squealing-santa

[squealing-santa]

Last year we went with July, but....

[squealing-santa]

Last year we went with July, but....

#tickletober 2024 #event signal boost

[squealing-santa]

Playful/fluffy Sasunaru

Woohoo a @squealing-santa gift for @kiwitickleart !!!

Image caption under the cut!

Image Caption:

Image #1

[Sasuke]: HA HA NOOOHOHO NA-HAHA NARUTO! PLEASE HA HA

[Naruto]: HEH HEH

Image #2

[Sasuke]: pant pant pant O-OKAY… OKAY…

#tickle art #artist: tickle-fight-club #naruto #ss2k23 #squealing santa 2k23 #lee!sasuke #ler!naruto

[squealing-santa]

OOPS haha definitely wasnt meant to have this done like four days ago but i was #down with the sickness (chest infections4life) anyyyeay done now! here you go @the-gingerbread-lee

and happy very late @squealing-santa !

word count: 997

pairing: Lee!Todoroki /& Ler!Midoriya

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of Midoriya’s favourite things about living at U.A. was the campus. Not just the state of the art gyms and dorms, but the large expanse of parks and forestry surrounding the main buildings. It was beautiful, in between all the facilities there were parks with soft grass, tall trees and flower beds. It was a favourite study spot for many students, including Midoriya.

He lay on his back, head propped up against his study-buddy’s thighs as he worked through his art homework. The study buddy in question was Todoroki, sitting upright against the tree and resting his book against Midoriya’s head. It was something of a symbiotic relationship.

They were the only ones in the park, given that the grounds were otherwise covered in a foot of snow. Only a small ring of dry grass prevailed around the tree where they sat, kept warm by Todoroki’s quirk.

Midoriya shifted, adding a little more shading to the drawing, causing Todoroki’s textbook to fall to the ground.

“Sit still.” He grumbled, picking it up.

“Meh meme me meh.” Midoriya grumbled back playfully. He waited a second, then twitched again, sending the textbook tumbling into the grass.

Todoroki glared as Midoriya beamed up at him.

He picked the textbook up and lightly hit Midoriya on the head with it, then set it back down.

Midoriya glanced back at his work. It was nearly finished, and he had a while before needing to hand it in. Moreso, the prospect of messing with the usual stoic boy was quite appealing. He and Todoroki had been getting closer, and with that came a surprising discovery that Todoroki could be quite playful. The two had spent countless hours rolling around on the floor, on the bed, the dorm’s sofa, the list goes on. Midoriya cast another glance at his work, then grinned.

Now on a mission, he counted to 60… then twitched.

“Midoriya!” Todoroki snapped, “Stop annoying me, I’m almost done.”

“But you’re so fun to pester~.” Midoriya cooed back.

Then his head fell back and lightly hit the ground as Todoroki shuffled away, smirking slightly.

“Aww come on Shoto~, don’t be like that.” Midoriya said, but was unable to keep the grin off his face.

“I am like that.” Todoroki responded, staring at his math homework.

To most, Todoroki would look slightly stern and annoyed. But to eagle eyed viewers such as Midoriya, his ears were slightly red, his eyes were unfocused and his fingers were drumming on the page. He was waiting in anticipation.

Quietly, Midoriya sat up and kneeled next to him, pressing his face into Todoroki’s.

“Whatcha doin’?” He asked.

“Concentrating, now will you pleas- ACK! Midoriya!”

“Todoroki,” Midoriya smiled, pulling his hand away from his ribs, “What’s wrong?”

Todoroki glared but said nothing, moving to stare back at his work.

Midoriya poked him again.

He twitched.

Another poke.

Another twitch.

“Are you ignoring me?”

Another poke.

“I aham- I am not.”

…

Midoriya attacked, wriggling his fingers into Todoroki’s ribs as he suddenly jolted, dropping his book. Quickly as he could, Todoroki stumbled to his feet, backing away into the cold snow.

“Midoriya, what about our work- Midoriya, please.” He begged. It was strange to see him so emotive, but whenever they engaged in fights like these it brought out an unseen childish side of him, something that Midoriya adored.

“I’m gonna getcha~.” He teased, advancing with wiggling fingers.

Todoroki took off, running through the snow and carving a smooth path through the field. Midoriya raced after him. He almost tripped on a hidden rock and stumbled, and Todoroki grew further away. He ran faster, and debated using Full Cowl to bring him up to speed when Todoroki began to turn slightly, allowing Midoriya to put on a final burst of speed and pounce.

Todoroki yelled out in shock, falling into the cold snow, which quickly melted under him. He was hot all over, from his quirk, the burst of exercise and general embarrassment at their situation.

“Gotcha.” Midoriya grinned, using Blackwhip to (unfairly) pin his arms to his sides.

Todoroki huffed, wiggling a little to no avail.

“Very classy.” He said, deadpan.

Midoriya just smiled, bringing his hands up to tap along Todoroki’s ribs. He twitched a little, but the hoodie he was wearing protected him, a little. Countering this, Midoriya’s hands crept down, further and further until they reached the edge of his jumper, then they darted under, his fingers scratching at the thin t-shirt that covered Todoroki’s stomach.

He yelped, not expecting the sudden assault and began squirming in earnest.

“Mihihidorihiyaha!” He cried, writhing, “We’re ihin puhublihic!”

Midoriya lifted his head and looked from side to side, letting his hands drift to Todoroki’s sides.

“I don’t see anyone. Besides, your laugh is so cute! I think everyone deserves to hear it, you should definitely laugh more.”

“SHUHUHUT THEHE FUHUHUHUK UHUP!” Todoroki screamed, his back arching as Midoriya grasped at his sides.

“Wow, such harsh words. You wound me, Todoroki.”

“IHIHIT JUST TIHIHIHCKLEHES, PLEHEHEAHASE!”

“Fine, fine~, I won't pester you much longer.”

He grinned.

“But first,” Using Blackwhip, he brought Todoroki’s hands up beside his head, smiling wider when they trembled for him to put them down.

“You can always tell me to stop~.” He cooed.

Todoroki looked at him, eyes bright, face flushed and a wobbly smile on his lips, and looked away.

“Well, if you say so.” With that, he dove his hands into Todoroki’s underarms, scratching lightly and watching as Todoroki howled with laughter beneath him.

As he did, soft flakes of snow began to fall from the sky and land around them.

With Todoroki’s melodic laughter, the heat from his body washing away the cold and the beautiful snow, it couldn’t have been a better day.

#ler!midoriya #lee!todoroki #mha tickling #squealing santa 2k23 #author: tricks-tickles #ss2k23

[squealing-santa]

What's Going On With You?

A/N - Hey @crazy-as-a-jaybird I was told that Santa may have missed your chimney this year. Well thankfully, I'm one of his elves and I am here to give your fic at long last! Sorry things had fallen through with Santa, but I am here to lighten your day with some Hamilton fluff (and some sads, but shush). As always, thank you @squealing-santa for the event and for @hypahticklish for organizing everything and letting me be the pinch hitter for this gift! I madly appreciate it! Anyways, onto the fic!

Word Count: 1,961

            “How’d you fuck up this time?” Hamilton all but purred as Burr walked past his seat, looking as dejected as possible, an older dog that’s been passed over at the shelter for the umpteenth time. Hamilton would never admit that Burr’s face made him feel a tinge of sadness; the poor man had clearly just gone through some shit, but Burr had been actively trying to make Hamilton’s life a living hell for years. Of course, Hamilton was going to have to have a little bit of fun kicking the man while he was down. “Washington isn’t a fan of stupid ideas.”

            “Shut up, Hamilton,” Burr snapped, but there was little malice behind his words. He just sounded tired. His eyes were dim, hands in his pockets, as he just walked past his rival.

            Hamilton visibly flinched as Burr brushed past him. Clearly something bad must have happened to Burr; the man could never resist the urge to speak his mind.

            Hamilton trailed him, walking down the hall full of doors and down the steps. Just as Burr was reaching from the front door, Hamilton grabbed his wrist and dragged him into another room which served as the main chamber for senate meetings. The last meeting had been adjourned hours before, so the room was empty and dark, the only light was the soon to be setting sun radiating from the two windows.

            “Hamilton! What is the meaning of this?” Burr growled as he was pushed into one of the long wooden benches, his back laying flat on the hard wood. As he struggled to get up, like a flipped turtle, Hamilton took a seat on his legs, ignoring how uncomfortable the position was for them both.

            “What is going on with you?” Hamilton asked, though it sounded more like a statement. He was annoyed, not one to be ignored.

            “What is going on with you?” Burr countered, waving his arms to gesture at Hamilton’s position. “And why the hell do you care about how I feel? It’s not like I matter to you. Washington chose you, go be his right hand man. Let me go and be nothing to you, to him.”

            Hamilton’s expression lightened; his snarl slipped into a frown.

            “What?” His voice was soft, quiet.

            Burr turned his head, staring at the back of the bench as he bit his lip.

            “It doesn’t matter,” He whispered, the condensation of his breath moistening the polished wood his nose was pressed into. “Please, let me go.”

            Without a word, Hamilton obliged. Burr’s joints popped as he got up, trapping a groan in his throat so Hamilton wouldn’t hear. He left the room, closing the door gently, and stood on the other side for a minute, expecting to be followed.

            “I’m sorry,” Burr mumbled under his breath as he continued on, leaving the building with his eyes made of glass.

            “I’m sorry,” Hamilton mumbled under his breath as he stood alone in the darkening room. For one of the only times in his life, Hamilton did not know what to do.

***

            A month had passed without incident. If Burr saw Hamilton anywhere, he would put his head down and keep walking. Thankfully, these encounters were limited. Hamilton became busy with his writings as Burr was busying himself with other endeavors while in the senate, one of which was taking care of Theodosia. It was cathartic, enjoying every second he got to spend with his daughter, but some days he would look at her beautiful face of ten years and have the sudden urge to cry.

            One night, after a particularly grueling senate meeting that had him and Samuel Johnston, the senator from North Carolina, in a heated yelling match. Luckily, most had turned out well for Burr, but he was still exhausted. All he wanted to do was rest, but it seemed that God had other plans for him that night.

            “Burr?” A voice sounded behind him, freezing him in his tracks. Burr’s hands shook, realizing that as he had been lost in his thoughts, he had somehow managed to walk right passed Hamilton without noticing. Burr stood there in silence, body rigid. “Burr, we need to talk.”

            “We do.”

            After an awkwardly silent walk, Burr brought Hamilton back to his house. Theodosia greeted her father with a hug and a polite curtsey to the other man.

            “Mr. Hamilton, sir,” Theodosia said with a fake, polite smile. She knew this man had upset her father, somehow, but her father hadn’t said much on the matter. And instead of lingering, Theodosia excused herself to her room and left the two men to their own devices.

            They were silent for quite some time, eyes locked as Burr stared Hamilton down as he sat in the center of the couch, hands clasped on his lap.

            “I’m sorry,” Hamilton said first. He always had to be first. “I overstepped. I should have left you alone.”

            “No, I was the one that overacted. I was upset so I got defensive,” Burr stared at the floor as he spoke. “I guess, I just didn’t realize you cared.”

            “Why wouldn’t I?” Hamilton countered; his eyes bore into Burr’s slumped figure. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t care.”

            “Hmm.”

            “I guess I didn’t realize you were a dumbass.”

            Burr’s jaw slumped as he gaped at the man across from him, though he was able to spot the mischievous glint in the man’s eyes, and quickly pursed his lips together into the faintest of smiles.

            “I care about your feelings, even if you’re the biggest pain in my ass,” Hamilton crossed his arms, smirking as he leaned back into the couch. “Besides, you are absolutely no fun when you’re sad.”

            “Is that so?”

            “Of course! Who else am I going to pester? Washington can only take so much of my banter.”

            Burr let out a soft chuckle, dropping his eyes to the floor in embarrassment.

            “Was that a laugh I heard?” Hamilton mused, his pitch rising in excitement.

            Burr felt his cheeks heat up. He didn’t know why, but Hamilton’s excitement always had this effect on him. It was contagious how lit up Hamilton could get about most things. He hadn’t the slightest idea what Hamilton was intending, but he bit his lip to hold back a smile.

            “You’re not answering me,” Hamilton huffed. “I guess I’ll just have to find out for myself.”

            Before Burr could react, Hamilton had leaped from the couch and had his hands all over him.

            It had been quite some time since they last did this. Just after the war ended, Hamilton and his rag tag team of misfits would attempt to “cheer up” Burr whenever they saw him. Most of the time, Burr hadn’t been upset. However, he wore a natural frown when he walked, which was enough to incite violence, specifically from Hamilton and Laurens. This activity had slowed to a stop once the band broke up. Lafayette went back to France, Mulligan had gone back into tailoring, and Laurens had unfortunately been killed just before the war was officially ended. The latter had hurt Hamilton the most, thus ended most of his playful interactions with anyone outside his household.

            Burr didn’t hold back his laughter at all. He didn’t feel the need. It had been years, and frankly, Burr didn’t mind this. It felt normal. Nostalgic.

            “Ah, there it is,” Hamilton beamed, listening to Burr’s rich belly laugh that he would only do when his ribs were being attacked. This was Hamilton’s go to spot when on the attack, getting the best results the quickest. It may not have been Burr’s worst spot, but it yielded in the best response.

            “You know, I’ve missed this,” Hamilton mused, both teasing and being sincere. “And, since you’re not fighting back, it seems you have too.”

            Burr didn’t protest; he really was having a good time. This had been one of the worst years of his life and he’s been in a shit mood for some time, on top of anxiety around his encounter with Hamilton a month ago. The fingers skittering across his rib cage felt like a temporary release from the monsters in his mind. This he could handle with ease. That is, until Hamilton decided to go for the kill.

            “Alex!” Burr nearly screeched, dropping all formalities as Hamilton began lightly squeezing his lower stomach, the small patch of fat being extra sensitive. Burr knew Hamilton was going to finish his attack soon. Hamilton knew that Burr couldn’t handle this spot being teased for too long.

            “I don’t think you’ve called me that since the eighties,” Hamilton wore a sly smile, giggling to himself. Hamilton was the sort of person to laugh along with the person he was tickling, especially if their laughter was as contagious as Burr’s. It wasn’t his fault that Burr’s laugh was loud and giggly, a stark contrast to his typical stoic persona.

            “Stop, please,” Burr finally let out, holding out for a good five minutes. It was fun, in a way, but it had gotten to be too much.

            “Damn, you really let me have some fun there,” Hamilton teased, now standing in front of Burr, hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes. Burr took a minute to respond, having to release the final residual huffs of mirth and uncurl himself into a proper sitting position.

            “I guess I did,” Burr replied, smile still wide on his face. “Now, I think it would be fair if you repaid the favor.”

            “Oh, I-I,” Hamilton stammered, his face reddening. Burr knew this was a go ahead.

            Standing up, Burr practically lifted Hamilton and walked him across the room to the couch. Gently plopping him down onto the sofa, Burr straddled the younger man and began to dance his fingers across the entirety of Hamilton’s torso.

            “Burr!” Hamilton squealed in delight, grabbing Burr’s wrists, but didn’t try to push them away.

            Burr knew that Hamilton loved this, always had. He had always suspected that Hamilton liked the attention, the touch. His childhood had been rough, so Burr assumed that this quirk had stemmed from this. He, of course, had never wanted to press. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this somewhat charming quirk, so he never questioned.

            “Still as ticklish as ever, huh?” Burr let out a low chuckle as he fluttered his fingers on either side of Hamilton’s neck. Burr knew he wouldn’t respond, Hamilton’s neck being a weak point that always sent him into hysterical giggles. “Hm, you’re lucky I’ve never done this in front of the other senators. I’m sure they would have a kick out of this.”

            “Asshole,” Hamilton replied, now able to speak as Burr’s fingers danced along his lower ribs. His ability to speak would soon be ripped away from him, as Burr’s response to his crude remark was to crawl his fingers downward along his sides, to knead into his hips.

            “Burr!” Hamilton’s voice was as loud as it could possibly be, his laughter booming as Burr attacked his most sensitive spot. This specific laugh always made Burr join in, as the laugh itself was adorably funny to listen to, along with it being very apparent that Hamilton was having a delightful time.

            As Burr went to town on Hamilton’s hips, Theodosia quietly laughed to herself, peering out from behind her door, with only a partly obstructed view of the living room. She had been lingering there for a while, having heard her father’s deep laugh, and had to investigate. It had been years since she had heard him really laugh, long before her mother died. Burr looked much younger, relaxed.

            “Thank you,” Theodosia whispered under her breath, letting out a sigh as she smiled to herself.

#tickle fic #squealing santa 2k23 #hamilton #TIcklish!hamilton #ticklish!burr #ss2k23 #Author: a-fluffer-nutter

[squealing-santa]

Hi! 🥭 @italeean . Sorry for the long, very long, very very long wait. Mango anon will have a reputation for no being on time. It took me longer than it should have. Still I hope it will be to your liking.

Today combo 2 x 1

Akutagawa x Atsushi "Wake-up tickles" -Akutagawa, executive of the Port mafia, serius and intimidating, he had the oversight of falling asleep on the couch instead of being in bed next to his boyfriend. Atsushi didn't agree with that. Enough reason to wake Akutagawa up with tickle.

Bonus:

Reader x Childe "Lee has been getting terribly serious and depressed the last few days and Ler can't allow it."

#Squealing Santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #tickle art #Lee!Akutagawa #Ler!Atsushi #SSKK #Akutagawa x Atsushi #Shinsoukoku #Ticklish!Akutagawa #ReaderxChilde #Tickle Childe #Lee!Childe #Tartaglia #Bungou Stray Dogs #Genshin Impact #tickle fluff #Tickle #Author: mango!anon

[squealing-santa]

Surprise, surprise!

Heya, @anzynai! Sounds like @squealing-santa has a gift for you ;) I really hope you like it, since I had a great time making it!

Image ID: A digital illustration depicting Shuichi and Kokichi from Danganronpa. The art has three tiny illustrations showing times where Kokichi tickled Shuichi. In the middle, there's a golden text saying "REVENGE TIME". Below it, there's a bigger illustration of Shuichi tickling Kokichi.

#tickle art #lee!kokichi #ler!shuichi #SS2k23 #squealing santa 2k23 #Artist: ijustliketickling

[squealing-santa]

Happy holidays everybody! I’m very sorry for the late post: my personal life has very much gotten in the way of this project and I’ve neglected to check my Tumblr much. Nonetheless, I was assigned to make a gift for @cringemesstickles! Thank you so much for your patience, and I hope that you like your gift :D

Character A is in a bad mood, and Character B tickles them to cheer them up.

I’ve never drawn this duo before, so I hope I did their faces justice! I did my best to use references haha. Happy holidays!

#ss2k23 #lee!dally #ler!darry #tickle art #Squealing Santa 2k23 #Artist: woollymutt

[squealing-santa]

Blueberry haired and Raspberry haired

A/N: AHHH THIS IS SO LATE, BUT HEY @stopiteatpopcorn , I WAS YOUR SQUEALING SANTA. I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait! I didn’t wanna force myself to write this because as someone who’s your friend, and as I do with all squealing Santa events, I PUT MY ALL INTO IT. And we know when we force ourselves to write, it’s just, BLAH. But hopefully you like it! I also kept texting you to subtly get ideas or know if I could write something so HAHA👹 I wanna thank a new friend of mine (who ironically isn’t in the tickle community) for giving me the idea of how to even START THIS FIC. So thank them👺🫵 I ALSO WANNA THANK OUR HOST FOR SQUEALING SANTA THIS YEAR. Always amazing to work with the host, and our host this year was lovely and understanding, so thank you! And without further rambling, this was fun to write and I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Shanks and Buggy cross paths, and the flashy clown has to figure out how to avoid a fight with Shanks without spilling everything. Meanwhile, Shanks isn’t too concerned and helps his friend lighten up… with some teasing of course.

Extra note: I didn’t proof read so there maybe spelling errors 🤡

Warnings: Tickles, foot tickles, I don’t remember if there’s swearing, I don’t think there’s anything else.

See. This was unexpected. In fact, if you told Buggy this was a day he’d meet Shanks once again. Not even close to the top of his guesses. Yet, here he was, making eye contact with Shanks…

And he was horrified. His crew was cheering and ready to loyally watch their captain take on a rival, one of the strongest pirates of the sea, the famous red haired Shanks! This was beyond exciting, they could barely contain their joy as they stood behind their Captain.

As for This Captain… The blue haired Captain was trembling in pure shock, not only did he know of Shank’s power… but Shanks had the power to piss him off like no other. It was like it’s own devil fruit.

So here Buggy was, trembling in some sort of mixed emotion as the red haired pirate smiled in a laid back manner, as if aware of his feelings and chose to observe.

“Dammit! Make the first move!”

“Haha! Clowns first, you know that rule!” Shanks called with his confident yet relaxed tone, not worried in the slightest as he teased. However, this comment happened to make an emotion in Buggy take dominance…

Anger.

“NOSE?! I NOSE THAT RULE—?! Why You Little—!”

And the chop chop fruit went to work as Buggy split in two pieces, namely his torso ‘chopped’ off from his waist, and he and his torso went straight up to Shanks, flying up to him.

“YOU BETTER NOT SAY ANOTHER WORD OF MY NOSE—!” Buggy squawked, Shanks letting a soft laugh out as he flashed a smile. “Ah, you never change, Buggy.” The pirate with a higher bounty spoke with those hazed eyes, causing more complaints from the blue haired pirate.

“WHAT?! I’ve changed lots, mind you! You just don’t know it yet, you haven’t seen anything yet!” His hands detached as he gripped Shanks by his shirt, poking his chest as well as the fellow pirate smirked softly, amused by how easily provoked Buggy happened to be.

Meanwhile, Buggy’s crew was in awe. “Captain is handling Red Haired like he’s not afraid of a thing he could do… our Captain is unbeatable!” They cheered out, snapping the squawking and squabbling pirate out of his focus to glance back at the crew he led.

“…Hmph.” Buggy huffed, calming down… as much as Buggy could.

“You have quite a crew, a supportive one at that.” Shanks spoke with a calming tone, sounding… happy for Buggy. The clown seemed shocked, becoming choked up as his crew members continued to cheer…

“Hah! Of course! We’re the best crew around!” The Chop Chop Man exclaimed cockily. “Haha! Of course you are.” Shanks commented. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean! That sounded sarcastic!” Buggy scolded before crossing his arms despite his hands still gripping Shanks’ shirt.

But within a couple moments, Buggy and Shanks went into private, just a simple little room as their crews stood back and let them ‘sort things out’ and whatnot. In actuality, they were just going to chat so Buggy could avoid the fight and not get bested in combat so miserably.

So here they were… And this was… horribly awkward. Especially now that Buggy stopped whining.

“…Well aren’t you going to say something?!”

Nevermind.

“We have time, don’t we? Tell me, what’s the recent?” Shanks spoke calmly, his charming smile always remaining on his face. Although, this question managed to make the clown defensive.

“Lots of things! Of course we’re planning on storming the grand line, finding all the treasure in the world, and taking out every pirate we cross!” Buggy protests, refusing to show any small bumps in this little plan of his. “Oh?” The redhead spoke before adding onto his sentence.

“So what about me then?” “Eh?” The blueberry— I mean blue haired man seemed flustered. “You said you’d destroy any pirates in your way… right?” “W-Well, yes—!” Buggy spoke with little confidence, trying to avoid what Shanks was implying.

“So, why not go up against me?”

Oh come on! He made this impossible to avoid! What excuse would even make sense other than ‘I’m a wussy!’

“Because… I have my reasons and I don’t need to explain them!”

That caused a moment of silence, his fumbled sentence made his reasons a mystery, and that seemed to surprise Shanks since usually Buggy couldn’t keep a thing from him.

“…Oh? Well… in that case, Buggy.” Shanks began before grinning.

“Let’s play a game.”

The Genius Jester seemed to be caught off guard once more, but listened intently.

“I’ll try and get you to confess your reasonings, and you resist.” And that seemed easy enough, thank goodness! Hah! This will obviously be easy! So, Buggy pridefully crossed his arms and stuck up his nose— erm, stuck up his chin, as if radiating his ego with his body language.

“Hah! Do your worst!” The Clown spoke as the lacking strawhat Captain seemed glad he had fallen into his little game. His little trap.

Shanks slowly stood from his seat, and slowly approached Buggy… and walked behind Buggy.

Was this an intimidation tactic? Buggy couldn’t tell! But it was horrifying! Horrific even! “Hey—! Watch it—!” Buggy attempted to speak before suddenly letting a shriek out, feeling a little bit of a tickle… or rather multiple tickles around his neck as he quickly tried to flip around.

And as expected, he was met with that smile… but with a mischievous hint to it.

“Still got weaknesses from our days as rookies?”

No.

“Don’t—!” Buggy fumbled. “Why not? It clearly still works.”

Don’t.

“T-That doesn’t mean it’s fair!” The clown exclaimed before a small chuckle left Shanks. “Well, consider it payback since you never played fair.”

And despite that, Buggy couldn’t think of another word before his own laughter bubbled out of his throat from tickling around his belly, causing loud but the famously silly laughs from Buggy. They were more authentic and less dramatized!

Only authentic for the ‘fan’ who’s been there since the start.

“Do you give in?” “N-NEHEVER! Nohot a chance—!”

And suddenly, Shanks raised him up from the chair and pushed him with his arm onto the bed, causing Buggy to fall right over. And within a moment, Shanks was sitting on his waist, spidering and scribbling his fingers on the clown’s belly, causing everything but him staying quiet, nor still as he snorted, his limbs flailing yet never reaching where he needed them to.

“S-SHAHAAAANKS!”

“Oho. That was like a battle cry. What’s up?” “PFF— QUHUIT IT! I-I demahand you s-stohop it!” “Oh? Hmm… no can do. I haven’t heard anything but laughing from you, and I definitely didn’t hear any reasons.”

Oh come on! Buggy would’ve sulked if he wasn’t smiling bigger and brighter than a star, but out of the blue… he felt something. He finally didn’t feel tickling all over his belly, but he also felt Shanks.. oh no. Nonono. Not this. Not again. What’s with happy people who wear strawhats or have worn strawhats and this—?!

“Wait—! Waitwaitwait—! Shanks—! Don’t you dare—!” Buggy protests, trying to grab at Shanks before Shanks flipped himself around, now facing his lower half and slipped his shoe off.

“Alright! I’ll count down. 3…”

“SHANKS—!”

“2…”

“Don’t—! Don’tyoueven—!”

“1!”

And due to Shanks knowing how to work around lacking an arm, he sat on his leg, good for Shanks! But awful for Buggy who couldn’t move his foot.

And the moment he felt the gentle touch of Shank’s fingers skittering around, he admittedly was laughing like a hyena, not that it’s inherently out of character for him, but not something you’d hear everyday. Admittedly, as loud as Buggy was, after he’d squeal, he’d start laughing more… softly? It still had the raspiness in his voice, but it was much softer after he got used to the feeling.

“Kitchee koo?”

“sHUT UP—!”

It brought that smile Shanks had to a grin, he enjoyed seeing his old friend laugh…

But on the other hand, Buggy didn’t ever have this much endurance when he was younger… did he get less ticklish when he grew up? Possibly… but not quite… more endurance maybe?

Nonetheless, Shanks was stumped. It seems more like his friend was enjoying it, which was good, but he wasn’t willing to fess up. As rewarding as the happy laughter was, Shanks still had to tease him. That’s what left Buggy on his feet.

Oh ironic. Shanks chuckled before stopping, letting his friend take breaths and relax as the redhead hummed, thinking this over… What else could he do? He needed another little push…

“Oh! Buggy!”

“Oh what now?! Was that not enough?!” Buggy whined frustratedly, although it was clear he didn’t truly care that much. He was always dramatic about situations, especially to keep up his pride, and that added to his charm… erm well. ‘Charm.’

“Haha! I just had an idea is all. It may get you talking?” And the clown pouted. “Oh you’re joking!” He huffed out, moody despite the playful situation. It wasn’t that it was that bad, but his pride surely didn’t like it.

Although… The childish action sparked memories! Happy memories… and it was heartwarming for Buggy to think back on them…

BUT! If that stupid pirate who lost his strawhat thinks he can make him all soft and happy, he has another thing coming!

“Pff. I promise I’ll stop if this doesn’t work, alright?” Oh. Well… fine. Buggy nodded approvingly with his chin up high in pride, whether or not he wanted the memories to stop, this red haired whatever his face is isn’t gonna win!

With that, the man with the scars around his eye smiled casually… and lifted his shirt up. “…What.” Buggy mumbled in confusion. What could he possibly—

And suddenly Buggy’s thoughts were interrupted by… a loud high pitched squeal. One a coward would have. And it was followed by hearty laughter.

Granted, Buggy was a squealer, but Shanks’ laughter afterwards was his signature, beyond recognizable.

“Oh that’s great! Gold even! Let me do that again!” And Shanks leaned down to his belly, and blew a raspberry straight onto his tummy, causing not only the funny noise to ring out, but another squealy shrieky laugh from Buggy as he threw his head back in laughter, his hair flopping around as he wiggled.

“DAHAHAMMIT—! H-Hahave mercy—! Nonono noT AGAHAHAIN—!”

Buggy kept getting attacked by raspberries, not only causing a ticklish sensation, but the sounds and noises making him laugh, especially when Shanks would laugh half way through the raspberry.

And if this wasn’t a spinning image of when they were children, then nothing was. It was ironic to see this play out.

“Okay!! OKAY—! I’ll tell you—! Just quHUHUIT—!” And one final big raspberry on the belly, and Shanks lifted himself up, laughing softly and yet with his whole heart.

And admittedly, they were just sitting there laughing and giggling for about 30 seconds before Buggy forced himself back to reality and stood to his feet. “N-Now this isn’t over! Just because I gave in doesn’t mean— wait where’s my…” Buggy quickly checked for his shoe before Shanks tossed it over.

And then Buggy went right back to speaking, pulling his boot on. “— It doesn’t mean that I am weaker than you! I just… pitied your attempts and thought it was such a waste of time.”

“Right.” Shanks smirked, a cheeky smirk of course as he leaned back. “Is this a good time to confess I actually just wanted to play around and didn’t care?”

Silence…

“OH YOU LITTLE—!” Buggy stormed over, causing Shanks to laugh once more as usual…

“LETS SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT THEN—!”

And with that, it was safe to say their crews didn’t see them for a little while… but it was worth it for them to relive some memories and have some fun… and of course, take one another down a notch…

Or namely, a clown was taken down a notch or two, as for the redhaired pirate… we can only guess, hm?

#one piece #one piece tickles #op tickles #op #lee!buggy #ler!shanks #ticklish!buggy #implied #lee!shanks #and #ler!buggy #fluff #tickle fluff #sfw #sfw tickles #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #Author: Switch-Writer

[squealing-santa]

Tailored to Who?

Artist: star!anon Author: @hexalianrebel-blackfeathers

Panda’s Notes: Happy Very After Crimmas! Panda is Pinch Hitting a gift this year for @pixliidraws! Sorry for the wait, but I hope you like this! 

Word Count: 563

****

The idea is simple.

Part of becoming second-years is reevaluating the choices you made in your first year. And one of those choices is your hero costume.

“You never told me you could draw like this.” Jirou said excitedly, trying to peek at other pages in Yaoyorozu’s sketchbook. Apparently, she had quite the knack for drawing clothes,

She smiled softly at the compliment, tapping her eraser on the page. “Thanks, my dad’s side of the family is full of fashion and costume designers. They’re…not entirely fans of my costume.”

Jirou bit her lip, leaning on her girlfriend’s shoulder. “Because they don’t like the design or because, uh…”

“Because, uh, they don’t like it on me, yes.” She chuckled. “I mean, I’m almost eighteen; I’m not ashamed of my body or anything; and it’s practical for my Quirk, right?” Yaoyorozu glanced at Jirou, a knowing grin spreading on her face at the way Jirou avoided eye contact.

“Yeah… I-I admit your costume wouldn’t be my first choice either.” She murmured shyly.

“Fiiine~” Yaoyorozu faked a pout, sticking her tongue out slightly. “I asked Midnight about what her costume is made out of, but even then, I wouldn’t be able to repair it if it were torn.”

“As if your Quirk hasn’t torn through your costume plenty of times?”

“That’s exactly my point, though! Even this is hard enough to keep track of.”

“Don’t you just remake your costume yourself though?”

“What? While ten thugs are trying to cave my head in with pipes?”

“Are you just trying to make excuses—”

“No, I am not making excuses to run around naked, Mother.” She moved to tap the pencil against Jirou’s face, heaving a sigh as she stretched. “It’s my hero costume; it’s not meant for comfort, it’s practical.”

“Practicality can mean a lot of things though, right?” Jirou rested her head on top of Yaoyorozu’s, walking her fingers slowly along her sides. “For example: I think this is impractical.” Her hands zipped upward, spidering quickly under her arms.

Yaoyorozu squeaked, yanking her arms back down and giggling as Jirou persisted. “Hey, w-wait a second!”

“Pretty sure leaving a huge weak spot exposed is going to bite you in the long run.” Jirou sighed, shaking her head as if she was disappointed. “And I think the material is already thin enough too, don’t you?” She pulled her left hand free, squeezing and scribbling back down Yaoyorozu’s side.

The taller girl keened, laughing and trying to grab at her wrist with one hand while the other searched for Jirou’s neck. “Kyouka, that is not funny!”

Jirou easily leaned back as scribbling nails tried to get under her chin, laughing a bit herself. “It’s a little funny. You know tearaway clothes are a thing, right? Seams that just come apart with Velcro. Maybe magnets would be better for you. Faster.”

She goosed Yaoyorozu’s ribs, backing up quickly with giggles on her voice as her girlfriend stood from the chair. She made a show of stalking toward her, grabbing her by the wrist and spinning her around so she could rest her chin on Jirou’s shoulder. Jirou giggled squeakily as she blew gently along her neck.

“You know, that’s kind of a good idea.” She said, breathing purposefully heavier as she twirled one of Jirou’s earphone jacks on her finger. “You’ll help me with designs, right~?”

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #tickle fic #tickle art #my hero academia #momo yaoyorozu #kyouka jirou #tickling #Artist: star!anon #Author: hexalianrebel-blackfeather

[squealing-santa]

Roughing/Playful tickles between Hobie and Pavitr from ATSV!! Happy (late) holidays @flames-tstuff !!!

#tickle art #spiderverse #holly scribbles #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #artist: tickle-fight-club #spiderverse tickling #lee!pavitr #ler!hobie

[squealing-santa]

i'm dangerous cause i'm a fool for love

authors note: at last, at last, wrestling-anon is here with my gift for @august-anon -- and great minds think alike, because i was DELIGHTED to discover that we had submitted remarkably similar prompts in the best possible way. I'm Bloodweave trash, so I just had to go with the Astarion/Gale pairing you requested, but I hope I've worked in a couple of your other ideas too. title from Lord Huron, music absolutely made for BG3 at all times. also yes--that's obviously your Tav at camp with Wyll at the start <3

word count: 2739

fandom: Baldur's Gate 3, BG3

pairings: Wyll/Tav, Astarion/Gale, Bloodweave

content warning: discussion of past trauma

summary: Astarion knows he doesn't know half of what he's missed out on. Gale knows all too well.

* * * *

“Stop–STOP!”

Wyll’s voice rang loud and frantic through the camp, a tone they all recognized by now.

Gale glances up from the book he was poring over, Astarion sprawled over the seat behind him with his own book in hand. Gale calls out, a fond grin on his face,

“Oh dear. And whatever has our Blade of Frontiers done this time to deserve such torture?”

Wyll shrieks again, desperately grabbing for Tav’s hands as they snaked up his shirt again, tweaking the base of his ribs.

“Tav, PLEASE! I d-didn’t mean it!” he insists, his cheeks aching from the huge smile they’re forcing onto his face with each delicate touch. 

“Oh you didn’t? Then why did you say, and I quote, that you could take anything any of us dished out?” Tav asked, their own face bright with laughter at the sight of Wyll thrashing and pleading, nearly going to his knees.

“N-no more, no more!” Wyll gasps, the loudest noise still flying unbidden from his lips when Tav’s fingers find the weak spots near his navel.

Astarion moves closer to Gale, remarkably quiet for once as he watches the two lovers playfully tussling, a look of…longing? Confusion? on his pale face, fingers twitching at his sides as they do when he’s deep in thought.

The playful torture ends with Wyll finally capturing Tav’s wrists and planting kisses on their palms, and Tav fondly kissing the tears off his cheeks with a smile.. “There we are, a happy ending indeed,” Gale says, closing his book and placing it carefully back into his pack, glancing back at Astarion. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

Astarion starts slightly, letting out an airy chuckle. “Hardly, my darling. Why, our lovely Wyll is loud enough to drown out anyone, there was no point in me trying to talk.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Gale teases, leaning in to plant a kiss on Astarion’s curls. Astarion rolls his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not speaking of yourself, hmm? I’ve never known you to be quiet in any setting. And I do mean any setting,” he adds with a leer.

Gale recognizes that shift in tone, the way Astarion deflects off to flirting more outrageously when he’s feeling something he’s not yet prepared to delve into, something Gale has had to come to terms with over their slow, strange courtship. He knows the best way forward is to leave it, knowing Astarion will come to him when he’s ready to unravel another layer, heal another wound.

“I have been known to be rather verbose, yes, but last I checked you didn’t exactly object to the long odes of praise,” Gale retorts, and Astarion grins. “That’s my Gale.”

Astarion wanders off to his own bedroll, that look still in his eyes, as Wyll scoops Tav up and over his shoulder with a cry of “revenge!”, carrying them off to his tent as Tav playfully swats at his back.

* * * *

Astarion comes to him rather sooner than expected, in the end.

The moment dark falls over the camp, Gale casts the usual soundproofing spell lest any of their companions–noises in the night draw anyone or anything closer than they’d like, retiring to his tent with a bottle of wine, a second glass already poured in case Astarion decides it’s one of the nights he’d like to spend tangled in Gale’s sheets rather than simply trancing on his own.

Gale hears the rustle of the tent flap pulling back as Astarion enters, giving him a fond smile and gesturing to the wine.

Astarion grins back, immediately seizing the glass and taking a sip, Gale’s eyes following the movement of his throat and the pleasured sigh he lets out as he swallows.

“My my, it’s like you knew I was coming.”

“I rather hoped you would. The bedroll feels rather empty when you don’t, hard though that may be to believe.”

Astarion preens, but his eyes are soft. “You flirt. You know you don’t have to work to get me in bed any more, hmm?”

“Nevertheless,” Gale says, “I never tire of complimenting you. And you never seem to tire of the compliments. We are…complementary, that way.” He looks especially proud of his little joke, Astarion groaning in reply even as he covers his mouth to hide a laugh.

“You are impossible. Absolutely impossible.” Astarion takes another drink, then quiets, staring into the liquid as though he’s trying to conjure something there.

Gale hesitates a moment before he moves closer, stroking a hand through Astarion’s hair, still not pushing him to respond, though every bit of Gale is sending out all of the “you can talk to me, I love you, you’re safe” signals he possibly can without words.

Astarion leans into the touch, his eyes drifting closed, a soft, pleased noise in his throat as Gale’s fingers lightly scratch at his scalp. Without looking up, he says, almost to the glass, “I… it’s hard, still. Even after…even after killing him. To feel as though I learn every day some new thing that he took from me without me even knowing I missed it.”

Gale feels the same dull ache in his heart–and his scar–that he does every time Astarion talks of his life before, of not just the obvious cruelties inflicted upon his scarred back, but the small, insignificant ones.

“I…all of us, but especially I…we’re here to help you find those things again, my love. If you want to find them. To learn together. I…hardly know sometimes who I might be without what my goddess made me…”

Astarion looks up at him, eyes slightly shiny with unshed tears. “Oh, my love. What a pair we two make,” he says, running his fingers along Gale’s jaw, toward his neck, Gale snorting out a small laugh involuntarily. “You know I’m ticklish…”

“That…reminds me,” Astarion says, looking back into the glass again as though it might perhaps be encouraging him. “I…look, I don’t even know how to…well, what I mean is…”

“Shall I tickle you, then?” Gale asks, and Astarion nearly chokes on the sip he’s about to take. “I…noticed how you were gazing at Wyll and Tav earlier. It was rather hard to miss, I’m afraid, though I suspect those two were rather preoccupied.”

“I don’t…I can’t remember. If I was ever ticklish, if anyone ever tried. Before. Certainly not since. I rather doubt that I am, honestly.  But…”

“We can start quite gently,” Gale promises, “I can tell you what I’m going to do, how I plan to touch. So I don’t startle you.”

Astarion sets the glass down with a nod, still not quite able to look up. “Yes. That…I think that might help.” He laughs again, a bit embarrassed. “All of the debauchery I’ve explored with so many and here I am blanching at the idea of asking for something so silly.”

Gale tilts his chin up, pressing a soft, warm kiss to his mouth, feeling Astarion not simply yield to it but answer it back hungrily, his fingers wrapping around the back of Gale’s neck as he sighs into his mouth, the kiss not something to be endured but something Astarion wants, and Gale can’t help but smile against his lips.

“Something funny, wizard?” Astarion breathes, his fingers shifting from a wrap to a tickle, making Gale scrunch up with a rather sweet giggle.

“N-no! Nothing funNY, I swear!” Gale insists, unable to still the giggles as Astarion’s fingers caress the sides of his neck, moving to tease under his chin.

“Perhaps I should simply tickle you instead, hmm?” Astarion purrs, but the purr turns to a yelp when Gale slips his fingers under the loose hem of Astarion’s shirt, just barely grazing his waistline.

Gale smiles in earnest now. “Sorry. Didn’t warn you properly. But…I’m already getting the sense that you might have been wrong about that whole not-being-ticklish bit.”

Astarion smirks back at him. “What was it Wyll apparently said earlier? I can take anything you dish out? I’m quite certain I can, you just caught me off guard.”

Gale taps the tip of his nose with a grin. “Lie down, hmmm? On your back to start, if it’s comfortable. And simply say…hmm…light, I suppose? If it’s too much to bear, I don’t actually want to torment you.”

Astarion obeys, biting back the temptation to make a lewd comment about Gale wanting him on his back, and raises his arms up, crossing them behind his head to pillow it in his hands.

“I think I’ll start with your stomach, then…” Gale muses, and Astarion feels a rather pleasant stirring in his chest at the idea of Gale narrating such a thing, the intention of comfort and warning nonetheless reminding him that when Gale puts his mind to it, he can tease Astarion to new heights of frenzy. Before he can remark on it, however, Gale’s soft fingers draw circles along his waistline and up toward his navel, and Astarion’s whole body jolts.

“What the HELL–?”

Gale can’t hide the look of glee on his face. “Oh, dear, dear me. I’ve only just started and you’re about to squirm out of your skin?”

“F-far from it, I just…didn’t expect…oh, GODS!”

Gale draws light, relentless paths, every touch shooting straight through Astarion’s nerves, like so much sparkling light, Astarion would swear Gale was casting some sort of spell as he laughs harder than any of the times he’s teased the others with Tasha’s Hideous Laughter.

And Gale simply will not.

Stop.

Talking.

“My, my, such a sensitive stomach, hmm? I suppose it makes sense to try your ribs next…lucky for you they’re not as exposed as they were when we first found you, eh?”

Gale strokes along the bones of his ribs, wiggling nails into the grooves between them, and Astarion’s laughter softens slightly but doesn’t fade completely.

“Ah, I see, not quite so ticklish there, are you? I’m a bit deadly around the ribs myself, if you haven’t noticed, quite a liability if someone thought they might want to sneak up and put a knife into them, eh? It’d catch them quite off guard for me to laugh, I expect–keep those arms up, would you, love?”

Gale’s fingers find their way to the soft tufts of hair in his armpits and Astarion practically howls, though he manages–barely–to keep his arms behind his head, tears springing to his eyes, but nothing resembling “light” rising from his mouth.

“Oh, this might be the best spot yet, hmm? You’re not simply ticklish, you’re terribly so, you may even rival me…or Wyll, for that matter!” Gale beams, and the fact that he isn’t intending to tease only makes the effect worse–well, or better, but Astarion thinks it might take more than a little tickle to get that confession from him.

“Hold on. Bit of an unusual spot, but…” Gale slides his fingers up Astarion’s sleeves to flutter softly over his biceps, and Astarion’s laughter goes from howls to the sweetest, most bubbly giggles Gale has ever heard, his eyes squeezing shut as he says “Y-you are vicious at this, Gale Dekarios!”

“Vicious? Me? I’m wounded, you know! After all, you were the one who asked for this…though I suppose you couldn’t have known you’d be quite this dreadfully ticklish…I may take a bit of convincing to stop, hearing you laugh like this!”

Gale immediately contradicts himself by pausing the attack, watching Astarion closely. “Still with me, love? I’d like to try your legs a bit, though I’m not sure if I dare to try your feet…”

Astarion clears his throat, adjusting his shirt as Gale withdraws his hands. “Do your worst, darling. Though don’t think I won’t enjoy every moment of my revenge…I don’t think I’ve explored your particular weakness to this nearly enough, now that I think on it.”

“Then I suppose I may as well earn it,” Gale teases back, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his forehead before sliding down to perch between Astarion’s thighs. “I normally might do this facing away from you, but I don’t…well. I want you to be able to see what I’m about to do, at least this first time.”

“You…you sweetheart,” Astarion says, voice fond but slightly shaky, a part of him still never sure that he deserves to have what he wants, what will bring him comfort, and Gale leans up to kiss him again, fingers cupping his chin as he murmurs, “I love you…”

“I love you too, even though you’re about to try tormenting me again…perhaps you’ve already found everywhere, however,” Astarion says, his eyes rather suggesting he hopes that isn’t the case. Gale grins as he rearranges himself between Astarion’s bent thighs, resting his fingers on his hips, making him twitch.

“Let us see,” Gale muses, returning to his narration as he lightly tickles, then squeezes at Astarion’s hips. Astarion jolts again, a few short laughs slipping out, but he shakes his head, looking almost disappointed. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

“Next time I have you undressed I may have to try one of my quills,” Gale says, half to himself, and Astarion’s eyes widen at the image before he lets out a loud, shrill squeal of laughter when Gale’s fingers start scribbling over the backs of his thighs, his back arching off the bedroll.

“GODS, that, that–” Astarion half-yelps, half squeals, barely managing not to slam his thighs down to protect the spot, and Gale all but lights up.

“Ohh, ticklish thighs, is that it? That’s a rather dangerous secret, you know…your thighs are so tempting to me already, but knowing I can hear your lovely laugh if I simply tickle you? You may have unleashed a monster,” Gale teases, fingers flying up and down, darting occasionally to his inner thighs which only makes him laugh louder.

“I’ll! I’ll get yours twice as MUCH–” Astarion tries to sound threatening, but the way his voice trembles with laughter slightly undoes the effect, the laughter spiking to a shriek when Gale teases behind his knees. “NOT that!”

“Not that? Not what, your knees? But that doesn’t sound like light, not at all! In fact, I’m starting to suspect you’re enjoying this a bit more than you’re letting on, love–you’re not fighting me a bit, are you? Haven’t tried once to put your legs down, or even grab my hands…”

Astarion only shriek-laughs in response, his head falling back, his hands slipping from behind his head to cover his face.

“Oh, no. That won’t do at all–”

Before Astarion can react, Gale wriggles his fingers into an exposed armpit again, and this time Astarion does snap his arms down, the howling from earlier repeated louder somehow as he writhes.

“You, you ass, you brat!” Astarion yelps, the insults lacking a certain sting, laced with giggles as they are.

“So which is worse, would you say? Hmm? After all, as your partner, I should know these sorts of things…under your arms, or your knees? It’s certainly hard to tell!” 

Gale punctuates the question by wriggling the fingers of his trapped hand in Astarion’s armpit, his other hand slipping behind his knee again, and Astarion cries out “Light, damn you!” before dissolving into hysterics.

Gale stops immediately, the tickles turning to firm rubs, though even those draw small hiccups of laughter as Astarion starts to relax, his eyes bright as he opens them to look at Gale.

“That…well. You are truly a vicious thing when you want to be, aren’t you, treasure?” Astarion says, wiping the tears off his cheeks, giving Gale a little wink.

“And you’re far more ticklish than I ever expected. It’s absolutely delightful, you know. You sound…it’s lovely, when you laugh like that. When you just let go. Just…just lovely.”

Astarion pulls him down on top of him for a long, slightly giggly kiss, his hands skimming along Gale’s back as they stroke up and down, murmuring a soft “...thank you” against his lips before letting his eyes close, enjoying the warm weight of Gale on top of him.

“I plan to have my revenge, you know,” Astarion mumbles, yawning hugely.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. I’ll be ready. Besides, I’ve already got a few more spots on you I’ll be itching to try next time.”

Gale hides a smile when Astarion doesn’t retort anything about there not being a next time, only holds him tighter, face burrowing into Gale’s sensitive neck.

“That’s what I thought.”

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #submission #tickle fic #author: wrestling-anon #baldurs gate 3 tickling #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tickling #bg3 #Wyll/Tav #Astarion/Gale #Bloodweave

[squealing-santa]

“It's For Practice Reasons, Of Course!” Yor x Loid

Summary: Loid’s “day off” wasn’t supposed to be one, until it became truth. Unsure how to spend this time he decides to practice on a multiplayer game he bought Anya for Christmas. When Yor arrives home, she offers to help him practice, leading to a situation that can only be explained with this… “Yor is a cheater, for practicing purposes of course!”

A/N: Hii @ijustliketickling !! I had you for squealing santa, I hope you can forgive me for how late this is… but im sure you know how busy holidays can get! I really hope you enjoy this fic and it matches with your hopes for the prompts and pair. Merry belated Christmas, and a happy belated New Year! Also, special thanks to @hypahticklish for hosting this event. @squealing-santa

Information: Loid & Yor from Spy x Family. 2.3k words!

Loid sat on the couch restlessly, unable to sit still and occasionally taking a lap around their kitchen before returning to the comfy couch… going back to the same demeanour as before. He was at home by himself, Anya was at school and Yor was at work.

He told both of them he had “the day off” from his job, explaining why he would be staying home. In reality, he was told there was a job being done in the area where he lives, implying he should stay home and be on standby in case they need him.

Hence, his reason for lying to them that he had a day off. Now though half a day has passed since Yor & Anya left, with zero developments or anyone reaching out to Loid. He was pacing around waiting for a sign they needed his help. That was until he received a text from an unknown number, reading; Everything is finished, take the rest of your day to focus on your most important job.

He knew that meant everything to Anya and the fake family. He wasn’t sure whether or not to feel relieved, but at least he could stop waiting for something to happen. Instead, Loid has a new problem at hand… how is he supposed to spend this day alone, not doing anything? Relaxing has never been on his agenda. As well, there isn’t much to do with the current job at this moment.

He let out a small noise of frustration, looking around the room for something to give him a lightbulb thought. That's when he spotted the remote controllers he and Yor bought Anya for Christmas. It came along with a few games that could be inserted into their TV.

The game Anya loved the most out of the ones she got was a spy game based on her favourite TV show. It was a two-player and Loid has played it often with Anya, noticeably, he has not won a single game against her. Honestly, Loid was growing concerned she might grow bored of the game because she isn’t having a challenge (as ashamed Loid is to admit that)

So… knowing that he is alone, and has no responsibilities currently, maybe he could take this time to practice and improve on the game. As soon as that thought jumped into his head he turned on the TV and plugged in the controller. Clicking buttons and opening up the game, rushing to start.

• • •

Time passed, one hour, then two hours, then three. He felt himself improving as he dedicated more time, challenging the bots as the second player and slowly making them more difficult to beat. He checked the time, about 2 hours until he had to pick up his daughter. He still has time for more games.

His attention was grabbed from the game when he heard his front door lock being fumbled with. He didn’t panic, of course, instead, he quickly ran over to the kitchen and hid behind the cabinet door, leaving the game on. Prepared for anything, he was pleasantly surprised when he heard a familiar voice.

“Loid! I’m home early!” He heard Yor call along with the sound of her zipping off her coat. He grabbed a cup from the cabinet door he opened, playing it off as if he was just grabbing something to drink. Peaking around the corner he shot her a smile, which she happily returned.

He placed down the cup, grabbing a towel from the closet and making his way toward her as she took off her boots. He looked at her with caring eyes, “Yor, welcome home.” He smiled softly before continuing, “The snow must be heavy today, your hair is covered in it… may I?” She looked up at him, seeing how he was gesturing towards the towel he was holding, offering to dry her hair.

She blushed slightly, this is what married couples do surely… yet still, that didn’t make it any less sweet in a way it made her heart skip. “S-sure, go ahead.” She gave a similar look back, a bit more shyly than his smile of course. He softly began to dry her hair, taking great caution to not mess it up or make it frizzy.

The idea of how beautiful her hair was caused him to linger there for longer than expected, before catching himself and stepping away… clearing his throat somewhat sheepishly. She also gave off that demeanour, they both stood there awkwardly as Yor looked around the room desperately for a conversation started.

“Oh! You didn’t take down the Christmas or New Year's decorations, that surprised me.” Yor commented, Loid realizing how the people around him also can't imagine him not working.

“I figured me, you and Anya could take them down together, I think it would be nice.” He said, which was completely truthful. He figured on Anya’s first Christmas she would want to do everything that comes with it. He was about to talk more before he heard the sound of the video game “Game Over,” screen.

They both looked toward the sound, as Loid realized he never turned it off. “Haha… don’t mind that, Yor. I was practicing the game on my day off so I could play better against Anya.” He explained, which Yor completely understood.

She let out a small laugh though, remembering all the times he watched Loid lose against Anya. “Oh right, she's pretty good isn’t she?” Yor laughed again, Loid’s cheeks turned a light pink… likely because he knew she was snickering at him. He nodded in response, before Yor spoke again, “I have an idea! How about you play against me? It’ll test you more than playing against robots.”

Loid pondered, realizing Yor hasn’t actually had a chance to try the game out. She wasn’t wrong either and it was a good idea, “Sure, sounds good. After we’re done we can pick up Anya at the bus stop together, how's that?”

Yor nodded with a smile, excited to play the game as it brings back warm memories of her and her brother playing games. “Sounds great! I'll be player two!”

Yor and Loid made their way towards the TV, Yor plugging in the second remote now as Loid worked on going back to the menu screen and changing it to two players. When everything was ready, both of them were looking forward to playing together. Then the game started.

Loid instantly knew what to do, and Yor fell slightly behind. She was so excited to play the game she reassured Loid she would “figure it out as she played.” Which was totally a hindrance to her now. Despite this, she wasn’t doing terribly.

They played until the game was over, with the screen flashing ‘Player 1 Wins!’, Yor sighed when it was over. “You’ve gotten pretty good…” She said, happy for him but feeling a bit competitive.

Loid felt a wave of relief after hearing that, “Thank you Yor, don't feel bad though… this was only your first game after all. How about we play a few more?” He offered, noticing the hint of disappointment Yor was failing at hiding. She perked up, instantly starting her controller for a new game, a nice rematch.

The disappointment soon grew into impatience as she lost the second game, and then the third. Loid grew anxious as he saw her attitude get further more fiery and competitive with each loss. It made him strangely nervous, this was a side he never has seen of her. “Hey, how about we stop here? We have only an hour left to pick up Anya…”

Yor clicked the start button on her controller harshly, Loid wouldn’t have been surprised if she broke a hole in it. This must have been Yor’s silent way of saying “No way am I giving up beating you.”

He didn’t want to ‘poke the bear’ by insisting they stop, so he clicked to continue as well, going onto their fourth game. This time when the game started, they both rushed to play. Loid wasn’t going to go easy on her just to make her feel better, he knew if she realised he was throwing her a bone… Yor likely would have been more upset.

So they played, Yor watched as every little bar of her health dropped, her eyes filled with desperation as she clicked the buttons with aggression (as if that would do anything…) that was until she remembered something from when she and her brother would always play video games.

When he started to get ahead, she would always reach out and squeeze Yuri’s side to throw him off. Of course it was cheating… though neither of them minded. He would always laugh and jump away, giving her a small chance to pull ahead. She didn’t even weigh the pros and cons before she reached out for Loid’s side. It was almost an instinct for her.

He tensed up immediately as soon as her fingers even grazed his sides. When she latched on gently he felt his cheeks burn up in slight panic, before yelping out a small laugh. She smiled at his reaction, losing herself for a second, he also did. His controller turned slanted as one of his hands shot to push her tight grip away.

He shoved, realizing it was futile… she wasn’t moving an inch. Was Yor always this strong? Or did he simply never notice… that didn’t really matter as she began squeezing his side again. This time though, it was rapid, and it tickled like crazy. He was unable to hold back as a flurry of laughter escaped his lips, “Yohohor?!” Was his first idea of a response.

She wasn’t really thinking, she was just drowning in the happy feeling of success as his health bar began dropping closer to hers. He tried to bite his lip and stop his laughter, which she challenged by moving her fingers upright on his lower ribs, squeezing that spot now. “Yohohor…! Plehehease, it tihihickles…” He admitted with his cheeks blossoming into a beautiful crimson.

His words settled in, which somewhat brought her back to her senses. Her cheeks dusted pink, going along nicely with his crimson. Her mind wandered in an attempt to find an excuse for her actions, “W-Well, yes! I am making this more challenging for you! Who knows… when Anya and you play against each other again, she might pull tricks like this…!” It was too late to stop now, Yor thought.

Loid didn’t think of her words as anything but truthful… likely because that imaginary situation is very plausible. He was still giggling like a fool with a flustered expression… yet it didn’t stop him from fixing his grip on the controller. He began playing with one hand, just like she was. His health bar was now equal to Yor’s.

Despite being tickled, he began to pull forward even now in the game. Yor frowned before gazing at his torso… an unfair thought popped into her genius mind. When she is tickling his side and ribs, he can arch away and almost trick himself into thinking he's lessening the feeling. Though, if she were to target a spot he can't bend away from without losing view of the screen…

Yor didn’t even need to finish her thought before she made her decision, her hand shifting and beginning to tickle his unprotected stomach. “Wahahahait— nOHOHO!” Loid’s lips twisted into an adorable grin, his instincts telling him to protect himself from the unbearably ticklish feeling. She completely anticipated what would happen… well, without the very positive bonus of Loid completely falling into uncontrollable laughter—

She watched with fondness as he fell onto his back, curling on his side with his controller stubbornly in one hand, the other covering his stomach in hopes it would help. Yor managed to wriggle under his fingers with her own anyways. He held onto his controller, unable to even see the screen or push the buttons.

Yor watched as her health bar stayed the same and his dropped with every click. Most people wouldn’t take this as a win, especially since she definitely cheated; though Yor didn’t think that way at all. Celebrating with a cheer once his health hit zero. She removed her hand from his stomach and raised both in victory, before looking at Loid who was trying to catch his breath. She jumped up instantly to go get him some water from the kitchen.

When she got back, he was finally sitting back up. “I'm sorry, too far?” She apologized, hoping Loid wouldn’t be upset with her. She handed him the water and took a large sip of it as soon as he had it in his grasp. He sighed, already feeling better with the water.

“Nono, don't be sorry. It's okay! I think I might just need more practice with that, I really failed miserably.” He let out a small laugh, trying to make her feel better. While it did lighten the mood, it also lit her eyes with a fire similar to earlier. He instantly grew nervous.

She looked at him somewhat mischievously, “Well… we can always practise without the game…” Yor said with a smile and full intent on practising now. Loid began to squirm away, a small smile already threatening the corners of his lips. Before he could even protest, Yor was already squeezing his hips hoping for the same situation as before.

So, Loid fell back into his fit of laughter. He didn’t even bother pushing her hands away. They both got lost in the moment, almost like they actually were in love. Oh, and don’t worry. When it was 5 minutes before Anya was supposed to be picked up, they both noticed and panicked. Practically sprinting to her bus stop, of course, making it on time.

His day off wasn’t spent doing nothing, at least… the last three hours were eventful.

#lee!loid #ticklish!loid #ler!yor #tickle content #squealing santa 2k23 #spy x family tickling #SS2k23 #Author: thatonetickleblog

[squealing-santa]

Dragon Darts

A/N - Hey @gladdygirl18 sorry it's taken so long, but I'm your Squealing Santa! I may have made the wrong turn and missed your chimney, but I am finally here with your present! I tried to get this done before the new year, but I've been sick for three weeks and my car just got broken into, so I'm super sorry about the delay! I hope you like it and I want to thank @squealing-santa and @hypahticklish for all of this!

Word Count: 1,260

Playing hide-and-seek with a man who owns two ghost-types was a poor choice, Raihan realized quickly into their game. He didn’t really expect Leon to cheat – well, yes he did, but he had some sort of hope for a fair game – and his smile slipped off his face once he heard Dragapult’s cry from the other room.

Raihan’s turn had gone perfectly. He had no need to use his Pokémon, it was just a simple game of hide-and-seek.

He didn’t quite remember how this little game came about, something about Leon boasting to be the best at all games played by children or something like that, but in an instant, Raihan wanted to call his bluff and Leon was scurrying off to hide.

For a man who had the worst sense of direction, Leon was actually fairly capable at finding a hiding spot. It took Raihan a good ten minutes to find him. It mostly took this long as Raihan had absolutely no idea that Leon could wedge himself behind the washing machine and the wall, but by golly did he do it. Raihan must have passed him a good twenty times before spotting him. After that performance, Raihan knew he had to up his game to beat Leon’s time.

Leon using his Pokémon was definitely cheating though.

Raihan took pride in his height, standing at a good six and a half feet. What people didn’t know is that despite his tall frame, he was incredibly flexible thanks to his slight build, which made clambering over the fridge and into a small cabinet not too difficult. He knew Leon would never check here, but all bets were off once Dragapult entered the game.

“Dragon Darts,” Leon whispered, while pointing down the hall. “Find him for me, if you will.”

Dragapult let out a low cry as he shot two Dreepy from his head. The duo cheered in delight as they sped through Raihan’s house, phasing through the walls as they flew. Leon chuckled as they went off, Dragapult still at his side.

“Am I cheating?” Leon asked, looking up at Dragapult. The Pokemon nodded with a grumble, which made Leon smile. “Well, I guess. Oh, well.”

Raihan could hear the Dreepy coming closer. The duo had split up to cover more ground, and one of them was making a beeline to the kitchen.

Raihan’s hands shook as the Dreepy flew around, zooming back and forth in front of his hiding spot. As anticipation swelled through his veins, Raihan threw his hands over his mouth, fearing the noise he could potentially utter if spooked by any sort of sound. The Dreepy paused after a few minutes of pacing the small kitchen. It let out a groan, which gave Raihan some hope that the ghost-type would just fly on into the next room, but of course he couldn’t be that lucky.

“Hi,” Raihan mouthed as the Dreepy phased through the cabinet door with half of his body. Eyes widening, the Dreepy let out a scream, flashing a toothy grin at the man. Sighing, Raihan reached out a hand to pet the darling Pokémon, knowing that it wasn’t its fault that Leon was playing dirty.

“Found you Raihan,” Leon called and Raihan could just visualize his cocky smirk he had as he walked into the kitchen. “Raihan, where…oh in Arceus’ name,” Leon let out a chuckle as he looked up at the Dreepy, which had now spun around so only the wispy back half was visible to Raihan, “How, Raihan, how?”

“Arsehole,” Raihan simply remarked as he heard Leon trying to scramble up the side of the counter. The door swung open; Leon’s face brightened sweetly once he saw Raihan in his tight hiding place.

“Well, that’s not very kind,” Leon prodded Raihan’s side while wearing a fake pout.

Raihan recoiled into the side of the cabinet, slamming his shoulder with all his weight. His lips quirked into a frown when he looked back at Leon, whose shit eating grin took over half his face.

“I’ll bloody stab you, mate. Leon!” Raihan let out a yelp once Leon poked him again.

“This is gonna be so much fun,” Leon laughed as he brought both hands down on his best friend’s torso.

Raihan definitely did not shriek, no. He could never do that. Never.

Cackling laughter poured from his lips as Leon skittered his fingers along any sensitive parts that he could reach. Due to Raihan’s positioning, he had his knees bent up and his feet pressed against the other side of the cabinet. This allowed all access to the backs of his thighs, and Leon was going to have a field day.

“You arsehole!” Raihan screamed as one hand scratched the underside of his thigh and the other wormed its way under his arm. In no position to move, Raihan just sunk as far back as he could and laughed.

“You’re not fighting back,” Leon mused, shifting his weight slightly. He was sitting on his knees, and while his legs were starting to ache, Leon could not let this opportunity pass. “What’s wrong? Are you stuck or do you just like this?”

Dragapult and the two Dreepy let out small huffs of amusement as Raihan just cursed, wiggling as much as he could. One of the two Dreepy had a brilliant idea, so he smacked his brother with excitement. The other Dreepy grumbled, frowning from being distracted from the delightful show they were watching, though he brightened up once his brother revealed his plan. Flapping his arms, the Dreepy let out a wail, following his brother into the cabinet right next to the one Raihan was in. Both phasing through the side of the cabinet, they appeared beside Raihan’s head, one on each side, and began to nuzzle into the trainer’s neck.

“Okay! Stahahp!” Raihan exclaimed after a few more minutes, his deep belly laughs were becoming hoarse and weak.

“Fine by me,” Leon snickered, pulling his arms back and jumped off the counter. “My arms were about to fall off!”

“Oh, boo hoo,” Raihan growled, though he still had a wobbly smile.

The two Dreepy flew down to Leon and purred, rubbing their bodies against his shoulders. Dragapult just rolled his eyes, though he had thoroughly enjoyed watching the shenanigans. This scene wasn’t too uncommon. Leon was always sweeping Raihan off his feet and throwing him onto the couch or against a wall to tickle the hell out of him. It was the big brother energy that he was always exerting, though Raihan was six months Leon’s senior. Dragapult often had to drag the two apart, along with Leon’s other Pokémon. Of course, Raihan’s Pokémon were usually present, but they never tried to help him. Only Flygon really cared, wanting Raihan to be victorious in these little fights, but her favor was usually won over by Leon rather quick, as he always kept little mints in his pocket that she loved.

“You are the absolute worst,” Raihan glared, looking down at his best friend.

“But that’s why you love me,” Leon batted his lashes.

“You know I’m going to kill you, right?”

“Yep.”

“Wanna make this easy or hard?”

“Bye,” Leon replied as an answer, as he darted off, blowing a raspberry as he ran.

“Of course,” Raihan rolled his eyes, then glanced over at Dragapult. The two Dreepy had returned to their spots atop Dragapult’s head, where they looked eager for more action. “Can you by chance to me a favor?”

Dragapult nodded, grumbling in amusement.

“Alright. Dragapult, use Dragon Darts.”

#tickle fic #Author: a-fluffer-nutter #squealing santa 2k23 #SS2k23 #pokemon #raihan #champion leon

[squealing-santa]

Poetic Nonsense

A/N: My Squealing Santa fic for @vampiretickles (only slightly belated) – I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Based off of the prompt, "Admitting they like/want to be tickled" with Jon and Martin. Shoutout to @squealing-santa for facilitating one of the best events of the year <3

Summary: Martin gets sabotaged by a poem, a craving, and Jon's stupid mind reading powers.

Words: 1.3k

Martin was changing his mind: tickling could be used to torture him, even if not in the traditional way. Not torture by tickling, no – as long as it was with the right people without ill intention, he far it too fun and giddying for that – but torture by tickle withholding... as Jon was in the middle of discovering.

“You can literally read my mind!” Martin said indignantly, a hint of desperation seeping in.

“So?”

“So, I don’t get why I have to say it, when you know perfectly well I do!”

“‘Do’ what?” Jon’s usual academically curious tone didn’t hide his mischief in the slightest.

“Jon!”

They’d each just been reading — Jon, a complicated historical novel, and Martin, a book of poetry — next to each other in bed peacefully. Nothing had even happened to start the whole debacle. Except that Martin had gotten to a stanza set on describing a playful tickle between lovers. Feeling the unbearable sparkles of sensation, the lightning shocks of vulnerability (as the poem referred to it), being counteracted by the trust and affection for their partner and resolving in indignant delight. A joyous memory worth writing about, creating art in homage to.

And suddenly, his brain was crowded with the idea of that, the speaker in the poem, being him. Not with the speaker’s partner of course. With his partner. Jon.

Who was so close Martin could feel his warmth.

And, right on cue, Jon turned his head to look at Martin.

It was neither of their faults that, despite Jon not actively using his powers to look into Martin’s mind, a particularly strong thought about him could still make it through like an emergency alert on a silenced phone. The recognition and smothered eagerness in Jon’s eyes told Martin this was one such instance, and when Jon found a bookmark and set his book aside, Martin knew he was screwed.

But that had been two whole torturous minutes ago. Jon was still simultaneously playing oblivious and teasing with his Knowledge instead of just doing it already.

"Really, I can tell something's on your mind," Jon prodded again. "What is it?"

“You’re the worst,” Martin complained into his forearms, balled up with his knees to his chest. “The absolute worst. Just awful. I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” Maybe, he thought, if he kept blathering on, it would distract (both Jon and himself) from how damn flustered this was starting to make him. Maybe if he griped long enough, Jon would get tired of it and/or show some mercy and put him out of the pseudo-misery that was being made to wait just to wind up and embarrass him.

But Jon just raised an eyebrow at him and propped his chin on a fist, in it for the long haul. Fuck.

“I’m never going to make you tea again.”

“Why’s that?”

The all-knowing Jonathan Sims of a people playing dumb like this was infuriating. They both knew he knew. He was doing this purely to make Martin squirm and blush red-hot.

“Very true,” Jon said, a smug grin valiantly trying to overtake his passive expression.

Martin groaned. It was even meaner that Jon wasn’t even pretending not to have a front row seat for Martin’s every flustered thought (to which he was now actively listening), yet wouldn’t acknowledge the one that really mattered.

“I don’t deserve this,” Martin whined.

“Probably not. Still fun.”

Martin just groaned again and flopped uselessly against Jon’s side. Both for a bit of cover to hide his embarrassment (at least the visible signs of it) and to see if he could make Jon physically uncomfortable enough to do something about it.

“I’ve been through far too many genuinely torturous situations to be convinced of anything by you laying on top of me,” Jon said, smirk even more audible in his voice than before.

There was that word again, torturous. Martin was being tortured right now.

“If it’s so torturous, why are you having so much fun with it?”

“I am not.”

“I’ll drop it, if you really want.”

No, that was worse! The idea of all this teasing without any of the follow through was downright cruel.

“You’re making me feel like a bad partner, Jon laughed, not an ounce of genuine concern in his voice.

“Stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Responding to my thoughts without—” Martin could only end his sentence with a noise of wordless complaint. After all, if he could just say it, he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place.

Jon shifted to be facing Martin a bit more, and Martin couldn’t help but shrink back a little as a nervous-excited thrill rushed through him. Was the wait finally over?

“Without what, Martin?”

Apparently not.

“Without… listening to the important one,” Martin tried.

“You could just use your words.” Jon’s pleasant tone could only do so much to offset the mischievous glint in his eyes.

Scootching a bit a way from Jon, Martin grabbed a pillow to hug for… protection? comfort? It didn’t matter. Didn’t change what he was nervously hoping for.

“I don’t see why I should have to,” he groused, hoping it’d conceal his bashfulness (as if his body language wasn't already projecting it loud and clear).

“We’ve been over this. It’s fun.” When Jon leaned down to kiss Martin’s temple, Martin had to actively fight to not shrink away more. How was he this flustered over something so ridiculous? He wanted to crawl under the covers and never be seen again. Or better, be tickled until all thoughts of embarrassment left his head.

But that meant he had to ask for it.

Jon’s demeanor shifted. “I want to hear you say it out loud,” he said, gentler, “just one time?” It was like he was asking for permission. Like he’d cave even if Martin couldn’t do it, should this go on for much longer.

No, Martin was not going to be rendered useless by one silly request, especially one which he knew would be well received. He could do this.

Jon smiled encouragingly. “Yes, you can.”

Shut up!

Martin squeezed his eyes shut and gathered his willpower. “I’d… kind of like it if you… tickled me a bit, at some point,” he managed.

“‘A bit’? ‘At some point’?” Jon teased, knowing the truth.

Something in him finally snapped. “Fine, Jon, I’d like it if you tickled me. Happy?”

Fully grinning now, Jon snatched the pillow from Martin’s grasp (Martin hadn’t been holding it very tightly) and tossed it off the bed. He got on his knees, looming over. His fingers flexed and crooked into claws in preparation. “Very.”

–– Epilogue ––

“Did you know I can hear little lines of poetry forming in your head when I do that?" Jon said. "During the teasing, mostly, it usually all goes out the window the second I touch you.”

Martin couldn’t decide which half of that contributed to his blush more. Thankfully, it was hidden with the way he was flopped over half in Jon's lap, finally done giggling but still breathless after the (admittedly very fun) tickle attack he'd gone through so much grief to ask for. Yeah, okay, fine, his mind had a way of framing things that gave him big feelings in a poetic way. Especially ones that made him happy. And what about it?

Picking up on the hint of embarrassment, Jon smoothed over Martin's hair fondly and softened his tone. “It’s very nice. I like that you like it so much.”

“Shut upppp,” Martin grumbled into Jon’s thigh, not really wanting him to at all.

“I will when you stop thinking about it so much.” And a kiss was placed atop his head.

Martin did end up with several lines for a poem of his own by the time he fell asleep in Jon’s lap like that. Which would be perfect for Jon to tease him about more later.

#Author: achilleean #fic #tickle fic #jonmartin #tma #tma tickles #ss2k23 #Squealing Santa 2k23

[squealing-santa]

IVE FINISHED THE GIFTTT even though its a few days late- I was your secret santa!!! Merry late Christmas XD

First time writing for tadc, was definitely interning. Might have been a little rushed and short since I had some trouble writing at the start, but I hope you like it ^^ @colinthegaycomputer hopefully I dont have any typos LOL

Tysm to @hypahticklish for hosting this @squealing-santa! Was rly funn

-

Unusual Comfort

Fandom: The Amazing Digital Circus (TADC)

No Pairings

Summary: A little situation left Pomni alone and down in the dumps. Kinger wants to help.

Word count: 801

Masterpost

Breathe.

That's what Ragatha would have said if she wasn't busy.

Jax and Zooble had been fighting and Gangle had been caught in the crossfire. Obviously, that didn't end well, with them becoming bound together. Ragatha had left Pomni near the stage while she helped the others out of a tangled gangle. A Pomni who was hyperventilating, but claimed she was alright to be left alone. She didn't want to make things worse. Ragatha didn't want to ask Kinger either. Someone who forgets what they are doing every 5 seconds would probably not be of help with the Gangle situation.

So here Pomni was, worrying over how she accidentally caused this whole mess when Gangle tripped on her. And a worried Kinger on the side of his fort.

"Hey Pomni, need some help there...?" Kinger finally walked over after contemplating for awhile. He might be mentally unstable but he still cared. He wasn't a monster...yet. "You want to come over and lie down? Relax a little?"

"H-huh? Oh. Uh s-sure I guess" She tried her best to have coherent words. Kind of hard to speak when you practically feel like you can't breathe.

Kinger put a hand behind Pomni and guided her to his pillow fort. Perhaps a little comfort could bring comfort to the poor jester.

Kinger brought out some water from his stash of snacks and handed it to Pomni. Can't have a fort without food and drinks. "Here, drink some water. It'll help to control your breathing. Drink slowly when you feel like you're breathing too fast."

Gulping down some water at first, Pomni started taking smaller sips. Eventually, her breathing did go back to normal. "Thanks.." Pomni replied.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Kinger broke the ice. "Do you need anything? You seem kind of down. Well, more than usual."

"Huh? Uh, no its fine." Pomni snapped back into reality.

More uncomfortable minutes of silence prompted Kinger to remember a trick Ragatha used to do for members of the digital circus. He didn't know what would be Pomni's reaction to it but... Was worth a shot.

"Would you like me to try something? It's just a thing Ragatha used to do to cheer up others" Kinger enquired.

Pomni wasn't rly listening at this point and just gave a 'mhm' without thinking. She was pretty spaced out.

What she didn't expect was fingers curling at her sides.

"Ghk-?! H-hey, what ahare you do-dohoing?" Pomni blurted out before covering her mouth, squatting down to evade the sensations. As much as she squirmed or turned, it never stopped. The fingers just expertly moved wherever she went. It didn't give her time to get used to one feeling, skittering and spidering all over.

Kinger followed as Pomni sank down. After a few more squeezes, he opted to change tactics, scratching in the hollows of her underarms.

Occasional muffled giggles and shaky breaths slipped out from her. It was unbearable but somehow felt weirdly...good? It made her grounded, real. You can't really think of anything else besides the maddening feeling while being tickled. Still, instincts kicked in. She tried to grab one of his wrists using one hand while the other still covered her mouth.

Emphasis on tried. You can't exactly hold on to a wrist that's not there, can you?

Kinger couldn't lie, it was actually kind of fun to see their friend laughing. She'd always been so on edge, it was nice to see her letting lose. He liked to see his friends being content.

As Kinger moved to lightly dusting her neck, Pomni squealed. Both her hands darting to her neck to try and protect it. Her shoulder and nose scrunching up as she twisted and leaned forward. Panicked squeaks poured out of her, now that she wasn't covering her mouth.

"You should let loose more often like this Pomni, it suits you." Kinger commented, as if he wasn't 'torturing' her right now. "It's good seeing you actually enjoy yourself."

Though that wasn't meant as a tease, it did embarrass Pomni a little. She blushed as she still tried to move away from the wriggling fingers. She batted at them half heartedly.

Not wanting to overwhelm her, Kinger decided to relent. It was suppose to cheer her up anyways. "Feeling better?"

"Yeheah. Ihi think." Residue giggles lingered as Pomni rubbed off the tingles. She felt so..light. Like a weight had been lifted off of her. Guess laughter does solve problems sometimes.

It was weird, she hadn't thought that tickling could have an effect on her like this. Or that she didn't actually mind it. Then again, she didn't really remember her past self so she didn't have much to compare.

Kinger grinned softly as he passed Pomni some more water to cool down.

"T-thanks for that.."

"Anytime."

#tadc tickles #ler!kinger #lee!pomni #tickle fic #squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #the amazing digital circus #Author: fictitious-fluff

[squealing-santa]

A New Kind of Affection

Summary: Izzy Hands accidentally reveals how touch-starved he is to Stede, who is more than happy to help.

Word Count: 2,765

Happy Holidays and Happy New Year @aaaxolotl I was your Secret Santa! This was super fun to get to make, and I hope you enjoy! 💙

He still wasn't quite sure how Stede had dragged him into any of this. 

It hadn't been long, only a week or two, since Stede called him into his room, oddly similar to tonight. He'd asked for them to dine together, and well, Izzy didn't see much of a reason not to indulge his captain in his strange request.

They met in Stede's room for a surprisingly pleasant dinner, though Izzy felt unsurprisingly underdressed compared to his host's garish outfits, and he was well aware his table manners left much to be desired, but neither of those had been quite necessary for a pirate's life, and Stede didn't seem to mind, not when he was seemingly so enthralled by the company. 

Through Izzy teaching him how to fight, they'd grown fairly comfortable with each other, building up a rapport that was considerably less antagonistic than it had been before. They fell back into it over dinner with ease, perhaps more amiable than they'd ever been, and Izzy found himself even laughing at a few of Stede's jokes, though he hid it behind a strategic cough or two.

Neither of them realized, or cared, just how much they were drinking until they were stumbling around the room, hiccuping around their laughter, for once a genuine smile on Izzy's face.

Memories of that night were fuzzy, and what happened next wasn't entirely clear, but he crumbled under Stede's inquisitive gaze, his warm smile, his soft whispers, and he'd admitted something he shouldn't have.

Something he'd hoped that they'd both forget come morning, even when Stede squeezed his hand before he left, promising something about him being more included, more appreciated, before Izzy stumbled back to his own quarters, flushed from more than just the booze. 

He wished he hadn't admitted it. His jealousy when he watched his crewmates, or his captains, and saw the easy air around them, the casual touches and comfort; something about them made envy stir in his chest, thinking about the kind of relationship he hadn't let himself have for years, or maybe ever when he really thought about it.

Now, on The Revenge, it seemed more of a possibility than it ever had before. After breaking down, being vulnerable, Izzy was welcomed; something had shifted; whether it was in him or his surroundings, he didn't know, but it was a good change, no matter how uncomfortable it had been.

His relationship with the crew was different now. Friendly, because he'd finally allowed himself to be open to their friendship, and the change was more gratifying than he ever would've thought.

It was the most relaxed, most relieved Izzy had been in a long time, but he still wanted more, even if he felt he didn't deserve it.

He never would've pursued it ordinarily, admitted it to anyone besides himself, if his drunken self hadn't betrayed him entirely.

But that change, the change Stede brought on, was a good change too.

When they'd met again the next morning, Izzy more pissy than usual with his aching head, he thought Stede may have forgotten it based on his aimless ramblings filled with pleasantries that Izzy had to bite his tongue to sit through. 

Stede asked him again to meet him later in his room, and Izzy agreed; he hadn't expected what happened. 

He supposed it would be like the previous night, a pleasant conversation, perhaps a shared meal, a drink or two, though certainly not as much as they'd indulged it before.

And it had started that way. There was something about Stede, something that used to make Izzy's skin crawl, his anger, his annoyance overpowering everything else he felt about it, but now it only filled him with warmth, an easy, familiar feeling that allowed him to unwind. That must've been why he didn't suspect anything, certainly not when he and Stede shared a drink, casually picking at a tray of assorted snacks he'd prepared.

Maybe he should've; when Stede sat next to him this time, instead of sitting across from on the other side of his long table. It could still be ignored whenever they bumped shoulders or when one of them shifted slightly, their knees accidentally touching, or when they both reached forward at the same time, hands colliding for the briefest second before Izzy pulled back.

Until their food was finished, abs the conversation lulled, a not uncomfortable silence enveloping them as they nursed their drinks, and Stede, seeming to muster all of his courage, leaned into him, curling into Izzy's side and resting his glass on his shoulder with a content sigh.

Izzy stiffened, and his muscles didn't relax again for a long time, but they both kept the silence, and Stede didn't move.

His breath was steady, ghosting against Izzy's cheek and leaving a faint trace of Stede's wine, fruity and rich. While his hair was soft, delicate strands brushing against and tickling his ear, but he couldn't be bothered at the proximity, at his hair that was too lovely and soft and clean to ever belong to a pirate, yet here Stede was. Izzy wondered if it was Stede's pulse or his own that he felt, drumming violently against his skin, wondered if it mattered.

Not long afterwards, Izzy excused himself, and they parted ways; this time, he had no excuse for his blush.

-

He didn't know why Stede kept inviting him, or why he kept coming.

It wasn't something he was familiar with. His family had never been awfully affectionate. And as he got older, as he became a pirate, the opportunities became fewer and fewer.

Most contact came during a fight, in the form of a sword or gun or swinging fist, where the only pleasure that could be found came from the adrenaline coursing through his body, the satisfaction of winning, of surviving. There were few other means that arose on a ship aside from boyish tussling, accidentally knocking shoulders with his crewmates, or the rare moments of intimacy when he let someone else, let Ed, tend to his wounds after a particularly bad fight.

But Stede Bonnet came along with his eccentric, unpirate-like ideals and continued to confuse Izzy the same way he had since the first day he met. Bringing that unnecessary frivolity with him and introducing everyone to lavish comforts they didn't want to forgo. 

That, he supposed, was why he continued to join Stede; he didn't want to give it up just yet.

Which was why he was sitting on his couch, thumbing through a book from Stede's library, which was still a horrible idea, even if it made for interesting entertainment, with Stede next to him, hand holding Izzy's as he thumbed through his own novel.

It was one of the more relaxing ways he'd spent an evening in quite awhile, or it would've been, if there wasn't one thing nagging him, making his mouth twitch as the uncomfortable feeling spread. "Stop that?"

"What?"

"The hand," he murmured, gesturing with his neck as he struggled to insert his bookmark with only one hand.

"Oh," he let go, a slight frown tugging at his face as he leaned away a touch. "Sorry."

"Not you. Just tickled a bit."

Stede paused, the smile returning with a playful twist, "You're ticklish?"

He grunted, eyeing him warily. "Guess so. Never really been before."

"I've gotten into a few good-natured scuffles in my time. It can be quite fun!"

"You like it?" He couldn't help asking, surprised at the sudden admission. 

"Well, I've certainly always enjoyed it."

Izzy huffed out a laugh. He supposed it wasn't that surprising; Stede always had been odd, and it was just like him to like that kind of thing, something so strangely cute.

Leaning back, his eyes raked over Stede, cautiously debating in his head. It was clear as day that Stede was comfortable with him; the only limiting factor seemed to be Izzy's own hesitance, his lack of familiarity with the casual touches Stede so readily gave. He was being quite open about his fondness for tickling, almost suspiciously so. And while Izzy had never even dreamed of tickling someone before, had never even been the one to initiate contact between him and Stede in a non-violent manner, he supposed that here, now, wouldn't be a bad time to start.

"Let's see it then," he shifted, angling his body as he leaned closer to Stede, searching his eyes for any tinge of desire, of excitement.

"Go right ahead!"

His smile grew, eyes brightening at the prospect, but there was an undercurrent of shyness there, weighing down his cheerful expression, matching Izzy's own nerves. 

Slowly, he reached his hand out, touch and hesitant as he dragged in along Stede's arm, grazing his silken shirt. While Izzy had never been tickled directly, he'd experienced it plenty of times through accidental touches brushing against his own sensitive spots, so he had a fair idea where Stede would be ticklish; he just didn't know how much he could handle, yet.

Keeping his touch light, Izzy placed a hand in his stomach, unable to help a smile at his small gasp, and gently dug his fingers in, scratching at him through the cloth. 

At his deep breath, Izzy's eyes flitted back up to Stede's face, taking in his widening smile, perhaps brighter than he'd ever seen it before, as a giggle erupted from his lips, more pushing through in a steady stream of laughter as Izzy brought his other hand up to squeeze Stede's sides.

"Pretty sensitive, aren't you, Bonnet?"

"I suhuhppohose!" He huffed out, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap, trying to stay still for Izzy.

"I wonder where else…" he hummed, fingers dragging up towards his ribs, lightly pinching the crevices as Stede huffed. He was less ticklish there, but it was worth it to see the way his eyes crinkled, squeezing shut with a whine at Izzy's relentless pokes and prods to the area.

He continued exploring, marveling at how his armpits made Stede shoot his arms down, his resolve not to impede Izzy crumbling at the overwhelming sensations, while his neck made him scrunch up, looking oddly reminiscent of a turtle. Even his ears were ticklish, and quite sensitive to gentle scratches and traces, even more so when Izzy blew gentle puffs of air on them, making him squeal.

But his knees were probably his favorite spot. If only for the fact that when he squeezed it, the most adorably obnoxious snort burst from Stede, forcing him to bury his face in Izzy's shoulder in shame, while the other desperately tried and succeeded to produce the noise again. 

Gentle tickling seemed to get to him worse, if the way he shrieked when Izzy's nails glided against the backs of knees were anything to go off of. Even if it only produced quieter giggles compared to the full-bellied laughter Izzy knew he could force, it was better for watching Stede, seeing the miniscule changes in his expression, in his voice, and for allowing Stede to focus on Izzy's occasional teasing.

"Still having fun, Bonnet?" 

"Of… cohohuhurse!" He exclaimed, a tired sheen to his eye at how long it'd been, but his joy was much more prominent. 

Izzy opened his mouth but quickly snapped it shut, head swiveling around at the sound of the door opening,only to find Ed standing there, a confused grin hanging on his face.

"Is this what you two are always doing in here?" He laughed, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him.

"Ed!" Stede breathed out, face brightening again at the sight of his as he sat up straight, trying to smooth out his clothes, his hair, all while keeping his eyes locked on his partner.

Izzy stood up, taking a step away from Stede as his gaze flickered between the two. Would Ed mind him touching Stede like this? Stede had said it was fine, but he wouldn't want to overstep more than he already had, wouldn't want to take anything more from Ed.

"Well come on, mate," Ed faced Izzy, smile shifting into something devious as he walked closer, "why stop now?"

"You… don't mind?" He couldn't help asking, still not sure how he fit into a situation like this.

"Stede, you mind?"

"Nahat at all… I was just showing Izzy how fun tickling could be. He was much better than I would've thought!"

"Is that so?" Ed smiled, walking past Izzy to sit down next to Stede. "Think he's shown you enough yet, Iz?"

"Not quite. I think he still has a bit more to show us," he sat down on the other side of Stede, accepting Ed's acceptance of his role there. If it didn't bother Ed, then he wouldn't let it bother him anymore, even if he was sure everything between them wasn't exactly resolved yet.

Stede laughed nervously, glancing between them, "What else is it you want to see?"

"Mostly…" Ed hummed, grabbing one of his arms to wrench it above his head, waiting for Stede's nod of approval before digging into his underarm, "to see you laugh your ass off."

"Ehehehed!" He cackled, helplessly flailing, and Izzy took that as his cue, bringing his hands back down to squeeze at his thighs and knees.

If Ed wanted to push him, he could do that. And, judging from looking at them, Izzy guessed this wasn't the first time something like this had transpired between Ed and Stede. He only wondered if Stede had realized how awfully ticklish Ed was too, a secret Izzy had long since learned and guarded, but didn't seem inappropriate to reveal later, after they'd finished with Stede.

"Ihihizzy!"

"C'mon Stede, you keep saying our names like that. Just spit it out. What's on your mind?" Ed cooed, lightening up on his tickling to give him a moment to breathe.

"Ihihit's a lohot," he panted, grinning from ear to ear, "buhut it's fuhuhun."

"'Course it is. We're just getting started," Ed purred, delighting in how Stede's flush grew at his words, heart skipping a beat.

Izzy watched Ed kiss Stede's forehead, an uncomfortable pang shooting through him, until Ed turned back to him with a grin and wink, and together they resumed tickling Ed to bits.

-

"Good time, love?" Ed smiled afterwards, helping Stede to his bed.

"Yes, it was all quite lovely," he sighed dreamily, pulling him into a quick kiss. "But I do like it more when you're the one under me."

Ed reddened at that, laughing away his nerves as he glanced back at Izzy, who was awkwardly trailing towards the door.

"Where are you going, mate?"

"I thought it was time to excuse myself," he cleared his throat, averting his eyes. 

"No, no. Come here," Stede beckoned, and Izzy supposed he never really could say no to him that easily, certainly not now, so he swallowed and stepped closer and closer until he was standing by Stede's bedside.

Stede took a breath, reaching out for him, cupping his face, bringing his own closer, as he whispered, "May I?"

Izzy's eyes flickered to Ed's face, seeing only a smile and the slightest nod, not a hint of jealousy or resentment to be found. And so, he allowed himself to once again indulge in the luxuries that came along with Stede Bonnet, closing the distance between them to capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

Stede beamed at him when they pulled back, and he could only wonder if his face was as hot as it felt, practically petrified until Ed grabbed his hand, tugging him forward. "Come on, Iz. Get comfortable," he said, shrugging off his own leather jacket and slipping off his boots before he slid into bed beside Stede.

Even Stede's large bed was a bit cramped with the three of them, but Izzy thought it may have just been the best sleep he'd ever had. 

It was only affirmed by what he considered the best morning of his life as he woke up in the early hours, watching the sun stream in through Stede's windows, illuminating the two beside him that made it all feel so divine.

A faint breeze blew in, the cold weather penetrating the peace of their haven as he curled further into bed, into Ed and Stede, suddenly reminded on what day it was. As he stared at them, he could only smile, feeling at peace. He didn't know what the future would hold, but as long as he had them, he could feel secure and welcome the new year, whatever it brought.

#Author: lee-lucius #squealing santa 2k23 #tickling #tickle fic #ofmd #ofmd tickle #stede bonnet #ed teach #izzy hands #blackbeard #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #steddyhands #lee!stede #ler!izzy #ler!ed #Ss2k23