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bumbleleewrites · 1 year

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Three Times Tubbo Was Saved From Overworking

Summary: A compilation of times when Tubbo is comforted by others after trying to take on too much responsibility.

[DSMP S1] Switch!Tubbo, Ler!Tommy, Ler!Quackity, Lee!Ranboo

Word Count: 2.6k

Note: Tubbo and Ranboo’s relationship is written as being ambiguously platonic/romantic in this fic. I do not ship the creators.

First fic of 2023 and it’s good to be back! :3

“Tubbo? Hello?” Tommy called, snapping his fingers.

Tubbo’s heart skipped a beat at the startle. His vision unclouded as he turned to look at his friend. “Er, I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“You keep spacing out, Tubs! I was telling you about my idea to expand L’Manberg’s borders south, but are you okay?”

The president hummed in response and tapped his nails against the lacquered wood of his desk. “Yeah, sorry. I think I’m just stressed, is all. A bit overwhelmed, you know, with the new job. I’m fine, though, really.”

Tommy, who was seated in one of the two paisley-adorned chairs across the desk, frowned at him. “Right. I just… fuck, man, I feel like I haven’t seen you do anything fun in ages.” He stood. “Do you want to go for a walk? Get some fresh air or some shit? At least we’ll be out of this stuffy office.”

Tubbo looked out the stained glass window. It was a beautiful day outside; the sun was illuminating the land and creating a kaleidoscope of light inside the room. He nodded with a smile. “Yeah, sure.”

The pair left the legislative building, and Tubbo’s face lit up as soon as he passed those doors. He inhaled. He was happy to smell freshly cut grass and traces of honeysuckle in the wind, rather than the dust of the books on his shelves.

“Nice, isn’t it? Better than staying in that fucking office all day?” Tommy asked.

“Definitely.”

They walked over to a nearby ravine, stopping to pick flowers and admire interesting critters along the way. They found a shady patch, covered by the foliage of a tall, leafy tree. They sat down and watched the calm flow of the stream, how the water created ripples that illuminated the gleaming rocks below. They talked about mundane things, laughing joyfully the whole while. However, to Tommy’s dismay, Tubbo had heard a chime and pulled his telecommunicator out from his breast pocket.

“Tubs?”

“Sorry, just a message from Niki,” he explained, quickly tapping away on its tiny chromed keyboard, “She wants to know what I think about some building plans.”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “C’mon, man, I took you here to avoid work!” He reached over and grabbed the object from him.

“What the fuck? Tommy!” Tubbo complained, reaching for it as the taller boy held it high above his head.

“No way!” Tommy laughed.

Tubbo shook his head, his eyebrows knitted together in annoyance while an amused smile played upon his lips. “Alright, you asked for it!”

He squeezed Tommy’s side, and the blond dropped the device to cover his torso.

“Ah! What the hell?”

“You wouldn’t give it back!”

“You were being boring!”

Out of the blue, Tubbo found himself laying on his back against the damp grass, with Tommy grinning on top of him. Damn it, the boy had sure pounced quickly.

“Tom? TOHOHOMMY!” Tubbo cackled, as Tommy began quickly kneading his fingers into his belly. He attempted to grab Tommy’s hands, but this was only used against him. Tommy snatched up his wrists with one hand and held them above the brunet’s head, still prodding along his torso with his free fingers.

“Revenge, bitch!” He shouted in triumph as he squeezed Tubbo’s hip.

The hybrid’s ears flapped in mirth while blood rushed to his face from his laughter. He kicked out his legs from underneath his friend. “Fohohor whahahat?”

“For being boring!” Tommy felt Tubbo’s knee knock against his own and took that as a cue to start squeezing it, spidering under the kneecap every so often. He grinned when the other squealed at the change in spots.

“Ihihihah- I’ll behehe lehehess bohoring, I’m sohohorry, Ihihi swehear!” He shook his head, though he truly didn’t mind the playful contact. It was nice to laugh, and what was that project he was working on earlier? He couldn’t recall. After days of nonstop work, he welcomed the distraction.

“Yeah? And you’re going to hang out with me and not think about presidential shit? Because you’re a great leader and you need to stop being so hard on yourself?”

“Yeheah! Ihihi- wehehell…”

Tubbo began cackling once again when Tommy started drawing circles into one of his exposed underarms. He squeezed his eyes shut and felt his damp eyelashes brush against the lids.

“Say it, Tubbo! You’re a great leader and you’ll stop being hard on yourself!”

“Ohohokay!” He agreed, and tapped Tommy’s wrist.

Tommy stopped tickling him, and waited for his statement.

Panting through his residual giggles, Tubbo said: “Ihihi… I’m aha goohood leader, and I need to stop being hard on myself.”

Tommy hummed, and a smirk appeared on his face. Not quite, big man. I said ‘great’, not good.” He pinched along Tubbo’s side.

“Ah! WAHAIT! I’m a greheat leadeherah! Tohommy!”

“That’s better. Right you are, Tubs.”

He ruffled Tubbo’s disheveled hair while the boy shot him a glare that was rendered unthreatening by his wide smile. Tommy sat back down on the grass and handed Tubbo back his communicator. “Fuhuck you.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t be mean to me right now. I could easily do that again.”

Tubbo swallowed and felt a flush return to his cheeks when Tommy wiggled his fingers. “No! No, that won’t be necessary.”

Tommy bumped his shoulder with a chuckle. “Good.”

Tubbo sighed and pressed his fingers to his temple as he looked over the mess of the kitchen. Something sticky was burning on the stove — that wouldn't be coming off with any amount of scrubbing, Tubbo thought — with wisps of smoke rising from it. Pieces of chopped vegetables fallen from the counter were littering the floor, creating a sad, sparse confetti. A tall pile of dishes was sitting in the sink. In the corner of the space was a bag of half-eaten, discarded burgers: Tubbo's failed prototypes.

The boy had been eager to accept Quackity's offer to be the chef of Las Nevadas's burger restaurant. However, not long after accepting the job, the man had given him a list of demands, one of them being to create a menu featuring a variety of specified exotic ingredients. Tubbo was a decent cook, no doubt about that, but he was far from being a culinary genius. Quackity's requests were ridiculous. How could anyone be expected to come up with a good recipe that combines savory meat with citric chorus fruit?

He sighed. This was impossible! He supposed that he should tell Quackity that he had failed. Maybe he wouldn’t be as upset if Tubbo informed him, before the man had the chance to find out for himself. Tubbo removed his stained apron and draped it over his shoulder. He made the trek over to Quackity’s office. When he reached the chrome door, he gave a quiet tap on it with his knuckles.

“Boss?” Tubbo croaked, wringing his hands together.

“Come in!” Quackity called.

The goat hybrid opened the door. His hooves clicked across the tile as he shuffled into the room. Quackity stared at him from his plush, ornate rolling chair, with his feet up on his lacquered desk. His eyebrows raised in concern as his eyes trailed over Tubbo’s messy state. The boy had grease stains on his clothes, mustard in his hair, and bloodshot, tired eyes.

“Um, I’m really sorry.” His voice wavered as he spoke. “The ingredients you wanted me to include, I can’t come up with any recipes. I’ve been trying all day and the kitchen’s kind of a mess now, and there’s stuff burned onto the stove, but I tried really hard and-“

“Tubbo!” Quackity shook his head. “Fuck, listen to yourself! Listen! You need to take a break.”

Tubbo nodded and swallowed when he noticed that his throat was parched. When was the last time he had stopped to drink water? There was a slight throbbing around his temples, and were those tears beginning to form in his eyes? He really did need to stop working for a little while.

“Okay, yeah. I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to let you down, Big Q.”

Quackity stood, walked over and placed a compassionate hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, looking into the other’s goat-like eyes. “Hey, it’s fine, Tubbo. It’s fine. I know that I asked a lot of you, but only because I know that you can handle it. You’re the best fucking chef in town!” The man smiled and scratched behind Tubbo’s floppy ear playfully, which caused him to form a dopey smile of his own. “If anyone could make a good recipe, it’s you. Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s a difficult task.”

Tubbo looked at the floor and fidgeted with his hands. He hadn’t expected Quackity to be so calm, to be so nice to him. “Thank you, Quackity.”

He gazed out the window at the sun that was beginning to descend just behind the Space Needle. The warm orange glow being cast across the city indicated to him that night was beginning to fall. “Well, it’s getting late and I know that I promised I would get this done today,” Tubbo explained, “I should really be getting back to work.”

Quackity gave him an almost pleading look. “What did I just say? You need to take a break. I don’t expect you to get this all done today, especially with how hard it is. I can’t have my best worker burning himself out, can I?” He pulled Tubbo in for a hug, although he kept his posture stiff as if showing this affection would ruin his reputation as a stoic businessman. “Listen, man, you’re doing great. Just take the night off and relax.” He ran his knuckles lightly along Tubbo’s spine, and tension released from the boy’s shoulders.

“But… I know I should, and thank you, but the kitchen is still a mess and it will be much worse to deal with in the morning if I leave it overnight,” Tubbo protested.

The president raised an eyebrow and released Tubbo from the hug, keeping his hand on the boy’s back. “Don’t worry about that! Las Nevadas hires people to clean all of the buildings when they’re closed.” He paused. “Have you been doing it all yourself?”

Tubbo nodded sheepishly. “Yeah.”

Quackity shook his head with a slight, amused laugh and wiggled his nails against Tubbo’s shoulder blades. The hybrid couldn’t help but let out a stream of soft giggles. His ear flicked in embarrassment.

Quackity chuckled. “You’ve been doing all that work for nothing! I pay you for your cooking skills, not for cleaning.”

“Oh.”

“Go home and get some rest. If there’s anything on the list I gave you that just won’t work, we’ll talk about it in the morning. Okay?”

Tubbo nodded. “Okay. Thanks, boss.”

“No problem. Now get out of here,” Quackity joked, and squeezed Tubbo’s side. He barked out a startled yelp before leaving the office, with reddened cheeks and a contented smile.

Tubbo felt Ranboo shiver and pulled them closer. He knew that their silky fur did nothing to keep out the cold. If anything, it only trapped in the frigid humidity of the room and made Ranboo's skin prickle into goosebumps. Tubbo could tell. He felt the thin hairs along their forearms raising and pushing up against his own skin.

"You cold?"

They nodded.

The goat hybrid looked away. “I’m sorry.”

Ranboo looked away from the fireplace to lock eyes with his husband. “Why?” he asked, frowning.

“For asking you to help me shovel. I forgot that the snow burns you. I could have handled it myself.”

Ranboo gently cupped his face. “Don’t be sorry. We could have been snowed in, so the quicker we got that cleared, the better. It’s only a little bit stingy. At least it’s not rain.”

Tubbo nodded. He wrapped his arms around his spouse. "Better? Not cold?"

Ranboo nodded before he affectionately knocked his bicoloured horns against Tubbo's.

The goat hybrid gave him a warm, albeit hesitant smile. "Good," he replied simply.

He started to soothingly rub his hands up and down Ranboo's torso, hoping that the friction would provide them with additional warmth. Tubbo felt them exhale before he felt a soft rumbling against his side. Ranboo had started to purr. They had allowed themselves to slump into him, and he saw the tension release from their eyes. Tubbo relaxed into the comfortable weight. He pushed his face into Ranboo's shoulder with a contented sigh. Their clothes smelled faintly of pine, Tubbo noticed.

"Are you cold anymore?" he mumbled into the soft fabric of Ranboo's sweater.

"No. Thank you," Ranboo said shakily.

He firmly placed a clawed hand on top of one of his husband's, which was currently resting on Ranboo's side. Tubbo froze and looked down. His fingertips were just barely poised against the other's sides. He figured his pressure must have lightened as he became distracted.

Ranboo tipped their chin downward and rested it against the brunet's fluffy hair. "Sorry. You know I'm ticklish there."

Tubbo breathed out a short chuckle. He took Ranboo’s hand in his. "Don't apologize."

He slipped his free hand underneath Ranboo's bundles of clothing and lazily rubbed their belly. His blunt nails raked along their skin as he did so, and Tubbo felt their abdomen quiver underneath his palm.

"Beehee," Ranboo exhaled, and Tubbo could feel the giggles bubbling in their chest.

"Yes, my beloved?" he responded, with a tiny smirk.

“Whahat are you dohohing?”

“Warming you up,” he replied with a smirk.

"Yohou're mahaking it tickle on puhurpose now."

"Oh, am I?" Tubbo crooned. He nuzzled his head into his spouse's neck, and his eyes lit up at the small squeak that they emitted. "But you're not really trying to stop me, are you?"

The half-ender rolled his eyes and groaned softly. His fangs briefly flashed as he gave the other a bemused grin, tittering all the while.

Tubbo headbutted their shoulder. "I thought as much."

He unlaced his fingers from his spouse’s and traced along the squishy pad of Ranboo’s palm. His eyes lit up in adoration as they pushed their face into the back of his neck with a giggly whine.

“That feel nice?” Tubbo asked, with a quick scribble of his nails along Ranboo’s lower belly.

He heard a surprised, high-pitched laugh next to his ear, then felt them nod.

“I’m glad. I… I hope this at least somewhat makes up for making you go out in the cold.”

Ranboo rested their hand on Tubbo’s wrist and lifted their head. Tubbo paused and gazed up at him, watching the lines of mirth around his eyes fade into an expression of concern.

“I told you not to be sorry. I can survive a little bit of snow, Tubs. You needed my help, so I was there. We take care of our home together, not alone.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Tubbo’s head. “Please, don’t feel bad about this.”

Tubbo blinked away the tears that had started to form in his eyes at the kind words. He swallowed away the tight feeling in his throat. “Thank you,” he mumbled, and rested his head against Ranboo’s chest.

Ranboo rested his chin on Tubbo’s head. “Besides,” he started with a laugh, barely able to keep his composure, “You look like an old man when you shovel! Yohou’d think you’d get the technique right by now! So it’s a good thing that I was there to- HEHEY!”

Tubbo rolled his eyes as he kneaded quickly into their sides. “Care to repeat that, ticklish-boo?”

“Nohoho, but doho yohohou- TUBBOHO!”

The two of them would fall asleep on the sofa that night; tired out from laughing, safe from the cold and warmed by each other’s company.

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!tubbo #switch!tubbo #ler!tommy #ler!quackity #ler!tommyinnit #lee!ranboo #sfw tickle community

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soft--dragon · 2 years

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Smiling Like Sunshine

Word Count: 11,167

Warnings: Mentions of past verbal abuse/manipulation & feet tkls

Inspired by the fantastic fic Icing Those Hurts on ao3! This kind of spoils the ending of the story as it's set a little bit after the main conflict is resolved. You'll be able to understand the story without reading the original, but if you want the context (which again, is so fucking good, oh my god) then click the link provided <3

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

Also fun fact! This is the longest fic I've ever written and I'm very proud of how it turned out :D

Tommy didn’t laugh much.

His coach found his loud, boisterous cackles unfit for a figure skater of his standards. Hissing it was too ‘unruly’, and ‘disruptive’. He was ordered to get rid of the natural joyous sound and replace it with a softer, more polite sounding noise. “Something ‘better”, his coach had said, not even acknowledging Tommy wilting on the spot. “No one wants to hear that, you’re better quiet, just like how I've taught you. Understand, Snowflake?”

Tommy, not knowing any better, had lowered his head away from the man and nodded stiffly. “...Yes sir,” he muttered, his eyes stinging at being robbed of yet another thing that made him who he was, but he shoved down the need to cry. If he wanted to keep his coach, and stay on top of the figure skating competition, he had to make sacrifices, even if that meant stripping away parts of himself and throwing them into the flames for better publicity. He had to be good enough. He had to be perfect.

He had to be perfect.

______________

Then he met the SMP hockey team.

The hockey boys who were constantly messing around and teasing each other, lightheartedly rough-housing and laughing loudly. No one gave them odd looks for their wild giggling or impressive wheezes, often the people surrounding the team found the sounds contagious, Tommy included, though he barely let out anything other than a few huffs here and there. His proper laugh was locked away tight due to the constant reprimands and sneers of an old coach who hated every ‘imperfection’ he saw in Tommy. So, he stayed quiet, he stayed perfect. He owed the team that at least, after everything they’d done for him.

But over time, he learned a new lesson. He learned he was allowed to just… be him. He didn’t have to force himself to be the sad, dead clone his coach would marionette with cruel hands. So, he let the inner side of himself show, snippet by snippet. He allowed the ‘unruly’, ‘ugly’ side of him to break through the mental barrier without the exhausting restrictions of a cruel man.

However, the very first time he burst into a fit of small giggles at a stupid joke Schlatt made, his mind hissed venomously of disgust and repulsion and it died in his throat as quick as it had appeared. While he didn’t really mind the other parts of himself, he hated his normal laugh now. He hated the off-putting sound his body so naturally made, despite his best efforts to change it to a more fitting variation. Whether that was due to his coach’s constant reprimands or his own brain’s contempt for it, Tommy couldn’t laugh like he used to without something acidic spiking through his body.

Suddenly hit with the realisation he’d actually laughed normally in front of the hockey players, Tommy’s anxiety forced his eyes to nervously dart up to them, wary of the contempt and judging sneers undoubtedly sent his way. Instead of that however, he was met with the sight of the boys looking at him like he was something precious. He was swept into Wilbur’s arms not a second later, the man holding him in a bear hug murmuring softly, voice thick with something that couldn’t be described with anything but love.

“Tommy, that was so sweet, oh my god- please let yourself laugh like that more, oh god I’m gonna lose my mind! That was so, so cute-”

Tommy had shoved his face into his hands to deal with the warmth in his cheeks and confused happiness fluttering in his chest, trying to ignore Wilbur's cooing behind him. But the compliments didn’t stop there. Every time he let out a giggle, snort or laugh less controlled than before, he was sent such an adoring look it made him flush and grin shyly.

The boys found themselves trying to seek out the figure skater’s laugh whenever they could, hoping to make him more comfortable with the sound so he would stop trying to stifle it. And when Tommy’s coach was out of the way permanently, they upped their efforts of getting the kid to laugh. That mission was how Tommy found himself in the middle of a common trend his friends had started.

They’d gathered in the SMP’s room, re-watching tapes on the TV, pointing out certain things and making bits out of it, the jokes getting dumber and less understandable by the second, but it always made them crack up in one way or another. Schlatt had the unfortunate experience of snorting his drink and spent the next two minutes coughing and spluttering while the rest of the team howled at his misery. Techno gave him a solid thump on the back to help clear his airway, though even he was chuckling.

Tommy was nestled in Sapnap’s arms, similar to how a bear would cradle their cub, his shoulders bouncing with his small giggles he hadn’t let become verbal yet. Sapnap smiled fondly at the sight, though a tinge of disappointment tugged at his heart every time Tommy’s lips stayed firmly shut. He knew how sweet the laughter sounded, he just wished Tommy knew it too.

He leaned down a bit so Tommy could hear him over the cackling of the others. “Five bucks says Schlatt does the exact same thing in ten minutes.”

Tommy jumped a little at how close Sapnap’s voice was to his ear, flicking his eyes to the man and gave an amused smile. “Ten bucks says he does it in less.”

“You’re on.” Sapnap snorted, gently squeezing the boy’s sides. Tommy instantly flinched with a small squeak, leaning back into Sapnap’s chest like it was instinctive with his smile growing larger. The response lifted Sapnap’s eyebrows quickly, interest lighting up, though Tommy didn’t see it. He was too caught up in registering the sensation, the small tingles in his nerves both oddly unfamiliar and foreign at the same time. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt something akin to it.

Sapnap couldn't help himself. He did it again, just as gentle as the first time, fully grinning when Tommy burst into a fit of uncontrollable giggles immediately, quiet enough to not draw attention but oh, so pure. His fingers massaged into the soft skin, just enough to tickle but not be overwhelming.

Tommy's hands flitted instinctively towards his mouth to silence himself, then back down to the fingers wiggling into his sides. Honestly, Tommy could escape easily, yet he stayed in place, weight leaned into Sapnap. He wasn't used to this kind of affection, but he couldn't deny he was having fun. And as much as he hated his laugh and exposing the hideousness of it to his friends, he selfishly didn't want to stop. The soft touch was drawing honey rich giggles from within his chest, a sound unheard from him in a long, long time.

Though his small gasps of gentle laughter remained out of the others' ears - all too focused on Schlatt who was yelling about "war on liquids" or something - Sapnap listened lovingly, adoring the uncommon sound.

Upon slowly poking along Tommy’s sides and up to his ribs however, the boy was fast to clamp his hands firmly over his mouth, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to bear the soft tingling which had increased tenfold.

"Something funny?" Sapnap raised a brow teasingly, trying not to feel too sad about the fact that Tommy had been so fast to silence his real laughter.

Tommy couldn't reply with how rapidly his bubbly giggles were spilling from his mouth, heavily muffled by his hands but Sapnap could still hear it. With practice from past tickle fights of the SMP, Sapnap scratched along Tommy’s lower ribs, careful not to dig in too roughly and hurt the boy. Judging by the small buck and rapids squeaks of laughter Tommy let out, it was definitely a good spot.

"So sweet," Sapnap cooed warmly, endeared to no end by the teenager. "sweet giggly, firefly."

The flush in Tommy's cheeks increased tenfold. It wasn't sweet. It was ugly and wrong, he shouldn't be laughing like this, it wasn't-

Tommy suddenly squealed when Sapnap’s fingers started to scratch gently along his ribs through the hoodie, the feeling of the material tickling even more. "S-Sahapnap-" he gasped, breathlessly giggling.

At the small plea of his name, Sapnap let up instantly, returning to simply hugging the boy and dropping his chin into the messy curls. He felt Tommy lean into him, breathing a tad heavier after his giggle fit.

"Sorry buddy, I couldn't pass up the opportunity," he chuckled good-naturedly, hoping he hadn't actually overstepped anything. Tommy’s hands slowly slipped down from his mouth now that the laughter was disappearing from his breath. Despite how sudden and out of pocket the playful barrage was, Tommy found it wasn’t unpleasant.

"It's alright. I… I didn't really mind.” Tommy's small, mirthful admittance caused Sapnap's heart to clench in love instantly. How could one kid make him so soft?

'Didn't really mind' stuck out to the raven haired man, a smile spreading across his face at the implications.

“Sooo,” he murmured, watching as Schlatt put Quackity in a chokehold and Techno tried to stop Wilbur from doing the same to Schlatt. "Did you want me to continue?"

Tommy hesitated, his start to re-adjust himself put on immediate halt at the question. He didn't really expect Sapnap to want to continue, he'd surely laughed enough to make the man uncomfortable. But then and again, if he was offering…?

No one wants to hear that. You understand, Snowflake?

Tommy's hands squeezed the material of his pants. His voice was weak in his throat as he tried to figure out a reply. "...I…um…"

Sapnap's hand found his shoulder, thumb brushing gently against it and sending a comforting warmth through Tommy. "If you like it, I don't mind, bud," he smiled gently. "It's pretty cute, and seeing you smile is always gonna be a good thing.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the pinkness in his face if he wanted to, his ears burning a sweet strawberry red. “...Oh,” he murmured quietly, lost in thought. After a moment of consideration, Tommy leant back into Sapnap, tucking his arms over himself. “Okay,” he mumbled, trying not to look as flustered as he felt when he heard Sapnap coo above him.

Throughout the evening, Sapnap wiggled his fingers into Tommy’s sides when everyone else was distracted or when the kid was getting playfully snarky, the response of small muffled giggles and half hearted squirming made the man melt every single time. The kid was too cute. If the Olympics had a competition for the most adorable person in existence, Tommy would win gold every time, Sapnap believed that wholeheartedly.

______________

“You are messing with me- no way- Techno would never-”

“Oh you’d be surprised, pequeña estrella,” Quackity chuckled, his hand squeezing Tommy’s, the boy able to feel the warmth of Quackity’s palm through the gloves. “That man may carry himself with the air of some rich fucker, but he’s an absolute dork.”

“But- but he wouldn’t just lick a frozen lamp post or something-”

“Oh no, that was Wilbur who did that one. Techno tried to drink from a fountain and got his tongue stuck to the metal when he went too close. He’s never touched one since, outright refuses cause we have so many photos of him being stuck to a goddamn public drinking fountain.”

Tommy giggled, high and mirthful, his free gloved hand coming up instinctively to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, that’s- what the fuck-”

Quackity's smile dampened a little now that the treasurable sound was swathed by the glove, but he didn’t let it show, instead squeezing Tommy’s hand again and tugging him along faster back towards the buildings. They’d been walking through the snow for a good while, and Quackity couldn’t even feel his toes anymore.

“Come on, let’s go grab some hot chocolate kid, this cold is gonna kill me if we stay out any longer.”

Tommy nodded eagerly, his love for hot chocolate fuelled endlessly with how often the SMP players drank it. They quickly slipped through the doors of the dining hall, shaking off snow from their boots and plucking the gloves from their hands when the warm air of the room hit them full force. Though, that didn’t stop Quackity from taking up Tommy’s hand again, interlocking their fingers with ease. Tommy hid a soft smile, appreciating the gentle contact leagues more than the dark haired man could ever understand.

Quackity easily took the role of getting the drinks, letting Tommy quietly stand at his side and enjoy the hand holding. At some point, Quackity’s thumb slipped from holding Tommy’s to gently trace his palm, something he usually did with the other members of his team; it was basically a subconscious action. The repetitive, soft brushing over his skin made the nerves in Tommy's hand tingle, the feeling crawling around his palm like a little spider. The longer it dragged on, Tommy had to control himself not to squirm away from the affection, stuffing his other hand in his pocket and focusing on the floor, his smile stretching across his face and eyebrows drawing together.

It reminded him of what his mother used to do when he hurt his hands falling so many times on the ice. She’d gently brush over the sore spots and draw a smile out of him every time, quietly praising him for his progress and promising he’d get the hang of it someday. It was almost painfully nostalgic, yet Tommy found himself appreciating the feeling from Quackity. He missed the comforting feeling of his hands being tended to so carefully, even if it was at the expense of fighting not to laugh.

As Quackity finished up the drinks, he flicked his gaze to Tommy as he'd gone strangely quiet for quite a while. Seeing the boy’s gaze firmly on the ground sent a spike of worry rocketing through his gut and his brain was quickly swamped with fear. Was something wrong? Was he zoning out? Was he dissociating right now?! Had Quackity missed something-?

The rapid train of anxious suggestions came to an abrupt halt when Quackity caught sight of the wobbly grin the kid was trying to hide. He then noticed Tommy's fingers were slightly tighter in their grip around his own, and a soft pink tinged the boy's ears. It didn’t take a genius to put the pieces together. Quackity had to physically stop himself from squealing loudly in the middle of the dining hall. He didn’t want to accidentally kill Tommy in embarrassment, but come on, having ticklish hands?! That was definitely squeal worthy.

But Quackity, being the nice and generous person he is, decided to leave the murder for another day. He didn't think the others would appreciate the unfortunate death of their favourite blonde figure skater.

Hot chocolates done, he brushed his thumb over the beginning edges of Tommy's fingers to get his attention. "Want to go sit down, bud?" He asked.

Tommy nodded a few moments after the question, distracted with the soft ticklish touch buzzing through his palm. "S-Suhure.”

A giggle slipped out much to Quackity's delight, and he passed Tommy his hot chocolate, effectively keeping the boy from being able to muffle the sound further as both his hands were currently occupied. With that, he gently tugged the boy along to a free table, his thumb still tracing Tommy's palm lines to hear the small slips of laughter. He stored the precious little nugget of information away, internally fawning over such a cute quirk for the figure skater.

______________

George had usually been the one who guarded Tommy when he needed to nap. When he desperately had to escape from his coach and breathe, if only for a little bit. So it stood to reason that George felt the need to do the same thing now, even with Tommy's dickhead of a coach now gone for good. Tommy's naps weren't as frequent as they used to be, the teams' (almost overbearing) love and care making sure Tommy was well looked after. Tommy would be lying if he said he hated it, the love and worry the ice hockey players had for him was everything he'd wanted.

Now, he was lying on George's bed, dozing after a fairly intense training session on the ice. He'd been wanting to master a new jump, it was a tricky manoeuvre but he knew how to do the baseline of it now. It would just take a week or two to get the hang of it, and a little longer to do flawlessly. If his coach had been teaching him it, he would've been forced to practice it until he physically couldn't stand, the jump being mastered within seven days.

But thankfully, Tommy wasn't concerned about learning it fast. It was just for fun, and he knew there was no way the SMP boys would even let him on the ice again today, unless it was for another match of hockey with them.

Tommy shifted under his blanket and released a small sigh, his limbs weighed down with a pleasant tiredness, though sleep refused to come to him. George, who had been idly scrolling through his phone, immediately looked to Tommy.

"You alright?"

The blonde cracked an eye open to look at the man, feeling something warm curl in his heart at the concern peeking through George's brown gaze.

"Yeah," he answered after a moment. "Can't sleep is all."

George hummed, shutting off his phone and setting it down beside him. Then he asked, "Anything I can do to help?"

Tommy simply shrugged, not really sure there was anything George could do. This kind of thing happened sometimes, where he was tired enough for rest but there was just something holding him back, a need to keep moving, never stopping, never resting, always training, always on the ice, always perfect-

A gentle hand then brushed along his back, shutting off Tommy's brain in a split second. He didn't move, one eye open and staring at George's leg as he registered the contact.

Taking the silence as a good thing, George's palm brushed up his spine then slowly rubbed to his lower back. The pattern was slow and steady, a sort of massage that eased the tension from Tommy's muscles that he didn't even know was there. He melted into the softness of the blankets, eyelids fluttering and slipped closed. He let out a pleased hum, eyes sliding shut once more and a small smile lifting his lips.

“T‘s nice,” he mumbled into the bedclothes, barely intelligible with how slurred it was. George gave a gentle huff of laughter, amusement crinkling his eyes as he continued to rub Tommy’s back, removing years of tension and anxiety from his thin frame. “It was the only thing I could think of.”

Tommy nuzzled his pillow with a dragged out hum. “Good idea…big brain,” he muttered, “like a dolphin.”

There was a small huff. “I don’t think I’m a dolphin, Tommy, I'm more like a shark."

A soft noise of agreement drew out from Tommy. “Sharks are cool… Big brain shark.”

George rolled his eyes at how out of it Tommy was becoming, sleep cradling his tired body and gently pulling him down. George eased his palm from the boy’s back to replace it with his fingers, tracing the curve of his spine and around his shoulders in a slow, steady rhythm. Wilbur sometimes did this when George struggled to sleep, the gentle ministrations lulling him to rest far faster than nyquil ever did. Though, instead of settling further, Tommy’s shoulders rose a bit, a small mumble leaving him as he buried his face into the pillows.

George blinked at the odd response, shifting his hand further down to draw figure eights on Tommy’s lower back. “Is this okay?” he asked softly.

The blonde figure skater gave a small nod, keeping his face turned into the pillows, hiding a smile into the soft material and trying not to let out the giggles building in his chest. Though, George had a fond look on his face as he’d seen the expression, taken in the reactions, and put the pieces together.

It was quite sweet really, and Tommy wasn’t complaining about the sensations, so George kept lightly dragging his nails along the boy’s back and shoulders, noting when the boy would squirm slightly and a small peep would leave him. In a rare moment of mischief, George focused his attention on Tommy's shoulder blades, the boy finally breaking into a small fit of squeaky giggles. Almost immediately after, his hand came up to muffle the sound, a slight flush heating up his ears at how quickly his resolve broke. George however, only gave a pleased hum at the noises.

“There it is,” he said softly, giving Tommy’s shoulders a small, quick scratch before returning to the middle of his back, “thank you.”

…Thank you?

Tommy would’ve tried to figure out what on earth that meant, but his brain had essentially been turned to mush with the shapes and lines being gently traced into the curve of his spine. The soft, ticklish sensations swirling over his back caused small giggles to tumble free, despite the palm firmly planted on mouth. Tommy couldn’t hold back the noises if he wanted to, the dam broken much to his dismay.

Though it was odd, George continued to move his fingers along his spine to draw out the little mirthful noises, even with how hideous they were. Tommy didn’t understand why George would keep at the gentle touch if all it would gain was his obnoxious laughter.

A finger then scratched gently at the back of Tommy’s ribs, tingles shooting through his nervous system and causing his whole body to curl in on itself and a squeak slipping out. George, unbeknownst to Tommy, fondly smiled at the reaction. He spoke softly, just loud enough to hear over Tommy’s tumbling giggles. “You don’t have to force yourself to be quiet, Tommy, really you don’t. It’s just us.”

The rib tickling shifted back into soft tracing along Tommy’s lower back and up his spine, easing the growing tingles back to something more relaxing. Tommy’s body uncurled and melted back into the mattress at the soothing motions, his hand still feebly trying to muffle the quiet giggling. He didn’t want to expose the sound more than he already had. George shouldn’t feel forced to hear it-

It’s just us.

Just them.

It was just him and George. Gentle, careful, loving George. He’d never hurt Tommy before, never judged, he’d always been there as a comforting presence.

Tommy’s fingers gripped at his jaw a touch tighter. Maybe…maybe it was okay? At least for a little bit?

With slow, cautious movements, Tommy’s palm hesitantly slid away from his mouth, curling into a fist just over his lips and resting on the pillow under his head. It was ready to go right back over his mouth the second George got tired of his ugly noises. However, there was a small, pleased noise from the brunette behind him. It made his anxiety settle a bit, knowing he’d made the man happier with his choice. Tommy let himself relax into the bed, his hand losing tension so it was barely curled beside him. It wasn’t long before the gentle motions on his back lulled him into a sleepy state once more.

The small giggles began to ease from his breath, leaving him feeling lighter than ever. His eyes slid closed without him really realising as his exhausted body finally gave in to its weariness.

George smiled down at the boy and tucked the precious memory into the corner of his mind. Quietly, he turned his phone back on, continuing to scroll as his nails idly drifted across Tommy’s back, the boy having slipped into a blissful sleep, a smile still lifting his lips.

______________

One of the perks of adopting a teenage figure skater into a clan of dumbass hockey players was that it came with teasing privileges. Seeing the boy as a little brother, everyone got their fair share of light-hearted fun, Tommy enjoying the banter and countering it with his own most of the time.

There were times however, when he was faced with such an odd subject of teasing he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to it. Schlatt, for instance, had locked onto the fact that Tommy was practically a bean pole, and with that, he’d started making claims that Tommy could easily be carted around.

Tommy rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, giving the man before him a light-hearted glare. “I’m not that light, Schlatt-”

“You are. I bet that I could pick you up and carry you around easily for hours,” Schlatt countered, a shit eating grin on his face as he stood in front of the boy, arms crossed and eyebrow quirked challengingly.

“No you- you literally couldn’t. You struggle to lift yourself out of bed in the morning, what makes you think you could lift me?”

A bark of laughter from across the room made Schlatt send a middle finger towards the culprit, the culprit being Quackity who was curled up on a chair on his phone. The mutton-chopped chaos bringer smirked at Tommy, his eyes narrowed playfully.

“Right, you wanna bet man?” He asked.

The question made something uncomfortable roll in the boy's gut. “...Bet what?” Tommy looked a bit unsure as he spoke, his mind flashing to notes and misunderstandings.

Schlatt gave a one shouldered shrug with a flap of his hand. “If I can pick you up and carry you around, then you just gotta let it happen. But if I can’t, then I’ll do whatever you want for an hour.”

Quackity cackled again from his little throne, gleaming eyes watching the scene unfold before him. “Go on Tommy,” he encouraged. “When he fails, you can ask him to do a little jig and he’ll have to! Think of the blackmail opportunities!”

Tommy’s skin prickled anxiously at the thought of blackmail, but a warm hand on his shoulder turned his gaze back to Schlatt who was looking at him gently.

“We don’t have to bet or anything if you don’t want to bud,” he promised, “it’s all just in fun. Honest.”

Tommy blinked at him, not really expecting it to be that simple. Schlatt was a man of inhumane determination and explosive opinions, and yet he was ready to drop the challenge? Just like that? Why would-?

Because it’s you.

His mind offered the idea like it was something delicate and Tommy, gently, hesitantly, let himself hold onto it for a moment. Because it’s him. Schlatt’s willing to back out because it’s Tommy, no strings attached, no catches at all. The thought shouldn’t make his heart as warm as it did, but the little bubbles of happiness in his stomach was evidence enough.

“Okay.” He found himself saying. “If you’re able to carry me around for more than five minutes, then sure, bets on.”

Schlatt was grinning once more. “Excellent.”

Before Tommy could even prepare himself, Schlatt had ducked down and ducked his shoulder into the kid’s waist, scooping his weight up and sending Tommy sprawling over his back.

“Fucken hell!” Tommy yelped, scrambling to cling onto something, settling on taking bunches of Schlatt’s hockey jumper in his hands.

Schlatt, now standing upright, laughed loudly as he held onto the boy securely, grinning even though Tommy couldn’t see it. “There! What’d I tell ya? Easy.”

Tommy grunted, elbowing Schlatt’s spine a bit as he sat up the best he could. “Still have to keep this up for five minutes, Schlatt.”

“Oh please, I once did this to Soot for half an hour.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shot up and he smacked a hand into Schlatt’s back in indignation without much thought. “You- you dickhead! You conned me!”

The hockey player cackled, spinning on the spot gently. “Of course I did! Big Q, you getting photos of this?”

“I’ve been filming this whole time man.”

Tommy made an affronted noise, sending the man a faux offended look. “Quackity you were in on this?!”

There was another laugh from the beanie wearing devil. “Sorry dude, it’s kinda funny seeing you getting hauled around like a sack of potatoes.”

Exasperated and defeated, Tommy groaned, slumping into Schlatt fully and letting himself hang over his shoulder, grumbling incoherently about betrayal and treachery.

“Aw c’mon, lighten up bud, it could be worse,” Schlatt snickered, squeezing the boy’s knee gently.

The limb spasmed wildly, a strangled noise leaving Tommy as he kicked his leg out on reflex. Schlatt’s eyebrows shot up at the sudden reaction, then, with a look akin to a cat hunting a mouse, he grinned.

“Oh, what do we have here, hmm?” He purred.

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Schlatt immediately latched back onto Tommy’s leg and squeezed up and down the muscle. Tommy practically shrieked, wriggling in Schlatt’s hold as he broke into snorts, surprising both Schlatt and Quackity at how whole it sounded.

Tommy was so caught off guard about the sudden attack he forgot to muffle the ugly sounds spilling from him, though to everyone else in the room, it was the sweetest thing in the world. “Schlahahatt!” Tommy gasped out, gripping the back of the man’s jersey and hanging on, eyes scrunched with how wide his smile was.

Schlatt chuckled when Tommy squealed adorably upon his fingers scratching gently on the underside of his knees. “Yeah? What’s up, Tommy?” he goaded playfully, “I must say, you’re getting awfully squirmy up there, is something the matter?”

Through tumbling cackles, Tommy tried to formulate a coherent response to reply. “Ihihihihit’s- Ihihihi’m- S-Schlahahatt, ohoho gohohod-!” Though he was trying, Tommy could barely get a sentence out, laughing his heart out as ticklish sparks zapped through his legs like lightning.

The man chuckled at Tommy’s half baked words, scuttling his nails along the sensitive sides of his thighs. “Good try buddy, almost gave me an answer,” he jokingly praised, “you’ll get there eventually, I believe.”

Schlatt spun gently on the spot, causing Tommy’s mirthful giggles to pick up with the movement, the high pitched titters causing the softest grin imaginable to spread across Schlatt’s face. He adored hearing the boy laugh - not that pathetic fake thing his coach forced onto him - no, absolutely not. He meant the bright, wonderful laugh Tommy had kept locked away inside him. Every time it sneaked out, the entire hockey team would be a melted puddle of adoration and love, and Tommy didn’t even believe it.

But, the SMP had made it their goal long ago to help Tommy regain his footing in his life, secure in himself and everything he did.

Catching Tommy’s wheeze of laughter, Schlatt gave his knee a final tweak before patting the limb, not wanting to overwhelm the poor boy. “Alright, alright, I’m done. Promise.”

An elbow dug into Schlatt’s ribs from behind, making him choke a bit on air. Tommy sat up the best he could from his position, and looked over his shoulder with a glare that didn’t even hold any heat. “You are such a dick,” he exhaled a laugh, grinning despite the ‘mock annoyance’ he was trying to put on.

Schlatt didn’t reply. He was too caught off guard from what met his gaze. Tommy’s cheeks were flushed pink, just like they were when his routines got intense on the ice, a wide smile lifting his cheeks in a way that made his eyes squint. It made something warm and golden pool into Schlatt’s heart, something unfamiliar yet becoming common around the blonde teen. Ew, feelings. He couldn’t tell anyone that lest he be called ‘soft’.

Tommy blinked at the man when he didn’t respond, his smile slipping back to something smaller and unfortunately more regular for him. It made the warmth in Schlatt’s heart flicker and constrict. Tommy cleared his throat a bit awkwardly, looking abashed by the sudden silence after his laughter had filled the room for so long. “S-So what now? You’re just gonna carry me for an hour?” He asked, not sounding too sure whether he should be joking or not, ears burning in self-conscious embarrassment.

Schlatt blinked off his shock faster than Quackity - (who was still processing how happy Tommy had looked) - instead slipping on an easy grin in hopes of soothing the boy. He dipped his shoulder down suddenly, making Tommy yelp loudly and cling tighter to his jersey, a breathless giggle managing to find its way out of him. Schlatt straightened not a moment later with a shrug, gently jostling the boy who had laughter at the edge of his voice once more from the unpredictable movements. Schlatt would die before he admitted that the sound made him relax practically instantly.

He shrugged again just to be more annoying, Tommy moving with the motion as he spoke arily. “I was thinking of two hours actually. I’ve been meaning to break my record of carrying Quackity for one and a half.”

Tommy froze in disbelief, hands going slack in being balled in his jumper. “You carried Quackity for-?”

An outraged squawk sounded out from across the room. Ah, it seemed Quackity had snapped out of his stupor at last. “Schlatt shut the fuck up! You told me you’d never tell anyone about that!”

Tommy felt the chuckle reverberating through Schlatt as he laughed heartily. “Not gonna lie dude, most people I know are aware of that story.”

There was another yell, this one bordering on despair. “Oh, you absolute motherfucker!”

______________

Soft footsteps echoed down the halls, weighed down slightly and accompanied by the soft clink of skates tapping together.

“I told you to get off the ice sooner love,” Wilbur murmured softly, gentle hands supporting a certain tired blonde who was curled on his back. He felt the boy wince sharply at his words.

“I know. I’m sor-”

“No, don’t apologise.” Wilbur immediately interrupted, tramping up the stairs to his room. “I know it's a habit for you, we’ll break it though. You can’t be blamed for what that dickhead put in your brain.”

Tommy didn’t answer, instead pushing his cold nose into the back of Wilbur’s shoulder, trying not to cry. Though the tears weren't due to the pain twinging in his ankles.

He’d been skating for hours, not keeping track of time and subconsciously shoving down his body's' protests for rest. Shocking how quickly old behaviour came sneaking back when he’d thought he’d gotten better. Wilbur had found him - apparently the entire team was out searching when he didn’t turn up for dinner - and immediately got him off the rink. Due to how long he was skating, his feet hurt and his body was weighed down with tiredness. Hence Wilbur piggy-backing Tommy back to the rooms. Tommy had tried to protest that he could walk himself, but Wilbur refused to let him, getting the boy to clamber onto his back.

“I’d feel better knowing you weren’t in pain,” he admitted softly, taking Tommy’s skates from him and cradling his face. “It hurts me to see you like this, sunshine.”

So, Tommy had listened. And internally, he was quite grateful he had. His feet, despite not having weight on them anymore, ached horribly. Walking would’ve been a fucking nightmare. The gentle clinking of his skates in Wilbur’s hand, accompanied by the steady thuds of his footfalls was a steady rhythm that had Tommy’s eyes fluttering, leaning his head fully into Wilbur’s thick coat as drowsiness circled him like a buzzard.

“Darling, hey.” He was gently jostled, making him start with a weary noise. Wilbur’s apologetic look met his eyes. “I know you want to sleep, bubs, but we gotta get you some painkillers and some water first. I know how much you’d hate to wake up in the morning and feel like your feet are broken, right?”

It was a good point to be fair. Didn’t mean Tommy was happy about it though.

Wilbur laughed softly when Tommy made his opinions abundantly clear as he thumped his head back onto Wilbur’s shoulder, a deep groan drawing from his throat.

“I know, I know. The hassle of being looked after is dreadful,” Wilbur teased lightly, knocking his head gently into Tommy’s affectionately. “Only a few minutes of me fussing, Tommy, then you can sleep.”

“...Fine,” Tommy muttered, and in his heart, he felt the tingly feeling of warmth and love flood him.

It took a minute for Wilbur to figure out how to open the door with Tommy clinging to his back like a little monkey, eventually getting Tommy to twist the handle as he shouldered the door. Kicking it shut behind him, Wilbur moved over to the bed and gently deposited the kid onto the sheets.

“Right, I’m gonna check my bag for some painkillers, stay here and don’t fall asleep okay? You need to drink something first.” Wilbur ran a hand through Tommy’s hair before he stepped away into the bathroom, on a mission to find something to help relieve the aches plaguing Tommy.

The boy gave a sleepy hum a few seconds delayed of Wilbur’s instructions, glazed eyes keeping track of the duvet in case it went sentient and slithered away. Duvets could do that right? Yeah. Yeah, that sounded realistic.

Tommy giggled quietly to himself, almost deliriously, and scrubbed at his eyes, trying not to keel over into the possibly-sentient duvet and fall asleep right then and there. Where was Wilbur?

“..ommy? Hey, you okay?”

Ah, there he was.

“Hmm?” Tommy lifted his head slowly, a lopsided smile on his face at the sight of Wilbur looking down at him.

“You were just laughing randomly, I asked if you were okay.” Wilbur seemed more amused than worried, sitting down on the bed beside the boy, glass of water in one hand and two painkillers in the other.

Tommy gave a small nod, picking up the tablets from the man’s open hand as he spoke softly, but seriously. “The duvet could be sentient.”

Wilbur stared as Tommy took the water from his hand and sipped at it, tossing the medicine into his mouth afterwards, blissfully unaware of the absolute bombshell of a mind fuck-up he’d given the brunette next to him.

“...Right,” Wilbur eventually muttered, a borderline exasperated laugh leaving his mouth. “We are never letting you overwork yourself ever again, you’re going to turn into a cryptid theorist.”

Tommy cocked his head to the side, similar to a confused puppy. “What’s a cryptid theorist?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The blonde continued to drink his water quietly, gaze eventually shifting from the duvet to Wilbur as the man had slipped something out of his pocket and was unscrewing the lid. “What’s that?” He asked.

“Ointment. It’ll help with the muscle pain in your ankles. We use it sometimes after an intense game or when training takes a toll.” Wilbur popped the cap off and placed it to the side, patting his lap. “Hand em over.”

Tommy blinked, sleepy and clueless and overall just a sweet mess. “...Huh?” He mumbled. Wilbur just patted his leg twice and gave Tommy a fond look at his state.

“Your feet, c’mon Toms, I don’t bite.”

“Yes you do. You literally bit Schlatt the other day.” Despite his argument, Tommy swung his feet into Wilbur’s expectant lap, though it was with as much grace as a drunk swan.

“He tried to steal my pancakes, I think it was justified,” Wilbur defended with a chuckle, slipping off Tommy’s thick socks and placing them on the bed. “This is gonna be cold, sorry bud.”

“‘t’s fine,” Tommy mumbled, taking the last sip of his water and putting it on the bedside table, nestling back into the pillows and trusting Wilbur entirely.

Wilbur dabbed some of the ointment onto his fingertips and placed them on Tommy’s ankle, feeling the boy’s entire body shudder at the coolness of the cream. “Sorry, I did warn you,” he chuckled, gently rubbing the stuff into Tommy’s aching muscles.

Tommy practically went boneless, slumping into the pillows and giving a satisfied hum. Wilbur had to hold back a proper laugh at that, pressing more pressure into the muscles. “Jesus, you’re tense, have you never had a foot massage before?”

“Sounds fucken weird, why would I need to? I stretch, don't I?”

“So do we, but we sometimes have days where we need to take extra care of ourselves.”

Tommy smiled to himself in thought. “Quackity told me how Sapnap and him have spa days.”

Wilbur really did laugh at that one. ”Yeah, I’ll never forget the time they got me to go to one, I was so uptight the entire time.”

Tommy raised a brow lazily, eyes fluttering. “Why? This feels nice?”

The brunette gave a small huff, sending the boy a bit of an embarrassed smile. “Cause I’ve got ticklish feet mate, I had to fight for my life not to kick the person giving the massage.”

Tommy couldn’t help but snicker a bit, imagining the predicament. “Sounds kinda funny. I hope they recorded it.”

“Oi,” Wilbur warned playfully, “I have the video of Schlatt carrying you around, don’t make me start making fun of you for that.”

Tommy held his hands up in surrender, grinning tiredly at the brunette who rolled his eyes and continued back to his work. The atmosphere was one of peace, Wilbur making sure all tension was out of Tommy’s battered ankles, and the boy thoroughly enjoying the gentle treatment. God, he wished he’d known about this kind of thing sooner. Anytime he’d overworked himself and ended up with stiff muscles or cramping joints, his coach had begrudgingly given him a day to recover, or blatantly told him to “not fuck up our chances of winning”. It seemed ridiculous thinking back on it now, as his coach was the sole reason for his condition getting worse, yet Tommy was blamed for his own injuries.

Tommy’s bitter thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt when he felt Wilbur’s cold fingers start to gently rub into the soles and tops of his feet,

Wilbur flicked his eyes back when he felt Tommy lock up, and had to bite his lip to avoid fawning over what he saw. Tommy had his hands pressed tightly over his mouth, his whole body quivering as he fought for his life to keep his laughter in. The redness in his ears and cheeks were undeniably adorable, as was the slight scrunch to his nose that matched his eyes which were squeezed tight.

“You’re allowed to laugh, you know,” Wilbur reminded gently, turning away from Tommy as he cracked an eye open at his voice. “I did when this happened to me. Nothing wrong with having a giggle, sunshine.”

The nickname made Tommy soften and simultaneously more embarrassed, hands only clamping tighter over his lips to restrain the bubbly titters. He’d been letting the uglier side of him out more - too much more - he had snorted in front of Quackity and Schlatt for crying out loud. His coach’s honey-doused words circled his brain. No one wants to hear that. You’re better quie-

Wilbur scratched gently underneath Tommy’s toes, and his mind shut off, a squeal leaping out of him and very quickly followed by high pitched giggles. He tried to pull his feet away instinctively, but Wilbur simply tightened his hold marginally.

Wilbur tutted with a flex of his brow. “Ah ah, I’m not done yet,” he reprimanded lightly, putting more pressure on Tommy’s soles again to massage as he rubbed the ointment into the skin. “Stay there darling, just a little longer.”

Tommy, now that his dam had burst, couldn’t contain his giggling, shifting his hands from covering his mouth to clapping entirely over his warm face, shoulders drawing up to his ears as he laughed squeakily.

Wilbur chuckled softly at the endearing sounds. “I’m not even trying to tickle you right now, are you really this sensitive?”

“Lihike yohou hahave rohoom toho tahalk,” Tommy pressed out, shifting around in his nest of pillows in a weak attempt to bear the tickly movement brushing along his feet.

The hockey player snorted. “Touché. Also, uncover your face would you? I can’t see you smile or hear your laugh when you do that.”

Tommy’s ears flushed brighter, and he shook his head. He had already laughed too genuinely for his liking, the sound was so loud and wrong, he wasn’t meant to-

“Come on darling, I want to hear your giggles,” Wilbur coaxed, lightening his touch to gentle tracing along the sides of Tommy’s soles, smiling when Tommy shrunk in on himself with another squeal. His hands slipped down enough to show his eyes, and Wilbur cooed lovingly. Tommy’s eyes were squinted with his smile, alight with an endearing spark Wilbur had only seen when Tommy was really happy.

“Awwww, there’s my sunspot,” Wilbur murmured, returning to massaging Tommy’s feet, though he wasn’t adding as much pressure as he was before. It wasn’t his fault Tommy was this adorable, okay? Sue him for wanting to ease some laughter out of the teenager.

Tommy’s heart was warm with Wilbur’s affectionate tone, and despite his mind yelling at him not to, he slowly slid his hands from his mouth to interlock his fingers in front of his chin, his giggles now crystal clear. The soft, approving coo from Wilbur was worth the warmth in his face.

“There we go. Well done, Toms, I’m so proud of you.” He smiled so genuinely Tommy couldn’t help the small flicker in him that believed it.

Due to how exhausted Tommy was, Wilbur didn’t purposefully tickle him for long, going back to the original task of massaging the tension out. It didn’t stop Tommy from giggling though.

When Wilbur eventually finished the massage, he slipped Tommy’s socks back on and flicked his eyes up to the boy. He slapped the back of his hand to his mouth and bit down on the skin to avoid cooing obnoxiously loudly. Tommy was nestled snug in the pillows, head turned to the side and half buried amongst the plush material. His cheeks were tinged a light pink and his smile was still there, hands holding his arms in his sleep.

Wilbur counted to ten to compose himself, having to stifle the little happy noises weaselling out of him at how peaceful Tommy looked. Gently manoeuvring the boy’s feet off his lap, Wilbur stood and dragged a heavy blanket over to cover Tommy, trying not to cry endeared tears at how he seemed even smaller under the big, fuzzy cover.

"I hope you sleep well, sunshine," Wilbur murmured, running a gentle hand through Tommy's curls, his thumb brushing over the boy's temple.

He was relieved he'd been able to find Tommy, the panic in his veins was not something Wilbur wanted to experience again any time soon. He settled down on the floor, easily in reach of Tommy should something happen. Pulling out his phone to pass the time, Wilbur was grateful it had been on silent and not disruptive to the boy should anyone call. He was surprised to find it overwhelmed with notifications of the others texting him.

Ah. Shit. He'd forgotten to message to say he'd found Tommy.

______________

Being the captain of a hockey team sounded difficult. Being the captain of the SMP hockey team was an absolute mission. It was constantly filled with making sure Schlatt didn't wage a war on someone, keeping George from killing Sapnap when the jokes were getting out of hand, monitoring Quackity at all times lest the small man buy a whole store for the team. At least Wilbur was somewhat manageable and easy to keep track of, unless he was on a chaotic streak, then everyone needed to be on high alert.

A new addition to the odd little family however, was a figure skater that had single-handedly managed to get everyone wrapped around his finger, and he wasn't even aware of it.

Tommy, to put it simply, was one of the sweetest people Techno had ever met. His hugs were a mood booster in themselves, his smile brightening any room, and to be frank, his laugh could bring world peace. Techno was grateful his team was so good at taking care of the boy, his progress with simply living as himself was way better than it was a mere few months ago, and it was due to their encouragement and support. Who knew how long the poor boy had been shunned and belittled for not presenting a 'better' front. He deserved to live a happier life, and by god the SMP was going to give him that.

Techno also discovered, due to Tommy's constant pressure to be perfect, he was afraid to pick up new things. Terrified he'd disappoint someone with how awful he'd be at something he'd never had any experience with. It took a little to even get him to hold a hockey stick, and more time to try playing around with it. Wilbur was usually the one teaching the kid how to play their game, but Techno occasionally stepped onto the ice to help Tommy instead.

Techno enjoyed helping the teenager learn, talking him through strategic manoeuvres and stick control to better keep the puck away from other players. However, Tommy was having difficulty with one of the more complex plays, overthinking the movements and ultimately losing the puck to Techno who was circling him.

"Hey, it's alright. Try to angle the stick to cover the puck more from the direction I'm in- yeah, there you go." Techno praised gently as Tommy did what he said, shielding the flat disc away from his stick.

Tommy's brow was tightly drawn together as he clumsily corrected himself before the puck could slip away again, gripping the stick tightly to cope with his anxious heart. An apology for his underwhelming ability was on the tip of his tongue, but Techno's next words made it die.

"You're picking this up faster than Quackity actually, he couldn't figure out the movement without slipping over himself." The captain idly skated past Tommy as he spoke, doing a lazy turn to face the boy.

Tommy's ears burned and shoved down the warmth curling inside him. His coach would've been incredibly disappointed if he saw how lacklustre he was performing. There would've been no praise. No gentle critique. Nothing that man did or said was gentle, it was jagged and sharp, meant to cut into someone and make them bleed. Techno was better than that, everything he said was genuine.

The puck was snatched from him as Techno suddenly appeared and slid his hockey stick across the ice, nicking it with startling speed. The surprise of it made Tommy skid to a halt on his skates, blinking up in alarm at Techno who was watching him with a small smile.

"You got caught up in your head again," he said lightly.

Tommy's cheeks warmed in embarrassment and he tried to regain his composure to explain himself. "You just- you were nice to me, I wasn't expecting it."

There was a small exhaled chuckle from the pink haired captain. "Well, that's why I do it, because you shouldn't be unused to kindness," Techno sent him a small smile, sadness tinged it but it disappeared quickly. "Though if it distracts you so much then maybe I should implement that tactic into our usual strategies, hmm? Would that throw the other team off?"

"Please don't," Tommy choked on air, grinning though his face was definitely more pigmented than before. "That would be one of the worst things ever done in ice hockey history."

"I'm sure I can think of things that are way worse." Techno's mind flashed to a certain team whose tactics were downright cruel, specifically towards one of his own team members. He shook off the thought before it rooted itself too deeply. Now wasn't the time. Techno cleared his throat and straightened up. "Right, let's try it again, and Tommy, keep your focus on the puck, okay?"

Tommy nodded and gripped the stick more readily, catching the disk when Techno slid it over to him. The captain skated to the end of the ice once more and spun to face the blonde. The teen seemed more focused, though his face still held that pleased warmth to it, still calming down from Techno's previous words.

Techno held back a grin at the thought of Tommy getting so flustered over a simple compliment. It was pretty cute.

He skated forwards quickly, but this time Tommy was ready, immediately angling the puck away with his stick and skating to try and pass by the man.

"Good, Tommy, very good," said Techno encouragingly, skating around to Tommy's other side to try and swipe the puck, but it was intercepted fairly quickly. Techno was amused to see Tommy's face having a shy grin on it.

The gentle scuffle for the puck was good practice for Tommy, though Techno’s brain was already pointing out openings and weaknesses in Tommy’s form that he could easily bypass and grab the disk. He ignored his thoughts though, and instead slowed down his skating and drew his hockey stick away as he spoke.

“Tommy, just a pointer, a way to keep people away from the puck is to use your body as a barricade. Staying how you are would allow other players to take advantage of any opening you have to get the puck.” As Techno spoke, he angled his body in example, broadening his shoulders and shielding over his hockey stock. “See what I’m doing? Try it.”

Tommy immediately shifted his body to copy Techno’s form, masking the puck from view and keeping Techno blind to the disk. It was a nice start, though Techno saw the ways he could break past the defence. He shot down his brain before it could get ahead of itself, stamping on it as well for good measure.

“That’s pretty good,” he said, straightening out of his guard position to circle Tommy, checking his form for possible improvements. “Another thing to remember is that you need to be aware of who’s around you when you’re guarding. Whether it be an opponent or a teammate, keeping track of everyone else will help your ability to keep the puck. Knowing the place of your teammate means you’ll have the chance to hit it to them if you’re in a tight spot and can’t break through the opposition.”

Tommy nodded along with his words, starting to uncurl his shoulders as he paid attention to Techno’s advice, forgetting his task of protecting the puck and instead drinking in everything the man was saying.

“Though, if it is the opposition overwhelming you, they could come in from any direction to catch you off guard. Knowing where most of the other teams’ players are will give you a better shot of not being hit from your blind spots.”

Almost subconsciously, Techno reached over and gently poked Tommy’s stomach which had gotten more exposed from the lack of defence. Tommy jolted away with a yelp and sharply turned to face Techno, the puck tightly drawn close to his stick and far out of Techno’s range. The captain stared for a second then smiled.

"Right. We can work with that actually,” he said, standing up straighter and skating away. “We’re going to run that again, remember what I said about barricading.”

Tommy blinked as Techno backed up, his brow scrunched endearingly. "Work with what?" He asked in confusion.

The captain sent him a grin. "You're going to try and keep me away from the puck using that defence I just showed you, and you'll know if I'm able to get through it if I can reach your stomach."

Instantaneously, Tommy's belly fluttered with nervous butterflies at the implications. His whole face warmed as he spluttered. "I- ah-… wh-what?"

Techno snickered, "This shouldn't be an issue as long as you guard correctly, now, take up your defence."

Tommy, still flushed warmly, scrambled to hide the puck behind his hockey stick, his mind racing a mile a minute as he tried to figure out why on earth Techno would use such an odd teaching method to help him learn the move. Surely this couldn’t be a common thing in ice hockey-

Techno rushed across the ice and Tommy’s brain went from confused to 'game mode' in a split second, skates scraping against the floor as he shifted his body to protect the puck.

"Good, Tommy, very very good," Techno praised, skidding to the boy's other side and seeing how fast the teenager swerved in defence.

His stick knocked the puck closer to him, skating backwards to keep Techno moving as he tried to find an opening to slip by. If he could get by and score a goal that would surely make the captain proud.

Techno suddenly changed tactics to circling Tommy, making the boy turn with him, hyper aware of the puck and his torso being exposed for even a second. It made something giddy and mirthful bubble in his chest, a giggle spilling from him without thinking. It was kind of fun, the added challenge of keeping the puck safe as well as his stomach.

Techno chuckled a bit at the sound Tommy let out. It was good to hear him sound like a kid. He’d wanted this to be a bit more fun for the boy.

“Someone’s getting giggly,” he commented airly, skidding around suddenly and - with Tommy’s delayed reaction to it - was able to weasel a hand under Tommy’s arm to prod his stomach. Tommy instantly jolted, a high pitched yelp leaping from him. With a fast movement, he’d spun around and dragged the puck with him, keeping Techno in his sight once more, shoulders bouncing with his rapid giggling.

Techno seemed a bit taken aback with the fast reaction, eyes wide with surprise that quickly morphed into something impressed. “Swift recovery, excellent, Tommy.” He then grinned playfully. “Let’s see how long you can keep that up.”

The next few minutes were filled with Tommy’s giggles and Techno’s gentle laughter, their shared giddiness practically able to be felt as Techno chased Tommy around the ice for the puck and Tommy tried to protect it. Techno had managed to get Tommy so distracted by keeping the disk away from him that he didn’t even seem aware how much he was laughing. Every once in a while, Tommy would let slip a snort, a squeal, and at one point, a series of particularly endearing squeaks. Due to Techno managing to reach over and tickle the boy every once in a while, the bubbly, mirthful noises remained consistent.

The entire scene was sweet enough to give someone cavities.

Ice skidded out from Techno’s skates as he made a sharp turn past Tommy, scribbling into his stomach in passing and the puck just about skidded out from his hockey stick with how badly Tommy squirmed away from the contact.

"Come on, Tommy," Techno gently teased, grinning widely as he watched Tommy quickly reclaim the skidding disk, "keep defending that puck, don't let me get it."

Tommy was in fits of wild giggles, flinching away from Techno but trying to keep the puck close, inevitably making the man go back in to scuttle across his abdomen and try to steal the disk. Though, to be fair, Techno wasn't really trying, he was just being a menace.

"Tehech!" Tommy squealed, swivelling on the ice to protect the soft spot from the fingers.

"The puck, Tommy, I'm gonna get it if you let it go." Techno shifted his stick towards the disk but Tommy swiped it back under the cover of his own quickly.

Techno, admittedly rather meanly, scribbled across Tommy's stomach when he saw an opening and gently wriggled his nails up the boy's side when he tried to squirm away.

"TehEHEchnoho!" Tommy's voice jumped an octave and he turned sharply to keep Techno in front of him, only just managing to keep the disk under his hockey stick and not sliding away across the ice.

"There we go, much faster reflex that time," Techno approved, watching fondly as left over giggles spilled from Tommy at the harmless attack.

The boy didn't seem against the unique teaching, if anything, he seemed to be having fun. It then occurred to Techno that Tommy hadn't said "stop" the entire time they’d been messing around. Interesting.

When the time came that Techno decided they’d been on the ice long enough, they skated off the rink and sat down on the benches, taking off their skates side by side.

"That wasn’t a common way to practice," Tommy commented, sipping from his water bottle and tugging on a hoodie. It basically swallowed him whole - Tommy quickly deduced it was Sapnap’s due to the familiar cologne and well-kept softness of the fabric.

Techno huffed, drinking from his own bottle as he stared out onto the ice. "You'd be surprised. Phil used to do that with me to train my reflexes."

Tommy paused, the bottle inches from his lips. "...He did not."

"Oh yeah. That man is good at what he does, but he also knows how to be evil when he wants to. Helped me learn though."

Tommy giggled again at the idea of it. Techno was pleased to see he didn't cover his mouth, the sound remaining in the open and unmuffled.

It was comfortably quiet as the pair sorted out their bags and prepared to leave the rink, but something weighed on the back of Tommy’s mind. He had noticed the commonness of the SMP players poking and prodding him to make him laugh. He wasn’t an idiot, he caught on after Schlatt’s playful attack on his knees, though he wasn’t expecting this kind of attention from Techno as well. He didn’t understand why they kept doing it, other than to make him laugh, but that was such an odd reason for the random affection. Surely it couldn’t be that simple.

Tommy put down his water bottle.

"Techno?"

The man flexed his brow in acknowledgement. "Mhm?"

Tommy hesitated then turned to look at the pinkette, something shy in his face and anxious in his eyes. He wet his lips before he spoke. "My uh, my laugh…"

Techno's attention immediately shifted to fully focus on the boy, the small words holding a mountain of weight behind them. "Yes?" He probed gently, his face open and carefully neutral.

Tommy's hands balled up the fabric of his pants and he dropped his gaze to the floor. "You guys… really don't mind it, right? Like- you all seem really taken aback whenever I do laugh and I get it- I do, it can be a bit much, but you don't seem…disgusted by it. The past week everyone has been trying to make me laugh and I don’t get it. My laugh sounds awful but you never act repulsed by it and I…you just let me do it and I can’t figure out why. I don’t know if you’re doing it to make fun of me or-"

"No." Techno's hands were suddenly over Tommy's, holding them gently but strongly.

Tommy's mouth snapped shut in a blink of an eye. He stared at the man, Techno holding his gaze firmly, but it was kind.

Techno took a breath and shook his head as he exhaled, running his thumb over the back of Tommy's hand to calm himself down. "No. We’d never make fun of your laugh," he said quieter but with no less resoluteness. He took another breath. "Tommy, your laughter… it's wonderful. Honestly, we've been trying to encourage you to let yourself do it more so you don't feel self-conscious about it around us."

Awkwardly, Techno smiled and squeezed Tommy's hand. "I'm not that good with words," he admitted with a small chuckle. "But, to put it simply, we love you, Tommy, and we want you to be yourself. Your laugh sounds so much better naturally than it does faked, you never have to force yourself to tone anything down. You never should force yourself to be quieter, to be ‘better’ or whatever your brain tells you. We prefer you just being yourself. We adore you the way you are."

The silence in the rink seemed so much louder upon Techno finishing his little speech. He was quiet where he sat, gauging Tommy’s reaction with mild apprehension, a little worried he’d said too much and overwhelmed the poor boy. Tommy was staring at Techno with wide eyes, mouth slightly parted as he absorbed the words like a dried out sponge. Then he blinked, then he blinked some more, then his vision was blurry and Techno was panicking.

"Oh- oh no, Tommy- shit- don't cry, I'm sorry if I upset you-"

Tommy threw himself into Techno's arms, hugging him so tightly it almost cut off his breathing. Shoving his face into the man's chest, he inhaled shakily to try and control the tears that were now streaming down his face.

"Thank you." He gasped, gripping the material of Techno's jumper and clinging closer when Techno wrapped his arms around him in return, warm and sturdy. "T-Thank you, thank you, Techno."

Techno smiled into Tommy's hair and pressed his face into the golden curls. "Of course, Tommy," he murmured. "For you, the world."

______________

Tommy didn't laugh much.

Or at least he didn't use to.

He’d been in a chokehold of something venomously toxic for years, draining him of every little quirk and characteristic. Then he’d met people who weren’t even close to being like that. They loved him, and everything he could offer; his smile, his humour, his laugh. Something so disgusting to someone who put on a façade of love, and so precious to people who adored him openly.

Met with adoration and fondness every time, Tommy let himself laugh around the people he cared about, despite the cooing that would one day kill him of flustered embarrassment. The SMP boys were pleased they were able to coax the boy into being more comfortable around them, months of work put into bringing the kid out of his shell absolutely worth it to hear Tommy laugh freely. Internally, they all wished they were able to beat the hell out of Tommy’s coach for training the teen to hate his laugh. The fantasy of beating up that human shit stain was often dreamt upon for the team. It was a shame murder was so frowned on, Schlatt was ready to grab a chainsaw the second someone said the word.

Techno silently mourned the fact he hadn't punched hard enough to knock some teeth loose the first time.

#my fanfic #lee!tommy #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #please go read icing those hurts #its actually one of my most favourite fics ever written #all fluff here folks #ler!wilbur #ler!george #ler!sapnap #ler!techno #ler!schlatt #ler!quackity

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wishitweresummer · 1 year

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Kissies (Quackity x KarlJacobs x Sapnap)

(Karlnapity fic)

Word Count: 914

Warning: This one is pretty intimate, kissy, and domestic bliss-y. (Still a fluffy SFW fic)

This one's set in the DSMP with their characters and the storyline where they are all engaged together. This is in a sweet spot where everything is okay and perfect.

Quackity was in heaven. His body melted into the couch slowly from all the touch and emotion consuming him. His arms wrapped around the loves of his life. His head was turned slightly to the side as he matched the pace of Karl's sweet kissing. They both smiled into it, Quackity's a little twitchy-ier. Sapnap's mouth was a little more mischievous. He really should be sucking on Quackity's neck, but instead he kept getting distracted with his want to make him squirm. Slipping in ticklish little smooches and nibbles.

It teetered on the edge of torment, but enough that Quackity could still hold back from letting any embarrassing giggles out.

"You're so squirmy.", Karl murmured amusedly against his lips, not yet aware of his other partner's playful mouth driving Quackity a little crazy. The acknowledgment drew a soft whine from his lips. He thought he'd been keeping his reactions under wraps better.

"He's just so ticklish, I can't help it.", Sapnap spoke up, all too aware of the effect of his words.

"Oh are we tickling him now?", Karl trilled excitedly. He smirked as Quackity pouted at the sudden lack of lips against him.

"No...we're kissing him.", Quackity informed the two, speaking in third person. Sapnap sat up a little and he swiveled his head to see him, only to shrink back a little at the dangerous glint of playfulness that stared back at him.

"Kissies? You want kissies?", Karl whispered into the unsuspecting ear, suddenly holding him in place. Karl kept him in place easily while delivering soft tickly kisses rapid fire down at his collarbone, relishing in the desperate giggles it drew from the smaller boy.

"So cute.", Sapnap purred evilly, striking fear in Quackity's heart. He knew he was done for now.

Sapnap's hand suddenly slid up his shirt and grabbed at his bare tummy and sides. Quackity squealed embarrassingly loud, completely worked up.

"Guys...", he started, but halted the horrible words and shook his head. 'Shit.', he thought. The other two laughed anyway.

"Guys pleeeease! Don't tickle me!", Karl mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

"Guys pleeeease! I'm just so ticklish!", Sapnap teases, matching Karl's pitch.

Quackity folds instantly, groaning as he puts his reddening face in his hands. The feeling of both his fiancé's zeroing in on his every word and movement overwhelming him.

"I hate you guys.", he mutters, flinching at the warning poke to his side. He's done it now. "No, I hate you!", it's more muffled as he covers his face more. A squeak forces it's way out as someone squeezes his side.

"Oh you better stop.", Karl growls right up against his ear, making him jerk away with giggles. Sapnap catches his shoulders easily and sinks his teeth into his neck, wringing out a hilarious shriek from the smaller boy, laughing as the feathers on golden wings shift frantically.

Quackity can't help but move forward and bury his face in Karl's chest, probably the worst protection from what he feared possible. "Are you scared baby?", Karl trills wickedly, the tone sending obvious shivers down Quackity's spine.

"No, he's just presenting his back to me.", Sapnap stated proudly, quickly tickling into his back before he could react, skillfully finding the exact spot that drives his fiancé crazy every time. Karl clutched on for dear life as Quackity broke down into hysterics in his arms against his chest.

"Sapnap!", he cried out uselessly, his wings shaking as he squirmed between them, shrieking with laughter. "Please!", he croaked as he tried to twist away from Karl's grip.

Karl released him and Quackity pressed his tingling back against the couch again with a relieved gasp. The two playful boys cuddled into either side of him and he whined.

"Why are you two so evil today?", he huffed.

"You love it.", Sapnap accused, slithering his hand back under Quackity's shirt to draw more gasp-y laughter out of him.

"No I don't, shut up! Stop!!", he twisted with a squeal, Sapnap having squeezed his bare side.

"The squirmiest worm.", Karl coo'ed lovingly, burying his face into Quackity's neck and nuzzling in, grinning as he felt Quackity shake with giggles.

He was completely useless under all this stupid love and tickling. So sweet, but so mean. It melted every bad thought, really every thought, from his mind. His fiancés had taken their sweet time long ago finding every single spot on Quackity to draw whatever reaction they wanted from him. It was excruciating to be known so well.

"I'm getting you guys back later.", he murmured, shivering as he felt Karl's grin disappear and refocus on drawing other noises out of him, teasing with his tongue so softly on his neck it forced a small cry out of him. Sapnap let the words wash over him before joining the other, trying to ignore the feelings it spiked inside. Maybe he could make Quackity forget how they had stopped the sweet make-out session to torture him.

As teasy and mean as Karl and Sapnap could be, it was nothing compared to Quackity's wrath.

For now, Quackity relaxed and let the two try to make up for it all. Desperate lips trying to beg for forgiveness with kisses and soft praise. Forgiveness that wasn't granted...but they tried their best.

(Art is by @kazenomegaminowanpisu )

#wishitweresummer #tickle #mcyt tickle #dream smp tickle #quackity #karlnapity #karlnapity tickle #lee! quackity #lee!quackity #ler!sapnap #ler!karl #ler! karl jacobs #ler! karljacobs #ticklefics #tickle fic #quackity tickle

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guesswho873 · 2 years

Text

so i saw an animaton of this with some other characters, and i recreate it with sap and quackity...

(sorry it's kinda lazy...... 😅)

and i was kinda shy to post this, but fu*k it

#dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #lee!quackity #lersapnap #my animation #little #gwho?art

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emmadoodlewrites · 2 years

Text

Just Start Talking

WARNING: THIS IS AN INTENSE TICKLE FIC, INTERROGATION FIC, AND TICKLE MACHINE FIC! This will verrry likely not be for everyone. The lee in this fic while even though is being interrogated, is not in any distress, and is revealed to be having fun. Please be sure to read the content warnings before proceeding! This is very different than my other stuff, if you’d like to see my more playful fics you can check out my masterpost :D

I want to give a huge shout out to @fluffallamaful and @covenofwives for giving me little words of wisdom and the courage to post this! And I wanna give an even bigger shoutout to @mushiewrites for being the first person I ever got to give this idea to, the first one to ever read this fic, AND for brainrotting this entire idea with me for weeks so that this fic could be born. I LOVE YOU!!

Summary: c!Dream, even after escaping prison, finds himself in the hands of c!Sam and c!Quackity, as they try one last time to get him to give them the revive book. In order to do so, they use a brand new machine that Sam invented.

CWs: intense tickles, restraints, interrogation, c!dream, at a single point dream is unable to breathe but it is only for a small amount of time, swearing, slight disassociation

This takes place in a canon divergent timeline- cDream was not tortured as much as or as badly as he was in canon, after escaping prison he was allowed to stay away from the smp to live with cGeorge. With everything out of the way, without further ado, I hope you enjoy

3,669 words

Dream stirred slightly in his sleep, grogginess hitting him much harder than it usually does when he awakes in the morning. He shifted, attempting to rub his eyes sleepily before realizing he was unable to do so. He opened his eyes with a start. He was sitting, not laying down in his bed.

Behind him, attached to the back of the chair was a large machine, with two dormant mechanical arms attached. The end of both arms gave the appearance of futuristic ray guns, with bright red spheres attached to the edge.

“Oh what the hell,” Dream groaned, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room and seeing his two captors. He hadn’t seen Sam and Quackity since leaving the prison finally a couple months prior, “I thought you agreed to leave me alone Sam,” Dream said calmly.

“Yeah well change of plan,” Sam answered, “Quackity still needs information, and I had made him a promise. We won’t keep you captive, since that would be breaking my other promise to you, but we are going to need to get some info from you.”

Dream tensed, he couldn’t go through this. He was finally free, he was living on his own with George, he wanted nothing to do with the SMP anymore. He struggled against the restraints and began screaming.

“NO! Let me OUT! You can’t do this!!”

“Awww don’t worry Dream,” Quackity cooed, “I’ve learned from past mistakes that pain just doesn’t seem to work on you,” Dream stopped his struggle to look at his interrogator, “Yeah, don’t even sweat it. This won’t hurt a bit,” Q gave him an evil look, making Dream swallow to mask his fear.

The second the signal was given the mechanical arms lifted from their dormant state to point directly at Dream. They were even more terrifying as the end point of the ray gun like devices pointed on either side of his torso. He braced himself, expecting a new type of pain, tensing his muscles and clenching his jaw so he didn’t give the other two in the room any sort of gratification. He heard a slight humming from the ballpointed tips, and to his utter surprise, and slight dismay, it truly wasn’t pain that he suddenly felt. Quackity hadn't been lying.

It took a moment to process what was now happening, but his laughter came first. A very precise feeling of being tickled in the middle of both his sides made him jump suddenly, giggles escaping through his nose, and then pouring out passed his tightened lips, as he realized there was nowhere for him to go. It was unlike many other sensations he could even begin to describe, the warm and tingling sensation seeming to attack his nerves directly.

“Whahahahahat?!” Dream squirmed and shook his head slightly. He jolted suddenly, as best he could with the restraints, when the robotic arms began to move. Each going up and down in a predictable pattern. Down over the bottom of his sides a little above his hips, making him buck against his waist strap, and then would travel back up his sides and over his ribs all the way to the top bones. “Whahahahat thehehe hehehehell ihihihis thihihihis!?” Dream demanded, although it didn’t exactly sound very demanding through his laughter.

“Tell me where the book is, Dream” Was Quackity’s only response. Dream shook his head, refusing to give in. The arms continued their movement. Up and down and up and down, not missing a single area on either side. His torso moved side to side involuntarily as it tried to resist the feeling, even though it didn’t help at all.

Quackity looked over at Sam, and gave him a nod. Sam took a look at his monitor, taking in some of the info given to him before pressing another button. The arms stopped their movement, but the vibrating shockwaves continued. Dream tensed his body now that the tickles weren't moving, trying to drown out the sensation, but nothing was working. The arms moved again suddenly, positioning themselves over two different areas on his sides. On his right, the machine seemed to focus over his top rib. On the other side it pointed directly in the middle of his left side.

Dream flinched as the arms took their position, the reaction making it apparent that these two spots were much more sensitive than anywhere else. The tickles engulfed the nerves there making it impossible for him to sit still or even focus on anything else.

The machine moved again, but this time neither up or down, but towards him. And then both ends touched down. One pushing into his top rib, and the other poking him in the side. The once semi tolerable tickling was now so much worse. An intense ticklishness shot straight into his most sensitive nerves, and Dream screamed.

He arched his back in a desperate manner before he landed back down with his back hitting the back of the chair. He pushed his shoes into the ground, kicking over and over.

The feeling was overwhelming and intense. It felt nothing like when someone were to drill into your worst spot, and more like it was tickling him from the inside out. The feeling sparked like fireworks, never slowing down or faltering, and there was no way to get used to it.

Dream pulled at his arms, trying to slide down to at least make the arms aim somewhere, anywhere else, but they stayed glued to the areas that made him laugh the hardest. His cackles no longer contained screams, but had turned to continuous loud belly laughs that came from deep in his chest. His mouth was open wide with a smile and his eyes were now permanently squeezed shut. His thrashing continued until he melted back into the chair, head thrown back in his mirth.

He was completely lost to the feeling until he felt someone grab his face, grounding him slightly from the fuzziness that was starting to fill his head.

"Are you ready to talk yet?"

Dream opened his watering eyes to meet Quackity’s. The duck hybrid’s hand had a good hold of Dream’s chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact. Dream could barely hear him though, his laughter being too loud, and there was a slight ringing in his ears.

"LEHEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHOHAHA!" He continued to laugh and weakly tried to turn his neck away from his grasp. Quackity groaned and let go of Dream’s face and gave Sam a look. The tickling only went on for a few more seconds before it finally stopped.

Dream took in a shaky breath of air to catch his breath, and let out a giggly sigh of relief. He slumped down, wishing more than anything to rub away the ghost tickles that still lingered along his ribs and sides. Any time he moved though, the two arms still pressed into his torso made him jump.

He was dazed, and he still hadn't completely caught his breath, but Dream tried his best to speak, "Whahahat is thihis tehechnology? Hohow did yohohou mahake thihis?" He managed to get out, even after all of this, curiosity got the best of him. What type of foriegn science was this?

"You aren’t asking the questions here!" In response Sam quickly turned the device on and back off again, only lasting for a second. Dream screeched and yanked on his restraints, and then bent over as he faced the floor and giggled.

"Ihihi've told you behefore! Thehere is no physical cohopy of the boohok anymore."

"Well then you better start reciting it to me!"

Dream only shook his head at that, sitting back up straight. He looked Q in the eyes again. They were already tired but determined. Quackity huffed through his nose in annoyance and gave Sam the signal again, not breaking eye contact

Dream broke eye contact first, becoming distracted as the same pulsating ticklish energy shot straight into his nerves again and this time not stopping.

There was no build up unlike the first time since the two arms were already pushed against his body. With the feeling going from zero to one hundred, his entire body tensed, not sure how to even process the sudden extreme sensations. At first there was silence, all except a deep gasp coming from Dream. And then a scream. His back arched again, this time staying in that position as his scream went back into silence.

Dream could feel his mind blanking, the tickling coursing through him felt as though millions of lightning strikes were toying with every single one of his nerve endings directly, and it plunged him into silent laughter.

His lungs burned as they spasmed through the motions of laughter without any air. He couldn’t even notice his lack of air until he felt his vision begin to darken. The machine stopped again, and the robotic arms finally moved away from him. Dream noticed immediately this time, and he took in a huge gulp of air, as he relaxed in euphoric relief. He coughed, letting out the cackles that couldn't come out before.

"Just breathe Dream," he could barely comprehend Sam's voice from across the room; Q was giving Sam a disappointed look in response to Dream getting another break so soon, "we can't have you dying on us,"

"Why mehehehehehe," Dream tugged weakly at his restraints. His brain was starting to feel rather cloudy, he couldn't tell if it was because of exhaustion or the still ghostly buzzing on his skin.

"You know how to make this stop Dream. Start talking." Q demanded, and Dream flinched and giggled.

"Fuhuck you!" His smile was more giddy than defiant at this point.

"Fine. That's how you wanna do this? Sam turn it back on!"

"No no noho nohohoho hahahahaha-" The machine whirred to life, starting back at stage one. Dream jerked and squirmed as the end effector left a trail of tickles up and down, never letting him get used to it again. To make matters worse it seems over time Dream has only managed to get more sensitive, this beginning phase feeling more ticklish than the first time.

"Plehehehehease I cahahahan't tahahahake ihihit!!" He was dreading what was coming, knowing at any second the arms would make contact with him again. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle it. He bucked against the waist strap in strained anticipation. It was too much.

Finally he felt the arms stop their movement. This time around they had chosen different spots. One of them was now aiming towards his lower side, right above his hip, and the other one positioned itself to point towards the top of his side. Dream began pleading again through his laughter, but it fell on deaf ears. The arms began moving inwards, and Dream made one final weak pull at his restraints before they touched down.

“FFFFUHUHUHUHUCK!!!” Dream screamed out a hoarse shrieking cackle as he arched his back once again for what felt like the fiftieth time against the feeling. The arm aiming for his upper hip ended up digging more into the back of his side than the first time around, creating the most mind numbing sensation Dream had ever felt. And Dream’s head was certainly starting to go numb. There was nothing else he was willing to focus on. There was nothing else he could focus on.

The electric like buzzing felt as though it was coming from deep within his nervous system, expertly manipulating and focusing on his weakest points to make him scream. He wanted to crawl out of his own skin just to escape the onslaught of tickles he didn’t know was possible to perceive. His mind was buzzing as much as his skin was, he was trapped in his own head, where the only thing he was allowed to notice and focus on was the red hot tickling shockwaves that at this point felt as though were penetrating his very being. No words were forming in his brain anymore, but if his thoughts could be translated to a sensical stream of consciousness, all it would be is ‘it tickles it tickles it tickles this tickles it tickles’

Dream wasn’t fighting anymore. Being zapped of all his energy, he now sat limp in the chair, body spasming every once in a while as it was wracked with another wave of agony against the never ending feeling. His eyes were no longer squeezed tight and they looked lost in a daze as he laughed hysterically, looking at nothing. His hands kept flexing open and closed, though he wasn’t aware he was doing it. He was lost completely to hysteria, and it was at this point something shifted.

The tickling was constant and extreme, beyond anything Dream was able to wrap his head around, and as it continued to course through him, leaving him feeling like a puddle of nerves, he felt himself buck a little bit more. But it wasn’t against the restraints anymore, it was into the feeling itself. It was so tortuous, so agonizing and nothing would stop its torment against his body. Yet every pulse of sparkling jabs against his nerves was beginning to make his head spin with pure bliss.

He wasn’t cognizant enough to realize what was happening, but now, contrary to a earlier, he couldn’t get enough of this torturous onslought against his own limp form.

‘It tickles it tickles it tickles so so much’ and now he didn’t want it to stop.

But eventually it did stop, although it took a good 3 minutes for Dream to notice. He could still feel everything. His entire body, not even just the spots the machine was targeting, felt as though it was aflame in ghost like tickles that made him turn to putty. He continued his loud laughter until finally it died down on its own.

Dream however was still a mess. His face was blushed deep red, both from the situation and the physical excretion. He was breathless, but his face seemed so lost in the leftover tingles, basking in the now wonderful feeling. His muscles were all relaxed, twitching every once in a while when he felt air brush against his overly sensitive skin.

It took him a good while to remember where he was, but Sam and Quackity seemed patient. When he was back in the present, his nerves still feeling as though they are on fire, he spoke, “Ahare yahoo guhuys dohone yehet?”

“No we’re not done you! We haven’t gotten anywhere!” Quackity genuinely thought by this point Dream would have caved. He seemed to have much more mental strength than Q would have given him credit for.

“Yohohour not gonna gehet ahanything from mehe. Juhust lehet me goho,” Dream begged, and Quackity was not happy with this response. He stalked towards Dream as he sat helpless in the device, but this time he didn’t flinch.

“Give me the book Dream, or else!”

“Ihi ahalready told you I dohon’t have it.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Whahat else are you gohonna do? Ihisn’t this torture enoguh?” Dream lazily cocked his head to the side as it rested against his shoulder and gave Q a dazed smile.

In anger, Quackity grabbed the machine’s arms, swinging them to the front of the chair. He then grabbed at the hem of Dream’s shirt, who then burst into laughter just at the feeling of someone touching him. He continued to laugh as Q dragged his shirt all the way up his torso, revealing Dream’s quivering tummy and bare sides.

“Alright Dream, this is your last fucking chance,” Quackity manuvered the two arms again, making them aim right at the skin of Dream’s bare stomach. His breath hitched as he realized what was about to happen, “Agree to recite the fucking book to me, right fucking now, or I will make you lose your fucking mind,” this was a threat Dream did not take lightly. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

There was no way he could share the book with Quackity, it would surely lead to his own death. And on the other hand, way deep down, a small part of him felt almost…giddy? Why did he want this? The idea of the machine’s torturous and precise shockwavse being sent directly into his stomach, on his skin, sounded wonderfully torturous.

He didn’t have to imagine it any longer as the machine buzzed and turned on. The arms weren’t touching his skin directly yet, but they were still aimed perfectly to shoot its vibrations straight at his belly. Dream threw his head back and squealed, tucking in his stomach at the wondrous feeling. This was much different than before, the shockwaves hitting bare skin seemed to create even more of a spark that pricked every nerve at once, creating an explosion of tickles all over the area. Dream dug his feet into the ground again as he realized just how agonizing this was and the device wasn’t even physically touching him.

“You know what’s about to happen, Dream. Tell me now, and all of this can be over.” Dream was no longer even acknowledging Q anymore, his head was too fuzzy, and it felt like he was floating. Quackity did not like being ignored, “You fucking asked for this,” was the last thing he said before pushing both arms right onto Dream’s stomach. One touching down at the top of his stomach right below his sternum, and the other one burrowing itself right onto his belly button.

Before Dream could even think, or even begin to comprehend this sudden eruption of extreme tickling now flowing through his middle, he felt his entire body jerk upright almost as if he’d been electrocuted. A raw screech tore through Dream’s throat as he pushed himself desperately against the back of his chair to get away. There was no way to tell if he was laughing or screaming, or perhaps both at the same time.

Wave after wave of firework like bursts of ticklish energy was shot through his entire stomach, and his head was reeling in a bliss like daze he’d never felt before. The sensations made him feel lost, like he was somehow outside his body yet engulfed in nothing but warmth. As he arched his back, thrusting his belly into the mind numbing tickles, he felt shiver after shiver run down his spine. He melted completely, there was nothing else that mattered. He could only know what he was feeling right now, and how much he just couldn’t get enough of it. It tore apart his nervous system in the most perfect way. He was buried in complete hysteria and he never wanted to go back

It wouldn’t stop. How long had it even been?

It tickles.

Dream couldn’t tell if he was even still laughing, not even aware of his physical position. Was he still sitting, or was he flying? Was he falling?

It tickles so much.

The ringing in his ears, and the sound of his own beating pulse was a perfect lull to the mush of his brain. He simultaneously tried to move towards and away from the swirl of feeling teasing his nerves perfectly.

It tickles it tickles it tickles it

He couldn’t see, or at least he couldn’t focus on anything. It was a blur of shapes and colors.

Everything tickled. It tickles more than words could describe, it was the only thing in the world that made sense.

When he felt someone grab his hair, he realized that the machine had actually stopped. So why did his nerves still feel like they were tingling with tickles just as intense as before. He couldn’t stop giggling. He was still floating, unconsciousness was dancing in the corners of his mind. There are people talking. Everything is still buzzing. Dream closed his eyes again to bask in its hold. A warmth of tickles could be felt everywhere, all over him. Somehow Dream was content.

When Dream opened his eyes again he was laying down, know longer strapped in his sitting position. He was in a grassy field. The events of before came back full force and he turned over to wrap his arms around himself, wincing as his muscles ached. The amount of tensing he had done taking a number on his strength. His abs hurt the most from the sheer force of his laughter.

He sat up while gritting his teeth, still slightly dizzy. He heard his name being called and he flinched and turned to its direction, regretting it as another dull ache tore through his muscles. It was George.

“Oh my god, Dream? Where have you been!? You disappeared the entirety of yesterday. I was terrified!” It took Dream a moment to comprehend his words, and then he thought back to the day before. He was fine now, and it seemed as promised Sam and Quackity let him go free. And the last thing he wanted was for George to worry.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I decided to go running yesterday and got a bit too much into it. I didn’t realize how much time had passed until the sun started to rise haha!” Dream created a quick lie, not the best one, but it would give him an excuse for being sore.

George didn’t buy it, and Dream knew that, but he didn’t pry, “Well come back to the cottage, I had made soup for you before you didn’t come home.” All Dream could still think about was everything he’d just gone through. The insane tickling, that he never knew was possible, the feeling of absolute bliss, and the almost out of body experience it had led him too. He wanted to do it again. Why did he actually want to do it again?

He took George’s hand and helped himself up, pushing those thoughts back into his head. Now he was with George. Nothing else needed to matter. Right?

--------------------

tag list: @twordishl @starlightrosa

#lee!dream #ler!quackity #ler!sam #mcyt tickle #emmadoodle fics #emmadoodle machines

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rxsahgrce · 1 year

Text

Some Really cute concepts I came up with

This is only dsmp :)

Wilbur and Tommy

Tommy and Wilbur having a "fight" but it always ends in Tommy being absolutely wrecked

"Tommy, did you take my water?!" Wilbur shouted from across the kitchen so Tommy would hear him

"No!" Tommy shouted back, which was clearly a lie. He took Wilbur's water so he could have his sandwich without getting thirsty.

Wilbur rolled his eyes and walked upstairs, Tommy was clearly lying and he knew it.

"Tommy! That was like the only bottle of water I could have while streaming!" Wilbur shouted

"Well you shouldn't of left it out, you dumb fuck!" Tommy said, which caused Wilbur to begin to walk towards him.

"Oh, come here you little-" Wilbur was saying, but cut himself off as he started squeezing Tommy's sides, making the boy birtst into bright cackles.

Sapnap and Karl

Sapnap ignoring Karl as a joke but it ends in him getting tickled.

"Sapnap?" Karl asked, walking through the house to see Sapnap sat on the couch.

He walked over to him, sitting next to him and resting his head on his shoulder.

Sapnap didn't look away from his phone, instead paying more attention to it if that were possible.

Karl scrunched his face in confusion as Sapnap didn't hug back or lean into it, or anything.

"Sapnap?" He asked.

After getting no response he rolled his eyes. He knew what Sapnap was doing and exactly how to get him out of it.

He suddenly digged into his sides after a few seconds immediately getting a response and an apology when he tried to work his way up to Sapnap's armpits.

Quackity and Wilbur

Quackity annoying Wilbur, after getting no response he tickles him instead.

Quackity walked over to where Wilbur was standing, due to the height difference, Quackity wasn't able to annoy Wilbur in the way he wanted to but he could easily start elbowing Wilbur in the ribs.

"Fuck off, Quackity!"

Quackity tried dragging Wilbur by his hands, pushing him, elbowing him more and after getting no response he finally decided to just attack Wilbur's stomach with his fingers, earning a scream full of panicked and unexpected laughter and the taller man leaning over.

#rxsahgrce #sfw tickle blog #mcyt tickle #rosahgracei #lee!tommy #lee!wilbur #ler!karl #lee!tommyinnit #lee!sapnap #ler!quackity

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fluffallamaful · 1 year

Note

WARNING: VERY INTENSE TICKLES AHEAD

Being tickled by one person is bad enough. Being tickled by two is horrible. Being tickled by four? Now that’s just unfair.

Dream’s setup actually has to change a little bit to account for this. It’s a different sort of table this time around: one specifically fit for him, stretching each of his limbs taut. His arms above his head, his legs out to either side — and each joint is fastened down with a belt-like restraint both above and below it, making it impossible for him to move anything more than a couple millimeters, if that. Finally, a little foam gag is slid into his mouth for him to bite down on. It’s soft enough to rest comfortably inside but firm enough that he can’t quite get his teeth to click against each other through the material. Quackity tells him — truthfully — that it’s a safety precaution to keep him from chipping his teeth against one another or biting his tongue off during his punishment. His blood turns to ice at the implications of that.

And then, of course, they get started.

Sam focuses on his belly. He uses that special little circular suction cup brush for the naval this time. Dream HATES that thing: Quackity always uses it for punishments nowadays, because of just how badly it tickles. The man’s always shocked by how violently Dream responds to it: he can’t see pretty much anything regarding what it’s actually doing, so it’s really funny to watch him thrash around like a dying fish because of such an innocuous looking thing sitting so innocently on his tummy. Normally he doesn’t use it for more than a couple minutes. This isn’t normally. They turn it on, slip it in, and then forget about it for a while. Because leaving it in like this leaves Sam free to experiment with the REST of his tummy.

He leans over to bury his mouth into the skin, blowing raspberry after raspberry before proceeding to nibbles and then to rough grooming licks, each worse than the last. And Dream can’t do anything about it because of the stupid pillow under his abdomen. His tummy is all stretched out and taught and refusing to move. He can’t even suck it in. And Sam is taking full advantage of it, and why is he GOOD at this it’s not FAIR —

Sam’s nose nudges into the suction cup. Dream screeches through his gag.

Sam finally takes off the little tickly suction cup a few minutes later, but just as he’s collapsing in relief he feels Sam’s rough tongue scratching all around his naval instead, and it’s HORRIBLE. He sobs loudly, trying to squirm away. This is one of the worst things he’s ever felt. Sam doesn’t even seem to notice, wrapping his arms around his waist and burrowing into his bellybutton to groom it thoroughly. He blows a couple of harsh, firm raspberries occasionally, whenever his tongue needs a break. He’s unfairly good at it. (Sam’s always used tools before. Dream had no idea that being tickled by him normally would be even WORSE.)

Ant goes for his feet, using a little electric toothbrush to dig into the places that get him crying. He runs it over his big toe, under his fourth, against the arch and even back up between the digits. Dream’s ankles are strapped down tight, too, so he can’t kick at all, and a particularly nasty flash of inspiration has Ant tying a bit of twine around his big toe to pull it back, anchoring it to his manacles and preventing him from curling his toes to protect the sensitive skin beneath. He even teases him about how he’s only restrained his big toe: he could curl the others if he wants! (He can’t.) He experiments with different tools. He can’t decide between the quill and the electric brush. He tries to ask Dream which one’s worse, but you know. The gag. He decides to just use them both, letting them alternate between the undersides of his toes and the rest of his soles: best of both worlds that way.

Bad focuses on his legs. He squeezes around his kneecap, and runs his long claws down the muscle in his thighs and calves to make the whole thing shudder. His tail traces all around his hip bones and lower tummy, agonizingly light and slow as it circles over and over and over again. Bad’s not even really paying attention to it, but it’s so, so bad — especially with how it contrasts with the suction cup. On a whim he decides to target his inner thighs, experimentally pressing into the crevice there and realizing that if he presses his thumb into the muscle just right he can get this weird noise he’s never heard before, even through Dream’s gag. The others notice too and start asking Bad to keep doing it and see what happens. He finds that if he squeezes the whole thigh — with at least one finger pressing into that spot — he can get this weird spasming effect. It’s fun!

Quackity leans over him from just behind his head. He drills into his exposed armpits with both hands, using two fingers each to gently massage horrible circles around and around and around — eventually even switching to circling with his nails, which are even worse. He knuckles his ribs, roughly dragging his fist over either side of his ribcage to make him jolt and squirm like a worm on a hook. He scritches lightly on either side of his neck and watches his head try and fail to thrash. He uses his wings to reach over and lightly dust all over his sensitive torso. He even lets the feathers trail down to his tummy sometimes. The worst part about him, though, is that he TEASES. He asks him questions, threatening him with worse tickles if he doesn’t answer them — which he can’t, since there’s a gag in the way — and then uses the resulting silence as an excuse to nibble his neck while murmuring about how it’s his own fault. He coos about how helpless he is and how he can’t do anything about his current situation, aww, it must be so baaaad. And everyone knows how yummy his tummy is! How long has that cup been sitting there now? Are those inner brushes circling clockwise or counterclockwise, anyway? Owww, did Bad just find a new spot that’s making him cry like a baby? Does that tickle badly? Hm? Too bad he can’t move, huh? Because Quackity doesn’t think Bad’s gonna stop tormenting that spot for a while. He’d better get used to it. Isn’t this fun?

Sometimes they chat as they play. Ant and Bad have a conversation about their upcoming shifts as they torture his legs. Ant momentarily stops arguing about why he should get Monday off to suggest that Bad slide an electric toothbrush under his trapped leg to press against the back of his knee. Bad pauses his lecture about the importance of a good work ethic to ask Ant if he can feel a change in the muscles of his foot when he scratches like THIS. Sam argues with both of them even as he suggests new things he’s come up with since their last visits, passing over new and interesting tools for them to play with. Quackity watches them chat like it’s a ping pong match even as he presses a taser into Dream’s left armpit, letting wave after wave of tickly shocks torment the taut skin without pause. There’s a quill in his other hand. It’s circling the prisoner’s other pit.

Sam asks Bad if he’s ever nibbled Dream’s tummy before. Bad says no, and Sam starts explaining how to do it best. Dream is squeaking, trying to plead for Bad not to use his enormous fangs on his poor little tummy because he’s already catching on to how badly that would tickle, but nobody pays him any mind at all. Bad pretends that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, that it’s his first time giving someone mouth tickles. It is not. It is CLEARLY not. He might even be worse than Sam. Bad’s mean enough to target his bellybutton, too, whenever he gets the inkling. It’s not fair that all of its torture made it MORE sensitive, it’s not!

Quackity offers Ant some baby oil. It’s not ticklish itself — feeling the duck hybrid rub the cool substance into his feet is actually really soothing, especially when he’s feeling so warm from the exertion — but then when Ant starts scratching again it feels like he’s exposed a live wire. It’s so much worse — he had no idea it could be this much worse! Ant laughs at his faint little twitches, and rubs some more right under his toes. The anticipation is almost worse than the actual tickling that follows. Almost.

The whole time, poor Dream is squealing into his gag. Tears are running down his cheeks, he’s trying desperately to thrash in his restraints — all is futile. No mercy. The prison staff are practically treating him like a squeaky toy: just a little thing to be tormented for their entertainment. He can’t do anything about it. Any one of these tactics would be enough to break him on their own, but all at once? Oof. He can’t even really make much noise through his gag, and while it was intended as a mercy to make sure that he didn’t hurt himself it ends up having the unintended side effect of prompting the four guards to go much further than usual in an attempt to get a reaction. (In other words, on top of being so much meaner than usual, all of this continues for the full three hours.)

Poor baby is an absolute mess by the time the timer runs out, the alarm finally sounding through the cell. His chest is heaving, his hands are limp against the table, his eyes are cloudy and dazed. His muscles started spasming at some point and now he’s just shivering uncontrollably. His skin is red all over, too — especially his belly. He doesn’t react at all when the restraints are released, unable to so much as lift a finger. Quackity takes out his gag and sees that he almost bit clean through the foam.

Sam picks him up, and at first Dream starts weakly attempting to babble about how he can’t TAKE anymore PLEASE — but instead of tickles, he’s greeted with the hybrid snuggling him into his soft fluff and settling down on the floor, taking the time to lick and groom his hair just the way he knows he likes it. Quackity had been planning to give him some well-deserved tummy kisses after his ordeal, but as soon as he announces his intentions Dream starts weakly begging him to not do it, please, he’s gonna die. He pouts about it (“I thought you LIKED my tummy kisses!”) but doesn’t push further.

Dream falls asleep quickly after that. Neither Big Q nor anyone else has the heart to wake him up, so they decide to just settle him in his bed and tuck him in, nice and snug. Bad probably stays a few minutes to nuzzle his cheeks, murmuring about how he’s such a stupid little muffin but they love him anyways. He gives him a few kisses before he leaves him to rest.

part 1 — context

mmmmmmm 🫠 you truly did go bonkers with this one what in the worrllddddddd 😭 3 houurrsssss?!??) a foam gag?? 😭😭 my celery mannnnnnnn 😩

(discussion belowwww):

🦙🦙🦙…

ok so my god the detail that you’ve gone into for each of these 😵‍💫 and we’ve got all the heckin special soup tools on the go as well.

this little suction thing is so cute. i love that he can’t stand them. that’s adorable. such a targeted little thing that is conveniently extremely easy for the ler to forget about, and yet unpredictable enough to always be on the lees mind. the fact that his position would make it difficult to see as well 🫠 and that he can’t suck in his stomach, and that sam is going nuts on the rest of his tummy. so his bad. so is quack.

the raspberries and nibbles 🥺 the relief that quickly turns to panic when sam replaces the lil suction thingy with his tongue 😅 (still feckin hate that word why is it so grossssss). i love that quackity is also just teasing him about everything sam’s doing the whole time. like just not letting him zone out or forget about any of the feelings at all

ant on his feet 😖 with the tieeeeeeee and baby oil wtffffff 😭 they’re just going nuts on himmmmmm. the fact that he gets each spot and toe as well. and the damn toothbrushes and aH. the fact that bbh and ant are just having cruel fun with it all. they’re talking like he’s not there and feigning disinterest,, until of course one of them hits a spot that makes dream squawk in his gag. i’m thinking baby oil on the thighs and lower tum too right? especially with bad’s nails 👌🏼 + it also protects his skin and look i gotta make sure my precious soppy cat man’s skin is safe.

i love the idea of quackity asking dream what he thinks of bad and ant’s work drama. like getting him to participate in the nonchalant conversation . but tickling him when he doesn’t answer quackity’s questions. (NECK NIBBLEABABZYHXHSS. such a flustery thing for someone to do when they’ve just been whispering teases into your eeeeaaaarrrr)

the feckin taser thing in the armpits again im going to throw it on dream’s behalf ffsjajxucus. and the fact that quackity can tease him about not being able to prepare for it as well??? the way he can use it so easily. like just tapping it on his armpit every now and then throughout his teasing. perhaps he also teases him with a countdown or two,, just purposely hyping him up for it

the armpit scratches and the rib knuckling 😵‍💫 idk knuckles seem to just be made to fit in between peoples’ ribs,, like it just makes sense. something about bone on bone as well :,) also baby oil to the armpits and ribs makes sense? like sure his skin is red and slippy and so tickly by the end of the 3 hours,,but it’s also soooo sofffttt and smoottttbhh

the aftermath here is cute. but i’m going to make it cuter 👌🏼🤌🏼:

first off he needs a bowl of soup and so much water immediately after he’s been lifted off his restraints. the foam gag would feel gross lmao. the feeling needs to be abolished

he also needs to be held so closely to sam. specifically, his tired tummy needs to be buried safely into his tummy fluff. ciz i just think that would feel amazing

he needs slippers. this one is a threat. he needs fluffy slippers or else.

he needs his limp hands held and floppy fingers played with

he needs a back rub and back kisses (only enough to make him melt and smile, not giggle though. he’s too tireddddd)

he needs a cookie

he needs to be reassured that there is room for him in this world, and that a reset isn’t necessary

he needs a blanket, and to receive forehead kiss goodnight from everyone

he needs everything mentioned to be still occurring/available when he wakes up as well 👍🏼

🦙🦙🦙…

#llama asks #soup the destroyer #Soups Tickle Therapy AU (Q Ed)#lee!dream #ler!quackity #ler!awesamdude #ler!badboyhalo #ler!antfrost

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