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ticklishraspberries · 6 months

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Tell Him (George O'Malley x Reader)

Summary: You’re dating George O’Malley. You tell him about a certain liking of yours, and although he’s initially confused, he tries to understand. (This is incredibly self-indulgent and the reader is essentially just me. If anyone actually reads this, it’ll be a miracle, lmfao. Mentions of sex and tickling as a kink, but overall this fic is more fluff than smut.)

“I can’t.”

George sighed, but he had an amused expression on his face. “Whatever you’re gonna tell me, I won’t freak out. You know that, right?”

You blushed, avoiding his eyes. “It’s embarrassing. It’s not bad, but it's embarrassing.”

He took your chin, making you meet his eye. “Well, I’m not gonna pressure you. Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. Go save some lives, Dr. O’Malley.”

He kissed you quickly before heading out, and you sighed, resting your head in your hands. It was silly, really, and you were getting him worked up over nothing. If only your embarrassment, your shame didn’t run so deep, if only you had the guts to spit out a simple confession.

And it was over something so stupid.

Cuddling in bed with George last night had been nice. He was warm, and groggy after a day of interning at the hospital, but present enough to rub your back sweetly, muttering sweet words. And then his fingers had strayed near your side, soft and it had startled you and made you twitch.

“You alright?” he asked.

You had nodded. “All good.”

And then, he’d done it again. By accident, still. And you had twitched again, a puff of air resembling a soft laugh leaving your nose.

“Oh, I’m sorry, am I tickling you?” he’d asked.

You chuckled nervously. “A little.”

“Sorry,” he said again.

“It’s fine.”

And that had been it. What you hadn’t said was that it was completely fine if he tickled you, and that it would be fine to continue, because you enjoyed it.

You just couldn’t spit that out. And George deserved to know, because he would clearly do anything in his power to make you happy, and yet, you were afraid that something as simple as a little tickling would be the thing to scare him off.

His shift was long. Long enough for you to think it over. To plan out everything you would want to say, to prepare for a worst-case scenario. It wouldn’t be so bad. George was sweet. He was an angel, honestly, and the chances of him reacting poorly were slim to none. But that fear still lingered. The fear of rejection, ridicule, or just plain old misunderstanding.

But George would understand. He had to.

So after a long, long shift, George was back in your bed. Warm, sleepy, and hopefully ready to listen to your words.

“You ready to tell me what you wanted to say this morning?” he asked.

“Yes. No. Maybe?” you replied. “It’s…I really need to stress to you that it’s not a big deal. It really isn’t, but I’m embarrassed and this is really hard for me to talk about.”

He pulled you close. “I’m here to listen. What’s going on?”

“So, last night…You were rubbing my back, and you…Well, you…”

“Is this about me tickling you?” he interrupted. “Because it was an accident, and I won’t do it—”

“No, no, that’s…I wanna tell you that it’s okay. That I…I liked it. I mean, I would like it if you did it…Intentionally, next time.”

George blinked at you, mouth opening and closing. “I’m sorry…You liked it?”

There it was. The twinge of judgement in his voice. It made you deflate, cheeks turning red.

He sensed the shift in your attitude and immediately shook his head. “No, no, it’s not a bad thing. I’m just…Surprised, that’s all! Because, well, my brothers used to tickle me all the time and I always hated it. I mean, they were rough, and it hurt, and they used to make me cry…So, I mean, the idea of someone liking it is just sort of weird to me. Not weird in a bad way, God, that came out wrong…Weird as in uncommon—”

“No, it’s okay, I get it,” you said. “I’m sorry your brothers did that to you. But, it’s just…I’ve always liked it, and I can’t help it, it’s just wired into my brain for some reason, and it’s embarrassing and I’ve had partners react badly to it in the past, so if you’re weirded out, it’s fine, I just…I wanted to tell you because it makes me happy, and you make me happy.”

George smiled. “Okay. If you like it, that’s fine. I can…I can do it, more, if that makes you happy. Is it…Is it like, a sex thing or a cuddly thing?”

You gave another nervous laugh. “Both? It’s not inherently sexual, but it can be hot. We can talk about the sex part later, though. This is all too embarrassing for me.”

George laughed, too. “Don’t be embarrassed, it’s fine,” he said, kissing your temple. “We can talk about it another time.”

You assumed that was the end of the conversation, but his hands found your sides and squeezed, making you squeal.

“So, you like this?” he asked. “Or do you like it better…here?” His hands moved upwards towards your ribs, his fingers prodding into the spaces between your bones with his surgical precision. It only made you giggle harder, feet kicking.

“You’re giggling too hard to answer me, baby,” he cooed.

“Shut up,” you whined. “You’re being mean!”

“How am I being mean? I’m doing what you asked! I think that’s pretty nice of me, actually.”

You had nothing to say in response, just laughing. You were so happy. So loved.

That night, you fell asleep wrapped in George’s arms, the phantom sensation of his tickly fingers still on your abdomen.

***

“Tickling you is really fun,” George said. “I mean, it’s cute. You smile and you laugh and it’s adorable, and I know it makes you happy.”

You flushed, biting your lip. “But…?”

“No, no but. Well, maybe? I think…If you did it to me, I don’t know if I would hate it or not, but…I know you’ve mentioned that you like it either way…If you wanted to try, I mean, I’d be open to it.”

He was blushing, too. How fucking cute could he be?

“Really?” you asked. “I mean, if you’re open to it, I would love to try. Only if you’re sure, though. I know your brothers were pretty harsh, so I don’t wanna push.”

“No, I’m…I want you to try it. You always look like you’re having so much fun. And, it might take my mind off of the three surgeries I scrubbed in on today.”

You grinned. “It is a pretty good distraction.”

He laid back against the mattress, looking up at you with those doe eyes. You grinned, sitting up beside his body and using one hand to stroke his hair. “Where should I start, hm?”

George squirmed. “Well, when I was younger, my stomach was really bad. And, and my sides. But I’m pretty much ticklish everywhere, as you’ve discovered during other activities, which, if I had known you liked it, I wouldn’t have apologized so many times when I laughed—”

You interrupted his rambling by using one hand to lightly tickle his stomach, feeling his muscles jump beneath your fingertips, listening to the loud, squeaky laugh that burst from his lips.

“Still bad?” you asked.

“Still ticklish, but it doesn’t suck,” he giggled in response. He was clearly fighting to keep still, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You grinned. “You’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute,” he cried. “I’m a strong, masculine—Ah!”

His laughter took on a new octave as you introduced your other hand to his belly.

“Too much?”

He shook his head. Then, after another minute, he shook it again. “Wait, no, actually, too much!”

You stopped immediately. “Are you okay?”

George wrapped his arms around his middle, protecting his middle although your onslaught had already stopped. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just…still a lot.”

“No worries. I know, it can be really overwhelming sometimes.”

He smiled. “A little. But I didn’t hate it,” he said. “We can try it again, another time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, of course. For now, cuddle me.”

And, well, how could you say no to that?

#george o'malley x reader #george o'malley fluff #george o'malley fic #george o'malley imagine #grey's anatomy ticklefic #grey's anatomy tickle fic #grey's anatomy #greys anatomy tickle fic #greys anatomy ticklefic #greys anatomy #george omalley fic #george omalley #tickle fic #ticklefic #raspberry writes

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becca-e-barnes · 10 months

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I’m literally drooling over the thought of sensitive Bucky whimpering and whining while fucking your tits and thighs he’s so pathetic and needy all he wants is to make you feel good and to fill you with his cum even if it overstimulates him

Okay, tit fucking is great and all but thigh fucking is SO underrated in my humble opinion. Could just be the fact I've got a small chest though lmao

It's so fun when you're already really into it and the insides of your thighs are all slick. I feel like Bucky would lose it, getting to see your face and look in your eyes and enjoy your body.

It's a nice one to do while laid on your side, facing each other. Although the angle isn't quite right for him to slip inside you, it's fun to explore the other ways your bodies can steal pleasure from one another.

"This isn't going to work, sweetheart." You can't help but laugh, having already tried everything you can think of to make the height difference work. There's no way to keep this romantic and intimate in that position because there's just no chance of aligning your bodies properly to allow him to press inside you.

"Maybe not. But it feels nice anyway." His eyes flutter shut, gliding his dick over the smooth, soft, warm insides of your thighs, encouraged by how slick and easy your arousal makes the movement.

You adjust yourself to bring your other thigh on top of his length, closing him in on both sides.

You're wet enough that friction doesn't impede his movement too much and there's something oddly romantic about it. Maybe it's his hand smoothing the back of your head or his other hand up your back, pulling your body closer to his.

It's so intimate, watching his face as he whines your name, rutting senselessly against your thighs. The little flush to his cheeks is beautiful and you can't resist kissing the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The thick duvet on top of you both, coupled with your combined body heat means the room is far hotter than you'd planned.

You take a second to reach between your bodies, spreading your wet folds and readjusting his length, letting him drag his cock against your neglected clit with each stroke and oh, that's pretty mind-blowing.

"O-oh my God." He whines, desperately fucking himself against your wet cunt, rather than into it. It's a different kind of pleasure to being inside you and while they're not comparable sensations, it doesn't stop this from feeling fantastic.

"Fuck, that's good." You groan, rolling your hips to meet his. Your fingers dip between you once more, gathering some of your slick arousal, using it to glide your fingertips over the underside of his shaft and over his balls.

"Holy shit, that's - fuck." Bucky's hardly got a coherent thought left in his head. He's closed in on both sides by your wet, soft thighs and now your fingers are giving him a different sensation underneath while pressing him against your soaked sex.

"I know, baby. Feels good, doesn't it?" Your fingertips trail lightly back and forth over the underside of his shaft, focusing on the inch or so beneath the tip.

"I can't... I need to cum." He groans, thrusting frantically, clinging to your body to keep you close. Within a few seconds, you feel his dick pulse under your fingertips, his cum coating the inside of your thighs in hot, thick, messy spurts.

He doesn't waste a second, kissing your forehead before kissing your neck and whispering "Good girl. Now let me watch you get yourself off with my cum on your fingertips."

#asks answered <3 #becca writes spice #anon #needy!bucky #Bucky Barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes smut #sub!bucky #was this one something I've been fortunate enough to try? Absolutely.#and has it bounced around in my head ever since?? yep #I've got so many 💦sports asks #and I've been really hesitant to answer them bc I have people I know irl on here now #but honestly if my interests so far haven't freaked you out #those probably won't either #I made the best overnight oats last night I've been thinking about them all day #white chocolate chunks with raspberries and peanut butter #with oat milk #and I'm using that to distract me from the fact I'm locked out of my work emails and I can't do my Sunday evening email clear up #it's freaking me out that I can't get into them #that'll mean I have so much to do tomorrow morning #I'll probably lose my hour home on the train tomorrow trying to catch up #I love my hour to work and my hour home from work on the train #that's my me time #where I read my silly little book and chill

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kazoosandfannypacks · 5 months

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Today I got started thinking about raspberries.

Guys, I love raspberries. Raspberry iced tea, raspberry yogurt, raspberry smoothies, raspberries on their own. I adore them. They're a pretty color and when they're blended they're another pretty color and they taste amazing and they've got a super fun texture.

Tonight I was treating myself to one of my favorite foods: yogurt with honey and frozen raspberries mixed in. I can't get enough of that stuff (and being on an antibiotic gives me an excuse to eat as much yogurt as I want ;))

As I was stirring up my treat, I couldn't help but wonder: Did God know? Did God think about this moment? When God made bees, did He think about how their honey would sweeten my snack this evening? When God made cows, did He consider which cow's milk would make my yogurt? When God made raspberries, did He know we'd freeze them so we can eat them year round? Did He know how much I'd love the flavor and the color and the texture? Do you think I was on God's mind when he made raspberries?

Because I think I was, and it's incredible. God made raspberries and knew I'd love them. What else did He make with us on his mind? As He forms each daisy, does he think "I can't wait until Kazzy sees this one?" As He sends the sun and rain on the crops of wheat that'll become the flour that'll become the cakes I bake, does He think about the joy that I get from doing that? He created the sand that became the glass became the lenses of my glasses— when He did that, did he realize He was granting me greater sight?

I think He did know, and it's honestly blowing my mind how many blessings I have that remind me how often I am on God's mind.

God, thank you for raspberries, and yogurt and honey and sunshine, and all the little blessings I take for granted every moment 🙏

#kazzy's diary #raspberries #follower of jesus #kazzy writes #kazzy writes blessings #thankfulness #god #christianity

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kanene-yaaay · 2 months

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He started it!

Kanene's notes: I think my brain is no longer able to grasp what a 'quick, small fic' is kjhgfdfghjjhgvjhgf somebody this was supposed to be just a small drabble but the cuteness broke me. Somebody save me from the Dogday brain rot please somebody save me...

But anyway! Can't say when I will be able to post again, college just started and so my days are going to be very full :') Still! Hope you all like this!

Warnings: Plenty of raspberries, nibbles and teasy nicknames. Around 3,500 words. Ticklish!Dogday and Ler!Reader. Other than that, nothing, this is pure tooth-rooting fluff. Rip da boi. Also! Once again, I'm obsessed w Felix's writing style where the dialogues and narration are mingled together so all the hugs and thank you's to her :D

[~*~]

Dogday had started it.

Of course it was him. Just like a ray of sunshine, your own personal star, shining and chasing the dark shadows away, he did and now there was no other way this could’ve played out.

“A-angel, please!” His voice glitched, getting lower at the end of his plea, however immediately growing higher again as giggles began filling the space, crackling and buzzing in both despair and delight. “Think about what you’re about to do!”

You hummed and smiled at his squeal, fond and sweet and absolutely devilishly as you remembered how this entire game began.

Every single corner of this factory was dangerous. Even so, there were hostile places where any kind of sound, whisper or even a poorly suppressed gasp could attract the worst kind of attention and immediately break in pieces the fragile peace that warily followed you and Dogday in your path. At the time, you both had been walking through one of these areas for far too long, bathed by complete silence, careful to keep your steps silent and with an alerted kind of tension clinging to your form with each passing second.

That was when, for some reason, Dogday decided that enough was enough. It was his moment to shine.

Where even did the idea come from? Has he been bored?

“You just seemed so stressed!” His tail was wagging so much you could feel the wind it created hitting your legs. An involuntary coo left your mouth at the playful, a tad proud glint in his eyes, which only made his smile bigger and loopier. He tried to tug his hands away to hide his face. Needless to say, it was an unsuccessful attempt. “No, no, no! Don’t!”

Anyway, it had been confusing at first. When the giant sentient toy turned in your direction, making fingerguns with his paws and pretending to be firing at something, you immediately spun around in a quick and swift movement, grabpack and firing hand ready to attack pointing in the same direction as him, eyes searching for the danger he was gesturing.

… Stopping to think, he did almost laugh at you that moment, didn’t he? You bet that if you both didn’t have to conceal any and every sound his crackles would’ve rang free and joyfully across the whole factory.

You took an exaggerated deep breath and blew slowly in a faux disappointment, feeling his muscles under you tense and shake with barely concealed titters, a tiny protesting half whine and half plea flying around, his torso squirming.

(Away or closer to the sensations? Both of you knew the answer very well.)

Tsk. You hummed again, only to hear that adorable squeal once more. It took everything to not let him go and dig, to listen those high pitched squeals over and over again and see how many of them you could collect, letting them dance in harmony with his glitching laughter and rumbling chuckles until happiness and joy were the only thing filling his mind and actions, until his smile were wide enough to light up the dark pathway ahead and each tiny, almost imperceptive wiggle, scribble or twitch of your fingers was followed by the lovely, lovely melody of his tickly delight, prompting more and more expectant titters and pleas without you even having to lay a single finger on him.

But the game couldn’t be over so soon. And it was quite fun to see how much giggles you could get even though you weren’t actually doing anything.

(Yet.)

So you pushed down the adoring smile that tried (again) to take over your features and let it morph into a sad expression, slowly shaking your head in a fake disappointment.

Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Such a good friend and he almost laughed at you like that… After everything you both have been through, after all the fights and the talks, the hugs and the vents… You see how that is.

“P-please! Angel, just, please!”

No. Nuh-uh. You went back to your previous position, shoving your face in that soft fur. Don’t start with the sugarily sweet nicknames. You were brooding. Moping. Sad. Devastated. Betrayed. In absolute and total pain. There was no angel available right now, please return later.

His only answer was a series of even more glitched squeaks and titters growing stronger and giddier at any second with your silliness, especially when his body involuntarily jumped, already in alert for any attack and still not doing anything to scramble away.

That could be your fault, but in your humble opinion, it wasn’t very clear. Okay, maybe he couldn’t just bring himself to stop and stand still when you kept using every opportunity to nuzzle and mumble on his belly non stop, easily following his torso and quivering stomach around as he wiggled and squirmed in the same place, trying with all his might to not lose himself already with all the ticklish shocks that bolted across his entire midriff with such a simple action. Words (and teases) continue to fall like waves from your lips.

Maybe he just had been bitten by an awful ticklybug! Who would know?

“There is no tick-” Dogday gasped and snickered when you blew air against his fur again, freezing for a second in preparation for a raspberry that didn’t come. Realizing that, he let his head fall on the floor and trashed even more. He tugged his arms again, playfully growling when you kept your hold firm on them and wiggling even more as he turned to stare back at you, a funny kind of energy and antecipation racing each other in his nerves. “There is no ticklebug! It’s you!!”

Oh well.

A pity.

Anyway. Back to the story. That had been how everything began. He later explained his idea for the game, when you were able to exchange words again. From that moment, in total random occasions, one of you would make a gesture in the other’s direction and they would have to quickly react to it. In the most silly and unexpected way, preferentially, as long as you didn’t make any sound while at that.

See, Dogday? No sound.

He yapped in protest, letting out a single surprised, an offended yelp at the accusation. “We don’t need to be quiet here. You’re just teasing me!” Dogday’s hands fell to his sides, no longer trying to pry you away, shoulders shaking with every giggle and eyes watching your every action with joy and expectation.

You keep going.

The playful exchange became a habit between you two at this point, even filling the moments you didn’t exactly need to be quiet. It was a nice way to interact when there were no more words, memories or promises to be exchanged. That is why Dogday didn’t even bat an eye at you when you called his attention by innocently offering both of your hands in his direction, tail lightly wagging as he immediately placed his own paws on yours, a fun, tiny grin appearing on his previously serious and protective expression when you intertwined your fingers.

Which quickly morphed to a wide stare when you locked your grip and jumped on him, bringing both of you to the ground.

So, yeah, Dogday was the one who started it. And now he was trying to shoot his shot again, pulling out the saddest, sweetest puppy eyes in your direction.

“Angeel, please. Mercy!”

Awww.

(That was a bit adorable, you couldn’t lie. It kind of melted your heart. Just a tiny, little bit.)

(Ok. A lot.)

But that was the thing, Dogday, you were being merciful already. Because if your hands were free, you would give him the entire special attack. You would just claw and knead on that cute, truly adorable tummy, taking some precious time to give your attention to his sides and all the scribbles and scratches to his ribs, being sure to go and tickle aaaall of his favorite, ticklish spots over and over and over again, for as long as he wanted.

Wouldn’t that be nice? And, of course, during this your hands would be very, very busy, so he would have to keep his arms nice and snug out of the way. But he could do this for you, right? Even if he was laughing and squirming and crackling his heart out, not even pretending to not love every single moment of this game, or that he wanted it to be over any moment soon.

“Eek! Wait, wait!”

You grinned. See? That was what not being merciful would be. But, stopping to think, those are not bad ideas at all. He really couldn’t stop getting any more adorable, could he?

“Sweetheart!” He squeaked and shook his head, partially in a way to disperse all the restless energy taking over his body and partially in a hopeless attempt to make his big ears cover his flaming face.

Oh.

(It was quite endearing, actually, how he didn’t exactly blush. His smile would get wobblier and the light in his eyes fuzzy and lightly trembling all while he couldn’t decided if he tried to hide his face or kept staring at you with a gaze so full of complete trust, an excited desperation conquering all his features… Honestly it was just as crystal clear as if his face got completely taken over by a strong shade of red, truly.)

Your entire demeanor softened. That nickname was a new one.

(You wouldn’t mind listening to it being giggled out like this again in the future.)

You decided to return the favor.

Yes, gigglebug?

For a piece of time, Dogday froze with wide eyes and a slight ‘bzzz’ sound escaped from his voicebox. Then his squirming grew anew, no longer being able to look at your soft gaze and trying to press his dazzling, gigantic smile on his shoulders, now with his entire body bouncing with barely suppressed snickers.

His tail hit the floor with an endless and quick pace of ‘thump thumpthumpthump’. The confusion in your expression immediately gave place to a wicked smirk.

Hm.

Gigglebug?

He jolted with a yelp.

Silly giggly gigglebug?

Dogday snorts and tries to pry his hands away from yours with a bit more energy than before. Still, his efforts were still half heartedly at best. In turn you just hold them a bit tighter, thumbs lightly rubbing the back of his paws as your tipped your head to the side, - not unlike he himself watched you from time to time - chasing his gaze and maybe or maybe not giving his belly a tiny - so quick and small that it was over in less a blink - nibble until he turned back to watch you with wide fuzzy eyes.

Nope. No hiding that beautiful smile, huh?

His ears perked a little bit and his wide eyes captured yours for a moment, then jumped to your kind hands, your amused, playful glare, his defenseless belly, his captured paws, your suspecting eyes and, eventually, your eyes again.

Then, without breaking contant, he shut his mouth, firmly pressing his lips in a tight line as he lowered his head to his shoulder, successfully hiding, indeed, that beautiful smile.

Ah.

You see how that is.

Dogdayy ~

He let out a muffled giggle, only pressing his face even more on his shoulder, turning away from you.

Well, since he was insisting so much…

You discreetly adjusted your position, took a deep breath and immediately attacked his lower belly.

His entire torso spasmed, almost throwing you out of him with the sudden move, a loud peal of laughter instantly filling the air as the horrible, awfully ticklish vibrations fuelled his trashing, the raspberry spreading across every single of his nerves, leaving each and every one of them tingling and buzzing.

Another deep breath. Another long, long raspberry and a crackling squeal was ripped from his voicebox, more and more following suit as you chased every sensitive path of fur non stop, not losing a single opportunity to shake your head to increase the sensations, giggling a bit at how that never failed to glitch his words and bring more squeaks to the lovely melody of his laughter.

You spared a couple of tiny raspberries for his sides, literally feeling how they made him arch his back. That only gave you even more access to plenty of sensitive, ticklish spots that you were more than happy to latch on and tickle as if the future safety of the entire world depended on sending him to a total madness and increasing your collection of “cute-sounds-that-Dogday-does”.

You experimentally began nibbling that spot that connected his back and side, right below his belt, if you were not mistaken this would…

Snorts took over the giant toy and in a blink his back immediately clued back on the floor, torso trying and failing in curling into a defensive ball. The new round of raspberries vibrated across his side and teased his entire ribcage, tickling each bone and nerve.

Dogday tried to muffle his reactions on his shoulder, but with each nibble, each raspberry, tease and nuzzle he felt his mind getting more and more overpowered by the realization that it tickled. It tickled so, so, so much and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Not when his face seemed to be set aflame and his entire body kept getting closer and closer from giving up completely from his squirms and wiggles to let himself succumb to the joyful, insane, funny and fun sensation. Not when his angel kept looking at him with so much amusement and fondness that only succeeded to make him feel even more ticklish and the fact that his giggles weren’t the only ones filling the room made him feel extra silly and made his heart melt with delight. When he was able to just laugh and squeal his heart out, carefree and loud and happy.

How could anyone blame him, then, when he saw with the corner of his eyes you lift your head and so he decided to push his luck more, continuing to hide his big, gigantic, loopy smile.

Ohoho.

So, your dear gigglebug was trying to keep all those sweet reactions away from you, even after you worked so hard for every single one of them? Now, that really wasn’t fair, was it?

You gave him a break, no longer tickling him. Still, having your voice so close made his torso instinctively try to wiggle away, which in itself seemed to only re-alight all the reminiscent tingling on his skin, making the tickly sensation it go back to buzz and dance on his nerves, increasing the phantom tickles, each passing second and taunting word making them feel worse than before. All of this only kept Dogday stuck into an infinite sea of unstoppable, hysterical titters and snickers.

Do you think this is fair at all, gigglebug?

He shook his head and stopped, then nodded and then shook it again, giving you a glimpse of shiny eyes for a second before it disappeared once more on his fur.

Well, you think this isn’t fair at all. But that is fine. You both can stay here all day long if needed, as long it takes until you get to see that beautiful blushy face and dazzling smile. Yep. That sounds like a good, no, perfect idea! He would love this, right? To keep giggling and laughing and squealing here while being tickled silly forever and ever?

“Sweheheart!”

Oh! You wonder who said that! It sounded like your dear friend Dogday, but it couldn’t be him, right? No, not really. He was too busy hiding away from his best friend, as it seems.

Aw, that was a pity, truly. He was such a kind, awesome presence in your life. With a personality able to brighten everyone’s life and a trustful companion that was incredibly kind and strong. Always ready to help without a second thought or a blink of an eye, to give a hand, a comforting hug or a remark that would bring you straight to reality.

Besides, he was kind of cute, too. Like a sweet, excited puppy. He had this loud, booming laughter that, when you got him laughing for long enough, started to descend into a series of crackles that never failed to make him snort and bounce around in joy until his voice box began to glitch in the most endearing and funny way.

“No more teasing! No more!” Dogday’s titters grew to hysterical high pitched giggles and he scrunched up his neck, trying to best to curl up and disappear as more and more heat spread across his face. His tail would make a hole into the factory’s ground at this rate.

See? It was the most adorably adorable thing, honestly.

Actually…

You adjusted yourself again and his bubbly giggles developed to chuckles, paws tugging from your grip once again. He knew very well what that tune of yours meant.

You kind of missed listening to his laughter…

And so, with a swift move you freed your hands, fastly shoving them on Dogday’s armpits before he could even react.

Without wasting a single second, you digged.

A shriek took over every other sound in the place. And then other as you pushed your face right in the middle of his tummy, nibbling and pressing raspberries on it without mercy all while your fingers scratched, scribbled and drummed on his pits with no abandon, nimble fingers dancing on the spot for a few minutes before jumping to other one, to prevent him to get used to the sensation.

Dogday just fell limply on the floor, his shoulders, torso and belly shook with the force of his laughter, and his arms kept jumping from hiding his face to cluing on his sides in a futile attempt to stop the wiggling from worming their way, once more, to his ribs or neck. Each snort, squeal, yelp, snicker, crackle and every other sound swirled freely in the air, especially when a raspberry found a new sensitive spot that even he didn’t know about - since when his collarbone was so ticklish? - and focused all their attention there until all his cute and fun reactions slowed to a string of bubbly, hysterical giggles and his friend went on the look for another sweet tickle spot.

His neck, ribs, armpits, stomach, even his own ears had not been safe from the playful attack. A few pieces of time passed until it slowed to an incredible, horrible kind of soft tickling that led to a series of tittering sniggers to spill from his lips and to a beginning of tears to gather in the corner of his eyes.

At this point, his paws came and gently rested on your hands, engulfing them completely, glimmering eyes finding yours as the light scribbling instinctively squirm lazily from one side to other.

You stopped, entire form melting, the playful smirk plastered on your features losing the sharpness of its corners as a proud fondness took over. You freed one hand to caress the fur of his head, chuckling with drops of amusement and care when he closed his eyes and all his muscles relaxed completely at that, his tail now going back and forth in a tired but content wag. He nuzzled your hand.

There is it. My beautiful smile.

He groaned, pulling his ears until they covered his face. “Angel… You’re ruthless.”

Hey, it’s not teasing if it’s true!

Another groan. He muttered something under his breath but didn’t shy away from your touch.

The silence fell like a soft blanket on you, bringing to that dark, horrible place a feeling of safety and care that used to be just a pointless, futile dream, before.

(This was nice. Safe.)

Suddenly, two paws flew like a blur of movement in your direction and you felt your entire world tumble and turn upside down.

You blinked and as your eyes focused, only to find a giant sentient toy who resembled a dog and slowly became your trustful companionship on the last days (hours?) in this factory. Someone you knew that would be right by your side and fight for your safety almost as much as you fought for his.

Although, by the way his mischievous gaze found yours and big arms embraced you in a firm, but still gentle, hug, you must admit you weren’t feeling that safe anymore.

…Dogday?

“No. You’re in friend hug jail. Paying for your friend crimes. You can’t get out.”

You snorted. Glad that you had the sense to start that playful game in the safe area you and Dogday had been clearing and taking care for some time since the ‘You Got To Be a Human and Rest’ episode.

Getting comfortable, you let out a relaxed sigh, snuggling closer, letting your hand softly run on his back in a soft, nice rhythm, not taking too long to feel him melting under the caring touch.

Well, you may be in jail, but your consciousness was clear.

Dogday had started it.

#Ticklish!Dogday #Lee!Dogday #Ler!Reader #Ler!Player #poppy playtime tickles #poppy playtime tickling #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #DOGDAY IS A DEAR HE DESERVES TO LAUGH AND BE SILLY AND PLAYFUL AND HAPPY OK I COULDN'T HELP IT #I like to imagine that Dogday is all giggles and half pleas and protesting babbles and giddy snickers until he actually gets tickled #then he just let everything else go and start laughing non stop without a single care in the world #if i had a nickel everytime I had to be careful while describing raspberries and nibbles w a character that had trauma related to being-#well-#nibbled on but not in a tickly fun way. I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot. But it's weird that happened twice...#lkjhgfghjkolploijuh anyway!! hope you all have a nice week! take care <3 #xreader #they are both incredibly silly you honor #I was writing another fic where reader and dogday find his own small smiling critter toy version and befriend it but this one will be super #-long and time is scarse so I decided to finish this playful idea here first and then try to write the other when I can #Let's see how that plays out :D

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cursedzucchini · 1 year

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Fellas fellas listen

What if after Sam and tucker die they are liminal enough to not die, but they don't have enough big of an obsession to become full ghost.

Idk abt tucker (which nothing against the dude, but i had the idea Abt Sam and that's all i can think of rn), But!! Sam just sorta floats around dimension trying to find something that could fuel her continuous existence. (Bc idk they wanna stay w Danny, it doesn't really matter).

Well in one dimension, she find this beautiful goth city. It's kinda dark, and it was still in the process of being build, but it just seemed like such a beautiful place! It only needs a little bit of green.....

Long story short, Sam gets attached and now she's the city's spirit.

And you already know the city is Gotham.

I didn't thought of much but this concept tbh, like maybe danny could visit Sam and this way meet batfam. Or the reason why poison ivy is so op, is bc Sam really likes her style. And there could be some liminal batfam thing, and her liking Jason and bringing him back to life!!

Just Gotham Sam y'all

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #crossover #dc #dp x dc writing prompt #gotham!Sam #if u have any more ideas to add to this #pls do!!!!#also maybe sam could get sick bc of the crime and how fucked the city was #danny could visit to try and help #there could also be the momemt when batman is like: hey no metas in Gotham #and danny ready to tell him off is suddenly pushed back by this extremely tall lady in black clothes #all pearls and laces tears in her dress face hidden by her hat #nd just goes: this one is polite he can stay #meanwhile danny (im imagining him as danger twink) is just blowing a raspberry at them

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

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“Hey,” Lance whispers, brushing his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair. “Keith, baby. You up?” There’s no response. Not even a twitch. Keith remains completely out, mouth open and snoring, mumbling something every so often with a twitch of his hands.

Lance smiles softly. He runs gentle hands over Keith’s forehead, for a long time, just gently stroking the skin. Then he trails his fingertips over the bridge of his strong nose, thumb brushing over his cheekbones, memorizing the path of his faint, barely-there freckles.

“You’re my everything,” he whispers, completely awed. Keith is no more beautiful in sleep. There is crust on the corner of his eyelids, his hair’s a rat’s nest, and a trail of drool has just started to drip from the corner of his mouth.

He is every star in Lance’s sky. He is the sun cresting quietly over the horizon. He is the anticipation of the inhale, the relief of the exhale, the bubbling exhilaration of laughter and the burning feeling of a gentle touch.

He is everything.

Slowly Lance settles back onto the pillows. He’s not sure what woke him up, what dragged him awake, what compelled him to twist out of Keith’s hold and prop himself up on his elbows to stare.

He’s glad he did. He doesn’t always have the time to sit and watch, to caress rough and calloused skin, to sit with the stuttered beat of his heart and realise, startlingly, as if for the first time, that he has the unbelievable fortune to have Keith in his bed, in his arms, in his heart.

He’s startled, although he shouldn’t be, at the drip of tears down his cheeks. He lets the salty water blaze a hot trail down his skin, dripping onto their duvet, onto the pillows, onto Keith’s face.

“L’nce?” Keith mumbles, dragged from his slumber by the steady drip of Lance’s tears. “Y’good?”

“Yes,” Lance mumbles, hoarse, smile stretching his mouth almost painfully. He feels his love bubbling up through him, almost painful, choking in its hugeness. “Go back to sleep, mi alma.”

“‘Kay,” Keith says. He cracks one eye open, beautiful and indigo and dark, just as warm as it is bleary. “C’mere.” He opens his arms, wide and welcoming, and Lance doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t even pause. He falls into them easily, back to Keith’s chest, legs tangled together. Keith’s arms tighten around him immediately, even though he’s asleep again, easily cradling Lance like it’s reflex, like it’s automatic.

Like Lance is precious to him.

“Sleep,” Keith mumbles, pressing his lips to the back of Lance’s next and keeping them there.

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

#this is short and sappy bc i am a lil tiny bit tipsy #raspberry vodka works finally lol #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #established klance #soft klance #cuddling #fic fragment #my writing

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yangjeongin · 1 year

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20 minutes on delicate cycle. that’s the amount of time it takes to dry hyunjin in the washer and dryer

#hwang hyunjin #bystay #createskz #malegroupsnet #a9gifs #hyunjin #flashing tw #*gif #*ccarly #*hyunjin #*carly:hyunjin #i tried to write a normal caption i really did . but i couldn't resist making this joke #iykyk #i'm fr going to put him through the wash and tumble dry him #except he's gonna get blue on everything. so i'll have to just wash him by himself #i love u wet mop boy....looking more like toilet bowl cleaner than ever #colgate gel toothpaste looking ass (affectionate)#i love blue gatorade and blue raspberry airheads and blue highlighters and dawn dish soap <3 #ye si am fine everyone thakns for the concern

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raspberrysmoon · 4 months

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the lords in black often find themselves... attached to certain mortals. you'll see it often.

some of them get more violently attached than others, of course. they get possessive. protective, even, of the things that are theirs. like a starving lion and its fresh-killed prey.

t'noy karaxis, tinky, the bastard of time and space, is a wonderful example of how they can get violent. tinky has his toys, and once he decides they're his, no-one else is allowed to touch them. his attention is intense and short-lived. tinky gets bored of his toys rather quickly. he finds that his branding needs to be simple and easily removable. once hes done with a toy, its not his anymore. tinky wraps his toys in yellow. the naked eye could never see the intricate lines swirling around theodore spankoffski, but tinky can. tinky tugs on strings attached at points that ted doesnt realize he has. long, fluffy ears and dark, solid horns. ted cant see them, but tinky can. when hes done with his teddy bear, the yellow strings of light will fade, and the horns will fall off, only to be added to an ever-growing collection in tinkys space. when a toy- no matter how loved- does him poorly, he adds them to his collection just a little bit early. when he finds a toy taken, touched or harmed, he wrecks havoc on his brothers. he may not be the cleverest, or the hungriest, or the strongest, but he is certainly the angriest.

nibblenephim, nibbly, the one who feasts in the dark, is a delicious example of possession. nibbly doesn't find himself so entranced with his toys as tinky does-- not by a longshot-- but he doesnt get bored of them, either. when he chooses his new toy, he sinks his wide, sharp teeth into them, and they become wholly his. their blood, their very soul, glows pink in honor of the hungriest god. nibbly cannot remove this, and he does not want to. when he loses interest, or begins to dislike them, he devours them. he finds linda monroe will be an especially tasty treat when she finishes her purpose. linda is hyperaware of her marking scars. nibbly finds great joy in this fact. she knows who she belongs to, and it is certainly not that pathetic man she calls her husband. nibbly is the hungriest, and he hungers for the thrill of possession.

bliklotep, blinky, the watcher with a thousand eyes, is not as possessive, nor as violent as his brothers are. blinky prides himself on being quite calm in his watching. he finds himself switching from view to view frequently- he doesnt stick on just one. his favorites come and go from watcherworld as they please, he doesn't mind the loss of money as he reimburses their ticket cost. he enjoys watching the woodwards especially, recently. when blinky chooses someone he likes, their eyes glaze over slightly. they become a little warmer. a little more orange. they dont notice. they will never notice. blinky loses interest quickly. he finds more interest watching his brothers or his sniggles. they seek to entertain him, at least.

pokotho, pokey, the singular voice, finds favorites among crowds larger than his brothers could dream. he takes and takes and takes until he silences them. he finds a favorite here or there, a challenge, a dancer, or a particularly persuasive individual. he finds himself quite enamored with paul matthews recently- he was so difficult to infect that it was like solving a rubix cube for him. paul matthews bleeds blue, now. until the end of time, paul matthews will bear the mark of pokotho, whether he stays infected or not. pokey finds that the longer an individual is his, the deeper their blue. pokey finds great joy in tearing his toys apart to see their blue, and stitching them back together so they can sing with him again. when (not if) pokey gets bored or annoyed with their voice, he replaces it. the blue stitch lines fade, eventually, to a pale baby blue across their throat. pokey does not let his toys go.

wiggog y'wrath, wiggly, the lord in black, prides himself on not having toys. unlike his brothers, he dislikes playing with the human race himself. he doesn't much like getting his hands- well, tentacles- dirty. he prefers to let the humans who follow him do what they'd like. he appreciated linda monroe while she was his, sure, but he didn't care enough to.. care for her. he doesn't mark his humans. they stay for short bursts, and disappear. usually out of fear. wilbur cross has stayed for far too long, in his opinion, but he hasn't found another to spread his power, yet. uncle wiley has green eyes. wilbur cross does not. wiggly does not appreciate this change.

#starkid #hatchetfield #the lords in black #lords in black #nibblenephim #bliklotep #t'noy karaxis #tnoy karaxis #wiggog y'rath #wiggog y'wrath #pokotho #nibbly #wiggly #pokey #tinky #blinky #raspy rambles #raspberry writes

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ticklishraspberries · 9 months

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Etiquette Lesson (Alex/Henry)

Summary: Alex finds purposefully disrespecting the crown funny, so Henry quizzes him on proper royal etiquette. (I just watched the movie and WOW, I certainly felt every possible human emotion during it!!! This was based on an anonymous prompt and written in a 1am haze, so I hope you enjoy it! P.S. I have no idea if the little royal factoid I included is true, but I read it in like 5 articles so fingers crossed I wasn’t lied to!!!)

Alex Claremont-Diaz is many things: A son, a brother, an activist, a bisexual icon. He is also a fucking menace. At least, according to Zahra, June, his mother, and most recently, Henry.

“I stand by what I said at the wedding,” the prince says. “You need a serious lesson in etiquette.”

Apparently it’s not appropriate to try and seduce your boyfriend in the bathroom of a charity dinner, or so Henry claims.

Alex grins. “You could teach me a lesson any time,” he practically purrs.

Henry’s cheeks are pink and he clearly has to wrestle with his instincts to keep it in his pants and not teach Alex that very lesson right here, right now.

“When we’re back in our room,” Henry replies, straightening his suit jacket. He gives Alex a wink and slips out of the bathroom before his partner can protest.

The rest of the dinner is agonizing for them both, desperate to get their hands on one another.

Once they reach their hotel room, though, Alex is already unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it to the floor before the door has even shut all the way.

“You are a menace.” Henry points an accusatory finger with one hand, while the other makes sloppy work of his tie.

Alex flashes a grin. “And you love me for it, Your Majesty.”

Henry takes two steps forward and pushes him against the mattress, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes. “How many times must I remind you, that title is reserved for the King?” he asks, pinning Alex’s hands.

“But it’s so fun to call you by the wrong honorifics, baby.”

“Alright, here’s how this is going to work: it are going to answer my question, and if you get them right, you can do all the things you promised to do to me in that washroom. If you get it wrong, however, I’m going to punish you. Understood?”

Alex lets out a breath. “How exactly do you plan to punish me, Your Majesty?” he asks, fanning the flame.

Henry chuckles, leaning down so that his lips brush Alex’s ear, making goosebumps rise on his brown skin. “I’m going to tickle you until you beg for mercy, obviously.”

It’s not the answer Alex was expecting, and he flushes, immediately beginning to squirm. “Oh, baby, come on, you don’t—”

“We can always just go to bed, if you’d rather not take the risk,” Henry cuts him off.

Alex knows that's Henry’s way of reassuring him they don’t have to do this. That if Alex hates the sound of that, they can pretend it was never said and move on. They’ll probably even still fuck if he taps out now, because they are both half-hard and a little bit tipsy.

But Alex hates backing down from a challenge, and he supposes there are worse punishments Henry could have suggested…

“Deal,” he finally says.

Henry grins down at him in the sexiest way possible and Alex has to bite his lip to keep from whining.

“What flower do royal women traditionally include in their wedding bouquets?”

Alex blinks at him, disbelieving. “Are you serious? Why the hell would I know that?”

“Are you giving up already?” Henry asks, resting his fingers on Alex’s belly.

“No, no, wait—Uh, lilies?”

Henry’s fingers start moving without warning, scribbling up towards Alex’s ribs. “Want another guess?”

Alex has already begun giggling like mad, the anticipation and champagne in his bloodstream making him twice as susceptible to the ticklish touch. “Violets?” he guesses between laughter.

Henry clicks his tongue with mock disappointment. “No, sorry love. I’ll give you one more guess.”

He’s scratching at the spot between Alex’s top rib and the hollows of his armpits, and the First Son is a cackling mess because of it. “Fuck, I don’t—Uh, tulips?”

Henry shakes his head. “That’s too bad, dear. Clearly you need to read up more on my country’s traditions. I’ll have Shaan put together a file for you,” he teases, leaning in to pepper soft kisses across Alex’s neck, and sneaking a cheeky nip to his collarbone for good measure.

Alex kicks his legs, his laughter bubbly and joyful and absolutely adorable, as far as Henry is concerned. He’s known that Alex is ticklish since the third time they hooked up, and he got his head crushed between the American’s legs after touching his inner thighs too softly.

“Baby, c’mon,” Alex gasps, scrunching up his shoulders in a lame attempt to protect his neck.

“Begging already?” Henry asks.

Despite the desperation in his laughter, Alex shakes his head, defiant as ever.

“Suit yourself.”

Henry quickly grabs at his hips, squeezing in a way that always makes him turn to jelly. The squirming and kicking stops as Alex becomes boneless on the pristine hotel sheets, his laugh breathless and wild and beautiful.

“Okay, okay, I’m begging,” he babbles. “Please, baby, no more.”

Henry stops immediately, running soothing palms up Alex’s arms, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks. “You are such a brat,” he mutters.

Alex snorts between gasps of air. “You never told me the answer.”

“Hm?”

“To the question you tortured me over? What flower is it?”

“Myrtle,” Henry replies.

“What? How was I going to guess that? That’s not a flower, that’s a ghost from Harry Potter!”

Henry laughs. “Maybe I didn’t want you to guess it correctly.”

“You set me up, you dick!”

Alex is on him in an instant, fingers finding the curve of Henry’s waist and digging in until the room is filled with laughter once again.

Alex might be an absolute menace, but Henry supposes he can be one as well.

#rwrb ticklefic #rwrb tickle fic #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #firstprince tickle #firstprince #tickle fic #ticklefic #raspberry writes

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becca-e-barnes · 2 years

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I just gotta say, sub!pornstar!bucky

I have simply passed away.

I have been thinking about this for days, I need to write about it so my head will let it go

Just the thought of coming home to Bucky filming a scene with a dildo that's stuck to the wall by a suction cup. You didn't think he'd still be filming when you got home so you know he must really be enjoying himself if he's still going.

You hear his whimpers before you've even crossed the threshold. He's moaning like he does when he's beautifully overstimulated and he's quickly on his way to those broken sobs you love so much.

A hot throb settles in the pit of your stomach. You're not sure how you're supposed to just sit here and wait for him to finish, not when he sounds like that. But then you remember it's web-cam day. He'll be live-streaming and that gives him a little more wiggle room with his scenes.

"Bucky, sweetheart?" You call into the apartment, knowing that if he wants you to join him he'll respond.

You can imagine the look on his pretty, blissed out face just from the groan that resounds from the bedroom.

"F-Fuck, mommy?" Oh, he's in that headspace today. A pleasant tingle runs up your spine at the realisation all those people on the livestream heard him admit to being yours. They know he's owned. They might be getting off on whatever delightful display of submission he's letting them see but ultimately, he's yours and he wants to be.

You pad down the hallway quickly, discarding your jacket on the way. The bedroom door wasn't fully closed, swinging open with a gentle press and the sight in front of you is just breathtaking.

Bucky is on his hands and knees, with the camera at a 45 degree angle to his face . He's letting his viewers see the way he works himself on that cock but they still get to see the fucked out look in those pretty eyes. Better still, he gets to read the comments. All those strangers degrading him, calling him a filthy slut, taunting him that he'll be in trouble if he doesn't cum in the next few minutes.

He loves this. Clearly. If the pool of cum splattered across the wooden floor is anything to judge by.

"M-mommy?" His voice is weak and feeble, his cheeks are flushed, his dick looks achingly hard, bobbing as he continues to fuck himself on the toy.

"Oh baby, are you being slutty for all these nice people?" You coo, stepping into the focus of the camera, knowing that it will only see your legs, given the angle.

The chat floods with messages faster than ever. Some tell you your Bucky has been a little whore, some tell you he hasn't been slutty enough, some tell you they want to watch you punish him. Each message only seems to send your sweet boy a little more stupid and it's delightful.

"You've cum everywhere. Did all these people get to watch you fuck yourself stupid? I bet you didn't even touch your dick, did you? I know you just fucked your own ass until you came all over yourself. That's pathetic, baby."

This is Heaven for him. His head lolls forward onto his forearms, pleasure making him almost boneless but you can't have that. Absolutely not.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling his face back up and making him look right down the camera. "Good boy, that's it. Let them see you. Show them that pretty face." His dick twitches, threatening to blow another load over the floor and he knows it.

"I'm gonna cum. Holy shit, I'm s-so close." His eyes roll back in his head and fuck, he's perfect like this. He's breathtaking and it's going to be great for views.

"Don't you dare. You cum when we tell you to." You remind him, dragging his attention back to the rolling chat. Half are keen to watch him cum right then and there and the other half want you to draw it out a little longer. Unfortunately for Bucky, you're leaning towards the latter.

#asks answered <3 #stevekempscocktails #becca writes spice #sub!bucky #sub!ps!bucky #ps!bucky #I LOVED writing this #I really want to bake a cute little loaf cake rn #I found a recipe for a raspberry and lemon loaf cake #and I want to bake it #but I don't like cake #no one in my house would eat it #I'm going to run away to a cottage in the forest and bake my own bread #and grow my own vegetables #I could make butter for my bread too #I could bring Belle #lol I know damn well I'd be in my cottage for a week before I'd be bored #but it's a nice thought rn idk

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snackugaki · 1 year

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... HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA— this isn’t even the first time I drew Donnie as the Rose Bride.

anyway, this is how I’m closing out the weekend.

links ‘cuz I can’t be assed into segueing them into sentences with hyperlinks today

Utena for the sub kids

Utena for the dub crowd

And a shoutout to The Kid, The Purple One, His Royal Badness

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quibbs126 · 3 months

Note

for the fankid requests,,, perhaps darkrasp?

Oh lord IT’S FINALLY DONE

I finished this like a month ago, still forgot to post him. I’ll try doing that now

“Within the gardens of Chateau Raspberry, one may find this black and white Cookie training vigorously to hone his skills. Born of chocolate, a generous amount of whipped cream, and raspberries in place of normal cherries, it isn’t uncommon for others to not recognize that he is part of the noble House Raspberry. Because of this, Black Forest Cookie has resolved to work twice as hard to improve his skills, to show that he is the embodiment of House Raspberry’s ardor and skill, and that he will carry on their legacy.”

“He wonders about his father’s past.”

Sorry this wasn’t a very good description. I just wasn’t sure how to word it and make it look good. I need to read more descriptions to get better at this (also writing this descriptions is kind of the reason I’ve been putting off posting these)

My ideas for him is that he’s a swordsman, wants to live up to House Raspberry and particularly his mother’s legacy, and while he gets along with his father, he knows very little about his past (since here Dark Choco doesn’t really talk about it much, he never went and worked things out with his dad). Also he’s a bit of an introvert and just wants to sword fight and read books, but I didn’t know how to work in that last bit without it sounding weird

Anyways, design notes time

So the name Black Forest comes from Black Forest cake, since that was the closest thing I could think of that combines chocolate and raspberries, even though black forest cake is made with cherries. For a time I was considering using Raspberry Jam instead, but then I went back to Black Forest

Black forest cake:

I admit, he looks like he’s from the 1700s or something. Granted, I don’t think that’s too out of place in the Hollyberry Kingdom

The hair I remember being something I struggled with for a while, until I kind of settled on this for his hair. I’ll be honest, the sketch I did up top really helped me get a good idea for his design and finally finish it (granted that was a couple months ago)

I had always wanted to give him a white outfit, since Dark Choco and Raspberry both have costumes in white, and I was able to do that here

I’m sorry, this is a bad post (I’m talking description wise, the art itself I don’t think is too bad). I designed him a long time ago, I’m not good at writing the character descriptions, and frankly I’m just writing this because I feel like I just have to get it out and actually post these requests. So I’m just gonna stop now, hopefully next one I post I’ll be able to write a better description, and I hope you like…whatever coherent stuff you can find here, and his design I guess

#this post is a mess #hopefully it’ll just be this one #maybe I’ll edit it in post #but frankly I’m just writing this because I feel like I need to get this out eventually #would probably be better if I did it when I made it #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #dark choco cookie #raspberry cookie #darkrasp #fankid #fanchild #cookie run oc #black forest cookie #my ocs #my art #requests #answers

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kanene-yaaay · 3 months

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Oh, To Die By Your Hands

Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.

Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D

[~*~]

“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy.

Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”

A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”

“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”

“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”

“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”

“That is right, that is right.”

They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.

It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to.

Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.

Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.

And yet…

Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core.

Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.

Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did.

Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son.

If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.

“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”

So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.

Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”

He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.

Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him.

“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby.

“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.”

“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”

“We are.”

Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.

“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”

The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him.

He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.

But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.

“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”

“No. It’s… the other.”

Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”

Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”

Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.

“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”

“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”

“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”

Oh.

Yeah, that… that made sense.

This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.

It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.

But…

“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”

“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”

“Do you promise?”

Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”

Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.

Maybe… If it was him.

He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall

“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well…

Talk. About stuff.

“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”

(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)

Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”

“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”

(It doesn’t matter.)

“Nah.”

Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”

“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”

“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire. His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”

“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”

Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.

“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”

“Oh, you think so?”

Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble.

“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”

Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”

Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice.

Cozy.

Warm.

Tickly.

Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.

Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.

(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)

The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.

He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.

Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.

He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.

“Oh, is it my turn now?”

Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”

Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.

“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”

“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”

That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”

“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”

“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”

Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.

“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”

Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.

“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer.

Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”

“Pac…”

But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.

A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.

Then he heard it, low as a whisper. “Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?” He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this.

“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”

The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”

“Really?”

“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”

“P-pac, come on…”

The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.

“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”

Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from.

Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.

“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.

“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”

Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.

He waited.

Waited. Nothing.

A kiss was pressed on his forehead.

He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.

“Oi, Fitch.”

“Roi, Pa-ACK!”

Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next.

Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.

It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.

“You were saying, Fitch?”

Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.

“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”

The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap.

Fit was the one who broke it.

“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”

“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”

The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him.

“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”

“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.”

“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”

“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”

Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him.

“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”

Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.

But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.

Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.

“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers.

“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”

“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”

“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain.

Damn, he was really, really gay.

“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”

With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.

“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter.

His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.”

“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance.

Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”

“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator.

The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.

All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.

Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.

“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.

“Shuhuhut up!”

Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.

Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.

“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”

The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.

“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”

Oh.

Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.

“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)

The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck.

Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.

Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.

A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable.

Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.

A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.

“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!)

“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”

Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.

“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.”

The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval.

Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”

“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”

The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?”

He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.

Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”

Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.

He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.

Fit chuckled.

Maybe Pac was right.

Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill.

Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.

#I couldn't help myself. I just HAD to make Pac's accent getting stronger when he is being tickled. I JUST HAD TO.#One day I will write a tickle fic where someone learn the word 'cosquinha' and keep teasing the brazilians about it that day is not today #Because I Would Die. Fall on the floor completely dead.#Fit: I'm a monster Pac // Pac twirling his hair giggling kicking his legs: that man could destroy me hehehe #Sometimes I worry for their mental health #Fit: *is silly* // Pac: *internal non stopping gay screaming*#Pac: a // Fit: You're absolutely right #qsmp tickles #qsmp tickling #Switch!Fit #Switch!Pac #Ticklish!Fit #Ticklish!Pac #Kanene's fic #Kanene's fanfic #Still not over Pac saying that he would kiss marry and kill Fit and Fit answering with 'I like my man dangerous' like GET OUTTTT #I'm going to become homphobic in the end of this I am telling you I can no longer take this I had to keep pausing their date because-#-*I* KEPT GETTING GIDDY AND EMBARRASSED LIKE GET OUT OF HEREEEEE YOU'RE MADDLY IN LOVE YEAH WE KNOWWW #Fun fact here Fit prefers to tickle attack his loved ones with raspberries and stuff because he doesn't trust his hands to be gentle :D #Sorry :')

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