#joyfulmoon

TickleTober 2025 - Day 8: Worst Spot

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Series: An Unlikely Friendship, Forged in Tickles (Part 3) || Prev/Next

Pairing: lee!Bakugou, ler!Shouji

Summary: Bakugou wakes up feeling weird. As the day wears on, he realizes what it is, but can't admit it to himself, let alone anyone else. His bad attitude rears its ugly head as he struggles to ask for help without having to actually admit what the problem is.

Words: 5,050

Katsuki was agitated; he had woken in a peculiar mood—one he couldn’t name. It felt like a tingly buzzing—something—deep in his gut. He tried to force it down, his brows furrowed in frustration, or concentration, or both—he couldn’t tell. But he bulldozed his way through his morning routine. Whatever this was, it would surely pass. 

For once, Katsuki appreciated the suffocating chatter of the classroom as he waited for class to begin.

“Hey, Kacchan, y-you good? You seem a little tense,” came Deku’s quiet voice from behind.

He stood corrected…

Forcing his shoulders not to hike up to his ears, Katsuki turned around, his once-usual grimace contorting his face. “Fuckin’ fine, damn nerd.” Deku’s eyes widened, but he largely looked unconvinced. “Tch.” With a roll of his eyes, Katsuki turned back around, and glared straight ahead. 

Classes crawled by, painfully slow. That peculiar feeling reared its head sometime during their fourth period. The odd, nameless feeling started, deep in the pit of his stomach—much like earlier that morning. He tried to force it back down, but slowly, it was working its way up. The higher it travelled, the more intense it seemed to become. 

Katsuki felt like he was playing a game of Tug of War with himself—and losing. The harder he tried to force the growing, tingly buzzing down, the faster it seemed to climb. Taking a slow, deep breath, he stilled. One. Two. Three. Four. Carefully, he exhaled a stuttering breath. Thank fuck! The feeling was still there, but seemed to have stopped—annoyingly, unfortunately—in the middle of his ribs. His lips twitched.

What the fuck is this?!

Katsuki focused on his ragged breathing, trying to slow his pounding heart—glaring straight ahead as Yamada-sensei continued rambling on—about what; Katsuki couldn’t say. Finally, class was over. Katsuki didn’t think he had ever packed up and bolted from class so fast before. 

***

Mezou watched as Bakugou practically fled from the classroom as soon as English was over. He frowned. Is Bakugou having a panic attack? Mezou packed up his own belongings as fast as he could and headed to the closest bathroom, hoping to find the ash blond. But the bathroom was deserted. He sighed, and headed to the cafeteria. 

Scanning the large open space, he didn’t see Bakugou anywhere. Not sure where else to look, he made his way through the lunch line and then took his usual seat at a table in the corner, next to Tokoyami.

“Did you notice Bakugou acting… off today?” Tokoyami asked, picking at his rice.

“I did,” Mezou said, pulling out his phone. “It seemed like he was in a bit of a panic. I tried to find him, but he disappeared.” Mezou opened his Messages app, and selected the conversation he’d started with Bakugou over a week ago. 

It contained two messages; the first being from Mezou, letting Bakugou know it was him, and a simple thumbs up emoji in response. Mezou’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard. Should he reach out? They were trying to be friends, weren’t they? Sure, it was new; and Mezou had left it up to Bakugou to approach. But this wasn’t about meeting up. 

“What could have happened, I wonder.”

Mezou hummed, taking a bite of his food as he typed. He paused for a moment, debating whether to actually hit send. But he did. He hoped he wasn’t pushing.

Me:

Hey, are you okay? You seemed... not yourself, I guess?

Bakugou:

I'm fine, you damn extra

Mezou didn't buy that one bit. He'd heard Bakugou's breathing, the attempts to calm himself, and his pounding heartbeat. But before Mezou could respond, bubbles appeared—disappearing almost as quickly. He waited. They appeared and disappeared a few more times before there was another message.

Bakugou:

…

Why do you even care?

Me:

I was under the impression we were trying to be friends

Have you ever had a panic attack before?

He didn’t get a response.

***

Katsuki stared at Shouji’s last message, chewing the inside of his cheek. They were, weren’t they? Even if it was definitely in secret? Even if its purpose was… was… Oh no—fuck! He’d only just managed to wrestle that weird sensation back into its box. And it was already breaking free, rapidly climbing up his torso once more. Quickly shaking that train of thought from his mind, Katsuki closed their chat and stuffed his phone in his pocket. 

The sensation dimmed slightly but it was still rapidly moving upward, over his ribs, climbing higher. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Why is this happening?! Curling in on himself, arms pressed tightly to his sides, his mouth contorting in an attempt to smother the growing need to smile. He sucked in a breath—one, two, three, four—and exhaled shakily, and it did not sound like a giggle. 

Shit—do I want—? And then, the sensation lodged itself right there, just below his armpits. Katsuki thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. No, definitely not! He curled into an even tighter ball, his mouth pressed in a hard line to keep the building laughter in. And then, he held his breath—willing the tingly buzzing feeling to go away. 

It took some time, but eventually, his breathing was steady, weird feelings were locked away, and his mind was carefully blank. Just in time for lunch to be over. Slipping from his hiding place, his stomach growled—loudly—reminding him that he hadn’t eaten. Afternoon classes were going to be rough.

He was the last one to make it to class. 

“You will be sparring again. This time in your costumes, and without your quirks. You’ll have to figure out how to beat someone when you are in situations where using your quirk could be more dangerous than helpful. I will be pairing you up,” said Aizawa-sensei, in his usual bored tone.

Another sparring lesson. Great…

“Aoyama, you’re with…” Katsuki was barely listening when Aizawa-sensei called his name, but it seemed—to Katsuki—that he was yelling, when he paired him with none other than Shouji. Katsuki swallowed; how was he going to keep it together? Shouji wouldn’t… do that in class—he’d promised to keep his secret! Logically, he should know that. 

But, it seemed that now that he had identified the feeling he’d been battling all day, this new development was giving way to a new panic. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Shouji eyeing him. Of course he would notice. Katsuki reached for his hair, ruffling it in an attempt to calm himself.

“Meet outside, you have ten minutes,” Aizawa-sensei drawled before leaving the room.

***

Mezou didn’t know what to do. It felt a bit like he was the cause of Bakugou’s panic. But he couldn’t understand what he’d done. He waited for Bakugou to grab his case and exit the room before he even stood up. Should he request another partner? Sighing, he finally went to grab his own case and headed to the locker room. 

By the time he made it out to the training field, Bakugou seemed calmer. They hadn’t spoken, let alone made eye contact. Mezou wasn’t sure how they were going to get through this exercise. What should I do? He didn’t think Bakugou would appreciate being handed a win; but what else was there?

He tried to shift his attention to watching his classmates’ matches. It seemed like most of them were close, or decent matches. But Mezou could admit he wasn’t really paying that much attention. And then, it was their turn.

He made his way into the ring. Bakugou followed, trying to appear as his usual self, but Mezou could see Bakugou's jaw ticking and he had yet to meet his eye. Sighing, Mezou dropped into a fighting stance, watching as Bakugou did the same. Bakugou was wearing his trademark scowl, his brow furrowed, but Mezou could see the smallest flicker of hesitation. So, he really was the cause. 

“Begin.”

They charged, and for once, Bakugou didn’t start with a right hook. They traded blows back and forth, Mezou all too aware of Bakugou’s growing frustration. I should probably end this quickly. 

Bakugou spun into a kick—

***

Katsuki had disappeared to his dorm immediately after class, ignoring calls from the Bakusquad. He had a lot to think about. The match with Shouji had ended in his loss—not to mention the flash of nervous excitement he immediately knew Shouji had caught before he could contain it. 

But he couldn’t help it. Shouji had pinned him flat on his back pretty quickly—embarrassing in itself—but he’d pinned his arms up by his head—away from his sides. And Katsuki was immediately all-too-aware how vulnerable he was, especially that spot. That damned feeling had immediately flared there, Katsuki’s eyes widening as his mouth pulled into a small, but shaky grin before he could snuff it out. Heat had flared at his cheeks; he could see what looked like realization cross Shouji’s face before he was quickly released. 

And then he bolted.

And now, he was hidden away in his dorm, face down on his bed, head buried under a pillow. He didn’t know what to say to Shouji. He couldn’t ask, especially if… that’s what he wanted. The words sat heavy in his chest. Throwing his pillow across his room, he snatched his phone from the nightstand, opening his chat with Shouji. His thumbs paused, hovering over the keyboard. 

Definitely couldn’t use… that word. Katsuki bit his lip. What to say… A moment later, his thumbs were tapping away; he hit send before he could stop himself.

Me:

Do you want to spar with me?

Not waiting for an answer, he threw on workout clothes and headed for the gym. If Shouji didn’t show up, Katsuki could still blow off some steam.

***

Mezou was out for a jog through the forest behind the 1A dorms. He was lost in thought, letting his feet carry him down the familiar paths as he replayed the day—especially the match—in his mind. He had never seen Bakugou so hesitant to start a match before. Though, he guessed, if he was the reason, it made sense.

The fight itself seemed to be fine, as he played back every move, every blow. And then the moment he had taken Bakugou down—it had been pretty easy. He had grabbed Bakugou’s fist as he threw a punch, pulling him sharply forward. As Bakugou’s other arm swung out for counter balance, Mezou had snatched Bakugou's wrist as he swept his legs out from under him. 

After that, Bakugou’s back had easily hit the ground—Mezou pinning his hands by his head as he straddled him. And then, what was clearly nervous excitement had slipped across Bakugou’s face. Which had shortly been replaced by widening eyes and a shaky grin. Mezou stopped in his tracks, his brow furrowing. 

He played the match over, and over again. Leg sweep, take down, arms pinned—leaving Bakugou vulnerable in a way only they knew. Nervous excitement, a shaky grin—he had even blushed. It was so obvious now, Mezou could have slapped himself. Well—that part was obvious. He was still confused about this morning. They definitely needed to talk.

Checking the time, Mezou turned and started toward the gym he’d first met Bakugou at a couple weeks ago. It was empty, but that was fine. He started setting out the mats. Laying out the last mat, he pulled his phone from his pocket—it chimed. Mezou’s eyebrows shot up.

Bakugou:

Do you want to spar with me?

Is that what we're calling these meet-ups? Mezou chuckled to himself, quickly typing out a reply.

Me:

I'm here

Mezou didn’t have to wait long before the door to the gym was pulled open and Bakugou stepped through. Mezou immediately noticed he was wearing a tank top. Mezou wondered if the choice was deliberate; but either way, it made things easier.

“I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you…” Mezou said gently, as Bakugou approached. He didn’t look nervous. That was good.

“Hah?” Bakugou spat, glaring at Mezou, his shoulders hiking a little, tiny sparks igniting at his sides. “Weren’t you the one who said we were trying to be friends?”

“Well, yeah. But it felt like I was the cause of your panic,” Mezou said, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, his gaze shifting toward the wall of mirrors.

“Tch. Someone thinks highly of himself,” Bakugou scoffed.

Mezou cocked an eyebrow. “Are you saying it didn’t sound like you were having a panic attack in fourth period? Or that you looked like you wanted anyone else as a sparring partner?”

The tiniest of explosions crackled from the blond’s palms, a snarl contorting his mouth as red bloomed across his cheeks. “That wasn't a panic—!” He turned his back on Mezou.

***

Katsuki snapped his mouth shut with an audible click as that damn feeling returned, lodging itself just under his armpits once more. His hands found his hair, pulling at his roots slightly before ruffling through it instead. He couldn’t explain to Shouji what had actually been happening. It was too weird! Katsuki’s shoulders hiked to his ears as he heard Shouji step closer. He had to get this feeling under control now.

“If it wasn’t a panic attack, is it related to what happened during our match?”

Katsuki’s lip curled, and he willed himself to not give away any hint of his internal struggle as he turned a fiery glare on Shouji. But nerves were swimming in his stomach; Shouji really had noticed everything, hadn’t he? “Nothing fucking happened during our match!”

“No? Then let’s have a rematch, right now,” Shouji said, crossing his arms over his chest, an eyebrow cocked as if he didn’t believe Katsuki one bit.

Katsuki was careful to keep his nerves under control as he glared up at the other boy. “Tch. Let’s fucking go, then!”

Shouji raised his eyebrows slightly before giving a small nod, cracking his knuckles. His extra appendages were formless, but it hadn’t mattered last time. And then he fell into a fighting stance. His gaze was oddly intense. 

Katsuki fought the shiver that ran up his spine as he dropped into his own stance. With a nod, they were charging each other, exchanging blows much the same as that afternoon. His heart was pounding; he knew Shouji could hear it. Thankfully, Shouji’s face gave nothing away. Katsuki was sure he would have faltered if it had.

Throwing a punch, Katsuki immediately realized he put too much weight behind it as he launched too far forward. He grit his teeth as Shouji easily side-stepped, grabbed his elbow and easily tossed him over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. He landed hard on the mat, quickly moving to roll to his feet. Once up, he spun into a kick, snarling as it was easily deflected. 

His breath was going ragged as he threw a right hook. Shouji caught it head on, pulling Katsuki forward. Fuck! Is this going to unfold the exact same way?! Katsuki could feel the tips of his ears burning as he stumbled—could feel excitement flaring in his chest. Then, his legs were being swept from beneath him. 

In short order, Katsuki was flat on his back once more—legs pinned beneath Shouji’s solid weight as he loomed over him, pinning Katsuki’s wrists up by his head. That damn tingly buzzing feeling returned immediately, stronger than it had ever been. Katsuki knew he was doing an even worse job concealing the excitement swimming in his eyes as the two stared at each other; his mouth fighting to conceal a shaky grin. He could feel heat rising in his cheeks—Shouji was clearly very amused.

Katsuki pulled at his wrists, trying to contort his face back into its usual scowl, or at least something impassive. Which only seemed to amuse Shouji more. His grip on Katsuki’s wrists tightened slightly, “Why are you so excited, hmm?”

“I-I’m n—” Suddenly, the buzzing tingle that had plagued him all day was being pushed back by the lightest, briefest brush of fingertips right below his armpits. Katsuki jolted—hard, a small shriek escaping as the grin stretched wider across his mouth. He exhaled, shaky and giggle-laden, goosebumps spreading over his skin.

“Do you really think you are in a position to be lying?” Shouji asked, his voice low and teasing as he lightly flicked his fingers back and forth in that damn spot.

Katsuki arched sharply with a shrieking cackle, his wrists straining against Shouji’s ridiculously strong hold. “YIIIHIHIEEEHEHE—FUHUHUCK! GGRRAAHAHAHA!!”

“Let’s try again: Why are you so excited, Bakugou?” Shouji asked, letting his fingers glide along the entire expanse of the area.

“PPFFAHAHAHA!! IHIHI’M NOHOHOHOT!” Katsuki cried, bucking as he pulled helplessly at his wrists. His heart was racing, and they had only just started. Why is this what I wanted?! Why can’t I just—

Shouji sighed, nails lazily circling in the center of that damn spot. “You wanna know what I think?” he asked, his fingers never stopping.

Katsuki sucked in a much needed breath before he dissolved into helpless cackling, his elbows trying to jerk inward to offer at least a little protection. His heels beat against the mat as he glared at the boy above him. “IHIHI WAHAHAHANT YOHOU TOHOHOHO SH-SHUHUHUT THAHAHAHA FFUHUHUCK UHUHUPP!”

Shouji hummed, his fingers pulling away. Another set of hands found Katsuki’s elbows, forcing them up higher and back against the mat. Katsuki could feel himself stretching out, and knew it couldn't be good. The two locked eyes, but Shouji didn’t say a word. 

Fingers gently touched down, Katsuki’s eyes widened when he distinctly felt more than one set of fingers on either side. Heat bloomed across his cheeks, his eyes squeezing shut as helpless snickers slipped free, and Shouji hadn’t done anything yet. Shit… 

Shouji laughed at him—it sounded low and sinister. Katsuki hoped it was just because it was muffled by the mask he wore—but Shouji otherwise remained silent. Katsuki wasn’t sure if he actually preferred that, but he wasn’t about to say anything.

Tap, tap, tap, tap. 

The fingers drummed almost lazily against Katsuki’s most sensitive spots. Goosebumps spread along his skin, whimper-filled giggles fighting against his clamped-shut mouth. He shuddered, cursing himself for getting himself into this mess. As if this wasn’t exactly what I’ve been wanting all damn day, he thought, before he could stop himself.

Though, he still didn’t understand why he had wanted this. It felt like literal torture!

The fingers against his left started moving, dancing and gliding gently over the vulnerable skin. Katsuki flinched, hard, before twisting as far to the left as Shouji’s hold would allow; it wasn’t quite far enough—but it didn’t really matter. As soon as he had twisted as far as he could and sucked in a shaky breath, the fingers on his right started to move. They pressed in, vibrating quickly.

Bakugou shrieked, twisting back the other way as he pulled against Shouji’s inescapable hold. “GAHAHAHAHA!! O-OHOHOHOKAHAY!! YOHOU CAHAHAN TEHELL MEEHEHE!!”

“Are you sure?” Shouji asked, his hands seamlessly switching his ministrations to the opposite sides. “Pretty sure you told me to ‘shut the fuck up’…”

“YAHAHAHAHA—!!” Katsuki’s laughter cut off with a string of snorts. He blushed furiously as he bucked, helplessly twisting back the other way. His heels beat against the mat again, in a vain attempt to distract himself from the maddening sensations plaguing him. “SH-SH-SHOHOHOUJI!”

“Okay, okay, take a breath,” Shouji chuckled, slowly bringing his fingers to a stand-still. But he didn’t pull them away.

Katsuki shifted onto his back again, sucking in breath after breath as his laughter slowly died down. He knew his face was still bright red as he glanced at Shouji before finding an interesting spot on the ceiling. His mouth twitched helplessly into a nervous grin at the threat of Shouji’s waiting fingers.

Shouji poked his cheek. “You haven’t been able to get rid of this since I pinned you—had one this afternoon, too.” He was far too amused, in Katsuki’s opinion. “So you’re ready to hear what I think, huh?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” Katsuki snapped, before he could stop himself. “Uh, I mean—” he tried to correct, nervous giggles slipping free, trying to curl in on himself again. But Shouji had yet to release his elbows.

“We’re learning, I see,” Shouji said, finally removing all four hands from below Katsuki’s armpits.

Katsuki glared up at Shouji, not caring about its ineffectiveness brought on his quiet giggling.

 “As I was saying,” he started, slowly dragging a single fingernail along that same spot.

A hiccup broke through his rising giggles as he helplessly arched, shivering as goosebumps spread along the area once more. “Wh-What ki-ihihihind ohohof break wahAHAHAHAS THAHAT?!”

“Who said it was supposed to be a break?” Shouji asked, adding another finger to the slow, gentle teasing of Katsuki’s worst spot. “Do you wanna keep interrupting me?”

Katsuki gurgled around a squeal, bucking helplessly, his arms straining uselessly to come down. Why haven’t I told him to stop?! 

“When I pinned you in class, you had a similar look on your face,” Shouji paused, briefly, probably to see if Katsuki would deny it. But Katsuki was too busy snickering and jerking uselessly back and forth—his heart thumping as a slight pink found his cheeks.

“I thought, you thought I might tickle you in front of the entire class—but that couldn’t be it. It’s very clear you don’t want anyone to know, and I told you I’d keep your secret, so—” Shouji’s damn fingers kept sweeping, until they slid to just before the curve of his back ribs, flicking back and forth.

“PPFFHHAHAHAHA!! SHIHIHIHIT–AHAHAHAHA!” Katsuki was forced into a high arch as his arms strained uselessly. But Shouji’s damn fingers easily followed. “FAHAHAHAA!! FUHUHUHUCKING HAHAHA-HEHELL!”

“I realized—it was the way I pinned you—just like this. And thanks to your hero costume, your worst spot was fully exposed. I’m sure you only reacted because it was me and I know about this spot,” he said, his fingernails scraping gently, slowly along the open space.

Katsuki wasn’t sure if Shouji even cared if he was actually listening, or could even hear him. But even though he was lost in a fog of maddening tickles and drowning in his own raucous laughter, Katsuki clearly heard—every—fucking—word.

“And then, you showed up, wearing something else that would leave you so vulnerable. And so, I’ve realized something else. Do you want to know what that is, too, Bakugou?” Shouji asked in the teasiest voice Katsuki was sure he’d ever heard from him.

Katsuki couldn’t look at Shouji as he blushed furiously from his roots to his chest, his laughter growing strained, his struggles jagged and sloppy. But still, he nodded, his heart pounding. Shouji had sussed out everything else… Katsuki was pretty sure he knew exactly what was gonna come out of Shouji’s mouth.

Shouji’s fingers slowed gradually but didn’t pull away. “I realized, not only have you been wanting to be tickled all day, but you specifically wanted to be tickled right here,” Shouji said, letting his fingers lightly brush along the abused skin.

Katsuki gasped sharply with a shrill squeal, his arms jerking hard as he flinched. His shoulders tried to hike up to his ears as they burned in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t absolutely sure, at first, of course. But, not once have you said to stop; or that you didn’t want it. You’ve just been taking it.” 

“S-So whahat?” Katsuki asked, sure he couldn’t feel anymore embarrassed than he already did.

“So nothing. There’s nothing wrong about you liking to be tickled—”

Katsuki couldn’t help the gasp that escaped, or how his face grew hotter. Clearly, he had been mistaken before.

“—and I already know you do. So why not just be honest about what you want?”

Katsuki sighed through his giggles, keeping his gaze firmly on the ceiling. “It’s… stihihill embahaharrassing. And I still cahahan’t believe yohohou even…” He didn’t know how to finish that thought. 

“Well, you think about that while I get back to making you laugh yourself silly—unless you’ve had enough?” Shouji asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Did I say I've had enough?” Katsuki snapped, momentarily forgetting the position he was in.

“No, not in the slightest. And here I was being gentle with you. Guess I should kick it up a notch, wouldn’t you agree?” Shouji shot back, cracking his knuckles.

Nervous giggles bubbled from his chest before Katsuki could stop them. Another large, shaky grin took over his face. He strained to curl in on himself as much as he could, shaking his head quickly. “Yohohou r-really dohon’t…!”

“Of course I don’t. But I want to. You definitely snorted earlier, and I want you to do it again…” When had Shouji’s eyes turned so sinister? Katsuki could still make out amusement, but his stomach dropped as Shouji’s hands came back into view. Why can’t I tell him to stop?!

Katsuki watched helplessly as Shouji’s four hands moved—almost teasingly slow—to rest against that very unprotected spot they’d been focusing on. He couldn’t stop the full-body flinch as they touched down, a squeal tearing through his unstoppable giggles.

Shouji looked far too delighted, in Katsuki’s opinion. For a moment nothing happened, it looked like Shouji was studying him. But Katsuki could take it! He stared right back, a challenge burning in his gaze.

And then, what felt like an electric jolt hit his nervous system. Fucking shit! Shouji’s fingers had dug in and started to vibrate deep in his very defenseless, most ticklish spot.

Katsuki let out a shrill scream as he arched sharply, his wrists yanking desperately against the iron grip that held them. Katsuki’s head whipped back and forth, eyes squeezed shut, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “SSHAHAHAHAHA!! NAAHAHAHA!! FAHAHAHAHA!!”

He couldn’t even form his usual curse words. What the fuck was this? Shouji had never been this intense before. It was absolutely terrifying, but also… exhilarating? Katsuki’s heart was racing, his head spinning as he tried to suck in air around his frantic laughter. 

Shouji’s fingers started alternating intensities, sending Katsuki careening helplessly back and forth. And then his frantic laughter went silent. The gathered tears slowly slipped down his cheeks as he tugged at his wrists, his palms started to spark. 

Shouji’s fingers eased up just slightly, enough for Katsuki to suck in the smallest breath that gave way to a long string of hiccupping snorts, heat flaring at his cheeks once more. He arched desperately as the sparks igniting in his palms grew a bit bigger—came quicker. 

“There it is,” Shouji chuckled, but he didn’t stop. He wanted more?!

Shitshitshit—FUCKINGSHIT!

Katsuki was nearing the end of his tolerance, but he couldn’t form the words through his shrill, cackling laughter. For an embarrassingly long time, he was stuck trying to remember how he had gotten Shouji to stop the last time. But his mind was inundated with the most intense tickling he had definitely ever felt and his growing need to breathe.

And then, he remembered—frantically snapping both sets of fingers.

Immediately, Shouji’s hands fell away from the spot they’d been acquainting themselves with all evening, Katsuki’s wrists were released and Shouji was getting to his feet.

“You relax, catch your breath. I’m going to get you some water.”

Katsuki couldn’t respond as his whole body relaxed, melting against the mat he had just been pinned to. His laughter slowly shifted to giggles that petered out to shaky breathing. He didn’t even have it in him to bring his arms down. As his heart rate returned to normal, the lightness he had come to expect after these… meet-ups, radiated throughout his body.

Shuffling reached his ears. Katsuki knew he had a dumb grin still on his face, but he was too pleasantly worn out to care as he turned his head to look. Shouji was back, holding out a bottle of water. 

“Was it as fun as you were hoping it would be?” Shouji asked, dropping to sit cross-legged on the floor. He looked a touch nervous, like maybe he thought he had gone too far.

Shakily pushing himself up into a sitting position, Katsuki accepted the water bottle. He guzzled half of it before he sucked in a shaky breath, scratching awkwardly at his cheek as he shifted his gaze to Shouji. Be honest, Shouji had said—and some other stuff, but Katsuki was sure he would say it applied here, too. 

He couldn’t help the red that flared from his roots to his chest once more, but he didn’t avert his gaze this time. “Yeah, it was. Some of it was—ummm, more intense?—than I expected, especially that last thing…” Katsuki said, his shoulders hiking up to his ears, the grin stuck on his face wobbling slightly. “But I didn’t… hate it?”

“Well, good. I don’t want you to hate any part of our spars,” Shouji said, amusement bleeding into his voice as he leaned back on his palms. 

“Coulda fooled me—with that last thing…” Katsuki huffed, tucking in on himself slightly. 

“I didn’t hear you telling me to stop…”

Katsuki glared, red flaring across his cheeks. He stuck his tongue out, his mouth contorting into a scowl.

“You wanna go again already?” Shouji asked, his voice taking on a sinister edge.

“Mmph?!” Katsuki's eyes shot wide, as he jerked back slightly, shaking his head.

“Then put your tongue away,” Shouji said, getting to his feet. “Otherwise, you’re just asking for trouble, Bakugou.”

Katsuki blinked, quickly pulling his tongue back into his mouth. “Tch.” Getting to his own feet, he froze. The last bit of their conversation before the hellish tickling flashing through his mind: 

“It’s… stihiill embahaharrassing. And I still cahahan’t believe yohohou even…”

““Well, you think about that while I get back to making you laugh yourself silly…”

***

“You… You like tickling, too?” Bakugou asked, his voice quiet, like the first time they had any kind of conversation about this.

“You finally figured it out,” Mezou said, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I do. Mostly doing the tickling, though.”

Bakugou gawked at him. “How can you admit that so nonchalantly?”

TickleTober 2025 - Day 4: Shh, They Might Hear You...

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Series: An Unlikely Friendship, Forged in Tickles (Part 2) || Prev/Next

Pairing: lee!Bakugou, ler!Shouji

Summary: It's been a week since Shouji tricked Bakugou into sparring with him. He's felt better than he has in years. But when those feelings start to fade, Bakugou wants more. But was Shouji serious?

Words: 2,590

Katsuki was sprawled out on his bed, flipping through a textbook. He couldn’t say what was on the pages he was barely paying attention to—he wasn’t really focused on it. He knew he should have been, but the last few days had been really stressful and he felt like he was no closer to getting his Provisional Hero License than he was after the last class.

It also wasn’t helping that he was feeling restless, or that his mind kept wandering back to the ‘spar’ that octopus fucker had tricked him into almost a week ago. It was downright embarrassing that he was so easily manipulated and manhandled. But he hadn’t felt the other feelings in a long time, either. It really had made him feel… lighter. But every time he thought about how easily he had been made helpless, unable to stop the tickling—or that he hadn’t even really said to—his nerves got all jumbled and he felt like he was on fire. 

But, since then, he hadn’t felt the biting need to be a jerk to literally anyone. Not even Deku. He wasn’t exactly sure how he felt about that, though. Surely, his classmates would notice he was acting differently. They weren’t actually as dumb as he was constantly telling them they were. And then they’d think he was weak, and he couldn’t have that. 

Octopus Arms doesn’t think I’m weak.

You don’t actually know that! You don’t know anything about him. You’ve barely even looked at him all week. 

Letting out a growl of frustration, he slammed his textbook closed and shoved it away from himself so hard, it clattered to the floor. He didn’t care. He slipped from his room and was rooted in front of Shouji’s door, fist raised to knock before he even knew what he was doing. But he paused. Should he? There’s no way the extra had been serious. 

Come find me.

He held his breath, closed his eyes, and inched his fist forward to knock.

Laughter reached his ears, and then the tell-tale sound of a short-circuited Dunce Face. “Shit!” He needed to get out of here, the voices were getting closer. He glanced at the closed door in front of him before darting back to his room, his door snapping shut just as the group of his friends rounded the corner. Exhaling, he listened as Kirishima’s door opened and closed, the voices muffled but still easily heard. 

He threw himself onto his bed and just willed himself to sleep. He couldn’t think about that right now, or he was going to explode. Probably.

***

Mezou was finishing up an assignment for their Heroics Ethics class when he heard footsteps rapidly approaching his door. Then silence, followed by an awkward shuffle. 

“Shit!” It was soft but gruff. 

He made his way to the door—pulling up the mask he had pooled around his neck— cracking it open just as laughter and other chatter reached his ears. He was a shadow disappearing into Bakugou’s room, and then the rest of the ‘Bakusquad’ rounded the corner, disappearing into Kirishima’s room. They hadn’t noticed him. 

He stared down the hall for a few moments. Bakugou had wanted to talk to him? He didn’t know what he could possibly want to talk to him about. They’d not spoken before. Except last week—Oh. He stood in the doorway, debating if he should go after the other teen. He shook the thought away. Bakugou seemed like the kind of guy who wanted to do things on his own terms. 

Mezou could wait.

He disappeared back into his room, a small smile on his lips as he lowered his mask.

— 

The next day in class, Mezou kept a—discreet—watchful eye on Bakugou. He seemed more agitated than he had in the last few days. He kept scrubbing a hand through his hair, and the air of the classroom quickly smelling of his explosions. He knew Bakugou’s supplemental lessons weren’t exactly going great, by way of the gossip of the Bakusquad.

He was getting aggressive with his words again, and Mezou could tell that his classmates had started growing used to the slightly nicer Bakugou. He sighed. He wasn’t going to chase after the fiery teen this time. He didn’t want to accidentally ruin something the teen loved by using it against him too harshly. So, he’d wait. He was sure Bakugou would come around.

It was after classes and most of the class was gathered in the common room when Mezou got back from the gym. Kirishima, Ashido, Kaminari, Sero and Bakugou were missing. He didn’t really pay it any mind as he made his way up to his room. 

He could hear voices through the wall he shared with Kirishima, it sounded like an argument. He couldn’t make out most of the words, but he heard a snarled, “Piss off!” and an explosion and then Kirishima’s door bursting open so hard it crashed into something. Heavy footsteps retreated down the hall. The room beyond his wall was very silent. 

“I wonder if something else is wrong…?” Ashido questioned, almost too quiet for Mezou to hear.

“I’m not sure, he seemed to be in a better mood the last few days. Should we go talk to him?” The door was closed after that, the voices getting even quieter. 

Mezou had a pretty good idea what the issue was, but he felt like they had made a baby step of progress and he didn’t want to undo that by being too pushy. 

***

Katsuki slammed his door shut, leaning bodily against it as he released a haggard breath. Why was he feeling this way? It couldn’t really be because he wanted to be tickled—that was just crazy. Just because he liked it, and it had been literal years since anyone last tickled him—afraid to be hurt after his quirk came in. 

Damnit, he had used it against Octopus Arms, clearly they had reason to be afraid. Was it always going to be like that? Or maybe since he already knew, then Katsuki wouldn’t need to resort to that—subconsciously, or otherwise.  He sighed. He should probably apologize—and about some other stuff. But he didn’t know if he could face him. 

Come find me.

Katsuki sucked in a breath, letting his head fall back against his door. Come find me. So far, the multi-armed teen had kept his word and not told anyone about their ‘spar’... did that mean he was being honest about this, too?

Katsuki could feel his heart racing as he quietly eased his door open. He looked up and down the hall; deserted. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stepped into the hall, quietly closing his door. His bare feet slapped quietly against the wood flooring, making his pulse jump with every step. This was absolutely ridiculous. 

Am I really about to do this?

All too soon, he found himself planted outside the octopus’ door. I should probably stop calling him that… He sucked in a breath, and then quietly, hesitantly, knocked on the other student’s door. This was a bad idea. He took a step back as footsteps drew near from the other side. The door eased open, Octop—Shouji stood in the doorway—his face obscured like always—his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise.

“F-Forget it, I don’t—” Katsuki started, cutting himself off abruptly as Kirishima’s door opened, his eyes widening in alarm. Logically, he knew no one would know why he was standing here. But he still couldn’t help the rising panic.

Sero started into the hallway, though he was twisted around as he called back into the room, “I’ll be right back, gonna grab some snacks!”

He could see Oc—Shouji’s expression, eyes searching his, in a second that seemed to stretch on forever. And then, he was being pulled into the taller student’s room, the door closing silently, like it had never been opened at all. They stood in silence for a beat, then two. The only sound was Katsuki’s slightly ragged breathing and the faint chatter bleeding through the wall this room shared with the next.

***

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Bakugou groaned, his hands finding his hair and ruffling through it. 

Mezou gestured to the floor cushion by his desk and then perched on his bedroll. “Something’s obviously on your mind,” he said gently, leaning back on his palms, the rest of his limbs were tucked away, save for the one he was using to talk. 

Bakugou stilled, then shifted his weight around, his hands flexing, but no pops came. Sighing, he moved over to the floor cushion and dropped into it, glaring at his hands, but Mezou could see a blush taking over his cheeks. “I hadn’t been… tickled… in years—before our ‘spar’, he said, airquotes and all.

Years?! Mezou frowned. If he reacted like in the gym—so clearly enjoying himself, so obvious even under his gruff exterior that Mezou is sure he’s had since he was young.

“After my quirk came in, it happened less and less,” Bakugou said, gradually getting quieter as he spoke, his shoulder shrugging up to his ears, “It was always fun, I thought… but then I was sure that if anyone knew I… liked it… that they would think I was weak.”

“So the tiny explosions, they’re just your nerves?”

Bakugou nodded minutely.

***

The room was still, Katsuki still didn’t think he could meet Shouji’s eyes. He opened his mouth, just as familiar fingers found his sides. His head snapped up to find Shouji watching him intently as he squirmed. He couldn’t help but glare at the larger teen, but it didn’t seem very effective with the giggles that were starting to pour from him. Was he really going to…

The fingers had stilled, but they were still there, waiting… A third appendage found its way closer, and Katsuki had to bite back a nervous squeal. “I think you could use a bit of a pick-me-up, what do you think?” Shouji’s voice teased against his ear before the mouth morphed into a hand, a finger gently teasing the shell of his ear.

Katsuki shrugged and swatted at his hand, a shaky grin stretched across his face—all he could do was offer a nod. A deep chuckle reached his ears and Katsuki’s stomach flipped, but before he could otherwise react, strong hands were tugging him into Shouji’s lap, his back pressed to the teen’s chest—almost the same way as it had been a week ago.

It was only one hand per side, but they knew exactly what they were doing, as they slowly inched higher. Katsuki tucked his arms in protectively, but the hands had already found their marks. “NGHEHEhehemhmhmphhehe!” He flailed, he squirmed, but he couldn’t get up. He tried to tuck his arms against his sides. Muffled voices sounded through from the wall that shared space with Kirishima’s room. 

“Shh, they might hear you…” came Shouji’s voice from somewhere, low and teasing. His fingers switched direction, heading toward his hips.

Katsuki gasped, slapping his hands over his mouth, breathing in slowly through his nose. He knew his squirms were pitiful, but he didn’t care. Fingers trailed slowly up the back of his ribs. “Mmhhmhphehe!” He arched, eyes widening as firm hands found his elbows, slowly forcing out and up. 

No… not there, not here… Katsuki is pretty sure he whined—Shouji had said his secret would be safe. If he went there…

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything to ruin this game we’re playing…” the taller boy assured, right before a finger wormed its way into each of his shirt sleeves, slowly circling his hollows.

Katsuki snickered against his hands, his eyes squeezing shut as he twisted helplessly, but the grip on his elbows was firm, they were not coming down. And then fingers were dancing down his ribs, away from that spot, and he could have sighed in relief, but another hand danced across his stomach. He jerked, sucking his tummy in. “MPpffftthmhhehe!”

Another finger found each armpit, circling slow for a moment before they were drilling deep into the centers of his hollows. Bakugou pulled against his elbows with a shrill snicker, arching helplessly. He was glaring at Shouji for all he was worth, but he had no idea if the boy even noticed.

Another hand had found his stomach, kneading so ticklishly into the muscle that he tried to bring a leg up in defense, but a firm squeeze to the thigh had it shooting back down with a snort.

“Oh…?” Shouji murmured, his fingers slowly crawling to a stop. Katsuki did not appreciate the way his heart rate spiked. He knew the boy could hear it. Hands shot out, catching Katsuki’s ankles and lifting his legs straight out.

Duplicates stretched toward Katsuki’s feet. He curled his toes, but they were easily forced back, his soles stretching taut. “F-Fuck!” he kicked, his hands slapping over his mouth again. He did not like how exposed he felt. Who am I kidding…

Oh, so gently, blunt nails were sliding up his taut soles, from his heels, all the way to just under his pulled back toes. Katsuki tried to double over, tried to pull away from the prison that was his classmate, but he couldn’t get any give. “Mghehehefhfhmfmf!”

And then, hands descended upon his thighs, squeezing and kneading into the flesh. Katsuki bucked, kicking his legs helplessly—the boy’s damn nails still stroking his taut soles, so slowly, so gentle. “NYAHHMPHhmhmhhmh!!” Fuck! I can’t—If I open my mouth right now, I’m screwed. For a moment, he was just lost in the sensations battling in his brain. It was fun, but the fear of being heard was slowly eating away at that. He had to get him to stop before it was too late.

Thumbs dug into the curve of thighs, sending Katsuki slamming back into the boy’s chest, dissolving into a myriad of snorts and squeals, his legs jerking uselessly. His head whipped back and forth, and he did the only thing he could think of— he forced a hand from his mouth and frantically snapped his fingers.

Everything stopped, Shouji was slowly releasing him, but Katsuki could do nothing but giggle as he slid to the floor. He felt pleasant, and a bit like goo. Faintly, he heard Shouji moving around the room. And then he saw a bottle of water being set by his hand.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?” Shouji asked, sounding a bit unsure of himself. Katsuki leaned his head back slightly to see the boy awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

Katsuki grabbed the bottle of water from the floor, taking a long pull before answering. “No,” he said with a slight rasp. “I just… it was getting harder to keep quiet,” he said, looking off to the side. “It was a lot of fun though,” he admitted after a minute, a blush covering his face from ear to ear. 

“Ah, yeah… the dorm probably isn’t the best place to be discreet,” Shouji chuckled. He moved over to his desk and grabbed his phone, passing it to Katsuki. “Give me your number. Then you can text me, next time. If you prefer.”

Katsuki quickly entered his number, finishing the bottle of water before getting to his feet. He was feeling awkward. He shuffled to the door, laying a hand on the doorknob before pausing. “Thanks… Shouji.” 

Tickletober 2925: Day 3 - One Ghostly Finger

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: lee!aizawa, ler!hagakure

Summary: Hagakure Tooru couldn’t sleep. Thinking tea will help, she makes her way to the kitchen only to find Aizawa-sensei asleep in the common room.

He's having a nightmare.

She tries to wake him up. With tickles.

They have tea and a heart-to-heart.

Words: 1,489

TickleTober 2025 - Day 2: Not There!

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Series: An Unlikely Friendship, Forged in Tickles (Part 1) || Next

Pairing: lee!Bakugou, ler!Shouji

Summary: Bakugou’s attitude has taken a turn for the worst ever since he failed the Provisional Licensing Exam. Shouji thinks he needs an attitude adjustment.

Words: 3,068

The students of Class 1-A had been on edge for the past week, tiptoeing around a certain explosive classmate. Since failing to pass the Provisional Licensing Exam a couple months ago, Bakugou had been impossible to work with. It wasn't anything new that he would mock and belittle his fellow classmates—but the insults were getting to be downright cruel.

Bakugou and Todoroki were due back from their remedial lessons any minute, and Mezou was just not up for hearing whatever vitriol the hothead would undoubtedly spew today. As if he manifested it, the front doors to Alliance Heights burst open, revealing a snarling Bakugou and a rather-collected Todoroki. The chatter that had been previously filling the room died instantly—for a long moment, no one moved.

"Bakugou-kun! How was class today?" Kaminari asked excitedly, as if the answer wasn't written all over the other blond's face.

“Piss off, you glorified spark plug! You think you're better than me because you got your license, huh? You'll never be anything but a glorified charging port!" Bakugou spat as he stormed past.

“Bakugou, that was not necessary. Not manly at all!" Kirishima scolded as he passed, his face caught between worry and anger. Which was a look Mezou didn't think he'd ever see on Kirishima, he wasn't one to get angry. 

"Tch," was all Bakugou said, but his hand shot out to the redhead's face and a-much-too-big explosion was set off. Gasps flew around the room. Bakugou kept on moving toward the elevators, not bothering to look back.

When the smoke cleared, the room heaved a collective sigh of relief. Kirishima had activated his quick just in time, leaving him unmarred. 

Mezou supposed he was one of the best at reading Bakugou's moods. But, in Mezou's opinion, Bakugou really needed an altitude adjustment. But what could he do? Sighing, he turned back to the textbook in his lap, he'd have to think about it. 

"Are you okay, Denks?" Kirishima asked, waving the faint linger of smoke from his face. Mezou looked back up in time to see Kirishima pulling him down to sit next to him on the sofa.

 “Me? What about you?"" Kaminari asked quietly, slumping against Kirishima's side. 

"Just peachy—not a scratch. But he didn't need to talk to you like that. Are you sure you're okay?"

—

Bakugou was still in a particularly sour mood the following day, and it was starting to bring down the class morale. The air was thick with tension. No one dared speak to the fuming teen, whose palms were sparking more than usual. Mezou could see whatever stress was building was slowly eating at him, but he didn’t yet know how to help. 

At the moment, they were sparring outside. Surveying his surroundings, he saw a few of the match-ups: Jirou and Hagakure, Tokoyami and Iida, Midoriya and Bakugou. He didn’t think that last one would end well, Bakugou was already snarling, palms popping—and they weren’t even supposed to be using their quirks right now. 

Mezou focused back on his opponent: Satou. The call to begin sounded and the pairs were suddenly in action. The air was suddenly full of the sound of skin meeting bone, and controlled breathing. It went on for a few minutes longer before a sharp, swiftly-cut-off skriek cut through the air. Using one of his appendages to quickly survey the area, Mezou saw Bakugou knocked on his ass, a very faint blush on his cheeks even as he scowled, and Midoriya was grinning, brandishing a hand at the angry blond, his fingers wiggling slightly. 

Midoriya looked up to see Mezou watching and his grin widened before he turned away from him. Interesting… For some reason, Mezou hadn’t expected to find out such information. Sure, he didn’t actually see, so much as hear, but what he did see seemed pretty clear: Bakugou was ticklish. He could definitely use that to his advantage. 

A couple hours later, they were traipsing as a group back to the dorms. Most were slumped over and shuffling slowly, sporting bruises here and there, the air smelled of sweat. Glancing at Bakugou, he could see residual rage tight in his shoulders. He was definitely going to be headed to the gym later tonight. Then Mezou was going, too. 

He watched Bakugou disappear into the elevator as he headed to the kitchen. It was his night to help with dinner, with Satou. He’d ask Bakugou later if he was going to the gym.

—

An hour later, he found himself standing outside Bakugou’s door holding two plates of mapo tofu, one extra spicy. He knocked on Bakugou’s door, taking a small step back as he waited. He heard shuffling on the other side of the door and then it was opening, to reveal Bakugou, a hard set to his jaw, and a fiery glare. “What do you want, ya over-grown octopus?” Bakugou bit out.

Mezou let out a slow, controlled breath, setting his own sharp gaze on Bakugou. “Satou and I made dinner tonight—mapo tofu, and he made yours extra spicy, I’m just here to drop it off.”

Bakugou’s eyes softened for the briefest moment before he was all hard lines and anger. He huffed, snatching the almost entirely red plate of food from the taller student. “Thanks,” he mumbled, moving to slam the door in Mezou’s face. 

Quickly throwing up his empty hand and his extra appendages to stop the door, he looked down at the glaring blond. “Do you want to spar with me? In about an hour,” he asked, calm and neutral.

The question hung in the air for a few moments, Bakugou seemingly thinking it over as he looked Mezou up and down. He nodded shortly. “Sure, see you at the gym. Now, go away.”

Mezou hummed, and back away, headed back to the common room to join the others for the rest of dinner. The door behind him closed, quieter than he’d expected. 

An hour later, after changing into fresh work-out clothes, Mezou was headed to the student gym that Bakugou was known to use. Entering, he found Bakugou in the center of the room, stretching. He was pleased, and a little amused, to see the unsuspecting teen dressed in a tank top and shorts. Mezou glanced around the room. The mats hadn’t been set out, still stacked in a far corner against a wall of mirrors. 

“Do you want to set out the mats?” Mezou asked, stopping a short distance away and beginning his own stretches.

“If you can’t handle hitting the floor, maybe you don’t belong here,” Bakugou spat.

Mezou didn’t say anything, but he was now sure he was doing the right thing. Bakugou was going to re-evaluate his attitude today, whether he wanted to, or not. 

“Ready?” Bakugou called impatiently, hopping to his feet. 

“Ready.” Mezou stood, moving a ways away, facing Bakugou who was already getting into his fighting stance. 

Mezou dropped into his own and immediately Bakugou was charging—predictably, his arm drawn back for a right hook. He side-stepped, his left set of arms twisting into a mass of fists and quickly striking Bakugou in his right ribs, sending him flying.

Quickly righting himself with a series of explosions, Bakugou was snarling and flying toward him, leg drawing back for a kick to Mezou’s chest as he neared. But Mezou blocked, pushing him back. 

Bakugou huffed, charging forward, another telegraphed right hook. He must be really frustrated today. Mezou side-stepped again, but this time, he gently prodded into Bakugou’s unprotected side as he passed. 

Bakugou flinched, his mouth snapping shut. But Mezou already knew. He’d wear him down. This was going to be fun—for him at least. Maybe he shouldn’t mess with him like this, but Bakugou needed to learn that he wasn’t any better than the rest of the class—that he had weaknesses, just like the rest of them.

Bakugou was charging again, using explosions to propel him up and then down rapidly at Mezou. His foot connected with Mezou’s chest, sending him backward, but he used his quirk to extend multiple arms, wrapping around the leg at his chest, the blond’s other leg, and his arms, keeping them aimed away from him. He hit the ground with a grunt, glaring up at the blond glaring down at him. 

Bakugou had lost. And he was fuming. It was time for Mezou to put his plan into action. Keeping his hold on a struggling Bakugou, he got to his feet and walked the growling teen to the wall of mirrors. “What are you doing? You—You won already, put me down, you big octopus!” he growled, small explosions popping from his hands.

Mezou was starting to think the small pops just meant he was nervous. He grinned behind his mask.

Stretching and morphing his limbs around Bakugou, he easily manipulated the fiery blond a hundred-eighty degrees while bringing his arms high over his head, his legs straight down. Using an extra appendage, he covered Bakugou’s hands completely. He was completely exposed from elbows to knees.

If he set off an explosion in an attempt to free himself, it’d hurt Mezou for sure, but not as bad as the damage he would cause himself. The pops seemed to be intensifying. 

“I feel I should mention that your hands are trapped within a duplicate. So, while, yes, an explosion would hurt me, it will grow back just fine. But you will just injure yourself. Best if you calm down. We’re going to have a chat.”

“A chat about what?!” Bakugou snapped, the small explosions slowly died out, but he refused to stay still. 

Mezou let him continue. If he wanted to wear himself out before they even started, it’d just make his job easier.

“Your attitude,” Mezou said simply. “Do you really think it’s the attitude of a hero? Aren’t you aiming to be Number One? Look at yourself.”

“What, are you going to make me?”

“Do I have to?” Mezou asks, fingers lightly dancing up Bakugou’s defenseless sides.

***

Katsuki can’t contain the squirm that overtook him, but his teeth click tightly shut, eyes widening. H-How’d he—Damn Deku!

Katsuki snarled and kicked up his struggling for a few seconds before sighing and looking at himself in the mirror. “What am I looking at?” he huffed. Maybe if he played along, the octopus wouldn’t continue and would think anything up to now was a fluke.

“Your face. Does it look like one a hero would wear?” 

Katsuki looked at himself. But all he saw was determination, and said as much. 

“Is that what you think? We’ll circle back to that. Let’s talk about your attitude—”

“I don't have an attitude!" Katsuki snapped.

 “He says, with an attitude,” the taller teen replied with a dramatic sigh, bringing his hands to Katsuki's sides, kneading just under his ribs.

Katsuki couldn't resist trying to arch away, but he went nowhere fast with how tightly the multi-armed extra was holding him. He bit his lip, he wouldn't laugh. Then he'd think it was just a surprised reaction. 

But the fingers didn't stop, soon they were prodding into his lower ribs. A panicked grin was threatening to pull at his lips. He had to get out of this. “I th-think it's obvious I'm not ticklish, you multi-arm extra! So just put me down, or I'll kick your a-ass!”

Katsuki made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Even though he was glaring, he was not able to fully control his mouth, and he could see that extra watching. He looked so smug. He was gonna knock that look right off his face. He tried to intensify his glare, but his ears were turning pink. This was embarrassing.

“I think it's obvious you are, but that's not actually what we are here for—if you can stay on task and stop fighting me.”

“Argh! Just get on with it, you stupid, ugly beast! I got shit to do!” Katsuki glared into the mirror, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the extra’s eyes widen momentarily before settling back into a determined glare. And then he felt the boy's arms shifting, pulling him taut. Oh, fuck.

Before Katsuki could even think about apologizing—not that he ever would!—he was being pulled against the taller boy's chest, fingers digging into his ribs, dancing over his abs, drilling into his helpless armpits. Throwing his head back against the boy's broad shoulder, Katsuki couldn't even try to contain the frantic laughter that burst forth from his lungs. “BWAHAHAHA-EHHEHAHAHA-FFUUHUHUCK!” He pulled, but nothing gave an inch, he could barely twist. 

What did I get myself into?!

And then, the extra had the audacity to speak so calmly, as if he wasn't doing anything but having a friendly chat. "I understand it’s frustrating right now, because you feel like you're behind. I'm sure you're stressed. But that doesn't mean you can take it out on your friends or classmates.”

***

Mezou continued dancing his fingers over all three spots. Was he being a little too mean? Most likely. But Bakugou seemed like the kind of guy who needed a tough love approach. 

“Nothing to say to that, huh? Or am I just too much of a ‘stupid, ugly beast’ that I couldn't possibly understand you?” Mezou retorted, the fingers in Bakugou’s armpits relaxing a bit as they teased circles around the outer edges, the fingers on his stomach teasing the edge of his belly button through his tank top. 

Watching his reactions through the mirror, they didn't seem like those of someone who hated being tickled. In fact, other than outright trying to deny even being ticklish at all, he hadn't even told him to stop. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself. Huh…

He was intending to give the fiery teen a bit of a break, he wasn't actually angry, he'd heard worse, been through worse. But the hands at the boy's ribs had climbed higher than they ever had, teasing just under the boy's armpits. 

Bakugou went rigid for one second before a shrill scream escaped him, his arms fighting Mezou's hold for all he was worth. “FUCK-GAHAHAHAD, N-NOHOHO! NOT THEHEHERE!!” Pops started up again, the heat flicking against Mezou's skin.

Mezou shifted his duplicates, freeing Bakugou’s hands from their prisons, but the hold on his wrists held firm. All hands pulled away from Baukgou who immediately slumped in his hold, panting. “I'm gonna go out on a limb and say… that's your worst spot, huh?” Mezou chuckled. 

***

Katsuki didn't say anything, nor when he was being turned back around to face the taller student properly. He couldn't look him in the eye and his ears were bright red, he knew—and he couldn't get the stupid grin off his face. He tried to focus on the next attack but there were just too many hands. 

Maybe he could say something to stall. But what? Sighing, he said, “Okay, maybe I ha-have a bit of an attitude…”

“Well, that's a start…” Octopus Arms laughed. “Why do you think that is?” And then, fingers were teasing his armpits again, but not as roughly. 

Katsuki squealed and snickered, pulling weakly against the other's hold, but the last attack had taken a lot of energy. “Naahaha--c’mohohon, stohohop!” He couldn’t keep the silly grin from his face, or the blush from his cheeks.

“I asked you a question…” the boy said, his fingertips ghosting just under Katsuki's bare armpits.

Katsuki snorted, whipping his head back and forth as explosions crackled from his freed palms. “SHIIHIHIT—NAHAHA!! FUHUCKING FIHIHINE! IT'S CAHAHAUSE—” The fingers shifted lower, down to his ribs, prodding and digging, but at least he could breathe easier. He sucked in a breath, twisting helplessly in the strong hold he was trapped in, “Ihihit's my fault All Miihight hahad to retire! And I hahahahate seeing Deheheku so easily succeeding whehehen hehehe used to be so far behind me!”

The fingers stopped, pulling away, letting Katsuki relax, slumping forward once more. “Do you feel better, getting that off your chest?” the taller boy asked.

Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the taller extra lower him to the ground. “Mmmhh…” He swayed a bit as the extra hands finally released him. He wasn't sure how he was feeling. He felt a little better, he guessed—but that feeling was immediately swallowed by the knowledge that this extra knew he was devastatingly ticklish… and that he felt inferior.

***

Small explosions popped from Bakugou’s palms toward the floor. 

“Ah… you're worried I'm gonna go tell everyone what went on here, huh?” Mezou asked. 

“Aren't you?” Bakugou asked, in a voice way quieter than Mezou had ever heard.

“Do I seem like that kind of guy?”

“I don't know. I don't actually know you that well…” Bakugou mumbled, his ears turning pink for at least the third time tonight. 

“That's true,” Mezou chucked quietly. “Guess you'll have to start…”

There was silence for a few minutes.

“Can I also ask about something I noticed during our ‘spar’?” Mezou asked, with a neutral tone.

Bakugou eyed him for a minute, “I guess… I doubt it's any worse than what you've already uncovered…”

“Mmm… you might disagree once I ask,” he said, one of his appendages morphing into a sheepish grin.

“Spit it out,” Bakugou huffed, but there wasn't any heat behind his words, and he appeared to be biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Do you like being tickled? Cause well… while I was tickling you, you didn't ask me to stop—even when I found your worst spot, I'm assuming—you just asked me to not get you there specifically…”

Mezou didn't think he had ever seen anyone flush as red as Bakugou just then, from his roots to his chest. He couldn't react, though. He didn't want Bakugou to think he was judging him. 

Bakugou opened and closed his mouth a few times, his eyes darting anywhere that wasn't Mezou. After a long drawn out silence, Bakugou met his gaze for a full two seconds before looking away again. “You were right, I disagree…” he said in that uncharacteristically quiet voice. Sighing, Bakugou scrubbed a hand over his face. “If I do?”

I don't have a place I can really ramble about my stories as I'm writing them and I'm literally about to *POP*

Shouji is out here reading Bakugou like a fucking BOOK 📖

Wonder if Bakugou will realize that Shouji didn't just offer to tickle him just for Bakugou’s own sake? Shouji is, in fact, an unashamed ler.

a break,

some gentle tickles,