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Pact of punishment level: maxed. Time face the scariest enemy you didnât know lived in hell: your own boyfriend.Â
Zagreus âhelpsâ Thanatos get out from between a rock and a hard place. For @vqler, who GOD Iâm so sorry Iâm late but I hope you like me petrifying and obliterating Thanatos for you in the name of Christmas †Much love to you, much love and thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting this yearâs @squealing-santa. Kudos and love to everyone who posted for the event this year, happy holidays, and happy new year!
Zagreus had attempted enough escapes from the underworld to know, upon even entering a chamber, when something was immediately off. He daresay he was experienced by this point; there were things heâd come to expect. Hordes of enemies, unleashed with love from his father? Certainly. The unavoidable spiting of and smiting from god-cousins for the favor of other ones? Often. Blood, death, and darkness? Absolutely. What he found waiting for him upon crossing from his most recent ferry to the nearest Asphodelian dock was, in a total understatement, wildly unexpected.Â
Save for the familiar sound of bubbling, hissing lava and distant magma falls, the chamber was quiet. Zagreus entered as he always did, light on his burning feet and weapon unsheathed, ready to dodge or strike at a momentâs notice. He neednât have, though, as he soon realized the chamber was befuddlingly empty. Sure, heâd encountered chambers with no enemies in them, either at first glance because they had just yet to spawn or at all because their presence was dissuaded by some form of boon or blessing. But the chamber he currently found himself in had no healing pool, no shop, and no allies, let alone enemies. It was just plain empty.
So busy with examining the room for some sort of clever trap, Zagreus didnât even notice the obvious obstacle until he fully tripped over it, sprawling onto the rock with his weaponâStygius, this timeâclattering a couple of feet away. Zagreus looked back to see what had caused him to stumble, and his brow furrowed deeper in confusion. A scythe, large and dramatic and adorned with gold and a piercing purple eye lay abandoned on the rock, its usual wielder, the physically and emotively grey demigod that Zagreus had the biggest soft spot for, was nowhere to be seen. Or was he?
Zagreus turned his head, looking from Thanatosâ weapon to his own. A couple of feet away. His gaze lifted slowly upward. The grey and currently half-rocky skin had blended quite well into the environment like a natural stalagmite, and it wasnât until he was actually looking for it that Zagreus could see that Thanatos was there, and likely not going anywhere any time soon.Â
The prince rose, grabbed and sheathed his sword as he rounded the Thanatos-shaped pillar until he faced the front. Zagreus had been grinning already upon realizing what heâd stumbled upon, but that grin grew all the bigger and brighter when he saw the normally brooding Thanatos looking flustered and positively grumpy.
âDonâtââ Thanatos said, sighing in defeat when Zagreus snorted and burst into bright laughter that he tried and failed to hide behind his hand. âDonât laugh.â
"I'm sorry, but can you blame me?" Zagreus said, nearly falling into another fit of giggling when he rapped a knuckle lightly against Thanatos' chest and the action produced a satisfying thunk. "What happened?" He asked, but it was fairly obvious: petrification. Gorgons were aplenty in Asphodel, and none of them so friendly as Dusa. Most of Thanatos' body was still affected by the curse, frozen in place and turned a stony stormy grey. By the looks of it and the fact that he could talk, the petrification was naturally draining from Thanatos' form from the top first, leaving the rest of him to wait out the "thawing" process in the stiff and stiffness-inducing position of both arms partially raised as those blocking with his scythe, and both feet floating their usual few inches from the ground.
"I was waiting for your slow ass," Thanatos grumbled, drawing the prince to close his cursory examination with a snort. "Expected for us to have one of our contests, but a gorgon caught me from behind. You'd be standing in her remains, if I hadn't vaporized her."
"Remind me to stay off your bad side."Â
"âStay off.â"
âShut up.â Zagreus walked a slow circle around Thanatos. He cast his gaze outward, studying the chamber without the blinders of adrenaline and stress that tended to make things look fuzzy. He knew Thanatos was powerful, butâblood and darknessâheâd probably obliterated every shade within the next three chambers, let alone their current one. It was just a guess, but, with how thoroughly every trap had been tripped and every structural fault had been compromised simultaneously, as though from a massive blast, Zagreus was fairly certain that A. he and Thanatos were better than safe from shades for the time being, and B. even caught off guard, Thanatos did nothing at half-intensity. Drama queen. âSo how long have you been like this?â
Thanatos grunted, straining to look over his shoulder at Zagreus when the prince moved fully behind him. âI donât know. I didnât count, as I was counting on you to be quick. Thanks for picking this one time to be the one where you drag your feet.â
Zagreus didnât respond to the jab with more than a thoughtful hum. He was too busy watching the petrification dissipate, the cold stone color receding like a lava wave at low tide at a slavugâs pace. Ugh.Â
âI donât know how long Iâve been like this, and I have no idea how long Iâll be like this, since I usually have you to cover me.â
âItâs pretty quick, from the hits Iâve taken.â Of course, Zagreus realized upon thinking it over, he was often petrified while surrounded by enemies, and the threat of being sent back down the Styx made him struggle against the enchantment with all his might. Maybe it was supposed to last a long time; heâd just be thin on patience and break himself out. âHelps if you wiggle.â
Thanatos scoffed, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. âYou are an amazing help.â
âWell, what do you suggest Iâ?â
âJustââ Thanatos huffed, neck and shoulders visibly straining where he tried to move them, move anything, âjust keep watch to make sure nothing respawns. I didnât even want you seeing me like this, let alone your fatherâs subjects.â
âAny shade would think theyâve gone mad with the heat before they accepted seeing you like this as real. Or theyâd be laughed out of the House for such a ridiculous and unbelievable tale, you know that. But fine,â Zagreus replied with a yawn and set himself on a little guarding route around Thanatos, keeping an eye trained outward for ominous growling, keeping an ear pointed toward Thanatos to listen to his comical grunts and breathy swears of efforts, and letting his mind drift elsewhere.
When Zagreus found himself petrified on his escape attempts, a quick shake and healthy dose of stubbornness was all it took for him to bash his way to freedom and back to slashing shades to dust. There had been one time, though, when heâd found himself without monsters to slay beside the shade whoâd landed a hit and then lazily floated away and straight into a fountain of lava. (Zagreus could understand enjoying a hot bath, but yikesâŠ) With no adversaries, Zagreus had lacked his usual incentive to escape as quickly as possible. It was odd, to stop moving so thoroughly, without being able to so much as jiggle his leg or tap his fingers or click his tongue. His companion on-call at that time had been Dusa, and he couldn't think of anyone better to offer advice as to getting un-petrified than her. Luckily, the little gifted doll he kept like a keychain on his weapon didn't need to be physically or verbally invokedâthat would make summoning under the onslaught of a dozen rakers or one very maltempered ROUS even more difficultâso he pictured the soft snakey toy, reached out with his mind, and called for his companion. In a flash, Dusa appeared, all smiles and polite shyness and readiness to stone and slaughter any foe that challenged the prince. Of course, there were none, but Zagreus' head had gotten enough feeling back to explain the situation to Dusa. Her advice was the same Zagreus had given to Thanatos in the present: wiggle around a bit. And she had, so helpfully, provided a new incentive via her trusty feather duster.
Recalling the event made Zagreusâwell, first he flushed to the roots of his charcoal hair, and he was glad he'd come to stand behind Thanatos at that moment, and thenâgrin, delighted and devilish. "ActuallyâŠ"
"What?" Thanatos tried to look over his shoulder at Zagreus once more, and found only the slightest more yield in his stone-struck muscles. He could almost touch his chin to his shoulder.Â
Zagreus side-stepped accommodatingly to face his captive companion. "Funny thing is, Than, you're not rock. You can feel just fine." He gave another demonstrative flick to Thanatos' shoulder. "It's a bitch when you're being bombarded with enemy attacks. But it might help you break free. If I justâ"
It had been a tactical move for Zagreus to move around to Thanatosâ front. For one, it allowed him easy access to scribble his fingers under death incarnateâs arms unimpeded. For another, it meant he got to see Thanatosâ face morph from dismay to betrayal to amusement (however helped along and hysteric).
âZagreus!â cried Thanatos, the sound colored with a splash of helpless laughter. Truly, it was funny how his technically perfect defensive position, when without his intimidating weapon, left him totally vulnerable to a little tickling. (Well. A lot of tickling. Zagreus was usually on the other end of these fights, and he had already decided he was not letting such a golden fleece of opportunity go by.)
"Yes, Than dear?" Zagreus teased, smile growing wide enough as his victim's when he saw the way Thanatos' cheeks began to burn violet. It took the strength of Sisyphus, but Zagreus looked away from Thanatosâ face, looking instead at his chest and trailing the progress of the curse. Still slow, but with a bit more stuttering speed. The stony color had dissipated all the way down to about his collarbone, leaving the topmost part of his collar golden and shining once more. âNo need to thank me. I can already see the curse is lifting faster. You keep wriggling, Iâll keep helping, and youâll be out in no time!â
A whine that slipped seamlessly into a squeal punctuated Thanatosâ chortling. âButâ!â
The dual-eyed demigod slowed his attack, keeping his fingers and just a featherlight flutter in Thanatosâ armpits. It was far from rare for the pair to engage in all-out tickle wars that could border on brutal, but this may have been a bit much. Zagreus didnât want to overwhelm Thanatos. He waited for even the slightest inkling of dissent.
Thanatos ducked his head, panting and giggling and bumping his forehead gently against Zagreusâ. âIf someone seesâŠâ It was a thin excuse, between euphoric lips and yellow eyes burning with excitement, and Thanatos knew it.Â
Zagreus definitely knew it, holding Thanatosâ jaw in his hands to pull him in for a kiss that ended when the prince chuckled, low and wicked and delighted. âDarling, with how you smote those shades, we wonât be interrupted for awhile, Iâm sure.â Thanatosâ eyes scrunched shut, and he bit his lip valiantly against a renewed fit of giggling when Zagreusâ hands migrated gently down his neck and back to his underarms. âNo one but me to relish your screams.â
âRemind me never to get on your bad side,â Thanatos teased, teeth gritted in a grin.
Able to bear stillness not a second longer, Zagreus set his fingers dancing once again, spidering viciously beneath Thanatosâ arms. Poor death threw his head back as the villainous onslaught sent laughter bursting from his lungs to echo through the lava chamber. His shoulder muscles strained against stone, but, try as he might, he couldnât lower his arms at all. Not the tiniest inch, not the slightest bit of reprieve. Zagreus grinned. It was spectacular.Â
In self-preservation, Zagreus had tipped his head back from his and Thanâs intimate moment seconds before going back to full tickle monster mode, which had been smart with how determined Thanatos was to thrash even with just his head. A minute or two of torture later, Zagreus saw another inevitable point of danger. The curse was ebbing; soon Thanatos was free to his shoulders, and that gave him only the ability to laugh enough for them to shake. As soon as his pectorals were free, Thanatos was going to have means, however clumsy, to fight back. With a sigh lamenting the end of a helpless Thanatos, Zagreus took one last adoring gaze at that tickled-mad, wide-grinning, ecstasy-dizzy face, and he ducked.
A deadweight hand swung over his head, and Zagreus sent one of few thanks to his father for increased difficulty in his pact of punishment. It might have been small, but his instincts were good enough now to avoid what would have been an impressive black eye. Blacker eye. Still, stone-from-the-chest-down was not the way Zagreus preferred his partners, so he couldnât rest yet. Thanatos was flailing his arms with all his might, but he still couldnât bend over, so Zagreus was relatively safe lounging against Thanatosâ knee. Reaching as high as he dared, Zagreus gave a few quick and indiscriminate ticklesâresulting in beautiful answering shrieksâand latched onto Thanatosâ hips. Instead of pinching, Zagreus held on for dear life and dug into the fabric beneath Thanatosâ belt, burrowing into and scratching the soft sensitive spots that had the potential to make Thanatos purr but were currently making him wail like the damned.Â
The longer Thanatos suffered under Zagreusâ malicious mischief, the quicker the curse faded. Zagreusâ wiggling fingers seemed to be fleeing from it as they squeezed down Thanatosâ thighs, skittered behind his knees, and eventually dashed to his soles. Thanatos was fully able to buck now, body all but back to his control. Had Zagreus not laid down on the rocky ground, he likely would have been throttled. As it was, he was still out of reach, grinning up at Thanatos and receiving an exhausted but elated smile in return. There was even almost a flash of fear in deathâs eyes when Thanatos realized what Zagreus had planned for the finale of their firstâand hopefully not lastâcurse-breaking session.Â
âDonât worry, Than. This spot ALWAYS makes you dance. If it doesnât free you, nothing will.â Zagreus was positively beaming up at Thanatos, facing no defense in the form of scrunching toes or kicking feet his usually did even threatening to tickle this spot, and certainly not deterred by the pitiful attempt at a glare the smiley and slumped over Thanatos shot at him.Â
Any shade that had even thought about reforming within a mile of them had probably changed their mind and stayed dead a few more minutes upon hearing the howl death let out when two fingers were traced delicately under his toes. Never mind the subsequent guffawing screams he uttered when Zagreus raked five fingers back and forth beneath them while his other hand devastated Thanatosâ soles with some evil scribbling that he could only imagine tickled like hell. Those sounds, even if it did make Zagreus wince and almost want to cover his ears, and the blazing, amazing, unabashed smile that accompanied it was better than any boon the gods could give him. Maybe it was a little devil in him talking, but it was simply divine to see his lover so undone and hysterical, so free even when immobilized, so happy and for only Zagreus to see. He wouldnât mind staying there, basking in Thanatosâ warm and hysterical glow, for a few dozen winters.
His wish was not granted. He barely got a dozen seconds before Thanatos finally shook free from the petrification, yanking his feet away from Zagreusâ hands and subsequently upending himself, laughter having sapped his strength to the point where he couldnât even float, collapsing on top of Zagreusâ chest and leaving them both wheezing.Â
Once heâd gotten back the wind that had been knocked out of him, Zagreus chuckled, wrapping his arms around Thanatos and holding him close, rubbing smooth and soothing circles into the soft warm skin of his shoulder. So gentle and loving was the attention and little kisses he showered Thanatos with that his next words were a jarring dissonance.
âYou know, it usually only takes me a few seconds to break free from a gorgon hit when I really want to,â said Zagreus, and he hummed smugly when he felt Thanatosâ face grow warm where it was suddenly buried in the princeâs neck. âCanât help but wonder if, maybe, you just didnât want to escape that badly.â He pressed a grinning kiss to Thanatosâ burning forehead. âEh, Thana-toes?â
Just as suddenly as heâd been pinned to the floor under Thanatos, Zagreus found himself pinned to the floor, arms raised and locked in the grip of a vengeful death, whose amber eyes were absolutely alight with promise and payback, and smoldering more softly with fondness that could not be more obvious when he rolled them. âI will give you three conditions to escape a slow and very merciless end, after which I will personally drag you back down the Styx and deliver just as merciless a wake-up call.â
Zagreus gulped, his grin growing wobbly and his stomach already tickled by a swarm of prickling nerves and butterflies. âAnd those would be?â
âOne,â said Thanatos, summoning a ghostly indigo shackle to bind Zagreusâ left wrist. âPlease donât tell anyone about this that I work with. Iâd like to keep some professional dignity. Two.â Another shackled encircled Zagreusâ right wrist. âDonât you dare call me that ever again.âÂ
Zagreus couldnât help but smile proudly at the purple flush that touched Thanatosâ cheeks at that, albeit his smile swiftly turned giggly and giddy as those two shackles pulled his arms taut.Â
âThree.â Thanatos leaned in just to nuzzle Zagreusâ ear and scoff lowly when he tried to scrunch up his shoulders. The wickedly sharp tips of Thanatosâ iron gauntlets grazed gently along Zagreusâ highest ribs, making him jolt and bite down on a yelp, grin already hopelessly wide and nerves tingling in anticipation. Zagreus was sure he lost what color he had, most of it roaring to flush and flicker in his hair and ears, and surer that heâd be cursing Thanatos next time, when the latter bowed close to whisper the final condition.
Summary: After a tough day of training Megumi is feeling a little worse for wear, but perhaps his caring and doting boyfriend can help make him feel just a little bit better?
Or... he can be an absolute menace.
A/n: Merry Belated Squealing Santa @lovelynim! :D
I'm your stand in Squealing Santa writer and I hope that you enjoy this fic! You gave me so many fantastic prompts for sweet Itadori and Megumi that I decided that I was going to use them all!
The prompts were:
1) Oh? You are ticklish here? You mean right *here*?
2) A "massage", but the lee can't stop giggling and the ler wonders why
3) Ah, your feet/arms got stuck? Let me "help" you
4) You. Ten seconds to run. Now.
5) "Tickle monster? What nonsense are you talking about?
I hope that the year has been treating you well and I hope that you enjoy the shenanigans I wrote for these two!
And thank you again to @hypahticklish for hosting this years event! You've done an amazing job and I appreciate all the hard work you put into it! :D
Word Count: 2708
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Did Gojo Sensei really have to go that hard?
No.
Well⊠yes⊠but also no. But that was beside the point!
Itadoriâs precious boyfriend was suffering! He was in pain! He was only hanging on by a thread to this mortal coil!
âOi, Itadori⊠stop looking at me like that. Itâs just a pulled muscle in my shoulder,â Megumi cut in through the haze of Yujiâs thoughts as he literally saw his pink haired menace staring at him like he was getting ready to take his last breath.
âBut you said youâre hurt! You never say youâre in pain!â Itadori interjected from his spot on the opposite end of the sofa. A place he had been banished to after attempting to feed Megumi his dinner. Which wouldâve been all well and good had it not been hot ramen.
A man can only get slapped in the face with boiling noodles so many times before he has to choose his safety over severe third degree burns.
âI said that I was âsoreâ, Yuji. Itâs a common occurrence when your teacher is a⊠well⊠a Gojo,â Megumi said with a little shake of his head, instantly regretting the movement as he tensed and let out a little growl of pain.
Itadori was instantly by his side, completely disregarding the cushion barrier Megumi had erected after the ramen incident.
âFushiguro?! Are you okay?! Do you need water? A doctor? Should I call an ambulan-mmpfth!â
The cushion of his fallen wall helped Megumi to quell Itadoriâs spiral into madness as he quickly pressed it to his boyfriend's face.
âYuji⊠Iâm going to remove this pillow and when I do, I want you to be calm, cool and collected for me, okay? Iâm fine. Itâs a muscle thatâs just being difficult. A hot shower, a little rest and Iâll be good as new. Okay⊠the pillows dropping in 3âŠ2âŠ1âŠ..âÂ
Slowly, Megumi lowered the pillow and instantly regretted it as he was met with the saddest puppy dog eyes heâd ever seen.
âNo. No, Yuji, not the look. You know thatâs unfair,â Megumi tried to dissuade as he watched the intensity of the stare grow.
âI just want to make sure youâre really alright, Fushiguro. Please? Is there anything I can do? I donât like knowing youâre in pain and that thereâs something I could be doing but youâre not letting me.â
Megumi could already feel the flush starting to climb up his neck and reach his ears as he listened to the absolutely sincere concern in his boyfriendâs voice.
What was worse is that he knew that Itadori was well aware that he was on the precipice of cracking.
âCome on, Fushiguro⊠let me help you?â
Damn Itadori and his sweetness! For a man literally turned into a vessel for pure evil, how was Itadori just so⊠good?
With a deep sigh, Megumi knew that he had no choice but to accept some help. Maybe this could actually be beneficial?
âOkay. But!â he said quickly as he saw the bright grin instantly return to Itadoriâs face and watched his boyfriend's energy level spike up to 100. âNo more feeding me, no babying me and please, no more treating me like youâre about to light some incense for me. Got it?â
Itadori quickly nodded at all the conditions and stood up, offering his hand to his boyfriend.
Quirking an eyebrow, the dark haired sorcerer carefully took the offered help as he stood from the couch âI can see the wheels turning, Itadori. What are you planning?â he asked carefully, earning himself a chuckle in return.
âI was thinking about it and I know what I could do to help you. It would allow me to stay close and look after you without coddling you,â he said as he began to lead them toward Fushiguroâs bedroom. âI think a nice massage would be just the ticket for getting your muscles to start to relax. Many athletes find that it's nice to get one after a heavy workout.â
âOr if your Sensei has handed your ass to you over⊠and over⊠and over again,â Megumi mumbled, though a small smile was already lifting up the corners of his lips as he followed Itadori.
This might not be so bad.
â------------
Oh god⊠it was so bad.
Megumi could feel his sanity slowly slipping away as he lay there on his bed, his arms cradled under a pillow so he could rest his head comfortably while Itadori sat carefully on his thighs..
Now all of those were well and good and to be perfectly honest, the massage had started out amazing!
Itadori had made sure that Megumi was comfortably settled on his stomach, that he had all the pillows he needed, that he didnât feel too much pressure as Itadori settled on him.
Then the massage itself started and ohâŠÂ Â
Itadoriâs hands were careful and precise. Soothing along the planes of his shoulder blades, finding knots and working them out. Letting his fingers massage along his spine and down to his lower back where he hadnât realized heâd also been feeling some soreness.
All in all, the first ten minutes had been so utterly pleasant that Megumi wondered why he hadnât asked Yuji to do this sooner.
But then, Itadoriâs fingers had strayed a little too close to his sides, right where his lower ribs were, and Megumi had flinched.
And sweet Itadori. He thought it was an area that needed extra attention.
âOh! Fushiguro! This must be when Gojo Sensei sent you into the bushes! Here⊠take a few deep breaths and Iâll get those aches worked out!â
Now here Megumi lay, trying with all of his will power not to make a sound or a movement that would let Itadori on to a very well kept secret.
Megumi Fushigoru was ticklish.
Every pass of Itadoriâs fingers along his lower ribs only made Megumi tense more, his face buried into his pillow as he fought the far too embarrassing sounds attempting to escape him.
âMegumi, you are really tense here! This isnât even as bad as your shoulder was!â Itadori said lightly, as he let his thumbs begin to rub what he thought were soothing circles into the backs of Megumiâs ribs.
What Itadori was really doing was creating a new level of torture unknown by mankind until this point in history!
âYouâve also gone really quiet, Megumi,â Itadori asked, an extra little squeeze to his sides making the sorcerer flinch again as a slightly high pitched whine escaped him. âWas that a good squeak or a bad squeak?â
Megumi shook his head, knowing that if he answered there would be no back tracking and saving himself.
âWell,â Itadori mused, sounding slightly confused as he let his fingers settle somewhere near Megumiâs hips for the moment. âIâm gonna assume that things are still okay since you havenât bucked me off yet. But I think youâre really starting to loosen up now! You donât feel so tense! And I think I know why.â
Megumi had taken the small reprieve to try and rebuild his iron will like he had tried to build his cushion pillow wall earlier. âW-Why do you think that is, Yuji?â he asked, his voice still slightly unsteady to his own ears, but hopefully it was something Yuji wouldnât pick up on.
âBecause I think Iâve found the spot that holds all your tension and once we work it out youâll feel good as new!â Yuji said, sounding proud and excited all at once. âItâs right here!â
Without any warning, Yujiâs hands moved up and gave a few quick squeezes against Megumiâs lower ribs.
Three things happened in an instant.
First⊠Megumiâs poor body, completely unprepared for the sensation, instantly flailed as a wild cackle escaped him. His iron will completely collapsing, much like his pillow wall had.
Second⊠Itadoriâs hands ceased their movement and quickly moved from where they had momentarily been resting against the warm skin of his boyfriend's sides.
And third⊠the room fell into an almost deafening silence as both parties attempted to process what had just happened.
â..... OH!â Itadoriâs shout of recognition startled poor Megumi as he already began attempting to shimmy his way out from under the man, trying to dislodge his arms from under the pillow.
âNo! Itadori! Donât you da-AHARE!â Megumi instantly collapsed back onto the bed as he felt ten evil fingers scribbling up his sides and over his ribs, drawing out ridiculous giggles that he had been fighting for far too long.
âSo this is why youâve been so tense and quiet throughout the whole massage!â Yuji laughed, gently testing out different spots now that he had connected all the dots.
âSt-Stahahahap! I cahanât hehelp that I-Iâm tihihiâŠ.. tihihicâŠ. AH! S-Sensitihihihihiive there!â Fushiguro squeaked out, his cheeks already blushing as he attempted and failed to say that terrible word.
Facing curses was a piece of cake.
Saying the word âtickleâ? Now that was a true challenge.
Sadly for Megumi, this seemed to be a little extra fuel to add to the fire that had taken hold of his mischievous boyfriend.
âOh? Youâre ticklish here? You mean right here?â Yuji cooed, his fingers now vibrating against Megumiâs upper ribs where they had slowly been migrating to. Heâd managed to slither his way down from sitting on Fushiguroâs legs to easily laying on him, allowing him to keep his boyfriend in place as he continued to explore his vulnerable sides.
The ticklish touch made Megumi snort loudly as ridiculous laughter instantly escaped him, his arms trying to come down where they were currently trapped under his pillow no thanks to Yujiâs past kindness of wanting to make him comfortable and his new evilness at trapping him between the bed and his body.
âYehehehehes! Iâm tihihâŠ. tiihihicklish there y-you bahahahastard!â Megumi cried out through his laughter, the quick vibrations against his upper ribs sending electric ticklish jolts racing through his body.
Yuji chuckled at the sweet noise, basking in the sounds of his boyfriend laughing so freely and openly in a way he never thought heâd get to see. âAwww, no need for such words, Fushiguro! Look at how happy this is making you! And look at that blush!â Yuji cooed against Megumiâs quickly reddening ears, making the poor man shiver and try to bat the other manâs face away.
Unfortunately this was only a reminder of his poor arms being pinned out in front of him under his own pillow and his terrible boyfriend.
It was also a reminder to Itadori that he was going to be able to tease his sweet boyfriend for just a little bit longer without fear of being batted away.
âAh, your arms got stuck? Let me help you then, Megumi,â Yuji said softly, letting his fingers lightly scribble upwards till they were just nestled under Megumiâs armpits.Â
Megumi instantly jolted at the soft touch to what he knew was his worst spot, his head shaking back and forth as frantic giggles bubbled up out of his chest and his legs kicked out frantically behind him.
âD-Donât you dahahahare, Itadori! I swehehehar youâll regrehehehet this!â he warned, though he knew that his threats were falling on deaf ears as he heard the man hum above him. Then he felt an exploratory little flutter of Yujiâs fingertips against his death spot and he snorted as he tried and failed to bring his arms down once more.
âHmm⊠I think this might be where youâre stuck? Let me see if I canât untangle you,â Itadori teased before instantly beginning to spider all over the completely vulnerable area, only just staying in place as Megumi squirmed wildly before falling into the most hysterical laughter yet.
âOH GAHAHAHAD! NAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!â Megumi cried out, his poor armpits absolutely defenseless against the ridiculous tickling of his boyfriend. He tried to rock side to side to dislodge his menace, but Itadori stayed put, applying more pressure in the center of his armpits or right under the hollows near his upper ribs, always keeping the other sorcerer guessing and driving Megumi crazy with laughter.
âWhat? What was that, Megumi?â Itadori giggled, a bright smile on his face as he began to massage deep circles into the middle of Fushiguroâs armpits, making the man buck and snort like some sort of rodeo animal underneath him.
âTIHIHIHIHICKLES!â Megumi cackled, tears of mirth in his eyes as more laughter exploded out of him and leaving him unable to make a sentence any more succinct than that. âYAHAHOU MAHAHAHAONSTER!â
"Huh? What did you say? Tickle monster? What nonsense are you talking about?" Itadori teased, unable to help using that word again and blowing a light raspberry against the side of Megumiâs neck, drawing out what could only be described as the world's most adorable squeal.
And with that noise now permanently etched in Itadoriâs heart and memory he fell into his own heavy laughter, his fingers stopping their relentless attack as he rolled off his boyfriend to lay beside him.
As soon as he felt the weight of his boyfriend off of him and those evil, evil hands away from his worst spot, Megumi quickly pulled his arms down, curling in on himself as residual giggles continued to escape him and his tears of laughter still clung to his eyelashes.
The worst part of it all was that even though this had been a completely and utterly uncalled for attack⊠Megumi could honestly say he felt looser and more relaxed than he had in a long time.
Glancing over at his boyfriend, he could see that Itadori was still caught up in his own laughter at having gotten Megumi to make such a ridiculous noise thanks to something as simple as a raspberry.
Shaking his head as he continued to catch his breath, Megumi reached over and nudged the other man's shoulder, trying not to laugh along with Yujiâs infectious giggling.
âOi! It wasnât that funny you monster!â he tried to chide, but that only seemed to urge on Itadoriâs laughing fit.
âOhoho my gahahad, Megumihihi!â Itadori cackled, covering his mouth as he laughed at the memory of that sweet sound still replaying in his head. âThahahatâŠ. wahahas so c-cute!â
Megumi was now blushing for a whole other reason and rolled his eyes fondly. âWell I hope you enjoyed yourself because that is the last time you are ever giving me a massage or catching me off guard like that again,â he warned playfully, watching as Yuji slowly began to calm down.
âAwww! Donât be like that, Megumi-kun! You have the most wonderful laugh and it would be a shame never to hear it again!â Itadori cooed, making Megumi blush at his words though the smile still remained on his lips.
âI swear, you are without a doubt an absolute menace and I hope you know that I will be getting my revenge, Itadori,â Megumi warned, a playfully evil smile slowly emerging as he watched Yuji shift a little nervously.
âB-But⊠but I was just helping! Besides⊠Iâm⊠Iâm not ticklish.â
âOh?â
âReally! It wouldnât be worth trying! Besides⊠what about your arm? Arenât you still sore?â
As they spoke, Megumi had already started to shift closer as Itadori tried to carefully inch his way back and off the bed.
But never let it be said that Megumi isnât a man who plays fair.
âYou. Ten seconds to run. Now.â
Itadori was off the mattress in a flash, the sound of his footsteps already sounding like a distant echo as Megumi sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
The smile that still remained on Megumiâs face was all the proof he needed that Itadoriâs actions had honestly been as beneficial to him as he had thought, though he hadnât quite anticipated how he would achieve it.
Standing up, he rolled his neck, feeling the stiffness all but gone from his muscles.
And now that he felt so invigorated, it was definitely time to give Itadori a taste of his own medicine.
âTEN! Here I come, you menace!â he called out, racing out of his room to give chase to his ridiculous, wonderful, kind-hearted mischievous tickle monster of a boyfriend.
Fandom: Stranger Things
Characters: Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson
Summary: Eddie loves planning campaigns, Steve loves planning events. So how exactly did the dream team get so sidetracked?
Words: 2700+
Notes: Ahhhh not only is he late with his first fic on this account, but he's late for SS too. I was lucky enough to write a fic for the absolutely incredibly talented @rosiesramblings! I tried to use all of your prompts (earning a reward, too much energy and boredom) somewhere in the fic and apologies for the late post, but I hope you like It!!! A big thank you to our lovely host @hypahticklish too. Happy happy holidays and a wonderful new year to everyone.
Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve swears it could shatter that Garfield mug heâs so obsessed withâ despite the fact that he only uses the damn thing for hot chocolate.
Like the breathy laughter that burst from his lips last friday, When Robin spent a little too long comparing an old photo of Steve to the baby from The Labyrinth. Most memorably, a joke about their shared fashion taste had the partyâs favorite dungeon master quite literally wheezing on the shag carpet, clutching his sides as if heâd never recover from the sheer hilarity of it all.
Or perhaps he was thinking of the high pitched yelp of laughter that broke free every time he was caught off guard. As much as Eddie hated to be genuinely scared, he found way too much amusement in getting jump scared. Shitty horror films, friends hiding behind doors, or even that lame haunted house from Halloweenâ All of the above earned the same result, a shriek that dissolved into laughter about halfway through.
Then again, they werenât all bubbly and loud. Eddieâs laughter could be soft and sweet too, harboring an almost shy cadence when the time called for it andâŠ
Itâs at this exact moment, with utensils ever so neatly tucked into napkins and plates set along the grand mahogany dining room table, that Steve realizes heâs been thinking about Eddie Munson way too much. All it took was one crappy little chuckle, one silly reaction to a half assed joke, for his thoughts to wander. Anything the other said during his trance was a mystery, though as that playful voice came back into frame, Steve figured the context clues were probably easy enough to figure out.
â-not a fighter, clearly. Maybe a Paladin or a bard. One thing is for sure, youâd definitely play an elf or a half elf. A prince maybe. Estranged?â Eddieâs rambles are definitely pointed towards him, although itâs clearly more of a conversation with himself than anything else.
Calf crossed over thigh, he sits on the kitchen counter. Pale hands hold a green piping bag steady over a tray of freshly cooked sugar cookies, adding some ghoulish finishing touches. âJust say the word, Big Boy, and Iâll create the most perfect, personalized Steve Harrington campaign of the year.â
âYou mean the only Steve Harrington campaign of the year?â Steve retorts.
Just like always, sarcasm drips from his lips like honey. Even after volunteering his house, time and energy to Eddie and his Hellfire Goblins, the self proclaimed babysitter still canât seem to fight his natural born grumpiness.
That persona was like a security blanket or a teddy bear; Steveâs always relied on it to make the world less scary or more accurately, to make himself less vulnerable. The Harrington Boy, The King, The Babysitter, every new iteration had improvements, but they also had one thing in common: A security mechanism, an off switch of sorts. Something that Eddie Munson clearly lacked.
âOnly cause youâre a buzzkill.â Eddie insists, licking a bit of green from his fingertips.
The cookies are far from perfect but theyâll undoubtedly impress the kids. Dark eyes examine each one with a precision he definitely didnât supply when creating them, though eventually he deems them good enough with a dimpled grin and a cheeky thumbs up.
With two hours left on the clock, Eddie finds himself at a loss. All the fun tasks for the campaign tonight have been finished. Food and snacks were the first on the list to be crossed off with pizza scheduled for later and fresh baked cookies set to the side. Decorations were next. Everything from miniature figurines to home made maps to origami dragons and mini potion bottles for the kids filled with juice.
The idea to spike the potion bottles had been vetoed with a very amusing yet indignant huff. Despite Eddie's insistence that he was a 'born rebel' at fifteen, Steve refuses to give them a lick of alcohol before they hit senior year.
Aside from that, all that was left was mundane tasks like vacuuming or cleaning up the newly created mess in the kitchen. Most people would have cheered, thankful to finish their list of chores before the fun could begin. Though most people didnât have as much energy as Eddie Munson.
âWell this is it, Stevie.â Eddie pipes up a few moments later, watching the other brunette readjust the table settings for a bunch of soon to be sophomores who definitely wouldnât notice if the fork was on the left side or the right. âTwo hours left and youâre too busy turning my campaign into a murder mystery dinner to pay attention to me so clearly? Iâm dying. I canât believe Iâm gonna die of boredom in the Harrington Household⊠So big. So cold. So⊠white and mundane for someone as vibrant as myself.â
Eddieâs melodramatic performance is enough to peak Steveâs interest, but not his amusement.
âFinish Vacuuming the living room or stop complainingâ Steve answers flatly. Over time, heâs learned that playing into the antics only magnifies them. Ninety nine percent of the time, just disregarding Eddieâs insane childish tendencies made them go away. âBesides, you canât die from boredom.â
Ninety nine percent of the time, that would have worked.
Unfortunately, there was still that worrisome one percent to worry about.
âWell you might.â
âI might whatââ Oblivious as ever, Steve finally ditches the table settings. Turning on his heel, the brunetteâs lips are already parted, ready to question what the hell that response implies when he catches sight of the otherâs stance.
Kitchen counter long since abandoned, the feisty dungeon master is taking stake across the room. Socked feet slide across dark polished wood, eerily unsettling in the quiet pace they set. Pale hands are held up, turned into claws with wiggling fingers that make Steveâs stomach flip as uncertainty settles in.
âOkay, okay. You might not die from my boredom.â Eddie hums lowly, lips curling into a grin that can only be described as downright mischievous. Each word is drawn out slower than the last, anticipation building between the two. âBut you might not survive the cure. Let's see. I already tried knock knock jokes, barely effective. Funny movies, ehh somewhat worksâ Unless theyâre too weird. Then you just sit all grumpy and confusedâ Anyway, not the point! Dear Steven, my point isâŠâ
Similar to those puzzles Nancy used to force on him while babysitting Mike, he shouldâve figured it out sooner, but heâs definitely seeing the picture a bit more clearly with time. Theyâre approximately halfway through Eddieâs villainous monologue when it clicks. Every example revolves around making him laugh which is an incredibly flustering thought all on its own. Out of all the ways to cure his boredom, Eddie wanted to do so while making Steve smile. Most people focused on his hair, his ass, his better known assets.
Eddie Munson was the first person to ever fixate on something so mundane.
Thankfully, Steve doesnât have a second to worry about the heat crawling up the back of his neck, or the slowly developing crush that heâs most certainly going to ignore.
â⊠that I never asked if you were ticklish. Always felt like a cheap shot, you know? Low hanging fruit, but in the name of science, we do have to test everyââ And thatâs all it takes. The second the word ticklish leaves Eddieâs lips, the former jock is sprinting across the length of the dining room table and out of the room.
Heart hammering in his chest, the beat is so loud Steve can practically hear it ringing in his ears. White converse round a corner, running into the living room while quick footsteps sound close behind.
âOh come on, Pretty Boy.â Eddie snorts through a laugh of his own. âDonât run away from me!â
If he just looked back, he would have seen the way Eddie smiled at him from ear to ear, excitement and giddiness bursting from his pores. He would have seen the way the other nearly slipped in his socks, clearly lacking any grip as they ran around like little boys again. He would have seen the way those dark eyes lingered, how they drank him in, admiring his toned legs from years of athletics.
If he just looked back, maybe he would have registered how close he was to his demise. Then again, if he looked back, then Eddie might have seen how flustering that pet name was, or worse: He could have seen the smile tugging at his lips.
One foot rounds the corner of the couch but never gets the opportunity to touch down. Instead, fingers curl around the back of his sweater, swiftly pulling Steve until heâs falling. His back hits the sofa cushions with a soft grunt, brown locks splayed across the decorative pillow.
Everything flips in an instant. Eddieâs upper hand turns to shit the second he jumps onto the couch. Leaving more than enough room in between them, Steve takes the opportunity to act. Lightning quick reflexes give him just enough time to weave underneath the metalheadâs arm, flipping their positions until Eddieâs the one with his back against the couch and wide eyes looking up.
Though rather than looking scared he looks⊠exhilarated.
Any anxiety written across Steveâs face a minute ago is missing from Eddieâs now. As the general surprise wears off, he goes from wide eyed to giggly, immediately throwing his hands up in a mercy pose he knows wonât work. Wild curls fall in every direction, the occasional soft breathy laugh stumbling from his lips as he tries to worm out from underneath Steveâs pin.
âStevie, Câmon. I was just trying to have a little bit of fun- Wait wait- Steve Hey-â In the long debated question of Dungeon Master Vs. Varsity Athlete, they finally know who comes out on top. Eddieâs rambled mixture of explanations, apologies and pleas fall on deaf ears the second nimble fingers touch down on his sides.
One of the most accessible vantage points, it proves rather successful when one squeeze elicits a sharp huff, all the air in his lungs leaving at once. Eddieâs body instinctively tries to pull away again, hands attempting to intercept Steveâs insistent poking and prodding of the soft flesh.
The silence lasts all of seven seconds. Any attempt to threaten Steve dies on his lips, choked out to make room for all the laughter taking control. Immediately thrashing around to the best of his ability, itâs clear that Eddieâs not going down peacefully.
âA little bit of fun doing what, Eds?â Steve questions. âAnnoying me? Chasing me around my own house? I mean, shit, Munson. How the hell do you even have all of this energy? Honestly. I did you a favor flipping the tables, you clearly needed to tire yourself out.â
Each new guess and tease is accentuated with another poke at his vulnerable sides. One to the left right below his ribs, one to the right closer to his back, two on either side near his tummy, and one aimed in that squishy spot directly above his pantlineâ One that has his giggles interlaced with squeaks and squeals, struggling to handle any sort of stimulation that close to his hips.
âNohohoho not thehehere!â Eddie whines half heartedly, though Steve canât help but notice how little he fights back, hardly using any strength whatsoever in his attempts to grab onto those tortuous digits.
Thankfully for the thrashing Dungeon Master, Steve doesnât get the chance to drill his thumbs into the divots of his hips for very long. An incredible stop on his grand tour of Eddie Munsonâs giggle buttons, the destination proves to be too much. One sharp dig earns a yell so piercing the neighborâs dog begins to bark, rough hands diving forward to grab onto anything for some sort of stability.
What Eddieâs trained fingers find instead is that squeezing Steve Harringtonâs thighs renders the guy practically useless. A loud shriek splatters around the room, high pitched almost desperate giggles flying from his mouth. Any ounce of strength was sapped, curling up against Eddieâs chest in a way heâd swear was romantic in any other circumstance.
Umber eyes meet hazel, gazes locked with recognition on both sides before the tables are flipped yet again. Eddie hooks a leg underneath Steveâs knee, an arm worming out from below to wrap around his waist.
Before the Family Video employee can so much as suck in a breath from his fit of giggles, theyâre back in the original position with a self proclaimed babysitter pretending not to enjoy himself on bottom and a metalhead who couldnât hide it if he tried on top.
It turns out that Steve Harrington fucking shape shifts when you tickle him. The former jockâs confident sarcastic persona changes to something else entirely. If Eddieâs attempts to get away were half assed then Steveâs attempts donât exist. Every new spot or tactic is brought with a new form of laughter, but they all have the same thing in common:
Steveâs leaning into it.
Thereâs no denying it. When teasing nails drag up his side, he turns into the affection rather than away from it. When his lower stomach is kneaded like a fresh pile of dough, he leans forward instead of pushing back. And when thumbs drill into his armpits, the brunette actually attempts to keep his arms up or at least not locked at his sides god forbid their fun ends too soon after being blocked.
Of course, Steve doesnât notice this. Nor does he realize that Eddie was noticing this, but one of them has to be the observant one and itâs not the mess of giggles currently turning rosier with every passing second.
Itâs almost as if their enjoyment is the key. Once that last bit of hesitance drains out, calloused fingers waste no time. Eddie changes spots again, this time clawing at his ribs with a smile that reeks of both vengeance and affection, a combo punch that would have made Steve breathless if he wasnât already dissolving under deep belly laughter.
Thereâs way less talking now too. While Eddieâs an incredibly wiggly and talkative victim, babbling and thrashing through his hysterics, Steve seems to struggle getting anything out other than his laughter, only managing the occasional babble or squeal induced âEds!â.
Finally those skilled guitarist fingers choose to take pity on him, allowing Steve to actually get a word in.
âNohot⊠fair.â He breathes out through residual giggles. It doesnât matter that the tickling has since ceased. Ghost sensations still tease and taunt across his sensitive skin, mentally swearing that he could still feel those fingertips dancing across his torso.
Eddieâs endearment drips like honey, dark eyes warming at the sight of his friend still struggling to get his act together. âNo? I think that was totally fair. Plus, I slaved over those cookies, Stevie Boy. Heart and soul. Body and mind. Donât I deserve a little prize?â His lips curl into a wicked grin, knowing damn well that his next words would fluster more than soothe. âPerhaps shaped in the form of those cute ass giggles of yours?â
Just as expected, heat begins to crawl up the back of Steveâs neck at the sentiment, though the rosy hue on his face from earlier makes it easy to mask the blush currently spreading. As if proving Eddieâs point further, playful pokes return to Steveâs torso, randomly nudging little spots until heâs back to bubbly uncontrollable giggles.
Using the last bit of strength, he reaches out to give Eddieâs side a squeeze, earning matching breathy laughter in return.
The fight grows less clear after that. Stray pokes and occasional squeezes keep both boys giddy, lost in their own little bubble.
For as long as he could remember, Steve Harrington had been a fixer. Even when the most misguided, he tried to right his own wrongs as well as everyone elseâs around him. What began in early childhood as a terribly sad attempt of bringing his parents together had warped into a personality trait, a role he constantly forced himself to play out of fear of feeling useless.
But now the pressure of planning a perfect event for the kids is long forgotten and somehow he knows itâll all work out. Because Eddieâs laughter is interlaced with his, their cheeks rosy and breath staggered. Suddenly, that familiar ache in his chest doesnât feel quite as heavy as before and Steve realizes while doing absolutely nothing important at all, that he doesn't feel useless. He realizes that maybeâŠ
âHoholy Shit, Harrington. Forget weed. I think those damn giggles of yours got me high.â
Maybe this feeling between them was something else entirely.
Sometimes, Eddie Munson laughs and Steve wonders if love has always sounded like this.
A/N: MERRY CHRISTMAS, @hexalianrebel-blackfeathers!! đđâïž I am your provisional @squealing-santa this year~ I hope you enjoy this fic and I hope this is at least a biiit of what you wanted! I wish you a wonderful night, (whether you celebrate Christmas or don't!)!
Also thanks to the amazing @hypahticklish for hosting the event this year! You're so cool and you work so hard! I wish a Merry Christmas to you too~!
Prompt: Tsukishima âaccidentallyâ lets it slip to the entire team that Yamaguchi is probably the most ticklish person alive.
Once again, laughter ringed through the whole gym as Nishinoya and Tanaka tickled the youngest of the team to death. Even that pesky ball of orange energy was joining in on the fun, wiggling and squeezing his fingers over the victim's knees, making sure to avoid a kick to the face or any other part of the body.
"I sahahaid stahahap!"
Even though it was fun to see the King writhing on the ground and laughing like a ridiculous child, Tsukishima simply couldn't tear his eyes away from Yamaguchi's face.
If Tsukishima didn't know him better than the palm of his hand, he wouldn't had known if those praying eyes were because he wanted to join in or because he wanted to be in Kageyama's place, but then again, he knew Yamaguchi better than anyone and knew that he would really like to be in Kageyama's place right about now.
That was a secret that Yamaguchi hadn't even confessed to Tsukishima yet, but Tsukishima, being the observant person that he was, (it wasn't like Tadashi was very discreet, either), had noticed since they were very young that Yamaguchi, instead of trying to escape the annoying sensation of fingers touching his torso, wanting to make him laugh wildly, he leaned his body towards the sensation. Laughing happily, as if he was having the most fun ever.
His hands, uncoordinated because you just can't think straight when you're laughing your head off and your nervous system is overwhelmed, didn't even try to fight back, they just clinged to the person's wrists attacking him.
Besides, Tsukishima was one hundred percent sure that he had never heard Yamaguchi ask him (or anyone tickling him) to stop, in fact, usually he didn't even speak, he just threw his head back as he laughed and laughed and laughed.
So there was no doubt in Tsukishima's mind that Yamaguchi liked being tickled and Tsukishima didn't judge him for it, actually he thought it was really cute, though, he knew Yamaguchi would be embarrassed if Tsukishima ever mentioned that he knew his little secret.
He chuckled, sending another glance to Yamaguchi's gleaming eyes. He really couldn't be more obvious, could he? And yet, their stupid teammates just didn't notice how hard he wanted it.
Tsukishima really had to do the hard work all the time, huh?
Nishinoya, Tanaka and Hinata didn't stop until Kageyama was in hysterics as they destroyed the setter's hips, (Yamaguchi shuddering and squirming adorably), Daichi-san had to stop them with his own hands to let the poor kid breathe.
Laughing to themselves, they all sat against the wall together with Tsukishima and Yamaguchi; Yamaguchi jumped a little when Nishinoya leaned too close to him, a playful smile on his lips.
"You should join us next time, Yamaguchi!"
"E-Eh?! Ack!" He yelped when Nishinoya hit his back rather hard.
"Right, Ryuu?"
Tanaka laughed, scooting closer to Yamaguchi and also hitting him on the back with a bit too much force, making him cry in pain as Tsukishima frowned, fighting the urge to hit Tanaka in the head.
"Damn right! Tickling Kageyama is so much fun," he said and Kageyama, sitting beside Tsukishima with his face still red, huffed, crossing his arms and looking away. "I think he's the most ticklish person I know!"
"Wrong!" Nishinoya pipped in, slapping his own knee. "He is the most ticklish person ever!"
Not only Kageyama was embarrassed to the core in that moment, Tsukishima noticed, with much amusement that Yamaguchi, perhaps hearing that word jumping from side to side, was blushing to the tips of his ears, squirming slightly as he tried to keep a straight face.
Adorable.
"You both are wrong," Tsukishima suddenly said, making Noya, Tanaka and even Yamaguchi look up at him curiously. Tsukishima smirked, "I do know someone who's way more ticklish than the King himself."
"Oi!"
"What?!" Noya laughed. "First of all, do you know more people besides us?!"
Tanaka also laughed, squeezing Tsukishima's shoulder. "Noya is right! Who could you possibly know that-
It suddenly hit every person that was listening to their conversation, (that honestly could be the whole gym for how loud Tanaka and Nishinoya talked), and everyone turned their heads towards Yamaguchi.
Yamaguchi jumped, his face turning as red as a tomato as he looked between Tanaka and Nishinoya and then to Tsukishima, who was smirking and shrugging his shoulders.
"Yeah, I wonder who could it be..."
"Yamaguchi," Nishinoya said and Yamaguchi squeaked, looking at him. "Are you, perhaps, ticklish?"
Yamaguchi shook his head, "N-No! T-Tsukki is not talking about m-me!"
Honestly, if Tanaka and Nishinoya couldn't see how excited Yamaguchi looked right now, they were really so stupid.
"Haaa?!" Tanaka said, leaving Tsukishima shoulders to now grab Yamaguchi's. "There's no way Tsukishima knows anyone besides you!"
"Oi..."
"Were you hiding this from us, Yamaguchi?"
Yamaguchi shook his head rapidly, "No! I- I wasn't! I j-just- ah! W-Wait, I really am n-not, kuh- ahahahaha! Wahahahait!"
It was his laughter's turn to bounce against the gym's walls. Echoing into Tsukishima's ears over and over as Nishinoya and Tanaka finally tickled him.
"Damn, Tsukishima was not joking!" Tanaka said as he wiggled his fingers against Yamaguchi's sides.
"How could you hide this from us so well Yamaguchi?!" Nishinoya said as he clawed at Yamaguchi's lower sides.
Their touches weren't as hard as when they tickled Kageyama, but Yamaguchi was nearly cackling, his giggles turning into loud laughs as he squirmed on the floor.
Tanaka and Nishinoya laughed along with him, poking here and squeezing there to find Yamaguchi's weakest spots.
Tsukishima was trying hard to hide his smile as he looked at Tadashi laughing like that. Fuck, people really couldn't notice the extreme happiness on his face? He suddenly thought that, perhaps, he didn't want anyone to notice.
"N-Nohohoya-sahahahan!" Yamaguchi laughed, throwing his head back as Noya's fingers latched to his upper ribs.
"Agh! Ryuu! Yamaguchi keeps trying to stop me!" Tsukishima curled an eyebrow, Yamaguchi really wasn't trying to. "Could you do something?"
Tanaka smirked and Tsukishima understood. In a blink of an eye, Yamaguchi had his arms pinned above his head, making him shriek and arch his back as Nishinoya's fingers vibrated at his exposed ribs.
"N-NOHOHO! N-Nohohoyahaha-sahahan! Plehehease, I- gahahahaha!" Yamaguchi's laughter increased a bit more when Nishinoya moved to squeeze his hips.
"Shouyou!" Nishinoya suddenly yelled and in a second, that orange ball of energy was right by his side, smiling widely. "Help me out? Ryuu is a little busy at the moment."
Tanaka smirked, holding down Yamaguchi's arms, though, Tsukishima could clearly see that Yamaguchi wasn't putting up much of a fight.
Hinata beamed and, even before Tsukishima noticed it, his hands were already attached to Yamaguchi's stomach, clawing at it mercilessly. Yamaguchi's laughter went a little higher, more squeaky as his cheeks turned pink.
"Woah, Yamaguchi really is ticklish!" Hinata said wiggling his fingers all over his new victim's tummy.
"Hey, get his armpits!"
"NOHOHOHO!"
Nishinoya and Hinata quickly looked at each other with wide eyes, smirks pulling at their lips. They both left the spots they were tickling and quickly moved to Yamaguchi's underarms.
"AHAHAHA! N-Nohoho! Plehehease, not thehehere!" Yamaguchi threw his head back with wild laughter.
They each took one poor armpit, so they had two hands to go crazy with: on one side, scratching, on the other, digging and then pinching; and then at the other, clawing and poking. Rubbing, digging, wiggling- just every technique their little brains could think of to drive Yamaguchi up the wall.
And they were achieving it. Yamaguchi was losing his mind, laughing in hysterics as Nishinoya and Hinata tickled his worst spot. Tsukishima almost felt bad... if Yamaguchi didn't look like he was having the time of his life, that was.
"Tickle, tickle, Yamaguchi~," they teased and both Tsukishima and Kageyama cringed as Yamaguchi blushed to his ears.
"It tihihickles so bahahad, plehehease!"
Tanaka, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, be can't even talk!"
Hinata, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, I think he'll explode!"
Nishinoya, "Yamaguchi is so ticklish, he'll-
"Oi, you three!" two shrieks could be heard and they didn't come from Yamaguchi. They belonged to Nishinoya and Hinata as Daichi-san had grabbed them by their shirt collars and yanked them away from Yamaguchi. "You're being too much, that's torture!"
Was it really torture if the one being tortured is having fun? Tsukishima wondered.
"Tanaka, let go of your kohai!" Tanaka whined but he did what he was told and freed Yamaguchi's arms, the poor boy quickly pulled them down as he let out residual giggles.
"I am going to ban this stupid game from this gym! You're a menace! What would you have done if Yamaguchi passed out, huh? You three really should learn...-"
Yamaguchi, shaking slightly, quickly crawled back beside Tsukishima, sitting down with a long, satisfied sigh.
Tsukishima looked at him and he smirked, "was that fun?"
Yamaguchi flushed, sending a shy glance to Tsukishima, "you're the worst, Tsukki."
Tsukishima chuckled, "Well, I just said you were the most ticklish person ever, I didn't tell them to check it out, did I?"
Yamaguchi huffed, but a shy smile pulled at the corners of his lips, making something in Tsukishima's chest flutter warmly and he couldn't help but discreetly reach out to link his pinky with Yamaguchi's.
It was painfully obvious that Yamaguchi liked being tickled, but Tsukishima was glad that this bunch of idiots didn't notice because, even though Tadashi hadn't told him directly, it was their little shared secret and Tsukishima was glad he was the only one to know about it!
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summary: aziraphale tries to make crowley laugh. usually, he fails.
a/n: merry christmas, @aaaxolotl !! i hope you enjoy your gift :) thank you so much to @hypahticklish for hosting this year! note that i havenât seen good omens since it came out, sorry for any mischaracterisation!!
[this is a sfw tickle fic!]
ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»ă»
A question gnaws at the back of Aziraphaleâs mind.
Heâs not sure where it came from, but heâs certain it wonât leave until he knows the answer. He glances at Crowley, who looks so at peace, but he has the terribly strong urge to ruin it. It seems silly to think about, really, but the more the question lingers the more Aziraphale craves to know.
Is CrowleyâŠticklish?
Aziraphaleâs first thought is, no, of course not. His second thought is, but why not? Thereâs no reason why Crowley wouldnât be. Aziraphale himself is rather sensitive in that way, so it isnât like itâs a trait shared only by mortals. As he thinks about it more, Aziraphale finds he really, really wants to know.Â
He canât just ask, of course. The chances of Crowley lying are too high, and then Crowley would catch on to what he was doing and hide away any reactions he may have. Aziraphale has to be subtle about this.
He sits next to Crowley and extends his wing out, curling it around Crowley and pulling him into his side. Crowley pays no mind, leaning against Aziraphale and continuing to read the book heâd been given. Aziraphale hums quietly, then slips his wing under Crowleyâs shirt so his feathers dance along bare skin. Very subtle.
Crowley twitches minutely, but otherwise shows no other signs of even feeling it. He says nothing, not even looking up at the angel. Internally, Aziraphale sighsâitâs almost external, too, until he remembers Crowley is there. Of course, this doesnât mean Crowley isnât ticklish. It simply means heâs either very good at concealing his reactions, or heâs just not ticklish in that particular spot. Both of which are equally possible.
Aziraphale reconsiders what heâs gotten himself into.
Itâs years later when he tries again.
They sit side by side, and Aziraphale had purposefully placed his mug just out of reach. He waits until theyâre both settled in, then leans across Crowley, placing his hand on the demonâs knee to steady himself. He gives his knee a small squeeze, bracing himself in case it does get a reaction.
It doesnât.
Aziraphale readjusts his hand, trying not to seem suspicious, and squeezes againâthis time at Crowleyâs thigh. Again, nothing.
Aziraphale grabs his cup and sits back. Well.
Throughout their time together those few days, Aziraphale makes several attempts; he finds ways to poke at Crowleyâs hips, nudge him in his ribs, prod under his arms, and it all results in failure. If Crowleyâs caught on to what heâs doing, he doesnât mention it, but maybe it would explain the lack of any reaction at all. Or maybe Crowley just isnât ticklish, which is starting to seem more and more likely. Aziraphale is close to resigning his mission. It seems silly to think about, really. Why would a demon from Hell be something as childish as ticklish?
-
Crowley is ticklish.
Crowley. Is ticklish.
Told you so, says the part of Aziraphaleâs brain that started this whole mess in the first place. He ignores it in favour of his newfound discovery.
He wouldnât have even noticed if not for this whole ordeal. It was only a slight response, but as Aziraphale walked by, his wings brushed Crowleyâs ear and thenâthere was a quiet, sharp intake of breath, and that was all Aziraphale needed.
âAre you alright?â asks Aziraphale, as if he has no clue what heâs just done.
âOf course, angel,â says Crowley, nonchalantly. Not suspecting a single thing.
Crowleyâs head is turned, so Aziraphale takes the chance to raise his wing and repeat the action. Crowley, this time, flinches so subtly that it would go unnoticed on any other occasion.Â
âCrowley,â begins Aziraphale, âyou wouldnât be ticklish, now, would you?â
Crowley tenses up. âOf course not,â he hums.
Aziraphale steps closer, as Crowley steps back. âSo, if Iââ
âFine, angel, youâve got meââ
âI think I need to test this new information.â
Crowley sighs, but he allows Aziraphale to move even closer to him. âThis really wonât be necessaâhaharyâc-cohome on nohowâ-â
Aziraphale curls a few feathers around Crowleyâs ear, and he absolutely relishes in the quiet giggles he receives in return. Theyâre softer than would be expected from someone like Crowley, but they carry a bit of his rasp, and they arenât very loud either, but theyâre from Crowley, so Aziraphale loves them regardless.
What makes it even better, in Aziraphaleâs opinion, is how Crowley lets him continue for as long as heâd like.
Itâs the Sweetest Thing, Remembering (Hermione/Ron)
Summary: Being married to your childhood best friend comes with some interesting consequences, like how he remembers all your embarrassing crushes, as well as all of your ticklish spots. (Happy holidays!! This is my Squealing Santa fic for...drumroll...@misssassyrox!! Thank you to our lovely host, @hypahticklish as well!! I hope the holiday season is lovely for you all, no matter what you celebrate!!)
Being married to her childhood best friend had its pros and cons, Hermione had realized. Of course, eleven-year-old Hermione had no way of knowing that the redhead boy sitting across from her on the Hogwarts Express would one day be her husband, and would probably have turned up her nose at the idea of it.
The pros of it included the familiarity, the existing bond between them, as well as the bonds with one anotherâs families, the mutual friends, the inside jokes, and having someone to understand the nightmares. The biggest con in her opinion was that Ron seemed to remember every embarrassing thing she had ever done, and loved to bring up those moments.
The teasing moments included Ron mentioning her past crushes on the likes of Viktor Krum and Professor Lockhart, or her know-it-all attitude (which had only faded slightly as sheâd aged) or how terrible sheâd been in flying lessons.
She teased back, of course. Sheâd shoot back with mentions of Fleur (who had since become his sister-in-law, only adding humor to the situation) or the arachnophobia he still carried.
Although Hermione was normally a no-nonsense type of person, Rob brought out the joking, playful manner within her. She still liked to pretend that she was above it all, but he always got her smiling in the end.
Which was precisely how theyâd ended up with Hermione gently pinned to their sofa, giggling like mad. She had shot back to one of Ronâs quips with the memory of Fred and George tickling him to tears on more than one occasion. Her final comment had been something along the lines of: âAt least Iâm not as ridiculously ticklish as you are.â
Ronâs eyebrows had raised, although his freckled cheeks had turned a soft shade of pink. âOh, youâre not ticklish? I remember differentlyâŠâ
âI never said that,â she replied, voice wavering ever-so-slightly at the dangerous glint in his eyes. âI just said Iâm not as bad as you.â
âI suppose thereâs only one way to find out,â he said.
She took off down the hallway, but it was impossible to escape his long arms and quick strides. Soon, he grabbed her around the waist and wrestled her to the cushions of their sitting room couch and, well, the rest was history.
Long fingers danced from her hip to her armpit and back down, playing her sensitive spots like a harp, making undignified giggles pour from her lips.
âThis is silly!â she managed to cry out between those aforementioned giggles.
Ron gasped in mock offense. âI thought you of all people, my little nerd, would find testing a theory silly. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?â he asked, bending his head to press a quick kiss to her neck. He hadnât shaved that morning, and his stubble against her skin only made her laugh more, scrunching up her shoulder to protect herself.
But his hold on her was too generous, giving her enough room to gain full use of her hands and strike back, going for his belly, short nails scrabbling over the fabric of his thin t-shirt. His shocked gasp of laughter was music to her ears.
âIt would be a faulty test if we didnât consider the other alternative,â she said, grinning like a cat that had caught the canary.
Ron was still hovering over her, careful to not go crashing down on top of her, though the ticklish sensation was slowly turning his limbs to jelly. One arm kept himself upright by grasping the back of the couch, while the other moved to pinch at the horribly ticklish spot on her inner thigh, drawing a shriek from her.
When Ron had first found out that Hermione was ticklish, he was thrilled. It was the summer before their third year when heâd been pulling a stray leaf out of her hair and brushed against her neck, making her giggle. And while he usually went after Harry more often, Hermione often found herself giggling at his hand quite a bit. She, of course, had known he was ticklish almost from the beginning, not that it was something she would have considered if she hadnât witnessed it first hand. Tickling was a common event in the Weasley household, whereas Hermioneâs parents had stopped tickling her by the time she was ten-years-old.
Their tickle fights hadnât been extremely common, but a few stuck out: The first time, after the leaf incident, which Hermione had lost without much of a winning chance; the battle over the last of Mrs. Weasleyâs oatmeal cookies that had left Ron with a bloody nose when he went for her feet; the first time Hermione ever won, when she discovered how he crumpled when his ribs were tickled.
And, of course, the most recent one, the experiment that they were conducting as a newly-wed couple. No mercy was shown; Hermione went for his ribs while he squeezed at her thighs, and their laughter mixed like elements to a beautiful song until Ron cried out for a truce.
There was a small part of Hermione that didnât want to settle for a truce, but her throat was growing dry and her belly ached from all the giggling, so she nodded her head vigorously and both of them slowed their tickling hands to a stop.
âI guess we are pretty even when it comes to ticklishness,â Ron said, still slightly breathless.
Hermione chuckled, shaking her head fondly. âI guess so,â she replied. âWhat an important discovery.â
Ron grinned, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips. âOf course it is! Absolutely vital information.â
âJust some more blackmail that we have on one another,â Hermione added.
âOh, definitely. My beautiful wife, with her ticklish thighs and big, fat crush on Gilderoy Lockââ
A quick attack to his neck had Ron stuttering an apology through a fit of giggles. Perhaps the pros of marrying her childhood best friend far outweighed the cons.
(A/N: Ahhh, the holiday season has kept me busy but Iâm glad to finally be able to post this, this is for Spooky!Anon, and it was very fun to write! Truthfully, I didnât touch Genshin for quite awhile, but this fic (along with the release of The Wanderer, but mostly this fic) did inspire me to finally get back into the swing of it Genshin Impact, research characters, along with regrow and light the spark of loving them once more! I truly had a blast with writing this and I never wrote for this pairing before so it was very intriguing! So Iâm glad I got to write it and I really hope it was to your liking! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all!)
(Warnings: Tickles, nothing else!)
(Prompt: [Tickly cuddles n chase scenarios (or suprise me!!)])
Today was a day like any other, a peaceful, yet beautiful day. Liyue was in the winter season, elegant white snow falling to the ground as a certain archon bard and an adepti were cuddling up with one another, Venti sleepily leaning on Xiao as the Yaksha stared out at the snow falling to the ground.
âHmm.â
Venti perked up at the noise from Xiao. âHm? Something wrong?â The bard asked with a yawn, finally somewhat waking up from his slumber.
âMm-mm.. just watching the snow fall⊠it isnât often we get it here in Liyue.â The adepti stated, and admittedly, the snow was pleasant to Xiao! So he surely wasnât upset over that in the slightest. Nor was the cold too bothersome to him. Venti was quite warm after all.
However, Venti let out a small laugh. âYeheah! I forgot that snow isnât too common here compared to Mondstadt. You like eating the snow a lot too.â He grinned as the fellow anemo user whom he had blessed with the vision nodded his head. âItâs good. Thatâs all.â
âWell, perhaps you should come to Mondstadt more! Everything is super festive there, along with lots of snow! And Iâd be your guide after all.â Venti playfully nudged the stone cold, straight faced Xiao a few times as he grumbled like the big grump he was.
âOh come on! Donât be like that!â Venti giggled at the âtough guyâ who was refusing to smile. âCome on! Please?â Nothing. âIâll be nice, I wonât even go into the tavern.â Nothing. ââŠIâll get almond tofu?â A slight twitch at his lips, but alas, still nothing.
âOh thatâs it. Just know you asked for it!â
Just like that, Xiao felt a smile tugging at his lips upon feeling wiggling fingers at his sides, trying to squirm away from the tickles causing giggles to flow from his mouth. âHehey!â He raised his voice, trying to be a little stand-off-like. To Venti, he simply found it to make his giggles louder and much more pleasing!
âEhe! Hi!â The bard playfully greeted the Yaksha who kept squirming and giggling away. âStohohop ihihit!â Xiao snickered before finally wiggling out of the archonâs grasp, quickly running to the edge balcony where he usually lurked, taking a leap from it and summoning his polearm, sharply deciding to lunge to the ground and did so with ease.
However this caused a mischievous chuckle from the bard, a grin appearing on his face as he dashed to the balcony, quickly using his wind to get to the ground fast yet break his fall, landing on his feet.
âOho! Câmere Xiao! Youâre being a grump and the tickle monster needs to tickle all the grumpiness out of you!â
Just like that, Venti began to rush towards Xiao, the polearm userâs hair puffing up and standing on its ends as he quickly stumbled to turn around since he was facing the bow user, then began to run away from Venti in a haste. And the chase began!
With the two anemo vision holders dashing through the snow, one of them, being Xiao, picked up some snow before throwing it at Venti who laughed in response. âAww! Donât be so mean now!â âThen stop chasing me!â And once again, a snowball was thrown at Venti as they ran.
However, a detail worth noting was the smile spreading across the darker of the two, the one whoâs being chased, Xiao⊠admittedly, whether he liked it or not, he was having⊠fun! It felt silly and it reminded him of memories. Fond ones. Not that heâd admit heâs having fun, but this was making him much less grumpy and cold due to the playfulness.
But after a moment, due to thinking back on memories, Xiao snapped back to reality as Venti tackled him into the cold white snow, a small huff escaping the vigilant demon hunter. âCaught youuu!â âDonât!â Xiao quickly spoke, causing the clever lyre player to grin. âDonât what?â
âT-Tickle me!â
âOh? Well of course!â
And with the yakshaâs failure to see the trick coming, he burst back into bunches of giggles from scribbling fingers on his ribs, wiggling side to side as the skilled fingers from the lyre player tickled away. âKitchee Kitchee koo!â âShuhush!â Xiao immediately became defensive, feeling a little bit of red creep onto his face from the tease.
The tough yet horribly ticklish demon slayer began to squirm around from the ticklish feeling. âHehehey! Ohohoff! D-Dohohonât be soho chihildish!â He demanded despite enjoying the silly nature of it, honestly⊠if this is what if this is like in more casual and enduring settings, he didnât mind! It made the winter season somehow more joyful for him.
âDonât be so mean now! Thatâs it! Now I have to use my secret weapon!â âWhahat secrehetâ weAPOHOHON!? HEHEHEY! GEHhehet ohohout Of thEHERE!â Xiao shrieked out with his usual stand-off tone. Or rather âattemptingâ since his laughter majorly sabotaged it, also attempting to bat and shove the bardâs hands out from underneath his shirt.
âEhe. Why would I do that?â Venti played all innocent. âBEHEHECAUSE! YOHOUR HAhahaNDS AHAHahare cohold!â
âOho! And here I thought you were so tough, now you canât handle the cold. I donât think thatâs it⊠I think you canât handle something elseâŠâ Venti suddenly stopped the tickly feeling that was causing the demon hunter to squirm and thrash around.
âWh-Whahat?â Xiao giggled softly, clearly confused by the words coming from Venti, and just equally as confused by the fact he had stopped.
âDonât be all silly⊠I think you, Xiao, an adepti, canât handle how ticklish you are!â
Xiao would be lying if he said he didnât get flustered and go slightly red.
Xiao also would be lying if he said he didnât shriek upon feeling those ice cold hands underneath his shirt wiggle onto his stomach.
âSo this is super ticklish for you?â Venti, obviously well aware of Xiaoâs reaction, decided to play dumb to tease the squealy yaksha. The wind archonâs wiggling fingers traveling up and all around Xiaoâs stomach, âclawingâ playfully at the sensitive spot as Xiaoâs laughter became louder with the more time the skilled bard spent tickling him.
âVEHEHENTI!â Xiao finally called out, a squeal escaping him and causing his laugh to go up a octave.
âYes, Sir Giggles?â
âIâM SOHOHORRY!â
Now thatâs a surprising sight!
âAww, for being a big grump?â
In any other case, Xiao wouldâve glared and gave a snarky comment, but right now wasnât much like any other case. But Xiao gave a quick nod to reply.
âAhaww! Well, out of respect for anything left of your dignity, Iâll accept your apology, Grumps and Giggles!â Ah nicknames.
Honestly, Venti wasnât sure he wanted to stop, Xiao wasnât a laugher, a smiler, or anything like that! So to hear him laughing so freely and bubbly, a smile covering his face as he twitched around and squealed in ticklish joy was beyond enduring and lighthearted, and as much as he wanted to continue, he figured heâd gotten the grumpy mood out of the picture. Besides, there was still much more time in the day to tickle him⊠ahem.
But finally, the demon slaying yaksha was released from the tickle attack, a bunch of residue giggles escaping him begrudgingly, but if he was honest⊠he didnât mind too much. He much rather think and deal with this and all the tickles and giggling that came with it than sulk.
âYou alright?â The bard asked, also replied to by a giggly nod as Xiao slowly stood back to his feet alongside the man from Mondstadt. âHmm⊠how about this, letâs go back, and we can make something like hot cocoa!â
âHot⊠cocoa?â
The usually very defensive man questioned. âNever had that before?â Another silent reply, this time a shaking head to show he hadnât. âWell! Youâre in for a treat.â Venti claimed, gently scribbling and wiggling his fingers across Xiaoâs sides; a burst of giggles escaping before the archon began to pull the polearm user behind him.
Apparently Barbatos decided not even 3 minutes after he had stopped was later in the day. But to him, it was worth it to hear that burst of bubbly and squeaky giggles from Xiao.
âWell come on, Grumps and Giggles!â Venti exclaimed as he allowed the winds to swoop them both up and lift them to the balcony.
Needless to say after they both surrounded themselves with blankets, Venti had made some hot cocoa for the two of them, allowing themselves to be warm and watch the snow fall once more with a lighthearted and joyful feeling that the holidays and winter brought.
ââŠVenti?â âHmâŠ?â
ââŠThank you.â
A small giggle escaped the bard.
âMhm⊠Just know you arenât safe from the cold hands!â
Within moments, Xiao found himself laughing once more, kicking out with joyful sounds and noises.
âVEHEHEâ!â Xiao fumbled out in ticklish glee, Venti with a grin on his face before Xiaoâs hands began to gently scribble at a certain bardâs hips, causing a giggle filled with hiccups along with the bardâs hands stopping their âattackâ to retract and defend from the ticklish sensation. âWOHOHOAH! wahAHAIT! XIAHAHAO!â The archon squealed before the fellow man slowly flashed a smile, his hands quickly making work of Ventiâs hips, causing laughter.
Needless to say this is going to be a eventful day of snow and giggles.