#tickle fic

[taurulee]

A Demon Undone

Hi all! I’m super late with this I know, but it’s finally finished!

Warnings: this is an sfw tickle fic with some lightly implied RadioApple. LOTS of teasing! Probably a bit too much, but if you like anticipation this is for you! Lucifer really earns his name as the king of hell, hooo boy.

Word count: 4600 (buckle up! It’s a long one!)

It started, like most of their days, with bickering.

Lucifer sat regally on the sofa in the parlor lounge of the Hazbin Hotel, legs crossed and goblet in hand, exuding calm superiority.

“You’ve gone and scared another client off the premises,” he drawled lazily, not looking up from his wine. “Tell me, was your goal to exorcise them through sheer obnoxiousness, or was it just a happy accident?”

Across the room, Alastor adjusted the dial on his antique microphone, pointed teeth gleaming through his grin. “They were annoying. And slovenly. I did the hotel a favor, you’re welcome.”

“Oh yes,” Lucifer scoffed. “By all means, continue undermining my daughter’s dream with your charming homicidal tendencies.”

The two stared each other down like the air itself had dared to offend them. Charlie had made very specific rules—no bodily harm, no threats of violence, and, most critically, no reality-warping duels inside hotel walls. And yet here they were, toeing every line.

Alastor opened his mouth to respond, but Lucifer cut him off before he could even get a word out.

“You do know what shutting the fuck up is, yes?” Lucifer sipped his wine with an exaggerated sigh.

Alastor tilted his head, grin widening. “Coming from you? One would think your highness would hold some semblance of integrity.”

Lucifer’s eye twitched, eyes red as he jumped to his feet, chest flaring. “You insolent little—”

“Guys.”

Charlie’s voice chimed from down the hall. “Be nice. No violence, remember? I need everyone making an effort to get along here.”

Lucifer plastered on an innocent smile. “Of course, my dear. Just having a spirited discussion with my good friend Al, here.”

Alastor waved, far too innocently, the slight irritated twitch of his eye his only give away. “Just enlightening your father on the joys of radio etiquette.”

Charlie groaned audibly and walked off.

Alastor turned back to Lucifer. “You heard the princess. No violence.”

Lucifer grinned, sucking air through his teeth with a barely withheld sneer.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of hurting you.”

He stood, polished and precise, brushing a speck of dust from his vest. “But Charlie never said anything about shutting you up.”

Before Alastor could react, the world blinked out.

They reappeared in a flash of white light—crackling energy humming against the crimson marble floor of Lucifer’s personal tower suite. The doors slammed shut behind them.

Alastor snarled and spun, his cane raised.

“I will not tolerate—”

His words died in his throat when celestial restraints burst from thin air, golden cuffs locking around his wrists mid-motion and yanking his arms over his head. He stumbled, thrown off-balance, and his knees hit the floor with a thud. He gasped sharply as he felt cuffs loop around his ankles, keeping them locked to the ground.

“What is the meaning of this!?” he hissed, trying to phase through the bindings—only to find them maddeningly resistant to his usual power.

Lucifer approached, eyes glowing a soft, dangerous red. “A lesson, dear Bambi.”

Alastor bared his fangs, fur bristling, voice crackling. “Don’t call me that.”

“Oh I will,” Lucifer purred. “Because it’s adorable. And you have gotten far too comfortable speaking to your king like an equal.”

“If you wish to be treated like royalty perhaps you should act like it.” The overlord spat.

Lucifer didn’t react to the disrespectful retort this time, crouching slowly to come face to face with Alastor’s kneeling form, though it wasn’t by much due to the sheer difference in height between the two.

Alastor met his gaze, unrelenting in the fury that blazed within his eyes.

Lucifer smirked, his face so close to Alastor’s he could almost feel the rageful heat radiating from his face. “You’re not in the position to be talking back, little fawn.”

Lucifer hadn’t intended to touch him, not really.

The plan had been simple: trap the Radio Demon in silence. Lock him in the tower with his own endless thoughts, away from Charlie, away from the staff, away from Lucifer. For once, a few hours of peace in the hotel without that grating, incessant voice chewing through every conversation like static on a wire. He’d let him go…eventually.

Alastor was still on his knees, wrists bound high above his head by golden celestial cuffs that shimmered and pulsed with divine energy. He scowled at the opulent room around him.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your petty little display of dominance,” he spat, “because once I’m free—”

Lucifer sighed dramatically, absentmindedly inspecting his fingernails. “You won’t be. Not for a while.”

He walked a lazy circle around the demon, hands clasped behind his back. “You see, bellhop, the very sound of your voice is like a fork scraping glass. And since Charlie won’t let me maim you…”

He circled back to Alastor’s front now, leaning down again to meet him there, punctuating his words with sharp pokes to Alastor’s chest.

“I’ve—had—enough—of you—talking.”

The last jab landed a little lower than the others—right against Alastor’s sternum—and that was when it happened.

The flinch.

Miniscule. Barely a twitch.

But to Lucifer?

Obvious.

He paused, one brow lifting with interest. Alastor’s face was already tightening, going carefully blank as though to pretend it hadn’t happened at all. But it had. And Lucifer had seen it.

“Well, well…” he mused.

Alastor’s glare sharpened. “What?”

Lucifer said nothing. Just smiled. That infuriating, cocky smile.

Without a word, he stepped behind the kneeling demon, slow and deliberate. Alastor’s posture stiffened.

“What are you doing?” he demanded, his voice now edged with something beyond his rageful snarl, something more raw.

Lucifer didn’t answer. He simply stood behind him, letting the silence stretch long and taut like a string about to snap.

Then—lightly, almost thoughtfully—he placed his fingertips against Alastor’s sides.

Not moving. Not prodding. Just resting them there. Barely any pressure.

Alastor froze.

The tension in his shoulders was immediate. His breath hitched, and he held perfectly still, spine rigid.

A devious grin curled its way along Lucifer’s face. Oh, this was far more effective than expected.

“Is something the matter, Bambi?” he purred near his ear, letting the nickname slither through the air like smoke.

Alastor didn’t answer. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched.

Lucifer didn’t move his hands—yet. But the lack of motion was the worst part. Every breath, every micro-shift in Alastor’s body threatened to cause a ghost of a twitch from those poised fingers, and he knew it.

Lucifer’s voice dropped into a whisper. “You flinched.”

“No, I did not,” Alastor muttered, a little too fast.

“Oh, but you did.” Lucifer let his fingers flex the tiniest bit, barely enough to count. But it sent a tremor through the demon’s abdomen.

“You are,” Lucifer started, amused wonder in his voice as he paused between words, “sensitive, I take it?”

Alastor growled low in his throat. “This is juvenile. You-“

“You’re nervous.” Lucifer leaned close, breath brushing Alastor’s ear and causing it to twitch. “Which means this is going to be fun.”

Alastor’s entire body tensed like a coiled spring.

The weight of Lucifer’s fingers hadn’t changed—still feather-light against his sides—but it might as well have been claws pressed to bare nerves for all the fire it sent crackling under his skin. The radio demon grit his teeth, refusing to react. Refusing.

Lucifer let the silence hang for a few excruciating beats, just breathing steadily behind him, his presence commanding and smug and infuriating. Then, ever so softly, he whispered, “You’re practically vibrating, little buck.”

“I am not,” Alastor snapped through clenched teeth. His tone thickened with effort, voice like glass cracking under strain. “Get your filthy hands off me.”

Lucifer chuckled—a deep, indulgent hum that rattled straight down Alastor’s spine.

“Oh, no. No, no, I don’t think I will. I think I’ve just discovered something precious, and I’m not the type to waste an opportunity when it lands in my lap.”

He gave one finger the slightest twitch. Just one.

Alastor inhaled sharply, the sound thin and ragged. He kept his expression hard, but a bead of sweat rolled near his brow.

“This is beneath you,” Alastor hissed. “A cheap trick. You’re the King of Hell, not a petulant schoolgirl—”

“Oho, is that your angle?” Lucifer laughed, slipping a hand down to rest just at the curve of Alastor’s waist. His fingers were splayed lazily, not yet moving. “Trying to shame me out of it? Sweetheart, I’m the devil. Shame isn’t really in my wheelhouse.”

He leaned in close again, and this time, his voice was syrupy with threat. “And Charlie said no violence. But she didn’t say a word about this.”

Alastor turned his head just enough to glare at him, eyes narrow and dark. “You’re delusional.”

Lucifer chuckled in amusement, his breath against the back of Alastor’s neck making his fur prickle with goosebumps. “You really hate my guts, don’t you?”

“Passionately.”

Lucifer clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. “Such a shame. After all the grace I’ve given you.”

Without warning, he let his fingers barely flutter against Alastor’s sides.

Soft, hardly there, but enough to remind the demon how perilously close he was to total humiliation.

Alastor twitched. His whole torso jumped a centimetre forward, restrained only by the cuffs above.

Lucifer chuckled slyly, and in a teasing voice sang, “You’re trembliiiing.”

Alastor growled low in his throat. “Release me. Now.” His voice was raspy, broken and pitched up, and if he listened closely, Lucifer could hear the smile on his lips, which the king of hell found especially interesting. The radio demon was never without a smile, but this was different, to hear it this way through his voice, almost as though it was more raw, real.

Lucifer trailed a finger in a slow, lazy arc just below his ribs, a ghost of a touch. “Say please.”

Alastor’s breath hitched again—another giveaway, another tiny thread of composure unraveling.

“The radio demon does not beg,” he spat.

“No? You sure?” Lucifer crooned. He danced a fingertip in a slow circle around Alastor’s side, just light enough to make the muscle twitch beneath it. “You’ve got that ‘barely holding it together’ vibe. Very overlord-in-distress.”

Alastor flinched again, his face darkening. His lips were pressed tight, like holding back a damful of water behind cracking concrete. His ears twitched. His jaw was clenched so hard it might shatter, and his usual smug grin had abandoned him, something more unrestrained in its place.

“Ticklish little fawn,” Lucifer cooed softly. “All that power, all that pomp. And one well-placed touch and you’re already squirming.” The king stepped around to face alastor again, fingers not leaving their place on his sides.

“I’m not—squirming.” The word sounded like poison on Alastor’s tongue.

Lucifer’s voice dropped again, sweet and dripping with honey. “You’re blushing.”

Alastor turned his head away sharply. “It’s the lighting.”

Lucifer snorted. “Oh, I’m sure it is.”

He let his fingers drift down toward the softest part of Alastor’s belly, stilling them there. Not moving yet, but the threat hung in the air like static before a storm.

“I wonder,” Lucifer murmured, “how long you would last if I really tried. I’ve barely touched you.”

“F-fuck you!” Alastor’s breathing was faster now—still controlled, but uneven. The cuffed position left him completely open, completely vulnerable, and Lucifer hadn’t even begun.

Lucifer smirked. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

And with that, he let his thumbs give the barest stroke along the curve of Alastor’s ribs- soft, slow, and so light it almost shouldn’t have registered aside from the pressure of his nails against the delicate bones.

But it did.

Alastor made a sound—half gasp, half growl. His back arched a fraction of an inch before he stiffened up again, pressing his knees into the marble floor, as if grounding himself would help somehow.

Lucifer’s grin was positively devious. “So, not ticklish, hmm?”

“Go to hell.”

“I built it.”

Lucifer didn’t relent.

His fingers, still dancing just over Alastor’s clothes, pressed with a growing boldness now—softly stroking at his sides, lightly tapping along his ribs, and occasionally letting his thumbs draw slow, lazy circles against the soft fabric of his waistcoat. Nothing direct, nothing skin-on-skin—but it didn’t matter. Alastor was already feeling the effects deep in his gut.

And Lucifer knew it.

“You’re doing wonderfully, by the way,” he said smoothly, as though praising a child for good behavior. “Your composure is truly impressive. I would’ve cracked already, if I were a lesser king.”

Alastor’s jaw clenched tighter, nearly aching. His fists were still tight, shoulders locked, but the cracks were starting to show. His breath was just a touch too fast. His spine arched just slightly away from Lucifer’s hand every time he grazed too close to a sensitive spot. And most delicious of all—his silence was growing tense, strained.

Lucifer’s smirk sharpened.

“Still haven’t answered my question. ” he sang, his fingers now skimming along Alastor’s lower ribs with deliberate precision. “You’re holding up so well. But I do wonder… if you’re not ticklish, why is your heart pounding like a trapped rabbit’s?”

“I am not—” Alastor snapped, before catching himself, grinding his teeth together and looking away with fury burning in his eyes.

Lucifer only chuckled. “Ah. So we’re continuing with denial.”

He moved behind Alastor again, slow and purposeful, fingers never leaving him. One hand rested gently at his waist, the other now tracing the soft spaces between his ribs, testing pressure and rhythm like a pianist searching for the right key. Alastor barely suppressed a jolt when Lucifer hit a particularly vulnerable angle—just beneath the edge of his ribcage, where the fabric of his vest was thinner, less structured.

“I think we’re getting close to something interesting,” Lucifer murmured, pulling his hands away. “But maybe I’m being too polite. Perhaps your pride needs a firmer push.” With that, Alastor’s coat and vest vanished, leaving his dress shirt as the only remaining barrier.

Alastor snarled, eyes blazing. “You think this will win you anything?”

“I’m not trying to win,” Lucifer replied easily, stepping forward. “I’m just reminding you of your place.”

He placed both hands firmly on Alastor’s sides now, fingers splayed across his ribs through his shirt. He gave a slow, experimental squeeze, pressing deeper than all his previous touches had.

Alastor jolted like he’d been electrocuted.

Lucifer’s grin widened, pupils blown like a shark sensing blood.

“Well now. That was a reaction.”

“You will regret this,” Alastor growled, voice ragged around the edge, pitched higher than it was just moments ago.

Lucifer only tilted his head, amused. “Eh, maybe. But I’ll enjoy it first.”

With wicked patience, Lucifer began to explore Alastor’s ribs again in earnest—light prodding, circular rubs, sudden jabs—all still over the shirt, but expertly placed. It was maddening. Every touch seemed to find a pressure point Alastor didn’t know he had. His whole torso was tense, back slightly arched, head turned away in desperate concentration.

But Lucifer didn’t need to see his face to know he was losing control.

He could feel it. The twitching. The trembling. He leaned in again, his voice velvety with taunt.

“You know what I love about this?” he whispered near Alastor’s ear. “You still think you have the upper hand. You’re still pretending you can handle me.”

Alastor didn’t respond.

Because if he did—he might laugh.

Lucifer smirked.

“Let’s ruin that little fantasy.”

With a casual snap of his fingers, Alastor’s dress shirt vanished in a puff of golden smoke, like the coat before it, leaving behind the soft curve of furred skin and faint, fawn-like spotting that began where the fur darkened on his sides, curling around to his back. Lucifer took a moment, just a moment, to appreciate the sight. If the radio demon felt exposed before, it was nothing quite like this.

“Adorable,” Lucifer cooed with venomous delight. “No wonder you keep this hidden. All those pointy teeth, that smug grin—and underneath it all, you’re just a sweet little forest creature.”

Alastor snarled, cheeks now burning a dark red. “Would you just shut up—”

Lucifer didn’t even wait for him to finish.

He placed his fingers gently on either side of Alastor’s now-exposed ribs—just the pads of his thumbs, resting right on the soft, vulnerable dip under the lowest rib. He didn’t move them. Just stayed there. Still.

Alastor froze.

No breath. No twitch.

Just wide, furious eyes and an internal storm of panic.

Lucifer leaned in, savoring the moment.

“I could break you with two fingers right now.”

Alastor remained silent—but his lips trembled. His jaw clenched tighter than ever, and a soft, involuntary twitch rippled down his side as Lucifer applied the faintest pressure. Still not moving. Not yet. And the worst part was, Alastor wanted to laugh. Laughter was begging, pleading with his body for release. But he couldn’t. He could not stomach the thought of Lucifer’s satisfaction, the humiliation.

Lucifer smiled.

“I wonder… how long you’ll last, now that there’s nothing between us.”

A deep, ragged inhale from Alastor fuelled the fire further within Lucifer.

And as he began to trace a circle, just one, around the bare fur of Alastor’s side—

The Radio Demon bit his lip, the corners of his mouth twitching further upwards.

Lucifer didn’t move fast.

He didn’t need to.

His fingers skimmed across the short, velvet-soft fur along Alastor’s bare ribs with maddening patience—just enough pressure to keep the nerves lit up like wires beneath the skin. He didn’t tickle, not exactly. It was worse than that. It was anticipation, dragged out into something more unbearable, and Alastor found himself wishing the king would just get it over with instead of holding him here in this uncertainty.

“Still holding strong?” Lucifer asked sweetly, his tone smooth, smug and silky.

Alastor didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

His lips were pursed so tightly they were nearly white. His whole body was trembling in his restraints, like a violin string pulled taut. His soft fur bristled, his chest rising and falling in uneven, shallow gasps.

Lucifer tilted his head. “Hm. No comeback? I was almost starting to enjoy our little debates.”

Still no answer.

But when Lucifer’s thumb gently stroked under the edge of his ribcage—just once, the edge of his nail gently scraping the lowest rib—, Alastor gave a sudden, helpless hiccup of breath.

Lucifer froze.

Then grinned, slow and wide.

“There it is.”

Alastor immediately growled, low and foreboding, forcing his expression back to a mask of fury. But Lucifer had caught it. That moment. And he was not going to let it go.

Lucifer lightly fluttered his fingers for just a beat against Alastor’s side. Breath caught in Alastor’s throat.

A little stammer. A harsh, involuntary huff of air through his nose.

Lucifer’s grin widened to something absolutely devious. “Sorry, what was that?”

Alastor glared at the ground, fuming, his mouth still clamped shut. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, his ears pressed tight to his skull in humiliation.

Lucifer leaned closer, voice a whisper against his neck. “Was that a giggle, Bambi?”

Alastor jerked at the nickname—an instant, furious flinch that made his sides tense—and Lucifer took advantage, letting both hands slide firmly around his bare ribs and squeeze, just once, quick and sharp.

“hh-hf —!”

Alastor’s head snapped down, still biting hard on his lip.

Too late.

Lucifer heard it. Felt it.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.”

Another squeeze. This time slower, fingers digging gently between each rib.

Alastor gave a wheezy gasp and a stuttered, “d-don’t—!” before falling silent again, muscles shaking with effort.

“Don’t what?” Lucifer purred.

Alastor growled, low in his throat. Though, to Lucifer, it would be described as much closer to a desperate whine.

“I wonder,” Lucifer murmured, trailing two fingers in a lazy figure-eight over Alastor’s sides, “how much longer you can keep that in. This act. This is very… dignified of you.”

Alastor clenched his teeth again , his entire body rigid with effort. His ribs twitched beneath Lucifer’s fingers, responding involuntarily to the maddening softness of the touch.

He could feel the heat in his face rising sharply—his blush spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears, and down the back of his neck like wildfire. He knew he must look ridiculous. His nose crinkled. His jaw was locked tight. His tail was twitching erratically behind him in barely-contained panic.

Not here. Not in front of him.

“I know you’re not laughing,” Lucifer continued smoothly, brushing a fingertip along the lower swell of Alastor’s side, where the fur was softer—embarrassingly reactive, “but you’re close, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

He was.

Alastor hated how right he was.

Alastor scowled, his teeth bared now, but his face—oh, his face was burning. He was glowing red all the way down his chest, the blush utterly betraying him. His body was twitching in tiny spasms, no matter how still he tried to remain.

He was falling apart.

“hh-he—!”

Lucifer laughed triumphantly. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”

Alastor gave a wheezy gasp, teeth still gritted.

“D-don’t—!” His voice cracked.

The muscles in his kneeling legs were trembling, and despite the red-hot rage in his chest, he couldn’t stop the shudder that tore through him.

Lucifer chuckled, wicked and sweet. “Oh come on, just let it out. You know you want to.”

His thumbs brushed gentle, fluttering circles just under his ribcage—soft and agonizing . It was unbearable.

A soft, high-pitched titter escaped before Alastor could clamp down on it.

No. No no no—

His heart slammed against his ribs, horrified. He could feel the laughter rising, pressing up into his throat like it was boiling over. His blush deepened—how was that even possible? He was sizzling.

Lucifer looked positively gleeful. “Oh. Oh. That’s precious.”

“Stop—” Alastor tried, but it came out strangled.

His entire body was shaking with the effort to remain composed. He was a breath away from collapse. His pride screamed. He was the one who broke others. He did not get reduced to a trembling, twitching mess.

Lucifer let him sit in that silence—hovering, poised, watching.

“You’re trying so hard not to laugh,” he murmured. “You’ve got that whole overlord reputation to protect. But here you are. Quivering like a scared fawn, ears pinned back, blushing so sweetly.”

Alastor snarled through his teeth again. His ears were so flat now they nearly disappeared into his hair.

His mind was spinning so fast, he was completely unprepared for Lucifer’s next move.

Both hands dove under Alastor’s arms from behind, latching onto his ribs, squeezing and vibrating fingertips in deep, wicked pressure.

Alastor broke.

“—p-Phfff—! N-Nohohoho—!”

No, he exploded.

Squeaky, frantic giggles burst out of him like a dam breaking.

He folded forward in the restraints, shoulders trembling violently as the laughter overwhelmed him.

“Pffhehehehehe—aAHAHA–! NO! HA–h-hold on–! You basta–AHAHA!”

Lucifer howled with joy.

“There it is! I can’t believe you thought you’d ever be able to hold out on me.”

Alastor was wrecked. He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t think. His mind was a haze of horror and helplessness.

His chest burned. His face was on fire. His laugh spiraled upward into frantic, hiccupy bursts, broken and wild and nothing like the composed, elegant, terrifying image he clung to.

He hated it.

He hated how good it felt to let go.

Suddenly, lucifer was in front of him again, not wanting to miss another moment of Alastor’s wild smile. The demon was always smiling, but this was different. It was so…untethered. His hands slid lower.

Alastor knew, with the last thread of dignity he had left, that he was completely at the King’s mercy.

Lucifer’s grin widened when his fingers reached their final destination—the center of Alastor’s torment.

That soft, vulnerable, absurdly sensitive belly.

“Ohhh,” he purred, watching Alastor flinch even before he made contact. “Now what do we have here…”

Alastor tensed all over, teeth gritted through the giggles still tumbling out of him in helpless waves. “D-Dohohon’t—HAH!—y-you wouldn’t—!”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, scanning Alastor’s kneeling form. The way he had resolved to going slack in his restraints, head flopped forward in a last ditch effort to hide his flushed face. The trembling pale fur along his belly and sides—quivering, drawn tight with nerves, absolutely begging for attention.

“Hmm,” Lucifer murmured, cocking his head. “You didn’t say ‘can’t.’ You said wouldn’t. What a funny choice of words.”

Alastor’s eyes blew wide. “D-Don’t you dare—”

Lucifer gently wiggled his fingers just above the exposed skin, slowly bringing them closer to their destination. Alastor nearly stopped breathing altogether, whiny giggles tumbling from his lips, shoulders tight, every single nerve in his body screaming at him to brace.

“You’re already laughing,” Lucifer observed softly. “And I haven’t even touched your belly yet. What’s got you so nervous, little deer?”

He waited.

Waited.

Alastor made the mistake of shifting—just an inch—and Lucifer pounced.

Ten fingers descended like lightning, scribbling up and down the plush fur of Alastor’s stomach in erratic, devastating zigzags. He didn’t give him a moment to recover—each flick and scritch was purposefully uneven, unpredictable, keeping Alastor’s nerves overloaded and confused.

“NAHAHAHAHA—! LUHUHUHUHUCIFER—!!”

“Oh yes,” Lucifer breathed, positively delighted. “There it is. There’s the sound I wanted to hear.”

Alastor lost it.

He thrashed in his restraints, but they held firm, his knees trembling against the floor. His body shook with overstimulation, laughter pouring from him in high-pitched bursts, interrupted only by gasps and the occasional shriek when Lucifer zeroed in on a particularly brutal spot just above his hips.

“G-Get your h-haHAHANDS—! OFF—AHAHA—YOU SADISTIC—!!”

“Ah ah,” Lucifer scolded, brushing his thumbs in slow, lazy spirals around the shallow dip of Alastor’s bellybutton. “Charlie said no hurting each other, remember? This isn’t hurting. This is… correcting.”

“Y-YOU’RE DEAD—AHAHAHAHA!!—DEAD WHEN I GET OUT OF—!!”

Lucifer just clicked his tongue, his smile growing somehow even more smug.

“Oh? Is that a threat? I wouldn’t do that if I were your position right now.”

Alastor wheezed, red-faced and blinking back tears, laughter breaking into desperate little hiccups. Lucifer gave him a moment—just a moment—his fingers still resting wickedly over his belly. Alastor drew in three ragged, giggly breaths.

And then he dug in again, this time with rapid, focused scribbles across his lowest ribs, and Alastor squealed.

A high, undignified sound ripped from his throat as he threw his head back, laughter spilling out uncontained, pure and raw and broken.

“NOHOHOHO—STOHOP—THAHAHAT’S—THAHAHAT’S NOT F-FAIR—!!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Lucifer crooned, his voice practically a purr. “You thought this was ever going to be fair?”

He leaned down, lips nearly brushing Alastor’s ear.

“You ticklish little thing. If anyone finds out about this—well. I’m sure your reputation will never recover.”

Alastor hiccuped. “I—I’ll—I’ll rip yoHOHOU l-limb from liHIHIHIMB—!!”

Lucifer gave his ribs one last, devilishly calculated bout of pinches, fingers zeroing in on the soft flesh between them.

Alastor’s laugh shot up an octave, wild and unrestrained, as he sagged entirely in the binds, all his fight gone, reduced to nothing more than a flushed, breathless, giggling mess.

Lucifer finally relented.

His fingers stilled, drifting lightly off the trembling curve of Alastor’s belly, admiring his handiwork. The deer demon nothing like his usual composed image before—ears drooped, hair disheveled, fur tousled, cheeks cherry-red, chest rising and falling with every ragged breath. Lucifer chose to ignore the warmth that spread within his chest at the way Alastor smiled, bright and wide, so different from the one he normally wore.

And—most satisfying of all—he was silent.

“Not so chatty now, are we?” Lucifer said, mock-gently, brushing a thumb over Alastor’s shoulder like he was petting something fragile. “You should thank me. You’ve been begging for someone to knock you off that high horse since the day you arrived.”

Alastor didn’t speak.

Couldn’t speak.

Just glared, panting, still trembling from the aftermath. Still giggling.

Lucifer stepped back, smug and slow, and let the bindings begin to fade.

“You’ll be free in 10 minutes,” he said casually. “I’m off to enjoy the silence now. Do let me know when you’re ready to behave.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back with one last smirk.

“And don’t worry, Bambi…your secret’s safe with me.”

He winked.

“For now.”

[fluffyenergee]

"I thought you said you weren't ticklish" with ler!demo and lee!solly :3

"KKKHAHAHAHA!"

A mix of laughter and a scream could be heard coming from the common room. In fact, it was loud enough to reach Soldier's ears and sent him rushing to the source.

"Enemy alert, enemy alert, everyone, regroup-!"

He stopped instantly once he arrived in the doorway.

It was not a sneaky enemy attack, it wasn't even anyone accidentally burning the kitchen. Or in case of some of them not accidentally at all. The point was what met Soldier's eyes was Sniper sitting in Heavy's lap. Still screaming.

"Maggot, what is going on!? What is this Commie-?"

"KKKHAHAHA! AHAHHA!" Sniper wailed again. "S-STOHOHOHAP HIHIHIM!"

Sniper's arms flailed wildly and that's when Soldier saw it. One of Heavy's arms was keeping Sniper pinned to his chest, while the other one was wiggling against the marksman's ribs. Oh.

"Sniper was being rude," Heavy simply claimed, like that was enough of an excuse. Maybe it was.

"Bah! That is no serious emergency." Soldier thumped his leg and just when he was about to turn around and find something better to take care of-

"Naw, c'mon, laddie, not good enough of a show fer ye?" Demoman revealed his presence and spoke from the couch trying his best to be louder than Sniper, his eyes moving from the tickle pair to Soldier. "It's good fer me." He took a sip of his scrumpy.

"Show?!" Soldier raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "Being ticklish does not count as entertainment, this is an unforgivable weakness!" With that he took off, ignoring Sniper's curses.

However, he didn't get to go far before, aside from Sniper's laughter, he could hear thumps of steps behind him. Instincts kicked again and he was face to face with the intruder.

"Spy!"

"Eh, naw, lad, still me." Demo blinked at the other.

"Good job, then!" Soldier patted him on the shoulder. "Keep it up."

"Aye." Demo grinned. "But actually, I wanted to ask ye a question."

"What is it, Demoman?"

"Ye said that ticklin' is a weakness."

"That is not a question, but yes!" Soldier straightened his posture. "It is. Just like pain."

"Riiiiight." Demo rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "Guess it's bad then that every mate in this team is ticklish."

"WHAT!?" Soldier's helmet almost flew off his head. "Everyone?"

"Yep. Checked it meself." Demo grinned to himself. "'S not that weird, actually, doc once said that someone not bein' ticklish would be more of an er, "atypical nervous reaction"."

"Hmp, so everyone here is a weakling," Soldier scoffed and crossed his arms. "Aside from me. I knew it all along. Soldier prevails, maggots!"

"Soooo, you're saying ye're not ticklish?"

"Correct!" Soldier saluted.

"Riiiight." Demo narrowed his eyes. "Mind if I check then?"

"Weakness inspection, I approve!" Soldier agreed enthusiastically but then added quickly, "Even if I know there are no weaknesses on this body." He patted his chest. "You still have-." He choked on his words when Demo started pulling him with him, away from the common room.

Even though Sniper's laughter has died a while ago, Demo figured they could use a different area for that "test". And what a better place than his own room where he could be like, 50% sure no one would come uninvited.

So, they entered the area, and he lightly pushed Soldier towards his messy couch where the other sat down, still as straight as a guitar string but definitely not tense. And Demo thought that could only mean one thing,

"He genuinely thinks he's not ticklish."

Fine then, either he would make an absolute fool out of himself orrrr prove to a very unwilling mercenary that he is ticklish as well. He weighed the pros and cons, and his mind was made up.

"Alright, lad, remember, no laughing."

He sat down next to Soldier and shifted into a more comfortable position. His hands hovered above the other's body for a moment or two and then-.

"Agh!"

Squeezed both of Soldier's knees.

"Aha, what was that?" He smirked, not only because Soldier actually made a sound, but also because from his bent position he could see his eyes, and they were widened.

"Nothing!" Soldier, of course, denied everything.

"Mmmm, sure. Be it yer way."

Demo didn't stop, his hands still sitting on the trusted source that were Soldier's knees and kept squeezing. He hummed when they started twitching and the corners of Soldier's lips started moving up.

"I dunno, ye seem to be reactin', alright."

"This is... ngh, nothing," Soldier hissed through gritted teeth. "I-It's magic, you're using magic!"

"I wish."

The reaction on knees sure was promising but became even better once Demo's hands moved up to the sides of Soldier's thighs and scratched.

"Mmmph!" Soldier's hands moved, just a bit, to grab Demo's, but he managed to stop them just in time.

"Naaw," Demo tickled at the area just between thighs and hips, just where he could feel the bone. "I thought ye said ye weren't ticklish," He purred, half in satisfaction, half playfully, and pinched the skin.

Soldier jumped.

And snickered.

"I-I'm n-not."

To Demo's delight, Soldier's voice as well as body were now shaking. There were definitely no other excuses available now.

"Hah! Ye are ticklish!"

In his enthusiasm Demo put his hands under Soldier's arms and picked him up. It didn't last long, however.

"HAAAAAH!" Soldier wheezed, his hands instantly plastered to his sides.

"Ohoho-hoh. What have we here?" Demo's all-teeth grin was positively evil.

"N-Nothing." The panic in Soldier's voice was absolutely delightful. His arms were making absolutely sure Demo couldn't free his hands from under them even if he tried. "Demoman, I order you t-to stop this r-right nggh, right now!" He sputtered.

"Hmmmm, no." Demo pretended to ponder. "Not only are ye ticklish, ye're really ticklish. Admit it."

"No!" Soldier shook his head so strongly his helmet was now askew. "This is all propaganda. N-Not true at all! Maggot, let me go, or I swear-!" Demo scratched just once in the hollows. "AH!"

Once Soldier threw his head back there was no saving his face getting fully uncovered but at least he managed to catch the helmet. However, instead of putting it back in its place Soldier was now holding it against his face. All in all, if covering his face was the goal Demo had to admit this move was definitely doing its job better than before.

A shame really because he was starting to notice blush on Soldier's face. The good thing, however? Soldier uncovered his armpits completely and Demo was not planning to miss his chance.

His fingers renewed their eager exploration of Soldier's armpits to which their owner in turn returned to laughing, though now it wasn't just a single burst but a continuous stream.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! G-GGHAHAHA!"

No amount of helmet covering could muffle his laughter enough.1

"Guess that means yer just like the rest o' us." Demo shook his head, mock-disapprovingly. "Full of weaknesses. Yer armpits seem to be the worst weakness-central yet."

"NOHOHOHOH, I-I REHEHEHEFUSE!"

"Aye, refuse all ye want, Private Haircut." Demo vibrated his finger which resulted in an actual squeal from Soldier. "Even with one eye I can see it all just fine. Tickle tickle tickle! If that helps, ye can see it as a punishment for lyin' about not bein' ticklish."

"IT WAHAHAHASN'T A-!" The rest of the sentence dissolved in the absolutely wild wheeze escaping Soldier. He tried to come back to it a few more times but each time more laughter or wheezing proved to be superior. "GAHAHAHAHAHA! D-DEHEHEHEHEMO- GAHAHA!"

"Idea!" Demo beamed while drilling his thumbs into the center of Soldier's armpits, causing him to spasm. "I stop when ye admit yer ticklish."

"NEHEHEHEHEVER!"

"Whatever ye say, lad." Demo shrugged. "I have a whole day."

-----------

Help, this is the longest one yet, that ain't a drabble :'). Anyway, I'm glad I got to try writing those two's speech because before I had found it quite intimidating, especially Demo's but I think I did ok :}. Didn't help however that at first both sites with Soldier and Demo's lines didn't freaking work.

[mah-t-wordblog]

Hi can I request a ler bakgou and lee reader please

Hiiiii! There it is, I liked that one!!! 💛💛 not me thinking about Bakugo doing this to me…

You'll pay for this

Ler: Katsuki Bakugo

Lee: Reader

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: Bakugo x Reader

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down 

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Training had just ended, everyone was sweating and tired. As they walked to the dorms, Mina approached Y/N

“Hey! Y/N! You rocked today, huh?”

“You think so?” Y/N smiled

“Of course you did! And the beating you gave Bakugo, woohoo!”

Ah, there was that point, Y/N had just defeated Bakugo on the training, and… he wasn’t happy whit that

“Yeah… I think so” 

Y/N tried to look over their shoulder to see if Bakugo was trying to stab them, and indeed, the boy was looking at them with deadly eyes

Y/N quickened their pace and swallowed hard, who had they gotten mixed up with? Some time passed and Bakugo didn't show up, it seemed like he wasn't that angry

Y/N sat on the couch, the dorm room was alone and they felt safe

Until a voice spoke in their ear 

“Are you scared of me?” 

Y/N almost dropped all the coffee they were drinking on the floor

“B-B-Bakugo?!” They screamed and putted the coffee on the table in front of them, the boy sat down next to them

“What's wrong?~” he smiled, clearly teasing them “you know you're not going to win today, right?” Y/N swallowed hard

“Yeah?…”

“Yeah~” Bakugo got even closer to them, shaking his fingers provocatively

Y/N felt such a nervous rush that they got up to run away, but Bakugo grabbed them by the arm

“Nonono, you’re not going to run away this time” he pulled them and made them fall sitting on his lap, Y/N didn’t have time to blush, the explosive pinned their wrists above their head

Bakugo smiled seeing Y/N’s nervousness, he slowly brought his hands closer to their exposed armpits

“Nohohohoho! Oh plehehease! Pleasepleaseplease” they closed their eyes and kicked in all directions

“I haven’t started destroying you yet~”

“JUHUHUST DOHO IHIT!”

“What?”

“JUHUST TI- YOHOU KNOHOHOW!”

“Oh~ you can’t say ‘tickle’?” He finally put an end to Y/N's suffering, or not, digging his fingers into their unprotected armpits as their giggles turned into loud laughter "tickle, tickle, tickle"

"FUHUHUHUCK YOHOHOU"

"Ohoho, look what we have here" Bakugo brought his face closer to theirs, which was blushing "do you want to repeat?" he stopped moving his hands for a few seconds

"I said... fuck you-OHOHOHOHOAHAHAHA!"

Y/N didn't know what was worse, that they were in the middle of the dorm room, the fact that they were blushing more than they should, or that damn Bakugo was nibbling on their ribs

"Hm~ delicious"

"OH PLEHEHEHEHAHAHASE! MEHEHEHERCYHYHY!"

“Mercy? I don’t work whit mercy, dear~”

At this point Y/N thought they were going to die, if it weren’t for the angel who appeared behind the couch to help them

“Kacchan… I think they already got what they deserved, are you going to kill them?”

“None of your business, nerd!” They talked as if they weren’t there, trapped in Bakugo’s lap, still laughing because of the squeezes he was giving their ribs

“Let them breathe a little”

Bakugo rolled his eyes “argh, okay! But I’m not doing this because you asked! Nor because I feel sorry for you, Y/N!” He looked at them and gave them the mischievous smile they knew very well “we’ll sort it out later”

Y/N needed a few minutes to think about what had happened, they covered their face with their hands and lay there, panting and very, very blushing, dying of embarrassment

That idiot…

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

[moczinsfwmacza]

THISLE NATION RISSEEEEE RAAAAAHHH

MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT, THANK UUUUU

[august-anon]

jason damian and tim arent gonna let dick get away with that im sure... 3v1 revenge STAT

Brother Wrangling series: 1 - 2 (you are here)

___________________

based on when this came in and what I had published at the time, i just assumed that it was meant as a revenge sequel prompt to Brotherly Duties, so I hope I got that right sdkjfhs I actually had some ideas in my head jangling around for a sequel to that fic already, but I think this prompted fic works well as a bridge between the first fic and my own idea! so in the future there Will be a third installment to this series lol

_____________________

Brotherly Revenge

Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lers!Jason, Damian, and Tim & Lee!Dick

Word Count: 4684 words

Summary: Dick's brothers decide that he's gone unchecked for too long. They decide to team up and take down their tickle monster.

[ao3 link]

____________________

Dick practically skipped up the front steps of the Manor, humming some earworm pop song that had been playing on the radio before he’d slipped out of his car. Alfred would probably chastise him for parking out front instead of the garage, but the main entrance was so much closer to the family den than the side entrance, and Dick didn’t have the patience for that extra minute, short as it was. Because it was movie night.

Movie nights were far harder to coordinate than family dinners, but Dick lived for them. He got to force as much of his family as he could onto the couches — or maybe even cajole them into building a blanket fort — wrap himself with blankets and cuddles to chase off the chill, and spend time with his far-too-busy family for a well-needed night off patrol.

Of course, one of the downfalls of a far-too-busy family that worked nights was that movie night rarely had a full house, just like tonight. Bruce was off in another country with the JL, the girls had a big case they couldn’t afford to take the night off for, and Duke was on a weekend-long school trip to Metropolis. Dick just hoped the remaining Birds of Prey were able to handle Gotham that evening – if another movie night got interrupted by an Arkham breakout, Dick was going to scream.

As he ventured deeper into the Manor, the buttery smell of popcorn filled his nose. He could hear his brothers talking, but miraculously, there were no arguments. They must have already argued out the movie pick before he got there. He nearly ran smack into Alfred as he rushed down the hall, knocking half his armful of bedding to the floor. He grinned sheepishly as Alfred raised an eyebrow, leaning down to pick up the mess.

“Welcome home, Master Dick.”

“Hey, Alfred. They starting without me?”

“I believe they were growing impatient, sir. Something about you ‘always being late?’”

Dick gave an exaggerated gasp, whirling around to head towards the den. Alfred followed behind at a more sedate pace. He tossed his armful of blankets aside when he got there.

“I am not always late!” Dick grabbed for the nearest brother – Tim, as it happened, and trapped him in the tightest tickle-hug he could. “You try driving in all the way from Blud – I’m perfectly on time!”

Tim shrieked with laughter, trying to fight his way out of Dick’s arms. “I wasn’t even the one who said it!”

“Who said it then, huh? Tell me!”

“Jason! Jason said it!”

“Wow,” Jason said, sprawled in an armchair across the room. “What a wuss.”

Dick chuckled and stopped tickling, turning his hold into a real hug that Tim easily slumped into. “Watch out, Little Wing – you’re next.”

Damian tossed a throw pillow in Dick and Tim’s direction. “We are already behind schedule. Save your childish games for later.”

Dick released Tim, giving him a hair ruffle for good measure. “Maybe Dami wants to be next instead, hm?” He formed his hands into claws, allowing a mischievous grin to spread across his face. “Maybe all the Gotham grumps need a visit from the tickle monster before we have movie night.”

“I would suggest being cautious trifling with your siblings today, Master Dick,” Alfred said as he entered the room, adding his stack of bedding to a neat pile being formed on one of the sofas. Looked like it was a blanket fort night.

Dick snorted. “And why’s that?”

“Jay’s been on a rampage,” Tim stage-whispered.

“Indeed.” Damian glared at Jason. “We’ve already had to endure such foolish activities once tonight.”

Dick raised an eyebrow in Jason’s direction.

Jason raised one back. “Someone had to win the movie pick argument. I got sick of listening to them sniping at each other.”

“And I’m sure you did no sniping of your own.”

Jason bared his teeth in an aggressively fake smile. “Watch it. You’re more than deserving of comeuppance, Dickhead.”

Dick tilted his head to the side, bringing out his innocent, puppy-dog eyes. “What do you mean, Little Wing? I’ve been stuck in Bludhaven for weeks!”

Complete bullshit. Dick knew he probably deserved a healthy dose of revenge, seeing as he often went full tickle-monster whenever he dropped into Gotham. He’d avoided getting a taste of his own medicine so far, but he knew it would only last so long before one of his siblings — or even Bruce — took him down.

Tim and Damian both perked up.

“Richard is ticklish?” Damian asked.

“I figured he had to be,” Tim said, frowning. “I just can’t catch him.”

Jason checked his wrist, despite the fact that he wasn’t actually wearing a watch. “You know, I think we’ve got time for one more round.”

“Whoa, hold on—“

“What for?” Jason casually stood from his chair, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s not like you wait to attack, say, during Mario Kart.”

“You’re a cheater! What am I supposed to do?”

“What about when you drag me away from work?” Tim asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t run yourself into the ground. At least I do it in a fun way!”

Damian stepped forward, his arms crossed. “And your interruptions of my training?”

“You’re a kid! You should not be training that much.”

Jason stepped forward, his steel-toed boots thumping heavily against the carpet. “Maybe you need a taste of your own medicine, Big Bird.”

Dick started backing out of the room. “You know what, I’m pretty sure I heard Alfred call for help–”

“No he didn’t,” Tim said. “He just left, he’s not that far away. We’d hear him.”

Jason rolled his neck. “Sic ‘em, kiddies.”

Tim and Damian charged him. Dick couldn’t help the fond laugh that escaped him as they barrelled into his middle, trying to wrestle him to the ground. Unfortunately for them, Dick was well-versed in playful roughhousing. He scrubbed at their hair to knock them off balance, then darted backwards to make them lose their footing. While they were disoriented, Dick managed to twist them both around so their backs were to his chest. He hugged them tight, laughing at their sudden panicked struggling.

“Should’ve known better.”

He started clawing at whatever tickle spots he could reach. Tim was easy — his ribs were far too accessible in this hold, and he lost himself to desperate cackling almost instantly. Dami took a bit longer, squirming and thrashing in stubborn silence as Dick clawed over his sides and tummy until — there, that little patch of skin next to his belly button that always got him giggling like the little kid he was.

Dick couldn’t help but laugh along with them. “Did you guys really think that would work? Come on, it’s me we’re talking about.”

Jason stepped forward again, eyeing Dick thoughtfully. “Looks like your hands are full there, Big Bird.”

Dick narrowed his eyes.

“I wouldn’t count yourself the winner just yet.”

“Jason, help!” Tim screeched, frantically trying to tug Dick’s hand away from his ribs.

Dick was gratified to see Jason’s mouth twitch up at the corners as he looked at the boys laughing away in Dick’s grasp. “Yeah yeah, Timmers — hold your horses, I’m getting to it.”

For a moment, Dick actually thought that the Older Brother Instinct might win out, that Jason instead might join him in tickling the snot out of their baby brothers and forget about revenge. That hope was dashed as Jason met his eyes again, smirking deviously. He should have known. Jason had always been good at holding a grudge.

With Jason still advancing, he didn’t have much time to think. In a moment of panic, Dick launched Damian in his direction, forcing Jason to catch him. Dick wrapped both arms around Tim then, brandishing him like a shrieking shield.

“Dick, no! You jerk!”

Jason set Damian aside like a disgruntled cat. “Arms are still full, asshole.”

Dick cocked his head. “Are they?”

Once Jason got close enough, Dick thrust Tim in his direction too. Jason, the secret softie, paused to steady Tim to make sure he didn’t fall flat on his face. Dick should’ve taken the opportunity to run. Instead, he darted around his brothers and hugged Jason from behind, digging his fingers into Jason’s stomach.

Jason doubled over with a strangled chuckle. Tim and Damian, after being subjected to more than Jason’s fair share of tickle attacks, eyed him as prey just as much as Dick for a moment. At least until Jason got an elbow solidly into his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.

“I’m not letting this go,” Jason said, twisting around in Dick’s now-loosened grip. “You’re going down, Dickface.”

Dick saw eight different escape routes from where he stood. Six different ways he could easily take Jason to the ground. He knew he could defend against Tim and Damian’s attacks if he took Jason down – he knew all their moves, had taught them a lot of them himself. Dick knew how to win a fight that was stacked against him, especially against such familiar enemies. He was Batman’s first and oldest student, after all.

Dick let Jason tackle him to the floor.

He put up a bit of a struggle against having his hands pinned, but in a straight-out grapple – especially when Dick was already downed – Jason naturally had the upper hand. His wrists wound up pinned to either side of his head, grip tight enough that even with all his dexterity, he would have a difficult time twisting out of it. He was well and truly trapped. The anticipatory butterflies started swarming around in his stomach.

“C’mere kiddies,” Jason said with an absolutely vicious grin. “Let me show you just how to take Big Bird down.”

Dick growled, pretending to put up a fight to preserve his own pride. He squirmed under Jason’s weight, bucking slightly as if trying to throw him off. A twinkle sparked in Jason’s eyes and Dick had to fight down the flush that immediately wanted to crawl up his neck.

Jason knew he wasn’t really trying to get away. He knew Dick was letting this happen. Dick was never going to hear the end of this again. The mocking was already ringing in his ears now.

“I’m not a kid,” Tim grumbled, but kneeled at Dick’s side anyway.

Damian kneeled down on Dick’s other side. “How do you know where Richard is ticklish?”

“I saw Bruce tickle him down to the mats enough times when I was a kid. I know all his weak points.”

Dick gave him a mischievous smile. “Just like how I know all yours.” He kneed Jason in the back.

Jason grunted, narrowing his eyes, and he let go of one of Dick’s hands just to reach back and squeeze at the offending joint. Dick choked on his suppressed laugh, ripping his leg out of Jason’s grip. His free hand gripped Jason’s shirt, not able to reach his hand to pull it away.

“See? Goldie’s ticklish as all hell.” Jason’s grin turned predatory.

“Where do we begin?” Damian asked, shuffling even closer on his knees.

“Nowhere!” Dick said, playing up his squirming a bit more. “Get off!”

“Where’s his tickle spot?” Tim asked, scanning his torso.

“From what I remember, he’s a walking tickle spot – almost as bad as you, Baby Bird.”

Okay, he was actually going to kill Jason later.

Scowling, Dick kneed Jason in the back again, harder this time. He straightened out his leg quickly, trying to avoid Jason grabbing at it again. 

“Still not as bad as you,” Dick said, a saccharine smile on his face

Jason stared him down. “You’re gonna regret that.” He glanced up at their brothers. “Ready, kiddies?”

Tim glared at him. “Call me ‘kiddie’ again and we’ll team up against you instead.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“No, you’re onto something, Timmy. You knock him over, and I’ll–”

“Damian, start tickling. Shut him up.”

“Wait, no–”

Damian, for once, did as he was told. Hesitant fingers started spidering against his stomach and the side closest to Damian, where his shirt had ridden up in his struggles. Dick bit his lip on a smile, jerking away from the touch. The reaction seemed to give Damian the confidence he needed, as he started to dig into Dick’s stomach in search of the laughter Dick was holding back. Being the youngest of all of them, whether it be the Wayne clan or the full Bat clan, Damian had the least amount of experience being on this end of the tickling. It seemed he was going to take advantage of this opportunity for all it was worth.

“There you go, kid,” Jason said. “You wanna get him real good, go up near–”

“No!” Dick shouted, actually putting some effort behind his squirming now. “Giving away spots is against the rules!”

Jason laughed. “Since when are there fucking rules to tickling?”

“Since now!” He whipped his head back and forth, giving his two youngest brothers a desperate look. “I’ve never told Jason any of your spots!” He looked back up at Jason. “And I never told them yours!”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “So?”

Dick gaped at him. “What happened to loyalty?”

“There is no loyalty in war,” Jason said. “Only casualties.”

Tim and Damian leaned forward again, as if on queue. 

“Let’s start him off easy. Domain – start up again on his stomach. Tim – armpits.”

Dick squawked as his brothers shifted into position. “That’s easy?”

“What’s wrong, Dick?” Tim asked. “Can’t take your own medicine?”

Dick wasn’t given a chance to reply. Immediately after the words left Tim’s mouth, Damian’s fingers were digging back into his stomach, clawing clumsily into his abs. Despite that, it still tickled pretty well. He was clearly unpracticed, but he was doing his best to mimic the torment all of them had inflicted upon him.

Then Tim started in on his underarms, and all hope of Dick keeping his composure was lost. Tim was always nothing if not precise, and apparently that carried over to tickling, too. His fingers travelled slowly around his designated space, paying attention to every tug of Dick’s arms or twitch of his torso.

Dick couldn’t help but burst into laughter, tossing his head back and finally squirming for real. He never could hold still while tickled, even if he tried. Everyone always seemed to find it hilarious; Bruce teased him about it to no end, and the Titans had a habit of teaming up to pin down every limb and tickle him breathless. He wrenched at his arms, but even when Dick wasn’t weakened from laughter, Jason was stronger than him. It would take some tricky Bat shenanigans to get out of his grip, and that was something that being tickled didn’t exactly leave him the brain power for.

“You’re all gonna regret this!” Dick called out.

Jason scoffed and muttered, “Yeah, right.” He raised his voice to direct their brothers. “He can still talk – time to kick things up. Timmy, ribs. Dami, sides.”

Confusion flashed through Dick as they switched spots, his laughter trailing down into giggles. Stomach and sides, they were pretty similar for the most part, but moving from armpits to ribs? How was that meant to be worse for Dick? Then as Tim’s fingers spidered down his ribs and Damian’s fingers crawled up his sides, Jason’s plan hit Dick like a truck.

“Don’t you dare–”

Jason grinned down at him, toothy and mischievous – a spitting image of the grin Jason wore whenever he donned the Robin costume as a teen. For a brief moment, Dick’s heart ached. 

“Boys, focus just on the side closest to you, keep up exactly what you’re doing.” 

The heartache was swiftly replaced by excited panic.

Tim and Damian exchanged a confused look but obeyed Jason nonetheless. It was the easiest he’d ever seen either of them take orders – maybe he should let them team up against him more often, if it would make them this agreeable. Team bonding and all that jazz.

And then Damian’s fingers hit that horrible spot just beneath his ribs and Dick lost all coherent thought. He shrieked with laughter, rolling his upper body away from Damian’s fingers as far as he could. Both Tim and Damian jumped at the sound, pulling away briefly. Then, Tim gave him an absolutely evil grin.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

“Timmy–” Dick said, wriggling like a worm under Jason as Tim and Damian shuffled back into place. “Timmy, you don’t have to do this.”

“You’re right, I don’t.” Tim made eye contact. “But I’m going to, anyway.”

Dick yelped and jolted to the side as Tim’s fingers approached. He turned his pleading look on Damian. “Come on, kiddo – you had your fun. Let’s just watch the movie, yeah?”

Damian raised his eyebrows. “Do you think me a fool, Richard?”

Jason leaned down, looking Dick in the eyes. “You deserve this, asshole.”

Tim’s fingers latched onto that awful spot, and Damian’s fingers weren’t far behind. Dick shrieked again, arching his back to try and escape, but with Jason sitting across his thighs, he had nowhere to go. He collapsed back onto the carpet, cackling like a madman.

Tim continued to be methodical in his exploration, feeling out the exact boundaries of the tickle spot by gauging Dick’s reactions. Once he’d figured that out, he went to town with every tickle method in the books: spidering, massaging, wiggling, tracing, squeezing. He was probably trying to find the most effective way to pick Dick apart, but Dick didn’t think it really mattered. Every single one of them made Dick lose his mind.

Damian, though he would likely stab Dick for saying so, was a bit more clumsy – but that didn’t mean it tickled any less. He started with pokes and prods, feeling out the tickle spot similarly to Tim, before going in with quick, sporadic squeezes that were absolutely ruthless on his hypersensitive nerves. Every once in a while he switched to wiggling his fingers deep into the muscles there, something that made Dick jolt every time, but he seemed more partial to the squeezing than anything else.

And the whole time Jason just watched, a taunting grin on his face. Sometimes, if Dick made a particularly amusing sound, Jason (and the boys) would laugh along with him. In other moments, Jason teased him, and Dick knew if the laughter hadn’t already stained his cheeks red, Jason’s words would’ve done the trick.

“What’s wrong, Dickie? Can’t take your own medicine?”

“Whoops, that one really tickled, didn’t it? Dames, do that again, he jumped like, a fucking foot in the air.”

“Timmy’s fuckin’ ruthless, huh? Bet you regret tickling the shit outta him. How’s revenge feeling, Big Bird?”

“God, if only Bruce were here. You think he’d break out the Bat-camera, take a picture of his golden child getting the snot tickled out of him? Seems like something the old man would do, the damn sap. I bet he’d put it on his desk in the study, and then you’d have to see yourself getting tickled to death every time you went down to the Batcave.”

This was it. This was how Dick died. He could barely even protest or call out threats of his own, he was laughing so hard. His brain had turned into absolute mush, though the space between his ribs felt lighter than he had in a while. Goddammit, this was fun, and that was something he could never let his brothers know – at least, not more than Jason already knew. They’d never let him live it down and he’d never go another Gotham visit without one of them trying to stage an attack. Not that he’d exactly be complaining, but he was the oldest sibling, it was kind of his job to tickle the shit out of the rest of them.

“Let ‘im breath for a sec,” Jason said after an eternity. “Just a quick break.”

Dick gasped for air as Tim and Damian pulled their hands away, looking far too smug for his liking. Dick breathed out a threatening chuckle. “Oh, you’re all so going to regret this, later. I’m gonna tickle you until you cry.”

Jason hummed. “Big talk for someone still pinned to the carpet.”

“Can’t keep me pinned forever, Little Wing.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. “No, but we can provide plenty of discouragement.”

Dick matched his expression, twisting his hands in Jason’s grip. Whatever was coming, it was about to tickle like hell. The butterflies returned to his stomach in full-force, feeling almost ticklish in their own right. Totally not fair.

“Do your worst,” Dick said.

“You heard him, boys.” Jason gave his wrists a quick squeeze, whether reassurance or a threat to behave, Dick wasn’t sure. “Do your worst.”

Damian immediately took that as incentive to begin again, Tim following not far behind. They tickled everywhere they could reach – armpits, neck, ribs, stomach, hips. Expectedly, though unfortunately for Dick’s sanity, they both seemed rather keen on returning to that soft spot just beneath his ribs, over and over and over again.

As Dick cackled and snorted and wheezed, just generally laughing his lungs out, Jason gave his wrists another squeeze.

“Alright – keep an eye out for flying limbs.”

“Todd – what?”

“Jay, don’t let him go!”

Jason didn’t listen, freeing his wrists after just a moment more. His hands flew to Tim and Damian’s tickling fingers, but the laughter and ticklish sensations had made him so weak and feeble that he had no hope of actually pushing them away. All he could do was hold on for dear life, only letting go when they started to crawl up his ribs or try to sneak into his underarms, snapping his arms to his sides as his last line of defense.

Jason only gave him a few moments to process his newly freed limbs before making his own attack. The moment Jason’s fingers touched down on Dick’s thighs, he screamed. Tim and Damian’s fingers faltered, but they didn’t pull back this time, apparently getting used to Dick’s dramatic reactions. Jason squeezed at the muscles, massaging into pressure points just right to turn the touch unbearably ticklish. Whenever he found a weaker spot, somewhere that really made Dick squirm and his legs jolt, he honed in with dangerous precision until Dick’s laughter was almost silent. Tears of mirth were beading up at the corners of his eyes, his lungs burning with the force of his laughter. It was almost euphoric.

“Home stretch!” Dick heard Jason call over his near-deafening laughter.

Dick had no time to mentally prepare as the three of them honed in on every worst spot imaginable. Damian and Tim returned full-force to those spots under his ribs, using all the knowledge they’d gained from their experimentation to drive him mad. Jason, somehow having memorized all those hyper-senstive little spots on his legs from his own brief exploration, narrowed in on them with a marksman’s precision.

Bruce had never gotten Dick this bad in his life. The man only had two hands, after all – not six. While he was known to jump between the sweet spots on his sides and his ridiculously ticklish legs, he could really only get one side and one leg at once. Between Jason, Tim, and Damian, they could tackle every debilitating tickle spot with ease.

He didn’t even think the Titans had ever gotten him this bad. Sure, they would make a game of pinning him down and tickling him breathless, but even they had never been this ruthless. They didn’t shy away from his worst spots, but they’d never targeted them like this before. Probably because they didn’t want to kill him. His brothers had no such reservations.

The tears finally leaked out of the corners of Dick’s eyes. His laughter grew hoarse, starting to fall silent from the intensity. His lungs and abs burned from the workout. The sensations started to overwhelm him, almost more than he could handle.

“Okay!” Dick called with the air he had left, slapping one hand repeatedly against the carpet. “Okay, okay!”

Jason pulled back immediately, Tim and Damian quickly following suit. Jason’s weight left his body, but Dick barely noticed. He melted into the carpet and shut his eyes, his body completely boneless. Every limb felt like overcooked pasta, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own right now if he tried. Dick wanted to be annoyed at them for going so far, he really did, but… as much as he hated to admit it, he’d had a lot of fun.

“I warned you not to trifle with them, young master,” Alfred’s voice rang from the doorway. 

Dick coughed a little between his leftover giggles, trying to clear his throat. “You know me, Alfie. Never was all that good at listening.”

Alfred sighed, though it sounded distinctly fond. “Quite so, Master Dick.” His footsteps grew closer, so Dick peeled his eyes open, seeing Alfred hold out a chilled bottle of water. “I suppose it’s too much to think that you might’ve finally learned your lesson.”

Dick gave him a tired grin, reaching out one jellied arm for the water bottle. It seemed to be answer enough, because Alfred just smiled and shook his head.

“I’m sure your father will enjoy seeing you boys getting along.”

Dick’s eyes went wide and he shot up into a sitting position, immediately getting a headrush. Damian and Tim rushed to steady him, while Jason snatched the water bottle out of his hands to crack it open.

“Did you send him pictures?”

“Perhaps next time, if you’d like to remain undetected, avoid screaming.”

Dick’s face, which had finally begun cooling down, flushed with warmth again. Alfred’s eyes twinkled with good humor as he turned to leave the room.

“Are you quite alright, Richard?”

Dick groaned, quickly returning to his floor time with a controlled collapse. A moment later, his now-open water bottle was pressed into his hand.

“I’m fine, Dami. Just tickled out.”

Jason snorted. “Serves you right.”

Dick rolled his eyes and chugged some of the cool water, careful not to choke since he was still lying down. Tim screwed the cap back on as he pulled it away from his mouth, having somehow stolen it off Jason already.

“Maybe you’ll think twice before you tickle me next,” he said.

Dick flicked him on the forehead. “Not a chance, Baby Bird.”

“We made him beg–”

Dick squawked, slapping at Jason’s knee. “I did not beg! I just said I had enough!”

“– he’s definitely gonna make sure we regret it.” Despite his words, Jason ws remarkably relaxed.

Tim and Damian on the other hand, eyed him warily. He let out a weary chuckle. “Don’t worry – you’re all safe at least until the end of the night. Now, somebody carry me to the couch. I’m not moving again until tomorrow afternoon.”

His brothers rolled their eyes, but twenty minutes later, Dick was half-dragged, half-carried into Tim’s very structurally sound pillow fort as Jason set up the movie. Damian helped Alfred carry in some snacks (and Alfred definitely looked constipated at the sight of all the junk food) before immediately cuddling up to Dick’s side without even a complaint. Five minutes later, he had a pile of brothers on top of him while some period piece played on the TV.

It was nice. Dick was warm, surrounded by his brothers, and eating his weight in pizza and popcorn while he still could. His chest still had that light, airy feeling, though it felt like something was melting between his ribs at the same time. The feeling only intensified as Damian snuggled into his ribs and Tim rubbed his head under Dick’s chin like a cat.

But even still, Dick thought as he watched Jason stack snack cakes on a half-asleep Tim’s spine, no matter how sweet his brothers were being now… he would make certain that his revenge against them was just as ruthless. They didn’t deserve anything less.

[ticklishlersworld]

Everyone has a weakness…

(Idk who the artist is)

[fourthavecafe]

one where sakuna has no idea what stretch marks are and reader has done and they’re on tickle spots

♡ ──── ୨ৎ──── ♡

You huffed, tugging your shirt off and tossing it onto the bed. Sukuna sat nearby, legs spread in his usual dominant sprawl, watching you with his usual lazy expression.

His presence alone made the air thick with tension but you were too caught up in your own frustration to care.

Your fingers pinched at the skin on your hip as you let out a dramatic sigh. "Ugh. I hate these stupid stretch marks."

Sukuna blinked. "What?"

You frowned, twisting to get a better look at yourself in the mirror. "These lines. They're all over my thighs, hips and belly,look !” You gestured wildly, your voice rising with exasperation. "They're barely visible but I know they're there,It's so annoying."

Sukuna didn't respond. Not verbally, at least.

Instead, he stared at you, unmoving, his sharp gaze darkening with something unreadable.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" you asked, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

His jaw tightened. "You're an idiot."

You blinked. "Excuse me?"

Before you could protest further, Sukuna grabbed your waist and yanked you onto his lap, making you yelp. His large hands easily engulfed your hips as he pulled you closer, his expression carved into something dangerously serious.

"You whine too much over nonsense” he muttered, his claws dragging over your skin, tracing the faint lines you had just been complaining about.

You shivered at the sensation, squirming slightly. "It's not nonsense! They're ugly!"

Sukuna let out a low growl, squeezing your thigh almost possessively. "They are marks,that's all. Your body changes so what?" He leaned in, scrutinizing the stretch marks with narrowed eyes. "I don't even understand what you're crying about."

His fingers tightened slightly around your hip, testing the elasticity of your skin. His claws ghosted along the sensitive area and before you could stop it, a giggle slipped past your lips.

Sukuna's eyes snapped to yours.

You stiffened.

A slow, dangerous smirk stretched across his face.

"Oh?" His fingers flexed against your lower belly, his curiosity shifting into something much more devious. "What was that?"

Your breath hitched. "W-Wait, hold on-"

Too late.

Sukuna wasted no time in launching his attack. His claws skittered across your hips, dipping into the curves of your waist before trailing to your thighs. You shrieked, twisting in his grasp as laughter bubbled out of you uncontrollably.

"AH! Sukuna—!"

"Now this" he rumbled, enjoying the way you trembled under his touch "this is much better than all that whining."

He dug his fingers into the flesh of your lower belly, drawing another peal of laughter from you. You squirmed helplessly in his lap, gasping between giggles but Sukuna's grip was firm unyielding.

"Stop! Hahaha! | c-can't—!"

His smirk widened. "Then stop being stupid."

He kneaded at your hips, his claws grazing every sensitive spot he could find. You were breathless, barely able to think through the ticklish onslaught. But through the haze of your laughter, you caught the way he was watching you not just amused but satistied.

The way your pout had melted into giggles.

The way your body shook-not in frustration, but in something much sweeter.

Sukuna hummed, finally slowing his assault.

He dragged a hand up to cup your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed against your cheek, his voice softer, but still rough.

"You're lucky I like you" he muttered. "Even when you're being an idiot."

You pouted-only for him to dig his fingers into your side one last time, making you squeal.

"Okay, okay! I get it!" you gasped between lingering giggles, swatting at his hands.

"Truce!"

Sukuna chuckled darkly, pressing a quick bite against your shoulder before settling back. His grip on you remained firm, as if he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon.

"Good" he said, smirking against your skin.

"Now shut up about your so-called 'ugly marks' before I decide to tickle you until morning."

[keke-theswitch]

I decided to make this for y'all hehe 🥰

[jettorii]

“humans truly are fascinating..” you grumble, a choked laugh escaping your lips as you tried your best to hold in your laughter while tendrils slowly roamed around your torso. they stretched your arms above your head, pulling your arms down even the slightest becoming impossible. all you could do was tremble, as you were completely exposed to the curious yet gentle tickling from your symbiote.

it didnt help that his face was directly in front of yours, staring intently at you, observing every reaction you gave to each move he made. a toothy grin greeting you everytime you peeked your eyes open while shaking your head to distract yourself from the sensation.

“does this tickle?” venom rumbled, making you gasp as his tendrils moved their way to your ribs, poking sporadically, each one making you squeak and jerk at every single touch. he chuckled at your reaction, a low laugh thundering through your head.

you desperately try to keep your thoughts organized, as since hes already found out your deepest secret, whats stopping him now from finding what works best on you?

pretty much nothing, as his tendrils were getting horribly close to a spot you did not want him finding out about. but nevertheless, it was impossible. he knew everything, and was reading you like a book at which poke made you react the best.

then the tendrils travelled to your collarbone. you tensed up unknowingly in preparation for where he almost got to, until finally realizing he stopped. you opened your eyes breathing heavily, only to see his usual shit eating grin, even wider than usual.

“each and every thought you have, you cant hide.” he sneers, his tongue flicking at your neck, a screech near threatening to come out. “we share the same thoughts, there's nowhere to escape.”

he pauses, tendrils sneaking up.

“not where, exactly?”

…shit.

[mah-t-wordblog]

HELLOOO AGAIN :)) <3

Do you ThInk you could PosSibly do AA Lee!Inumaki OR lee!yuji with a Ler!gojo

-🌀

Small rant just want to say how much I LOVE your fanfiction, you do so well and their so good! Would probably die without them ❤️❤️

I thinks that’s my first jjk request?? Ofc I choose my baby boy Toge, cause he is my favorite ever!!! And thanks so so so much! Hope u like it! 💛💛

Don't say anything

Lee: Toge Inumaki

Ler: Satoro Gojo

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Toge Inumaki was one of the freshmen that year, one of Satoro Gojo's new students, and for him, by far the most mysterious

Gojo already knew that the reason he only communicated using onigiri ingredients was to protect others around him since he came from a family that used cursed speech, that is, whatever he said could happen

But he wanted to see if this boy could control his instincts and not speak at all in special situations

"Hello, Toge!" Gojo greeted him, they were meeting in a training room that had nothing very interesting, just some objects thrown on the floor and a training dummy, the thing that stood out the most was a chair where Gojo was sitting

"Okaka" Inumaki bowed, greeting his teacher

"Do you know why I called you here today?"

“Tuna” the boy shook his head from side to side

“I’d like to do a different training with you” Gojo stood up and walked towards Inumaki “a training to see how long you can last without saying a real word”

“Hm… salmon?” It seemed that Inumaki hadn’t understood

“Let’s see… you only communicate with onigiri ingredients, I’d like to see how long you can last without using your power on me” Gojo approached and gave a mischievous smile

The boy took a step back, clearly scared

“Oh, no, no, no! Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, of course not”

Inumaki made an expression that meant exactly: ?

“I need you to stay still, that’s it, right there”

The boy obeyed, standing exactly where he was

“Now… Toge… are you ticklish?”

“Salmon!?” Inumaki blushed, he squirmed a little and hugged his body with his own arms, trying to protect himself

“I guess that’s a yes, huh?~”

Gojo attacked him, squeezing his sides, the shock made Inumaki laugh out loud, but he soon covered his mouth, embarrassed

The man raised his hands a little higher, now squeezing the poor boy’s ribs

Inumaki staggered, he lost the strength in his legs and ended up falling to the ground, Gojo took the opportunity to climb on his waist and hold his wrists with one hand above his head

“Salmon! Sahahahahalmohohohohon!” The boy shook his head from side to side

“Whats the matter?~ Am I close to your weak spot?” Gojo moved his fingers provocatively just above Inumaki’s armpits

“Okahahahaka!”

Gojo finally put an end to the boy's suffering, he dug his free hand into one of Inumaki's armpits.

The blond squeaked and started kicking in every possible direction.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! TUHUHUNAHAHAHA *squeak*"

"Oh~ what a cute noise~ do your friends know you make those noises when you're being tickled?"

"EHEHEHEHEAHAHAHAHA!"

"Don't worry, I won't tell them, hm... I want to test something" Gojo let go of the boy's hands, but didn't stop scratching his armpits.

Inumaki was too preoccupied laughing, he didn't even see that the white-haired man had lifted his shirt and...

"*pppbbbfffttt* Do you like raspberries, Toge?" The poor boy's eyes widened and his mouth opened even wider.

"SAHAHAHAHAHALMOHOHOHOHOHOHON!"

“Do you want me to stop? Ask me to stop then, talk to me *pppbbbfffttt*”

Inumaki closed his eyes, he grabbed Gojo’s head who was blowing raspberries on his belly with as much force as he could

With a push, he kicked Gojo’s body away

“Huh! Ouch…” the man laughed “you really did it”

“Salmon! Okaka!” The boy got worried and apologized

“Don’t worry, I knew this would happen” Gojo stood up with a little pain “you exceeded my expectations, kid”

He walked over to Inumaki and stroked his hair, the boy was confused

“Hm… Okaka” but he smiled, at least he had done something that impressed his teacher

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

[moczinsfwmacza]

I never really understood why people thirst over this mf so much BUT NOW I GET IT HES VERY TICKLE-ABLE-

[gelo00]

The urge to tickle a lee’s pussy through the fabric of their panties with just my nails until they lose their mind is through the roof. Anyone care to take care of that?

[fourthavecafe]

could you please write for killua (we’re basically gon ya know killua and reader are besties) and killua is teasing us about how we’re so physically weak for being ticklish 

killua using his assassin techniques for something much cuter

────୨ৎ────

You and Killua were casually hanging out, somehow getting into a conversation about human weaknesses. Killua, leaning back on the couch, casually dropped facts about body pressure points and pain tolerance, his eyes flickering with that usual mix of disinterest and hidden knowledge.

“Y’know, there are about 108 human weak points. The ribs, for example… I could practically disable someone with just a poke.”

You smirked, trying to appear brave. “I could handle it.”

Killua raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh really?” His voice had that familiar teasing edge. “You? Handle it?”

Before you could take back your words, in a blur of motion, he was beside you, fingers poised. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you” he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

Suddenly, his finger poked at your upper ribs. But instead of feeling pain, a giggle escaped your lips. Killua blinked, momentarily stunned. “Wait… what?”

You burst into more giggles, trying to scoot away, but he didn’t let up, his eyes narrowing as if you were some puzzle he was trying to solve. “Why are you laughing? I poked your weak spot. You’re supposed to be in pain.”

“It…tickles!” you managed to gasp between laughs.

Killua’s face shifted into one of utter confusion but there was a glint in his eyes now—he was intrigued. And if there was anything Killua liked, it was having the upper hand. “Ticklish? Seriously?”

Before you could reply, his fingers darted toward your sides again, this time prodding your ribs and underarms. A shriek of laughter erupted from you as you squirmed helplessly. “Killua, stop!” you pleaded, trying to catch your breath.

But he was grinning now, clearly enjoying himself. “Your biggest weakness is ticklishness? Wow, you’re more pathetic than I thought” he teased, though the playful tone softened the insult. “How are you supposed to handle anything if this is all it takes to bring you down?”

You were a wriggling mess at this point, and Killua didn’t relent. His fingers found your belly, then your bellybutton, sending you into another fit of uncontrollable giggles. “Right here too, huh?” he said, smirking. “You’re just full of weak spots.”

“St-stop!” you choked out, laughing so hard that tears pricked your eyes.

He finally eased up but hovered close, eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I’ve faced off against some dangerous people” he mused, crossing his arms and leaning back as if reflecting on your ticklish defeat. “But I’ve never seen anyone so weak to… this.”

You gave him a half-hearted glare, still catching your breath. “You’re such a jerk.”

He snickered, flicking your forehead lightly. “You’re the one who said you could handle it.” There was a pause, then softer, almost like he didn’t mean for you to hear it: “You’re lucky you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered.”

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. But before you could process, Killua was already back to his usual self, standing up and stretching like nothing had happened.

“Anyway, now that I know your weakness, I guess I’ve got some serious leverage over you” he said, flashing a wicked grin. “So you better watch out.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah… You’ll pay for this, Killua.”

He just gave you a nonchalant wave as he walked away, but there was that slight, rare hint of a smile still playing on his lips.

[as-the-crows-feather-falls]

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

Too Stubborn for Your Own Good

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

Summary: After returning to the lab early in the morning, Jayce Talis discovers that a certain someone never made it home. When his partner turns down his offers for breakfast, wishing to keep working on their latest hextech project, Jayce gets creative

Warnings: SFW, minor language, this is a tickle fic so if that’s not your thing keep scrolling :)

Author notes: first ever tk fic so uhhhh yeah enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome

——————————————————————————

Jayce walked through the halls of the academy, blearily rubbing his eyes with a yawn. He had wanted to get an early start on their latest hextech invention, picking up where Viktor left off last night. He was glad to get an early jump on the day, but man he did not want to leave his bed this morning.

He finally reached the doors to the lab and clumsily dug in his pockets for his keys, only to find the doors were already unlocked.

Odd.

He pushed through to find Viktor hunched over the desk, working meticulously with a screwdriver in hand. Jayce furrowed his brow with a small frown as he approached his partner.

He put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, causing the other man to spook briefly before looking up at him.

“Oh, hello Jayce.”

“G’morning, V,” Jayce returned the greeting through a muffled yawn. He looked around at the work station, and the gears of the new machine. It was a lot further along than Jayce would have expected. Which meant someone didn’t keep his word about going to bed at a reasonable hour.

“Did you go home last night?” Jayce asked, his tone verging on scolding.

“What time is it?” Viktor didn’t look up from his work.

“6:30.”

“Then no.”

Jayce pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. “Viktor-“

“I know, I know,” his partner sighed.

“You said you would sleep.”

“I did sleep.”

“How many hours?”

Viktor went silent at that, keeping his gaze firmly on his work but biting the inside of his cheek. “…I slept.”

“Jesus, Viktor,” Jayce couldn’t help but chuckle. This man would be the death of him, he swears. “Listen, why don’t you take a break. We can take a walk down to that café you like, get some breakfast and coffee. If you’re not gonna rest that brilliant brain of yours,” he ruffled his friend’s hair, earning an indignant yelp from him as he batted Jayce’s hand away, “at least give it some well-deserved fuel.”

Viktor drove a hand through his messy brown hair. “This brilliant brain is currently deep in thought working on this. You go ahead.”

“Viktor, you need to eat.” Jayce leaned down and tilted his head to better glare at his partner. “Don’t make me drag a cripple out of this lab.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Jayce, I will join you once I finish this.”

“And how long will that take?”

Viktor shrugged and worked at a stubborn gear on the machine with the screwdriver in his hold, his nose scrunching slightly. His work was abruptly put to an end when the screwdriver was promptly snatched from his grip. He sighed and turned slowly to face the other man, now standing a few paces away.

“I know for a fact you did not just do that.”

Jayce waved the screwdriver with an infuriatingly smug grin on his face. “Promise me you’ll take a break and join me for breakfast, and you can have it back.”

Viktor scrubbed a hand down his face. “You are such a child. Fine. I promise.” He held out a hand a made a quick grabbing motion. “Now give it back.”

Jayce huffed a small laugh as he handed the screwdriver back to his partner. He took a step towards the door, expecting Viktor to follow him, only for the other man to turn around and get back to work.

“Viktor.”

His partner barely looked at him, but the look given was oh so smug. “What? I promised I’d join you for breakfast. You never said what time.”

Jayce put his hands on his hips, amazed at the pure audacity of his partner. Even more so when Viktor chuckled to himself before turning his full attention to the task at hand.

“You stubborn little…You know what? Fine! We’ll play it your way.”

Viktor didn’t have time to register the threat before Jayce’s burly arms wrapped around his middle and hauled him out of his seat.

“Jayce! What the hell?!” Viktor squirmed and writhed violently, his heels dragging across the floor.

“I told you, don’t make me drag a cripple out of this lab. You have forced my hand, my friend.”

He held on firmly to the man in his hold before Viktor stopped squirming altogether, going completely limp. Suddenly dead weight in Jayce’s arms, he slipped from his grip and resigned to lying starfished on the ground. Jayce stood over him, brows raised. He appeared upside down to Viktor, and mixed with his expression of pure audacity it was quite the silly sight to behold. Viktor had to bite his cheek to fight a smile.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

Instead of providing any proper response, Viktor gave into the childish antics and stuck his tongue out at his partner, relishing the ways his brows shot up even further and his mouth parted briefly in shock.

Jayce bit his lip with a grin, looking to the side. “Alright then, tough guy, you asked for this.”

Jayce wasn’t sure where he had gotten the idea from. Perhaps it was from when his mother used to tickle him silly when he refused to clean his room as a child, or maybe the countless times he had pinned little Caitlyn down and blew raspberry after raspberry on her belly when she out-sassed him. Wherever it came from, he found himself stepping over Viktor and wasting no time shoving his hands under his arms.

They were quite lucky their lab was rather secluded, given the volume of Viktor’s resulting shriek. His back arched and he began to squirm violently, a smile splitting his face as he began to laugh. “W-wait! Wahahahahait JahahAHAHAYCE! Jayce plehehehehehease!”

“Don’t Jayce, please me, you little shit,” His assailant retorted, grinning. “You brought his upon yourself and you know it!”

Viktor was trying to say something to him, but couldn’t quite get it out through his laughter. His arms were clamped over Jayce’s hands as he tried to block out the buzzing sensation. This did nothing but encourage Jayce, who pulled one hand out from their assault on his partner’s underarms and used it to scribble along Viktor’s stomach.

“Nonononono Jahahahayce! JAHAHAHAYCE! I cahahahaHAHAHAHA- I cahahan’t!!!” Viktor batted helplessly at Jayce’s hands, his legs kicking weakly behind him. He couldn’t even remember the last time he was tickled. It definitely hasn’t been since before he left the undercity. His nerves were going absolutely ballistic, Jayce’s fingers sending little fireworks all over his abdomen. He’d never admit it to Jayce’s face, but he couldn’t help find it a little fun, albeit near-unbearable. To Viktor’s misfortune, his partner knew what he was doing.

Jayce was grinning from ear to ear. Seeing Viktor laughing his heart out, his hair mussed and his normally pale cheeks tinged pink, sent butterflies fluttering and flipping in his stomach. Viktor laughing unapologetically like this was already a rare sight to behold, but to be the cause of that laughter was a gift. He couldn’t help but chuckle along with his friend. His laugh was unexpectedly contagious.

“Are you gonna take care of yourself and get breakfast with your best friend? Or are you gonna keep being stubborn?” he smirked, stalling his attack and planting his hands on his knees as he stood over his partner.

“Eheheheh…in your dreheheams, Talis.”

Viktor wasn’t sure what he was expecting, his pride getting in the way of all rational thought, but he knew he was done for when Jayce’s grin grew crooked, one of his canines peeking over his lip. Viktor’s stomach started doing somersaults.

Shit.

“Ohhhhohohoh okay,” Jayce chuckled. “Your funeral, buddy.”

Viktor could only try his best to curl into a ball as Jayce kneeled down next to him, secured him belly-up with one arm, made a big show of taking a deep breath, and buried his face in Viktor’s stomach as he blew a massive raspberry into it, shaking his head back and forth.

The reaction was more than Jayce could have ever wished to receive. Viktor threw his head back in mirth, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. It was the loudest Jayce had ever heard him laugh, and Viktor’s wide smile alone warmed Jayce to his core.

“GAHAHAHAHAHA ALRIHIHIHIGHT!!! ALRIHIHIHIGHT YOU WIN!!! YOU WIHIHIHIN JAYCE PLEHEHEHEASE!!!” Viktor finally cried through his laughter, shoving desperately at Jayce’s face.

“Okahay, okay, V, I’ll stop.” He gave a quick pat to Viktor’s stomach before sitting back, leaning his weight on his hands and smiling as he watched Viktor recover from his giggle fit. The other man was greedily gasping for air and his arms hugged his middle. “Pfft, are you alright?” He chuckled.

“You…” Viktor glared, “evil…evil man.”

Jayce burst out laughing. “You think that’s evil, you should talk to Cait. She’s got some horror stories from when she was little.”

“Yes,” Viktor gave a malicious grin. “Perhaps she could tell me how to get revenge on your ocel.”

Jayce held up his hands defensively. “Hehehey, let’s save that for another time, huh? We’ve still got a lovely breakfast waiting for us and a machine to finish.”

Viktor gave a long, groaning sigh, looking up at the ceiling, before he stretched his hand towards it. “Help me up.”

Jayce happily obliged, standing himself before grabbing Viktor’s arm and hauling him to his feet as well, leaving him briefly to retrieve his cane for him. Viktor let Jayce put his arm around him as the two walked out of the lab. He briefly bumped his head against Jayce’s shoulder before giving a thoughtful hum.

“Toast and fruit with sweetmilk doesn’t sound too horrible right now.”

Jayce gave Viktor a small squeeze as they walked. His heart felt happy and full, holding his best friend close after starting the day with smiles and laughter. “I knew I could knock some sense into you.”

“Don’t you dare make it a habit.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[nikki27lee]

These belly reactions always fills me with goosebumps like I literally can't imagine slight touch on my tummy 🤯. How dare you to touch me there 😠 and the second gif is literally hell 😭😭