel ran as fast as his legs could carry him, listening for any signs of his pursuers. All he needed to do was get to his room and barricade himself in there until Charlie forgot this whole dumb idea. However, Hell was more likely to freeze over than its Princess giving up or forgetting any of her ideas.
The spider knew his room was close, and he hadn’t seen or heard any of the purseres. Maybe that all went after Husk? A small shudder went up Angel’s spine as he looked behind him. As much as he did not want to be tickled again, the idea of the cat demon being tickled by Charlie, Vaggie, and Alastor was a fate he wouldn’t wish upon anyone in the hotel.
“Oh Angel!” He was torn from his thoughts, looking forward and almost screaming as he saw The Princess and her girlfriend, waiting right in front of his door.
“Found you.” Vaggie said, grinning mischievously.
Angel attempted to turn on his heel, but couldn’t slow down enough for it to be effective. His legs got tangled in one another, and he tumbled to the floor, groaning as he did. Before he could even attempt to get up and flee, the girls were upon him, Vaggie holding his upper pair of arms over his head, while Charlie straddled his waist.
“L-Ladies please,” Angel attempted to beg, tugging his arms as best he could. “Y-You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, we know.” Vaggie said with a sly grin. “But we want to.”
Charlie immediately started skittering her figures on Angel’s stomach, making the spider snicker. Angel attempted to shove the Princess off with his lower set of arms, but anytime he tried, Charlie would ‘accidentally’ tickle a bit harder, making him lose focus.
“C-Chaahahaharlihihihihe wahahahait!”
“Awww but Angel, you look so happy right now!”
“Behehehecause yohohohou’re tihihihihckling mehehehe!”
Angel squealed as Charlie’s claws made their way to his lower set of armpits, shaking his head. In his attempts to plead with the Princess, he didn’t notice until it was too late that Vaggie had changed her position, pinning his upper arms with her legs, soon feeling her fingers on his ribs.
“EEP! NohhoohoHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHerehehehe!” Angel shrieked, his face turning a light pink shade.
“Hey, Angel, do you have more or less ribs as a spider?” Vaggie asked, ignoring his pleas. “Guess I need to double check.”
“Dohohohon’t YOHOHOOHHOU DAHAHAHRE, Vahahahahagina!”
The pornstar felt Vaggie stop tickling him for a moment, making him realize he had just dug his own second grave. Any begging he could have done was soon cut off by the feeling of the hotel guard’s fingers slowly and torturously dragging over his ribs, followed shortly by her counting.
“SHIHIHIHIT SIHIHIHHIT IHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHRRY!” Angel cried out, kicking his legs as the girls continued tickling him.
“Two… three… Fiv- Wait, that’s not right.” The spider could practically hear the smirk in Vaggie’s voice “Can you hold still? I’m trying to count.”
“IHIHIHIHI CAHHAHAAN’T!” Angel whined
“Aww, sure you can Angel!” Charlie said encouragingly. “I’ll even go slower so you can focus!”
At that, Angel felt Charlie’s tactic switch from scribbling on his lower armpits, and a finger on each one just slowly start circling around the hollows, driving him up a wall. It tickled just enough to get him giggling, but also left him wanting more. The spider was starting to get the suspicion that somehow, someway, the girlfriends had gotten Cherri Bomb to tell them exactly how to destroy him.
“Five… six… Huh, you’re actually doing a good job.” Vaggie said as she tickled between his ribs “Guess the redemption work is paying off.”
“Well, he hasn’t asked us to stop.” Charlie pointed out, making Angel’s face turn an even darker shade of pink. “Maybe he’s enjoying this~?”
Fuck, despite how kind Charlie was, she was absolutely fucking evil when it came to tickling.
—-
Alastor hummed as he casually walked the direction Husk went. Sure, the Radio Demon could simply summon the bartender to him, but where was the fun in that? If there was one thing he loved more than the act of killing, it was the thrill of the chase. The fear and desperation in people’s eyes, the absolute panic that washed over as they were cornered, before he descended upon them.
An expression he’d like to see on that obnoxious, pompous, piece of shit television one day.
It was an expression he had seen Husker make many times over their years knowing each other. Though, often that was because the cat had done something to make the deer angry. Now? Now, Alastor would be seeing the hotel’s dear bartender making that expression for an entirely different reason.
It was one of the reasons he suggested to be the one to go after Husk. Not just due to their longer time knowing each other, but because the Radio Demon was already aware of what would cause the cat to break from his usual grumpy demeanor. Surely, people would assume Alastor of all people would think tickling was a waste of time, but oh, how he enjoyed it.
Spending time with both Husk and Niffty, he had learned a few things. Specifically, the maid wasn’t at all ticklish, whereas the bartender was entirely too ticklish for his own good. If nothing else, Alastor was known for dealing in extremes.
“Ah, there you are!” Alastor exclaimed, seeing Husk had run himself into a corner, the cat quickly turning to look at him.
“Shit, fuck, dammit!” A string of expletives left the bartender’s mouth as he tried to look for a way to escape. Any hopes of that were cut off by the shadows that followed the Radio Demon pinned the cat to the wall. “Look, boss, t-this whole thing is ridiculous.”
“Oh, on the contrary, Husker, I think this will be quite enjoyable!” Alastor said, looking the bartender over. So many good places to start, and each eliciting a different reaction from Husk.
Husk, meanwhile, tried to free himself. If he hadn’t known any better, the cat would have assumed Alastor somehow planned all of this. Which, he really couldn’t put past the deer, but planning for Nift to tickle Angel, leading to this whole thing? That was the type of planning not even the Radio Demon could come up with.
Mostly because no one could really ‘plan’ for anything with it came to the hotel maid.
“I recall this,” Alastor began, the claws on his right hand gently wiggling on Husk’s chin. “Being a wonderful place to start.”
The reaction was instant, the cat’s fur quickly puffing up slightly as he bit his lip. He wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction, not if he could help it. Of course, he had tried, and failed, in the past, but that didn’t mean he was just going to give in to the Radio Demon’s antics.
“Still trying that tactic, are we?” The deer hummed in amusement, moving his other hand to Husk’s side. “I never understand why you must make things so difficult!”
A few snickers came out, but the bartender was determined, trying to squirm away from Alastor’s hands. Said hands simply followed where the cat moved. Now, Alastor could use his powers to tickle multiple spots at once, but that was something reserved for those who pissed him off enough to face his wrath, but not enough to where he’d be satisfied by killing them.
“You know, Husker,” Alastor said casually, like he wasn’t tickling the demon before him. “When we were filming that ridiculous commercial for the hotel, I had half a mind to have our darling Niffty tickle you, just off-camera, so you’d be smiling!”
“Bihihihihite me!” Husk replied, doing his best to glare at the Overlord.
“A poor choice of words, considering who you’re talking to.” The Radio Demon chuckled, now slowly moving his left hand toward the bartender’s side. “You should really think before you speak.”
Husk tried to growl at Alastor, but it was cut off by the ticklish feeling on his side. More snickers gave way, the cat demon��s lips forming a wobbly smile despite his best efforts. He felt the deer’s right hand move from his chin and start poking his ribs, making the bartender snort a bit. He knew the deer was messing with him, taking his time before going right for Husk’s death spot.
“I never tire of counting your ribs, Husker.” Alastor mused. “Afterall, I need to make sure you’re all together!”
“Yohohohohou cohohohohocky bahahahastard!” Husk retorted.
Alastor tsked, and the cat felt himself start to panic as the Overlord’s hands went toward his stomach. “Always with the fowl language, that should be reserved for birds!”
If Husk could groan, he would. Of course Alastor had to get one of his stupid ‘jokes’ in while the bartender couldn’t just walk out of the room. Though, the puns did help whenever the Radio Demon wanted Angel Dust to leave him alone. He didn’t know what was worse, the Overlord’s love of ‘dad jokes’, or his insatiable sadistic streak.
“Wohohohuld yoohohhou stohohohp- FUHUUHUHUHCK!” Husk exclaimed as Alastor scratched and clawed at his stomach. The first of the bartender’s worst spots.
Once he was sure Husk couldn’t escape, Alastor snapped his fingers, causing the shadows to let him go as the bartender slid to the floor, still trying to run away from the Radio Demon’s fingers. The deer poked and prodded, even circling a finger slowly around where the cat’s belly button would be.
“Don’t cats enjoy having their stomachs petted?” Alastor teased, a small laugh track coming from him.
“THAHAHAT’S dohohohohohgs yohohoHOHOHO PRIHIHIHICK!”
“Ah, forgive me.” Alastor said, not at all sounding apologetic “I was never a ‘dog’ person. Cats are much more amusing!”
“Thhihihihihis IHIHIHISN’T AMUHuhuhuhuhumsing!”
“You’re entitled to your opinion, but you wouldn’t be laughing if it wasn’t!”
Husk was going to kill him. Okay, no, he wasn’t that stupid or reckless, but he was going to make sure the Radio Demon paid for this. However, Husk’s plans of revenge were cut off by the feeling of two of Alastor’s tendrils stroking his wings, causing the bartender to scream with laughter.
“You know, I think Niffty needs to brush your wings soon, when was the last time she did that?” Alastor asked, despite knowing Husk wouldn’t be able to answer.
Despite both Angel and Husk being tickled out of their minds, they both hated to admit they were having fun. Maybe Charlie’s idea wasn’t so dumb.
#hazbin hotel tickle#tickle fic#tickle#lee!angeldust#lee!husk#ler!vaggie#ler!charlie#ler!alastor#a LOT of ya'll wanted part 2 so here you go#will there be a part 3? probably. Angel and Husk need their revenge#sorry it cuts off weirdly I wanted to finish this before I disappear for a week to spend time with my bf
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Sweet Tranquility
Pairing -Lee!Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader
Word count - 1,293
In which Lucifer seems to be falling back into the unhealthy obsession of creating rubber ducks, which takes a toll on his sleep schedule and your relationship. You’re the only one who knows him best, so you pull out a trick that gets him to calm down and feel loved all at the same time.
This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.
The clock was nearing 2 AM, rain being heard pitter-pattering on the window. It was another restless night for you, tossing and turning in your sleep to find that perfect comfy position that’ll knock you out. In the middle of your tossing and turning, you mindlessly search for Lucifer, something to hold and cuddle into since you begin to shiver a bit.
A few seconds go by, and you open your eyes to see he was yet again, not in bed. You sigh, but more in annoyance, knowing this is the third night in a row where he hasn’t been in bed, leaving you all alone. In the morning you’ve tried asking him what he’s been doing awake so late, and he eases your worries by saying he had only gone to use the bathroom. You never went out to go see for yourself, wanting to believe him. However, this night you had a gut feeling you should go search for him. Because unless he has a weird bathroom schedule he didn’t tell you about, you’re starting to call bullshit on him going off to use it every night around 2 AM, and he doesn’t even come back until an hour or two go by.
You treaded quietly down the hall, seeing if you could hear where exactly he was at. Your ears picked up on slight noise coming from the living room, and when you got a little closer you saw light shining from there. As you peeked your head in, that’s when you saw Lucifer sitting down near the coffee table, focusing on painting a rubber duck. Beside him seemed to be twenty more jumbled together, all in different colorful outfits and top hats.
“Lucy?” You called out, causing him to jump slightly from not expecting you to be awake. He immediately starts stuttering, searching for an explanation. “Oh! Y/N- I uhh- haha was just uhm..” His eyes dart around the room, fixing onto the huge grandfather clock that touches up the living room just perfectly, cluttering all the ducks under the rug as if you haven’t spotted them already.
“..I was on my way to the bathroom, per usual! As I noticed this beautiful babe of a clock we have here.” He rubs his chin in thought, looking over his shoulder at you. “Did you know we always had this?” Lucifer nervously laughs, the stutter making its appearance again when you gave him eyes of worry. “In the- er uh- house we’ve been practically living in for many years…”
All you did in response was take his hand into yours, the other finding its way to caress his cheek and then he broke.
“Fuck, I’m sorry Y/N. I promised it wouldn’t get this bad again, and I… well- I’m just so-“ you bring him into a hug to shush him, rubbing his back comfortingly. “Hey, we don’t have to talk about this right now. Let’s just go back to bed, okay?”
Lucifer nodded as you two walked back, hands interlocked. Getting into bed at the same time, moving around into a comfy position and settling with facing each other as your heads slightly bump together. Silence fills the room, almost passing out right then and there until you hear some shuffling.
You try to ignore it, assuming Lucifer wasn’t comfortable enough and was moving a little bit. Although the shuffling continued, making you sit up and look down at him. “Is everything alright?”
“I can’t sleep.” He says with a huff, staring up at the ceiling defeatedly.
This wasn’t your first rodeo where Lucifer couldn’t have sleep fall upon him. He always struggled becoming tired at the appropriate time, so it led you to come up with some ideas to help him.
“Do you want me to make you a hot drink?” You first suggested, something that always helps you knockout yourself. Lucifer shook his head, letting out a sigh. “No, that won’t do.”
“A massage, maybe?”
“Those never work.”
“How about watching a little bit of Tv?”
“We’ll accidentally stay up all night if we do that.”
You sit back on the bed headrest, forgetting how difficult he could be. It was like taking care of a child rather than your significant other.
That was until a lightbulb suddenly shined in your mind, a smile slowly forming, one he couldn’t see from how dark the room is, the city lights barely shining through the curtains to make some sort of visibility.
“Actually, I think I know what might do the trick.” The sound of your voice sounded more mischievous than comforting, which caused Lucifer to look over but let out a yelp of surprise from you straddling his waist in a quick second.
“What are you doing— H-HEHEY!” His question got cut off with a strangled giggle, your hands finding their way up to his underarms, going straight for the kill so soon.
As funny as it sounds, tickling was one of what seems like the only methods that helped tired out Lucifer. You can’t remember how exactly you stumbled upon this discovery, but what you do know is how he never complains because he secretly enjoys the thrill of it all. You tried getting him to admit it at one point, but you didn’t get far.
“Nohoho, wait! Wait!” Lucifer snapped his arms down but at the same time trying to grab at your wrists, but he didn’t pull them away. You both knew he had the strength to do so, but you’ll never comment on why he never does. The reason was clear as day.
No matter how many ‘please!’s or ‘stop!’s he throws at you, it all meant the opposite. “Y’know, times like these it makes it hard to believe you’re the ruler of Hell.” You teased, digging in his underarms a little deeper to pull out that snort he does. You weren’t left disappointed, him snorting as his hair becomes more unraveled with each shake of his head.
“I’ll shohow you once I’m FREHEHEE!” A squeal escapes him the minute you latch onto his thighs, the spot you go to when he gets snippy. Fingers find their way to his inner thighs, squeezing in a fast pace. “Lets see if you have enough energy once we’re finished, yeah?” You scoffed, almost nearly getting bucked off but you still had a firm grip on his thighs.
Thighs would be rank one for one of his most ticklish spots, his underarms being a close second. It takes only a few seconds for his laughter to become hoarse and silent, which has already happened, causing you to go slow and skitter your nails around his neck. You smiled at the sight of his cheeks becoming a more vibrant shade of red than it usually is, being a giggly mess and trying to trap your fingers under his chin.
“Ohohokay, I’ll sleheheep! I’m tired! I swehear!” He desperately pleas. His breathless state was convincing enough, but if there’s one thing you learned from all the times Lucifer tickled you, it was to be a little shit.
“Hmm, are you sure?” You left pokes all around his stomach, watching each poke earning you quiet giggles. He moves his hands away from your wrists up to your hands, and you let him. “Yehes, now leave me alohone.” You planted a kiss on his cheek, finally moving off of him. “Never.”
You tucked yourself back in bed, looking over to realize he is still giggling. “You do know I stopped, right?”
“Shut the hell up.”
You let out a breathy laugh. “It worked though. You can barely keep your eyes open now.”
Lucifer moved to lay on his side, a hand caressing your cheek. “It did, thank you.”
“I love you.”
#hazbin hotel tickle#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel tickle fics#tickle fic#tickle community#lee!lucifer#ler!reader#lee!lucificer x ler!reader#lucificer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer tickle#I WRITE SO SLOWWWW IM SORRY#but I hope you guys like it teehee I luv that little man
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Jax's Only Weakness
Fandom - The Amazing Digital Circus
Summary - Jax decides to spend his time bugging Ragatha. Unfortunately for him, Ragatha ends up discovering a little secret about Jax and uses it against him.
Note: Sorry for the wait. I ended up getting sick for a while. But now that I've pretty much recovered, I can finally finish this fic.
Jax walked through the halls, with his usual smug grin. He likes to go around and find a way to entertain himself, usually by finding someone to pull another one of his pranks on. He WAS just gonna go mess with Gangle, given that she was the easiest target. But, on his way there, Jax couldn't help but perk up at Ragatha's door. He grinned wider and went over, deciding that he would pester his favorite ragdoll. Jax grinned, slyly, as he knocked on Ragatha's door, repeatedly. He didn't stop knocking until she answered, swinging the door open with a slightly irritated look. Ragatha stood in the doorway with her hand on her hip, definitely not amused with Jax's antics. Or the smug smile that he was giving her. "Do you have to do that, Jax?", she said as she looked up at him. Jax shrugged, nonchalantly. "Sure I do. It's polite to knock.", he said as he winked at her. Jax then, casually, pushed passed Ragatha and walked into her room, not even waiting for her to allow him in. " 'Sides, you made me give back the key to your room. So, it's not like I could've just let myself in." Jax hopped onto Ragatha's bed, messing up the neatly folded sheets, as he let himself get comfortable. He sighed before looking over at Ragatha, still wearing his smug grin. "So, anyways, how's it going, dollface?"
Ragatha groaned as she shut the door behind her, folding her arms as she walked over to Jax with a scolding look. "Jax, was there something that you wanted? Or did you really just come here to cause trouble, like you normally do?" Jax just barely managed to hold back a snicker at Ragatha's tone. It was always such a hoot when he managed to get under her skin. Well...sort of her skin. "Whaaat? Can't a guy just want to hang out with one of his best friends in the world?" Jax flashed a sly smile at her as he spoke in his casual tone. "It's not like YOU have anything better to do." Ragatha put her hands on her hips as she raised an eyebrow. "What's that supposed to mean?" Jax, casually, checked his nails, even though he was wearing gloves. "Oh, nothing. It's just that organizing your bow collection, or tryin' to make a dumb collage, ain't exactly what I'd call exhilarating, dollface." Ragatha scoffed as she scowled down at Jax, standing next to the bed. The nerve of this guy! "Well, at least, I'm not hiding any bugs inside of my friends' rooms! Jax!" Jax continued to grin as he shrugged his arms. "Hey, you don't know, for sure, that it's me. Could be Kinger. You know the guy's CRAZY about insects or whatever." Ragatha groaned as she rolled her eye. "I swear, Jax, you are just unbelievable, sometimes.", she said as she poked him in the ribs. Though, something happened that she wasn't expecting. Jax's breath hitched as he jumped, wrapping his arms around himself in alarm.
Ragatha's eye widened as she pulled her hand back. What was that? There was an awkward pause before Ragatha decided to do it again, this time getting a stifled squeak before Jax batted her hand away while glaring at her. "H-Hey! Knock it off, will ya?" Ragatha stared down at Jax with a puzzled look. The squeak. The blush on his face. The way he was protecting himself. That could only mean...
"Jax? Are you-" "No! I'm not!" Jax cut Ragatha off before she could say it. He knew what she was going to ask. But, as if he would actually let her in on one of his biggest secrets. "You didn't even let me finish.", she said as she started to smirk a bit. Jax crossed his arms as he looked off to the side. He was still blushing, slightly, as he tried to brush it off. Though, his defensive tone was giving him away. "Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. Because the answer is still no. So, why don't you just lay off it." Ragatha's smirk grew as she looked at him with a knowing look. Oh, yeah. He definitely was. "You know, Jax, it's not a very good idea to be so rude to your 'best friend in the world'. Especially, when you're so...ticklish." Jax's face fell and his blush deepened. He turned to Ragatha with a warning glare as he got even more defensive. "I-I said to lay off it, Rags! I already told you that I'm not!" Ragatha's knowing smirk grew into a cheeky smile as she got closer to him, ever so slowly. "Oh, yeah? Then how come you're getting nervous?". She then gave him another poke to his ribs, as she says, "And how come you jump every time I do this?" Jax jumped and let out another stifled sound, before wrapping his arms around himself, again, as he started trying to lean away from Ragatha. "Would you stop that?! And quit givin' me that look!" Ragatha let out a mischievous giggle as she got even closer. She makes a clawing motion with her hands as they reach out for Jax. Jax's expression became more nervous and panicked as he looked at Ragatha. "R-Rags? Don't even think about it. I'm warning you, dollface! Get away from me! I'm not-ACK!"
Jax was cut off by Ragatha pouncing and tackling him down to the bed. She then, without wasting any time, started to tickle Jax's ribs with an evil grin. "Gotcha!" Jax tried to block Ragatha's hands as he turned his head to hide his face from her. Desperately, trying not to laugh. "S-Stahap! GeHEHt off!" Ragatha smiled, mischievously, as she continued tickling. She didn't let up for a second and started to speak in a teasing tone. "Come on, Jax. You're not fooling anyone. I know you're ticklish." Jax continued to let out grunts and stifled giggles as he squirmed around, underneath Ragatha. "N-Noho, I'm nohohot!" Ragatha smirked down at Jax before she brought her hands down to squeeze Jax's sides. Jax let out a wheeze before he burst into a fit of giggles. He kicked and squirmed around, trying to push Ragatha off as all of the laughter he'd been trying to keep in, finally, floods out of him. "Ahahahahaha! Stohohohohop ihihihit! C-Cuhut it ohohohohout!" Ragatha's smirk grew as she kept squeezing and pinching along Jax's sides. She finally got the reaction she wanted, and now, she was determined to make the most of it. "See? I knew it! You're just as ticklish as I thought." Jax continued to wheeze and giggle, uncontrollably. He could feel his pride start to disappear from being taken down so easily, with a few tickles. "Gehehehet ohohoff of meheheheee! This-HAAhahahahaha-this isn't fuhuhuhuhunnhyhyhy!" Ragatha then used one hand to tickle his belly while using the other to go for his neck, all while giving him that same, victorious, grin. There was something so satisfying about getting the upper hand on the prankster bunny. "Well, now you know how WE feel about your little jokes. Not so funny when it's YOU being picked on, huh, Jax?" Jax scrunched his neck as he curled up, starting to laugh harder. His usual smug grin was all wobbly, at this point, as he kept trying to push Ragatha off, to no avail. "Gehhehehehehe! Wehehell, yohou know whahahat? At leheheheast thehehey ahahahahadd to thehehe excihihitemehehehent!"
Ragatha continued her merciless tickle onslaught. She used both hands to tickle Jax's belly now, trying to figure out his most ticklish spots. All the while, Jax continued to laugh and wheeze his heart out. He tried to roll onto his side as he curled up, hoping that it would do SOMETHING to deter Ragatha's tickles. However, it did nothing to break Ragatha's determination to render the rabbit helpless. She simply continued to tickle his belly with ease, as she smiled down at him with a teasing expression. "Does that tickle, Jax? Huh? Does it? What about right here? Are ticklish there? Or are ticklish right there? Where's your tickle spot, Jax?" The more Ragatha used that word, the more it embarrassed Jax. That, along with the ridiculous baby voice she was putting on, only made everything worse. "S-ST-STOHOHOHOHOP SAHAHAYING THAHAHAHAT!" Ragatha noticed the effect the word had in Jax, which only added to her amusement. "What? Tickle? How come? I just wanna know where you're most ticklish, Jax. And, you could just tell me so that I don't have to keep tickling you to find out." She continued to put on a teasing tone as she tickled and poked at Jax's belly, being more sporadic in order to get him all jumpy. Ragatha then decided to try something else. She turns to grab one of Jax's kicking feet, catching one of his ankles. She keeps a good hold on it as she uses her free hand to tickle Jax's foot. Jax actually yelped before falling into another fit of laughter. He pounded his fist against the bed while his other hand rested on his forehead. He tried to pull his foot free but Ragatha was, surprisingly, strong and kept a good grip on his ankle. "EEHEHEHAHAHA! RAHAHAHAHGS! IHIHI SWEHEHEAR I'M GOHOHONNA GET YOU FOHOR THIHIHIS!" Ragatha paid no mind to Jax's threat and just continued to tickle away at his foot. Now it just seemed like she was having way too much fun. "You can go right ahead, Jax. That'll only give me another reason to tickle you."
Jax was struggling to even find some way to cope with all of the tickling. It was to the point where he was tugging at one of his ears, while still laughing and giggling up a storm. Seeing this actually gave Ragatha an idea. She perked up before she suddenly stopped her tickling, releasing Jax's foot. Jax let out a breath of relief as he took this chance to try and catch his breath, thinking that Ragatha had finally decided to stop. He let himself relax as he laid there, panting and breathing heavily.
That is until he suddenly felt Ragatha grab one of his ears. Jax's eyes went wide and before he knew it, he was squealing and cackling as Ragatha began to, relentlessly, tickle his ear. "AAAEEHHEHEHAHAHA! NO-HEHEHEHAHAHAHA! RAHAHAHAGS STOHOHOHOP!", Jax cackled as he wiggled and kicked around, trying to pull away from Ragatha. Ragatha smiled, victoriously, as she continued to tickle his ear. There's the reaction she was looking for. "Ah! So, it's your ears, huh? That's good to know." She smirked as she tickled away at his ear, giggling as she watched Jax practically lose his mind. It was actually pretty endearing to see him like this. Laughing and giggling like crazy. Part of her wanted to call it...cute. Jax, meanwhile, was trying, so desperately, to get away. He felt like if Ragatha kept this up, he was probably gonna abstract. "RAHAHAHAHGS, YOU'RE KIHIHIHILLING MEHEHEHEE! HEHEHHEHEHAHAHA! STOHOP ALREADHYHYHYHY!"
Ragatha hummed as she thought about it, all while still tickling Jax's ear. "Hmmm. Well, okay. But! Only if you start being nice, for once. Say maybe...a whole week of no pranks." Jax groaned through his laughter. If it weren't for the unbearable tickling he was going through, he would've just rolled his eyes at her. But, right now, he'd agree to anything if it meant finally be granted some mercy. "HAHAAHAHAHAFFFIHIHINE! FINE, WHAHATEHEVEHEHEHER! JUHUST STOP ALREHEHEHEADY!"
Ragatha smirked as she finally let him go. Jax fell limp on the bed as he, once again, tried to catch his breath. He heaved as he rubbed the ghost tickles out of his ear. All that tickling left him sluggish and exhausted. But, he still managed to shoot Ragatha an annoyed glare. "Now who's the bully, here? That was...totally uncalled for, dollface." Ragatha stood up as she folded her arms, looking down at Jax with a smug expression. "Well, I think you, definitely, deserved that, Jax." Jax sighed as he, just barely, managed to sit up in bed. He was still trying to catch his breath, but he was slowly calming down from that relentless tickle attack. "Well, listen. I don't need everyone else finding out that I'm...y'know. So, just keep this between us, okay?" Ragatha smiled as she switched into her, usual, friendly tone. "Of course, Jax. But, I'm holding you to our deal, okay? No more pranks for a week. Otherwise, I might not keep your secret so safe." Jax huffed as he rolled his eyes, already regretting this "deal" he made. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever." Of course, he was probably gonna go back to messing with everyone, anyways.
Would he get tickled again, for it? Most likely. Would everyone else learn about his secret? Probably. Would it all be worth it, however? Absolutely.
#the amazing digital circus tickles#ler!Ragatha#lee!Jax#tickle fic#tickle fluff#this one took long im sorry
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Fatherly Love
Summary: Zeff isn't used to dealing with kids, especially not one like Sanji.
Word Count: 5,630
Warning: Mild spoilers for Sanji and Zeff's backstory (The Baratie Arc)
There is nowhere near enough content for Sanji and Zeff, and I had to do something about. I've only seen the live action and started reading the manga (hopefully it isn't too ooc 😅), but I'm already unreasonably attached to these two. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! 💙
Zeff never saw it as anything complicated. When they finally did get off that godforsaken rock, Sanji had nowhere to go. And, well, he'd already given up a leg for the boy; he didn't see why he shouldn't give up piracy as well.
So they started over. Neither of them were ready to give up the sea, not until they found the All Blue, and Zeff always enjoyed sharing a meal. So they opened Baratie.
Maybe it wasn't the best place for a kid to grow up, on a ship full of angry brutes, but the little eggplant got on well enough with the crew—Zeff made sure of that—and he seemed content enough. At least, better than he had been after their rescue. It wasn't perfect, but it wasn't horrible, either.
But there were still moments that shattered their illusion of peace, like right now. Sighing, Zeff pulled off his sheets, slowly sitting up and slipping his legs off the bed, taking a moment to steady himself. It wasn't as easy as it'd been in his younger years. He didn't think he'd ever get used to the wooden leg, or the little eggplant's muffled cries that kept him up almost every night.
It was odd, considering what a deep sleeper Zeff had been when he was younger, but it was almost as if he had a sixth sense for when Sanji needed him; when he'd wake up, shivering and sobbing over his latest nightmare, Zeff woke up as well, lumbering over to his room to provide what little comfort he could for a boy who'd been through far too much.
Knocking lightly, he waited for Sanji's muffled consent before entering and closing the door softly behind him. He didn't know why he'd bothered giving Sanji his own room when Zeff spent the night there more often than not. Something about a growing boy needing his privacy; how simple he thought it'd be.
"Just me," Zeff said, as if they both weren't already used to this routine. It still made something stir uncomfortably in his chest every time, seeing Sanji's small figure curled up in his bed, blankets huddled around him like a faulty shield, head tucked into his chest to hide his tear-stained face, though Zeff still saw the way his shoulders trembled and heard the pained, hiccuping gasps Sanji tried to hide.
Zeff didn't say anything else. There was no reason to bombard the boy with pointless questions, especially when it only seemed to send him slipping further into a panic.
He never knew what he was supposed to do in situations like this. He liked to think his presence helped; after all, he was the only who'd been there with Sanji, though Zeff thought his issues began with something long before the shipwreck, and Sanji never stopped letting him in. But he'd never quite been a smooth talker, save for with women, and always found himself tongue-tied in situations like these. Zeff wasn't one for emotions, and Sanji was perhaps the most emotional boy he'd ever known.
There wasn't much to do besides perch on his bed, sitting as far away from Sanji as possible to give him space, and frown, trying to act as if his heart wasn't ripping in two at each muffled cry.
It must have been an especially bad night. Zeff realized that as his cries slowly quieted and his small, trembling frame steadily inched closer. Finally, Sanji's knee, barely a fraction of the size, touched his own. He was tense, more than before, and skittish, as if any wrong move from Zeff could send him running. It probably would. So Zeff did nothing, allowing Sanji his own time to decide.
They'd never been affectionate with each other. Zeff had never been affectionate with anyone, really, except for in the brief way that sailors met with women, something as intimate as these moments with Sanji but in an entirely different way.
Zeff had only ever used his body for that and fighting, which only made this harder. It wasn't like the other times Samji had reached out for him, right after the rock, or even in the midst of it, when he threw himself at Zeff in a moment of reckless grief, while Zeff wrapped his arms around him, trying to offer comfort in a way he didn't know how.
This was different. Slower. Intentional. Calculated, even.
It wasn't a helpless boy blindly reaching out to soothe the ache in his heart, but it was a helpless boy reaching out to him.
Sanji wanted him.
Zeff waited. Sanji continued to creep closer until he leaned into Zeff's side, and finally, slowly, gently, slower and gentler than he ever thought he could be, Zeff wrapped his arm around him, pulling Sanji into a hug.
Sanji buried his face in his chest, his own clumsy arms wrapping around Zeff, clutching handfuls of his shirt as if he was afraid to let go, afraid this would end.
"You're alright now," he said, voice gruffer, and a bit more emotional, than he intended. He lifted one hand, stroking his hair, the other rubbing his back, trying to remember what soothed him all those long years ago when he was a boy. "That's over. You're alright."
Sanji held onto him all night, crying until he finally slipped back into sleep, and Zeff stayed there, awake and cursing the growing ache in his back, until it was time for morning prep, when he shook Sanji awake, squeezing his shoulder one last time before leaving him to get ready for the day.
-
Neither of them spoke about what happened.
They barely spoke at all, save for a mini-screaming match when Zeff tried to drown Sanji's dish in oregano before it was sent out to his patrons.
It was a busy day, but at least they had had a functioning waitstaff for once—thank god for small mercies. Zeff didn't have the time to babysit Sanji, not anymore than usual, when he had to try and keep the rest of his rowdy crew in line, though he figured the reason at least half of their customers were there was in hopes of seeing the rumored fighting pirates.
There was hardly even a moment for him to sit down, rest his leg and back, and get some shut eye, though the sips of alcohol he savored between the lunch and dinner rushes helped.
But at the end of the day, he was more drunk on exhaustion than anything else, practically stumbling over his feet as he stalked through the kitchen, ensuring every surface and every dish was up to his standards. On days like these, the last day before they hauled up their anchor and moved on, his men tended to get lazy, a problem he could never solve no matter how many times he yelled at them. Except for one, who shared his dutiful dedication to maintaining a clean kitchen.
"Shouldn't you be heading off?" Zeff asked, glancing at Sanji as he silently swept the floors. "A growing boy needs his rest."
"I could say the same. Doesn't a shitty old man need his beauty sleep?"
He grunted. They both knew why he was so tired, and they both knew why Sanji didn't want to go to sleep, but they both said nothing. Didn't matter much tonight, anyway. They could both sleep in, supposing Sanji managed to stay asleep for once. Zeff put a kettle on the stove. Tea usually helped Sanji get through the night.
"Come here, kid," he called, after the tea was brewed. Sanji always preferred it sweeter, so he added a dollop of sugar and spoonful of honey, while he added something a little stronger to his.
Zeff kicked a stool in his direction, and he sat down, gratefully taking the mug that came along with it and enjoying a long sip.
"Not as shit as usual," he said, which was about as good a compliment as any, coming from him.
Leaning against the counter next to him, Zeff took a much needed drink of his own, glaring down at him. "You don't need to help me down here every night. Not that you're much help."
"'Not much help'? I'm the only reason people come to this shithole!"
"Mm. Are you then?" He didn't have the energy for this now. Damn kid.
"I'm the only half-decent chef you have!"
Zeff would never understand where his arrogance came from, not that it was entirely unwarranted. He had made Sanji his sous-chef for a reason, and it wasn't just his fondness for him.
"And who's the one that taught how to make those fancy little dishes, eggplant?"
"It doesn't matter when you drown everything in oregano."
"It's a delicacy!"
"It's for savages!" He slammed his empty mug on the counter, his one visible eye glaring daggers at Zeff, who had to resist the urge to laugh. It'd be a good few years before Sanji got anywhere close to intimidating him.
"You're too young. Palate hasn't developed yet," he waved him off, collecting his glass to wash it in the sink. No need making the kid do it, not when he was practically about to fall off his stool.
"No, you're too old. Can't taste shit anymore."
Zeff rolled his eyes. He didn't know why he always started a fight. Just his attitude, he supposed. He had to take in a kid with the worst personality imaginable. And it didn't help that he was eerily similar to how Zeff had been at that age.
"I can still see well enough, and you're done for the night."
Sanji stumbled to his feet, knowing he was right but not wanting to agree with him. "You look worse than I do."
"Mhm. Then let's both get to bed," he said, because Sanji was right too, and he couldn't bother to keep up with any more banter.
Nudging him in the back, Zeff wasn't prepared for Sanji's violent flinch that almost sent him toppling over. He resisted his instinct to reach out and steady him, figuring that would only make things worse. Instead, Sanji's fingers dug into the countertop, clutching it so hard his knuckles paled, and he turned towards Zeff, eyeing him wearily.
They stared at each other for a moment, silent, before Zeff sighed.
"Go on. Up to bed."
Sanji only nodded and trudged along. Zeff supposed they hadn't made as much progress as he thought. He'd have to be more careful next time.
-
Zeff always preferred days when Baratie was sailing. As much as he enjoyed the regular hustle and bustle, serving whatever customers had washed up that day, he enjoyed these quiet moments more.
It was good, standing on deck and watching the ship bob in the water, breathing in the sea breeze that was never the same when they were stagnant. He craved the movement, the sailing. And the quiet. Which made him feel like the old man Sanji always insisted he was. As if he was coaxing into retirement and savoring easy days on the sea.
But there was never anything easy on Baratie.
After he'd assembled his men to yell at them about their lazy behavior yesterday and lack of respect, they were dismissed and shuffled out of the kitchen, grumbling among each other but knowing better than to stand up to Zeff.
They'd be really punished later, but a light scalding was enough for now. Especially when he had other plans.
Sanji crept into the kitchen, eagerly buzzing around with a frantic energy Zeff rarely saw. That was another good thing about it. On days like these, Sanji was more excited than Zeff had ever seen him.
It was like there was finally life in the kid. His cheeks flushed, eyes bright, and joy palpable. He couldn't shut up either. The whole time he was rambling, trying to spew out his mess of ideas all at once that had been building up in his head since the last time they did this.
It really wasn't anything that special, and it always led to more than one argument between them, but Sanji liked to offer his input to these menu changes, even when most of his ideas consisted of trite, over-inspired pieces of shit. Though Sanji felt the same way about most of Zeff's dishes.
After gathering up all of his ingredients and managing to form his ramblings into something coherent, Sanji prepared his sample dishes with Zeff watching closely, correcting his mistakes or suggesting alternate techniques. Sanji was always surprisingly receptive to his advice, though he was always an enthusiastic student, and Zeff thought he preferred it when they were alone like this. Even if he still protested oregano coming anywhere near his food. Damn rebellious kid.
It took the entire day and only two fights that escalated so far Zeff worried Sanji would grab the knife on the cutting board and stab him, which was better than usual. They'd sampled enough dishes that neither of them were hungry, nor the rest of the crew, not when they called in a member or two for a third opinion, or a witness when their fights got especially heated.
The kitchen was a mess, but it wasn't their problem. Zeff wanted to head in early, and his crew had to be punished for their mess yesterday, so making them deal with disaster was only fair. With all of them working together, it wouldn't take too long anyway, unless they got into a fight—no, until they got into a fight, forcing Zeff to straighten them out again.
But until then, he pulled Sanji with him above deck to relax for a change.
The sun was already beginning to set; the sky fading into a pinkish-reddish color as Zeff sat down to watch it. Now he really was acting like an old man. Maybe he should start thinking about retirement.
He glanced at Sanji, but he seemed to be enjoying himself as well, even with something as simple as this. It seemed they both savored these little, simple moments.
Now would be a good time to continue their other training. Zeff had been teaching the boy to fight, only simple moves so far, though their progress was slowed by Zeff's own efforts to adjust to his new leg. But it was late, and they were both tired, even if yesterday was one of Sanji's better nights. He'd put it off for another day.
Zeff was so absorbed by his thoughts that he almost didn't register the movement in the corner of his eye. Not until Sanji was noticeably closer to him.
It was different this time. Maybe it was because of his excitable attitude today, or maybe he was starting to feel just a bit more at ease around him, but Sanji, in one quick, casual motion, pressed into Zeff's side, leaning against him.
His body was stiff, no matter how nonchalant he tried to act, and when Zeff looked at him closely enough, he could see the slight shake in his hands. It took a few minutes before Sanji began to relax, his tense muscles easing into the touch, and in another act of courage, he leaned his head against Zeff's shoulder.
He was warm. That was the first thing Zeff noticed. He wasn't used to being touched like this. Besides Sanji's fits after his nightmares and consoling his men who managed to survive the battle but not much afterwards, he hadn't been this close to someone since he was a child. Even then, no one ever reached out to him, curling up beside him the way Sanji did.
It was oddly comfortable, and Zeff found himself enjoying the affection more than he should. This was something he never could've imagined, not at his age.
While he never disliked children, he'd never been particularly fond of them either. And as much as he respected women, he never found one that interested him; no men either, so he never imagined settling down with someone, starting a family, not when his first love was cooking. But here he was, with Sanji. And he couldn't deny his growing affection for the boy, even if he was as rude and shitty as most of the grown men Zeff knew and more traumatized and disturbed than any child should be. He couldn't be sure—it was something he'd never experienced before—but Zeff thought his affection must have been something like that a father felt for his child.
It was a troubling thought that was becoming more persistent, and he had no clue if Sanji felt the same, but that was a problem for another time.
Now, it didn't matter. He simply shifted, leaning his own head against Sanji's to reciprocate the touch and imagined the nervous smile on the kid's face that he must've been fighting so hard to hide.
-
Maybe this had gone too far, Zeff realized, far, far too late to do anything about it.
It started simple enough.
Sanji had always been a fidgety kid, a fact that Zeff and practically anyone who knew him more than an hour could realize. He was never still, always moving, always squirming. And clumsy, too. He was prone to tripping over his own feet, something that their training had made marginally better so far, but Zeff still held onto the hope that he'd fall out of it with age when the rest of his body grew into his long legs.
Zeff didn't mind; truly, he found it more entertaining than anything else to see the boy bounce around the kitchen. It never interfered with his work, Sanji was far too professional for that, but there were times when Sanji's body moved and fidgeted around so quickly Zeff swore his limbs would fly off, and Sanji swore that he'd die of boredom if something didn't change.
So Zeff came up with a solution. A rather practical one, he liked to think. Instead of twiddling with his fingers or tugging at the strings of his apron or furiously flapping his hands, Zeff, like a practical seaman, taught him how to tie knots. Figured it'd pay off, considering how much of his life the boy spent on a ship.
He'd bring him up to the deck, show him the ropes and give a brief explanation, then show him how to tie every knot just right and send him off with a smaller scrap to practice.
It seemed to help, though they never talked about such things. Sanji simply practiced his knots, asking Zeff when he wasn't sure if he'd gotten it right, and he'd whip it out and practice anytime he got bored, during lulls between the dinner and lunch rush or at night, in bed, when he was trying to fall asleep.
Zeff didn't know how it ended up like this. He'd noticed Sanji's habit, how he'd begun to unconsciously twist strands into his complicated knots, like his apron or the loose fibers on his cheap blanket. It'd escalated fast.
Sanji must've known it would be another bad night, because he didn't bother going to his own room, instead silently teetering after Zeff to stay with him. He didn't like to be alone on bad nights.
There hadn't even been any sign of it, any indication; he simply leveled a heavy stare at Zeff and not asked, ordered him.
"Stay still. I need to try something."
"What are you planning?" He asked warily, recognizing that glint in Sanji's eye that was only there when he got up to mischief, an occasion that was becoming less and less rare.
"Quiet. I need to focus."
Then Sanji was sitting cross-legged in front of him as Zeff sat, back pressed against the headboard. He had to lean down an uncomfortable amount for Sanji to, much to his horror, reach his mustache as he began working on whatever convoluted idea he had.
Zeff wasn't sure what he was doing, as his eyes were firmly closed—and Sanji began yelling at him anytime he so much as tried to peak them open—but it seemed as if Sanji was styling his hair, hands working with a surprising gentleness and expected hurriedness, though it seemed as if his rush ruined his work, judging his heaving sigh every few minutes as he straightened out Zeff's mustache to start over. Always a perfectionist.
It was annoying, like Sanji always was, but Zeff found he didn't mind the intrusion as much as he thought he should. Not that or the tedious ache once again spreading through his back or the feeling of pins-and-needles in his legs that had fallen asleep under Sanji's weight, who sat precariously on top of them.
Perhaps he couldn't complain because he knew what Sanji had been like mere weeks and months before, and that boy never would've afforded Zeff with this casual closeness, one that made an unsettling happiness grow in him, because he knew that they were getting somewhere, that this makeshift ship was becoming closer and closer to the little eggplant's home, and that did, ashamedly, make Zeff happy.
"Okay, I'm done," Sanji finally announced, and Zeff let out a sigh, of relief or disappointment he wasn't sure.
"On with it then," he opened his eyes, this time without any urgent protest from Sanji, and shifted his good leg with a smile too fond for his liking. "Up so I can look."
Something resembling a scowl appeared on Sanji's face, but it was gone just as quickly as he scrambled off of him, rolling onto the side of the bed. Zeff took his time, ignoring Sanji's protests, to stand up, letting feeling come back into his limbs as he stretched before trudging over to his drawers, accompanied with a small mirror hanging above it.
It was about what he'd expected. Zeff's mustache was styled into two somewhat unkempt braids, tied up with his usual blue ribbons. It wasn't half bad, not for the eggplant's first try, and Zeff didn't recall teaching him any braids. He wondered where he'd learned how to do that, but now wasn't the time for questions.
"Right. We done here?"
Sanji's cheeks puffed out slightly, tinged red as his face morphed into a pout. He always did wear his emotions on his sleeve, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Reluctantly, he nodded and stood from the bed.
Zeff turned out the lamp, settling back down into his bed and sparing a glance at Sanji. "You layin' down or not?"
There was a moment of awkward shuffling, Sanji's head darting back and forth between Zeff's bed and the door, looking as if he wished he had that rope on him to give his body something to do and soothe his mind.
After an uncomfortable amount of time passed, Sanji perched himself at the edge of the bed, slowly laying down, as if he was scared Zeff would change his mind and yell at him to scram.
He didn't. He had an extra blanket and pillow, so he didn't mind at all, though if he had to, he knew he would've given his own to Sanji to make him comfortable—the kid hardly got enough sleep as it was.
"Night," he grunted, then added, far too impulsively, "Didn't do half bad with the hair."
For a moment, he thought he imagined Sanji's muffled sounds of joy, but then he only laughed quietly to himself, thinking about all the trouble this dumb kid brought with him.
Zeff was going soft, and he couldn't bring himself to care.
-
Morning was quiet. Zeff woke up first, squinting at his window, watching the faint rays of light trickle in.
It was early, but he wasn't ready to go back to sleep. Instead, he carefully shifted in the bed, turning on his side to face Sanji. He was still sleeping, lying curled up on his stomach. Zeff didn't realize how much he moved in his sleep, not until Sanji woke him up more than once in the night with a flying limb.
He'd seen him sleeping before. After Sanji had crossed to his side of the rock and discovered Zeff's secret, there was less distance between them. Less reason to hide. And Sanji seemed to, for whatever reason, like the company of bitter old men, apparently as much as Zeff like the company of snarky young kids. But there were some nights when Sanji fell asleep there, with Zeff. He'd moved around too then, violently, thrashing so much Zeff feared he'd fall right into the ocean. He was prone to nightmares then too, but he didn't have any more tears to cry by then, just hiccuping gasps that sounded so painful coming from his dry, aching throat.
He wasn't having a nightmare now. His face was relaxed, not curled up in an aching knot of dread like it usually was. His chest rose and fell with calm, steady breaths. Zeff couldn't see it clearly, not in the dim light, but he heard it, and the noise was a comfort.
Another impulse. That's what Zeff wanted to blame it on. Say that his arm had a mind of its own; that he acted without thinking. He didn't know if that was better or worse than the truth.
But he did know what he was doing. And he wanted to. That was the reason.
That was the reason he reached his hand out, with a touch lighter and gentler than he ever thought he was capable of, combing through Sanji's hair to fix the disheveled mess.
It was soft and void of any obnoxious clumps, both traits he attributed to Sanji's fixation with his appearance. Just had to look good for the ladies, apparently. Not that any took interest in him. The little eggplant had about as much charm as one.
Hair straightened, his hand trailed further down, rubbing gentle, soothing circles into the back of his neck. It was something he normally only did after a nightmare, when Sanji cried and clung to him, but it seemed appropriate now too. He thought it was good for Sanji. He always slept better when Zeff held him.
Except now. Sanji twitched, and Zeff worried he'd wake him, so he lightened his touch, fingers barely grazing the skin, and that's when he heard it.
A giggle.
The noise was muffled by the pillows, but it was unmistakable in the quiet of his room. Something high-pitched and boyish and utterly unexpected.
Zeff's hand stilled, staring intently at Sanji. His body was still and breathing steady. He'd heard Sanji talk before in his sleep, but laugh? That seemed odd. Unless it was something else.
Curiously, he continued his light movement, holding back a laugh of his own when he noticed Sanji squirm, twisting back and forth but trying so hard to hide it.
So he was awake. And Zeff didn't see why he shouldn't have his fun.
He changed tactics, switching to scratching at Sanji's neck, touch still light, using just his blunt nails.
There was another noise; this one was more like a muffled whine, low in his throat and barely contained. One of his arms shifted, trying for a subtly he had never been gifted with, and pushed the pillow further into his face, hiding his wide smile.
How stupid did Sanji think he was? He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know after this. And if Zeff said something, he knew it'd ruin the moment. He didn't want to.
He didn't, so he continued tickling the boy who he'd become uncomfortably fond of.
His hand drifted, grazing across the side of his neck in a way that made Sanji's shoulders scrunch up. He couldn't contain himself anymore, and soft giggles poured out of him. The kid was oddly cute like this, and that fond feeling he had for Sanji only grew.
Zeff was careful. They'd never done anything like this—he doubted Sanji'd ever even been tickled before—and they were still in a somewhat precarious position surrounding the kid's tolerance for any touch at all. He wasn't one to be playful, but Zeff figured this was the closest he'd ever get as he moved to new spots.
Sanji chortled when he scratched under his chin, and seeming to have given up the act of pretending to be asleep, kicked his legs when Zeff's fingers prodded at his ears. The strongest reaction came when he scribbled at his back—Zeff hadn't even known backs could be ticklish—making an alarmed high-pitched sound that Zeff could only call a squeal, grip around the pillow tightening, trying to hide his embarrassment or laugh or something, Zeff figured.
After a few more moments, Zeff stopped, pulling his hand away and waiting for Sanji to collect himself. It took a long time for his laughter to calm down, but Zeff only watched, unable to help his own amused smile.
Finally, Sanji removed his face from the pillow, looking up at Zeff. His face was completely flushed, and he had a large, dopey smile on his face that Zeff had only ever seen when he was talking to a girl. Dumb kid.
"Um…" Sanji brought the pillow to his chest, hugging it tightly and partially obscuring his face. "What was that?"
"Tickling. Ever happened to you before?"
He shook his head, eyes flitting away from Zeff with a sad look. He was quiet, seemingly lost in thought, and Zeff watched him, waiting for Sanji to gather himself.
It took a few minutes before he dropped the pillow, propping himself up. There was still a trace of sadness, but there was something else, something Zeff couldn't quite place.
His eyes were big and droopy, fatigue weighing down his lashes and a smile, albeit faint, dragged across his lips. In the quiet of these late nights and early mornings, there was something different about Sanji, more tender. Like the darkness of the sky cloaked them in a veil of security, wrapping around his shoulders and tucking him in with the same comfort of a loving parent.
Leaning closer, a yawn breezing past his lips, Sanji shifted further towards Zeff, mumbling, "'t's nice."
"Guess so," he grunted and, seeing the expectant look on his face, reached back out, curling his fingers into Sanji's side until he burst into another fit of giggles.
Zeff supposed it was quite nice.
-
Sanji, by some miracle, had actually managed to fall back asleep after crying for mercy.
Zeff wasn't tired, but he stayed, figuring Sanji wouldn't like waking up alone, and there wasn't much work to be done today anyway; he could let him sleep in. He grabbed a book at random from his shelf, biding the time by staring absentmindedly at the pages, his attention always somehow drifting back to Sanji. It was almost annoying, the grip that the kid had on him.
When he did wake up, scolding Zeff for letting them stay in that late and wasting so much of the day as if Sanji was actually the adult. It was stupidly endearing.
Zeff, like always, brushed away his concerns. "Then stop complaining and help me get ready."
"Help?" Sanji asked, indignant, and Zeff sorrowfully remembered what an attitude he had on him. "What do you need now, old man? A diaper change?"
Sighing, he only gestured to his face, watching the confusion spread across Sanji's face and sighing again.
"The braids," he huffed, untying the ribbons. "They need to be redone."
Sometime during the night, or perhaps during his horseplay with Sanji, the hair had become wildly unruly, strands unwinding and sticking out at odd angles.
Sanji stared at him for a long moment like he was stupid. Then asked, in an oddly anxious voice, "What?"
"You heard me. Get on with it."
He couldn't bite back his smile. His whole face lit up, and no matter how hard he always tried to hide it, Sanji still always wore his heart on his sleeve, and his joy was infectious. Shuffling closer, he carefully reworked Zeff's mustache, hair now slightly curled, into a neat braid, redoing them both a few times until he was satisfied with his work, staring at Zeff proudly.
It was better than the ones yesterday; Zeff had to give him credit for that.
"Good work, little eggplant," he said, staring at himself in the mirror. "Now you go get ready. It's late."
Sanji, ever the dutiful worker, hurried out, but Zeff caught the blinding smile on his face before he left.
It was worth the odd stares he got from the rest of his crew, and none of them had the courage to say anything after Zeff stared down the first person who'd so much as uttered a word about it.
Unless it was a compliment, which he tolerated in silence only because it brought that bright smile back to Sanji's face, and the kid deserved the praise.
The day was slow and calmer than Baratie had any right to be.
There was an odd lightness in Sanji; Zeff didn't know if it was because of him, but he was glad.
And he was even happier when it seemed to persist into the next day and the next.
They still bickered, of course—the kid—his kid—just had to bitch about every little thing. They spent long days cooking together, sweating and struggling in their somehow always understaffed restaurant. They trained together on those off days, splitting time between cooking and fighting. And in those early mornings, late nights, and all the time in between, they regarded each other with a new softness, with the playful and affectionate touches Sanji had become accustomed to, the ones he craved.
And Zeff, forever worn out by the rude, annoying kid he'd ended up with, always indulged him, his little eggplant.
#sorry for disappearing again but school and college apps were kicking my ass#hopefully i can be more consistent now lol#my writing#zeff#red leg zeff#sanji#black leg sanji#sanji and zeff#vinsmoke sanji#one piece#opla tickle#one piece tickle#op tickle#op#opla#one piece live action#tickling#tickle fic#lee!sanji#ticklish!sanji#ler!zeff
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I was surprised there wasn't more fics like this for the fandom. Macho boys need to be soft sometimes....
Zoro x Sanji
..................................
Sanji’s shoes click rhythmically off the cobblestone pavement as he stalks towards the ship. His eyes watch the cracks in the ground and the uneven bumps in the stones until they fall away to crooked lines etched into the wood of the dock.
He doesn’t lift his head as seagulls circle him, their sharp eyes catching the few bags Sanji has dangling from his wrists. He doesn’t take in the sight of sailors throwing barrels onto ships or jostling past him in a hurry to grab more rope, and food and booze from the carts that sit on the edge of the ships.
He doesn’t flinch when the seaside breeze cuts through his hair, plastering it across the wrong side of his face as he climbs onto the Merry. Not even the splash of sea water from below, that soils the cuffs of his pants, can rip him from the haze of his foul mood.
The first time Sanji glances up from the floor, is to watch behind him as Zoro reaches the bottom of the rope ladder. He takes a brief hiatus from his gloom to watch smugly as Zoro struggles to use only his legs to get aboard.
One of his arms is coiled around a barrel of beer, the other is weighed down by as many shopping bags as Sanji could throw at him, topped with a box he’s balancing between his bicep and shoulder that contains large heavy pieces of meat.
The swordman seems to sense he’s being watched because he peaks a look up at Sanji, his eye’s just visible under his bandana.
“You going to help me, Curly?”
Sanji tsks loudly, his brief smile at the other’s struggling twisting into a frown again as he remembers just how pissed off he is.
“Screw you, Mosshead.”
The clack of Sanji’s dress shoes echo across the deck of the ship as he storms off towards the pantry, the door to the kitchen banging loudly behind him as it slams shut.
Zoro blinks slowly, shaking his head as he convinces himself not to think too hard about what has set the cook off. Knowing how temperamental he could be, it could be as simple as an eyelash grazed his eye, or maybe he had to buy a bruised fruit or something.
Zoro decides to ignore the temper tantrum and instead focuses on getting over the side of the ship and safely onto the deck. He kicks the door to the kitchen open, not feeling bad when it slams loudly against the cracking wooden wall. It’s not his fault someone had shut it when they knew his hands were full, and Zoro was not dropping any of stuff in his arms until he knew he’d never have to pick them up again.
“Oi, watch it moss for brains.” Sanji snarls, already halfway through unpacking one of the half full bags he’d decided not to throw at Zoro.
Zoro noisily drops everything from his left arm, the sacks opening and almost spilling their contents, while the box dents on one side. With both arms Zoro carefully drops his booze barrel onto the floor, the only thing he cared about getting safely back to the ship.
“What the hell, idiot. You better not have bruised anything.” Sanji seethes, storming forwards, his eyes not even on the products.
It was clear the cook wasn’t upset about the door, or the dropped goods. No, Zoro knew by now his rival was itching for a fight. Well, if that is the case, he’d give him one.
“What’s your problem, Ero-Cook? You don’t like how I handle them, then you carry them.”
Like expected, his blonde crewmate sucks in a breath before he easily spins his hips and launches a kick at the side of Zoro’s head. The hilt of a sword catches the edge of his ankle, stopping the impact by mere centimetres.
“Isn’t your job on this ship to be the pack mule?” Sanji hisses, leaning forward enough that Zoro can feel a flick of spit hit his chin. “Can you do anything right?”
The next few clashes between the pair are nasty. A pinch of hurt mixes with a wave of fury and frustration as Zoro matches the tempo of the other’s hits. They block, dodge and slam into one another, a litter of bruises and bumps being left in the wake of their moves as they throw insults back and forth.
It’s nothing new, nothing unusual between them, but it feels strange to Zoro. Sanji doesn’t feel like he’s letting off steam, not when one shoving kick almost breaks a rib, or when the next kick almost comes crashing down on his skull at practically full force, hard enough to crack bone. The cook clearly seems upset with him.
“What-” Zoro slams the hilt of his second blade into the side of Sanji’s knee, unbalancing him, “is your-” He steps further shoving into the cook and knocking him back onto his ass, the tip of Yubashiri pointing down at him “fucking problem?”
Sanji’s glare trails from the tip of the blade up to Zoro’s face before he growls back “You. You ruin everything.”
With that, Sanji uses a kick to knock the blade away before he pushes forward, barely lifting off the ground as he tackles Zoro at his knees, knocking him onto his back and briefly winding him.
He probably could have taken the hit, but he’s so surprised that he doesn’t even realise what the cook is doing until he feels two sharp knees digging into the inside of his elbows. His arms are pinned, stretched outwards with his swords as far from his opponent as possible, as Sanji sits heavily on his chest.
Zoro’s so startled by the approach that he goes to swing his head, to whip the sword in his mouth at the hot head, but before he can, Sanji has taken the sword away. For a moment, Zoro thinks he’ll join Sanji in feeling murderous, but some of his anger is quenched when he realises the cook doesn’t toss the blade away, but instead places it carefully above Zoro’s head, just out of reach of his mouth.
“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut at the market, could you?” Sanji pants, pushing as much weight into his knees so he can, watching Zoro flinch as they push through muscle and pinch at nerves.
“What are you talking about, shit-cook?” Zoro tries to move his arms, he knows he’s strong enough to lift Sanji’s scrawny legs off him, but for some reason, nothing happens.
“You just had to butt in about booze right as I was getting somewhere with that beautiful blonde-haired beauty. You had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.”
Sanji thinks back to the lady, all curves and soft lines and a small timid smile. The brief laugh she paid him for a weak joke was enough to make Sanji float. He’s sure he could have charmed an evening with her while they were stuck on this island, but big mean and green had to ruin it all, as usual.
“That’s what this is about? You striking out with yet another clueless chick?” Zoro continues to struggle, becoming perplexed that his strength seemed to have left him.
“Don’t call women demeaning shit like that.” Sanji snarls, only refraining from hitting the green bafoon when he notices the other looking worried at his arms twitching uselessly beneath Sanji’s hold.
“It’s not going to work, Mosshead. I’m leaning on a weak point in your arms.”
Zoro’s attention turns back to Sanji, his brows furrowed in thought as though he wasn’t sure to believe the blonde or not.
“Apologise, and I’ll move.” Sanji bargains, his temper subsiding as a feeling of victory settles in his chest.
“Eat shit.”
Sanji grins at the discomfort on Zoro’s face, the sweat breaking out across his forehead as he struggles to get himself back in a position of power. The blonde decides to lean his upper body back, a show of how long he is willing to wait for Zoro to cave. His hands fall lazily behind him as he goes to rest one of them on Zoro’s stomach.
The movement surprises the swordsman, the hand going unnoticed until he felt gentle fingertips dragging across his ribs, pushing at the taut skin. The lack of sight, mixed with an unusual place for Sanji to touch him is enough to cause Zoro to flinch, to let the smallest involuntary gasp through his lips as his breath hitches and his eyes widen in genuine surprise.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
Maybe he didn’t notice?
“Oho, what was that Marimo?” Sanji, having literally felt the hitch in breath beneath him, stares curiously at his hand, then looks back at Zoro’s face, the faintest dusting of a blush growing on his cheeks as he suddenly refuses to meet Sanji’s face.
The cook might have just taken the reaction as having hit a bruise, but the discomfort on Zoro’s face makes Sanji curious. So, he does it again.
This time his fingers brush relentlessly over the spot, the touch getting softer as he realises it elicits more of a reaction from the man beneath him. Sanji can’t help the grin that spreads out across his face as the pieces start to click together.
“Oi, Marimo.” Zoro glares a hole through Sanji as he meet’s his gaze, his blood boiling at the sight of the smug expression on the assholes face. “I didn’t know moss could be ticklish.”
Zoro tries to keep his face neutral as he opens his mouth to deny it, to tell Sanji he’s an idiot and to get the fuck off him before he skewers him, but before he can…Sanji squeezes his hip bone, his long fingers coiling into the exposed hollow of his hip.
He thought with all his hard work and training over the years that he could have held back his reaction, hardened his mind until he felt nothing. It doesn’t work. Not with Sanji’s weight holding him down, his arms and swords useless for once, his rival’s touch soft against his skin. This was new, this was terrifying, and this was something Zoro had never prepared for.
He lets out a bark of laughter, his face whipping to the side in embarrassment and panic as he tries to will the flush climbing up his neck away.
Sanji forgets to be angry, forgets he was ever upset, forgets completely about the blonde that started this whole scene. He can feel the echo of the laugh through Zoro’s chest, can feel the panicked breaths that follow against his thighs. His eyes are locked on Zoro’s watery smile, not used to seeing such a shy grin on the swordman’s face.
He squeezes again, Zoro’s eyes twisting shut as though not being able to see what was happening would be enough to make it go away. He loosens his grip slightly, scratching the area instead, his nails bluntly dragging across the cotton of Zoro’s shirt as a groan from his mouth turns to soft giggles.
Sanji is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breath. It’s like he’s afraid to. That he’ll make too much noise and miss a single sound coming from Zoro’s lips.
“Didn’t think a brute like you could giggle.” Sanji teases eventually, pausing his assault long enough to see if Zoro will answer him, if he is capable of speech.
Zoro is pretty sure he’s going to die. His chest is tight after less than a minute of this. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, his hip feels like it’s been electrocuted and now Sanji’s words are burning him. He can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his limbs will surely snap at any moment. When it does, it’s likely he’ll melt into the wood of the floor.
“What, no quip back?” Sanji is laughing now, joyfully too, not his usual cruel cackle that he uses to taunt Zoro mid-fight.
“Shu-huh-ut up!” Zoro gasps, trying to regain his composure.
He can’t remember the last time someone had pinned him like this, and certainly can’t remember a time when someone ever tickled him like this. He hadn’t even considered he was ticklish, not since he’d grown up.
“Aw Marimo, that’s not very nice.” Sanji’s eyes are practically shining as he leans back with both hands now on Zoro’s stomach, all ten fingers curling into the soft dip just below Zoro’s abs.
Zoro’s eye’s practically bug out of his head at the sensation. Any thought of shutting down his nervous system disappears as he lets out a stream of loud laughter, his legs curling and kicking out behind Sanji, his back arching off the ground, nearly hard enough to push Sanji off him. But the blonde was able to stay on top, his laughter joining Zoro’s.
“Oh, mosshead. I think I’ve found a way to indefinitely win our little fights now. Let’s hope no one outside the crew finds out about this, eh?”
Sanji’s words are too much, too condescending, and sweet and frustrating.
“I-Ihh- I’m go-ahah-gonna cut yo-oho-you’re fucking tongue ou-ouaha-out.” Zoro warns, deadly serious for once. His threat sounding ridiculous though as his voice cracks at the end, his laughter hitting a shriek as Sanji traces a spot just above his pant’s line.
Sanji hums, unimpressed. His hands disappear from Zoro’s stomach and for some reason that’s worse. Zoro’s gaze snaps from the door to the kitchen back to Sanji as he desperately tries to anticipate whatever the fuck the cook is going to do next.
He’s too slow though because he doesn’t feel the hands shoving under his exposed armpit’s until it’s too late. Not being able to drag his elbows into his sides is torture and his shrieking continues as his nerves tingle from his chest all the way to his fingertips.
“I don’t think the world’s greatest swordsman is the only title you’ll ever earn; clearly most ticklish swordsman is already yours.”
It’s the worst comment so far. Mainly because the cook has just fucking admitted he think’s Zoro can achieve his dream. The compliment is weird and warm enough to have butterflies fluttering in his gut while his lungs seize in his chest. His face is beetroot red at this point as Zoro starts to feel like he’ll never escape.
But just as he thinks this, Zoro registers his legs, which have been twisting and convulsing this whole time…Sanji is settled on his chest. Zoro’s legs are completely free. He mightn’t have trained his kicks like the cook, but he can still swing them as well as any other competent fighter.
As Sanji opens his mouth to tease him further, Zoro moves. He brings his knees up with as much force as he can in his position, and they hit Sanji square in his lower back. He knocks the cook forward just enough that one of his knee’s shifts from where they were pinching the nerve in Zoro’s arm and in a blink of an eye he goes from a laughing mess to grappling Sanji’s waist, rolling the pair over until Zoro finds himself nestled in between the blonde’s legs, his hips pining the other’s down.
Sanji is blinking owlishly up at the ceiling, disorientated, and confused at how he ended up in this position.
Zoro wastes no time in hopping up and falling back down on the other’s thighs, preventing any kicks or twists that might come his way. He gives Sanji a second, relishing in the horrified expression on his rivals faces before he digs both his large hands into every inch of skin he could on the blonde’s stomach and is rewarded by a loud wheeze followed by a stream of curses and laughter as Sanji loses it beneath him. His whole being wiggling and convulsing and suddenly Zoro doesn’t feel as embarrassed or weak.
He was going to kill the blonde, tickle him to an inch of his final breath and make him promise to never try this shit again, to beg and cry for Zoro to stop...
But the heated feeling dies in his mind as soon as he thinks it, because Sanji laughs like it means nothing. Like he doesn’t care that he’s being lit on fire by Zoro’s touch. He meets Zoro’s eye like they’re sharing a joke over a drink, like they’ve just surprised yet another unsuspecting crew, he looks at Zoro as if they’re friends…and it kills Zoro. Destroys him in a way he’s not expecting.
So, he stops, his fingers stilling when Sanji’s eyes gather tears and his face is as red as Zoro’s own.
He doesn’t tease him, doesn’t trust himself to say a single word when his mouth has dried, when it feels like cotton in sitting in the centre of his tongue.
“Tr-ucahaha-truce. Plea-ahah-se Marimo.”
Zoro stares at him until Sanji squirms uncomfortably at the silence. He watches the emotions swirling in Zoro’s eyes, his face it’s usual mask of secrecy. The idiot looks lost, like he’s stuck on something particularly complex.
Sanji hasn’t a clue what could be happening in the green idiot’s brain, so he doesn’t push him. Not when he’s still menacingly looming over him, ready to pounce.
Sanji handles him the way he always does when he needs Zoro to comply without needing him to actually agree with him.
“I’ll let you drink a bottle of the good booze if you let me up?”
Zoro grins then, the tension washing away as Sanji offer him something familiar, something safe.
He grunts as he stands, surprising them both when he offers Sanji a hand up.
He takes the hand, letting Zoro pull him to his feet, surprised when the other pulls him close, his breath tickling Sanji’s ear as he hisses “You tell anyone about this, and not even the world’s best sake will save you.”
Zoro pulls back then to glare as threateningly as he can at the cook. Sanji looks stricken, maybe a bit intimidated for a second before he bursts into laughter. Zoro pouts at the response, forgetting none of his intimating tricks work on the pervert.
Sanji gooses his side as he dances out of Zoro’s reach and towards the drinks stash, laughing as he replies over his shoulder.
“Next time I won’t forget to pin you properly, moss for brains.”
The threat sounds more like a promise, like Sanji is already planning his next attack. It makes Zoro uncomfortable, afraid, and slightly excited. The same mesh of emotions he always gets from fighting with Sanji.
Maybe, this would be another form of release for them. Another way to pass the time on the ship and let off some steam.
He tries not to dwell on the fact that a tickle fight was far less acceptable for a pair of terrifying warriors than genuine bruise inducing sparring.
Who could judge them out at sea? Who would learn of what they did on the grand line behind a closed kitchen door.
Zoro wanted to hear that laughter again, wanted to see that grin across the cook’s face…and maybe, he admits quietly in his brain as he takes the first gulp of his drink, he was looking forward to having the cook tease him like that again.
To beat him with a soft touch, rather than a short blunt one.
Zoro needed to drink the entire bottle placed in front of him before he lets his thoughts continue, before he reaches a conclusion, he’s been avoiding for months now.
He holds out his empty cup and receives a scoff in return as Sanji fills it again, the two of them clinking their next glasses together in a silent ‘cheers’.
They’ll figure it out, whatever this is.
They’re nakama after all.
#zosan#one piece#one piece zosan#roronoa zoro#vinsmoke sanji#zoro#sanji#tickle content#tickle fic#fanfic#zosan fanfic#zosan tickle#im sorry#i hope you like it#they'd definitely do this#macho boys can be soft#teasing#wrestling#pining#zosan fluff
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Pillow Fort Tickles
(Hi! This is my first tickle fic, so if it like sucks then my bad fellas. Anywho, enjoy!)
Ler: Kinger Lee: Pomni
Today’s adventure had been a disaster. Long story short, Caine had unleashed some absolutely horrific critter into the circus, leaving all of it’s occupants in quite a difficult situation. Ragatha, Gangle, and Jax were hurt, Pomni was shaken up, and Zooble had fucked off somewhere else. Kinger was (surprisingly) the only one left in even a slightly good mental state as he had hidden in his “fortress”.
After what seemed like a good hour or two (to Kinger atleast) after the adventure, he heard a light knock on the pillow that was placed where a door would be. Kinger moved it slightly out of the way and peeked his head out, only to be met with the eyes of Pomni.
“Oh! Pomni! How can I assist you?” He asked, slightly tilting his head to the side.
Pomni looked down, “I was just- uh- wondering if I could- umm..- come in.?” She pointed at the fort.
“Why of course!” Kinger slightly moved aside to make room for her to enter.
The fort was surprisingly spacious on the inside, with a corner dedicated to a few bug enclosures to another corner, visibly comfier than the rest, that Pomni could only assume was meant for resting. Eventually, Kinger’s voice snapped her out of her deep thought.
“Would you like to hear about my bug collection??”
Pomni nodded, watched him pull out a few bugs from seemingly nowhere and then begin his infodump. One thing that Pomni didn’t notice, however, was the bug slowly making it’s way to her side. Kinger, on the other hand, did notice and quickly scooped the bug up, accidentally grazing his hand over Pomni’s middle, making her squeak. He immediately paused and looked up at her.
“What was that??”
Pomni’s face was quickly turning a bright red.
“N-nothing!”
Kinger, didn’t believe a word of that. He repeated his action just to test it. Once again, Pomni squeaked.
“Don’t do that!” Pomni’s face grew redder with each passing second.
“Are you ticklish?”
Pomni didn’t respond. That was enough of an answer for Kinger. He put down his bugs and poked her a few times, making her choke down a giggle or two. She reached out to attempt to stop Kinger and grab his hands, which made Kinger simply push her hands out of the way and continue his attack.
After a few minutes, he decided to up his game. Going from pokes to soft tickles on her stomach. Pomni’s giggles finally started to pour out. She covered her mouth to muffle the noise. Kinger paused for a moment to move her hand before immediately going back to business.
“Don’t silence yourself! I want to hear your laughter!” He playfully scolded.
Eventually though, Pomni was able to regain her control and hold back her giggles.
In order to break the barrier, Kinger began to scribble at her ribs. This provoked a shriek from the poor, little jester.
“WAHAIT!! KIHIHINGERR!!! NAHAHAHAAOO!!”
The chess piece giggled at her as he continued his onslaught for a few seconds longer before letting up and taking his hands away.
“Are you okay??”
Pomni was a tired, giggly mess.
“Mhmmm!!..”
Kinger gently picked her up, took her over to the comfy corner that Pomni had seen earlier, and gently placed her down. She yawned and softly rubbed her eyes, clearly exhausted. Kinger sat down next to her and simply watched. After a few long minutes, she succumbed to her weariness and fell asleep. Kinger sighed.
“Queenie would’ve adored you.”
#sfw tickling community#tadc tickles#the amazing digital circus tickle#tickle fic#ler!kinger#lee!pomni#so sorry if this sucks!#first tk fic!
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~ 𝙶𝚘 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙, 𝚋𝚛𝚘! ~
💜🐢🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: @savemeafruitjuice💜🐢🧡
·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚕𝚎…𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝…𝚘𝚑 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕. 𝙷𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚎!!!˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙷𝚞𝚛𝚝/𝙲𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝
𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟹,𝟺𝟼𝟸
𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜
𝙻𝚎𝚛: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡
𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔 𝚘𝚗…𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕), 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚠 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛.
(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚃*𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝙳𝙽𝙸. 𝙱𝚞𝚑-𝚋𝚢𝚎. 𝙰𝚍𝚒𝚘𝚜. 𝚂𝚊𝚢𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚊. 𝙵𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕…)
𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚐𝚜𝚜𝚜𝚜: @tiggleebug @what-youd-expect @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @titters-and-tingles
@odder-outlet @itzsana-kiddingmenow @kanene-yaaay @turtletimewriting @mysteriouslee
𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐…𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚕𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 😖. 𝚂𝚘, 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜𝚗'𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙𝚕𝚣 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 💞✨‼️
𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚂𝙿𝙾𝙸𝙻𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝚃𝙼𝙽𝚃 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚂𝟸 𝙸𝙵 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙷𝙰𝚅𝙴𝙽’𝚃 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷𝙴𝙳 𝙸𝚃‼️‼️‼️
𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜/𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜/𝚓𝚘𝚔𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐.
·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝚆𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢, 𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
It was currently 2:00 in the morning. And the only things keeping Donatello Hamato alive at the moment were cans of Red Bull, Dr. Pepper and a slice of pizza. And by ‘slice’, he means the entire box.
Which…the more and more Donnie thought about it, that was a hell of a combination to consume for the rest of the night. Also super duper concerning. But it kept him 101% awake, so he couldn’t really complain all that much.
But why was the young scientist staying up so late you may ask? The second youngest was currently working on the de-mutagen mutagen to un-mutagize Mr. O’Neil (try saying that 10 times fast). The tallest turtle has been engrossed in the project for weeks; his eyes have been stuck to his computer as if someone glued them there.
But…why would Mr. O’Neil need ‘de-mutagen mutagen?’ Well…you, my friend, ask the good questions at the wrong time. You see, Donatello and his brothers kinda…maybe…accidentally…spilled mutagen on April’s Dad…
Accidentally! Accidentally. It wasn’t really as bad as it sounded. I mean, how would you react if you saw your Dad turn into a mutant and start flying all over New York? Pretty cool, right?
…Alright. Maybe it was as bad as it sounded.
Turning April’s Dad into a bat…creature-like…thing wasn’t a part of the plan in all honesty. Which was why the tallest turtle of the four was so stubborn on getting this freaking blob of green slime disgustingness finished.
I mean…it was him and his brother’s fault that the scientist got mutated in the first place. And as well as Donnie knows, that’s April’s only family she has as of right now. And that just makes this whole mutation situation (<- hey that rhymes) even worse.
Donnie knows all too well what it’s like for a family member to go missing out of his control. I mean, have you met him? Or literally anyone in his household? It wasn’t out of the ordinary that they would (or could) get kidnapped, captured, or held hostage from time to time.
I mean, the sky’s blue. The grass is green. They get taken from away each other on a daily basis. Duh.
…Anyways; steering away from that sad but true fact, Donnie’s family was, well, his family at the end of the day. His comfort.
And so to just…take that comfort outlet April once had and not do anything about it seemed…inhuman.
I mean, he wasn’t human…not human in the slightest, really. But you get his point.
Huh. And…speaking of family, if Leo was in the second youngest’s room right now, the young leader would’ve said some statements along the lines of: ‘Donnie! Sit up! Your backs built like a shrimp!’ or ‘Don! Stop typing and sit up straight before your back looks like a crooked tree!’
And in all honesty? He should probably fix his posture. But Leo reminding him every millisecond of the day makes him not want to…
Besides, it’s not like he was using the computer for shits and giggles. He was using it because he needed to use it. Because he had to use it.
I mean, the more and more he thought about it, wasn’t it really his fault in the first place? He was the genius. He was the scientist. He was supposed to know the answer to every. single. problem.
Even if the problem was…well, himself.
But what could he even do at this point??? April cut all contacts with him, Mr. O’Neil could be who knows where, and Donnie just ran out of pizza!
Triple. kill!
Well…perhaps using that kind of phrasing isn’t appropriate at the moment, but your picking up what’s he’s putting down, right?
…oh God, he’s starting to sound like Leo…that’s how tired he was.
The scientist groaned, resting his head on the table and rubbing his arm in irritation.
My gosh did he miss sleep.
Even if he got, like, 3 hours on a daily basis…it was 3 hours of sleep! Which is something he rarely got anymore since everything has happened.
He rubbed his arm a tad bit harder, glaring at his computer screen as if it was the most disgusting thing to ever make way on this planet.
And that’s saying a lot. I mean, have you met Raph?
The purple banded turtle sighed in pure annoyance, tapping his other finger on the desk in a repetitive motion.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
At least this he can do without screwing it up. Like he’s done with absolutely everything.
Donnie tapped faster.
Back and forth. Back and forth.
“You look like absolute sugar honey iced tea, broski.” Donnie jumped at the sudden voice, stumbling out of the spinny chair he was sitting on as he grabbed his bō staff which was planted on the floor. He drawed the staff, only to find his baby brother with his hands slightly up in a surrendering position.
“Oh. Hi, Mikey…” The taller turtle relaxed, dropping his staff in complete exhaustion and sinking into his chair like he wasn’t about to chop the other into pieces.
God, did he want sleep...
“Why are you up so early, Dee? It’s, like, 3 a.m. now…” The youngest turtle asked as he walked over to his older brother, pulling up another spinny chair as he sat next to him.
“Late. Why am I up so late. Morning technically starts after midnight. However, 3 a.m. is way too early to be considered part of the daytime. For most of the world, it is still dark outside at this time. And so, 3 a.m. is considered night.” The purple banded turtle rambled. Mikey blinked in confusion at his brother’s rebuttal, rolling his eyes playfully, “Nerd emoji…”
Donnie didn’t even counter the remark. He wanted to, obviously. Sibling bickering is a thing, y’know.
But he had to finish this cure even if it killed him. And how the way things were going, he would have to be revived 14-15 times in order to complete it.
Mikey looked at his older brother worriedly, seeing how focused and entranced he was on the computer. And usually? That would’ve been an amazing thing. Like Mikey here, Donnie would tend to hyperfixate on certain things and spend hours upon hours researching and de-coding and…
Well, you get the idea.
But ever since April stopped talking to them completely, Donnie’s been so…prone to figuring out a way to cure her Dad.
If there even was one…
And the youngest couldn’t even remember the last time he saw his immediate older brother in a bed. Sleeping. And that made the youngest worry. Worry beyond repair. And if you didn’t already know, he doesn’t do worry. That’s Master Splinter’s job…if you weren’t able to tell by all the grey/gray hairs.
“You're doing the tappy-tap thing; you only do that when you're nervous or stressed about something...” Mikey randomly said out loud.
Well…not entirely randomly.
Anytime the second oldest would do that, he would usually end up moving his hand down to tap onto his thigh, and then the light feeling would be overwhelming for him and so he would start scratching…
It was a domino effect that Mikey really didn’t want to go down if he didn’t have to.
The taller teen looked down at his left hand and…sure enough, yep. He was rubbing and scratching and tapping his arm like some crazy crack addict. He adjusted them so they were in his lap, trying not to fidget with any part of his body but soon started bouncing his right leg. “Sorry…” He mumbled.
“Wha-? No…you don’t need to apologize. I just didn’t want you to hurt yourself, Dee. That’s the only reason why I pointed it out.” Mikey rambled comfortingly, frowning a little bit as he saw Donnie’s face in a scowl. The elder’s hands tapped on the desk again, his nails gripping onto the table as he did so.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Mikey glanced at his brother sadly. He’s never seen Donnie this upset before…and that made Mikey worry. And again, Mikey didn’t do worry.
The blue eyed teen went into his pajama pants pockets and grabbed a rubix cube. He honestly completely forgot he had it in there and just happened to remember in this exact moment, but perhaps it was a good thing he forgot.
Because it was obvious his big brother needed it right now.
Mikey gave the other the cube, which he gladly accepted. The taller turtle frustratingly solved the cube…not because solving the cube was frustrating, but because he was frustrated with himself.
“You…wanna talk about it…?” The youngest asked gently. “No…no not really…” The older said as he looked at his computer blankly, solving the cube.
My gosh he needed sleep. And he knew he said that a couple times already but being tired was starting to get…well, tiring!
And you know what the worst part of all of this was?
He did the best he could.
The best he could muster wasn’t enough but at least he tried. Saving the world every day and night sometimes didn’t always go as planned.
But was that good enough? No. Of course it wasn’t. But at least he tried. He always tries. There hasn’t been one mission he hasn’t at least tried to do his part.
It's just kinda hard when you’re a 5'8 mutant turtle that the whole world is afraid of and yet you save their asses each and every day.
The irony…
And on top of it all, he hasn’t been making a smidge of process.
The mutagen still looks the exact same as it did a week ago. And the week before that. And the weeks and weeks and weeks before that…
“Dee…” Mikey started, looking at his older brother with sad, pleading eyes. “No. Stop. Don’t look at me like that.” Donnie scowled, “I’m not in the mood to be pitied.” Mikey returned the cold stare slightly, crossing his arms loosely, “Well, you should be in the mood to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Like hell you’re not.” The smaller turtle laughed bitterly, although nothing at the matter was truly ‘haha’ funny. More so ‘what the actual fuck— go to bed’ funny. “Your eyebags literally have a whole story arc right now. A plot and everything. You can’t tell me your not even a smidge sleepy.”
“That’s hilarious. It’s almost like I just did.” Donnie spat, glaring at the rubix cube as he continued to solve it.
The freckle faced turtle sighed, “Just…look. Listen to me for a sec, okay?” Donnie solved the cube, putting it on the table as Mikey held his hand.
“I know that your work is important to you. And I know you feel responsible for Mr. O’Neil’s mutation.” He started, squeezing Donnie’s hands comfortingly, which caused the elder’s hands to untense a bit, relaxing in the other’s hold. The smaller turtle smiled at the small but impactful motion.
He started up again, “We all do. But we’re not gonna get any step closer to figuring out the cure if our #1 scientist bro keeps working himself to death...”
“And by the looks of it? You’re 50% there…” The younger said as he let go of the other’s hand, getting a better look at his face. “How would you feel if I stayed up working on this all week? Wouldn’t you be worried?”
“You’re not smart enough for that.” Donnie mumbled, a small smug smile on his face.
Mikey gave his brother a playful punch to the shoulder, rolling his eyes playfully as his older brother laughed, tears welling up in his eyes. The blue eyed teen’s eyes widened in surprise, looking up at him.
“Are those…happy or sad tears…?” Mikey asked. “Probably both.” Donnie snickered, wiping away his tears, “Sorry. You know how emotional I get when I’m tired…”
The smaller teen hummed in acknowledgement, resting his head on the taller teen’s shoulder. “How about this: I’ll stay with you in you’re lab to help you go to sleep.” He offered, a small reassuring smile on his face as he looked up at Donnie once again.
“Okay…but what do I get in return?”
“A good night sleep.” The younger deadpanned.
“Touché…” Donnie hummed, now too tired and too emotionally drained to argue at this point. He yawned, standing up from the chair as the action was soon being followed by the other turtle in the room.
“Do not kick me while we’re lying down, got it?”
“Nooooo promises, bro-bro…”
.
.
.
.
.
.
“Okay…I feel utterly ridiculous.” Donnie mumbled as he crossed his arms in Mikey’s hold. Since Donnie couldn’t sleep, the youngest thought it would be a great idea to give him a hug just like their Dad did when they were turtle tots. Which, was to basically hug them from behind while the turtle being hugged was lying down slightly.
It helped them sleep on hard nights…and it seemed like Donnie was having a hard night.
“Don’t be. It’s alright.” The youngest smiled reassuringly, giving his brother another tight squeeze. “Dad did it exactly like this! You’ll fall asleep in no time!”
“Well, Dad’s a 6'2 mutant, Mike. You’re 4'6 while I’m 5'7. This hug is nothing but just pure awkwardness...”
“I’m 4'10!” The smaller mutant corrected, obviously offended by the false statement.
“Then I’m 6 feet tall.” Donnie chuckled.
“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy! Do you want this hug or not?!”
The elder chuckled, making no further comments as Mikey hugged him. The two sat in comfortable silence, enjoying each other’s company as the quietness overtook the room.
“I’m…sorry for being such a dick earlier…” Donnie murmured sadly, “I wasn’t being bitchy on purpose…I was just…” He paused, trying to figure out what he was going to say before suddenly losing the train of thought. “Stop thinking so hard. You’re gonna hurt your big brain.” Mikey pouted, poking Donnie in the cheek a couple times.
“And don’t worry about it. I didn’t take it personally. You were really agitated and tired so you had to let your Alpha male come out. No shame in that.”
“Still. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. So I’m sorry.” Donnie simply mumbled, before blinking in confusion a couple of times, “Wait. Did…Did you just call me an…Alpha male?”
“I sure did.” Mikey beamed proudly.
“Ugh…I hate you so freaking much, y'know that?”
“Suuuure you do. I’m the Alpha, I’m the leader, I’m the one to trust…” The youngest started to sing, rocking himself and Donnie side to side as the eldest tried to get out of the hug. “Ihi rehefuse to get comforted by ahan individual thahat knows thahat atrohocity by heart.” He snickered.
“Oh come on! I think I’m a pretty good singer!” The purple banded turtle only rolled his eyes at the comment, scoffing lightly, “Meehee and yohou hahave different definitions ohof thehehe word good…”
“Fine then! I’m a great singer!” Mikey challenged.
“Lihihike hell yohou are, yohohou bihig oaf.”
“I’m shorter than you, Einstein!”
“Doesn’t mehean your nohohot bihig…” Donnie mumbled giggly but smugly.
The youngest glared, jabbing Donnie in the side, causing the russet eyed turtle to shriek loudly in surprise. Mikey giggled, poking Donnie in the sides repeatedly. “The Boo scream from Monster’s Inc goes crazy, bro.”
“M—Mihihichael!”
“That’s my name~! What’s up? You need something?” The orange banded turtle asked teasingly, peering down at his brother who was now squirming uncontrollably.
“No? Well okay then…” The youngest mused as he continued to wreck his brother. “W—Wahait! Wahait! Ihihi’m gohonna wahahake eheveryone uhuhup!” Donnie squealed, leaning against his little brother’s chest as he squirmed in the hold.
“Then stop laughing then.” The younger one huffed, smiling even more as Donnie’s blush increased in volume and size. “Buhut you’re tihihickling me!”
“I think that sounds like a you problem, dear brother of mine. Maybe you should try being less ticklish and it wouldn’t happen to you!”
Donnie’s giggles became more frantic, turning his face to hide in Mikey’s side. The younger smiled at the shy gesture, ceasing his tickling for a moment.
“I promise I’ll stop when you want me to, okay?” Mikey said with a soft smile on his face; which, was nice and all but at the same time why did he have to be so nice about it???
Donnie nodded embarrassed, preparing himself physically and mentally. “Oh! And thanks for opening this spot for me, Dee.” The smaller mutant giggled as he scribbled his fingers against the crook of Donnie’s neck, which made the taller turtle flail around and try to hit him. “Hehey! Hey! That's not very nice!”
He pulled one of Donnie’s arms up and wiggled his fingers directly in his underarm. “NAHA— *hic* NOHOH!” The older cackled as he desperately tried to pull his arm back down as he hid his face deeper in Mikey’s side. The blue eyed mutant awed teasingly at the sight, chuckling to himself as his big brother laughed his heart out.
“NAHAT *hic* THEHERE! PLEHEASE!”
“Nahat thehere?” Mikey faked gasped, “What about…right here~?” He giggled, squeezing right above the other turtle’s hip bone. Donnie kicked and squirmed as more hiccups followed.
“Awh…is my big brother tickwish~?” Mikey said as he buried his face into the crook of Donnie’s neck, giggling as the older’s cackles began to increase in volume at the teases. “ShuhuHUT yohOUR’E *hic* TRAHAP!” The purple banded turtle shrieked, trying to push at his baby brother’s face to try and stop him.
“You’re hiccups are adorable, big bro~!” Mikey cooed, now noticing how red Donnie’s face have gotten due to all the laughing and teasing. Mikey stopped tickling Donnie but his face still remained in the crook of his neck, smiling at the giggly mess he made of his older brother. Donnie glared while laughing, pushing on his baby brother’s face.
“StaHAP!!! Stohop…”
“I’m not even doing anything!” The other laughed as he hugged Donnie, rocking him back and forth again.
“Lihiterallty dihihie…” Donnie giggly grumbled, trying to wipe off the grin happy smile his brother plasteed on his face. “Yohohou’re. the. absolute wohorst…” He giggled tiredly, curling in on himself as he swatted his baby brother away from him.
“Now…do you wanna go to bed or should we…” The orange banded turtle trailed off of his sentence, looking down to his elder brother whom’s eyes started to droop.
“Pff. 'Night, Dee.”
“Mhm…”
Donnie relaxed in Mikey’s hold, which made the younger one’s eyes soften greatly. He pulled out his phone, taking a picture quickly and going into the family’s group chat:
👁💀👺💥Teenagers who are Mutants who are Ninja’s who are also Turtle’s🍕🌝🧫👼
Yo 😼😼😼
Mikey???
What are you doing up so early?
>:3
Ur lucky Don isn’t online here Leo
He would go on a full on RANT abt the ‘late’ and ‘early’ bs
I’m aware…
So what’s up, Mikey? You okay?
Yeah💕💥!!! I’m fine!!!
Just wanted to tell you guys that I’m in Don’s room catching some ax’s ✨✨✨
WJAT??
BAHAH EXCUSE ME
CAN I JOIN
NONO STUPID AUTOCORRXT
Z’S I MEANT Z’S. AS IN SLEEP
S L E E P I N G
LIKE SNOK MIMIMI TYPE STUFF
Jesus…
Mikey. Never do that again.
IT WASNT WVEN MY FAULTT
SO DOES THAT MWAN NO AXES???
SHUT UP, RAPHAEL
🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕!!!
Oh grow up, Raph
Yeaaaaah Raaaaaaph, grow up 🙄🙄🙄
🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕‼️‼️‼️
Anyway 😾
I came into his room bc he was working on the mutagen thing
Oh…
Poor Don.
He’s been working on that thing for ages
Thanks for doing that, Mikey.
I’m sure he appreciates it.
He better
My shell hurts from supporting his big ass
DAMN
Just go to bed, Mikey— b4 Leo kills the both of us
Love ya bro
See u when u and Don wake up
Love you guys too 💝💘💖💗💓
Mikey smiled as he turned off his phone, putting it on Donnie’s nightstand as he relaxed against the bed frame. He rubbed his brother’s shell comfortingly, humming a small tune softly.
“Hey, Mike?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you for this. I…didn’t know how much I needed it…thank you. I love you.”
Mikey smiled brightly, squeezing Donnie a tad bit tigther, “Love you too, Don. Now go to sleep before you become more wrinkly than you already are.”
“Oh, fuck you…” Donnie chuckled, drifting off to sleep along with his little brother.
Things weren’t perfect. I mean, they never will be. They never would be.
But being apart of a team means your never alone.
And being apart of a family means you’re never alone.
And as long as Donnie had his…he’d be quite alright.
He can finish the mutagen later…as of right now, he needed to go the fuck. to. bed.
And thanks to Mikey, he can finally do that.
·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚FIN˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
(P.S.: If you enjoyed this fic, please consider reblogging!!!)
#Lee!Donnie#Ler!Mikey#MUAHAHAHA#Bet you guys didnt think I could write angst huh#WELL YOURE WRONG🫨🫨🫨‼️‼️‼️#Hope this was delish…def delish for me#Guys I’m so sorry for being so freaking cringy#Its a lifestyle…#Im so happy none of you know me in real life bc GOSH…#IM WORSE.#IF U THOUGHT THIS WAS BAD…WAIT UNTIL I POST MY MM FIC#Re-reading it and why did I make Mikey say “Alpha Male”#OKAY WHY DID I KINDA EAT THAT UP 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥#JUST A TAD…#Sfw tickle community#Sfw tickle fanfiction#Sfw tickle blog#EEEEEEEE#They are my everything 💜🧡#The group chat name I made them makes me giggle sometimes#Mootie patootie#Mutual’s ask#TMNT 2012 tickle#TMNT 2012 tickle fic#TMNT 2012 tickle fanfiction
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For the mischievous prompts "are you sensitive there."
With lee Argenti and Ler Boothill
Or you could do a lee of your choice I feel like Boothill would in a way be a mean ler
Especially with testing out new information he finds out about those he knows
Mischievious Prompts [Still Open]
“I must thank you wholeheartedly for your aid in my time of need! Truly, you couldn’t have arrived at a more perfect moment.”
“Save the thanks,” Boothill snorted; “I barely got you back to the Express, and your armour’s all nicked up.”
“Is it? I hadn’t noticed, I was simply too enraptured in the beauty of your battle!”
“Geeze, this guy… Look, would ya mind dressin’ down a bit so we can make sure you’re not injured?”
Once the knight had dropped his chestplate, Boothill grunted, going about a light examination while his patient waxed on about beauty or… Something to that regard. He was beginning to think the guy would never shut up until a slightly rough prod got him to gasp and stutter over his words, twitching back. The Ranger halted, momentarily worried.
“Aw, shirt – Are you sensitive there? Did it hurt? ”
“N-no, no,” Argenti easily assured him, leaning back a bit with slight fluster; “Quite the opposite; it rather tickled.”
Boothill stared, a little surprised that –
“… You admitted that pretty fudgin’ easily, huh.”
“But of course! Where is the shame? Ticklishness is, too, a beautiful trait!”
The Ranger’s stare turned deadpan, and he rolled his eyes, sneering as Argenti gave a surprised squeal and jolted – yet made no move to stop his saviour/assailant.
“All this beauty this, and beauty that…! I think you oughta start makin’ different sounds with that big mouth of yours!”
“Wait –! Wahahait!”
Across the cabin, Dan Heng opened the door with intent to leave, watched the scene for a moment, then sighed softly and turned right back around. Some things just weren’t worth interrupting; he’d leave once the two of them were gone.
#mine#hsr tickles#honkai star rail tickles#boothill#argenti#this was the funniest combination of characters tbh#sorry its a little shorter I dont have a full grasp on either of them as characters but they were still very fun to write#my fic
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family
summary: nothing, just c!sbi
we pretend the lore didnt happen here
c switch!tommy(he/xey/they), switch!revivedbur(he/they), c switch!technoblade(he/him/they) c switch!philza(he/him)
strictly platonic THEY ARE FAMILY. SHIPPERS & N$FW DNI
word count: 4,034
this is my first time writing a fic including techno since june 14 2022
this is ALSO my LONGEST fic ive ever written! After 5 months it is FINALLY HERE🥲
THIS IS THE C! CHARACTERS!! except it isnt really lore based
c!sbi my beloved
Phil could, for the first time in what felt like forever, say he felt at peace.
All three of his children —technically, only one was actually his son, but he treats them all as such— were in the other room, and Phil could vaguely hear what was going on as the door was cracked open. He could hear them messing around and laughing like they were kids again. Phil had been so stressed lately, but his family being together again had wiped it away. There was a small smile on his face, he hadn’t even noticed.
It was a very loud shriek that broke the avian from his thoughts. He quickly rushed to the room, swinging the door open with a look of panic. It was quickly switched with relief as he realized what was happening.
Wilbur had Tommy trapped in his lap, the blonde squirming and kicking relentlessly as his older brother scribbled all over his stomach while Techno gently squeezed up and down his thighs. “GUHUHUYS!”
Phil stood in the doorway, waiting to see if he’d have to step in or if any of them would notice he was there. He watched as the youngest tried, and failed, to push away the hands of his brothers through his pleas.
“Something wrong, Toms?” Wilbur smirked, switching to pinching up and down Tommy’s sides.
“Yeah, you’re laughing an awful lot. Did we say something funny?” Techno’s smirk matched Wilbur’s.
“YOHOU’RE TIHIHICKLING MEHE!” The blonde went limp in Wilbur’s lap, then realizing Phil was in the doorway. “PHIHIL, HEHEHELP!”
And there was his cue. He stepped into the room, spreading his wings to get the attention of the twins. It worked. They both ceased the tickling, looking up at Phil. Tommy just curled up and hid his bright red face behind his hands.
“Oh, hey Phil!” Wilbur grinned innocently, elbowing Techno in the ribs as a silent way of saying to do the same. Which he did, after flinching with a muffled “ow.” He slightly waved to Phil.
“Hello Wilbur, hey Techno,” Phil crossed his arms, looking down at his sons.
“Mind explaining this?” The avian gestured to Tommy, who was still curled in a ball and giggling —assumingly from the ghost tickles.
“Hm? Oh, we were just messin’ with our little brother, ‘s all,” Techno smiled, bringing one hand to prod Tommy’s side which caused xem to flinch and giggle even more.
“Yohou tried to kihihill mehe!” Tommy whined, getting up and speed-walking to stand next to Phil, who wrapped his non-damaged wing around the teen.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Tommy! Besides, we all know you like being tickled anyway.” Wilbur’s innocent smile turned into a smirk when the younger blonde’s face went bright pink. Xey opened their mouth to protest, but they couldn’t seem to find words to say so he just shut his mouth.
“Well, they’re not wrong on that one, mate.” Phil smiled, bringing up his wing to brush along the back of Tommy’s neck for a second. Xey ducked away and went back to sit in between Techno and Wilbur, light giggles pouring from their lips.
“You aren’t exactly safe here, either, Tommy,” Techno spoke flatly, but he had a smirk on his face as he gently spidered across Tommy’s stomach, emitting a squeal from the younger.
“Why ahaham ihi always the taharget!?” He whined, scooting closer to Wilbur and curling in on himself. It took everything in Wilbur’s power to not coo out loud.
“Probably because of how ticklish you are,” Wilbur stated like it was an entirely normal sentence. Tommy sat up straight and immediately started yelling.
“Everyone in this fucking house is ticklish, not just me!” Tommy exclaimed, exaggerating xeir statement by talking with their hands. Phil shrugged, silently saying “fair.” Techno, however, gave a look of disagreement.
“Everyone?” Techno repeated. “I’m not. I don’t even react to it.” Tommy tilted his head like a confused dog.
“Bullshit! Look!” Tommy sprung up and tackled Techno down. The pinkette immediately started fighting back, the two of them rolling on the ground trying to get the upper hand while Wilbur and Phil watched. It ended with Tommy keeping Techno pinned down, holding his wrists away so he couldn’t fight back.
“Tommy, don’t evEN-“ Techno cut himself off, pursing his lips and squirming as Tommy clawed at his upper ribs through his shirt, the fabric doing absolutely nothing for protection. Tommy had a wide grin, Techno’s struggling being very evident.
“Laugh for me, Techno!” Tommy yelled before ducking xeir head down and blowing a raspberry on Techno’s neck. That broke the damn, high pitched huffs of laughter emitting from the pinkette below the teen.
“Tohohohommy! Gehet awahahay!” Techno pressed his arms down more, trying to scrunch up his shoulders but failing with Tommy’s head in the way.
“You really walked right into that one, mate,” Phil commented with a small chuckle, Wilbur giggling at the scene next to him. He snuck a few pokes to Techno’s side every now and then to see him jolt and complain, “Wihilbur!”
Techno free’d his hands, pushed Tommy off and scooting to sit 5 feet away. “That wahas not necessary.”
“It was very necessary, in my humble opinion,” Wilbur grinned and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around themself. “Seeing the big, tough Technoblade get taken down so easily by tickling will always be amusing.”
“Big talk for someone who screams from a mere poke to their ribs,” Phil piped up, walking over and kneeling next to Wilbur to poke at his upper ribs— to which Wilbur, well, screamed at.
“PHIL! Fuhuck off!” Wilbur backed away, moving closer to Tommy and “hiding” behind xem.
“You think I’ll protect you?” Tommy turned to look at Wilbur. “Hell no! It’s your turn, dickhead!” Tommy quickly turned around and pushed Wilbur down, easily pinning them and digging xeir fingers into his ribs. Wilbur shrieked, grabbing onto Tommy’s wrists and trying to push them away.
“TOHOHOMMY, NOHO!” Wilbur threw his head back, their body jolting when he felt a hand start squeezing at his side. It was Phil.
“I think it’s time you’ve had a turn, yeah? Come on, mate. You were just making fun of Techno for how ticklish he is, but I’d say you’re even worse.” Phil spoke casually, bringing his hand down to pinch and drill his thumb just barely above Wilbur’s hip bone. Wilbur screamed louder than any of the other three boys had ever heard, and again when they felt another hand scribbling under one of his knees.
“NOHOHO! NOHOT AHAHALL OF YOHOHOHOU!” Wilbur covered his face with his hands, trying to hide the growing red hue that spread quickly across his face and muffle their laughter at the same time. “PLEHEHEASE!”
“Aw, Wil, you’ve gone all red!” Tommy exclaimed, which made Wilbur’s face become an even darker red. Xey snuck a hand under Wilbur’s shirt, and lightly traced the scar on the brunette’s stomach. Wilbur squealed, grabbing onto Tommy’s arm and actually getting them to stop. The blonde slightly jumped, suprised that Wilbur actually got him to stop. At the pause, Wilbur quickly turned the tables on Tommy and got xem on the ground. The two started wrestling, both of them fighting for the upper hand as Phil and Techno now watched.
“I’ll bet a stack of emeralds Tommy loses,” Phil muttered. Techno turned to look at the older.
“Deal.”
The two watched as Wilbur and Tommy wrestled, both very dead set on getting the upper hand. It ended with Tommy being pinned down, followed by shrieks of laughter as Wilbur started scribbling all over xeir stomach.
“NOHOHO!” Tommy grabbed Wilbur’s wrists as he threw his head back. “PHIHIHIL! TEHECHNO! HEHEHELP!”
The two men in question looked at each other, back at the scene in front of them, and each other again. They gave each other a look that said “Oh, we’ll help alright.” And then, they both waited a second before pouncing. Techno tackled Wilbur, and Phil went for Tommy. This is not what exactly Tommy had in mind when xey called for help, but at least Wilbur was getting what he deserved at the same time.
Wilbur was caught entirely off guard, landing on the ground next to Tommy with a yelp. “Techno-!? What the fuhuck are you dohoing?”
Techno quickly pinned Wilbur’s hand’s under his knees, but he was careful enough not to hurt them. Techno didn’t speak a word, yet. Phil did the same to Tommy.
“Well, Tommy asked for help. So we’re helping,” Techno deadpanned with a small smirk before vibrating his fingers just above Wilbur’s hip bones, getting a loud shriek out of the brunette.
“I meant both of you go for WilbuhUHUHUR— PHIHIL!” Tommy shrieked at near the same pitch as Wilbur once Phil snuck a hand under Tommy’s shirt, started spidering all over xeir stomach and brushing his wings up and down their sides.
“TEHEHECHNOHO! FUHUCK OHOHOFF, MAHAN!” Wilbur pulled for his hands to be free, but they were weakened from the tickles, therefore failed inevitably.
Techno pretended to think for a moment, as if considering the “request.” “Hmm.. Nah, I think I’ll pass. This is quite adorable, to be honest. Might do continue for a while.”
Wilbur felt the heat rise to his face, he swore it had gone bright pink just then. He whined in embarrassment through his loud laughter.
Tommy was stuck in his own tickly heaven hell. Phil had his wings targeting their neck and ears, which alone would make him melt and giggle away. But Phil also had a finger dipped and wiggling around in Tommy’s navel, the other fingers digging and scritching around it, and his other hand scribbling and squeezing xeir hips. It was torture. Did they love it? Yes. Was he still gonna call it torture? Also yes.
“THIHIHIS IS TOHOHOHORTUHURE!” Tommy tried to free xeir hands, he really did try. But he was weak from the tickles and how hard he was laughing, so he made no progress in freeing them.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it, Toms~!” Phil grinned, bringing a hand to pinch at his ribs for a few seconds before returning to their hips. Tommy’s face was the same shade of pink as Wilbur’s.
Wilbur struggled through shrieks of laughter, trying to free his hands. Techno laughed at him, but then Wilbur actually free’d his hands. They immediately grabbed Techno’s forearms, pushing him off and pinning him down. Well fuck.
“YEHEHES, WIHIHIL! GEHET HIHIHIM- AAHAHAH!” Tommy shouted, shrieking as Phil blew a raspberry directly on xeir navel.
“Let’s see how you like it!” Wilbur exclaimed, vibrating his fingers in the gaps between Techno’s upper ribs.
“WihihIHILBUhur!” Techno whined through laughter. Now, Techno wasn’t insanely ticklish— the least ticklish one out of SBI. But it was still pretty bad, to him.
“TechnoOooO!” Wilbur mimicked, giggling to himself as he suddenly shot his hands to Techno’s underarms, drilling into the hollows to elicit a small scream, small snorts following after.
“That will never get old,” Phil commented, smiling as he noticed Techno’s ears go red. Then he got an idea. “Say, Tommy, do you snort like that?”
He knew the answer; yes. But he wanted to torture the kid.
“NOHOHO!” Tommy lied, trying to get Phil off of xem before he could do anything. Phil raised an eyebrow.
“Really? Alright, so I’ll go ahead and just—“ Phil cut himself off as he wiggled a finger in Tommy’s navel, causing the younger to squeal as snorts peppered through his laughter. Phil grinned, “Jesus, you and Techno really are brothers, aren’t you? So cute, honestly.”
“Shuhuhut uhup, Phihihil!” Techno thrashed around, desperate to get Wilbur off. But now he was more determined— to get Phil for that ‘cute’ comment. He’s Technoblade! He isn’t cute, he’s intimidating! Scary! Mean! Not cute!
“Christ, Techno, I thought you were a pig, not a buhull.” Wilbur laughed, struggling to keep the pinkette pinned down.
Techno reached over, squeezing Phil’s side which caused the eldest to fall off of Tommy out of surprise, giving xem a break.
“Gotcha!” Techno grinned, pushing Wilbur away and tackling Phil before he could escape. “Laugh for the laugh god, old man!” Techno exclaimed before digging his fingers into Phil’s stomach, scribbling and pinching around the spot and smirking as the man fell into a fit of high pitched laughter. Tommy snickered at the sight before him.
“Yeah, how do you like it, bitch!” Tommy exclaimed, leaning over to poke Phil’s side, but xey were pulled back before they could do anything. Damnit.
“Isn’t this nice, Toms? Those two are busy, now I can get some quality time with my little brother!” Wilbur exclaimed over Phil’s cackles before tasering the younger blonde’s sides.
“WIHILBUR! Nohoho!” Tommy attempted to squirm out of Wilbur’s grasp, but was quickly weakened as the brunette blew a raspberry on the back of xeir neck.
“Why not? Does it tickle too much? I’ve barely done anything,” Wilbur teased, sneaking a hand under Tommy’s shirt to scribble at his bare stomach, relishing in the squeal that emitted from his brother.
Phil was having his own “problem” with Techno, desperate to escape this tickly heaven hell, but Techno was stronger than the man and so he was trapped. “TEHEHECHNOHO!”
“Yeah? What’s up old man? Something botherin’ you?” Techno’s voice was monotone as always, but there was a slight tease to his tone as he vibrated his fingers between the gaps of Phil’s ribs.
“YOU KNOHOW WHAHAHAT’S WROHOHONG!” Phil cackled, slight wheezes escaping from how much he’d been laughing.
“Do I?” The pinkette smirked, leaning down to blow a raspberry on Phil’s neck, eliciting a squeal.
“Wihihil! Lehet mehe gohoho!” Tommy whined through giggles as Wilbur traced shapes into the sides of xeir stomach.
“I’m hardly doing anything,” Wilbur chuckled, “But I can do worse. I think I will, actually!” Without warning, Wilbur blew a raspberry onto Tommy’s neck and dug his fingers into xeir stomach, scribbling and spidering around the sensitive skin. Tommy screamed.
“WIHIHIHIL! NOHOHO THIHIS ISN’T FAHAHAIR!” Tommy squirmed, trying to wiggle their way out of Wilbur’s hold, but it was no use. Wilbur was far stronger than xey were, especially right now.
“Are you trying to escape from me?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think so, giggles. You’re trapped in my tickly, tickly grasp~!” Tommy’s voice went bright red, the brunette’s teasing tone was insanely flustering.
Wilbur rested his chin on Tommy’s shoulder, blowing air on the blonde’s ear before whispering, “Tickletickletickle!” Tommy’s ears flushed the same shade of red their face had, letting out a whine at the tease.
Tommy’s arms were trapped, but they could somewhat reach behind him. And he did, latching onto where Wilbur’s back meets their sides, and lightly squeezed the spot as much as he could. Wilbur let go of Tommy to remove xeir hands, and Tommy fell forward. “TOHOMMY!”
Wilbur looked up at Tommy, narrowing his eyes at the younger. “Oh you want to fight? I’ll give you a fight, you little prick!” Wilbur exclaimed before tackling Tommy down, the two of them rolling around on the ground and fighting for the upper hand. Both poking and prodding different spots to attempt to weaken the other, high-pitched giggles emitting from the both of them.
The fight did not end, however, it switched to the two of them tickling each other at the same time. Tommy scribbled over Wilbur’s back, occasionally pinching at the backs and sides of their ribs, and Wilbur was poking and squeezing around Tommy’s stomach and sides. The two shrieked out curses and protests at each other, wide smiles on their flushed faces.
Techno looked over at the two rolling around on the floor together and grinned, “You two are adorable.”
“Ihi wihIHIHILL KIHIHILL YOHohou TOHOHOMMY! Bahastahard!” Wilbur squealed, getting hold of one of Tommy’s wrists and holding xeir arm above their head before using his free hand to vibrate his fingers on Tommy’s underarm. Tommy shrieked, immediately falling defenseless and bringing xeir free hand to push away Wilbur’s— which resulted in Wilbur now having hold of both of Tommy’s hands.
Wilbur quickly pinned Tommy by sitting on xeir legs, holding their arms above their head with one hand. “You messed with the wrong person, Toms~” Wilbur teased, grinning evilly as he saw the teen’s widened eyes and bright red face. “Now you will face my wrath of tickles, you little prick!” He quickly lifted Tommy’s shirt, blowing a long raspberry right in the middle of xeir stomach. Tommy screamed, and Techno paused his torture to Phil to look over.
“Are you trying to murder him?” Techno questioned, a smirk on his face when he saw the state of the demon hybrid below Wilbur.
“I said I would!” Wilbur exclaimed before leaning down to blow another raspberry, directly on Tommy’s navel.
“FUHUHUCK, WIHIHILBUHUR! NOHOHOHO!” Tommy shrieked, squirming left to right and bucking xeir hips as much as possible. It was torturous. He loved it… but torturous.
Phil had practically melted on the floor, being given a break by Techno. He himself was unsure if he could take anymore tickles; he was pretty tired by this point. He noticed the pinkette about to start again.
“Tehechno- nohoho mohore..” Phil was quiet, luckily Techno had very good hearing and he let up, getting off of Phil and sitting next to him. Maybe the good hearing wasn’t very good for Techno himself, given the high pitched screeching coming from Tommy right next to him as Wilbur continued to wreck the youngest of the four.
“PLEHEHEASE WIHIHIL!” Tommy bucked his hips more as Wilbur brought down their hand to pinch and drill his thumbs into both of xeir hips. Tommy started trying to push Wilbur away, so the brunette quickly pinned Tommy’s hands under his knees. He was careful not to hurt Tommy in the process.
“Aww, is it bad?” Wilbur teased, “Thought you were a big man, Tommy! Surely you’re strong enough to handle a little bit of tickling, right~?” Tommy shook his head frantically through shrieky laughter and giggles, kicking his legs as much as he could with Wilbur sitting on them.
Wilbur brought up one hand to dig their fingers into Tommy’s ribs, vibrating his fingers in the gaps and pinching at the bones. His other hand switched between pinching at Tommy’s hips to scribbling over xeir stomach. “THIHIS IHIHISN’T FAHAHAHAIR!”
Wilbur smirked, “It’s not my fault you’re so ticklish.” He leaned down to blow a raspberry on xeir neck before whispering in their ear, “Tktktktk~” The brunette’s smirk turned to a grin as he watched Tommy’s blush spread to his ears and down his neck.
“Flustered, Tommy?” Techno commented from beside the two, gently pinching Tommy’s side and chuckling when xey flinched with a small squeal.
“FUHUCK OHOHOFF!” The youngest shrieked as Wilbur blew another raspberry on their stomach.
“That’s not very nice, Toms. Be nice to your brothers,” Phil spoke up with a small smile on his face. Tommy whined as now everyone in the room was against him.
“THEHEHEY’RE BEHEING DIHIHIHICKS!” Tommy tried to free his hands to bring his arms down. Xey were desperate to defend themself from this torture. Wilbur had his free hand scribbling and digging his fingers into Tommy’s stomach, he wasn’t being too rough so that it wouldn’t hurt, only tickled. Badly.
The demon hybrid squeaked as there was a soft, feathery feeling on his neck— Phil’s wings. The mixture of gentle and rough tickles were almost unbearable. “OHOhoh fohOHOR FUHUCKS SAHAKE! PHIL!”
“You haven’t once said stop, Tommy, we know you love this~” Techno teased lightly, smiling at the flustered state of the younger as he delivered a few pokes to xeir side.
“Look at him, all red and flustered! Awh,” Phil cooed, scribbling his fingers against the side of Tommy’s neck.
“Xey’re so ticklish, it’s just so adorable. I may not be able to handle it, I might explode from the cuteness.” Wilbur joked to Techno and Phil, slowing the tickles as the three of them talked about Tommy as if he wasn’t even there. This flustered Tommy more than it should have.
“Ihihi aham RIHIGHT hehehere!” Tommy giggled out, finally freeing their hands to push Wilbur’s away and cover his face.
“Oh, I’m sorry Tommy. Do you need all of my attention on you? You need more tickles? Is that it? Hmm~?” Wilbur teased, poking at Tommy’s stomach and allowing xem to keep their hands free. Under one condition.
“How about we play a little game,” Wilbur grinned, eyeing Techno and Phil. The two immediately understood what he was about to have Tommy do. Wilbur gently grabbed Tommy’s wrists, focusing back on him as he lifted their arms. “You keep your arms up like this, and you can’t let them down. Or else.” They spoke in a teasing tone, his grin forming more into a smirk when the look on Tommy’s face mixed with panic, excitement, and flusteredness. Xey nodded, already trembling at the sight of Wilbur, Techno, and Phil with their hands in the shapes of claws. He’s so dead. A dead man. Gone.
Wilbur looked at him with a look that said, “Ready?” Tommy nodded again, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and taking in a sharp breath to brace himself, but it wasn’t much help as he immediately shrieked at both of Wilbur’s hands digging into xeir stomach, scribbling and pinching and tasering against the sensitive skin. Techno soon followed, squeezing up and down Tommy’s thighs and occasionally scribbling beneath their knees. Not a good day for Tommy to wear shorts. Phil joined in, his wings brushing against Tommy’s neck and ears while he used his hands to pinch and scribble on xeir sides and ribs. This was entirely TORTURE.
“GUHUHUHUYS!” Tommy screamed, his arms shaking as he struggled to hold them up. How was he expected to do this!? They could have at least made it easier for him!
“THIHIS IHIHIS UHUHUNFAHA- AAHAHA WIHIHILBUHUR! NOHOHOHO!” Tommy shrieked, kicking his legs as best as he could and bringing down their arms to shove at Wilbur’s head as he blew a long raspberry on xeir navel, then taking a breath before going back to nibble on their stomach. Tommy’s laughter fell silent for a second as he threw his head back, immediately screaming again before falling into laughter once again. He could hardly speak, really only making out the words “FUHUHUCK!” and “NOHOHO!”
Wilbur obviously noticed that Tommy brought his arms down, but he also noticed how his laughter had fallen silent for a moment then grew to be raspy as the boy could barely even speak anymore. He wasn’t going to continue, not roughly. He gestured for Phil and Techno to stop as he let Tommy go. Wilbur immediately pulled Tommy to a hug, gently rubbing his back as a gesture of comfort and resting their chin on xeir head. Tommy breathed heavily as he buried his face against Wilbur’s chest, taking in big gulps of air as he began to relax in Wilbur’s hold. Phil cooed out loud at the two.
“Did I, or, we, go too far, Toms?” Wilbur asked, his voice gentle. Tommy shook his head no.
Eventually, Tommy looked up at Wilbur. His face was bright red, dried tears on their face, now with a small smile and still squinted eyes. Wilbur couldn’t help himself;
“Awwh!”
Tommy hid his face again out of embarrassment, yelping as Wilbur stood up and moved Tommy to carry xem bridal style. Techno placed a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder as he got a look at the teen in the brunette’s arms. He smiled fondly.
The four men all silently agreed on just relaxing in the main room of the house. Tommy stayed huddled close to Wilbur, clinging to him like a koala to a tree branch.
He may have been tired —all four of them were, honestly, but Tommy especially—, but that didn’t stop him from delivering a few pokes to the three men he was surrounded by, smiling at the small yelps and muffled giggles from each of them.
He deserved at least a little revenge for all of that, right?
#the end is like mostly lee tommy#…sorry force of habit/hj#its 6:20 AM#strangleetomz#strangleetomz fics#mcyt tickle#dsmp tickle#lee!tommy#ler!tommy#switch!tommy#lee!wilbur#ler!wilbur#switch!wilbur#lee!techno#ler!techno#switch!techno#lee!technoblade#ler!technoblade#switch!technoblade#lee!phil#ler!phil#switch!phil#lee!philza#ler!philza#switch!philza
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lee! changbin and ler! chan and minho!!
who wreck changbin really good😼
Diagnosis:
𝒍𝒆𝒆: Changbin
𝒍𝒆𝒓: Chan and Minho
𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘢 𝘪 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨! 💗🧋
[Medical AU]
I choose to keep the warnings secret to sustain some level of surprise to the story. Read at your own risk !!!⚠️
@jeonginsdiary HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVE 💕
-Changbin is a soloist in this story-
also i wrote this 4 months before it released, so the template's the same LMAO
𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: @someone-who-loves-kpop-saranghae @jeonginsdiary @leeknowstan33@v--143@wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday@inkytornpages@lajanaa @a-wild-seungberry
Being a soloist certainly wasn’t easy. Especially if you live alone.
Changbin felt pretty lonely, watching as all the other groups in JYP file into their dorms after a long JYP NATION concert.
He watched as all the members congratulated each other with hugs and happiness, and that feeling of loneliness only increased.
He smiled and waved at everyone until he got back to his dorm, following by shutting the door and then facing the dark silence.
He usually feels at home, but the place only feels cold now.
Sometimes, he regretted choosing to work alone. Other times, he realizes that he’s too shy to work with other people.
Changbin slumped down onto his couch, hating the way his stomach rolled up and fixing his posture.
He wished he had someone who would help him feel the same love as the others did. But that was impossible.
The days only passed, his break becoming filled with his thoughts. He had no one else to think about.
Soon enough, this mindset became increasingly draining, leaving Binnie exhausted constantly from overthinking and feeling overwhelmed.
However, the company noticed this soon enough, and they scheduled him a psychological evaluation for the next day.
Changbin scowled at the schedule. He hated doctors visits.
The questions that his doctor asked him always made him feel small and uncomfortable, and he was certainly not looking forward to it happening again.
But it had to be done.
The next morning, he prepared himself for the crippling questions that pierced through his confidence, hoping that maybe, maybe��things would be better today.
Changbin arrived at his appointment on time, making sure that his doctor had nothing to criticize.
But it wasn’t his doctor.
“Mhm…Ah! Seo Changbin?” A man said, smiling sweetly at him.
“T-That would be me.” Changbin cursed at himself internally for stuttering. He probably looked like a idiot.
“Right this way.”
Changbin tried not to scrunch his nose up at the strong smell of hand sanitizer, it was making his eyes water.
The man, whose name tag said ‘Christopher Bang Chan’, led him to the room, where Binnie took a seat on the chair.
He prepared himself for the uncomfortable questions. He was an idol after all. He was used to this.
However, this doctor didn’t say anything like that at all.
“How are you feeling today?” Chris asked with a dimply smile.
“I’m feeling good…” Changbin lied, the words came so easily to him.
“I don’t think so.” Christopher replied nonchalantly as he pressed a sphygmomanometer [blood pressure cuff] to the rapper’s chest.
“Your blood pressure's increased drastically...are you okay?” Chris furrowed his eyebrows at Changbin.
“I guess idol work has me feeling a little anxious, nothing more I guess…” Changbin trailed off, avoiding eye contact with the doctor as if it was embarrassing.
But instead of making him feel uncomfortable, Chris had actually listened.
“What part of your work makes you feel this way? Is it the producing, the deadlines, the performances…?” Chan smiled sweetly at Changbin as he spoke, leaving the shorter feeling considerably relieved and relaxed.
“I think I just feel a little…lonely?” Changbin tried to communicate, feeling as if he needed to more in depth, but before that could happen, Chan cut him off.
“Ahhh, you’re a soloist, right? That makes sense. I think you just need to have a good time with someone who wants to be around you. That one thing could decrease that feeling.” Chris diagnosed, scribbling on his notepad.
“Oh-Okay. But I…” Changbin didn’t feel like saying more.
He didn’t have friends. At least, friends who wanted to be around him for his personality and not his money.
“-You don’t have friends.” Chris replied, smiling at the way Bin’s eyes widened.
“You are famous. It makes sense. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m retiring from this job soon. I’m going to become a producer, so you’ll probably see me around.” Chris talked, clearly trying to cheer the rapper up.
“O-Okay.” Changbin didn’t know how to respond, but he was considerably happier knowing that the doctor was going to do what he loved.
“We have another way to fix that, but only if you want to…” The taller clicked his pen a few times before checking a box on his sheet.
Let’s say Binnie was a little more than desperate. “That’s okay, I want to do it.” He replied, smiling shyly back at his doctor.
“Okay, let me call the psychologist, his name is Minho, by the way, and he will explain the procedure.” Chris stood up and left the room, leaving Changbin waiting on the chair.
“Good afternoon.” A man walked into the room, who Changbin presumed to be Minho.
“Good afternoon.” Changbin replied quietly, feeling a little shy.
“Right. So Chan told me everything, so I’m here to explain the procedure.” Minho stared down at his clipboard as he spoke.
“Okay…” Changbin watched as Minho took his seat, leaning forward to clasp the rapper’s hands with his own.
“Do you know the effects of laughing on a human being?” Minho almost whispered.
“Laughing lets you release endorphins, and enhanced your intake of oxygen.” Binnie recalled.
“Oooh, we have a smart man here!” Minho smiled heartily down at him, squeezing his hands once, which Changbin found surprisingly relaxing.
“So we have to find a way to destress you, and make you laugh.” Minho continued, Changbin nodding along with him.
“So, we’re going to have to take an injection. Are you scared of needles?”
Changbin shook his head, confused.
But if the company trusted this psychologist enough to assign him to Changbin, then he must be safe.
Minho walked over to Changbin and gently removed his jacket, causing the younger to shiver from the sudden chill hitting his skin through his tank top.
“Oh, you’re wearing the perfect shirt. I don’t even need to do anything!” Minho gently took Bin’s arm in his hand and lifted it above his head, earning a little squeak in return.
Minho pulled a long piece of metal from the table and strapped Changbin’s hand to it, high above his head, making sure it stretched just enough not to hurt, adjusting the strap so that it was snug, but not uncomfortable.
The psychologist did the same with the other arm, guiding Binnie to a sitting position and strapping his legs down as well.
“How is this going to help me laugh?” Changbin asked, nerves increasing as he tried to unsuccessfully pull his arms down.
Minho just smiled and scribbled up the boy’s side.
Binnie squeaked loudly and jerked away, his eyes widening in realization.
No. They wouldn’t. Would they?
A bewildered Changbin watched as Minho opened a box and grabbed a needle, sterilizing it before walking over.
“This’ll hurt for a few seconds, then it’ll feel really tingly, okay?” Minho smiled when Binnie nodded, bracing himself.
The needle went in, piercing the underside of his bicep, and nothing could’ve prepared Changbin for the pain that followed.
However, he held it back. A few strained whimpers escaped him, but most of it was muffled.
“Okay. We’re done. You okay?” Minho patted Binnie’s bicep, eyes widening in awe at the size of it.
The older attached a bandage to the bleeding point.
“Mhm.” Changbin suddenly felt extremely tingly, the feeling spreading from the area on his bicep, down his arm, and throughout his body.
He stifled a giggle at the incredibly ticklish sensation.
“Okay, I would tell you what this injection does, but I think it’s better if I show you.” Minho called Chris back into the room, who looked delighted to see the shortest okay.
"Okay! How was the injection? I bet it hurt, huh? Well, how about we cheer you up..." Chan gave the pinned boy an evil smirk before ducking his hands down and squeezing once at his side.
The youngest jerked harshly with a loud squeal.
Changbin didn’t think he was that ticklish…but his thoughts were cut out a few seconds later by his own laughter.
Chan’s fingers continued to tickle all over his torso lightly, and the eldest watched as Changbin muffled his own giggles by biting his lip and hiding his face in his bicep.
“Aweee! He’s so cute! Don’t try to hold it in, that shot was just to make you more sensitive.” Chan teased, giggling when Changbin’s face turned a bright pink.
“mhmhmAHAHAHA!” Changbin squealed through his laughter as Minho joined in at his underarms, and the fact that he was wearing a tanked shirt made the unbearable feeling at his bare underarms insanely strong.
Changbin tugged at his arms, forgetting that they were pinned high above his head, leaving him at the complete mercy of the two doctors.
“PLEHEHEASE! WHYHY AHARE YOUHU TIHIHICKLING MEHEHE?!?” Changbin made out through his loud hysterics.
“Eh. You were cute and needed a laugh. Why else~?” Minho teased even further, moving slightly further down and startling himself with the scream that the helpless boy underneath him emitted.
“NAHAHAT THEHEHERE!” Binnie cackled, suddenly throwing his head back when Chan’s hands curled around to his back, leaving the boy twisting and squirming weakly.
“Fine. Later, though.” Minho frowned, instead moving downwards and squeezing Changbin’s thighs.
“NOHOHO IHIHITS TOOHO BAHAHAHAD! AAAAAHH DONT!” Chan’s fingers had resorted to digging at his v-line, throwing the youngest into another round of loud laughter.
Changbin had never felt more ticklish in his life.
He was pretty sure the shot was to make him more ticklish, even Chan had said so.
Binnie didn’t even know it existed. He wasn’t complaining though, he definitely felt better than before.
“AHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! STOHOHOHOP!-” Bin screeched, the feeling becoming way too overwhelming for him to handle.
“Okay, break time!” Both boys let up on the heaving boy, who panted and gasped for breath.
“ahaha…whyhy…” Changbin let out the last few giggles, smiling softly up at the two lers.
“Never mind that. Why are you so freakin’ cute?!” Chan squeaked, pinching softly at the youngest’s cheeks.
Changbin couldn’t help but blush, only to giggle lightly when the other two cooed even more.
He finally caught his breath, only to start squealing again when Minho stroked lightly along the area between his armpit and highest rib, an obvious weak spot.
The metal strap above his head clanged, Binnie squirming around as Minho dug one hand into the previously mentioned area.
“AGGHAHAHAHA! PLEHEHAHAHA-” Changbin screamed uncontrollably and thrashed desperately at the insanely ticklish sensation.
"Ouuu, this must be your worst spot!" Lino looked like he had found a pot of gold, making sure to contast the tickles on each side of Binnie's chest, one side lightly stroking, and the other side digging harshly.
"NOAHAHAHA! MINHO! MIHIHINHO PLEASE!"
Changbin didn't know which side to twist, both types of tickles were absolute torture for the poor soloist.
"He's too adorable! What's wrong bun? Someone's got the giggles?~" Chan cooed in a baby voice, squeezing Changbin's cheeks as he giggled at the flustered blush on the boy's face.
"Come on Chris! Help me tickle him! He isn't laughing hard enough!" Minho scolded, ignoring the loud screech emitted from the rapper.
"NOOOHO CHRIS DOHON'T HELP! I'LL DIHIHIE! PLEASE-"
"Of course you won't die! We're doctors, we know when to stop!" Chan glanced at the machine situated behind Binnie, which displayed the boy's statistics.
He was going to tap out soon.
Changbin begged and begged, tears streamed down his face, and he was twisting in every direction humanely possible.
Then Chris wriggled his fingers deep into the crevices of Binnie’s ribs, driving the helpless boy underneath him ballistic.
Changbin screamed as loud he could, which was pretty loud, and desperately tugged at his arms, which were infuriatingly still strapped above his head, unwilling to crash down anytime soon.
"OOH he's so loud!" Chan whined, as if he wasn't the one breaking the poor boy beneath them.
"Good thing the room's soundproof. It sounds like we're murdering him!" Minho winced as he pulled another scream from the soloist beneath him.
But Changbin would be lying if he said he hated it.
"Say that you're happy, and we'll stop." Chan decided to give the poor boy a chance.
“BAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAP! IHIHIM HAHAHAHAPPY!!!”
And just like that, the torture stopped.
Chris unbuckled his wrists, and Changbin slumped, breathless, against the chair.
Minho handed him a pill and a glass of water.
"What's this fohor?" Changbin stared at the small pill resting in his palm.
"It's the antidote for that injection you took. Though I would have liked it to stay like that, don't ya think?~" Minho teased, wiggling a singular finger in Binnie's face and watching him squirm.
The soloist popped the pill before downing the glass of water, slumping backwards against the chair and panting slightly.
“Do you feel better?” Minho asked, gently rubbing at his sore wrists.
“Y-Yehea…” Binnie gave them a wide smile, and Minho couldn’t help but squish his cheek again.
“Sorry ‘bout that. It’s kinda something we do for anxious or sad patients. Especially idols who need a laugh. You feeling better?” Chan giggled nervously.
“Y-Yeah. I’m definitely coming back later.” Changbin flushed when the other two cooed at him, exchanging numbers with him.
-----
Changbin went back to his dorm, the flat looking a lot more comforting than before.
He slept. A lot.
Then someone knocked on his door.
Distracted from the light of his laptop (chop chop cooking up a hotpot-), Binnie opened the door.
"Hi! I'm apparently supposed to join your group? I'm your new leade-WAIT. Changbin?!" Chan squealed.
i hope you enjoyed! please check my intro post before interacting! love ya! 💕💗💖
#kpop tickle#midzywannabeitzy#stray kids#skz tickle#skz#BAHSJD#IM SORRY ABOUT THE CRAPPY ENDING#this flustered me WAYY TOO MUCH#my brain is empty haha#I KNOW I SAY THIS EVERY TIME#but this may be the best fic i have ever written#agree with me?
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Broadcast Interference
Disclaimer: This is a tickle fic, so if that isn’t your thing, then just ignore this.
Summary: Vox and Alastor’s rivalry is no secret to anyone. What is a secret is the more… interesting ways they deal with each other
TW: Tickling (Intense, seriously), Swearing, Restraints, Drinking, Vox and Alastor are both Bastard Men, Mentions of Cannibalism
Idea inspired by this post by @coolbananas143
Really, everyone should have expected this sooner or later. A rivalry like Vox and Alastor’s doesn’t just stick to insulting each other via radios and television screens. No, at some point, it gets physical, and it’s better for everyone to just stay out of their way. Thankfully, the residents of the Hazbin Hotel had unintentionally done just that.
It was no secret that the Television Overlord spied on basically everyone in Pentagram City, and the Hazbin Hotel was no exception. Sure, at first the monitoring could be chalked up to either “it’s just what Vox does” or “He’s watching the hotel to keep track of Angel for Val.”, but upon learning the Radio Demon had returned from a seven year absence to just throw himself into Charlotte Morningstar’s passion project, well, Vox couldn’t stop monitoring the hotel.
He had waited for the perfect opportunity, one where no one else besides Alastor would be at the hotel. Sure, Vox would have loved a captive audience to his triumph over that old-timey prick, but all in good time. He wanted all of Hell to see just who was in charge, and that would only happen when he found a way to record Alastor without the Radio Demon distorting the video. For now, however, this would do.
Alastor was going to be alone. The Princess had decided on another little ‘bonding excursion’, and as predicted, the Radio Demon had declined to go, most likely finding it beneath him. Ah, how that ego of his would be Alastor’s undoing. After making sure everyone else had left, Vox zapped himself through to the camera closest to the hotel, landing right in front of the doors.
‘You’re in for quite the surprise, you old-timey prick!’ The TV Thought as he entered the hotel.
—
Alastor knew something had been wrong ever since Charlie and the others left. He wasn’t alone in the hotel, much to his annoyance. The Radio Demon had been hoping for one day where he could be uninterrupted, but this was Hell and that was wishful thinking. In hindsight, he should have sent his shadows to see who dared infiltrate the hotel, but he was the Radio Demon, he could take care of any lowlife sinners who tried to deface or destroy the hotel.
What he hadn’t been expecting was Vox, looking like he had been waiting for Alastor. That pompous, sorry excuse for an Overlord had made himself at home, even pouring himself a drink from Husk’s bar. How he ate and drank wasn’t something Alastor wanted to question, what he wanted to know was why Vox had dared to step foot into the hotel.
“Just wanted to see what was keeping you so busy.” Vox responded casually, deliberately reaching over the bar instead of going around it, just making a mess. “There’s so much tacky fucking circus decor in here, is that what little princess Morningstar is running? A circus?”
“I can assure you, they were not my doing.” Alastor growled, his already thin patience for the TV wearing down further. “It’d be best for both of us if you left. With all your limbs still attached.”
“Try me, old man.” Vox dared.
“I would say I’ve been dying to eat you, but I’d rather not expunge my guts today!”
Insults soon turned to assaults, a bottle flying at the Radio Demon. Tendrils spawned from the ground, making a grab at the TV Overlord, but Vox had learned from their last fight. The two scuffled for some time, Alastor only feeling slightly bad for the damages to the hotel, considering that would make more for Niffty to clean.
‘Not to mention how cross Husker will be when he finds the bar raided and destroy-’ That one train of thought was Alastor’s undoing.
The wires from the hotel’s TV ripped out of the wall, ensnaring the Radio Demon. They wrapped around his arms, pulling them taut and upward, before wrapping around his waist and legs, so he couldn’t kick his way out. Try as he might, he couldn’t get free, growling as the TV came closer to his face.
“Look at you, trapped like the helpless animal you are.” Vox grinned, leaning in close, only for Alastor to try to smash his head into the TV Screen.
“I’ll show you helpless when I tear all your limbs off and devour them in front of you!” Alastor snarled, trying to pull himself free as Vox walked around him.
“You need to relax.” Vox hummed, dragging a claw down Alastor’s side slowly.
He had meant for it to hurt, but what he hadn’t expected with the Radio Demon stiffening, and biting his lip. Vox hummed at this discovery, repeating the action, which in turn caused Alastor to try to pull away. The TV couldn’t contain his excitement, he recognized all the signs thanks to working closely with Valentino and Velvette. He recognized them from having helped bring Angel Dust to tears a few times.
“You’re fucking ticklish?!” The amount of pure joy and malice in his voice didn’t escape Alastor. “This is too good!”
“It would be in your best interest if you forget all of this and release me this instance if you value your-” Whatever threat the Radio Demon was about to make was cut off by the feeling of Vox’s claws on his hips, scratching and digging into them.
“You’re not the one in control right now, are you~?” Vox teased. “No, you’re at my mercy, so watch your tongue.”
“Ihihihih’d tehehehell yohohohou to bihihihite meheheh, but yohohohou’d enjohohohoy that!” Alastor was pushing him, he knew that, but he wasn’t about to let the TV Overlord think for one second he wasn’t in control!
“Alright, keep pushing your luck.” Vox mused, moving his hands up Alastor’s sides. “I can do this aaallll day~”
Alastor tried once again to get away from the TV Overlord, his laughter going up an octave as Vox got closer to his ribs. He needed to get out of this situation before the bastard found his worst spots. The Radio Demon was sure his pride wouldn’t survive the taunts and teases that would be sure to follow.
“Let me guess, since you’re a cannibal, this is your favorite spot~?” Vox hummed, digging into Alastor’s ribs and grinning as the deer let out a squeal.
“Iihihihi’ve beehhehehen tihihihickled behehehetter bhihihihiihy thehehehe wihihihihnd!” Alastor was hoping if he got Vox angry enough, he’d drop his guard and that would give him the chance to escape.
“Ohoh, now you’re asking for it you prick!” Vox growled, his eyes scanning over the Radio Demon. There had to be a spot that would have him begging for mercy, and, as Vox noticed Alastor’s ears flicking, he got a wicked idea. “I’m getting bored of this spot anyway.”
His hands were removed from Alastor’s ribs, much to the deer’s relief. That respite was short-lived, however, as he noticed Vox looking at his ears. Before he could even threaten the TV, his ears were being scratched and rubbed, tickling the Radio Demon to no end. He couldn’t hold back anymore, pride be damned!
“FUHUHUHUCK NOHOHOHOHOH!” Alastor squealed. “CEHEHEHEHEASE AHAHAHAHT OHOHOHOHONCE!”
“Oh, that spot got you screaming quickly!” Vox sounded positively ecstatic about this discovery. “Wonder how long it’ll take before you’re a crying mess.”
“NEHEHEHEHEVER!”
“Never?” Vox chuckled, beginning to emit small, harmless shocks from his claws. “Your funeral~”
The shocks were sending a new wave of ticklish Hell upon Alastor’s nerves. A loud screech of radio static came from his throat, Vox recoiling slightly from the noise, but not enough to stop tickling him. The TV wasn’t letting him go anytime soon, and Alastor knew the only thing he could do was pray he either got bored, or pray that the others would return soon.
“I wonder what other spots get you screaming like this?” Vox hummed, despite not expecting the deer to answer. “Not talking? Guess I’ll have to find out on my own~”
Alastor was going to make him pay for this! He’d wipe that shit-eating grin off Vox’s face if it was the last thing he ever did! Another screech of radio interference escaped the Radio Demon, feeling like he was going mad. Vox, meanwhile, was having the time of his afterlife, but he needed more. He needed a spot that would finally be too much for Alastor.
“GEHEHEHEHEHT OHHOOHOHOHOFF MEHEHEHEHE BEHEHEHEHFOHOHOHOHRE IHIHIHIHIHIH BIHIHIHIHITE YOHOHOHOHU!”
A small ‘ding’ sound played from Vox’s speakers, the TV getting an idea. With a smirk, and after a few more electric shocks, he ceased his attack on the sensitive ears. Alastor caught his breath, not yet noticing the wires restraining him brought him up higher off the ground, his abdomen now level with Vox’s face.
“Thanks for giving me a hint~” Vox teased, and before the Radio Demon could respond, the TV had ripped open both the deer’s coat and undershirt, buttons flying off in random directions.
“You’re going to pay for that-” The threat was cut off by Vox slowly stoking a finger up and down Alastor’s stomach, making him freeze.
“All this talk of eating and shit has made me a bit… hungry~” Vox said, before grabbing Alastor’s sides with both hands.
“Vox, I-I’m warning you. If you even think about doing what I think you’re planning, It will be the last thing you ever live to do-” Alastor began, only to be stopped as Vox’s claws dig into his sides.
“You talk too much.” Vox replied, leaning in close.
It happened too fast for the Radio Demon to react, suddenly Vox’s face was in his stomach, before he felt ‘vibrations,’ making him squeal. The ‘vibrations’ were Vox using his TV static to make it feel like he was blowing raspberries right into the deer’s sensitive belly. Cackles of static and laughter came from Alastor, unable to let out a coherent sentence.
“YOHOHOU- STHAHAHA- NOHOHOHOH- IHIHIHIHI’M GOHIHIHING- CEHEHEHASE!”
Vox didn’t stop, in fact, he got worse, squeezing and prodding Alastor’s sides as he continued to torture him. He vaguely wondered if the Radio Demon would pass out from all this, and that would be something to see. Until then, however, Vox was going to keep tormenting him until he had his fill.
Alastor’s nerves felt like they were on fire, desperately trashing as best he could to try and escape. He hated this, he hated all of it so much! Being trapped, feeling helpless, especially at the hands of a bastard television!
“Say, Al.” Vox began, ceasing his raspberry assault in favor of raking his claws over Alastor’s stomach, once again emitting small shocks from them. “Imagine the headlines if all of Hell found out you, the big bad Radio Demon, are stupidly fucking ticklish~”
“YOHOHOHOOHHU WOOHOHOHULDN’T- DOOHOHOHON’T YOHOHOHOHU DAHAH-”
“I can see it now. ‘Breaking news! The Radio Demon and Local Hazbin is ticklish! A few well placed pokes and he’s begging for mercy!’ Wouldn’t that be ‘entertaining?’” Vox grinned. “If only I could get my cameras, and well, you would fucking show up on camera.”
As much as Vox would love to continue breaking Alastor, he was a busy man, and Valentino and Velvette were probably going to be looking for him soon. After one more ‘raspberry’ to Alastor’s belly button, he stopped. The wires holding the Radio Demon up soon unceremoniously dropped him, the deer catching his breath.
“Well, this was informative, and entertaining.” Vox hummed, beginning to head out of the hotel. “We should do this again some-”
Vox’s words were cut off as he was suddenly grabbed by shadowy tendrils, slamming him against the wall. Despite how out of it and tired Alastor felt, there was no way he was letting that TV escape after what he did. Slowly, he composed himself, carefully pushing himself off the floor.
“You seem to forget, old pal.” Alastor began, his eyes turning to radio dials. “Turnabout is fair play, and we still have quite some time before Charlie and the others return.”
“Put me down you asshole!” Vox growled, trying to pull himself free.
“Oh no, you see.” Alastor continued, coming over to the trapped Overlord. “When I get my revenge, I get it tenfold. Best you start praying now~”
Alastor was going to savor every single minute of tormenting Vox. He was going to make sure that pompous television knew never to mess with him again.
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Steve doesn’t just rest his head in Eddie’s nap when he’s getting comfy for a nap. He gets Eddie to lay down on his back, and he nuzzles his face into his tummy. Rubbing his face into it, nibbling his waist, blowing raspberries over his belly button and ghosting his fingers over his hips to tickle him, leaving him in breathy giggles. Eddie’s tummy moves up and down through his laughter and Steve chuckles being bounced around a little. When he’s soothed down enough to sleep, Eddie can tell because it’s like all of the hyper energy Steve had for his tummy disappears into sleepily planting gentle kisses under his navel. Eddie just lays there, petting his fingers through Steve’s hair and watches a Lord of the rings until he falls asleep himself. Or Steve wakes up and becomes feral for his tummy all over again. 🍯
#mine#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#steddie#established steddie#steddie imagine#steddie fluff#knismo shit#ticklish!eddie munson#tummy!!#steve harrington headcanon#eddie munson headcanon#steddie headcanon#steddie au#steve harrington au#Eddie Munson au#steddie tickle fic#steddie fluff fic#fluff#I’m obsessed with tummy I’m sorry#I’m not sorry
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Losing the Battle, Winning the War
hello hello! I had a special request from the menace herself, @wishitweresummer, asking me to write Sapnap and George wrecking the hell out of each other. And who am I to say no to that? Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!
Sapnap + George are wrestling when Sapnap makes an interesting discovery. After enduring some harsh cruelty from him, George makes a new discovery of his own
(switch!George / switch!Sapnap : 4K words)
“Give up, Snapmap!” George seethed through his teeth, attempting to maneuver the younger boy into a headlock and letting out a screech when their positions were suddenly flipped.
“Fuck that! No way, pretty boy, you’re going down.” Sapnap fought back, managing to throw an arm around the back of George’s neck and pull him down to waist level instead.
He tightened his grip around the older boy, letting out an evil laugh that bellowed throughout the living room. George let out another yell in frustration, clawing at Sapnap’s arm and wiggling to try and worm his way to freedom. He stomped his foot like a toddler when he realized his efforts were futile, a long whine following the action that made Sapnap burst into another round of giggles. George used the heel of his foot to step on one of Sapnap’s, leaning all of his weight on it and pressing down as hard as he could. The younger boy yelped, ramming his hip into George to throw him off balance and laughing triumphantly when it worked.
“Let GO of me! This- this isn’t fair!” George thrashed harder in Sapnap’s arms, grunting and groaning when nothing he did seemed to loosen the grip he had on him. In his flailing, he managed to grip onto the sensitive skin of Sapnap’s tricep, pinching and squeezing as hard as he could to make him let go. Sapnap screamed out at this, loosening his grip for a moment before shoving his fingers between the bones of George’s ribcage and vibrating them in, making him howl. The headlock kept him folded over, unable to truly protect himself from the intense tickles he was receiving. He swore he was dying.
“NOHOHO! Sahahapnap! Stop!” The begging started immediately as Sapnap’s fingers found his most sensitive rib, pinching and playing with it like it was his new favorite toy. After a few seconds of this, George turned to putty in his hold, letting himself fall into a deadweight and sending both of them to the floor in a heap of giggles.“Gehehet away!” George squealed as he turned onto his tummy to crawl away, only just getting on his hands and knees when Sapnap pushed against his back, sending him crashing to the floor again.
“Oh Georgie! There’s nowhere to run, huh?” Sapnap teased menacingly as he climbed onto George’s thighs, straddling the older boy and positioning his hands over the back of George’s ribs, right where he knew got the best reaction. He gave a test squeeze with his thumbs in the middle of his back, on either side of George’s spine, chuckling to himself when the brunette gasped. Sapnap squeezed again, this time keeping his fingers pressed down and giggling as George kicked his feet rapidly against the ground.
“Nnh…g-get off of mehe, Sapnap!” George commanded, struggling to keep his laughter in and jolting when Sapnap began to rub his thumbs back and forth at a horribly slow pace. He let his forehead fall against the ground, whining as he pressed his lips together and shook his head. Sapnap squeezed once again and George squealed, pushing up on his palms and stretching his arms out until his torso was arched forward, now off the ground.
“What, now you don’t wanna fight anymore cause you’re losing?” Sapnap asked through his giggles, moving his hands to pinch at George’s sides and giggling harder when the elder fell back against the ground, his arms pressed tightly to his sides. The squeezing only increased in speed, finally breaking the dam causing George to cry out. Boisterous giggles were bouncing off the walls of the living room as George writhed against the carpet, Sapnap’s fingers never letting go or relenting.
“Shuhut up!” George reached his hands back to try and grab at Sapnap’s hands, only to scream out when his hands jumped to the sensitive area around the tops of his ribcage. His hands retreated as he pressed his arms back against his sides, letting out a frustrated groan as Sapnap moved his hands back to tickle at the soft skin there. George reached back again, successfully gripping one of Sapnap’s wrists and pulling to try and get it away from his side. Sapnap allowed his wrist to be pulled to give George a false sense of hope, only to dig back under his arms, making George lose his grip.
“Stohop! I hahahate you!” Another attempt at grabbing Sapnap lead him back to the same outcome - getting the life tickled out of his sides. He gave up on trying to stop the tickles, focusing now on trying to block his sides with his arms as he cackled into the carpet.
Sapnap positioned his thumbs back over George’s back ribs as his fingers continued to skitter against his sides, making George screech and buck his hips up off the ground. The force of the Brit’s squirming sent Sapnap falling sideways against the ground, giving George the chance to escape. He jumped to his feet as fast as he could, making a move to run out of the room towards the steps, only to be tackled back down onto the floor by his legs. George’s knees hit the ground first and immediately he attempted to crawl forward. Sapnap quickly got to his knees as well, reaching forward and wrapping his arms around George’s middle before he could get far, yanking him back until George was practically on his lap. His cheeks turned a deep red at the closeness of the two as he squirmed pathetically in Sapnap’s grasp, pulling and scratching at the arms that were holding him.
George barked out a laugh as he was yanked back onto Sapnap’s thighs, not expecting to be manhandled so roughly but loving it regardless. The strong arms adjusted themselves to wrap around George’s own, crossing over his chest to keep his back pressed against Sapnap without much of a choice. He felt a stream of air being blown onto the back of his neck, quickly bringing his shoulders up and tilting his head back slightly to try and get rid of the tingly feeling. He whined, making Sapnap giggle and squeeze him a little tighter.
“This isn’t even fair! I- I can’t move!” George complained, trying to throw himself forward to try and break out of the hold but finding it useless. He felt Sapnap shrug behind him and he rolled his eyes at the action. Another stream of air was blown, this time behind his right ear, heightening his senses and making him burst into giggles. Sapnap moved between ears for a few minutes, giggling along with George as he made the older boy bring the opposite shoulders up and down, unable to stop himself from trying to block the tickling.
“Stohop, idiot!” George whined through his giggles. Sapnap chuckled at his demand, shaking his head even though the brunette couldn’t see him. He blew a stream of air over the back of George’s neck again, making him squeak and raise both shoulders to try and stop the chills from spreading down his spine. It was too late for that, though, and he squirmed violently to the side as he felt the tingling sensation spread down through his back.
“Stop doing this? Okay, I can do something else, no problem!” Sapnap replied happily, sending further chills down George’s back as he giggled nervously. Before he could prepare himself for what Sapnap was planning, he heard a quick intake of air, followed by the feeling of soft lips pressed against the base of his neck, right below his hairline, accompanied by the rough facial hair that was Sap’s beard and mustache. Not even a second later, a huge raspberry was blown onto the sensitive skin, causing him to let out a high pitched shriek before falling into wild cackles. Another squeal was torn from him when immediately after the first raspberry, another was placed in the same spot, this one lasting longer than the previous.
“FUHUHUCK! NOHOHO, ST-STOHOHOP!” Sapnap pulled back at the pleads, falling into a fit of giggles himself at how loud George was laughing. The Brit was trembling, shaking his head quickly back and forth and leaning it back to try and prevent any further raspberries. George had never experienced raspberries on this particular spot, Sapnap quickly found out, and so he had no idea how incredibly ticklish it would feel.
“Geez, Georgie, it’s like I’m killing you!” The younger boy laughed, adjusting his arms quickly to squeeze George’s torso tighter, trying his best to keep the wriggly body in his lap in one spot. George continued to laugh, squealing when he felt teeth connect with the muscle along the dip between his neck and shoulder. He leaned his head as much to the side as he could, but with Sapnap’s head there as a buffer, he was forced to endure the nibbles. When George straightened his head out once more, the skin along the back of his neck now open and vulnerable, Sapnap struck, quickly planting another huge raspberry, this time a bit further down.
“NO NOHOHOHO! NOT AGAIN!” He wailed as he drummed his legs against the ground, pushing up on his heels and trying to launch himself backwards to knock both of them over with the aim of escaping. Sapnap kept his lips against George’s neck as he giggled at the intense reaction once again, brushing his beard slowly against the warm skin and making the elder scream out with a kick. His hands curled into fists, gripping onto the fabric of Sapnap’s basketball shorts and squeezing, trying to expel the ticklish energy he was experiencing but finding no relief in the action.
“Does Dream know about this spot? This is pure gold!” Sapnap asked, the giddiness noticeable in his tone of voice. George shook his head uselessly, not being given any time to respond before Sapnap dove back in, landing two raspberries in quick succession and pulling back again, making George laugh hysterically. “Listen to you! You sound like a little hyena or something!”
“Nohoho, I- I didn’t even knohohow!” The elder whined through his giggles as Sapnap gave him a much needed break, finally able to get a full breath in.
“I didn’t even know, Sap! It weally, weally tickles!” Sapnap mocked George, talking like a toddler to mess with him and making him groan. “Pwease tell my boyfwen Dweam!”
“NAAH! SHUHUT UP!” George let out a scream, shaking his head quickly at the flustering baby talk and trying to drown it out with his own voice. His face was heating up with every stupid pronunciation and it only made him want to get away and hide even more.
“Shut up! I’m too tickwish to tease, Sappy! Pwease stop!” Sapnap continued to mock the elder before latching his mouth back onto the back of George’s neck, this time slightly to the right before blowing another raspberry. The brunette fell into hysterics, trying to push himself forward and away from Sapnap’s tickling but whining when the smaller boy followed, blowing raspberry after raspberry, moving around to different spots on the back of his neck and keeping George tight against his chest. Sapnap wiggled his hands until he successfully had them wedged under George’s arms, poking and prodding and spidering into his armpits to make George scream.
“P-PLEHEHEASE SAP, COME OHON!” George cried out through his laughter, pulling at his arms and trying to wiggle them free. He heard Sapnap giggle behind him and he continued to plant raspberries, occasionally shaking his head back and forth as he did to rub his beard against George’s neck.
It was only when Sapnap’s lips moved slightly to the right and up, directly under his hairline and slightly towards his ear, that it tickled enough for George to get a sudden burst of adrenaline. He managed to move his arms behind him enough to squeeze into the squishy spots above Sapnap’s hip bones, making the younger shriek as he shoved George forward, trying to scramble out from underneath of George to get away. The taller boy spun around quickly, still breathing heavily through his giggles as he pounced on top of Sapnap, knocking him onto his back and straddling his thighs quickly. George grabbed his wrists, pressing them harshly into the carpet below them. Sapnap’s eyes were wide with fear, his cheeks turning bright red as he began to plead through nervous giggles.
“Okay, okahay, George? George! We can…we cahahan talk about this, right buddy?” Sapnap attempted to give him a pathetic pout, hoping he would take pity on him. George gave him a soft smile, squeezing his wrists once to comfort him, and Sapnap let out a sigh of relief. George was going to spare him, he was sure of it!
…Until Sapnap felt his wrists being maneuvered under George’s knees, quickly securing them in place and leaving George’s hands completely free to tickle to his heart's content.
“I don’t really feel like talking.” George stated nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders once before attaching his hands back onto the very ticklish spot above Sapnap’s hips, squeezing and digging in and giggling when Sapnap let out a wail.
Sapnap attempted to buck his hips up, trying his hardest to throw George off balance and knock him down, but the older boy was clearly on a mission to tickle him to tears, and he stayed planted on his thighs. George’s thumbs were drilling into the newly discovered spot, smirking as he watched Sapnap go ballistic underneath him.
“Sappy, Sappy, Sappy. What did I just find?” George teased, giggling when he received a loud growl in response. Sapnap clenched his jaw and threw his head back, eyes squeezed closed as he tried his hardest to hold in his laughter. George noticed this and immediately made him regret it, pressing in harder and drawing circles with his thumbs, scraping along the tops of his hip bones on the downstrokes. Sapnap squealed at this, pulling at his arms as he began to cackle outwardly once more, shaking his head and causing his curls to fly around wildly.
“Get off of mehehe!” Sapnap screeched, tugging at his hands and kicking his feet against the ground. George giggled and shook his head in return, now using all ten of his fingers to scribble over the ticklish area. A sliver of pale skin caught his eye and suddenly his hands were under Sapnap’s shirt, wiggling and tickling and scratching at the bare skin. The younger boy was quickly thrown into hysterics, causing his laughter to jump an octave, coming out raspy and high pitched as his face turned an even deeper shade of red.
“Such a giggly little thing.” George commented to no one in particular, ignoring Sapnap’s pleas in favor of focusing all his attention on the harsh tickling he was delivering. He made sure to press his fingers in as he spidered them, noticing how Sapnap’s body jolted with every swipe. George let his pointer fingers migrate towards the sides of Sap’s tummy, making him squeak through his laughter.
“I’m nohot!” Sapnap argued back as George let his fingers roam over Sapnap’s tummy, gliding his hands up and down the boy’s ribs and letting them dig between each rib. He arched off the carpet as George attacked the muscles there, making him cackle as he crashed back down onto the floor, almost knocking the wind out of himself with the force.
Sapnap let out a laugh that was close to how Dream’s wheeze used to sound while he fought to get his breath back, finally getting in a full inhale while George pulled his fingers back briefly. His eyes flew open when a second later, George’s hands were sliding under his arms, tickling with precision in the center where he knew Sapnap was most sensitive. The younger boy screamed out in a panic, kicking his legs violently before allowing them to curl up, pounding them against George’s lower back with the goal of knocking him off balance so that Sapnap could make his escape.
“Geez, you’re gonna kill him, George!” Sapnap’s head turned quickly towards the doorway of the living room, blushing when he saw Dream leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a huge smile plastered on his face. He pulled at his arms, wanting nothing more than to cover his face and whining when he realized he still couldn’t break free.
“Nah, this is nothing. Here, watch this!” George giggled, shrugging his shoulders and removing his hands from under Sapnap’s arms, only to return back to squeezing at the soft spots above his hip bones and making him scream. “Dream, did you know about this?”
Sapnap squeezed his eyes shut as George tormented the area once again, this time using more pressure with quicker movements, driving him mad with laughter. He brought his knees up again, alternating between hitting George’s back with them and slamming his feet against the ground. He shook his head and balled his hands into fists under George’s knees, all his strength and hope of escape disappearing quickly the more he was tickled.
“What?! No! How did you even find that?” Dream’s eyes widened as he walked closer to the two boys, standing over Sapnap and watching as George took him apart with a few well placed scribbles and squeezes. Sapnap could feel both of their eyes on him but refused to open his own to stare back, feeling the embarrassment exploding within him and not wanting to risk getting even more flustered than he already was.
“This little idiot tried to challenge me, and look at him now! He’s so fucked! Just laughing his head off like the wittle baby he is while I tickle him!” Sapnap cringed when George used the baby voice again, making his nose scrunch up as he turned his head away from the two, attempting to hide his face against his shoulder and the floor.
“I ahaham not! Fuhuhck off, George!” He complained through his laughter, his blush blooming wildly when he heard the two laughing above him. George rolled his eyes at the denial, squeezing into the spot with even more pressure and causing Sapnap’s laughter to jump up an octave.
“I’m winning! I’m literally winning!” George exclaimed through his own laughter, looking up at Dream and giggling more when the blonde nodded his head in agreement. “Dream, look at this idiot. What a loser!”
“Sap, you’re really going through it, huh, baby?” Dream kneeled down beside the two boy’s, reaching an arm forward to run a hand through the tangled mess that were Sapnap’s curls in an attempt to help soothe him. He wanted nothing more than to deny it, to shake his head and tell them no, but he was too lost in the feeling of Dream’s hand gently scratching at his scalp, melting him even as the torturous tickles continued.
“He is! He really is. What an idiot, trying to fight me. He should know by now, right, Dream?” George looked to Dream again for approval, making Dream laugh at how excited he was to be destroying their best friend so easily. He nodded in response, turning his attention back to Sapnap, noticing the tears that were threatening to spill from his eyes at the intensity of his laughter.
“He should! He absolutely should,” Dream spoke, continuing to nod as he used his thumb to wipe the tears from Sapnap’s eyes. “But I do think he’s at his limit, and you should probably let him go.”
“But Dream-”
“Look at him, George! He’s about to cry! Our poor boy is way too ticklish for this.” Dream insisted, a slight hint of playfulness in his voice as he gently gripped onto George’s wrists, making a move to pull them away from Sapnap’s body. George huffed in fake annoyance, rolling his eyes once more as he finally allowed his hands to be moved.
“Fiiiiine, I guess he’s had enough.” George whined, climbing off of Sapnap’s lap and kneeling on the opposite side from Dream. He watched as Dream ran his hands over the bright red skin of his lower tummy and hips, palms pressed flat as he rubbed the ghost tickles away. Sapnap’s eyes were still squeezed shut, his hands now covering his face as he continued to laugh the rest of his giggles away, melting into Dream’s touch and appreciating the kind gesture. After a few minutes he was finally able to calm down, moving his hands from his face to push himself into a sitting position, crossing his legs in front of him and shooting George a death glare.
“Oh come on, Sapnap. You can’t just do what you did to me and expect to get away with it.” George commented, reaching a hand forward to poke twice at his cheek. Sapnap shook his head and batted the hand away quickly, growling in response.
“Whatever, you suck.” Sapnap replied, voice raspy and tired as he scooted himself towards Dream, letting out a contented sigh when the older boy wrapped him up in his arms and hugged him to his chest.
“Wait…what did he do to you, George?” Dream’s attention was now on George, and Sapnap could feel his smirk forming from where he had buried his face against the blonde’s neck.
“...W-What?” George stammered out at the question, not expecting for Dream to turn it around on him after what he just walked in on.
“What did he do, George? What did he do that was so bad it made you wreck him like that?”
Sapnap lifted his head from Dream’s neck, looking towards George and bursting into giggles when he saw how wide the older boy’s eyes were and how red his cheeks had become. He raised his eyebrows as he waited for George to answer Dream, giggling harder when he kept opening and closing his mouth as he tried to get his brain to cooperate.
“I can tell you, Dream!” Sapnap exclaimed happily, unwrapping himself from Dream’s arms and sitting up on his knees.
“NO! No, that’s- that’s not necessary!” George fought back, shaking his head quickly and looking between the two of them with pleading eyes. Dream giggled along with Sapnap, enjoying how quickly the tables had turned on the elder.
“Actually, I can just show you,” Sapnap flashed George a sinister grin that made his stomach flip, nervous giggles suddenly pouring out of him as he held his arms out to keep the distance between them. “Dream? Do you mind?”
“Not at all!”
“NOHO!” George made a move to stand up, pushing himself off the ground for a second before his shins were grabbed by strong arms, sending him crashing back against the carpet, facedown on his stomach. He couldn’t help but groan at the memory of this happening earlier with Sapnap, making him blush harder as he found himself in the same situation now. He screamed when he felt himself being pushed down, one of Dream’s hands pressed between his shoulder blades keeping him in place. Sapnap was suddenly in his line of vision, the smirk still spread across his face as he leaned down.
“Poor kitten,” Sapnap pouted, making George yell out in frustration at the nickname. “Looks like someone’s not winning anymore, huh?”
George whined before burying his face against the carpet, refusing to look at Sapnap any longer and biting back a giggle when he felt a finger swipe across the back of his neck. He heard the two laugh at the way his body squirmed at the action, groaning when it was repeated two more times. Soon, the giggles were flowing steadily, more fingertips tracing at the back of his neck without mercy.
“Okay Dream, hold him steady. This is where it gets really bad for him.” He heard Sapnap warn Dream.
“No- noho please! Please noho- NOHOHO!” George thrashed as much as he could beneath them, kicking his legs and pounding his fists against the ground as panicked laughter continued to spill out into the room. Despite the protests from George, the raspberries continued, sending him into hysterics almost immediately. His laughter bounced off the walls of the living room as the two boy’s lovingly took him apart, showing him exactly who the real winner was.
#lee!george#lee!sapnap#ler!george#ler!sapnap#ler!dream#kind of????#it's implied okay#thank u cal for naming this fic :D#and for reading it back for me!!!!#summer baby I hope u love this <3#I had a lot of fun figuring out how I wanted them to torture each other#did I mention this was georges first time getting back of the neck raspberries? :D cause it was!#anyways.......this is kind of cruel but Im not sorry about it#mushie fics#mcyt tickle#my stuff
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Oh, To Die By Your Hands
Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.
Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D
[~*~]
“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy.
Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”
A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”
“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”
“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”
“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”
“That is right, that is right.”
They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.
It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to.
Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.
Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.
And yet…
Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core.
Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did.
Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son.
If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.
“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”
So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.
Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”
He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.
Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him.
“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby.
“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.”
“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”
“We are.”
Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.
“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”
The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him.
He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.
But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.
“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”
“No. It’s… the other.”
Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”
Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”
Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.
“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”
“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”
“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”
Oh.
Oh.
Yeah, that… that made sense.
This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.
It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.
But…
“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”
“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”
“Do you promise?”
Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”
Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.
Maybe… If it was him.
He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall
“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well…
Talk. About stuff.
“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”
(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)
Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”
“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”
(It doesn’t matter.)
“Nah.”
Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”
“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”
“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire.
His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”
“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”
Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.
“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”
“Oh, you think so?”
Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble.
“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”
Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”
Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice.
Cozy.
Warm.
Tickly.
Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.
Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.
(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)
The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.
He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.
Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.
He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.
“Oh, is it my turn now?”
Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”
Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.
“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”
“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”
That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”
“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”
“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”
Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.
“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”
Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.
“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer.
Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”
“Pac…”
But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.
A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.
Then he heard it, low as a whisper.
“Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?”
He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this.
“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”
The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”
“Really?”
“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”
“P-pac, come on…”
The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.
“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”
Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from.
Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.
“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.
“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”
Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.
He waited.
Waited.
Nothing.
A kiss was pressed on his forehead.
He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.
“Oi, Fitch.”
“Roi, Pa-ACK!”
Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next.
Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.
It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.
“You were saying, Fitch?”
Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.
“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”
The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap.
Fit was the one who broke it.
“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”
“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”
The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him.
“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”
“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.”
“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”
“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”
Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him.
“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”
Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.
But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.
Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.
“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers.
“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”
“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”
“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain.
Damn, he was really, really gay.
“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”
With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.
“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter.
His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.”
“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance.
Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”
“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator.
The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.
All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.
Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.
“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.
“Shuhuhut up!”
Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.
Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.
“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”
The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.
“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”
Oh.
Oh.
Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.
“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)
The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck.
Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.
Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.
A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable.
Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.
A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.
“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!)
“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”
Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.
“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.”
The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval.
Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”
“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”
The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?”
He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.
Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”
Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.
He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.
Fit chuckled.
Maybe Pac was right.
Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill.
Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.
#I couldn't help myself. I just HAD to make Pac's accent getting stronger when he is being tickled. I JUST HAD TO.#One day I will write a tickle fic where someone learn the word 'cosquinha' and keep teasing the brazilians about it that day is not today#Because I Would Die. Fall on the floor completely dead.#Fit: I'm a monster Pac // Pac twirling his hair giggling kicking his legs: that man could destroy me hehehe#Sometimes I worry for their mental health#Fit: *is silly* // Pac: *internal non stopping gay screaming*#Pac: a // Fit: You're absolutely right#qsmp tickles#qsmp tickling#Switch!Fit#Switch!Pac#Ticklish!Fit#Ticklish!Pac#Kanene's fic#Kanene's fanfic#Still not over Pac saying that he would kiss marry and kill Fit and Fit answering with 'I like my man dangerous' like GET OUTTTT#I'm going to become homphobic in the end of this I am telling you I can no longer take this I had to keep pausing their date because-#-*I* KEPT GETTING GIDDY AND EMBARRASSED LIKE GET OUT OF HEREEEEE YOU'RE MADDLY IN LOVE YEAH WE KNOWWW#Fun fact here Fit prefers to tickle attack his loved ones with raspberries and stuff because he doesn't trust his hands to be gentle :D#Sorry :')
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~ Some Father-son bonding ~
(A/N: I LOVE THIS ITERATION OF SONIC SM- ESPECIALLY HOW THE WRITERS WROTE THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEM HIM AND TOM FOR THE FIRST AND SECOND FILM. I- SOBSSSS. I LOVE THESE TWO SM SO U KNOW I NEEDED TO MAKE A FIC ABT THEM 💞💕💖💗😭!!!)
Lee: Sonic🦔💙
Ler: Tom🍩🤎
Warnings: A little bit of angst in the beginning, harmful stimming (I’ll tag where it starts and ends) and tickling. If you are uncomfortable with any of the following please feel free to keep scrolling down :)
Summary: It’s been a couple months since the epic battle between Sonic and Eggman. The electric blue hedgehog could finally relax…right? Well…yes and no. Sonic has been living with the Wachowski’s for those couple months and it’s been great! But…he keeps feeling weird. His stomach gets fluttery and he can’t stop laughing for hours at a time…it's…really weird. Maybe he should talk to someone about this…
(A/N: Parent and child relationship. Nothing more. Nothing less. It sickens me that I have to put that in there (bc it should be obvious) but you can never be too sure…I just needed to make it clear that they love each other as family.)
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Sonic was sitting up on his beanbag and playing with the rubix cube Maddie gave him about a week ago. He was dressed in a sweatshirt, a gift from Tom that was like 3 times his own size, going almost to his knees and blue fuzzy socks. He groaned as he finished solving the cube again for probably the 12th time now. Speaking of which, you’re probably wondering where he got the rubix cube from…and before you ask, no he did not steal it. It was quite the opposite actually.
Maddie noticed that Sonic was very fidgety at times and often pulled at his quills when he was nervous about something, or completely bored. So she decided to go shopping and buy the blue hedgehog some fidget toys. And by “some”, Sonic means like about 60-70 at least…he hasn’t counted but by the looks on how freaking heavy the box was when she gifted it to him, his estimation probably wasn’t that far off.
Sonic groaned again, dropping the rubix cube he had in his hands and placed it on his desk, making sure to put it down delicately so he didn’t accidentally dent it; out of all of the fidget toys this one was Sonic’s favorite and he didn’t want it getting ruined under any circumstances. The hedgehog flopped on his beanbag, looking up at the ceiling and putting his pillow to his face before abruptly groaning loudly for like the 100th time, but at least now it was muffled by the pillow.
Sonic wanted something but he didn’t know what…and this feeling was starting to get on his nerves.
Well- no- scratch that. He did- he did know what he wanted. But there’s no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna tell anyone about it.
There- there was this feeling in his stomach, but he didn’t know what the literal hell it was, and it’s been eating him from the inside since he’s come to Green Hills. His stomach felt fluttery, almost as if there were butterflies instead of intestines- but not in a bad way! In a very weird, confusing, nice way? If that makes sense? And another thing, he can't seem to stop giggling to himself. Which is odd. Because he didn’t even hear a joke or anything! He was just…giggling. Like what? But most importantly, he was craving physical affection apparently??? Ugh. See why he wasn’t gonna tell anyone about this feeling? Or…whatever this was?
Sonic looked at his phone- not far from where he was lying down on his beanbag. He remembers Maddie saying every time she left before work in the morning that if he needed anything, to text or call her…
This is probably what she meant.
But he didn’t want to bother her. Sonic knew how important Maddie’s job was and he didn’t want to make it more stressful. Besides, what was she supposed to say to her coe-working people if Sonic called or texted? Oh! Sorry! The over-sized hedgehog I have living in my house wants to talk about this weird feeling he’s feeling! Hm? Oh, what feeling you ask? He doesn’t quite know exactly!
Yeah. Thanks but no thanks. Sonic could handle this weird feeling on his own. Yep. He could totally handle this weird new feeling by himself. Uh-huh. He’s got this.
…
Maddie…Maddie wouldn’t mind…right?
…
Oh fuck it.
Sonic grabbed his phone and unlocked it, immediately going through his contacts to find Maddie- which wasn't hard. He only had two contacts: her and Tom.
✨💖The Magnificent Marvelous Maddie💖✨
Today at 1:38 p.m.
Hey Maddie
If uh
If you’re not busy…can I ask you a question?
Sonic turned his phone off and put it next to him and after a couple seconds of waiting the blue hedgehog immediately regretted sending those three texts to Maddie. She’s probably busy anyway. Sonic could figure out this feeling by himself-
PING!
Sonic almost jumped out of his seat at the sudden loud sound coming from his phone. He really needs to figure out how to turn that sound down…he can feel it still ringing in his ears. He turned on his phone to see a text notification- 3 actually- from the one and only Maddie Wachowski…
Well that was fast.
Hi, sweetie!
And of course you can ask me a question ☺️!
What’s on your mind, honey?
Sonic exhaled the breath he didn’t even notice he was holding in, unlocking his phone and going into messages to properly text her.
I’ve been…
I’ve been feeling weird lately- and idk why
Ever since I’ve come to Green Hills to stay w/ u guys I’ve felt this way…and idk what it is and it’s been pissing me off lately.
So I was hoping…maybe you could help me figure out what it is?
Of course!
Could you maybe try to describe it?
The thing is idk how to!
I just- my stomach feels all fluttery
Not in a bad way tho! Not like a roller-coaster fluttery or about-to-go-on-stage-and-sing-in-front-of-millions-upon-millions-of-people fluttery
But like- a good fluttery I guess??? I just feel rlly giggly and stuff and it’s weird- but weird in a good way…
…
That doesn’t make any sense, does it?
No no! I think I understand, sweetie
And I think I can help 😊
WAIT- HUH???
YOU CAN???
Well, not me exactly
As of I’m not home right now
But I’m sure Tom can help!
Wait what-?
How can Tom help w/ this I’m so confused 😭😭😭
Trust me
In the past, I’ve had the feeling you’re feeling right now and Tom is the best person to help with it- so just tell him what you told me!
Uh…alright!
I guess I could do that
Thanks Maddie
It’s no problem, Sonic sweetie 😊
Okay, thanks again- I’m gonna go talk to him now
Bye!
Okay bye! Love you 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰❤️❤️❤️❤️☺️☺️☺️
Love you too 😗❤️
Sonic got up from his beanbag chair, put his phone inside of the desk and opened the hatch downstairs. Sonic quietly tiptoed down the stairs, making sure to dodge the places in the steps that he knew squeaked if he stepped too hard, peeking over the stairway to see Tom watching TV- and from the looks of it it looked like some sheriff documentary- he’s been watching those a lot lately…but Sonic doesn’t understand the hype. The sheriff’s on the TV could be talking about some random paint splatter on the ground and Tom would be hooked.
“I can hear you trying to be quiet up there, Sonic.” Tom chuckled, still facing the TV as he went to grab the remote on the armrest and pause the TV. The brunette turned to Sonic with a “hah! Caught ya” grin, a grin Sonic knew all too well in his last months of living with him.
The hedgehog sighed in defeat of being caught, walking down the stairs and going next to the couch Tom was sitting at. The brunette had a grey/gray shirt on with a light plaid print jacket, matching with some black pants and white socks.
“Uh…’sup, Tom.” Sonic said as casually as he could before leaning on the couches’ arm rest. The brunette eyed Sonic suspiciously, raising one eyebrow as he crossed his arms. Sonic started to sweat under the older man’s glare, whistling and looking anywhere but Tom’s direction.
“What did you do, Sonic?” Tom sighed, taking the blue hedgehogs’ sudden nervousness as a sign of him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. “I didn't do anything!” Sonic said, mimicking Tom’s expression and pose. The two looked at each other in the pose for a solid minute or two before laughing at their silliness.
“So what do you need, little man?” Tom asked. Sonic cleared his throat, fiddling with his hands and began looking at his feet because honestly? Staring at the ground was much much more easier than looking at Tom at the moment. “I just…I figured we could- y’know- hang out I guess?” The blue hedgehog started, “Some uhm…y’know some father-son bonding activities…?” Sonic said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, still looking down on the ground.
There was an uncomfortable silence between the two and Sonic didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit. And the more the silence dragged on the more the blue hedgehog started to second guess himself about coming down to the living room.
Pfft, “Father-son bonding?” He really has reached a whole new level of patheticness, huh? Why would Tom want to spend time with him? He’s just keeping him around because he pity’s him. He doesn’t actually enjoy his company. Just wait until Tom gets tired of him, then he’ll be all alone again-
Oh this was a mistake.
This was such SUCH a mistake.
***Harmful stimming starts***
The hedgehog started lightly pulling on his quills out of nervousness with one hand while his other hand started tapping the side of his leg, “O-Or whatever. If- If you want to of course. I don’t want it to seem like you're being forced, hah!” Sonic said, letting out the best fake laugh he could muster before speaking again. “I-If you’re busy- y’know….with, uhh, you’re sheriff stuff…that’s fine as well. I don’t- I don’t care.” Sonic started slowly backing away from Tom, still pulling on his quills- but a tad bit harder this time as his hand tapping on his leg started increasing faster.
Sonic could hear faint talking in front of him but he couldn’t focus on it. The only thing he needed to focus on was leaving before he embarrassed himself more. “Y’know what? I-I should go, you’re probably doing something busy anyway, uh…lemme get out of your hair, man.” Sonic grimaced, turning away and going to the steps, but before he could walk any farther Tom grabbed both his hands gently.
***Harmful stimming stops***
“Hey…let’s not do that, okay? You’re hurting yourself….” Tom said softly, holding Sonic’s hands in his own as he kneeled down to try and match Sonic’s height. “Where are your fidget toys?” Tom gently asked, trying his best to keep the questions short and sweet to not overwhelm the younger. These types of moments have happened before in the Wachowski’s house; when Sonic started to panic, asking him too many questions would get him even more upset, so when this happened they kept the questions to a minimum and straight to the point. “I…I left them upstairs…” Sonic mumbled.
“Oh. That’s okay…uh…here. Sit down on the couch for a sec.” The brunette said as he picked up Sonic and sat him on the couch. Rubbing his head affectionately before walking away to the kitchen rummaging through the kitchen shelves before coming out with a blue squishy ball. He came back to Sonic who gratefully accepted the ball. Tom sat next to Sonic as the younger leaned onto his shoulder, taking another deep breath and exhaling, muscles once tense now relaxed.
“Sorry about that…” Sonic said, squeezing the stress ball harder and glaring at it as if it stole his last chili dogs. Well this wasn’t how he was planning this conversation with Tom to go. The older looked at Sonic sadly before sighing and turning his gaze looking straight ahead to the paused TV. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, kid. It’s alright.” Tom said. The blue hedgehog hummed at the comic, taking a couple more deep breathers.
There was that uncomfortable silence again, the one that Sonic despised. “I just…I dunno. I feel weird…?” Sonic said, squeezing his squishy fidget ball at a faster pace this time. The older didn't say anything but completely turned to Sonic, letting him know he was listening. The younger somewhat shrunk under the older mans’ look, feeling a tad bit pressure to go on but decided to ignore it. He wanted- no. He needed to get this off of his chest.
“Ever since I’ve come to stay with you and Maddie after the defeat of Dr. Robotnik, I’ve felt…odd. I feel tingly, and fluttery and it’s just…weird, because I’ve never felt like this before, ever. I talked to Maddie about it in text and she said to talk to you about it…so uh…here I am!” Sonic sheepishly said.
Tom chuckled, “Is that why you said you wanted some Father-son bonding?” The blue hedgehog blushes at the mention, nodding his head. The older one chuckled once again, rubbing Sonic’s head affectionately, “I’d be happy to help you with this fluttery-feeling, buddy!” The blue hedgehog quickly looked at Tom as his ears went up in surprise.
“Wait. Really?” Sonic asked. “Of course! But before I do, I gotta ask you a question…” Tom said waiting a dramatically long time before continuing his sentence. “Are you ticklish?” The older asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow up. There was a silence between the two, but only this time this one was in complete and utter confusion. The younger ones' eyebrows creased together trying to put together what he was just asked, “Um…gesundheit?”
“What? No, kid.Tickling. Y'know, being ticklish?” Tom said as he wiggled his fingers near Sonic’s face only to be met by a confused look. “I dunno what you are talking about, man…” Sonic chuckled, now relaxing in the hug as he chuckled at the older mans’ surprised face.
Tom’s dumbfounded expression slowly turned to a soft, genuine smile, then it slowly turned into an evil grin. This kid had no idea what tickling is!
…
This kid had no idea what tickling is…
Oh Tom is gonna change that very quickly.
“Uh…Tom? You okay over there? Your face kinda looks like that green person we watched on Christmas…” Sonic said, wincing at the memory of the man’s genuine expression slowly slowly turning into an evil one. Tom stopped with his evil grin (for now at least), and raised his left eyebrow in amusement. “You mean The Grinch?” He asked, laughing when the blue hedgehog nodded happily at the familiar name. “Yeah, yeah! That dude!” Sonic smiled.
“I need you to stay perfectly still for this to work though, okay?” Tom said in the best serious voice he could muster, but probably not as serious as he thought since right after he stopped talking Sonic started laughing a bit. “Pfft, whatever you say, Donut Lord.” Sonic snickered, hopping into Tom’s lap facing sideways.
Tom then began to lightly scratch along Sonic’s sides, the reaction was almost immediate as the blue hedgehog began to squirm lightly and grab at the brunette’s wrists; but not pushing them away. Sonic held his breath; trying not to laugh but that plan started to crumble as Tom began to poke at the youngers’ sides; more quickly than he was before. Sonic let out a tiny shriek before descending into little giggles, kicking his legs and shaking his head. Tom smiled at the adorable sight.
“Whahat? Hehey-! Hehey wahahait! Whahat ahahare yohou dohoing?” Sonic asked while becoming a giggly squirmy mess. Tom chuckled at the youngers’ question, making sure to go easy on him since this was his first time being tickled, so he’d start off with light tickles…for now at least.
“I’m tickling you, silly! Since it does seem to me that you happen to be a bit ticklish~!” Tom cooed, now using two hands to tase around Sonic’s sides. Sonic threw his head back, suddenly lost in a puddle of giggles and fell on the couch, but still in Tom’s grasp as the brunette tickled up and down his sides. “Whahat ahare you tahahalking about?” Sonic giggly asked, his legs lightly stomped on the couch as some pillows fell in the process.
“Hmm, hold on…” Tom said as he grabbed his phone from his jacket pocket, typing up something but making sure to keep the blue hedgehog in a giggly squirmy mess. “Ah, okay. Goggle states this: Tickling is the act of touching a part of a body in a way that causes involuntary-“ “Ihihi dohohon’t knohow whahat thahat meeheeans!” Sonic whined interrupting Tom, shaking his head back and forth giggling up a storm in the older mans’ lap. “You didnt even let me finish!” Tom laughed, moving one hand to tickle Sonic’s neck while the other still tickled his side.
“PFFT- nAhAHAH! GeHEt ohOUT ohohOHOF theHEhehere!” Sonic giggly demanded, still holding Tom’s wrist as he scrunched up his shoulders. The older man chuckled before digging both of his hands in both sides of the blue hedgehog’s neck, fingers fluttering up, down, left, and right. Sonic’s feet drummed on the couch, trying to make a daring escape but anytime he was even a bit close to leaving, Tom would poke Sonic’s sides, leaving the blue hedgehog to be an adorable giggly mess. “Stahay still!” Tom playfully scolded.
“THIhihIHIs ihihis soHO weeheeird!” The hedgehog giggled, his face beginning to turn a light red. And honestly, if Tom could start crying, he would- out of happiness of course. This was to fucking darn cute.
“How many ribs do you think you have, Sonic?” Tom asked as he held both of Sonic’s arms up against the couch, trying his best to compose himself from not crying from the younger ones’ adorable reactions to the pokes. “Mahaddie sahahaid weehee hahave twehenty-fohour; twehehelve ohon eeheeach sihihide!” Sonic giggly answered, as he remembered Maddie did a walk-through on the human body and how many bones it has.
“Hm…you sure? Maybe I should count them for you…” Tom didn’t even spare the giggly blue hedgehog a second to protest as he pressed his thumb into the lowest rib on the right side of Sonic’s ribcage, kneading and circling at a very very slow pace against the artificial bone. Sonic screeched at the sudden sensation against his ribs, kicking his legs a bit faster as Tom slowly slowly slowly began to “count his ribs”.
“One…two…three…” Tom counted aloud, remaining on a rib for about 5 seconds before moving up to a different one. Sonic lurched in Tom’s lap, attempting to pry himself out by pushing at Tom’s wrists but only caused the older to pin up his arms and continue kneading at his ribs. “NahAHA! WahahHAHAIT, plehHEHEase!” Sonic whined throughout his frantic cries of laughter. “Ihi sahAHAId iHi hahaHAVE tweHEHEnty foHOUR!”
“I'm just double checking!” Tom innocently said as if he wasn’t completely wrecking the boy in his lap at the moment. The blue hedgehog squirmed and squealed at the tickly feeling at his ribs, being unable to do anything but just take it. This went on for a couple more numbers but then Tom suddenly stopped “counting” Sonic’s ribs, giving the kid another breather before hatching another evil plan. “Wait, what number was I on, Sonic?”
“Tohohom! Yohou lihihiterally ohonly counted toohoo sihihix-!”
“Oh, well. I lost count! Guess I have to start all over again~!
Sonic froze in place, laughter now raising an octave as he helplessly squirmed in Tom’s grasp. “WahAHaH- waHahaHAIT *snort* nOHo dahHa- *snort* dohOHOHOn’t!” Sonic snorted, descending into a puddle of maddening cackles feeling the fluttery feeling again. So this was the feeling he was feeling…? He’d have to ask Tom later, when he’s not getting tickled to pieces.
“Awh~! That’s so cute~! You snort when you laugh?” Tom cooed, wiggling his fingers near the blue hedgehog's ribs but very very close to touching him. Sonic’s laughter became more frantic and loud, squirming underneath Tom, and it's not like he could defend himself either! His arms were pinned up! This entire situation just screamed “unfair”. “NahaHAO! IHI *snort* doHOHon’t!” Sonic giggly said, knowing that- yes. Yes he did snort when he laughed, he did just a couple seconds ago…but no way in all of Green Hills he was gonna admit it, especially in this situation.
“Oho really? What was that adorable noise you made just then, hmm?” Tom smugly asked. “YohOu’re heehEEARihing thihIHIngs…” Tom fondly rolled his eyes as he pinched and kneaded Sonic’s ribs, leaving absolutely no bone left out from his tickle torture. Sonic threw his head back and cackled like a madman, snorting every now and again as he squirmed like a worm, trying to stop the ticklish sensation at his ribs.
“NAHAHAO! DAHAHAD *snort* PLEHEASE!” Sonic cried. Tom’s eyes widened at the name title the younger gave, not sure if the blue hedgehog meant to say it, but was very honored and happy at the mention. It made his heart melt. “Please what, Sonic? Pleaseeeeee keep tickling you?” Tom smugly teased, grin widening as he saw Sonic’s face heat up in embarrassment. Guess he’s weak to the T-word, huh? Oho I can and will use that to my advantage…
“DAHAHA- *snort* OHOHO MY GOHOD! STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING THAHAT!” Sonic yelled as he shook his head back and forth. “Stop saying what, exactly? Tickle~? Ticklish~? Tickled~? Or do you want me to simply stop talking? Which one?” Tom laughed. “YEHEHES!” Sonic cried, not even completely knowing what he just said ‘yes’ to- he was too lost in his own laughter. Tom stopped tickling Sonic, letting him have one last breather before the final kill.
“Ever heard of raspberries, Sonic?” Tom asked, knowing that he the blu hedgehog has, but probably not the ones he’s talking about. “Lihihike thehe fruhuhuit?” Sonic giggly asked. “Nope! Here, lemme show you…” Tom said as he blew a raspberry on the youngers’ tummy causing him to absolutely howl in laughter.
“OHO MY *snort* GAAAHAHAD WAHAHAIT! WAHAHAIT!” Sonic screamed, completely not prepared for this new tickly feeling on his stomach…and why did it sound so freaking funny??? That was just gonna make him laugh more! “Wait for what Sonic~?” Tom teased as he blew more raspberries on his tummy, and with his free and scribbling up and down Sonic’s ribs.
“WAHAHAIT- *snort* IHI *snort* DOHON’T DOOHOO THAHAHAT!” Sonic cried, blue sparks suddenly forming on the kids’ quills, sparkling here and there but some going off of his quills and onto the carpet floor, disappearing. Sonic cackled in the older Tom’s lap, the blue lightning on his quills adding a new ticklish sensation on him.
“Huh. Well they do say you learn new things everyday…” Tom mumbled, watching some of the lighting sparks fall off of the younger ones quills. “PLEHEHEASE! IHIT’S *snort* TIHIHICKLISH!” Sonic screamed, more tiny little blue sparks flying off of his quills and onto the floor. Tom chuckled at the little blue hedgehogs’ reactions, moving down to Sonic’s lower belly as he began to lightly flutter his fingers around it.
“I think you mean ‘it tickles’, bud.” Tom said into Sonic’s tummy, chuckling. Tom was the sheriff of Green Hills- not the sheriff of grammar; at least last time Sonic checked. Tom began to blow more raspberries all over the little blue hedgehog’s stomach, making sure to add a few nibbles now and again to keep the younger in stitches- which worked out really well on Tom’s part. Sonic’s laughter became more high pitched and loud, snorting more frequently as the older started to raspberry and nibble his stomach.
“OHOHO MY GOHOD *snort* WHATEVER!” Sonic screamed as Tom began to switch between his lips and teeth nibbling mercilessly at Sonic’s tummy leaving the poor blue hedgehog in absolute hysterics.
Tom dug his fingers in the blue hedgehogs underarms.And Sonic screamed. The hedgehog's feet were kicking probably about a million miles per hour, just looking like a complete and utter blur while the blue sparks on Sonic’s quills multiplied.
“So~! I think I found your most ticklish spot, huh~?” Tom chuckled, lightly scratching his fingers in Sonic’s underarms, making sure to dodge the little sparks of blue lightning coming off of Sonic’s quills- which he knew tickled the younger even more due to how much he was laughing. Sonic screamed underneath the brunette’s grasp, trying his best to not kick him in the face but the task being very very hard as his feet were kicking around a million miles per hour.
“NOHOHO- *snort* DAHAHAH! DOHOHON’T!” Sonic howled, shaking his head back and forth while the heels of his feet dug into the couch. Tom, chuckled, now scribbling and scratching in Sonic’s underarms, “I’m barely even touching you!” Tom laughed, almost as hard as Sonic as he began to pick up the pace with his scribbling.
“STAHAHA! *snort* NAHAHA- *snort* PLEHEHEA- *snort* DAHAHAHAD!” Sonic screamed, as happy tears started forming in his eyes which Tom took as a sign that Sonic has enough tickles for today. “Alright, alright! Just say Uncle.” Tom calmly said as if Sonic wasn’t screaming his head off. “WHAHA- *snort* WHAHAT?!
“Juhust say Uncle, kiddo-“ Tom said as he accidentally hit a very ticklish spot in Sonic’s underarm causing the younger to let out a girl-like squeal.
“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY! UHUHUNCLE!”
Tom stopped tickling Sonic; letting the kid have a breather and putting him into a tight embrace. The blue hedgehog giggled softly in the hug as he melted into the touch. “You okay?” Tom chuckled, smirking at the younger who was still giggling from the tickles from before. Sonic nodded, wiping away his happy tears with his hand still giggling a bit. “So~, I’m Dad now, huh? What happened to being ‘too cool for your human parental names’?” Sonic blushed, pulling up his hoodie and sinking deeper into Tom’s chest. “Shuhut ihit….”
“I really don’t mind you calling me Dad, bud.” Tom smiled. “Wahait whahat…? Reheally?” Sonic asked in genuine confusion looking up at the older with shiny eyes- Tom swore Sonic’s pupils had stars in them at that moment. “Yeah, I don’t mind.” Tom confirmed, patting Sonic’s back. Sonic’s eyes glistened a bit but the younger one soon wiped them. “Cool…”
“So…that's called tickling?” The blue hedgehog asked.
“Mhm.”
“So…you tickled me?”
“Yep.”
“Huh.” Sonic said, not being able to say anything more than that. “How’s that fluttery feeling in your stomach doing?” Tom asked. “Fine, it's doing just fine.” Sonic smiled as Tom smiled back, rubbing his head affectionately and chuckling.
“Let's go grab you some water, kiddo. And how about we make some cupcakes after that-“ Tom wasn’t even able to finish his sentence as the blue hedgehog excitedly ran to the kitchen chugging a glass of water and putting out ingredients to make the cupcakes. Tom chuckled, walking over to Sonic to join him.
Tom definitely had to make a note to tell Maddie about his later, but as of right now he was going to bake some cupcakes with his son. And if they burn down the house in the process, oh well…they both can try coming up with a good excuse to tell Maddie as to why the house is in ashes.
——————————————————————————————————
RAAAAAAH THROWS THIS FATHER-SON SHIT AT U 💖💞💞💞💗✨✨
I LOVE THESE TWO GOOFBALLS SMMMMMM THEY MEAN SM TO MEEEEEE😭😭😭💙🤎. But anyway, hope you all enjoyed it!!! I do have a couple more WIP fics on the way that r almost finished and a gift fic for someone as well which is ALSO almost done so be sure to look out for those :)
❗️❗️❗️ALSO DON'T FORGET TO DRINK WATER. ITS FLAVOURLESS BUT ITS GOOD FOR U SO DRINK IT PLZ❗️❗️❗️
#OK-#TAG TIME.#There is a LOT of explaining that imma do so buckle up#So I HC Sonic in the live action movies (2020 and 2022) to have ADHD#And he gets very fidgety a lot#Sometimes when he’s stressed or upset he pulls on his quills (like pulling hair basically) so Maddie decided to get him fidget toys to help#Anytime he’s stressed he just uses them#(Am I projecting Ah-HA. Ofc not…)#And Tom and Maddie KNOW that Sonic doesn’t just like being in one place so they put different fidget toys around the house#And yeah-#Ik that Sonic called Tom “Dad” at the end of the 2nd movie-#BUT~#I just wanted it to be a couple months after the 1st movie bc I thought the plot would make more sense :3#RAAAAH#I’ll explain more I promise lol- I needs to make a whole ass doc or sumthin damn#Also sorry it’d taken so long for a fic 😭😭😭#My WIP’s r almost done I swear- I just need to pizz-azz them#Sonic the Hedgehog#Sonic the Hedgehog Movie#Sonic the Hedgehog Movie tickle#Lee!Sonic#Ler!Tom#Sonic the Hedgehog has ADHD#Sonic the Hedgehog is neurodivergent#Fight me on that.#Holy moly thats a lot of tags lmao
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