#bnha tickle

[ppystkposts]

This is a commission, do not use or trace

THANK YOU SO MUCH @wertzunge ( ´∀`)/~~💞

(2/3)

[sleepysheepytea]

Hiya Sheepy!!! Could you possibly throw izuku midoriya into the tk machine? 👀👀/nf 🩵 I hope you have a great rest of your day and remember to stay hydrated!

TEEHEE

Warning for footer tickles

I keep forgetting that like there is a literal canon tickle machine in bnha,,,,, grrrr how come they have not brought it back

But anyway I added my own touches to it heheheheee

[moonsoaked-tickles]

a doodle I did a while ago and never shared oopsie

I like him did you know

[wreckingtickles]

1 Hour in Tickle Hell!

Sir Nighteye doesn't appreciate Izuku endangering himself, and Mirio takes it upon himself to punish him as customary for their agency...

Characters: Lee Izuku, ler Mirio

Words: 7,757

Big thanks to @sleepysheepytea for letting me use her wonderful leezuku piece as a preview image! If you're reading this, you probably have already, but if not, go give her a like!

Intense tickles under the cut!

“Reckless endangerment! You act like your life is of no consequence! But if you die, who is going to save everyone?”

That was the fifth rhetorical question Sir Nighteye asked of a bashful Midoriya as he paced up and down his office, dressing down the stiff teenager.

“Self harm! You risk permanent damage every time you push your Quirk too far, and if your disregard for your own health wasn’t a serious enough matter, what if you incapacitate yourself on the field? What if you had forced Mirio to choose between saving a civilian and you?!”

Neither was looking at the other, Nighteye yelling at the walls as if he couldn’t even bear to look at his intern at that moment, while his words weighed down Midoriya’s gaze and glued it to the floor. Deku understood everything the hero was saying, he realized he was right, but somehow he also knew that he’d make the same choices every single time.

Nighteye’s furious steps halted as he lowered his voice, “And worst of all…” he began before dramatically turning to point an accusatory finger at Izuku, “Your smile wavered! Who is going to believe that there is any hope if they feel like their rescuer is lying to them?!”

Once again, the intern said nothing. All Might’s former sidekick was going to kick him out of the agency, and even as he dreaded that verdict, part of him seemed to think he’d done nothing wrong. Was he really that arrogant?

“For all these infractions, I sentence you…”

Deku closed his eyes as if in preparation for a hard blow to the head.

“...to one hour in Tickle Hell.”

Wait, what? Izuku dared to look up. Nighteye’s impenetrable expression gave nothing away except his usual earnestness. Was that really it?

Mirio, still in his hero costume, piped up next to Izuku. “Sir, the machine broke.”

“Again?!”

“Tiffany’s coming on Monday.”

“Then you’ll carry out his punishment,” commanded Nighteye as he took his seat behind his desk. He’d already checked out of the conversation. “Any problems with that?”

“None, Sir, but since it’s his first time, might we do it after closing time?”

“Very well. Make sure you close up after you’re done.”

—

“Yeah, I lied about the machine,” revealed Mirio with a chuckle. “I just thought it’d be weird for you, especially since it’s your first time.”

“Oh. Thank you,” replied Izuku tentatively, not quite sure what to make out of the surreal deal. If nothing else, he was grateful he wasn’t being tickled in front of everyone else, though Mirio calling it his “first time” didn’t bode too well for his future.

“So, let’s take a seat!” urged Mirio cheerfully, wheeling out two office chairs so they faced each other and motioning for Izuku to choose one.

Blushing to his ears, Izuku took a seat. Mirio plopped down in the other, the mechanism groaning a little under his weight. He was being goofy to put him at ease, Izuku knew, and he wished he could be grateful for it, but the whole situation was too awkward. 

Mirio was sitting there in front of him with his comforting smile, as if it was a perfectly normal thing. And it probably was, in Sir’s agency. It’s not like his classmates didn’t tickle him all the time either. Literally: all the time. Apparently, he was just too adorable when he laughed. And while it could be very annoying, he didn’t mind too much, since he could tell it was done with affection and not to humiliate him. But he hadn’t known Mirio that long…

“Hey, you still there?” Mirio’s question snapped him out of his reverie. “You were muttering to yourself.”

“Sorry, it’s just… I feel bad that you lied to Sir Nighteye for me.”

“He probably knows and knows why I did it. And besides, I don’t really mind the machine. It’s a good time,” explained Mirio with his usual jolly tone. “So, you ok with me tickling you?”

Izuku blushed a deeper shade of red and nodded. What else could he say?

“Good! Do you want to set the timer, or should I?”

He was making him feel like an active participant. He had to be an incredible hero in a crisis. But Izuku was too nervous and couldn’t remember where he’d left his phone. “You, uh, you can do it.”

“Great! I’ll set it to 10 minutes, then you get a 2-minute break. That’s how the machine operates. So if you factor in the breaks, you’re only being tickled for 50 minutes! ” explained Mirio as he set the timer on his phone and placed it on the desk next to Midoriya, so he could check it at will. “One last thing! I need you to take off your shoes and socks. Oh, and to make it count, I need to tickle you under your T-shirt, or you can take it off if you prefer. Is that ok with you?”

“D-Do you really have to?”

“Yep!” said Mirio, clapping his hands on his thighs. “I agree with Sir, you need to learn that your well-being matters, so don’t expect me to play nice!”

Maybe the machine wouldn’t have been so bad after all. But then he remembered that each time he’d seen the machine in action, it always started with those fuzzy appendages that targeted the poor hero’s sides and hips, and Izuku shivered at the memory. One hour of the spot his classmates had told him was his worst for a whole hour?! No way.

“O-ok,” stammered Izuku as he began to remove his bright red shoes, carefully tucking them aside. He also slipped off his black socks - thankfully the agency had showers and he’d been able to wash up - balled them up, and put one inside each shoe.

“You’re very tidy, good for you!” praised Mirio, but Izuku was too tongue-tied to utter anything other than a bashful “Thanks.”

Izuku sat back down, forcing himself to keep his bare soles planted on the ground and to keep his back straight, his hands balled into nervous fists on his thighs. He wanted nothing more than to hide his face behind his knees and die of embarrassment.

Mirio was looking at him with that smile of his. There was no telling what he was thinking. “Oh, can you start the timer?” he asked suddenly.

“Y-Yes,” answered Izuku, anything to keep his mind off of what was about to happen. He reached his hand toward the desk, tapped the screen… and suddenly found himself in a world of hysterics as Mirio’s hands snuck up to his sides.

“WAHAHAHAHAHIHIHIT!!! IIHIHIHHI WAAHAHAHAHASN’T REEEHEHEHEHEHADDY!!!!”

“Not good, Midoriya! Expect the unexpected!” advised Mirio while his strong hands went on squeezing the green bean’s sensitive flanks. 

Izuku tried batting them away, grabbing his wrists, using any self-defense technique he’d learned, but Mirio was much stronger than him and even a mere few seconds of tickling had messed up his coordination. Betrayed by his own sensitive body, again!

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHA!!!”

It didn’t even matter that the senpai was tickling him through his T-shirt, all Midoriya seemed to be able to do was sink deeper into the chair and laugh as Mirio loomed over him.

“Oh wow, you’ve got it bad!” remarked Mirio with a chuckle. “Are you ticklish anywhere else?” he asked as he moved up to the trainee’s ribs. This time, the fabric of Izuku’s statement shirt lessened the effect of the probing fingers that vibrated and raked at his ribcage with single-minded dedication. 

“AAAHAHahahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEEHHHEHEHahaahasssseeheheheh!!! StoohoHOHOHOHOP!”

“No can do, Midoriya! This is your punishment! Take your tickles with pride!”

Izuku couldn’t tell to what extent Mirio was teasing him and to what extent he was being his goofy self, but he found himself trying to hide his beet red face from his upperclassman, and failing miserably as the the thumbs suddenly pressing into the bottom of his ribcage forced him to squeal and to try to push the offenders away from him.

“NAAAAhahaahahahahahaha!!! IhihihihIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIcklehehehehehehehssss!!”

Mirio couldn’t believe how adorable the first year looked when he laughed freely, his face scrunched up and his beautiful smile on full display as the boyish laughter rang in the empty office, an informal welcome.

Mirio hadn’t expected it would be that much fun. He could tell that Izuku, after the shock of the first few moments, was torn between trying to escape the tickles and forcing himself to sit still and embrace his weird punishment, and the clash between his will and his sensitivity made his struggle all the more endearing.

But when the probing fingers entered Izuku’s underarms, Izuku was suddenly of a single mind about his predicament.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! TOOOHOHOHOGAHAHAHATA!!! IIII CAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNNN’TT!!!”

He had fully sunk in the back of the chair, his legs kicking wildly at either side of the goofy tickle monster as the latter leaned forward to negate Izuku’s attempt to merge with the cushion, his tongue stuck out in concentration as he was determined to mine that weak spot for all it was worth. 

Naturally, the greenette’s natural reaction was to clamp down his arms, succeeding at limiting the range of motion of those pesky fingers… too bad they were exactly where Mirio wanted and Izuku didn’t want them.

“TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHHIIHHIIHMMEEE!!! TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHIHHIHIMME!!!” squealed izuku through the gales of laughter.

Mirio raised his head - he didn’t even need to relent to glance at the stopwatch - and gave him an apologetic smile. “Take my word for it, you don’t want to know,” he promised as his index fingers made a push deeper into the all too sensitive hollows.

“YAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

Mirio simply couldn’t believe how adorable the greenette sounded and looked when he was flailing in the throes of ticklish agony, his entire body tensing up from under Mirio, his eyes widening with shock for a moment, as the fingers inched upward and inward, teasing the very sensitive skin at the center of Midoriya’s underarms.

“OOOOOHOHOHOHO NOOOOHOHOHOOHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Izuku didn’t know what to do. They’d probably just started, but Mirio was going at it with an enthusiasm he hadn’t anticipated, he really seemed hell-bent on making that punishment feel like… a punishment.

But even through his T-shirt, it tickles so much that Izuku gave up hope of controlling his reactions, and he reflexively started pushing Mirio away in any way he could - and with his arms being out of commission as they were locked in their ineffective barricade, that meant trying to create enough space by wedging a knee against Mirio’s chest, then pushing with his other foot.

That maneuver had been created with grappling in mind; but in that specific scenario, it would lead to more harm and good, because when Mirio felt the foot push against his chest, he didn’t try to oppose it: he grabbed it. “Rookie mistake, young Midoriya.”

Izuku was almost relieved that first one hand, then the second left his poor pits alone. By the time he realized his mistake, it was too late, because four fingers were already scribbling up and down his bare sole.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Nohohohoahaht thehehehehehehehehehehhere!!!”

It was only one foot, but there was no protective layer of fabric between the tickling fingers and the tickled sole, and Izuku really did not want to make the same mistake twice, so he tried to keep his other foot firmly planted on the ground, or at least out of Mirio’s reach, but no matter how hard he kicked, Mirio’s grip was a steel vise, and he only succeeded at rolling his chair farther and closer to his tickler.

For his part, Mirio was plenty happy to take his time with the one sole he got, a little squat and small in his hand, but arguably a little big on someone Izuku’s height, while he waited for the second to inevitably fall into his lap. He abandoned his scattershot approach in favor of a more analytical one, scratching briefly at the heel…

“Hahahahahahaha!!! Hehehehehehehehehehe!”

Then the scribbling fingers traveled up the arch, lingering on the instep when Mirio noticed that Izuku’s giggling grew more squeaky…

“Hahahahaahha!! NEHEHEHEHEhehehehehehehehhahahahaaha!!!”

He dragged his fingernails up and down the arch, and whenever Izuku would attempt to lessen the sensation by scrunching up his sole, Mirio would briefly focus on his arch right above his heel, constantly switching between those spots… It wasn’t just classmates who were oddly skilled at tickling!

“Ohohohohahahahahahahaha!! HAHAahahahahahahahahahaha!!”

Finally, the dull fingernails reached Izuku’s bubble-like toes, eliciting bubbly giggles and squeaks from the greenette, who gripped the armrests for dear life as Mirio seemed to have no intention of letting go and repeatedly stomped the ground with his other foot.

“NeheheehehHEHEHEHEHEEHHEEHE!!! Hahahahahahahahaahahahahahahaha!!!”

“Your toes are so small and cute,” teased Mirio, proceeding to run his thumb on the underside of his toes before grabbing them one by one as if playing ‘this little piggy’. He’d noticed how Izuku wasn’t even trying to negotiate or plead, but had accepted his predicament even as his body fought against it. Either he didn’t hate it, or he was used to it.

Izuku went on squirming in his seat, floundering as his priorities were split between maintaining his balance and hiding his face. Mirio took that chance to lift his ankle higher, throwing him slightly off balance and forcing his other leg to kick out, and Mirio was ready, rapidly scooping both ankles in a headlock and spidering his fingers all over both soles.

“NOOOOhohohohhoho!!! SeheheehEHEHEHHEHEhenpaaaahahahahaihihi!!!! HahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAahahahahahahhaha!!!”

“You sound so happy!” remarked Mirio, as if Izuku needed additional teasing. “Is this your most ticklish spot?” 

Izuku didn’t know if his armpits or his feet were worse despite the wealth of experience his classmates had regaled him with, they were bad in different ways, but he knew there was one spot that was even worse. He wasn’t going to say it, but he wasn’t going to lie either, and the compromise seemed to be to laugh his head off.

“I’m not hearing a no,” said Mirio as his frenzied scratching got faster, focusing on the arches and Izuku’s toes.

Izuku threw his head back as the ticklish sensation coursed up his body… and felt himself fall before his shoulders hit the ground.

Mirio stopped tickling him immediately. “Are you hurt?”

Izuku took a few deep breaths, shielding his face once more as he shook his head no.

“Good!” trilled Mirio before sending him into a new fit of laughter as he resumed tickling the squat soles. “Just kidding,” he said after a few moments, letting go of Izuku’s ankles and offering him a hand, which Izuku took. In a moment, he was back on his feet, welcoming the cold floor under his pink soles.

Izuku took that chance to glance at the timer. Six minutes. It hadn’t even been six minutes yet. Izuku went pale, meaning that his scarlet complexion dimmed to a dark pink. But he didn’t have a lot of time to mull over that piece of info, because he was suddenly pulled into Mirio’s lap, the upperclassman’s thick forearm a steel bar that pinned his chest.

Any protest Izuku might have formulated dissolved into gleeful cackles as Mirio’s free hand crawled under his tee and started scratching at his taut stomach.

“NEHEHEHahhahaahahahahahaha!! Stoohhohohohahahahaap PLEHEHEHEHEHAAASE!!”

“Here too? You are one ticklish guy,” chuckled Mirio without being bothered by Izuku’s attempts to grab his wrist or shield his tummy, being much stronger than the green bean who seemed hell bent on not using his Quirk to get away.

Mirio’s friendly claw was wreaking havoc on Izuku’s belly, inflating and depressing to the bright tune of his laughter. He roamed all across the abdominal expanse, dipped one finger in Izuku’s bellybutton to unleash a few adorable squeaks, spidered his fingers on his lower belly and waist, then let his hand tweak at every part of Izuku’s skin under the tee, revisiting his sides, his ribs, making brief attacks on his pits, before descending and squeezing  Izuku’s hip…

The greenette’s eyes bulged open as he screeched “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! NahahahahahHAHAAHAHAHHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHARRE!!!”

“I think you really mean it this time,” teased Mirio as he went on pinching and squeezing at the dreaded spot, switching sides so Izuku couldn’t keep up. When he saw there were only 20 seconds left, “You’re almost there!” he cheered as he latched onto Izuku’s hip and dug in repeatedly, fully unleashing his inner big brother to really give the younger student a laugh.

He kept his eye on the timer in case he couldn’t hear it over Izuku’s laughter, and when he saw it hit zero, he immediately let go of the green bean, only helping him steady himself so he wouldn’t fall again.

“There, there,” he said. “Take deep breaths.”

Izuku jumped off Mirio’s lap and landed on the chair in front of him, his perception of the hot seat completely altered after the last round of tickling.

“You good?”

“I’m… ok, just… uh…” stammered Izuku, and at first Mirio thought he was simply catching his breath, btu then he noticed how the green bean’s gaze was glued to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” said Mirio, causing Izuku to perk up. “Between my Quirk and working with Sir, sometimes I forget that some things come across as a bit weird outside of this office.”

“No, it’s… it’s ok, really,” assured Midoriya.

“I should have offered to let you tickle me first, because it’s really no big deal! Laughing is fun. Sometimes, if I’m having a hard day, I ask Sir to let me use the machine to feel better.”

That was some major Kirishima energy coming from the heroic goofball, and that familiar attitude relaxed the hold that embarrassment had on Izuku’s chest.

“But if it’s too weird for you, I can let you use the machine, or we can speak to Sir tomorrow and try something else!”

A wave of gratitude washed over Izuku. Still, “No, it’s… I want to do this,” he said. “Ihit’s not too… weird. In fact, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Mirio smiled. “I can believe that, your laughter really lights up the room! It’s so nice to listen to.”

That comment caused Izuku’s arm fortress to envelop his face again. Even so… “T-thanks,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard that, and he’d started to accept it as a compliment. Since they’d moved into the dorms, pretty much every brush with tickling he’d had was not a way to demean him, but affectionate physical contact or a silly way to bond, and it had started to remove the sting of past memories with it.

And Mirio… Izuku was a bit intimidated by the upperclassman who should have received One for All in his place, he was just so amazing that despite his kind demeanor, or perhaps precisely because of it, Izuku felt some kind of resistance at the prospect of getting close to him. And still, over time, he’d started to want to be his friend. So the fact that he was acting the same way his friends did was… comforting.

“Ready for round 2?” asked Mirio.

“A-Already?”

“You have one more minute, don’t worry, but I have a proposal. Two, actually!”

“Ok,” replied Izuku nervously.

“First: we use the machine’s restraints so you don’t have to worry about punching me in the face or activating your Quirk. Sounds good?”

No, it didn’t, but it made sense, and he trusted Mirio. Even so, he gulped before saying, “Yes.”

“Proposal the second: if you want to get this over with quicker, we can turn on the machine while I tickle you. We’ll say that cuts the remaining time in half. What do you think?” 

If Izuku tried to hide the panic in his eyes, he certainly failed. That would allow them to go home sooner, especially Mirio, who was essentially working overtime due to Izuku’s own mistakes, but the green bean didn’t want to find out what being double-teamed felt like. “M-Maybe later.”

Mirio nodded, his smile unwavering, and walked over to the machine’s control panel. “Let’s see…”

As he pressed various buttons, the machine began to shift, changing its angle, adding and removing restraints, creating protrusions and depressions. That thing was a lot more customizable than Izuku had ever thought, and he couldn’t help wondering who had made it and how much money Sir must have spent on it.

“Hop on,” instructed Mirio. The machine was nearly unrecognizable. It was at around a 30° angle from the floor, with a large cubic protrusion emerging from the bottom that seemed to be intended as a seat. Two metal rings jut out from the front of the cube - ankle restraints, surmised Izuku. There was a second set of restraints at the top of the machine, two adjacent parallelepipeds with circular holes.

Izuku sheepishly made his way toward the machine, eyeing the four cavities from which the tickle-tools were supposed to come out. But he knew they wouldn’t unless he gave Mirio the go ahead.

Before hopping on the cubic seat, however, he paused to remove his top - his hair was already damp and he didn’t want to sweat through his change of clothes as well. Considering how many times he’d seen Mirio naked due to Quirk-related accidents, he didn’t feel too awkward.

Mirio flashed Izuku a thumbs-up as the latter climbed into the machine, the cold metal not entirely unpleasant against his bare back. He placed his ankles into the two rings, which snapped shut around the cuffs of his emerald trousers, then raised his arms over his head and fitted his wrists through the padded restraints above him.

Lying there was certainly more comfortable than standing or thrashing about in an office chair, but it also made Izuku feel that much more exposed and vulnerable, his entire upper body stretched out and on full display, his bare feet dangling out of reach.

His nervousness was partly allated when he saw Mirio step closer to him, having concocted a rather extravagant solution to allow Izuku to see the timer: he’d put his phone in his armband and donned it on his head, so the screen was smack dab in the middle of his forehead. It was exactly the kind of kind and silly thing Mirio would do to put someone at ease, and Izuku felt a wave of affection for the older student.

“Are you ready? I won’t be too mean, I promise.”

Izuku nodded, steeling himself.

“Ok. Boop the timer,” instructed Mirio as he leaned closer to Izuku’s face, allowing him to start the timer with his nose. It took a few tries, and Izuku chuckled in spite of himself. Mirio was trying so hard to put him at ease, he had to do his part too.

“Timer booped successfully,” he said as he tried to approximate the upperclassman’s speech.

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Mirio an instant before he started squeezing Izuku’s knees.

The ticklish jolt caused the greenette to jump a little, and Mirio went on squeezing, looking for just the right spot as his fingers probed at the fabric and the muscle under it.

“Eep! Eek!” yelped Izuku repeatedly, before the string of squeaks melded into a steady stream of high-pitched giggles as Mirio’s thumbs found just the right spot above each kneecap and wouldn’t let go.

Izuku’s titters were just too precious, Mirio knew at that moment it wouldn’t be the last time he’d volunteer to punish the green bean if he kept running headlong into danger. There was something so innocent about the way he kept scrunching his fists and soles to cope with the sensation, about the way his toes pointed inward as he twisted his knees to escape the tickles.

It was such a mesmerizing sight that Mirio ended up spending way more time on that spot than he’d intended, so he tried to make up for it by goosing Izuku’s thighs. 

“Hehehehehehehehehehe!! Hehahahahahahahahahahaah!!!”

Thankfully, the thick fabric diffused some of the pressure, making it a lot more bearable than it would have been otherwise.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Mirio.

“Ihihihit tihihihckleehehs buhuhut Ihihih cahahahn tahahahahke ihihihit!” admitted Izuku.

“Ok, good to know!” replied Mirio. “Time to get serious!”

And he started spidering his fingers up and down Izuku’s ribs and sides. momentarily avoiding the hot spot that were his hips, but not holding back at all otherwise, playing the green bean like a piano.

The reaction was immediate.

“OhnoohohohOHOHOHHOAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!” 

Izuku burst into laughter, it was so much worse when he was shirtless and couldn’t squirm away!

And Mirio didn’t linger on a single spot for too long, letting his fingers travel up and down, up and down, delivering light and quick touches like kitten licks.

Next he tried slowly dragging his fingernails, caressing the skin, and while Izuku’s laughter seemed to decrease for a moment, the longer he kept it up, the higher in pitch it rose, and it quickly spilled forth again, bubbling like a cauldron.

“EhehehehehHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAAHAHAH!!! PLEHEHEHAHAHAHAHSE STOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHPP!!!”

The contrast between Izuku’s frantic struggling and the slowness and delicateness of Mirio’s touches was just beautiful, enough that the older student wondered if he’d just found his new favorite antistress. Lighter touches seemed to work just as well, if not better. That would make the machine very effective.

But he wouldn’t rest on his laurels, because when the fingernails ended their umpteenth descent, skipping slightly as they hit the ridges of Izuku’s ribcage before curving down the soft slopes of his sides, he began his ascent by squeezing at the flanks, massaging the area with his thumbs as he did so.

Izuku’s laughter instantly became lower-pitched, but also louder, a new gale spilling forth as he was blindsided by Mirio’s new technique. 

When he reached the base of the greenette’s ribcage, he laid off on the squeezing and let his thumbs do most of the work, digging in and massaging, causing Izuku to snort. Mirio lingered briefly on that spot just to get him to let out that adorable sound again, before proceeding to count each of his ribs in a rather torturous manner, and then back down, and up again.

“NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEH!!! HAHAHHAAH HAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Satisfied with his initial exploration, Mirio then began mixing and matching methods and spots, digging his thumb in Izuku’s floating ribs while squeezing his side, scratching at his ribs while lightly dragging his fingernails down his flank, sometimes using both hands on the same side of his body, just to constantly keep him guessing.

The uncertainty and ever-changing pattern made it impossible for Izuku to get used to the sensation. Through half-lidded eyes, he managed to see there were about 4 minutes left. He could do it!

And then he felt Mirio’s fingers in his armpits.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!!!”

Mirio smiled at the mirthful outburst. If Izuku reacted like that when his underarms were under fire, how would he react when Mirio would get to his hips? For the time being, however, he was perfectly content with driving the greenette up the wall by wiggling his fingers in the damp hollows, his scribbling motions light and quick since that seemed to be particularly effective.

And Izuku could attest to it. “HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! PLEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSEE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Three minutes.

Mirio kept it up for a few more moments before switching to massaging the hollows top to bottom with his thumbs, pressing gently but firmly, and though Izuku wasn’t as hysterical as before, there was no stopping the cyclical torrent of guffaws and spasms.

“It’s not as bad when I use my thumbs, right?” he asked.

Izuku would have preferred not to talk, but even if past experiences had taught him to answer his tickler, he still felt some kind of obligation toward the older student, so he forced himself to reply, “HIHIHIHIYEHEHEHEHEHEHESSS!!”

Mirio snickered at his own deviousness. Izuku would forgive him, he just had to do it. Time must have been almost up anyway.

“Good to know,” he responded before plunging his thumbs into Izuku’s hips, using the same massaging technique on the depression next to the bone and on his waist and V-line.

Izuku screeched. “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHEHEHEHEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAH!!”

He convulsed as if he’d been electrocuted, but the thumbs wouldn’t let go, so shrill, howling laughter exploded out of him. His shock of emerald hair flung droplets of sweat as he desperately shook his head in denial, a few landing on the display on Mirio’s forehead that kept ticking down. 1:43.

Even a few seconds in, Izuku’s laughter didn’t seem to subside at all. The poor guy was really ticklish. But Mirio wasn’t torturing him to have fun.

“Hey Midoriya, can you still hear me?”

“GHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! NEHEHEHEHEEHHEHEEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“It tickles a lot, doesn’t it?”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHHAAHAHKK!!! HAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHH YEEEEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHHA!!!!”

“Good! So the next time you throw yourself into the fray without regard for your well-being, remember this, because I’m going to do it again. Got it?”

“EEEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!! PL-PLEEEHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I need to hear you say it!” demanded Mirio as he started squeezing his hips rapidly.

Izuku’s eyes flew open, dripping ticklish tears down his cheeks. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHSSSSS!!! YEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Good.”

Mirio gave a few more squeezes before his fingers relented, slowing to a stop a few moments before the timer went off.

“You’ve made it through round 2! Very well done!” he cheered, but Izuku was too busy filling his lungs with hair to respond.

“It’s a great workout for your core, isn’t it?” asked Mirio as he patted Izuku’s stomach. 

The greenette winced, expecting Mirio’s fingers to curl and start tickling him again, but the upperclassman did no such thing.

“Whoa! Wat is that, some kind of manly endurance test?!”

Izuku felt a mixture of relief and horror when he noticed that two figures were standing on the threshold, and if the outline Izuku could make out through the mist of tears hadn’t been enough to identify one of them, his energetic, enthusiastic voice was unmistakable.

“I want to try it!!” beamed Kirishima, his whole face lighting up at the prospect of such a fun challenge.

“Hey, Tamaki! And you must be Kirishima, right?” asked Mirio, pausing the timer as he went to greet them. “This is supposed to be a punishment, but I can try asking Sir if you’d like.”

Izuku blinked the tears away and noticed Kirishima staring straight at him and the machine with awe, while Tamaki was doing his best to look at anything but Izuku, which made the supremely awkward meeting feel even more unbearable.

“I think y-you and t-this one have something in common,” stammered Tamaki in what may have been a tragic attempt at a quip.

“Hey Midoriya! How’re you holding up?”

Izuku nodded, muttering a feeble “F-fine.”

Mirio patted him on the head. “This champ has been going at it for twenty minutes. Only thirty to go!”

Kirishima’s eyes bulged as he did the math. “Fifty minutes?!”

He knew very well just how ticklish the greenette was, and the compassion and admiration he felt for him was bottomless.

“Think you could handle it?” asked Mirio.

Kirishima crossed his arms in front of his chest, instinctively protecting his sensitive upper body. “Good luck, Midoriya,” he wished somberly.

“Let’s leave him to rest, he’s earned it,” commented Mirio as he tried to move the conversation away from the disheveled greenette. “What brings you here?”

“Fatgum a-asked us to get case file TK-131. S-Sir Nighteye approved, he told us y-you’d be here.”

“That must be somewhere in the archive, I’ll help you find it! Have you been waiting long?”

This time it was Kirishima who replied. “Just a minute or two, we heard laughter inside and Suneater told me it was normal and to wait.”

Mirio smiled at his shy friend. “Good! The archive is downstairs, the door on the left, I’ll come help you out in a moment.”

Tamaki thanked him and led Kirishima away, but not before the redhead pumped his fist at Izuku to encourage him, while Mirio made his way back to Izuku.

“I have to help them for a little bit. Think you can handle the machine?”

At that stage, Izuku doubted that the machine’s fluffy appendages could be worse than Mirio’s strong and uncomfortably skilled fingers, so he was almost relieved to hear the offer.

“Great! I’ll just set it, give me a second… So, this would be the third round, so Level 3 it is… standard tools? Yes… 10 minutes… starting in 1 minute. Need a bathroom break?”

Izuku slowly worked his way through the words Mirio was saying to him, elaborating through a cloud of artificial giddiness. 

“S-Sorry you have to… do this on my… account,” he panted.

Mirio shook his head and retrieved Izuku’s bottle to let him drink. “You really have nothing to apologize for. But is it weird if I say I’m doing this because I agree with Sir?”

Izuku allowed himself to chuckle, his sore throat refreshed by the drink. 

“A little bit. But it’s not… so bad.”

Mirio smiled back, remembering only at that moment to remove the band from his forehead. “I’m going to go help them. And not like there’d be anything wrong with it, but we’re not going to hear you downstairs.” He winked and went after the Fatgum interns.

Izuku closed his eyes, trying to steady his breath and slow down his pulse. He could do it. It was just a workout. A very weird workout. And embarrassing, too. But Mirio’spersonality had the power to remove the sting of shame. For the most part. He could do it. He’d been through worse.

He took one last deep breath as the machine whirred to life. He eyed the lower set of openings, the ones of a height with his waist. It was just going to be a bit of fluff, he could take it. Fluff designed specifically to tickle him into submission. Even if that was true, it couldn’t be worse than a human with five fingers per hand!

But as the pink appendages emerged, looking like something in between foxtail spikes and miniature feather dusters, Izuku couldn’t help but notice that there were two per opening, and they immediately got to work, feathering his sides and his even more sensitive hips, from the bone to the waist of his trousers.

“Hehehehehahahahahahahahahaha!!! Hihihahahahahahahahaahahahahahaha!!! N-Nohohohahahahaha!!”

Izuku, and way too many people around him, knew he was feather ticklish. In fact, he could feel every little barb of each of the four appendages, coming together for an effect greater than the sum of their parts. It felt different from rougher forms of tickling, like it was calling on his skin to come alive, a teasing sensation that was just as intense as form of stimulation with more pressure, but for which laughing did not feel like a suitable outlet, causing him to dissolve into breathy, hiccuping giggles punctuated by the occasional snort - less loud, just as tortured, and, possibly, even cuter.

And just as Izuku started questioning whether he’d underestimated certain things, the machine powered up again, extruding two more pairs of fuzzy appendages that began to oscillate up and down his ribs and in his underarms. What a terrible time to find out that his armpits were just as receptive to soft tickles as his hips.

“Wahahahaahahahahahaihihihit!!!! F-Fohohohohouhuhur wehehehehehehre ehehehnOHOAHAHAHAHAHAHahahaahahahahahahahAHAHhHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!”

But Izuku was in for another disappointment, because amidst his thrashing and laughing, he didn’t notice a panel slide forward under his feet, and an additional four fuzzy appendages got to work on thoroughly tickling his soles from heel to toe, one pair largely focusing on his arch and instep, the other on the ball and the base of his toes.

No new ground was broken this time - Izuku already knew that his feet were also extremely feather sensitive.

“NEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! IHIHIHIT’S TOOHOHOHOHO MUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHHCCCHHH!!!”

And that was when he realized that no matter how much he begged, the machine wouldn’t relent, the machine wouldn’t stop. He was on the hook for the entire ten minutes. 10 minutes during which the fuzzy appendages would keep caressing his sides and ribcage, dancing in his underarms, following the defined line of his pecs and back into the sensitive hollows, slithering up and down and across his soles so no matter how much he scrunched or waved them, they’d never escape the tickles, torturously teasing his waist and hips, inevitable.

The specially designed fuzz wouldn’t warp from continuous contact with ticklish skin or by absorbing the moisture of the layer of perspiration it erected as a last defense, no, it would keep delivering surgically precise tickles for the entire time it had been programmed to, without mercy or emotion, the twelve swaying appendages like hands counting down the seconds, and Izuku the hysterical, overstimulated clock face.

It tickled so much and in such a teasing, penetrating way that Izuku couldn’t help fighting against the sensation, trying to distract himself by counting, telling himself it couldn’t be much longer, but the seconds stretched into minutes and the stimulation was overwhelming.

First he stopped thrashing, not because he’d run out of energy or wanted to save it, but because he’d accepted defeat. He wasn’t going anywhere. Once again, he could only embrace what was happening to him, trying to focus on the smaller part that felt pleasant rather than torturous.

Then he stopped begging, which he’d kept up not to convince anyone except himself, that there was something he could do to put an end to it, at least at first, then the pleas melded into a mantra, which was finally broken by the hiccups and snorts.

Finally, he let the tears roll down his cheeks freely, unencumbered by shame or delusions of control, cutting through the freckles and dripping down his neck, allowing the giddiness to consume him.

That was the state Mirio found him in, plus a multitude of hiccups, a minute or so after the machine stopped, having already sent Tamaki and Kirishima on their way.

“Well done! you’ve made it past the halfway point!”

Izuku was too busy huffing and puffing to reply, but accepted Mirio’s offer of another sip of water and declined a toilet break. 

“You know, I was a bit like you a few years back,” said Mirio, filling the silence while he allowed Izuku to recuperate. “I wanted to keep everyone safe. Except for myself, I guess.”

The greenette forced himself to look at Mirio.

“It’s like Sir said. If you die, you can’t save anyone else. Think of all the good you could do in the future.”

Izuku sighed. If only it were so easy. The Quirk he’d been given, All Might’s torch…

“But it’s not just that. I understand you want to prove your worth, but you aren’t just a hero. You’re a person. You have people who love you and a life to live to the fullest.”

That struck a chord within Izuku. How often had he worried that his classmates were putting too much pressure on themselves? That they - no, not even him - weren’t ready for that kind of responsibility yet?

“And if you want to be a hero, be a hero for as long as you can. You have to value your life and respect your body. Got it?”

Izuku thought he could hear echoes of All Might in the upperclassman’s words, and wondered if he’d ever given Mirio a similar speech. Maybe he wasn’t changing his priorities yet, but there was something to that opposing viewpoint, something he’d have to confront, because it came from someone who seemed to understand him.

The green bean swallowed the last of his hiccups to simply say, “T-Thanks.”

“Mull it over, ok? Now we just have to make sure it sinks in. Only two rounds left!”

Twenty minutes. The thought horrified Izuku. No. He wanted it to be over as soon as possible.

“Can… you do it… too?” he asked, pushing down his nervousness. “To… halve the… time.”

The only way out was through.

Mirio would have patted Izuku on the shoulder if the way he was restrained didn’t make it impossible. “A fine choice, Midoriya! No need to turn up the intensity either,” he replied as he programmed the machine.

“You ready?”

Izuku steeled himself, then nodded.

The machine started up again, the appendages instantly sending Izuku into a new fit of hysterics. 

“Hahahahahahahahaha!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“You’re a brave one,” said Mirio as he walked toward the guffawing greenette. “Now, repeat after me. My life is important,” he instructed as he started squeezing his knees again.

“HEhehehehhahahahahaahahahahaha!!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHNNT!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!”

“Sure you can!” urged Mirio while moving up to Izuku’s thighs, to give him an extra incentive. “My life is important!”

Izuku had convinced himself that with the machine already overwhelming his senses, Mirio’s touches would have lost some of their power. He was wrong.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! M-MYHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAA LIHIHIHHIFE IHIHIHHIS!!! IHIHIHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“You can do it!” said Mirio while kneading his thumbs into the muscle of Izuku’s thighs.

“IHIHIHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIMPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! IMPOHOHOHHAHAHAHAHARTHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHNTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!”

What Mirio was doing, reaching deep under the skin, tickled in a completely different way from the twelve - twelve! - mechanical foxtails writhing in all his most ticklish spots, so instead of diffusing each other, the sensations compounded to instantly make Izuku regret his decision.

“You’re doing great! ‘My health is important!’”

Mirio’s requests prevented him from sinking into the sensation, forcing him to remain present at all times.

It also didn’t help that Mirio had moved his right hand away from Izuku’s thigh and had started scribbling his fingers on Izuku’s lower stomach, causing Izuku to spasm and to let out a loud squeak.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!! NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“My health is important!” repeated Mirio without letting up in the slightest.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAPPP!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MYHIHIHHI HEHEHEHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHIHIS IHIHIHIMPOOOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHRT-TAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“I’ll take it. Now for the last one!” promised Mirio while his second hand joined the first in scratching and poking all over Izuku’s abs, more prominent than ever due to the intense workout they were receiving.

“EEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! EHEHEHEHEHHENAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAUUHGHGHGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH!!!”

“You’re almost there! ‘I am important.’”

“HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! IHIHHIAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHMMM!!! IMP-HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“Again!”

“IHIHIHIMPAPPAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! IHAHAHAHAM IIHIHIHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAAH!!! IAMIMPORHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!”

“Uh, your belly looks like a pretty ticklish spot too, uh?” observed Mirio while his ten fingers continued to wreak havoc on said ticklish tummy. “Fear no, I came prepared!” he assured, seemingly without considering that he could just stop tickling Izuku to let him speak.

Instead, he pulled a green marker out of his pocket, removed the cap, and started writing something across Izuku’s glistening chest. “I… aaaaaaammmm…. immmmpooorrrrtaaaaannnnnt!”

Unfortunately, the tip also happened to tickle Izuku terribly, and Mirio was dexterous enough that his left hand didn’t have to stop scratching at his belly while he went on writing, tracing over the most ticklish letters smudged by Izuku’s perspiration or that were rendered unreadable by his useless squirming, renewed by the sheer intensity of the double attack.

“What was the second one? Mmmmmyyyyyyyyyyy… heeeeaaaaallllth… iiiiisssss… iiiiimmmmpoooooo-impooooooortaaaannnnt!” he spelled out as he wrote the letters right under Izuku’s pecs, uncovering a new ticklish spot for the greenette.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH!!! MMMMIHIHIHHIRIOOOOOHOHOH!!! STAAAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHPPP!!” begged Izuku, throwing all formality out of the window.

“No can do, Midoriya! Myyyyyyyyyyy… llllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiffffffffeeeeee… iiiiiiisssss…”

He’d started writing across Izuku’s belly, dodging the rivulets that glistened in the abdominal creases, and if the green bean had hoped that would mean Mirio’s left hand would remain idle or return to a spot protected by his trousers, he was sorely disappointed as the ticklign fingers attacked the underside of his pecs.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!”

“Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmmmpoooooooooooooooorrrrtaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnt!” concluded Mirio, writing the “o” around Izuku’s bellybutton and circling it repeatedly before dipping the marker into the navel to color all around and inside it.

Mirio uncapped the marker, which gave Izuku enough bandwidth to remember just how awful the fuzz on his hips, soles, and in his underarms tickled, aided and abetted by the appendages still working over his ribs and sides.

“Good job, Midoriya! You’re almost done!” cheered Mirio as all ten of his fingers descended on Izuku’s defenseless tummy again.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHHAHHAHAHA!!! CAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHANNNTTT!!!”

“You can, I believe in you!” claimed Mirio while his fingers crawled up Izuku’s abs all the way under his chest, and then back down. 

“HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA!!! IHIHIHIT’S SOOOHOHOHO TIHIHIHICKLIIIIHIHIHISH!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! IHIHIH CAHAHAHAH!!! IIIII CAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHHAAA!!!”

Total meltdown. Izuku gave up, he had no choice but to, his mind melting into ticklish insanity as the machine lightly tickled his pits, ribs, sides, hips, and feet, seeming to make him even more sensitive to Mirio’s compassionate yet ruthless touches. 

He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, unsure whether Mirio was still talking to him or if his mind was clinging to anything to preserve its integrity, his lungs on fire, his senses overrun by the tickles, unable to see under his own damp curls and tears…

He felt his arms go limp, seemingly having slipped through the restraints. No. The machine had let him go. Neither it nor Mirio were tickling him anymore, even as he still felt the horrid fuzz demanding his ticklish atonement all over his body.

This time, Mirio was really talking to him. “...done for real. Congratulations!”

izuku gave a sheepish nod. Was it over? Was it really over?

“Shall I pick you up?” offered Mirio, and Izuku, tickled into accepting anything, nodded again without thinking.

He felt Mirio’s wiry arms lift him up without effort, and though he maybe should have felt embarrassed - not like his classmates wouldn’t pick him up just because they could - all he felt was safe and relieved.

Mirio gently deposited him on the office chair. “You might want to shower again,” he recommended as he pointed to the sentences written in green on Izuku’s upperbody. But the green bean primarily wanted his ticklish spots out of sight, so he put on his t-shirt anyway.

Mirio retrieved his shoes for him and helped him out, sneaking a few tickles to his sole. Izuku collapsed back into the chair in a fit of happy giggles, but he didn’t pull his foot away, because he could tell the upperclassman would stop immediately, and he did.

“Sorry we had to put you through all that,” said Mirio as he clasped the greenette’s hand to help him stand up.

“I… deserved it,” conceded Izuku, exhausted but also kind of happy. As far as punishments went, intense though it was, it seemed to create no hard feelings.

Mirio retrieved his own duffel bag and walked to the exit with him. “You know, if Sir punishes me tomorrow for lying, you might be able to get your revenge,” he said with a conciliatory chuckle.

Izuku giggled. No, it was ok… “I just… might take you up… on that,” he surprised himself saying.

[gabe-76]

Tickletober 2024- Day 4: Upside down (Dabihawks)

"Stop it, Dabi!"

"You can easily fly away, you're wanting this"

[tickly-giggles]

They're having a tickle fight~

[sallage]

Apologize

One Shots

Warning: This is an (intense?) tickle fic!

Summary: Kidnapped for ransom, Bakugo's captor desired a peaceful coexistence, but his own temper led to a loss of leniency, making his captivity… less tolerable.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler ? (OC)

Words: 2,989

Reading Time: 12 Minutes

A/N: I wrote this yesterday at 1 am so it might be whack but I was totally inspired by @wreckingtickles most recent fic, Say The Line, Bakugo! Hehehe Enjoy!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

“Fuck you, FUCK you, FUHUCK YOUUUU!” 

Spittle sprang from Bakugo’s mouth as one set of hands dug into the bottom of his stomach, right above the waistline of his shorts while a pair of writhing tendrils squirmed over the upper part, occasionally dipping teasingly over his quivering flanks. 

The tendrils seemed to have been shape-shifted hands, as they were connected to a pair of normal looking wrists, but he currently didn’t have the ability to make sense of it.

He glowered down at his powerful body with spiteful eyes as hands and tendrils pulled undignified sounds from his throat. 

His body was pulled taught in an X position on an oversized metal table with holes spaced a few inches apart, dotting either side of his limbs and outlining the length of his body. 

His hands were forced open, fingers trapped under custom made pieces of metal that curved around them like rings, preventing him from closing them into fists. 

A straight and horizontal pole jutted outwards from the holes placed along the edges of the table, parallel to his knees. It had the appearance of a slender clothing rack or rod, featuring a long indent running across the bottom and stretching over the entire length of the table. The pole stood a few feet above the flat surface, its purpose stumping the hysterical blonde.

His feet were bare with long soft strings woven around each of his toes which were attached to a strange, cog like machine that rested on a custom made shelf welded onto the table. Two machines were placed a few inches above both of his ankles.

He pushed his head back, and attempted to shift his body from side to side, despite how useless it was with how tightly he was restrained. 

A voice echoed throughout the large, presumably empty room.

“Are you gonna be nice to me now?” 

Bakugo writhed and growled, the pair of hands steadily squeezed and fluttered their nails all along his lower stomach, scratching at the sensitive spots above his hips and using all four nails to hold, scratch, and undulate across his sides.

“Count your fffffucking days, you dumbass! You’re gonna rr-regret this!”

Bakugo had woken up in the dark, unable to move and quizzically, unable to use his quirk. Before he could muster enough cognitive function to form a coherent thought, light dimly brightened his form, leaving the rest of the room shroud in darkness.

A voice informed him that he’d been kidnapped but no harm was to be inflicted. They both would wait patiently for the ransom money to arrive, then Bakugo would be released shortly after the person behind the voice was granted a generous head start.

Bakugo, of course, couldn’t just lay there without initiating some sort of provocation. 

As a result, he’d bite his bottom lip so hard it could split when random hands and tendrils shot out of holes on either side of his torso, automatically working his sides and belly. 

He shifted a few centimeters to the right when the hand on his left used their nails make infuriatingly ticklish grabbing motions at his flank, then shifted back to the left when nails on his right lazily did the same, trapping him in a weird interpretation of horizontal salsa. 

Tendrils writhed along the upper part of his stomach, each individual one spreading out to tease, pinch or wriggle against the heated skin, his black tee stripped before he’d woken up.

Bakugo exhaled loudly through his teeth, spit flying from his mouth. 

“An answer would be great!”

“Shut UPP!” He demanded, yelping not even a second later as both hands pinched the skin above his hips. 

“Yeeeesh, I’ll take that as a no.”

Bakugo sucked in a large breath when hands poked out of every other hole, staggering themselves along either side of his arms. 

A pair of hands were stationed at his hands, another by his forearms, another at his elbows, and another at his biceps. Each hand was holding a stiff feather, hovering threateningly.

Bakugo chuckled, more out of arrogance than from the ministrations of his tormentors. 

“You think fucking feathers are going to do shit to me, motherfucker?”

There was no response except for the hands, who used their fingers to maneuver the feathers, brandishing the quill instead.

Before Bakugo could release another string of obscenities, all of them started lightly scribbling, dragging, and swirling the quills all along the length of his arms. 

Bakugo spluttered, a strangled noise forced out of his throat. 

The points at his hands traced across the stretch of his fingers, taking turns scraping at each individual one while the other traced the creased lines of his palms. 

He tried desperately to use his quirk, but he couldn’t ignite a single spark.

Quills squiggled down the hardness of his forearms, drawing light cursive shapes up to his wrists, then softly and maddeningly drag them back down in tight zig zag motions.

The ones at his elbows attacked the sensitive inner part, while also branching out and swirling around to outline the skin above and below. 

And finally, quills traced and outlined the contours of the twitching muscles that made up his biceps. They teased all over the flexing muscles, lingering over the sensitive skin just above his armpits and using repetitive motions to outline the top rim.

Bakugo’s struggling increased, as did the volume of his instigations. He hatefully glared at the hands as they found sensitive spots all along his arms.

“How about neeeoooooww?” A pause. “You gonna be nice to me now?” 

Bakugo shook his head. “You- y- Geh!” He flinched and jolted, grinding his teeth in frustration, unable to even curl his hands into fists to expel some of the ticklish energy. 

“Geh- get these damned things- aH-ooffah me!” 

The quills posted at his biceps and hands were causing unexpected problems. They lightly teased at the skin above his pits, only occasionally lifting away to prevent desensitization. Every time they came back, he jumped and bit the inside of his cheek. 

The ones at his palms weren't any better. He couldn’t believe how the sharp scrapes and flicks made him writhe in mirthful frustration as they followed the creases that fanned out across the top, center and bottom of his palms. 

His scrunched face bore the resemblance of someone who’d stepped on a Lego after they’ve already stubbed their toe.

“What’s the magic wooooord?”

“J-jump ahahaff a fuckin’ bridge!” Bakugo spat, angry and strained veins visible and pulsing along his neck. 

“That was definitely more than one word. And none of them were magic.”

Startlingly, two grey medium sized balls resting on a short and skinny flexible rod popped out of the holes on either side of his neck, the hole being perfectly fitted by their circular base.

Bakugo jolted and pushed his face to the side, watching as the ball slowly spun around, revealing only one thing on its glossy surface.

A realistic looking mouth with a tongue lolling out of it like a dog.

“W-Whuh-” 

He was cut off when, like a bendable lamp, they craned down on either side and began kissing, licking, and nibbling along the sensitive skin. 

One nibbled a ticklish path up from the base of his neck, under his jaw, and just below his ear, while the other nipped and licked up and down his collar bones and the base of his neck.

They each attacked their respective spots, punching an embarrassing high pitched squeak out of Bakugo. He writhed and tried to shrink and scrunch his neck, but only managed to push the side of his face to his shoulder, which consequently left the other side open to a more precise attack.

“NeeyaHAHAhaha WHAhahat theha- NahaAHAHahah! f-fucking grohohoss! STAHahahahap!”

Bakugo was caught in ticklish limbo. He jerked his head from side to side, the action yielding not one second of relief. 

“Well, you told me to jump off a bridge! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Juhuhump AHAhahaff it!” Bakugo spasmed and pushed his hips the few centimeters that were allotted off the table, trying to get away from the prodding hands that tore his attention away when they veered off course and pinched his hips. He jolted with yell when tendrils squirmed and drew small, probing circles over the bottom of his ribs.

“That’s pretty bad advice. If I jumped off a bridge, then who would press this button?” 

Two claws erupted from the holes at the edges of the table, smoothly gliding up the metal pole. The indent allowed them to move effortlessly along the length, mimicking the motion of a makeshift claw machine. 

As they reached the position above his legs, the claws wavered momentarily before awkwardly attempting to pivot their five, hand-like pincers over his knees.

Bakugo's curses echoed loudly throughout the room as the claws painstakingly adjusted themselves, each movement slow and methodical, akin to an arcader angling a claw machine over a coveted prize, before slowly descending. 

Despite Bakugo's efforts to avoid the inevitable, his squirms and wiggles proved futile. With a final touch, they gently landed on his bare knees, their up and down jellyfish-like movements sending a wave of ticklish spasms through his legs.

Bakugo would have done a spit take if he was drinking… Well, anything.

“PPFFFTNhahahHAHA! oOOooh fahahk! AGHH Waah- NOHOHOHO!” That last "no" was punctuated with a guttural growl as the assault to his knees worsened, the claws now spinning and scratching over his convulsing skin. 

He was having so much trouble keeping it together, and none of these spots were overly ticklish in the first place.

Individually, at least.

“Y’know, I was okay with enjoying a quiet night while we waited for the pros to wire the money, Maybe share a laugh or two, but you couldn't go a single dang minute without insulting me.” 

The voice paused. The only sounds echoing in the room were of Bakugo’s struggles, restrained giggles, grunts, and huffs.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. If you apologize, I’ll pull everything. sound good?”

Bakugo shook his head, mostly out of mirth and perseverance as the mouths relentlessly attacked any open spot they could find.

 “Ihihih- AGHH! Ihihihm not ApohohoHAHAhlogizing to you, fuhcker! Eat shihihit!” 

A sigh of faux disappointment. 

“Alrighty then.” 

Two hands shot out of the holes on either side of Bakugo’s hips. His eyes widened.

“No! dohohnt you fuckin’- NOHOHOH, YOU FREHEHEAK!” 

Two hands, armed with massager guns, ran the vibrating, punching tips all over Bakugo’s pelvis.

They pressed the tools onto his hip bones and rounded to the sensitive spaces on top and underneath, even expanding to the quaking skin below his belly button and back again.

“OHO FUCK! SHIHIHIT! SHIT! STAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!”

“Apoooologize.”

“NOHOHOHOHO!”

"Okie."

Hands shot out of every hole along his thighs.

They bent and and squeezed along the pressure points above his knees, scribbled over the lower inner muscles, scritched all along the middle, moved up to tease the skin along the legs of his shorts, and pressed their fingers and thumbs into the tendons of his upper inner thighs. 

Despite the threat to his neck, Bakugo threw his head back, guffaws pumping out of him like an out of control fire hose.

“FFFFFAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAK! WHAHAHA! OH SHIHIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAP! AAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

“A! - P O L O! - G I! - Z E!”

The voice spelled out the word in a cheerleader chant, sounding like they were busting a move with each letter.

“FAHAHAHAK YOU!” Bakugo screamed, face cracked in half with ticklish glee.

“Woooooooooow, you’re a glutton for punishment, arent you? Dont worry, buddy, I got you.” 

Two hands shot up from the holes, one over each of his armpits. 

Bakugo blanched.

“NUH- NOHOHO! FUCK NO! DOHOHONT YOU FUCKIN’ DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO NONONONO!AHAHAHAHAHAH! WAAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHP! STOP STAHAP STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAP!” 

Bakugo absolutely lost it when the hands descended, pressing portable electric back massagers with rotating bristled feet against the center of his armpits, furthering the overwhelming sensations by rotating them slowly over the expanse of his slick, sweating hollows.

“GAHAHAHAHAHAD! AHAHAH! STOOOOOOP! STAHAHAHAHAP, YOU FUCKING BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

Bakugo thrashed against the restraints. His knees twitched, his hips bounced and his head whipped from side to side, up and down, spraying small droplets of useless sweat. 

“STAHAHAHHAP! GEHEHET THEM OFF! GEHEHET THEM- AHH! WHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! HAHAHOW MANY OF YOU FUHUHHUKERS ARE DOWN THEHEHEHERE?!” 

“You’re truly doing this to yourself, man.” 

Bakugo was too hysterical to pay attention to whatever nonsense they were spewing, his mind hell bent on getting the tickling to stop.

“YOU MOHTHERFUHCKER! STAHAHAHAHAHAP! ILLKILLYOU! ILL FAHAHAHAKING DRAG YOU OUT OF- AAAAH! NOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!” 

“Now you’re just being impossible.” 

“WHAHAHAHAHA WHAHA- WHOA WAIT! WAHAHAIT WAITWAITNOWAIT!” 

Bakugo helplessly thrashed as hands shot out of the holes on either sides of his ribs. 

A wide array of probes varying in length and size stuck out from a mechanical saucer like disc, attached on a rotatable silver ball on a short metal handle. The hands positioned the disk so the probes hovered menacingly over his ribs. 

To his absolute horror, the hands pressed a button on the side of the handle, and the probes whirled to life. Circling, jabbing, and wiggling in all different directions. The whole thing looking like some whack, tortuous hair diffuser.

“Aaaaaand~”

“NOHOHOHOHO! FUCK YOU! DONT! DOHONT YOU FAHAHAHKIN- WAIT! WAITWAITWAIT-"

The hands pressed the evil diffusers onto Bakugo’s ribs, the mechanical terrors covering most of the tortured blonde’s ribcage. 

“Touchdoooooown!” 

Bakugo threw his head back and arched his spine, a high pitched scream ripping out of his throat before the intensity turned it silent. 

“WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA————————————-————————————————!” 

His voice gave way to raspy desperation as he ran low on air, but had more than enough laughter to give. 

With a resentful scowl, Bakugo watched as chaos gripped his body, tormenting him with unforgivable precision.

He let out a frustrated, gravely scream and tossed his head back once more when the hands started moving the mechanical diffuser over the entirety of his reddening ribcage. 

He felt the little probes dig, wiggle, rotate and goose his skin, the sensation like a million marching ants frantically scattering all over him.

They moved again, settling at the top of his ribs. They pressed the saucer down so the protruding rim was flush against him. The moving probes sunk into his skin, torturing the nerves from top to bottom and between the bones.

“NAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA! OKAYSTOP! OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYYYYHAYHAYHAAAYYYSTOOP! STOPSTOPSTAAAAAAAAHAAAAHHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! I'M SHAHAHHARY! I'MFUCKINGSORRY! JUHUHUST- PFFFTTT! STAHAHAHAP! GEHEHAHAHAHA AHAHAHFF HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GEHEHEHEHEHEH IHIHIT- AAHH——————��—————————————————————————-“

“Hmmm, I dunno. You’ve been really mean to me since you woke up. For like, no reason.”

“WAHAHAHHAHAHAHAT?! FAHAHAH- I FAHAHAHHAAKIN SAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH———————- I SAIHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAH—————ISAIDIWASSAHHRY!”

“Yeah sure, but you really hurt my feelings. I might need some time to really think about it.” 

“OHOHOH MAAHAHAGAHAHAHD!! SHIT SHIT SHHIHIHIT! AAAAHHHH! NAAAHH FAHAHAHK YOU! YOUFUCKINGPIECEOFSHIT! ILLFUCKINGMURDER- NOOOHOHOHOOOOOO! FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUUHUHUHU! STAHAHAHAP THIHIHIS! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA————HAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

“See, why would you say all that when I’m trying to forgive you?” A loud sigh. “I guess you’ll just have to lay there and think about why that wasn't a good idea.” 

Two pairs of hands shot out from the holes on either side of his feet. 

Through his uncontrollable tears, he saw his life flash before his eyes.

“NO! NOHOHOHOHO WAAHAHAHIT! I'MSORRY! IM FUCKING SAHAHAHAHRY! PLEHEHEHESE! PLEASE DOHOHOHONT! DOHOHOOOOOOOONT!” 

Two hands on either side held oval shaped wet-hair detangling bushes while the others were adorned with grooming gloves.

He expected them to attack, but was caught off guard when the mechanical cog devices over his ankles whirled to life. He could only shake his head as the string looped around his toes went minimally slack, only for all of them to start threading through his toes.

“WAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOHOHOHOH FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!! HOLYSHIT! FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA————-HAHAK! PLEASE! PLEHHEEEE———"

“Don’t worry, I’ll try you again in an hour or so. Then we can revisit your attitude problem. Ciao!”

“WHAHIT! WHAITWAITPLEASEDONT-”

The hands struck.

The grooming glove scrubbed and waved vigorously at the top of his foot, scrubbing and scratching at the sensitive balls and undersides of his toes. The wet hair brush took care of the rest, brushing wildly against the arches, heals and the sides of his feet. The other foot wasnt better off, dealing with the same ministrations but in opposite positions. 

At some point, a hand popped up behind his head, equipped with a flexible metal pronged head massager that to the blonde’s utter bewilderment, tickled like hell and sent goosebumps roaring all along his skin.

Pushing his head up only maneuvered the massager to slink its torturous prongs down the back of his neck, up the back of his head, and behind his ears. Which was arguably, so much worse. 

So he forced his head down, in control of it for about two seconds before he lifted it up again in mirth, the sloppy kisses, licks and nibbles from the mouths never ceasing their unrelenting attack.

Amongst all the calamity, he jumped out of his skin when he felt hands tracing and scratching up and down his spine and along the outer edges of his lower back. His eyes widened in painful disbelief as he realized there were holes underneath the ungodly table.

His back, sides, and hamstrings were targeted from below, successfully clouding his comprehension of reality.

All he could do was take it,

“WHOOAAAHOHOHOHOMYFUCKING GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD! PLEASE! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEMAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAP! MAKETHEM STAHAHAHAHAHAHP IMFUCKING SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRY! IMSOFAHAHAKINGSORRY!"

And laugh,

“PPFFFTTNAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—————————-ICANTFUCKINGDOTHIS! OHMYGAD I CHAHAHAHNT! ICANT! OHOHOHOHOOO, I CAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA--------!"

And laugh,

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! WHOOAAAHAHAHAHAHA! KAHAHAHAH! WAAAHAHAHAH! PLEEEHEHE—————HEHEHEHEHEHE———————HEHHESE! AHAHAHA——————! FAAAAAA———————HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” 

And laugh.

"H-----------HAH---------------! AAHHH-------------------HAHAHAHAHHAA! FAHA---------------------! PLE--- PLEHE------------------!"

Bakugo’s mind rolled. His red, raw, and sweaty body buzzed with electricity as the tools glided across his abused skin with ease. 

He wailed and apologized, cursed and thrashed, but none of it was enough. 

More often than not, his laughter turned silent, reminding him that he would continue to lie there, forced to take it for the next hour, completely at the mercy of his own damn sensitivity.

[xxtheophilusxx]

Sparks and Laughter: A Bakugo-Todoroki Tale

Summary: A playful interaction between Todoroki and Bakugo leads to an unexpected and amusing turn of events, revealing a new side to their rivalry and strengthening their bond. Warnings: Tickling Word count: 1.3k

The morning sun filtered through the dorm room blinds, casting warm, golden rays across the common area floor. It was a rare, peaceful moment at U.A. High School, with classes behind them and the students relishing their downtime. Katsuki Bakugo and Shoto Todoroki found themselves sharing the space, each absorbed in their own world. Bakugo lounged on the couch, his intense red eyes fixed on his phone, scowling at whatever caught his attention. Todoroki, a few feet away, was seated in an armchair, his book resting lightly in his hands, his expression calm as ever.

Despite the quiet, there was an undercurrent of tension in the air. It was almost a given with Bakugo around; his presence had a way of charging any room with a certain energy. Yet Todoroki, with his cool composure, never seemed fazed by Bakugo’s fiery personality.

But today, something different stirred in the air. Todoroki’s eyes lifted from his book, glancing over at Bakugo, who was completely engrossed in his phone. A mischievous thought flitted through Todoroki’s mind, one that was as unexpected as it was intriguing. The idea of seeing Bakugo—explosive, always-on-edge Bakugo—react to something as lighthearted as a tickle sparked a rare curiosity in him.

Setting his book aside, Todoroki shifted in his seat, moving quietly closer to Bakugo. The explosive hero-in-training remained oblivious, too focused on his phone to notice Todoroki’s approach. With a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, Todoroki reached out, his fingers lightly brushing Bakugo’s side in a quick, playful motion.

Bakugo’s reaction was immediate. His body went rigid, and he whipped his head around to glare at Todoroki. “The hell do you think you’re doing, Icy Hot?” he growled, his voice low with suspicion.

Todoroki met Bakugo’s glare with an innocent expression, though the amusement in his eyes gave him away. “Just curious,” he said, and before Bakugo could snap back, Todoroki’s fingers darted out again, this time with more intent.

The contact was fleeting, just a light tap on Bakugo’s ribs, but it was enough. Bakugo jerked back, a startled laugh bursting from him before he could catch it. “Hah! What—” His eyes widened in surprise, a mix of shock and irritation flashing across his face.

Todoroki’s smile grew a little wider. “So, you’re ticklish?”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed, but before he could unleash the retort brewing on his tongue, Todoroki struck again. This time, his fingers found Bakugo’s ribs with more accuracy, drawing a louder, more genuine laugh from him. “Hah—haha! Stop it!” Bakugo barked, twisting away as if the tickles were as deadly as a villain’s attack.

“Cut it out, damn it!” Bakugo demanded, though his voice wavered with the laughter he was desperately trying to contain. Todoroki, however, wasn’t in the mood to listen. He kept at it, his fingers dancing along Bakugo’s sides, delighting in the rare sight of Bakugo squirming and laughing.

It was surreal—Katsuki Bakugo, the volatile, no-nonsense hero-in-training, reduced to a writhing, giggling mess. “Hahaha—hah! Get off—hahaha!” His attempts to swat Todoroki’s hands away were half-hearted, his strength sapped by the unexpected tickles that kept pushing him to the edge of laughter. Todoroki, usually so stoic, found a certain joy in watching Bakugo’s tough exterior crumble under something as simple as a tickle attack.

Bakugo’s laughter was raw and unfiltered, completely at odds with the tough image he usually projected. “Hahaha! I swear—hahaha—Todoroki—” His cheeks flushed red, both from the exertion and the embarrassment of being caught off guard like this. His breath came in short, uneven gasps as he struggled to regain his composure, but Todoroki wasn’t ready to let up just yet. He continued his playful assault, his fingers skimming over every ticklish spot he could find with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

Finally, when it seemed like Bakugo was on the verge of either collapsing from laughter or exploding in a fit of rage—maybe both—Todoroki relented. He pulled back, his hands retreating as he leaned casually against the couch, his expression as serene as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Bakugo, panting heavily, shot Todoroki a glare that could have melted ice. His hair was even more disheveled than usual, and his pride was clearly bruised. “You’re dead, Icy Hot,” he spat, though the threat was dampened by the breathlessness in his voice.

Todoroki simply shrugged, unfazed. “You needed to loosen up,” he said, as if that explained everything.

Bakugo opened his mouth to retort, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he let out a frustrated huff, turning away with a scowl, his fingers still twitching as if the sensation of Todoroki’s tickling lingered. Todoroki, satisfied that his little experiment had been a success, picked up his book and resumed reading, his demeanor calm and collected once more.

But Bakugo wasn’t about to let this slide. As Todoroki’s focus shifted back to his book, Bakugo’s scowl morphed into a devious smirk. If Todoroki thought he was going to get away with that, he had another thing coming.

Silently, Bakugo leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he sized up his opponent. Todoroki was still engrossed in his book, unaware of the impending payback. With a sudden, swift movement, Bakugo lunged forward, his hands shooting out to grab Todoroki’s sides.

Todoroki’s reaction was priceless. His book tumbled to the floor as he jerked in surprise, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. But Bakugo wasn’t going to give him a chance to recover. His fingers dug into Todoroki’s sides, moving with the same ruthless precision he used in battle.

“Gotcha now, Icy Hot!” Bakugo growled triumphantly, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Todoroki’s usually composed face twisted in shock as he tried to wriggle free. “Bakugo—wait—hah!” A laugh, uncharacteristic and almost boyish, slipped out before he could contain it. Bakugo’s grin widened at the sound.

“Oh, you’re ticklish too, huh? Let’s see how you like it!” Bakugo’s hands moved faster, finding every sensitive spot he could reach. Todoroki squirmed, his breath catching between laughs as he tried, and failed, to fend off Bakugo’s relentless assault.

“Hah—stop—haha!” Todoroki’s laughter bubbled up, his usually calm demeanor completely shattered. He twisted in Bakugo’s grip, but the explosive blonde held firm, clearly enjoying the turn of events far too much.

“Not so cool now, are ya?” Bakugo teased, his tone playful but with a hint of vengeance. He continued tickling Todoroki without mercy, relishing the rare opportunity to see the normally stoic hero so undone.

Finally, when Todoroki’s laughs had turned into breathless gasps and his attempts to escape had grown weaker, Bakugo relented. He pulled back, letting Todoroki slump back into the couch, breathless and flushed.

Bakugo crossed his arms, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s what you get for messing with me.”

Todoroki, still catching his breath, managed a faint smile. “Fair enough,” he admitted, his voice slightly hoarse from laughter. “I guess I deserved that.”

Bakugo huffed, clearly pleased with himself. “Damn right you did.” But despite the tough words, there was a lightness in his tone, a rare sense of camaraderie that hadn’t been there before.

As they both settled back into their seats, the tension that had once filled the room was gone, replaced by a newfound ease between them. Bakugo, still wearing a smirk, glanced over at Todoroki, who was now eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and amusement.

“You better watch your back, Icy Hot,” Bakugo said with a grin. “Next time, I won’t be so nice.”

Todoroki chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With the playful banter still lingering in the air, they returned to their own activities, but the atmosphere between them had undeniably shifted. What started as a lighthearted moment had turned into an unexpected bonding experience, leaving both of them with a deeper, albeit unspoken, respect for each other. And though neither of them would ever say it out loud, they both knew this wouldn’t be the last time they’d test each other’s limits—in more ways than one.

[giggly-agenda]

he's sooo close !

do you think he'll get the right answer ?

[gaybananabread]

Could I get lee!dabi and ler!hawks for day 28? <3

TickleTober Day 28 - Spooked

~Ehehe my bois! These two will always be one of my favorite ships to write; it’s so fun with their dialogue! Been a hot sec, so I’m sticking to the character attributes I remember. Dabi’s got his black hair and patchwork chest, and Hawks has his wings. Thank you for requesting, and I hope you Enjoy!~

Lee: Dabi

Ler: Hawks

Summary: Dabi decides to spook his boyfriend with a “harmless” prank. Hawks doesn’t appreciate his sense of humor, teaching the crispy-fried villain a lesson he won’t soon forget.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

“I’m home, Dabs!” Hawks bumped his hip against the janky door of the villain’s apartment, sighing as it stuck once again. He’d really have to get on his ass about moving in with him…

“Uh…why’s it so dark?” The winged hero felt like he was talking to himself as he looked around, fumbling for the light switch. It was in such a weird place; he could never find it, and that was with the lights on.

A thump sounded from Dabi’s room, making Hawks’s eyes narrow. That wasn’t normal…

Two feathers came off his wings, hovering beside him as he slowly approached the door. He was in full hero-mode, the familiar feeling of adrenaline creeping into his veins almost putting him at ease.

When he reached the door, he sent the feathers towards the thumping noise, only to find them…sticking out of the top of a Roomba. A very sad and confused little Roomba that kept bumping into the wall, hence the thumping.

“What the fu-”

“AAAUGH!”

Hawks let out his own scream at the deep-throated howl that came from behind him, whirling around to strike the offender. His wrist was easily caught, though instead of a bullet to the ribs or stab to the heart, he was met by the cheeky grin of his boyfriend.

“Ha! Holy fuckin’ shit, birdy! I didn’t think it’d get you that bad!” Dabi’s teeth were showing in an uncharacteristically gleeful smile, his eyes glowing with amusement. “Thought you hero types were supposed to be brave and all that.”

“You…” The blonde’s brain took a moment to catch up, the adrenaline in his system still addling his thoughts. Dabi had turned out the lights, set the Roomba, and… “You asshole! What if I’d stabbed you?!”

“But you didn’t. Actually, you stabbed the Roomba. Poor lil’ guy.” Dabi nudged the thing with his foot, watching as it shifted back and forth on the carpet. Hawks had definitely damaged it, but hadn’t completely broken it. It was just stuck in a sad little shuffle.

“I didn’t mean to- since when did you have a Roomba?” Hawks asked incredulously, looking around the apartment. The floor was kinda clean for once, save for the random shirt or sock here and there.

“Found it.” Dabi snickered at the look that earned him. “What, the guy was a dick! He was scammin’ people the whole morning.”

“Damn it, Dabi,” Hawks sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. No matter how terrible of a person the guy was, he shouldn’t have been stolen from. Unfortunately, the machine wasn’t exactly in peak condition anymore. “Can’t really return it now…”

“Oh no, so sad.” Dabi’s monotone snark really let Hawks know he regretted his actions. Not. “You should’ve seen your face, Keigo. Adorable~”

“Proud of yourself, are you?” Hawks’s voice dropped an octave, making Dabi’s grin falter slightly. Maybe he’d gone a little far, but…well, he really didn’t regret it. It was fun as hell to spook him.

“Yep. I always knew you were a chicken~”

Oho, that’s it, you shithead!

Hawks lunged at his boyfriend, making the man jump back. He landed on his bed, the bird quickly jumping down on top of him. After a quick tousle, the winged hero had him pinned, a dangerously playful glare on his face.

“Damn! You really are an adrenaline junkie, ain’t ya?” Dabi smirked up at him, puffing his chest out a bit. Even when he was stuck beneath someone, he managed to dominate the situation.

“Shut up.” The tone of his lover’s voice immediately shut him up, leaving the burnt boy blinking in surprise. Hawks shifted, forcing the man’s arms above his head. “You like laughing at me so much? Try laughing at yourself.”

“H-hey, Keigo, wait a min- GRK!” Dabi jolted as the winged hero targeted his navel, immediately attacking the unburned area that he knew damn well was ticklish as hell. The man lasted a grand total of five seconds before he broke.

“FUHUHUCK YOUHUHUHU!” The villain thrashed and tugged on his arms, trying to get free of his boyfriend’s evil grip. He was really regretting wearing such a thin shirt…

“We could’ve just cuddled when I got home, but noooo. Someone had to be a little asshole and scare me.” Hawks didn’t stop the scolding as he tickled him, leaning in so the ravenette could hear him over his own laughter. “You brought this on yourself.”

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!” His taunt stomach quivered as he laughed, sure to be sore later during training. He really didn’t have a good comeback for the man; he wasn’t wrong, but there was no way Dabi was gonna admit it.

“No thanks. You learn best when you’re forced to.”

A thought popped into Hawks’s mind, making him smirk. Teaching him was a good idea, actually. He lifted his hand from the man’s stomach, instead sending two feathers to trace along his collarbones. Dabi’s unruly laughter slowly died down to airy giggles at the tactic change, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I’m gonna ask you some questions, babe. Try not to get them wrong.” Hawks flexed his fingers menacingly before speaking again, the feathers never stopping their gentle teasing. “Is it okay to steal from someone, even if they’re being a dick?”

“I-ihihin the rihight cihircumstahance, yeheah.” Dabi answered with his honest opinion, knowing it would piss the bird boy off. He was digging his own grave, but he was doing it with style. At least, he felt like he was.

“Bzzzt! Wrong, jackass. The correct answer was ‘No, beautiful, it’s not.’” Hawks dug his fingers back in as he made the buzzer noise, giving Dabi’s navel a good knead.

“C-COHOHOCKY BAHASTAHARD!” Dabi arched his back off the bed, though he was quickly pushed back down by Hawks’s elbow. He really wasn’t playing around…

After a nice two-minute penalty, Hawks tried asking a different question. “Let’s try this one. Is it okay to scare the living daylights out of our boyfriends who take down bad guys for a living?”

Dabi bit his lip as he giggled, panting slightly. It would be in his best interest to answer wisely, but… Well, Hawks didn’t lose control often. He wanted to see what would happen if he pushed that little bit too far.

“Hehell yeah. Ehespecially whehen thehey’re adohohorable lihittle chihicken- GYAAAAHAHAHA!”

The smug retort was cut off by a loud and ridiculous sound. Hawks blew a raspberry – a fucking raspberry – on his navel, nearly sending the burnt man into silent laughter. Curse his damn sensitivity!

Just to really make sure the lesson made it through his boyfriend’s thick head, Hawks blew a few more little ones across his stomach. By the time he was done, the unburned crests of Dabi’s cheeks were practically glowing with a blush, his eyes half-lidded. Hawks thought it was beautiful, taking a mental snapshot.

“One more chance.” The feathers resumed their tracing, swooping across the spent man’s collarbones once again. The sleepy giggles nearly made Hawks melt, but he held strong. “Was it a good idea to scare me like that, especially when you had to steal to do it?”

“N-nohohoho…” Dabi’s resolve had been thoroughly broken, his weary body lying still as the feather grazed across his skin. It was actually sort of relaxing, the soft compared to the rough.

“There ya go. Good job,” Hawks cooed, petting his exhausted boyfriend’s head as he settled down. If he were fully awake, Dabi would no doubt be taking his revenge; he wasn’t, though, his clingy side showing with the grogginess.

Dabi wrapped his arms loosely around Hawks as the man lied down, nuzzling his face into his soft hair. It smelled faintly of his vanilla shampoo, though he was much too tired to tease him about the scent. Instead, he sighed and closed his eyes, letting the warmth of his lover seep into his bones. A moment later, he felt Hawks’s wings extend, draping over them like a weighted blanket. So tired…

“Love you, KFC…”

“Love you too, you burnt chicken nuggie.”

[feathergail]

Lee Dabi please I beg you 🙏🙏🙏

those are hawks’ feathers btw ❤️

[sleepysheepytea]

*WARNING FOR INTENSE N SLIGHTLY SPICY TKS*

Heavily inspired by @wreckingtickles iconic lee Baku fics (this one’s specifically inspired by the auction ones teehee)

Haven’t drawn lee Baku in a while so I’m quite happy hjsdfhkjgb

[gingerlee-holds]

I feel bad for popping a request in ☠ anyway

If you're feeling up to it, perhaps ler Todoroki x lee Reader (bc me and reader insert are inseparable /j) from MHA? Length, perhaps 900+ words if possible? But I'll be grateful for anything haha, I also don't want to force you to write more if you're not feeling inspired i'm gonna be honest here I haven't watched MHA in a long time ☠ and I have no idea what scenarios would be realistic because he's,, Todoroki,,

Personally i'm a sucker for evil/more intense tickles because I wish I was ticklish but if that makes you uncomfy do feel free to ignore :)

oh hush, you!!! i love requests, so thank you so so much!! i just hope this is somewhat what you wanted heehee- enjoy!!! i have a huge crush on this dork so that creeps in- also the reader's quirk is whatever you want it to be, cuz its not mentioned- also also!! im really really sorry if i fuck the names up cuz from what i know of the show, Todoroki is the family name, so Shoto is the given name but i could be totally wrong

i just wanna say that i really really like writing the rambly bits from Shoto about the book-

the reader is sorta a brat lol

Like Poetry

Words: 2,334 Pairing: Ler!Shoto, Lee!Reader Warnings: lotta fluff!!! not proofread!!!

You groaned as you entered the common room. Mr. Aizawa’s personal training was brutal today, and you were not looking forward to feeling how sore your muscles would be tomorrow morning. Sighing, you grabbed one of Sato’s cupcakes from the counter and flopped onto the sofa, confident it would be unoccupied. It was about seven in the evening on a Friday, which meant everyone was either in their rooms or somewhere around town. 

You huffed into the mattress before gasping at the sound of a page being turned. Looking up, you saw you were about a foot away from, in your mind, the strongest student in your class. He was sitting with perfect posture, reading a book with yellowed pages. On the coffee table sat a mug filled with tea.

Shoto Todoroki didn’t look up from his book at you. If he knew you were there, he didn’t show it. He silently read, seemingly fully absorbed. You sat upright, shaking off the embarrassment of almost landing on him, of all people. 

You cleared your throat and gobbled up your cupcake in one bite, setting the wrapper down next to his tea. Still, he didn’t move. Raising an eyebrow, you poked him in the side to get his attention, and the surprised gasp he gave made you giggle. Shoto looked at you, brow furrowed in annoyance, but his face soon softened when you smiled and waved.

“Hi!” you said chipperly. 

He nodded politely in return. “Hello, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t hear you.”

With a chuckle, you shoved his shoulder. “No worries! Whatcha reading, bookworm?”

Shoto tilted his head. “I’m not a worm.”

You sighed and repeated your question without the tease. You loved that your classmate was so adorably literal. 

“I’m reading this book of old poetry. I don’t remember where I got it - it feels like my family’s always had it lying around. I decided to read it today since everyone’s out.” His voice was calm as he spoke.

You were somewhat interested in the subject but mostly just wanted to hear him talk some more. It was so rare that he spoke. “Anything good in there?”

“I found this one that I liked,” Shoto said before flipping back a few pages. “Rain on lemongrass. / Ash trees weep o’er their lost sun: / Their light and love, gone.”

The poem made you hum in thought. “What’s it about?”

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” he asked. Taken on its face, it was an insulting question, but you knew Shoto was genuinely unsure whether to explain it. You shook your head in reply. “The poem is about heartbreak. A woman falls in love with someone, and suddenly, that person has to leave. The woman feels like she has nothing left as she cries into a world that has bigger concerns than her. Soon, perhaps, her love shall return, the sun re-emerging from the clouds, but there’s also the possibility that she doesn’t last until then, and the wind blows her over. Ash trees symbolize grief, so perhaps they may never meet again. The lemongrass, evoking a cheerful memory, is smothered under the rains that hide her beloved.” Suddenly, he looked up from the page. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was rambling.”

You scratched your head. “How did you get all that from just three lines?” You didn’t mind, of course. He was cute when he rambled. To your great surprise, he let out a soft and sheepish smile. 

“Well, I suppose I have too much time on my hands,” he said, looking away. You smirked and poked his side again, giggling at his surprised reaction. Shoto let out a muffled yelp and jumped, glaring at you suspiciously and rubbing his side. “Quit that.” 

“Sorry, Icy-hot! Can’t be helped!” You held up both your hands in mock surrender.

“Hm,” Shoto mumbled, looking back to the book. “This book was written entirely by hand. See? This character is slightly different here, here, and here,” he continued, pointing at different parts of the page. “And from what I can tell, its publication predates quirks, hence why they are not mentioned. If they had quirks, you would think there’d be a suggestion of their existence, no? Yet there’s nothing. For all intents and purposes, it seems like this book is a remnant of a simpler world.” His expression looked distant as if his mind were a hundred miles and years away. 

You leaned back, folding your arms behind your head. “Sounds dorky. Maybe you should tell Deku! I’m sure he’d be all too interested,” you chuckled, then looked over. If he heard your comment, he gave no sign. He must still be lost in thought. Looking down at his side, you saw it was perfectly exposed. You were pushing your luck. Then again, what is a hero if not someone who tries their luck? You pursed your lips together and quickly extended your hand to poke Shoto’s side again. 

But he was faster. As if expecting your reckless act, he set his book down and grabbed your hand before it made contact in one fluid movement. “You don’t listen, do you?”

“I do my utmost to avoid doing that, yes,” you said, giggling nervously. His grip was firm, giving you no delusions of escape. His hand was chilly, as if Shoto was threatening to encase your whole arm in ice at any moment. You tugged slightly.

He didn’t let go. “No, you need to learn this lesson.” Somehow, that was among the scariest things you’ve ever heard, right alongside the speech of the hero killer and Mr. Aizawa announcing an extra homework assignment before the summer break. Shoto pushed your legs toward the end of the couch, pinning you to his chest with both hands held behind you. You shuddered as Shoto said, “Now, learn well.”

Since both your hands were stuck behind you against his torso, you couldn’t defend yourself whatsoever when he descended both hands onto your stomach. You erupted into bright, bubbly laughter and kicked your feet like that would do anything to help. All that went through your head was repeated, ‘Oh, fuck, that tickles!’ 

You heard Shoto’s hum of approval from behind you as he clawed his fingers over the thin fabric of your shirt. “Interesting,” he mumbled to himself. 

“ShIhihihihIt! ShohOhOHohotoHoHoho!” You shook your head and thrashed all you could, but it didn’t matter. Shoto was stronger, and he would make sure you knew it. 

“Yes, Y/N?” he asked casually.

“STohohoHOAhaap!!” It didn’t have a chance of working, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“No.” Shoto’s clawed hands squeezed around your stomach in circles, taking a moment to dwell on your extra-ticklish lower stomach, which he took delight in exploiting. If you didn’t know any better, you would even say he enjoyed it as much as you were. 

“NohOHoHOhoHT TheheHEherre!” you pleaded helplessly, throwing your head back to give your torturer the best puppy eyes you could… although they were far less effective than you had hoped since they were quickly squeezed shut in uproarious laughter. 

“Here? Right here, yes?” Shoto released a flurry of pokes on your lower stomach as if he wanted confirmation.

You nodded and hiccupped, doing all you could to contain the blush that bloomed on your face at the sound of his cooing hum. Mercifully, he gave you a break, and you panted for breath against him. “Shihihitt…” you giggled, squirming in his grasp to get the ghost tickles off your tummy. 

“Here,” Shoto said, and you turned to see he was holding up his mug for you. Gratefully, you took a big sip of the refreshing tea, smiling a little at the warmth of it. It was strangely sweet; you had expected Shoto to only like the bitter teas, but surprisingly, the flavor was somewhat sugary. As if reading your mind, Shoto said, “It’s chamomile. It helps me relax.” He took the mug from your mouth and set it back on the table. 

Shoto cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “Have you learned your lesson?”

“Is my release dependent on how I answer that?”

“Yes.”

“Then… Never!” You madly giggled as you attempted to escape his grasp before quickly regretting it. He had you suitably pinned, and to further reinforce his lesson, you realized with terror that he was rolling up your shirt to your ribs. “Wait, Shoto-!”

Your tormentor didn’t give you time to finish. Without fanfare, his hands descended onto your exposed tummy. Instead of clawing around, as he had done before, he was using quick scribbles, which, coupled with his cold fingers on your bare skin, was maddening. 

“SHohOhoHOTO!” You had no idea you were so ticklish! By the looks of things, it seemed like he had been in tickle fights before, and from how badly he was wrecking you, he was used to winning them. 

He hummed in thought as your thrashing weakened. “Your belly button is incredibly ticklish,” he observed. It was, to your dismay, very accurate. It didn’t help that his cold finger was heightening the feeling!

“PLehEHehEHHEase! MeheHEheheercyy!” you squealed out, kicking and bucking like a horse.

“Goodness, you’re dramatic. It’s only tickling, Y/N. If anything, this should build your endurance. What if the League captured you? I doubt you’d last a minute before you spill everything you know if they knew this weakness of yours.”

Why did he have to be so monotone with his teasing? He sounded so casual as if he were still explaining the history of that old book - only he was speaking over your hysterical cackling. He was a fast learner, too: he was pretty adept at locating the spots that got an especially wild reaction out of you and cruel in punishing them.

Shoto’s fingers increased in pace while always keeping one wiggling about in your navel. “I know,” he said, “I get it; you’re very, very ticklish. Now calm down.” You could hear the smile in his voice. He was having fun! “I wonder… you’ve inspired me to write my own poetry! Let’s see…” He paused to think, unfortunately not slowing down the tickles, making you yelp and shriek. “Ticklish cutie / Squealing on the couch with glee / With a cute tummy,” he slowly said as if writing it down. With a gasp, you felt him do just that, writing down the poem on your belly with the tip of his fingernail. 

You turned beet-red as you threw your head back, your laughter turning silent. You had long since begun crying with delight, and tears rolled down your cheeks in rivers, but he didn’t stop until you started coughing. With a chuckle, he released you, and you panted for breath. You didn’t move from his lap, and Shoto didn’t seem to mind. He gently placed a hand on your forehead, tilting it toward him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently. You nodded with a smile, which he returned. His smile was inviting, like a sunbeam on a winter’s day. He slowly helped you sit back up and handed you his mug again. You eagerly gulped it down. The tea was warm and sweet, and when you finished it and set it back on the table, you realized that Shoto wasn’t too different. 

“Thank you, Shoto,” you said softly.

“For the tea?”

“Yes,” you replied, “and… for the tickles. It… helped me unwind.” You looked away and rubbed your neck shyly. 

“You’re welcome, Y/N. It was fun for me, too. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” He smiled again, a small treat like candy. “It’s nice to see you so carefree. You’re usually a ball of nerves,” Shoto admitted bluntly, making you sigh and nod in agreement. 

You basked in the silence for a bit before both of you suddenly looked up. That was the unmistakable sound of… And right on cue, the word ‘mumble’ began to figuratively float across your field of view. At its origin, you and Shoto saw Izuku madly scribbling in his notebook and mumbling about something. You swore you caught the words “ticklish,” “stomach,” and “squeals.” 

Behind Izuku, standing in the hallway, were Ochaco, Denki, Tsuyu, Mina, Eijiro, and Kyoka. The first two desperately attempted to quiet Izuku, to no avail. You sat bolt upright, glaring at the unwelcome audience. 

Eijiro broke the silence with a playful swat to the back of Izuku’s head. “You got us caught with your nerd shit, Deku,” he joked, making the green-haired hero look away backfully. 

“That was adorable!” Mina grinned, pointing at you. “You made a bunch of noise, so we wanted to check it out!” 

“You’d better erase what you wrote, Deku.” You spoke calmly but in a way that gave no misapprehensions about your seriousness. 

Ochaco looked over Izuku’s shoulder. “Doesn’t look like he’s gonna do that.”

“Midoriya,” Shoto spoke up. “Be sure to write that they couldn’t use their quirk while being tickled.”

You gasped at the betrayal. “Don’t you fucking dare write that, Deku!”

With a glance, Denki, Kyoka, and Tsuyu replied simultaneously, “Oh, he’s already writing it.”

With a growl, you shot from the couch. “You’re fucking dead, Deku!” Your classmates yelped with shock and ran down the hall from you, stifling their giggles. 

Eijiro, egging you on, tossed back over his shoulder a snide, “Now you’re sounding like Katsuki!”

“Oh, I’ll make Katsuki look like a fucking bag of pop rocks when I’m done with you idiots!” Your threat carried no heat since it was filled with giggles. You couldn’t help but laugh at the ludicrousness of the situation, smiling fondly at how much you loved your friends.

And behind you, on the couch, Shoto grinned with pride as he picked up his book to continue reading. He was glad he had been allowed to be so affectionate with someone for a chance. Absent-mindedly, he picked up his mug of tea for a sip but sighed disappointingly at the lack of tea inside. Maybe he needed bigger mugs. 

[wreckingtickles]

Ruffling Their Feathers

Bakugo and Todoroki are captured by the double-crossing Hawks, and they happen to have the second half of a code he and Dabi want. Hawks has a very... unconventional idea on how to get them to talk.

Characters: Lees Baku + Todo, ler Hawks (minor ler Dabi)

Words: 7,312

Couldn't find a similar picture for Todoroki (I need an archive of MHA characters looking might ticklish), so Bakugo's footer will have to do.

That frown's going away real soon.

Very intense and barely SFW foot tickles below the cut!

“It’s your fault!”

“It’s no one’s fault. We couldn’t have known that there was a traitor in the squad.”

Bakugo and Todoroki’s latest one-sided argument, a staple of their relationship since the provisional license course, was caused by their capture at the hands of the League of Villains.

It had all begun with a typo. They were supposed to be at the agency by 15:15, but the message they received instructed them to be there at 14:15. So they’d arrived just in time to see Hawks download the codes to the heroes’ secret communications channel, only half of which was given to each team.

They didn’t remember much else prior to waking up in that square, empty room, seated side by side facing the door that would usher in who knew what horrors.

The irritation at being taken out so easily was compounded by their inability to access their Quirks, which had them more than a little worried, as did their restraints: their wrists were fitted through two holes in the middle of a set of stocks that also held their ankles, one at either side of their hands, so they were hunched forward with their knees bent. The most concerning part, however, was the fact that on top of every part of their costumes that could be used as a weapon or contain hidden gadgets, their boots had also been removed and each of their toes pulled back and restrained individually, just barely out of reach of their fingers. It didn’t need a genius to surmise that if they couldn’t break out soon, they would be tortured.

Bakugo badly needed someone to blame, and Todoroki was the perfect anvil to his hammer. But the half-and-half hero wouldn’t need to wait for his crabby companion to run out of steam as Dabi and Hawks walked into the room.

“Hello, boys!” said Hawks cheerfully, greeting them as if they’d just come across each other in a shopping center.

“Fuck you, you disgusting two-faced piece of shit!”

“Traitor,” greeted Todoroki.

“I appreciate you’re angry and disappointed, but understand that, from my perspective, your good intentions are getting in the way of true justice,” explained Hawks, mostly to Todoroki, as Bakugo’s barrage of epithets made conversation with him impossible.

Dabi leaned against the wall next to the door, both glaring at Todoroki.

“Now, let me reassure you that your Quirks aren’t gone forever. We only take drastic measures if they’re strictly necessary,” explained the feathered villain.

“Your father will still have a use for you,” uttered Dabi with a venomous grin. “That is, unless we choose to ruin you for good.”

“Come on, Dabi, you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar!”

“And you kill more moths with fire.” A blue flame appeared in his palm, the sight of which finally silenced Bakugo. “So?”

“If my methods don’t work, you’re free to have your way with them,” conceded Hawks. “But I know it will. I tested them. Leave this to me.”

“Forget it. You’re an idiot and you’re wasting everybody’s time. The only reason we’re doing it your way for now is that Shigaraki put you in charge of their interrogation, and that’s only because he doesn’t know about your ridiculous plan.”

“Shouldn’t you have had this discussion before coming in here?” interjected Todoroki.

Dabi glared, taking a step towards Todoroki, who gave a start.

Bakugo gave him the side eye. He shouldn’t be showing fear. But Dabi had stopped his advance, a nonplussed look on his face, while Todoroki kept fidgeting next to Bakugo.

Before Bakugo could wonder what was happening, his head whipped forward with alarm as he felt something on his right foot. A light, insistent pressure moving up his sole, heel to toes, then back down. He hafted in place, but no matter how much he stretched his fingers, he couldn’t even reach his toes.

What was that?!

“As I was saying,” resumed Hawks, stepping closer to the captives, wings beginning to unfurl, “I need the second half of the code for the agency’s comms, and you guys will give it to us.”

“Or?” spat Bakugo, Todoroki growing more restless next to him. He saw a red feather detach itself from the top of Hawks’s left wing and fly through the air towards him, specifically towards his left foot, where it began to move erratically, dragging its plumes across his arch. But even though Bakugo now understood what the pressure on both of his soles was, it didn’t click for him until Hawks said, “I’ll tickle it out of you.”

Bakugo should have been relieved. They weren’t going to hurt them, at least for the time being. But all he could feel was outraged, outraged that Hawks seriously thought that they’d sell out the pros over something so childish, so insignificant. “Are you fucking kidding me?! Just because it’s so easy for you to sell out, do you really think--"

And then he heard it. A chuckle. Not from Hawks, not even from Dabi. From Todoroki. To his left, Todoroki was jerking his legs, his face scrunched in an attempt to stifle an obvious smile and the sounds of mirth that were trying to spill out of his mouth.

Bakugo felt betrayed for the second time that day. “You gotta be shitting me.” 

Todoroki could feel every plume, every tiny barb on the tip of each of those two feathers as it bent to fit the curve of his sole, dozens, hundreds of them being dragged up and down the bottom of his straight, slim feet.

Hawks smirked while Dabi looked transfixed, almost as speechless as Bakugo. “Well, well, look at Endeavor’s prized spawn now,” he commented as he allowed the corner of his lip to curl up ever so slightly.

“Dude, for real?!” whined Bakugo, but Todoroki couldn’t answer, as he kept squirming and whipping his head side to side, his eyes scrunched shut.

“I, I cahan’t h-hehelp it!” whine the half-and-half hero, instantly regretting trying to speak as he had to double his efforts to prevent any even more embarrassing sounds from coming out. Having grown up with a criminally abusive father and having been separated from his siblings, the only person who had tickled him for most of his life was his mother, and a long time had gone by since the last time. Then, when he began attending UA, first Deku and then Kirishima allowed Todoroki to discover that he was, in fact, still ticklish, and very much so, as if he had never been inured to it, which also led to another crucial difference between him and Bakugo: while the latter wouldn’t allow himself to laugh unless his very worst spots were targeted (though his poker face was terrible), Todoroki was completely unable to cope with the sensation and stifle his reactions.

And the two feathers were barely trying at all.

“Your ‘method’ doesn’t seem to be working on the other one,” observed Dabi. Sure, watching Endeavor’s son squirm from something so silly was entertaining, but they were supposed to move out as soon as Shigaraki called them, and to have the information by then.

“Of course it doesn’t fucking work, who do you think you’re dealing with?!”

Hawks shrugged. “I can also do this.”

“Like this stupid fucking thing is going to work oHOn--!” 

Bakugo bit his tongue when the plume ends of the feathers were replaced by their sharp quills.

“That silenced him? Good,” remarked Dabi.

“D-Don’t be an idiot, t-this is nothing!!” protested Bakugo, wincing when the feathers scratched at the ball of his foot.

Next to him, Todoroki went on eeping with his eyes scrunched shut. He didn’t have so strong an opinion as Bakugo on which method was worse yet, but both were proving quite effective, especially when the feathers trailed up and down his arches.

“I think you heard him,” Dabi told Hawks, suddenly appearing a lot more into it than before.

“I sure did,” claimed Hawks as he grinned at Bakugo a moment before a flock of feathers flew off his wings and swarmed the captives’ soles.

“TCH!!” escaped Bakugo’s lips, his cheeks puffed up and becoming a deeper shade of red every second.

Todoroki skipped the giggling phase entirely. “Noahahahahahahahahahahahahhaaha!!!! Iihihihhihit tihihihicklehehehehehsss!!!!” he protested, a surprisingly innocent expression of mirthful suffering on his face that would have melted anyone’s heart. Anyone’s, but his current tickler’s.

“You really should have kept your mouth shut,” commented Dabi as he shot the beet-red, thrashing Bakugo an amused grin, voicing Todoroki’s thoughts while the trainee was too busy failing to cope with the onslaught of sensation.

Hawks was thorough. There was a feather sawing between the heroes’ toes and swiping at the stems, while the tip of another ran left and right across their base. There was a quill scratching at the center of the ball and spiraling outward and another outlining the underside. Plumes teased the inner part of the instep while another feather ran up and down the arch, and two more focused on the heel and its conjunction with the arch.

The feathers on Bakugo’s feet all used their quill end, save for the ones sawing between his toes, while the ones working Todoroki over mixed and matched approaches. It was the weirdest and most humiliating display of masterful control over one’s Quirk that either trainee had ever experienced.

Unbridled laughter spilled forth from Todoroki, the variety of methods and the multiplicity of spots under fire subjecting him to a sensation that he’d only started to reacquaint himself with a few months prior thanks to his classmates, who’d been delighted to discover that the serious golden child was super ticklish and didn’t know how to handle it in the slightest. 

His left foot was proving to be once again more sensitive than the right, though even just the latter would have been enough to turn him into a hysterical mess. The colder sole was not as vulnerable to the plumes as the left, upon which plumes and quills wreaked twinned havoc.

Seeing the trainee writhe like he was experiencing actual torture sparked a miasma of disgust in the pit of Dabi’s stomach. “Endeavor’s son just gave up, uh,” he mocked. “I’m kind of disappointed.” Yet the amused twinkle in his eye gave the lie to his bored tone.

“He really laughs like he’s never been tickled before,” chuckled Hawks, effortlessly multitasking while putting the two aspiring heroes through their paces. “Guess his home life wasn’t the best. Well, we’re going to make him real happy unless he fesses up.”

The miasma began to lift as Dabi contemplated Todoroki’s helplessness in the face of the ridiculous torment. But if his laughter sparked conflicting feelings of contempt and morbid fascination in the villain, Bakugo was far less ambivalent about how he felt about it.

He loathed it. He truly did. He wanted to punch the hero for letting those degenerates think that… that preposterous, humiliating method would work. Todoroki’s hilarity was peer-pressuring him into giving in as well, surrendering to the overpowering invitation of the over a dozen quills searing his nerves, loosening the locks on his lungs and lips from which a cacophony of grunts, snorts, and even embarrassing yelps slipped out, but no laughter, no, no laughter, it if was the last thing he did!!

What Dabi and Hawks saw was an extremely ticklish guy bellowing and writhing like he was being electrocuted.

“He really hates it,” deadpanned Dabi.

Having an already solid grasp on what made the short-fused trainee tic despite having known him for a few days only, Hawks took that chance to say, “I don’t know if I should be impressed that he’s not laughing his head off despite being so ticklish, or pity him for thinking that he’s fooling anyone.”

“KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! GHHHHHHHH!!! SH-SHHUUUUUUUTTT-- NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!” Nope, no talking.

Hawks’s smirk grew a little wider. It’d be so easy to crack him. But… “It would be healthier if you let it out, you look like you’re about to pop a vein,” he recommended as he had his feathers move slightly faster. Dabi didn’t notice the shift except through the rise in pitch in Todoroki’s laughter and Bakugo’s pointless struggling growing even more desperate.

If only they could reach their feet, shield them from the pesky feathers, they were right there, just out of reach!!

Suddenly, the tickling slowed down. None of the feathers left their post, but they eased up enough that the terribly ticklish captives would be able to understand Hawks’s next words.

“M-Motherf--" Bakugo tried to say while catching his breath, allowing some of his contracted muscles to relax, but he couldn’t risk getting the entire word out.

Todoroki’s laughter decreased to a steady stream of breathless giggles. The tears at the corners of his half-closed eyes, the blush on his cheeks, the forced yet carefree-looking smile… Hawks had to admit that he looked precious.

“Now, let’s practice loosening your tongues a little,” Hawks started, pacing around them like a drill sergeant. “I assume neither of you wants to spill the beans yet?”

Bakugo lunged at him with a bite, but Hawks was out of reach.

“Baby steps. So I’ll make you an offer. If you tell me where it tickles the most I promise I will be nice…r.”

Dabi quirked an eyebrow. Really?

Hawks nodded back confidently, stopping in front of the two trainees. “You don’t want me to find out on my own.”

Bakugo and Todoroki glared as well as they could under their present circumstances.

“Any takers?” Hawks asked nonchalantly.

Even Todoroki made a show of clenching his jaw, although sputtering giggles soon leaked out.

“Too bad,” sighed Hawks. “For you, I mean.”

Without warning, the eight feathers tormenting each foot converged on the heel, scribbling madly at and all around the mound.

“Nohohoht agahahahahaahhaahinnn!!!” giggled Todoroki, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried and failed to pull his feet back through the stocks, scrunch up his soles, cover them with his hands, anything.

“TCH! F-Fuhuck t-thihis!!!” snarled Bakugo, his restlessness mirroring Todoroki’s but with a more irate tinge.

“Hey Dabi, wanna compare and contrast?” asked Hawks.

“Leave me out of it.”

“I thought Todoroki was the most ticklish of the two, but I’m not so sure anymore,” said Hawks, knowing how to push Bakugo’s buttons.

“GGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!”

“I can’t really tell. Let’s try the arch.”

The avian congregation climbed a little higher, up the slope of the arch. About half of the feathers harassing Todoroki switched to sawing their plumes up and down his arch, left and right, while Bakugo, whom Hawks knew to be less responsive to this method, got the full sixteen quills.

“Ohohohohohoh nohohoOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA!!! NOOOOHAHHAHAHAAT THEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEREEEEE!!!”

Todoroki’s giggling once again morphed into full-blown laughter, the loudest as of yet. Though the strength behind his attempts to break free seemed to have waned before, he redoubled his futile efforts, pulling at his wrists and ankles as if it would save him, or somehow make the sensation more bearable.

“Looks like I’ve found a sweet spot,” gloated Hawks, but he wasn’t content with that apparent victory. He carefully observed Todoroki’s body language, noticing that every few seconds, he would lean to the right, until his energy ebbed and he slumped forward again, only to repeat the maneuver moments later as the feathers completed another pass. He didn’t seem to be trying to lean closer to Bakugo, no, there was something else… afoot. And Hawks thought he knew exactly what that was.

But that wasn’t all that he noticed. Bakugo had lowered his head, no doubt to prevent the villains from seeing his expression - as if his body wasn't eloquent enough. That position would only hinder his breathing, depleting his stamina faster and making it even harder to endure a prolonged attack. Hawks wondered if he was even aware of the high-pitched whine, like the wind-up to a scream, that he was emitting as he desperately tried to keep his mouth closed. But the most interesting part was how Bakugo would occasionally freeze up for a moment when the quills hit the very top of the arch, only for him to kick with both legs an instant later.

Hawks tested his theory by having the feathers linger on that spot a couple of seconds longer than they did during previous passes. Sure enough, Bakugo’s purple face shot up for a moment, the curses he wanted to utter dying into a defeated growl.

Hawks knew he could have broken him simply by staying there, but he had a flair for the dramatic. So he moved the feathers to the center of the arch, renewing Todoroki’s hysterical fit, before abruptly moving all the feathers to the balls of the heroes’ feet.

Bakugo’s head shot up again, this time to hurl a fiery glare at Hawks, equal parts incredulity and betrayal, but really, a recognition that breaking had always been inevitable.

“Three…” chanted Hawks, smiling at Bakugo, whose face looked like it was about to burst open.

“Tw--"

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHCCCCCKKKKKKKK!!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILLLLL KIIIIIHIHIHIILLLL YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUHUHUHUHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAA!!”

“Oh wow. When he breaks, he breaks hard,” remarked Hawks, pretending to cover one of his ears. Dabi ignored him, though he caught him sneaking glances at Todoroki, whose hysteria was eclipsed by the violence with which Bakugo’s damn had burst, but ever-present nonetheless.

There was no overselling the all-encompassing loathing that Bakugo felt at that moment, having fallen short of his own self-serving standards. It simply did not compute that a traitor who had everything Bakugo wanted would torture them in such a childish way, and that Bakugo would be unable to shrug it off.

The quills pricked and scratched at the sensitive pads, with a special regards for the very center as Hawks had immediately figured out it was one of the most sensitive parts, lavishing plenty of attention on the underside too, the perfect recipe to keep the resentful laughter flowing.

“FUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHCCKKK!!! YOHOHOUUHUHUHU BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASTAHAHAHAHARD!!! ILL KIIIIII-- STOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAPPPP THAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHATTTT!!!”

“This is great,” chuckled Hawks.

“You’re weird.”

Hawks shrugged. “Eh, it’s just fun to take them down a peg. Especially that one. Hey, are you laughing too hard to hear me? ‘Cause later, we’re spending plenty of time on that spot that you seem to like so much.”

Sadly, Bakugo could hear him, but any retort he tried to cook up got swallowed by the involuntary gales that those tiny, harmless feathers kept pumping out of him.

Though the journey from the ball of his foot to the toes was a very short one, Bakugo could tell Hawks was trying to drag it out as much as possible, slowly dragging the quills as well. There was an understanding that he wasn’t done.

The feathers then began sawing between and across the trainees’ toes. This method proved especially effective on Todoroki, the obvious jolt running through him confirming that that was a more sensitive spot than the ball, so Hawk kept five feathers per foot swishing between and along his toes while three more scratched at the base, occasionally poking the tips too.

But Hawks knew that he could do better with Bakugo, so he kept one quill poking and scribbling under the base of each toe, with the plume end of just one feather swishing across the stems, one quill planted firmly in the center of his big toe, and one more poking each of the other tips in turn.

The trainees didn’t have the chance to marvel at Hawks’s unmatched coordination, the combination of precision and effectiveness he was unleashing on them, but they certainly did feel its effects.

“Hahahaha HAHAHAAHAH!!! Nohohohohhoho moHOHOHohohahahahahaharrEHEHEHEHE!!! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHhahaahahahahahahhaahahahahahahahaha!!!” pleaded Todoroki, ticklish tears pouring down his cheeks and collecting on his seat between his legs. He felt as if he’d been abducted by aliens, unable to comprehend what was happening to him or why. Part of him probably felt embarrassed, but the shock, the absurdity of it all, removed his ego from the equation, leaving him alone before a sensation he’d only experienced a handful of times through his classmates, and through his mother so many years prior.

Bakugo wasn’t faring that much better. He was naturally louder than Todoroki, but for the first time in his life, he was trying to keep it down, and failing. Hawks couldn’t have devised a better method to tickle that area.

“HAHAHahahaahahahahaha!!! FIHIHIHIHght mehehEHEHEHE liiiihihihiKEEEHEHEH AAHAHAHA maaaahahahahahahahAAAAAHAHAHAHANNN!! OHOHOHO hahahahahahaha!!!”

“You want to fight me?” Hawks snickered. “I don’t fight widdle tickly babies.”

“SHHUUUUUUHAHAHAHAHAT!! UUHUHUUHAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!!!”

Oh, the sheer frustration Bakugo felt at his own ticklishness preventing him from discharging his anger was immense, but the imposed hilarity sapped even that.

Hawks walked around to his side. “It tickles less than before, right? I’m sure you can stop laughing if you really try. Come on!”

Bakugo was trying, he was trying so hard, and Hawks’s mockery messed even more with his concentration. But the genie was out of the bottle.

“HaahahahaHAHAHAHAHAH!!! ………….PPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAahaahahahahahaha!!! NNNNNNNNGGGggggghhhhhh…………. ggggghAHHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Hawks began to circle around them, removing his black leather gloves as he did so. “Remember that this all will stop if you give me the code.”

He stopped in front of the stocks, throwing his gloves to Dabi, who reflexively caught them in mid-air and then dropped them.

He wiggled his fingers mere inches away from their feet. He waited long enough for them to see it, his left hand approaching Bakugo’s left sole, his right nearing Todoroki’s right, only to drift further to the side, to the left sole he’d determined to be more sensitive.

 “Don’t forget, this hawk has talons too.” And he struck.

Dabi nearly gave a start as the room got a lot louder than he’d expected.

“NOOOAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHAAAAAAA!!! IHIHIHIHIHITT TIHIHIHHICKLEHEHEHESSSS!!! DOOOHOHOHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHN’T!!!”

“SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIHIHIHIHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHTTT!!! KEEHEHEHP YOUHUR FUHUHUHUHCKING HAHAHAHAHANDS… NAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!”

True to his word, Hawks had chosen violence. His short, dull nails scratched expertly at the ball of Bakugo’s foot and at the arch of Todoroki’s, having identified them as their weakest spots.

The volume and desperation of their laughter was all the confirmation he needed.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH!!! STAAAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHPPP!!! YOUHUHUHHUHU CAHAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHANNN’T!!! HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“BWAHAHAHWHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! IHIHIHHILL KIHIHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! CUHUHUT THAHAHAHAHAT OOOOOHUHUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!! I SAHAHAHAHD-- NAHAHAHAHAHAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!!”

The feathers didn’t remain idle either. He left five on Todoroki’s right foot to complement the motions of his fingers, so they’d target his toes when he was busy with the arch, and the arch when he was busy with his toes, while the eleven on the left flitted back and forth between those two spots, skidding up and down the ball as well as they changed posts.

Hawks was no kinder to Bakugo, his wiggling fingers focusing on the ball and the base of his toes together with three feathers. The remaining fifteen ravaged the same two spots on his right foot, especially the center and underside of the pad. Naturally, all used their quill end.

It was pinpoint torment neither trainee knew how to deal with, Hawks’s dexterous touches appearing to raise the temperature and depleting their stamina and sanity alike while they felt their dignity slowly but sonorously leak out in the form of laughter they couldn’t control, the traitor having completely hijacked their ability to express themselves.

“As you can see, I’m a man of my word,” began Hawks. “Am I not?”

“EHEHEHHNOHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHGH!!! PLEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHASEEE!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! GHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHHA!!! FUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHCK!!!”

“You gotta say it if you want me to stop. I’m a man of my word, am I not?”

Todoroki wasn’t completely opposed to indulging villains in case it made them complacent, while Bakugo’s ego was bound to get in the way of any concession. However, Todoroki’s reply was not the result of a calculation, but mere reflex.

“HAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! YEEEHAHAHAHAHAHHASSSS!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAAA!!!”

“He needs to say it too,” hummed Hawks, nodding his head toward Bakugo while his fingers picked up the pace.

Bakugo too was operating on reflex alone, and his instincts were inimical to their predicament.

“GHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!! EHEHEHEHHAT SHHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHT!!! FUUHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHHAHAHAHACCCK!!!!”

“You hear that, Todoroki? My hands are tied. Well, yours are. And your feet too. Which makes it so easy for me to do this,” he explained as the feathers also began to move faster and the motions of his hands grew more unpredictable.

Todoroki all but howled. “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! BAHAHAHAHAHAAHKUUUUGOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! PLEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASEEE!!!”

“SHIHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAATTTTT!!! FUHAHAHAHAHAHAHCKIHIHING TRAHAHAHAHAHITAHAHAHAHHAAR!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!!”

“Listen to your friend. Help him help you.” His nails moved to the ball of Bakugo’s right foot, the feathers instantly moving to compensate. 

Bakugo arched his back with such force the stocks creaked. “GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAH!!! SHIHIHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHTTT!!!! STAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAPP! YOOOHUHU GOOHAHAHAHAHAHTTTTAAAAA STOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!”

“I don’t gotta do anything. Say it. I’m a man of my word.”

“NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!!”

“Suit yourself. I’ll try again in 10 more minutes.”

The horror in their teary eyes and strained laughter was instantly apparent.

“SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAT!!! YEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSSSS!!! YOHAHAHAHAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAAHHAHHAHAREEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! GHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! STAHAHAHAHHAHAHAP STAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAPPP!!!”

And Hawks did. He stepped away from them while the feathers floated to a safer distance.

The trainees heaved and panted, their lungs burning and their throats parched, Bakugo slumped backwards, Todoroki forward as if he was collapsing in on himself.

“This is pathetic. The whole thing,” remarked Dabi.

Hawks shrugged. “I don’t enjoy needless violence. And pathetic or not, it seems to be working wonders.”

“If - no, when you fail and Shigaraki hears this is how you’ve been wasting our time…”

“I won't fail. Just look at them,” claimed Hawks, though one corner of his smile was frozen. He clapped his hands, addressing the flushed heroes again. “Now, listen close. I’m going to start tickling you again soon.”

Bakugo winced and shot a feeble glare at hawks, a pitiful attempt to disguise fear as intimidation, while Todoroki’s shoulders slumped as he prepared himself for the inevitable.

“That’s the stick. Now, here’s the carrot. I’ll stop tickling whichever of you gives me the code. The other gets these,” he announced as he began to rummage in his costume, a ruse to give both trainees time to focus on him once again and grew more apprehensive.

He then pulled out two mundane items: a fork, and Bakugo’s orange hairbrush.

“I got these while I was waiting for Dabi,” he said, moving the two items slightly, the trainees’ eyes following them with wariness. Too easy.

“The one who spills the beans doesn’t have to find out how much they tickle. The other…”

He put the two tools back inside his utility belt.

“Anyone got anything to say?”

Bakugo and Todoroki looked at each other. Todoroki looked like he’d been running for an hour, endurance having never been his strong suit, but Bakugo begin to wonder whether he would actually cave. There was something in the half-and-half hero’s stare, some kind of request maybe. He couldn’t be about to come clean, could he? Or… was he trying to encourage him to resist?

The thought made Bakugo’s blood boil even though a rivulet of sweat already drenched the back of his costume. Did Todoroki really think that he might call it quits? That he was that weak?

But Bakugo didn’t have the energy to fight, so he just averted his gaze, fixing it on the stocks on the other side of which were his all too tender feet and useless hands.

Hawks tutted. “Too bad. Hawks, would you set a 10-minute timer? We’re getting serious now.”

He didn’t give the trainees time to brace themselves before striking.

His fingers got to work on the same spots as before, though he targeted Todoroki’s right foot rather than his left, and the sixteen feathers he’d been using on each trainee struck at every vulnerable part of that same foot as two horrifying new implements joined the interrogation: Hawks’s wings.

Todoroki shrieked. The amalgamation of feathers which Hawks could animate at will was an ebullient blanket of ticklishness, the plumes coming alive to tease the entirety of Todoroki’s sole in an all-encompassing attack that effortlessly reached between his toes and the sides and even the top of his foot as well. Hundreds or thousands of feathers, exponentially more barbs, and Todoroki could feel them all.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Hawks had threatened the trainees with the hairbrush and fork, but he knew his wing would be just as if not more devastating to the criminal No. 1’s son. He also stiffened the feathers of his left wing since Bakugo was not as sensitive to light touches, and he lacked the bandwidth to remotely control any more feathers without sacrificing accuracy…

Which is why, not even a minute in, the hawk turned 90° and swished at Todoroki’s soles with both wings, while both of his talons pounced on the balls of Bakugo’s feet.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!! YOU FUHAHAHAHAHHAHACKHEHEHHEHR THAHAHAHAT’S UNFAAFAFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Bakugo’s unprecedented cackling was met with Todoroki falling into a choked silence. Sensory overload.

Not even that was able to shut Bakugo up, but the dedicated fingers, accompanied by the sixteen that had been hounding him for a while plus the extra sixteen that migrated over from Todoroki, melted his protests into desperate incoherence, about half the quills matching the movements of Hawks’s fingers to crowd his weakest spots as much as possible.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!!! YOOOOOOOHUHUHUHUHU!!!! SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-- I CAAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

Despite what he’d told Dabi, Hawks couldn’t believe how well the two trainees were responding. He was relieved that this harmless method might actually buy him enough time. He just hoped--

Todoroki’s own laughter returned as a whine, which only served to remind Hawks to divide his attention more equally between the two of them. Though by virtue of being the only one he could see from his position, Bakugo was bound to get the shorter end of the stick. He could stand to be taken down a peg, Hawks told himself as he looked into the young hero’s bulging, tear-filled eyes, fractured babble interspersing the hysterical peals.

Those eternal ten minutes weren’t simply meant to break them, no. Hawks’s Quirk wasn’t merely about moving his feathers: he could feel through them. He noticed that Todoroki’s left foot was warmer than usual, and his right colder, which gave him an idea; and he also noticed that Bakugo’s feet were getting damper and slicker the more he tickled him, which gave him another. He’d keep them safe from Dabi even if he had to tickle them into unconsciousness to do it.

“Time’s up,” muttered Dabi, more invested than he’d ever admit.

“Is it? Eh, I’ll just keep going,” yelled Hawks to give the trainees a chance to hear him. Todoroki let out something that vaguely sounded like a sob, while Bakugo was too preoccupied with the fingers and feathers to respond.

But when he noticed Dabi getting more impatient, Hawks did finally take a step back and allowed the trainees to breathe. Their chests heaving, their hair weighed down by perspiration, the fight had been tickled out of Bakugo, while Todoroki looked like he was about to pass out from exhaustion.

“You know, I’ve gone about this all wrong,” he announced. “Dabi, I’m going to need your help.”

“Forget it.”

“I need your Quirk.” He pointed his thumb at Bakugo, who made an effort to listen and was rewarded with a shiver. “I need you to keep his feet close to the fire.”

“Finally,” huffed Dabi as he began to stride toward Bakugo, who recoiled in horror.

“You aren’t hurting him. There’s one last thing I want to try,” explained Hawks. “See, I remember that his Quirk is based around sweat, and he seems to keep getting more ticklish over time. So I just need a little bit of heat.”

“You’re joking.”

“They’re about to cave, and I’ll give you all the credit. By the way, I suspect your Quirk would also do wonders on his right side,” he added, pointing at Todoroki this time.

“Unbelievable,” scoffed Dabi. Yet, sure enough, two small blue flames appeared in his palms. Bakugo winced.

“Farther,” commanded Hawks. Dabi rolled his eyes, but complied again. 

It was warm, very warm, but not painful. Bakugo had followed a word in three, but he knew he shouldn’t be too happy about the heat displacing the phantom tickles that still tormented his soles.

“Now, where was I? Right. I’ve gone about this all wrong, because there’s two of you, and one code. I’ve been splitting my attention, but I only need to break one of you. So…”

He rested a hand on the top of Todoroki’s shoulder, the exhausted hero regarding him with… Bakugo hadn’t expected it, but there were embers of defiance left in Todoroki’s alarmed scowl.

“I’m going to focus on you, and only you, until one of you fesses up or, frankly, you pass out. Would be a first, but I kind of want to see that. And if that happens, luckily we have a spare.”

“You’re not… going to get… away with this,” panted Todoroki. Bakugo had definitely underestimated him.

Hawks gave him an empty smile. “You’d better hope I do, ‘cause if I don’t, Dabi gets to have fun with you, and he likes his meat well done.”

He clapped a hand on Todoroki’s back, who recoiled under his touch. “If you’re worried about saving face, maybe your friend will speak up for you. He looks like the empathetic kind,” jested Hawks.

Todoroki glanced at Bakugo, currently in the process of glaring at Dabi. He took a deep breath to brace himself.

Hawks walked around him, a solid half of each wing detaching itself and floating to the other side of the stocks. “Last chance,” he whispered in Todoroki’s ear.

“Drop dead,” spat Todoroki.

So Hawks struck. Not with the feathers, however. No, while Todoroki was distracted by the wings positioning themselves right in front of his feet, the tips of the feathers already grazing his soles, Hawks’s hands slipped under Todoroki’s jacket and find purchase in the skin of his sides underneath.

Bakugo saw a look of utter bewilderment cross Todoroki’s face before hysteria overwrote his features completely.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! THAHAHAHHAHAT’S NOHOHOT… OH MY HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHA!!! THAHAHAHAHAT’S NOHOHOOOOHOHOT FAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAAIIIRR!!!” he screamed, accidentally echoing Bakugo.

“I thought I remembered this!” said a self-satisfied Hawks. “Two for two, uh? Man, did the doctors just take the two most ticklish halves of you and glued them together?” he teased as his fingers kept kneading into Todoroki’s swimmer-like flanks, the thumb pressing deep into the soft tissue and discovering the muscle underneath that stretched all the way to his toned stomach.

“GHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHPPP!!! EHEHEHEHENOOOOOOOOOOOOOAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHGHHH!!!”

He squirmed in his seat with newfound vigor, though he wasn’t getting away from Hawks’s prying fingers, sometimes digging hard into his sides, sometimes gently brushing his nails up and down. He leaned so hard to the left that for a moment Bakugo worried he might dislodge his shoulder.

“Look at you trying to squirm away,” cooed Hawks. “Is it because your right side is more sensitive? I think it is. Let’s see if I can find another jackpot up here on the left side,” he continued as he began clawing at the left side of Todoroki’s stomach ,who sucked it in and remained breathless for a moment, but just a moment before laughter poured out again.

“Umh, maybe a bit better, but not a homerun… How about here?”

He spidered his fingers up and down the trainee’s ribcage, a view that despite being partially concealed by Todoroki’s jacket, which rode up to show the lower part of his stomach, caused Bakugo to instinctively lean forward to shield his own ribs with his elbows.

Todoroki’s laughter was still positively frantic as Hawks’s other hand never left his right side, but he didn’t seem satisfied. “Maybe here?” he ventured as he pushed his fingers further up, squeezing his way into Todoroki’s damp underarm.

The trainee recoiled.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAAHAHHAHAAHT THHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHRRREEEEE!!! TOOOOOOHOHOHOH!!! GHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAH!!!”

“And here it is!” gloated Hawks, Todoroki trying to clamp down his arms and only succeeding in trapping the offending fingers where he really didn’t want them.

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAAHAHHAAHHAHAHAAHA!!!”

“That’s close enough, I’d say!”

“You’ll pay for this,” hissed Bakugo, undeterred by the heat that lapped at his soles, making them more sensitive by the minute.

Without looking away from his handiwork, Hawks retorted, “You should worry about you, because I think he’s about to get smart.”

“NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!! IIIIIIIIIIII WOOOHOHOHOHN’T TEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHEHEHHEHEHEHLLL!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHSEEEE!!!”

“What use is begging? You know what I want. Or maybe you’re asking for more?”

“GHAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH PLEEEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHSE PLEEEEHAHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAASE!!!”

“I have been neglecting your feet, that’s true. I think they’re feeling lonely.”

“NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!! NOOOOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHT THEHEHEHEHEHEHRE TOOOOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!”

“Well, they shall cry no longer! Here I gooo!” exclaimed Hawks as his severed wings fully enveloped Todoroki’s feet.

Bakugo saw Todoroki whip his head to the sky, a lunatic grin frozen on his face, eyes bulging and dripping with tears, and gently swaying back and forth in that position without even being able to make a single sound.

Insane. He looked insane. Driven to insanity by fingers and a bunch of feathers. Bakugo couldn’t believe it. He even considered giving them the code for a fleeting moment out of concern for his… classmate. But he couldn’t, Todoroki wouldn’t have wanted him to either.

But even deeper at the back of his mind, there was a reminder, a reminder that if Todoroki passed out, or that if he confessed, then Bakugo would be next.

Dabi was also staring unabashedly. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Something that childish, tearing down Endeavor’s heir like that. His fingers itched.

Todoroki wasn’t even aware of the fingers tormenting his upper body or the feathers that had taken total hold of his feet. It was as if the sensation had seeped deep into his core, and from there had radiated outward, breaking down his sense of self and severing his mind from his body to keep it afloat in an ocean of overwhelming giddiness. Later, he wouldn’t even recall whether he’d laughed in the end or not.

He just remembered his consciousness resurfacing at one point, and uttering the six fabled digits as if in a dream.

“NO!!” screeched a costernated Bakugo.

“Thank you kindly,” said Hawks as he stepped away from Todoroki and called back his feathers. “Way to confirm the code, by the way,” he told Bakugo.

But as he was making his way toward the exit…

“Wait.”

Dabi was holding up his burner phone. “It’s not time for our meet-up yet. And I seem to recall you’re a man of his word,” he said, eyeing Bakugo.

Hawks stopped. “I am,” he conceded as he walked towards Bakugo, whose heart was sinking into his stomach for an additional reason now.

“Don’t you fucking get any closer!” warned Bakugo without anything to back up his threat, his implicit plea.

“Won’t you get bored?” Hawks asked Dabi, ignoring his cursing target.

“I’ll manage. His right side is the ice one, right?” he asked as Dabi stopped between Todoroki and Bakugo, reaching one hand on the other side of the stocks. “I want to see fire and ice mix,” he stated before making his fingers slightly warmer and jolting Todoroki out of his stupor.

But Bakugo was unable to pay him any mind, transfixed by Hawks’s single finger inching closer and closer to his left sole. It curled gently.

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFU--” exploded out of Bakugo, any hope of rebuilding his façade thanks to the break flying out of the window as that one finger made him acutely aware of how much more impossibly sensitive the heat had made him.

Hawks went on scratching delicately, bringing the finger to the center of the ball as Bakugo flailed left and right. He only stopped long enough to retrieve the brush and the fork. “I love being right.”

“GGGGGGGGGHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!”

No, it couldn’t tickle that much, it just couldn’t. The fork traveled from the bottom of his arch all the way to the base of his toes, then down, then up again. The hairbrush was large enough to perfectly scrub the upper half of Bakugo’s foot, the part that Hawks was naturally focusing on, the two tools gliding harmlessly on the impossibly tender surface thanks to the offshoot of Bakugo’s Quirk.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAAHHAHAHA!!! SSSSSSSSSSSSSSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHA!! STASTATSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHA!!!”

“Nah, you had your chance,” said Hawks as he switched the two torture instruments.

Bakugo whipped his head back and forth, if he could he might have banged it on the stocks just to feel something else. And Hawks was unrelenting. Skilled, and unrelenting.

“Weren’t you going to kill me? How are you going to do that? By giggling yourself to death?”

The hard bristles and tines would have scrubbed Bakugo raw if not for his Quirk, but his nerves weren’t any less on fire for it, every ounce of pain having been traded for a different sensation that Bakugo despised even more. But he had no ego left to be bruised, as his entire self was concentrated in his superhumanly sensitive feet, tenderized by the Quirk he was so proud of.

“Now this is an explosion! Oh, you think I’m moving away from the ball? Right where it tickles the most? Oh no no no! I’ll just tickle everywhere else to!”

The part of Bakugo that realized what was about to happen clawed its way to the surface. “NAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAH! NONONONONOHHHHHH!!!! PLEASESTOPPLEAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAHSEE!!!”

But the myriad quills that descended on every part of his soles not ravaged by the hellish tools didn’t heed his final plea.

With one last boom of maddened laughter, Bakugo was thrust into the same pit that he’d watched Todoroki sink into, utterly, thoroughly destroyed, drooling, crying, but unable to string enough sounds together to grovel.

Humiliation, embarrassment, disappointment were fictions that had been shattered, as the tickling cut to something primal, genuine within him. Who knew that tickling his feet really hard was the key.

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!! GGGGGGHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHA!!!”

At some point, Bakugo felt himself float up toward the harsh neon light overhead, gurgling nonsense as the room faded back into focus.

“...ease… nno… moohore…”

But Hawks was already on the threshold, with Dabi having already left the room. Bakugo’s head lolled to the side, allowing him to encounter Todoroki’s dim, concerned gaze.

“Thank you boys!” said Hawks cheerfully. “Someone will come pick you up soon. Pleasure doing business with you!”

He slammed the door behind him, leaving the two tickle-drunk trainees in the room alone. 

As his circumstances flooded back to the forefront, Todoroki’s concern pissed him off. “How–” his voice cracked. Water. “How could you?!” He wasn’t quite sure if he was referring to the code, or to what Hawks had put him through after.

Todoroki didn’t respond, but looked at the door. “Ssh.”

He’d… shushed him? That guy had shushed him–

Bakugo’s eyes bulged out of his sockets when he saw Todoroki lift the upper portion of the stocks and slide his sore wrists and ankles out. To safety, to freedom.

Bakugo forgot everything he wanted to yell. “How… When…?!”

“Hawks did it,” whispered Todoroki as he stretched his sore limbs. Bakugo tried to lift his own stocks, and lo and behold, they opened. There was a feather in the lock, which Todoroki grabbed.

Bakugo’s shock was plain on his expression, his smile muscles stiff.

“Didn’t you notice… what Hawks was writing… with his feathers?” asked Todoroki. He took a deep breath as he shuffled towards the door. “He’s on our side. He wants… us to escape and… tell the agency… to change the code.”

Bakugo was still incredulous as the hallway opened up before him.

“Come on,” said Todoroki as he started out of the room.

Bakugo followed him, to be sure. But he was thinking. He hadn’t noticed anything. And if Todoroki knew all along, how much of it had been an act? And if he had put up a show for their captors, so he could convincingly give up the code later… did he think that Bakugo was weak?

Bakugo grunted. Todoroki shot him a puzzled look, but didn’t stop.

He couldn’t allow the half and half bastard to think of him that way. To feel superior. He had to show him who was really the most ticklish.

[gabe-76]

Tickletober 2024 - Day 22: Cheating (Shoto and Shoji)

Me sleepy, sorry for the laziness guys😭

[xolliwritez]

Fuck you *tosses you flustered aoyama*