#ticklish golden guard

[thebest-medicine]

prompt 102 with hunter pranking willow?

Prompt 102 - “You are so going to regret that!”

A/N: i literally love huntlow so much ugh here’s him being a very dumb flirt with plant queen

...

Hunched over in the Noceda garden, Willow finds herself more content than she has been in a long time. It also helps that Hunter is out here with her, though he’s gone to fetch some more tools from the back shed. She smiles to herself as she awaits his quick return. They’ve been getting to spend a lot more time together since being stuck in the human realm.

“Hey Willow?” Hunter calls out, not far off now.

“Yeah?” She says without turning around.

“I think it’s starting to rain again!” He says. Suddenly she’s being sprinkled with hose water as Hunter shoots some into the air above her, it falls like rain, making her jump.

“Ahhh! Ha haa!” Willow shrieks, starting to laugh. She dodges to the side but the ‘rain’ follows her. Hunter is grinning as she yelps out another laugh and then starts directly toward him. “You are so going to regret that!”

Hunter grins and speeds back toward the house, laughing as Willow bolts right after him.

As he goes to grab for Flapjack, he finds himself tripping over the already shaped staff that has appeared in front of him. Flap shifts back and chirps in amusement as Hunter splashes down into the mud. He gets up onto his elbows just as Willow leaps onto him pressing him into the dirt with a laugh.

“Thanks for the assist, Flapjack!” Willow chuckles, and then her fingers are all over Hunter’s sides, pinching down to his hips.

Hunter squeals this time, kicking and throwing his arms against the ground dramatically. He starts laughing within moments, shaking his head as Willow gets more than enough revenge for the prank he just pulled.

“I-I heheheheehee ‘m sorryhehehe!” Hunter cries.

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Willow giggles, slowing her hands down. She shifts her weight onto her knees and off of him, letting him turn over. They lock eyes for a moment, blushing. She fumbles and stands up quickly. “Heh, don’t try that again.”

Hunter sits up, takes her outstretching hand and gets to his feet, still giggling. “Don’t worry. I’ve learned my lesson.”

“For now.” She gives him a skeptical eyebrow raise before laughing. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.”

...

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further TOH drabbles on ao3]

[roolette]

Bi han,johnny cage,raiden with a fem reader who's a golden retriever vibes(especially bi han I'm a slut for golden retriever and black cat duos)

Waaaa this is so cute omg!!

Bi-Han

A pairing that surprised most people, yet works out so well

You balance each other out, and that’s what’s great about it. Bi-Han has the tendency to get in his head and take himself too seriously, so having someone like you in his life is really helpful

You’re the best at getting him to laugh. People think he’s tough to crack, but those people don’t know him like you do

Don’t tell anyone, but he likes to lie against your chest after a long day and let you run your fingers through his hair. No one else is allowed to see him like this. He trusts you

On the other hand, he helps you know when you need to slow down, relax, and focus. He admires your energy, but everyone gets burnt out sometimes. He reminds you to pace yourself

Please surprise him with random kisses. Please do it. It catches him so off guard and it’s so cute

Basically you guys are the couple ever and it’s so sweet

Johnny Cage

Golden retriever for golden retriever couple Fr

Sometimes you too get into such energetic, fast and heated conversations that literally no one around you can decipher what you’re saying

You two are SO cuddly with each other. You’ll sit in his lap and pepper his face with kisses. Did I mention he’s ticklish?

Late night conversations that leave your stomachs hurting from laughter

You two keep up with each other’s energy easily. He makes a movie reference? You’re shooting back with one right away. 3 am snack run? He’s already at the door

Random piggy back rides from him. Need I say more

On a serious note, Johnny really cherishes your relationship. It feels like he’s found someone who sees his more outgoing and extroverted traits as positive traits, not just something they have deal with. You’re someone who likes all of him, not just selective aspects of him

Power couple Fr

Raiden

PLEASE. Give him ALL the love and affection in the world

He loves your energy, and with the two of you together, there is just so much love to give. He likes to hold you in his arms and just kiss every inch of your face

Your energy matches, but you can EASILY fluster him. Whisper in his ear, run your hand across his arm? He’s swooning immediately

He’s someone who has a lot of love, and needs someone who can match that. Luckily, you’re the perfect person

He’s easy to make laugh, so you gotta use this to your advantage. His nose scrunches up when he laughs and it’s the cutest thing

An achingly sweet relationship

[zhongrin]

gemesin

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, xiao, childe, al haitham, tighnari, kazuha, cyno, scaramouche, diluc

◇ tags ◇ more teeth-rotting floof what did you expect, slightly suggestive (al haitham)

◇ note ◇ translated to english, means “adorable” or “cute”

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

some (or in some of these cases, most) people wouldn't associate the word “cute” with your boyfriend, but you beg to differ.

the way he just hovers and lingers over you whenever he wants your company but doesn’t want to disturb you. if you keep ignoring him, he wouldn’t even realize it himself, but he’ll give you a wet puppy (hatchling?) look. at first, you might have thought that your eyes were playing tricks on you, but if you glance through the mirror - yup, there it is. best abandon whatever you’re doing and give him some attention now.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9/10

once in a while, upon your continuous insistence, xiao will transform into his bird form. a tiny little thing, with magical blue-green feathers and a darker color on his beak, his signature golden eyes no longer catlike but beady-looking. his favorite nest? the top of your head. yes, he will peck anyone who troubles you without hesitation. yes, he will tuck his head under his wings when he sleeps. and yes, he absolutely enjoys the head pats and chin scratches you give him while he's in this form.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 10/10

drunk kazuha and severely sleepy kazuha has one thing in common: they’re utterly, completely, earth-shatteringly endearing. he’s whinier, more giggly than normal, and is very easily entertained by the slightest things. the simplest action like you booping his nose can instantly make a loopy smile spread across his lips and a breathy giggle escape his throat. oh, and did i tell you that he’s more honest and needier than usual in these states, too?

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9.9/10

when he pouts and whines and pouts and whines and burrows his face onto your stomach like a cat. maybe you didn't give him enough cuddles? forgot to give him his morning kiss? you’re not too sure, but you’re very sure that the way he puffs his cheeks as he gives you an expectant look is just plain adorable.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 9.5/10

this big, stoic-looking man has no weakness…. well, two weaknesses. the first one being you, and the second one being tickle fights. yes, he’s ticklish. yes, you probably discovered this because of kaeya’s big mouth. yes, you most definitely should test the theory. and if you have the physical abilities to catch up with the darknight hero, you might even be able to see a breathless, teary-eyed diluc laughing and almost choking on his own spit because he’s struggling to hold back his laughter as your fingers work their magic on that specific spot on his sides.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 7/10

the momentary drop in his expression as you catch him off guard on one of his rare days is truly a sight to remember. his eyes widening a fraction and his lips parting a tad, body flinching and frozen as his brain tries to kickstart and amend his reaction to a more subdued one. how does one achieve this seemingly impossible feat, you ask? well... either you do something entirely stupid (please note that you might be subjected to a two hours lecture after this) or you do something entirely inappropriate (like pulling him into a kiss in broad daylight in public, but then again, you might regret the consequences later)

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 6.5/10

his ears, his ears, his ears. they’re sometimes even more expressive than his expressions, it’s worth dedicating an entire journal to observe and document their movements. his fox instincts are also very adorable, especially when he’s unconsciously trying to groom his ears and tails whenever his guard is down and he thinks that no one’s around. not many things can rival that endearingness... except perhaps the sight of the sulky pout on his lips when he presents himself to you after his grooming session and you don’t comment on it.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 8/10

when you reply to his bad joke with another bad joke. he’s so lost. and it shows in the way his eyes widen as he stares at you silently, head tilted a tad to the sides, his lips apart. you can literally hear the neurons in his brain working overtime to try and decipher your words. and the confused-slash-slightly-embarrassed lilt of his voice as he asks you to explain? it’s guaranteed to make you want to pinch his cheeks and kiss his nose.

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 — 8.5/10

yeah no, there’s nothing cute about this prickly man…… unless. unless you manage to be the love of his life and earn his complete trust. it’ll take you years and the stars need to align perfectly and you'll need the blessings of all seven archons, but you might get the chance to see the rarest phenomenon in all of teyvat: a sleepy scaramouche, woken up from his slumber, clinging desperately to you when he senses you moving away from him on the bed. he looks like a cat that fell into the bathtub and is only halfway dried with all his hair sticking all over the place like that, but the cutest thing has to be the sleepy pout and the soft whines of “mm, stay with me please…”

Ꮺ 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗶𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗲𝗿 (surprisingly) — 9.5/10 (normally -5/10)

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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[xxtheophilusxx]

Sparks and Laughter: A Bakugo-Todoroki Tale

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[amazingmsme]

Fish Out of Water

AN: after a fun festive weekend I’m back on the grind baby! I’d been looking forward to writing a fic like this ever since I saw some siren!Odysseus art with Penelope a few months ago & knew I just had to write something! Here’s day 25’s fic!

Being chased by Poseidon was perhaps the greatest thing to happen to Odysseus, because it lead him straight to the most beautiful woman he's ever seen. Penelope.

Sure the tides had receded, and he was trapped in a shallow pool, and there wasn't much to eat, but it was worth it for every minute he got to spend with her.

She sat on a rock by the edge, dipping her feet in the cool water as they talked. He leaned against the same rock, halfway out of the water. He propped his head up in one hand, staring at her with a completely lovestruck gaze.

"Your scales are beautiful in this light," she said in awe, watching as the rays of sun bounced off his golden orange scales, blotted with patches of red.

Odysseus hummed in agreement, "Yes you are- I-I mean!" he stuttered to correct himself, cheeks flushing when she giggled. "Yeah, the light really makes the colors pop," he continued, rubbing the back of his neck shyly.

"You know... I've always wondered what your tail feels like. I mean, it's probably the first thing that came to mind," she admitted, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. He immediately perked up, embarrassment forgotten at the prospect.

"Well why didn't you just say so? Curiosity is only natural," he purred, tossing a wink her way. She laughed again, and his heart fluttered. How did he get so lucky?

"My apologies for trying to be polite," she teased right back. She held out her hand, hovering over his tail. "May I?" she asked, waiting for a nod of approval before touching down.

His scales were incredibly smooth, and softer than she was expecting. Even when she rubbed against the scales, they didn't scratch or snag on her skin. There was a slickness to it, like when you touched algae, but not quite.

"You're very smooth," she complimented. His lips quirked up into a proud smirk.

"Thanks. I think the freshwater's been good for my skin. I never really noticed how much the salt dries you out until now," he noted, studying his own scales with the same fascination she was.

"Really? Fascinating?" she continued to pet the smooth scales, enjoying the gentle bump of each scale beneath her nails. It made a soft, satisfying clacking sound that she hummed along to. Odysseus smiled wider, trying not to twitch underneath her touch. He wanted to impress her, not humiliate himself. He bit his lip to dampen his smile, giggles already building up inside his chest. He was grateful that she seemed too busy to notice.

Penelope was completely enthralled. She traced the unique, blotchy patterns, adding just a bit more pressure. His tail was all muscle, and a complete marvel of nature. (Okay, so maybe she just wanted to feel how strong he was, is that such a crime?)

Odysseus sucked in a breath when she pressed against his tail; a sudden electric feeling shot through his body and he bit back a smile. The water splashed when his tail slapped the surface as she struck a particularly sensitive spot. She drew her hand back immediately, worry etching her features.

"Oh I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you!" she was quick to apologize, but Odysseus was just as quick to put her at ease.

"You didn't! It just tickled a little and it caught me off guard," he explain. Her concern faded away to curiosity, a smirk playing at her lips with mischief alight in her eyes.

"It did? I had no idea sirens were ticklish," she purred, scooting closer. Odysseus chuckled nervously and leaned away, but other than that, he made no move to escape.

"Sailors don't like to spread those rumors. They want us to be scary," he joked, barring his teeth and claws to appear more intimidating. If Penelope didn't know him, it probably would've worked.

But she just found out he was ticklish and when he flashed his sharp teeth, all she could think about was a wide, carefree smile. She wondered what his laughter would sound like.

Time to find out.

"And it would be such a shame if the truth came out, wouldn't it?" she asked as she lunged for his tail. He yelped when she began kneading up and down the dense muscles, and he fell back against the rock as honest to the Gods giggles escaped his lips.

Penehehelopehehehe, wahahait!" he cried out, slapping his tail around to try and squirm away. It was no use, and her hands continued to explore his tail.

"What am I waiting for exactly?" she teased, scratching her nails against his scales to create a satisfyingly rhythmic clacking sound, but it could barely be heard over the force of his laughter. His voice head loud and higher pitched than she expected, more like hysterical giggling than anything else. It deepened to carefree belly laughs when she went back to kneading the muscle, managing to draw out a snort.

"I-I dohohon't knohohow!" he admitted, not trying very hard to make her stop. He flopped around on the rock like, well, like a fish out of water. It was cute, a little bit funny, and incredibly endearing.

"Well then, I guess I should just keep going," she cooed, scribbling closer to his flukes. His voice jumped an octave and he tucked his tail close, trying to turn away from her on the rock. She laid across his lap to reach his fins, scribbling and tracing along the thin skin.

"Noooo," he whined playfully, squirming beneath her. He was having the time of his life giggling at the hands of the sweetest, most beautiful woman he's ever met. She was actually touching him, without an ounce of fear or hesitation! She explored this silly weakness they share, eagerly drawing out giggly shrieks and snorts as she lovingly taunted him.

"I think it's pronounced yes," she corrected, snickering to herself as she traced the edges of his fin, softly rubbing them between her thumb and forefinger.

He arched his back and squealed, followed by boisterous laughter as he finally gave up the fight and flopped back down on the rock, completely at her mercy. His smile was so wide, it nearly split his face in two, as he did nothing but laugh. He had every opportunity to escape; hell, all he had to do was roll back in the water, maybe even drag her down with him as payback.

But he didn't want that.

What he really wanted was to laugh the day away in Penelope's arms. Luckily for him, she wanted the same thing.

[st-danger]

Saint how about some hot nasty making out? Just absolutely starving for one another, unable to stop touching, so, so into it. Stoned ghouls, perhaps?

Idk but I want them to drown in each other.

Please <3

The golden hour is particularly nice in Swiss's room, a west-facing window letting the day's sun's dying breaths stream though. It illuminates the haze of the joint, already smoked but lingering. On his bed, Swiss pulls Rain into his lap and twists his finger in one of Rain's curls, toying.

"Hey," Swiss says, meeting Rain's stoned, ever so slightly stupid smile. Red eyes crinkling in the corner; he imagines they match in that regard. He places a hand on Rain's hip, and slowly sneaks his fingers underneath his shirt, drawing a ticklish line over the top of Rain's pants.

"Hi," Rain says back, and then ducks down to rub his nose against Swiss's, and then to brush his lips the barest, most unsatisfying amount. Smoke on his breath. Lips moving against his when he speaks, "wanna give me your tongue?"

It starts slow, because if Swiss is being honest, he's never been able to match Rain when it comes to imbibing in weed. He's gone, he knows. His limbs feel heavy and his body is buzzing. Tingling from it, moving underwater. There was no need to have smoked so much, not really, except Rain loves getting so high he drifts, and Swiss loves when Rain is useless and touchy and pliable.

A gentle press of their lips together at first. Massaging. Swiss holds Rain's face in both of his hands, brushes his thumbs against his cheeks, and Rain settles heavier into his lap, letting the tension leave his thighs where they bracket Swiss, and letting his full weight rest against his lap. Swiss feels him plucking at his shirt, and then feels the tip of his tongue dart out to lick his plush lower lip. Sighing pleasurably, he threads a hand through Rain's curls, over his scalp, pulling his head down closer.

It's so easy to open for him, to keep the kiss light and teasing and let Rain feel languid strokes of their tongues not even in one another's mouths. Licking at each other without coming together entirely. If they could watch, Swiss would see the thread of spit glinting in the sunlight, connecting them when Rain pulls back to grin, hands sliding over Swiss's chest, rubbing his pecs with clumsy hands.

"You taste like weed," he murmurs. "Degenerate."

"Promise you won't tell anyone," Swiss grins, and then he's pulling Rain back to him, pulling his face near and this time there's nothing teasing about it.

Swiss can't hold back the groan when they meet, because Rain's enthusiasm has his hips canting forward as he licks greedily into his mouth, all preamble gone. Kaput. It catches him off guard, how deeply Rain is kissing so soon. Not that he could ever complain, but-

"Rain, baby-" he says in the space between kisses, "really need it, huh? That it?"

Rain nips at Swiss’s bottom lip, sharper than he probably means to but too high to properly judge. It's a shock of pain that triggers something inside him, hands roving, one getting a good fistful of curls, the other sliding to his pale throat, not choking- not yet, though he's sure some of that will come later, restricting just before he forces Rain to cum- but holding. A reminder of his strength. A reminder how easy it is for Swiss to control. He loses track of how long it goes on. Drifting. Drowning. Farther and farther away.

Rain moans, fists his hands in Swiss's shirt, pulling. Stretching it out, he's sure- at least it's a cheap undershirt. He can live with that, if it's all wonky later.

They're very high now; it shows in the uncoordination, the amount of spit. Messy. Sloppy, even. Rain kisses him like he needs to burrow under his very skin, and it has taken no time at all for him to go wriggly, squirming on Swiss's lap, worrying the cotton of his shirt progressively rougher, only to release it so he can rub over his chest again, smoothing his fingertips around until he feels his nipples and gives them a tweak between his thumb and forefinger. Swiss doesn't intend to, but the jolt it sends through him has his hands tightening on Rain. A harder grip in his hair, curling firmly around his slender neck.

"Uh huh," Rain moans, plucking at Swiss to get them hard enough to poke through the white fabric. "Harder- choke me a little."

As usual, Rain gets whatever he wants, because Swiss is powerless to deny him anything.

He grabs his hair in a tight fist and slides his hand to curl around his throat, wrenching his head forward so he can drag the point of his nose against the sharp line of his jaw, to his ear, squeezing his hand at the same time he licks the lobe, sucks it, fangs scraping when he pulls back. Rain squeaks, and mindlessly pinches Swiss, harder than he would like were he sober. He hisses, and licks Rain's face, a wet slide up his cheek.

"That do it for you? Yeah?" Swiss says into his ear, the sensation of his hot breath drawing a full body shudder from Rain, who cannot for the life of him stay still.

"Harder," Rain says.

Again, Swiss indulges him.

He chokes him in earnest now, and the sound it pulls from Rain is- it's a lot. It's a noise that Swiss will never tire of hearing, and one that he thinks of when Rain isn't close by and he only has his hand, and he needs a little push to send himself over the edge.

Swiss thinks it a bit unfair that the joint makes him more sensitive, but his dick slower to respond. For as good as it all feels, it takes longer for his body to get with the program. Rain doesn't have this problem. He's stuck firmly on the opposite side of the spectrum. He's grinding against Swiss, and the knowledge of how stiff and pink it is under the sweatpants, tenting them, pressing it into Swiss’s belly- frankly, it's intolerable. Rain can't help it. Swiss is aware of how his nerves sing when he's stoned.

He eases off, gives Rain a moment to suck down some oxygen, and forces their mouths together once again, shoving his tongue roughly into Rain's mouth at the same time he chokes Rain for real, tight and cruel, desperate to steal the air from him. He needs. Needs- everything. Needs to suck on Rain's tongue, kiss him and choke him and make it so the only thing Rain can process, can know, is him.

He holds until Rain taps at his chest, and then releases, letting both his hair and neck go. Rain pulls away, chest heaving this time, face as red as his eyes, which are heavy lidded, barely focused. His lips are kiss-bruised, fuller from the bites Swiss bestowed upon them.

He can't help himself; with his hands unoccupied, he gropes Rain's hard on, and echoes Rain's moan, feeling it throb in his palm. Rain curls into himself, hands still flexing against his broad chest.

"Sweetheart," Swiss says, "this it? Want it?" He punctuates by working him more insistently, dimly surprised by how hot it feels through the material.

"Your mouth," Rain whimpers.

"Want me to kiss you there, too?"

Rain nods. Dazed. Stupid. Pliable.

"Gimme your tongue," he says for the second time.

Inside, Swiss and Rain adjust so Rain can lay back and lose himself, cum too quickly into Swiss’s mouth, who will hold it in and feed it back to him, drool it into Rain's waiting mouth. Outside, it grows dark.

[petvampire]

Idk if you're still taking prompts but if you are I'd love to see some primal play with the cat king and Charles. I need to catch up on your tarot fic btw I adore it but I'm like three chapters behind lol

I’m so sorry this one took so long, it’s definitely been simmering in my head a while and just needed a spark! Also hope you’ve caught up, and hope you enjoyed. 💖

Cat King/Charles primal play. NSFW.

~

Charles is a city boy; he’s not much at home in woods and forests, but he still moves through them easily, trusting his ghostly nature and his instincts to guide him. It’s rare he even has reason to be out somewhere like this. Especially without Edwin. Especially when they’re not on a case.

Tonight, he’s here because of an invitation he couldn’t resist.

He and the Cat King have sorted out most of their issues, the serious ones at any rate, though they still tend to disagree on things and needle each other seemingly just for the fun of it. It keeps an interesting heat between them, and they’ve found a number of… entertaining ways to play with that. Thomas is always one to nudge his lovers into new experiences, and despite his initial hesitation, Charles has found that going along with it ends up really well for him most of the time.

So yeah. He’s here because of Thomas, really; because the other suggested he needed to blow off steam in a way that he isn’t quite willing to with Edwin or Monty. He’s still careful with both of them, after a fashion. Charles, though… Charles has always been a fighter. And he can take whatever the Cat King can dish out.

That’s the assumption, anyway.

All right, it’s still a bit odd, being out in the woods knowing he’s being tracked by something animal and supernatural. Usually the things hunting him aren’t so clear in their intentions. It gives him a bit of a leg up, or so he thinks.

He always tends to forget that the Cat King doesn’t play fair.

There’s not the usual burst of violet fire or the subtle chorus of cat’s meows. A sleek, dark figure rushes from the shadows, and Charles has to admit he’s caught totally off guard. If someone had been trying to hurt him, he’d have been utterly screwed.

As it is, the glancing scrape of cat’s claws against his back is so light it’s nearly ticklish rather than painful. Just enough to make him aware of the other’s presence. He braces himself, turns and settles into a fighting stance, hands up. He doesn’t have his cricket bat, of course, because this isn’t really a fight.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous, though.

Hands are on him before he can think, the weight of a body bearing him down to the ground. He strikes out without thinking, and hears a husky chuckle in return as calloused hands block his strikes, pin him to the ground. He can see the gleam of golden eyes, the faintest flash of a fanged smile. “Not good enough, ghostie.”

It makes a flash of heat roll through Charles, makes him lash out in earnest. He gets one good strike to center mass, earning a rough grunt from the Cat King, but he catches the other, harshly pinning the offending hand against the soil. The hiss that rises on his lips is more animal than human as his other hand wraps around Charles’ fist, with pressure tight enough to hurt if he wanted to. It’s a warning, a threat.

And yeah; usually, he would fight back until his last undying breath. But with these hands on him, these claws pricking at his flesh, he folds, giving in with a slow exhale, tilting his chin up to expose his throat.

A familiar face floats above his own, but there is something foreign in those golden eyes, a distant, wild note that he has never seen before. It sends an honest shiver down his spine, and he sees the Cat King grin at the reaction from his trapped prey. He’s never felt so vulnerable before, not even a few steps away from Death herself. He feels raw and exposed, every inch of his flesh suddenly so fragile.

Thomas bends his head, sharp teeth scraping over the delicate skin of his neck, and Charles whimpers.

He’s prey, he realizes. He’s a mouse in a trap, at best. Because the Cat King has him, well and truly, and he won’t let him go.

And fuck if that doesn’t send a spike of unexpected arousal through him.

A clawed hand traces down his chest, shredding fabric in its wake, and he can’t do anything but shudder at the delicate brush as those claws touch skin. His trousers are shredded in like fashion, and he’s shaking as a sharp point traces oh-so-delicately down his length. He wants to pull away, and at the same time, he wants more.

Even when he looks up, that familiar face is a mask of animal need, of lust and rage and cruelty. The Cat King is showing the basest elements of what he is, and Charles can either run from it, or embrace it.

He meets those cold, glazed golden eyes and flashes a cocky smirk. He’ll never back down, ever - and he’ll also never hold what Thomas is against him. He can take it.

The Cat King snarls, and a hot mouth presses over his own, body pinning him to the ground. A hand snakes between his legs, and Charles muffles a whine into Thomas’ mouth as two fingers push into him, no hesitation, no preparation. He can handle it, though, trying in vain to catch his breath when the other is intent on stealing it.

Magic flickers along his nerves as slick lube presses into him as an afterthought, but he can’t focus on that when Thomas is biting his way down the line of his throat, leaving harsh red marks against his skin. The Cat King’s hands are surprisingly rough as they roll Charles over, push him onto hands and knees.

There’s no teasing or drawing things out, as Thomas usually enjoys. Just a hot body plastered against his back, cock pressing against his hole, shallow thrusts driving him inside. Charles bites back another whine, and the Cat King just buries himself deeper, making the ghost see stars. His hands are grasping almost desperately at the earth and dead leaves beneath them, wanting something to hang onto. He hears a low hiss pressed against the back of his neck, but it sounds somehow pleased, and he can’t help the tiny little moan that escapes him in return.

It’s enough encouragement, apparently. Hips snap harshly against his ass, and the shock of pain-pleasure makes him moan, automatically arching for more.

He can’t help himself when it comes to making his partners feel good.

The Cat King is ruthless, pounding into him, sharp teeth leaving their marks along his neck and shoulders. Claws dig into his hips to keep him still, and Charles whimpers but endures. He’s hard as a fucking rock, too damn close coming untouched, but his whole focus is on Thomas. Whatever he needs, fuck it, he’ll give.

A snarl is buried against the nape of his neck when the feline finally comes, and Charles can smell the blood where claws prick into his skin. He doesn’t so much as ask for a breath - he’s pressing himself back for more, offering himself like a sacrifice beneath the other’s predatory need.

He’ll fight if he wants, oh fucking yes. But if the Cat King just wants willing prey, he’s here for that too. And hell if he doesn’t love either prospect.

[aticklishpercivalwriter]

Teasing a Childe - Part 2

Surprise Visit - Part 0 of 3 Taking Down an Oni - Part 1 of 3 Teasing a Childe - Part 2 of 3 (This Post), Also on AO3 Catching Wrio Off-Guard…or Not? - Part 3 of 3

Summary: Childe ain't winning against three teasy lers.

A/N: Here’s part two! I'm officially on summer break, but I'm taking summer classes :( However, I should be more active than before. Hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 1288

— 

“I saw you running here Aether! You can't escape from me!”

Childe immediately ran after Aether once the chaos started. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as he looked for his elusive rival.

“Not here…how about here? No? Hmm.”

Childe backed out of the room he was in, looking around in case there was any movement. Sounds of Itto’s laughter made it to his ears, sending a tingling sensation down his spine.

“Hope you make it out alive Itto,” he whispered under his breath.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall making him grin. He slowly walked towards where he heard the sound. Looking around, he saw a golden strand of hair caught underneath a nearby door.

“Gotcha.”

Childe slammed the door open and quickly scanned the room. It was a large bedroom with plenty of hiding spots.

“Oh, I'm going to love this,” Childe chuckled evilly, planning to turn the room upside down.

Meanwhile, around the corner and across the door Childe opened, three Anemo boys watched him enter.

“Brat,” Scaramouche scoffed.

“You are one to talk,” Aether whispered.

“You wanna take that back?” Scara swiftly squeezed his sides making him choke on a laugh.

“Guys!” Venti whisper yelled. “Both of you are going to ruin my plan! Let’s go inside, quietly.”

Wanderer huffed and Aether pouted but they both followed without a word.

Childe was facing away from them when they entered. He was near the bed and looking inside a wardrobe. Venti silently gestured for the other two to surround him. Aether behind the bed, Venti to the side, and Scara underneath it.

“Here goes,” Venti then created a wind feather out of the air and guided it to Childe’s ear.

Childe scratched his ear, feeling it itch.

“Ugh, why does my ear feel itchy?”

The sensation disappeared before coming back though more of a ticklish feeling.

“Whahahat thehehe?”

He rubbed his ear and looked around rapidly but there was no one but him. The sensation disappeared again, and Childe was becoming suspicious.

“Whoever you are, stop iHIHIT!”

He shrieked, scrunching up his shoulders when he felt a feather-light touch along his neck.

“Whahahat is happenihihing!? GAHAHAHA!”

Scaramouche crawled from under the bed and tased the backs of his knees making him crumple to the ground in a fit of laughter all the while the feather-light touches along his neck and ears continued.

“EHehEhEHehE! ScaraHAhAHA!” Childe laughed, curling into a ball. “WheHEHere ihihis AEHEhether!?”

“Tch. Why don’t you think of saving your own skin first before chasing after others?” Wanderer kneaded his sides making him uncurl. “Because I’m going to wreck you, idiot, ginger-head.” Every word was punctuated with a poke.

“WHyhyHy!”

“I’m never going to pass up a chance to put you in your place, bleh!” He stuck his tongue out at Childe before nodding at the other two to carry him onto the bed.

“H-Huh? Aehehether and Vehehentihi? Wahahait! Whahahat ahare youhuhu dohohING! Oof!”

He was tossed onto the bed, landing face down and a weight immediately on his waist as the bed bowed when the other two climbed on top of it.

“Wahahahait! Y-You guhuhuys dohohon’t hahave toho dohoho thihihis!” Childe giggled, kicking out his legs and struggling to throw Scara off.

“Aww, look at him,” Venti cooed. “Giggling without us touching him. How cute~”

“He sure is,” Aether smirked. “I can’t wait to crawl my fingers along his neck~”

“Ooh! And airy feather touches in his belly button~”

As Aether and Venti talked, Wanderer lightly drummed his fingers along Childe’s sides, grinning as he saw him hide his face in the bed and back rising and falling from muffled giggles and whines. The Anemo trio knew what they were doing as they watched him fall apart from teases alone.

“Stahahap! Plehehease! Dohohon’t tehehease mehehehe ahanymohohore!” Childe turned his head towards his captors. “I’m gohohonna diehehe!”

The trio shared a look with one another and looked back at Childe with devilish smirks, making him gulp and hide his face.

“Eep!”

He let out a squeak as he was flipped onto his back and forced to look at them. Goosebumps rose along his skin as Aether pulled his arms over his head and sat on them, restraining him. Scaramouche took his place on his waist again and Venti by his legs.

Childe looked up and that was a mistake. Aether looked down at him with a predatory grin and wiggled his fingers.

“Aehehether!” He tried to hide his face in the crook of his neck only to let out a squeal when Aether swiped his neck. “GaHAHAhAha!”

“Ah ah ah~ No hiding that smile of yours~,” Aether teased. He crawled his fingers along his neck and rubbed behind his ears, while his ponytail also brushed along his neck and ears too.

“Ahahahaha! Stahahap ihihit! NAHAHAHA!”

Wanderer raised Childe’s shirt up and dug in between his ribs, rolling his eyes at Aether.

“Let’s wreck him now, Ae. I’m done with teasing.”

“Oh Scara,” Childe started. “I didn’t know you had MERCYEHEHE! AHAHAHA!”

“That wasn’t mercy ginger brat. I want to put you in your place now. Aether?”

“Okay, okay. So impatient~”

“I’ll wreck you next if you-”

“GAhahaHAHA! EHEHehahAha! NOhohO FAhahAHAIR! It’s two AGAHAhainst ohoHONe! I-HAHAHAHA! OHOHOHO NOHOHOHO!”

“You didn’t forget about me, did you? Ehe~” Venti spoke up, squeezing up and down his thighs and knees.

“AHAhahaHA! NO! NOhOHO! STahAhaP!”

“So sensitive~ We softened you up with teases, didn’t we?”

“YOuhuhUHU GUhuYS AREHehE- AHAHAHA! EVIL! EVIHIHIL!”

“And you aren’t?” Aether rolled his eyes.

“IHihI’M AN INNoceHEHEHent ChihiHILDEHE! WAIT! NOT THERE! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! AHAHAHA!”

The sensation of a feather twirling the skin outside his navel made him go bonkers and babbling desperate pleas.

“PLEASE! PLEHEHEASE! DOHOHON’T DOHO IHIHIT! I’M BEHEHEGGING YOUHUHU!”

“Oh?” Venti raised an eyebrow as he slowed his own tickling and crawled over next to Scara and Childe’s side to have better control of the feather he created. “Not here?” He quickly wiggled the feather inside his belly button before pulling it out and returning to swirling it outside his navel.

Childe convulsed into full belly laughter and squeezed his eyes shut.

“YEHEHES! THAHAHAHAT! STOHOP SWIRLIHIHING IHIHIT! AHAHAHA!”

Wanderer then started massaging his sides making it his mission to see Childe winded from laughter and tickles.

“NOHOHOT THAHAHAT SPOHOHOT EITHEHEHER! NAHAHAHA!”

“Sucks to be you, bleh! Now laugh!”

“AEHEHETHER SAHAHAVE MEHEHEHE!”

“Nope,” Aether grinned. “You wanted a fight and I’m taking the winning title,” He squeezed the junction between Childe’s shoulder and neck and Venti went in once again with the feather with Wanderer following suit with rapid pokes to his sides.

“AHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHA! EHEHEHE! NOHOH- GAHAHAHA! STA- AHAHAHA!”

Childe was completely gone as the trio utterly wrecked him. Tears of mirth leaked from his eyes as he shook from laughter.

“GUHUYS! I’LL- HEHEHEAHAHA! PLE- MEHEHAHAHA!”

His uncontrollable laughter went silent after a few minutes, making the boys stop and get off him. They went to sit beside him and high-fived each other looking at the mess of Childe before them. His hair stuck to his forehead as tear stains painted his face alongside a tired grin. His chest rose and fell after every breath he took in.

“Ha, ha,” Childe breathed.

“Did we go too far?” Aether asked.

“No,” Scaramouche and Childe said at the same time, but Childe’s was wheezier. “J-Just let me…rest,” Childe continued.

He closed his eyes and his head fell to the side.

“Did he just…fall asleep?” Venti questioned.

“He sure did,” Aether answered. “Let’s let him rest.”

They all walked out of the room, Aether closing the door silently as they went to look for the others.

“Tickles,” Childe mumbled in his sleep, snuggling into the sheets with a dopey smile on his face.

[carminecherry]

PLAYGROUND | kazutora hanemiya

this is part one of the series put a collar on your pet

⇝ PAIRING: timeskip!kazutora hanemiya x bff fem!reader

⇝ SERIES SYNOPSIS: kazutora has wanted a neck tattoo since middle school. after you get a tattoo apprenticeship in the city, he wants you to be the one to do his neckpiece. however, the neck is an awfully sensitive spot. especially for a first tattoo. some people handle pain better than others. some people even enjoy it...

⇝ PART ONE LENGTH: 2.5k words

⇝ PART ONE WARNINGS: slight nsfw (18+ minors do not interact):

all characters are 20+; AU! where kazutora never got a neck tattoo; cuddling, drinking, a little angst, teasing, chasing, tickling; kazutora is a playboy, you're his bff who he can always count on, you're the last person to admit his charms phase you, he comes to you after yet another break up, would you risk your friendship to confess to your womanizer bff? also, you find out that kazutora is ticklish.

⇝ AUTHOR'S NOTE: lots of spice in the next part, this is mostly for tension and build up, enjoy <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING ADULT CONTENT.

“C’mon~” He whined. A pout, curving his lips. “I don’t know, Kazu… I just became an apprentice. Shouldn’t you go to someone, I don’t know, more professional?”

You take a swig from the tall can you bought at the convenience store, the tinny metal tainting the taste in a familiar way. Despite being 7% it was making your head swirl pleasantly already. 

He sighs, pulling you close to him on the wooden park bench, littered with small carvings and ink; some of which you and the gang have contributed over the years.

It sits in an area that's slightly secluded, a grove of shrubs and trees blocking it from view. It was the perfect spot for smoking or drinking in privacy. Once you and the gang stumbled upon it back in high school, you’ve kept coming back. 

You run your fingers over the weathered graffiti, ignoring the man nuzzling into you, finding a spot on the seat. A smile tugs at your lips. It's a little heart with a dagger through it. Basic, but it had been the design of your first flash tattoo.

You remember the night you practiced drawing it here on the bench and how Kazu, Baji, and Chifuyu and volunteered to let you sketch it on them in sharpie.

A feeling of nostalgia warms your chest. You also remember a younger, very intoxicated, Kazu swearing he'd only ever get a tattoo if you were the one to do it. This park, this spot, this bench, holds so many memories.

You take a deep breath in, letting the cool, night air fill your lungs. The sun set a long time ago, but the air still held a slight dampness from the humidity of the day. It’s one of those nights where you can feel fall creeping in.

“I don’t wanna go to just anyone, I want it to be done by you.” You can’t fight the blush that dusts your cheeks, much to your chagrin. He’s always been a huge flirt, that stupid pretty boy. You hate it when his methods have an effect on you. “Yeah, yeah, flattery that’s not gonna work on me Kazu. You just want a discount.” You lie, feeling your heart rate increase with his lingering proximity. He plasters on an innocent face, but the glint in his golden eyes gives him away, it always does. 

“Pretty, please. It won’t be right if it isn’t you.” He whines, throwing himself over you in a dramatic display. You huff. He knows what he’s doing, he always teases you like this. Making you put your guard up and shut him down. The helpless flirt, the devil. He rotates his head against your shoulder, making his earring jingle, bringing his chin to rest there comfortably. 

You can feel his breath on your cheek, smell his shampoo, his detergent, his cologne mixing together; light but strong- like the crisp, cold air of a shopping mall. You like the smell, though you’d never admit it. You’re wrapped in it, enjoying it for as long as you can before he notices. He’s quick to poke fun at everyone, especially you, a trait you have mixed feelings about.

You hear his soft breathing in your ear, that flustered feeling building. You break first, “I’ll… Talk to my boss. But-” He’s crushing you in a hug before you can finish. “Don’t go getting your hopes up.” You choke out. “Is your boss the hot one? Give her my number if she needs some persuading.” “Ew. No. That’s Amy, and ONE she has a girlfriend, TWO my boss is Rei, big, bald, lots of tattoos, sunglasses, yeah?” “He pouts again, "I’m not super into guys but give him my number nonetheless.” “You’re ridiculous.” You finally shake him off. 

You’ve had to make an effort to hold on to moments like this, where the shameless comes through. These sobering moments can help you when you feel the butterflies starting, a reminder of why it would never work between the two of you. He always did this, spoiled the moment. 

You’ve walked to that edge before, the boundary of your friendship. Peered into the inky blackness of the unknown below. What would meet you there if you ever garnered enough courage to leap? More times than you can count, the words would bubble up in your chest. What do you think of me, Kazu? Do you think we could ever be more than friends? I want you all to myself. All bitten back by the gripping fear of losing a dear friend, fear of getting your heart broken by the person you care about most.

He curls a hand around your waist, leaning into you. You melt into the heat seeping through his shirt. He usually gets like this, more touchy, after a breakup regardless of who dumped who. He has all of that pent up affection, that physical touch that needs an outlet. And it’s always you. Over and over again you are his rock. 

You hate that it’s like this, that he has such power over you. But that doesn’t change anything. You can’t bear the thought of him being with anyone else like this. There is an intimacy to your relationship beyond physical. One that he has never had in his love life, or so he’s told you. Your heart aches, confused. The conversations of the past whirling into a spiral of anxiety and hope.

It’s almost funny. The double standard you’ve slotted yourself into. If one of your girl friends came to you, talking about a guy situation like this, you would tell her to run for the hills with a promise to kick his ass. But you were putty in his hands. Damn it.

You’re brought back from your reverie with him jostling you, “Oi, are you even listening?” “Nah, I tuned out when you couldn’t remember her name.” He makes an indignant noise. “Why are you so hung up on her anyways?” The intrusive thought blurts out before you have time to stop it. “I don’t know, I just feel kind of gross about it…” You sit in silence together, not wanting to pry. 

“I guess I feel kinda used.” He admits with faux drama. “I’d say it’s karmic at this point, then.” You shoot back, earning you a shove. “Come on, I mean, how many girls have you hooked up with and dumped? I don’t see how this is any different.” “Those girls didn’t matter.” “Oh wow.” You say only half sarcastically. “Not like that, I mean, it was just for fun. We were on the same page… Most of the time…” You roll your eyes.

He slides down the bench, reclining, resting his head in your lap. Your fingers naturally comb through his soft, dyed hair. The longer, wispy bits tickling the skin of your thighs. He closes his eyes to the pleasant sensation of your nails on his scalp. “It was like… I guess I feel like a pawn… She was just hooking up with me to try and get Mikey’s attention.” His voice sounds distant. You hum, taking another sip of your drink, prying your eyes from his peaceful face. “Sounds very dramatic.” You offer, he laughs humorlessly. “Yeah, it’s shit.” 

It’d been a long time since you’d hung out with the guys. Work has been busy since you started as an apprentice at a tattoo studio in the city and the only reason you get to see Kazu is because the two of you live so close to each other. You wonder how the others are doing. Sounds like there's some tea brewing and you’re happy to not be involved.

“I don’t know, getting a tattoo after a messy break up, pretty cliche don’t ya think?” You tease. His eyes shoot open and he looks flustered, it’s rare that you can get a reaction out of him; a shiteating grin spreading across your face. “It’s something I’ve wanted for a long time.” He says, with an earnestness that you don’t often see from him. You lean over him in your lap, “Oh~ What’s a long time to you? Two months?” You continue teasing. “Since, like, middle school ass hat!” He says with a playful shove, your drink sloshing in your hand. 

“Ay- watch it!” You say shoving him back. “You’re gonna spill my-” He grabs your wrist that’s holding the can, you wrestle with him but he has that brutish strength, one forged over years of brawling in his younger years.  He guides your hand up with ease. “Hey, knock it off!” you say, struggling in his vice grip. He replies only with a devilish grin, opening his mouth in a seductive way, locking eyes with you. 

His head rolls back, exposing the column of his neck. He turns your wrist to waterfall the liquid in the can into his open mouth; the stream catching a small glimmer of light from a distant lamppost.

His adam's apple bobs in his throat as the can grows lighter in your hand. A bit of the drink escapes, you follow the slow drip from the corner of his mouth, down to his jaw. He closes his eyes as it slowly rolls down his neck, dripping into your lap. You feel your face heat as you take in the sight hungrily. He shakes your wrist to get the last few drops of the beverage. “Problem solved.”

“You ASS!” You sputter. He releases you with a laugh, wiping the spilled liquid with the back of his hand, before sizing you up in a predatory way. A sharp smile spreads across his face. “Sorry, do you want it back?" He sits up quickly, rearranging your positions, grabbing your face between his warm palms. 

He hovers over you on the bench acting like he’ll spit the drink back into your mouth as you fend off his attack, curling into the bench to put some space between the two of you. “Oh mY GOD SICKO LET GO OF ME!” You squeal, fighting off his grip with a laugh. 

He relents, chuckling as well. “You owe me a new one.” You say, punctuating the statement with a tinny tap on the can with your nails, the wood scraping against the back of your thighs as you scoot away from him. “Yes, yes, your wish is my command, princess.” The pet name makes your heart skip. Damn him. 

He stands from the bench, stretching his long toned arms above his head. “I didn’t mean right this second.” You pout, hiding your blush in the shadows. “So bossy.” He quips back. You wipe the spilled liquid from your leg and rub absently at a bug bite that meets the pad of your finger, the itchiness a welcome distraction. You slap at your chest as you feel the prick of a new bite. Then another on your thigh. 

“Fuck, I’m getting eaten alive out here!” You say with annoyance. It is still summer after all. He whips around, pinning you between his arms and the bench. “I’m the only bloodsucker that gets to eat you.” He says in a syrupy joking voice, bringing a nail to scratch at the rising red spot on your collar bone. “Fuck off.” You say kicking at him, he retreats with a laugh.

“Ugh, it’s so itchy now.” You whine, pressing on the warm patch of skin. You rise in a huff, walking out of the little grove. “Aww you poor thing. I can help you scratch any itch, just say the word~” He says , trotting to catch up to you. “Animal.” You spit at him, but your voice lacks venom and the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth takes any punch out of the statement. 

He skips ahead of you, blocking your path. You step to the left, he blocks. You step to the right he blocks. You stand to full height, not even reaching his chin, and cross your arms. He crouches slightly like he’s going to charge you. “God, you’re such a kid. Get out of my way.” You say in the sternest voice you can muster. 

“Password.” He says, a mischievous sparkle in his eye. “Let me through, ass wipe.” “Nope, two more tries.” “Kazutora is a drunk brat who can’t keep it in his pants.” “Wrong again, only one more chance.” “I’m seriously going to kick your-” “Wrong!”

Then he’s running at you. You break into a sprint, a playful squeal escaping your throat. “OH MY GOD YOU DICK WHAT HAPPENED TO CHIVALRY?!” You run through the grassy field next to the grove, the lush blades of grass lick the skin of your ankles with the slight moisture of dew that’s formed. The cool summer air rushing past you. The child-like thrill of being chased thundering through your veins. You hear him laughing as he sprints behind you. 

You know he’s faster than you, he’s letting you outrun him. He loves this, the chase. You duck under some branches, the playground appearing in the distance. You run towards it, sprinting up the slide with a symphony of squeaks, rubber soles on plastic. He runs after you as you jump down the back. You feel the crunch of mulch under your shoes. 

The alcohol in your system gives you a pleasant buzz on your skin. You weave between the swings, chains jingling, and make a break for the jungle gym. You make a frantic leap up the stairs, cold metal meeting the palm of your hand. Before you can get in, you feel his arm snake around your waist, prying you from the structure. A high pitched laugh escapes as he swings you around. “Gotcha!”

Your legs flail helplessly, far from the ground. “Let go of me you ass!” You laugh. “I WIN!” He howls. “It wasn’t a game, loser.” “Everything is a game.” He says breathing heavily into the back of your head.  You wriggle in his grip but it’s pointless, he’s too strong. “Put me doooooown~” You whine. “What do I win?” He says in your ear. “You win an absolute ass whooping!” “That doesn’t sound like fun.” You feel his lip pout against the shell of your ear. 

He adjusts his grip, flipping you over his shoulder easily. “Down! Put me down! Down boy!” You say slapping his back. “You’re the one going on about chivalry, I’ll take you home.” He says with faux indignation, turning on a heel.

You resign yourself and flop down to dead weight. Letting your arms swing like a corpse. They brush against the fabric of his shirt; it’s smooth and thin. With each sway you can feel the tone of his back muscles, flexed carrying your weight. You let your fingers trail more, tracing a pattern in his back.

“Don’t get me worked up, sweetheart.” He jokes, but there’s an edge to his voice. “Oh~” You hum. “Ticklish, Kazu?” You bring your fingers to his side, fluttering them lightly before digging in. He buckles under your attack with a yelp as you tickle and prod the sensitive skin of his sides. He releases you unceremoniously, you stumble to get proper footing. You spin, ready to bully him with this discovery. Before the taunt can leave your mouth your eyes lock with his. 

What looks back at you is a face you’ve never seen him make. Is that fucker blushing? “Totally unfair!” He whines, straightening and rubbing his sides. “All is fair in… War?” “That’s not the quote, dumbass.” He fires back. “C’mon.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you back to the sidewalk. “I can walk by myself, y’know.” You say under your breath. 

“It’s my chivalrous duty to protect young maidens from the scary creatures that lurk in the night. Even ones who can’t keep their hands to themselves.” “You’ve just described yourself.” “Just enjoy your scary dog privileges. You don’t know how many other fair maidens wish they were on my arm tonight. Don’t you feel special?” There it is, mood kill. You bite back a sarcastic comment. The two of you make the rest of the walk in silence, feelings swirling in your chest.

[ms0milk]

𝟓 | 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You test one finger first, and then two more at the sharp angle of his jaw and press gently– and then immediately even more gently than that when his teeth unclench at your warmth. His face goes slack and he tilts his cheek into your palm. Is this how a dragon sleeps?"

no cw agonizingly soft way to wake up, first (nonviolent lmao) touches holds and caresses + touch-starved bkg. author cannot be without kirishima for a single chapter. reader has pierced ears from childhood to adulthood, obligatory queen mitsuki flashback. an ominous Takoba welcome and the great big sea 3.9k

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Eyes open to warm sun rays and a sigh of relief can’t be helped. It was all only a dream.

You breathe in deep and slow and lift sore arms to tug the blankets up over your head, as high as they can go until you’re back under the dark and your bare toes poke out in the cool.

You can still feel the warmth of the morning sun bleed into the bedding, the floral of clean linens, the dip of the mattress so soft at your hips and shoulders that when you start to uncurl your legs you revel in silk swallowing your skin. Had you ever before taken the time to sink your fingers between a sheet and the cool underside of your pillow?

Someone’s breath adds to the symphony of the cream calm morning and it is so wonderful to be home.

It's salty. You roll to your side and curl up tight all while pulling the sheets into a nest around you, grumbling and sighing and smiling and squeaking with the stretch. It must be time to eat if kitchen spices have wound their way through the castle to your little bedroom and all the way into your sheets, and so you peek your face through a fold in the blanket.

Cool breezes prickle your nose and the prince looks so peaceful sleeping beside you, crisp white pillows, golden sun and all. Your lips twitch wanting to smile and then your body jerks up onto an elbow in panic.

The prince is fast asleep on a bed not one pillow’s length away from yours. Blond hair shags across his forehead in soft little spikes, across the bridge of his sharp nose and cheek. His left cheek, the one he chews when he holds back curses. Your heart pounds with the instinct to stand, to leave the room, but you remind yourself that it’s just a dream. So you hold your stare and slowly lower yourself back onto your satin pillow.

He’s in a white tunic, linen maybe, with that familiar silvery inlay around the open collar. And he must run hot you think, because the blankets are all kicked into a bunch at the foot of his little bed. Why do you always dream of this family?

You squish your cheek into the sheets pensively, but finally, relaxed. The prince breathes out of a scowl that melts every time he inhales and his breath is a little sour with morning. You could touch him if you only slipped your hand out of your blanket. You do.

He’s not even two feet away. Your beds practically touch and just how many times will you let the Bakugous shift through your dreams without asking them what you’ve done to trap them there?

He clenches the fist beside his head when you brush your fingertips over his knuckles. Just the pads of your fingers. Just the testing press of your thumb against the side of his hand where his leathery palms begin.

It’s hot, and a little clammy. He’s so soft and you don’t realize that you’re leaning closer until you’re at the edge of your little bed and even then you don’t pay the distance much mind because when the press of your touch is firm enough not to be ticklish, brows furrow and his lips curl into a sweet hint of a snarl. So much like a cat that you smile.

Bakugou doesn’t look anything like he did when he was younger, when he’d fall asleep plumdrunk in the orchards with a book beside his head. Or when you’d see his little arms over his father’s shoulder as the king carried him to his room from a too-late party. His clothes never quite fit right when he was that little– weird kid. Kind kid. You still remember how his hands felt around yours at six years old and now he’s a man who makes the most beautiful magic with those same hands that you’ll never be held by again.

The prince’s muscular frame fills his bedclothes to their every seam and it doesn’t feel appropriate that you’ve made him so beautiful in your dreams.

You take your fingertips to his cheek now and sweep away bits of blond hair so that you can watch the way his teeth dig into his lip. When your fingers touch his skin, he rumbles, a quiet growl from the deepest part of his chest and you’d retreat if you were awake but his body is so warm that you can feel it on your skin, through your blanket, a whole arms length away, and there’s nothing that could convince you now not to trace the outline of his face like a sculpture.

You use one finger first, and then two more at the sharp angle of his jaw and press gently– and then immediately even more gently than that when his teeth unclench at your warmth. His face goes slack and he tilts his cheek into your palm. Is this how a dragon sleeps?

Yes, yes the possessive kind, on a mountain of treasure, with very little patience for thieves.

The prince’s hand jumps from its spot clenching sheets and snatches yours up in a startling grip. Hoping alongside desperation that he is still a dream, your eyes dart from his face to his fist and back again twice more and when his scowl melts into a limp press of his cheek against the pillow, you breathe again.

If Bakugou blinked awake he would be only inches away from his unprofessional guard with her head poking out of brown blankets. The pair of you are too close to see anything past your own sun drenched faces and maybe if you could look away for long enough, the edge of the beds. He would register your empty, peaceful eyes and maybe he’d start to carry on about just how close you’d gotten and his sparks, purple, green, pink, orange, red, would flare up around you.

Instead he only holds your hand under his chin. He slots his thumb into your palm and cradles the back of your knuckles in heavy fingers– and when his body rises in deep breath he brushes those knuckles with sleepy, rhythmic fingertips.

“Y/n?”

You turn around to address the new voice, carefully enough from the prince’s hold that neither he nor your beds make a single hiss, creak or growl. Just how many people have you conjured up for this dream?

Ten or so feet away is Kaminari, and he smiles at you from across a room that is not yours, and is certainly not in Aldera. It’s a long white space that curves as it continues well around the corner. Window after little window line the far wall and beds line the other. Are they hospital beds? You and the prince breathe softly next to each other at one end of the room.

The only other beds occupied are a bit of a distance away; Kaminari under the same brown blankets you mistook for your own, and Sero, clearly sleeping very peacefully beside him. Mina is here too, curled up uncomfortably in a wooden chair with her head in his lap. The room is long but tight and in the distance between you is a door, to the hallway presumably.

Kaminari raises a finger to his lips to keep you from waking his friends and smiles, “You’re safe.”

You’re sitting up before you have the time to process that this isn’t a dream at all. In a panic, you whip back around and to the tune of bittersweet horror the prince lays just as beautifully and peacefully as you thought you had dreamt. Cheek squished into his pillow and a warm hold on your hand. He shifts a bit and sinks deeper into what must be a sleep of the dead. His ears are unsettlingly empty of their golden jewelry.

The events from last night come flooding back and Takoba, and all of its marbled determent, flies into full focus. Are you in the castle hospital? Were you wounded? The prince doesn’t fight when you slip your hand from his. Has he been seen by a doctor? You don’t wait to catch his fist clench slowly around nothing.

You are miraculously alive. A pair of wool slippers meet your toes instead of stone when you lower your feet to the ground and so your agitated train of thought goes on uninterrupted. Kaminari smiles while you think at the edge of your bed, and closes his eyes again.

Beside you, the prince’s reading book sits pale atop a small bedside table. The one you saw him with it half a dozen times on the journey. Images of supplies and carriage gear flash through your brain, taking a sort of inventory of items you must have lost to the fire. Your satchel and brand new socks. Jeanist’s halberd. Your dragontooth brooch.

While you mourn, you slip your earrings from your ear.

If you’re truly awake and the hell of yesterday has passed, the prince will still need Aldera jewelry to avoid whatever terrible fate he thinks this place has store for him. Whatever that means. Even if you never found his earrings in the forest. Even if it must be these.

It was brutally cold the morning the queen arrived with her small gift, the day that you became Jeanist’s apprentice. She beamed when she knelt before you in your bedroom doorway and the candlelight in the hall made her thick black cape glow white at the edges,

“These are magic, you know?”

You remember hearing your heartbeat in your ears for the first time at this, like nothing had ever made you quite so excited in all your life, “Are they really, your Majesty?”

“Mhm.” The golden suns were hardly bigger than apple seeds and they dangled from hooks pinched between the queen’s fingers. Lighter than air. She slipped them both into your ears and cupped your little cheeks, resting her forehead against yours. “This is serious, Y/n.”

You gulped.

“A real powerhouse of spells went into these–”

“Majesty, really?”

The queen’s faux gravity disintegrated instantly, but she carried on as best she could while squishing your cheeks together and melting into your squeals of joy, “Yes– yes!” She roared happily, at your rare laughter, “Y/n they will keep you safe. When you wear these, the strength of Aldera will always be with you.”

The queen pulled her face from yours grinning, to tuck her short hair behind one ear and you can still feel the aching crescents your nails dug into your palm by way of how very hard your fists trembled, because when her own little suns twinkled against her jaw you dedicated your life to her.

So now you press the charms to her son’s leather book and try not to linger long on precious memories. It’s time to work, and to find Kirishima. “Rest well,” you whisper to Kaminari.

Slipping from the sick room is easier than you think it should be; the royal hospital at Aldera boasts three or four guards at all hours of the day but this hallway outside is empty. Empty and bleak in a fit of white marble and a striking lack of rugs.

The desolation of Takoba Castle startles you, at least in this hospital wing. The same smooth marble you faced outside last night climbs up imposing white hallway walls that reach into high arches, and really does make you feel as if in a seashell. Even more like you’re a rock at the bottom of a great sea and the surface is lingering much too high for you to reach. You’ll drown here. There is no levity.

No artwork or rugs, not a single hint of a welcome party, no smell of food, not even a doctor. It is silent except for your breath as you click the hospital door closed behind you. You want to take the prince back home, where it's warm and where bandits don’t try your lives. Takoba is already infuriating.

An empty chair to the right of the door suggests a jarringly relaxed guard schedule. A guard who, when they return from between the legs of whichever lover must be keeping them from their work will stand very still and listen very carefully to their new schedule, and will thank you on their knees for your patience. You’ll need to find someone to man this post while you drag the absentee physician back to your prince’s sick bed.

“You’re looking absolutely murderous this morning, Y/n.”

Before you recognize the voice, you jerk your hand around the knob of the hospital door to keep any new ghosts from entering the place where your prince is finally safe. But it’s Kirishima. Sweet, warm Kirishima seated in a chair on the other side of the doorframe with your red halberd perched between his legs.

He’s smiling– he’s looking up at you and he places a calm hand over yours that is so convincing you release your vice on the door, “We’re safe.”

“Are you okay?”

“Not a scratch, miss guard.”

And you smile too.

You peer out the window at the end of the hall while Kirishima sits beside the hospital door. It’s difficult not wincing as you categorize your new surroundings, because it’s even colder outside than it is in, with the autumn wind whipping up to the clouds. Your nightgown doesn’t keep the prince’s sleepy warmth against you.

A hundred feet in the air, you crane down, down, down, from the tiny white window, below, where Takoba is split in two. On one side a bustling city with cobbled roads, shops, homes, families, soldiers all milling about, and on the other a black and hungry void. The sea churns and froths with starving foam mouths. White rabbits dance.

“Is this how you imagined it?”

You shake your head.

The chilling cool of the marble castle is less awful when you’re not alone, but if this was Aldera, heavy rugs would already be stacked one over the other in a patchwork of reds and browns to cover the wooden floors. Velvet tapestries go up over the trees that reach inside from windows, woolen blankets appear at the foot of every bed, and fires rage all day long in the fireplaces around the castle’s main rooms. Takoba doesn’t seem to know warmth.

You don’t hear the clank of armored greaves on white marble but you do hear the name of your companion, and then your own, being called in a sweet voice behind you. You’re about to sit down with Kirishima and ask him about the fight, about how he escaped last night, but the champion turns before you can and smiles, “Uraraka!”

“Long time no see.” The guard from last night smiles right back. She comes around the hallway bend towards you.

Uraraka is in a half suit of armor, silver from the waist down. You can’t imagine what kind of training requires such an outfit, but before you can ask, or kneel before her, or thank her, or even approach– she calls your name again, a name you didn’t give her, and points down the hall, “Your presence is requested in the throne room.”

You don’t think about the strange quiet of the castle past your fury, so you nod and move to follow the guard without much protest. She’ll at least be able to help you find the doctor, and you are in absolutely no position to decline a queen.

“Kirishima, please stay with the prince.” The champion smiles first at the guard waiting, and then to you, and nods. Your halberd is still perched in his arms and you think it’s best not to approach a new throne room armed. “And make a good show of that weapon when our sentinel returns from their break.”

Kirishima scrunches up his nose in silent laughter and salutes.

His red hair disappears behind the curve of the hallway as you fall in line with your Takoban escort. Down a few steps and through an archway, the tight hallway opens up considerably. The hospital wing– a passageway really in comparison now– must be tucked into a small section of the castle and you scold yourself a bit for being so judgemental of a kingdom you know nothing about.

This long foyer is towering, vaulted ceilings just as tall as the ones in the hospital. The walk is lined with a vibrant blue runner, and above, ornate windows glint one after the other in the slanted roof. Your nightgown whips around your calves with a draft.

Are the windows so large because you can’t build a fireplace in fine marble? Is this entire building carved from a single rock? The uniformity of the stone is incredible. As you walk in silence, you can’t point out a single seam from construction and when you’re looking this closely you’re struck by figures carved into the walls in neat rows.

Birds and stars, a few tiny men, great fires– none of these carvings is larger than a plum and they blend too easily into the white marble for you to discern properly while keeping pace with your escort. The details in the fairy carriage were delicate like this too.

There’s a rumbling of voices coming into focus somewhere deep in the castle. Like ghosts in the walls.

“How are you feeling?” The guard asks and you turn your attention from the walls to her round cheeks peeking over her shoulder. She’s slowed down so that you’re no longer trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” you say carefully and accept her invitation to walk side by side, “for last night. For escorting Prince Bakugou inside. And myself.”

“Should I have let you bleed out in the courtyard?” This girl has the face of someone who wants, always, to be smiling. She’s not tall, has no weapons, and wouldn't be difficult to overcome in an emergency but how is that that she walks so quietly in solid armor?

“I was injured?”

“You didn’t feel it?” Uraraka’s brown eyes soften a bit when you shake your head, “A few nicks here and there. The problem was that gash under your arm." She rests her hand on your bicep and taps her fingers suggestively, keeping pace, "Poisoned."

The prince cut his hand on that little arrowhead and the blade that struck you couldn't have been bigger than a hairpin for you to have missed its impact. Poison, of all things. Feeling your body now there isn’t a single scratch and this morning the prince’s hands were perfect– perfectly fine. Not even bandages. You’d save your quickly blooming bout of questions for the doctor.

The present regains your attention awhen Uraraka pulls you around another corner. "There's only one bandit in the area that works with poison," her voice is soft, conspiratory, "She could have teamed up with this flame mage to attack your caravan last night. I told Shoto not to send you such a lavish carriage–"

"I don't think that man was trying to rob us."

Like any city, Takoba has its bandits and thieves. Aldera too, could never rid itself of every rotten marksman in the kingdom, but this mage knew your party. Knew that Master Aizawa was with you. He’d trailed you for gods know how long and knew that you came from Aldera.

You hope Aizawa is safe. You hope Shinsou made it back along with your injured company.

The dull drone of voices grows louder as your escort guides the pair of you from the foyer to a passageway, obviously winding about to some grand destination. Everything in Takoba so far is a maze. You’re ushered under a low archway.

“Do you have their names, Miss Uraraka?”

The guard chuckles and clanks down a set of narrow stairs behind you, “The bandits? Are you investigating on your first day here?”

“Yes.”

“When we finally identify Takoba's league of masked villains, you'll be the first to know.” Her voice echoes a bit in the tight space. She’s still smiling, “And take a left here.”

The windowless stairwell opens up into a space that takes a few seconds to comprehend. You and Uraraka stand under the shadow of a great staircase in an even greater room and she smiles as your lips part. However many stories the castle had, this room was as tall as the highest.

Little windows dot its vast walls on two sides, but they don’t look outside, no, internal windows above great open balconies are all completely contained within this one place. They’re glimpses into the rest of the castle and perfect for staff and guests alike to spy on the grandeur of the entrance hall from anywhere in the maze. The Takoban crest hangs on a flag in rich blues at the center of all four walls. The trim– you can barely see so high in the air– is molded into a length of crashing waves that wrap around the room from above, and even higher than that is the mural at the ceiling.

Is it the stars? The sea? Cool blues and greens whip a frenzy around metallic constellations that make the room feel both, even taller, and even brighter.

You creep out from behind the shadow of the staircase to get a better look. This outer side is lined with that familiar blue quilt, but the wall of it goes up forty feet and must do the same at each end. Coming around the corner, you’re met with the polished white marble of no fewer than two hundred steps.

You can picture the Takoban queen descending in silence for a great many minutes, clicking, twinkling, to the sound of a room filled with bated, unbreathing, awe.

“Follow me,” your escort laughs, and while you are quick to fall behind her, she does not have your attention.

Straight ahead of the staircase are doors– the doors, gods– what must be the castle’s front entrance is sealed by the two largest wooden doors possibly ever made. The area around Takoba is bare beach because they’ve cut down the forest to mold these gargantuan things. They’re tall and that goes without saying, but they’re also laden in blue stones and silver. Metalworks create stars in the wood and cover great sharp angles with forged curves. It must take ten men to open each one.

“Over here,” Uraraka guides you across the expanse of the room to a much more modest set of doors. Less grand but still probably dreamed up by great elven silversmiths. You follow her without fight.

Looking back, the tight stairwell you emerged from is nothing but a chip in the architecture now, put to such a formidable scale. You're little more than a speck. Takoba is haunting, yes, but very, very beautiful.

Uraraka says something too quiet to hear over the din of mixed voices. They’re muted and bouncing off the impossibly high walls of this grand entryway. Who is speaking?

“Y/n?”

“Yes?” You turn back sharply, unsure of how many times the guard has tried to get your attention.

Uraraka must have knocked because the silver doors part in front of you and a roar of voices burst from the crack. Sunlight too, so bright you can’t see inside without squinting, and then you realize you’re expected to move.

Your escort’s face comes back into focus and it's kind, “Don’t be scared, I’ll walk with you.” She offers you her arm as the doors open wider and when you don’t budge she takes your hand.

“How do you know my name?” You try to ask over the consuming throng of voices and light.

“Your prince told me.”

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tagged angels ✧.* @nnubee @cherrykamado @nonomesupposedto @zombiewarprincess @kotarousproperty @strawberry-mentos69 @sveetnn @eirlysian @lunrai @km7474 @arayoflia @annoyingleftpinky @noomaisdone @cr33pycrawlerr @iced-chai-tea-latte @cathwritestragediesnotsins @tragicallygray @idimmadontgiveashit @kooromin @k1tk4tkatsuki @litiri @kiwibao @kiwifujin @mmmaackerel @sarcasticlittlebook @condy-wants-a-cookie @mysticalfridge @dududubebo @falling4fandoms @katanaski @babitchsuki @romiinlove @cherripunch26

[thebest-medicine]

could I get some lee hunter owl house tickles with 24 “Sounds like someone needs a visit from the tickle monster” ?

Prompt 24 - “Sounds like someone needs a visit from the tickle monster."

A/N: omg poor baby hunter NEEDS a visit from the tickle monster

…

“You’re really grumpy today, did you pinch yourself with needles too many times sewing?” Gus asked, sitting on the arm of the couch.

“No. Don’t know what you’re talking about, I'm fine. I’m perfectly happy.” He replied, notably unhappy sounding.

“You don’t sound very happy.” Willow’s voice came in from the top of the stairs. She made her way down toward them.

“Yeah. You know what you sound like?” Gus said, a small smirk growing on his face as he caught eyes with Willow.

“What?” Hunter asked a little sharply.

“You sound like you need a visit from the tickle monster.” Gus found himself fully smiling by the end of the sentence. He locked eyes with Hunter for a moment as it sank it what he said.

Hunter’s eyes went wide, his cheeks pink, his ears warm. Suddenly, whatever inner turmoil he’d be ruminating over all day seemed to be nothing, gone with a few simple words.

“Wha.. Gus.. Y-you can’t be serious..?” He broke eye contact and turned to his other friend, swallowing hard before he continued. “W-Willow?”

“I think you’re right, Gus.” Willow teased, hopping over the back of the couch through the side of the stairs on Hunter’s other side.

“Guys… wait a second…” Hunter protested, a giddiness bubbling from within.

“Okay.” Willow said. “One second!”

“Listen! I think I hear one now!”

“Yeah it’s close! You’d better watch out Hunter…it’s closing in!” Willow said ominously, wiggling her fingers into menacing claws and further boxing him in.

Hunter brought his legs up to his chest at the teasing, curling into a ball and smiling already, troubles long forgotten.

“Oh no! It’s here!” Gus proclaimed in faux distress, then he leapt toward him and wrapped his arms around Hunter’s waist, pinching and tickling and scribbling into the fabric of his shirt.

“AHH hah- nohohoho- guys! HahahaHA!” Hunter laughed, free and unabashed. Willow joined in the tickle monster attack shortly after, grabbing for his wrists and quickly taking his flailing arms out of the equation. “Wahahahait! HeheheEE NAHAHA! No fahaHAIR!”

“The tickle monster doesn’t play fair, sorry Hunter!” Willow teased. Once she had him wrestled against the couch, she used one hand to tickle along his neck and collarbone, making him squeal through his laughter. The two of them continued their playful attack for a few minutes longer, until their cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much.

Hunter wouldn’t be keen to say it, but he appreciated his friend’s occasional little tickle-monster attacks when he was feeling down, and today was no different. That didn’t mean, however, that he wouldn’t get them back.

…

[more sentence starter fic prompts]

[other sentence starter fics]

[read this & further TOH drabbles on ao3]

[lopsicle]

Writing is hard when your so full of tired sleepy

I got creative with the prompt and I’m not sure if this qualifies as a chase but oh well, I really like this one anyway

Flyer Derby

Tickletober Day 6: Chase

Fandom: The Owl House

Characters: Lee! Hunter, Ler! Emerald Entrails

Summary: Willow makes a bet with Hunter to see if he could beat the rest of his team. Shenanigans and hijinks ensue. (I love those words :3)

Warnings: Tickle Fic, light restraints at the end, not proofread.

——

It was becoming increasingly rare that the Emerald Entrails would have the chance to ever practice or play together, which was surprising. Their teammate, Hunter was literally living in the school now but most of them seemed nervous, like they were in the calm before the storm. The Day of Unity hung over them all, their worries about it only becoming worse as Hunter revealed it’s true nature to the rest of Hexside.

That was exactly why it was so important for them to just let loose even if it was just for a little while. Just one evening where everything would be okay, so they could actually experience the calm they’d been so desperate to receive.

This game would be a little different then all their other causal matches of Flyer Derby however. Willow had made a bet with Hunter, the reason unknown to him, maybe she just wanted to see how good of a player he was or just wanted to see him get tickled silly. The idea was Hunter would play against all four of his teammates, the catch being they were only allowed to touch him by tickling him so it was a little more fair, or unfair depending on how you view it.

Hunter, terribly flustered by the idea since he knew his own sensitivity, still accepted for whatever reason. Maybe he wanted to get tickled by Willow, or maybe he just wanted to show up his team in anyway he could. He was probably just too flustered to reject the idea entirely, barely able to word his agreement to her.

And now here he was, standing on the opposite side of the lengthy, trap filled pitch to all his friends, seeming pretty eager to wreck the poor blonde. Anticipation was threatening to plunge deep into his heart as he readied himself, not able to shake that light nervous feeling that buzzed in his mind. The Grimwalker had a tight grip on his staff, his cardinal Palisman sat motionless at the end. It was a bit reassuring to know at least one of his friends was on his side for this game.

‘Don’t you lot have a plan for this?’ Viney asked, leaning back on Puddles as she stroked the Griffin’s neck. ‘That guy is..well was the Golden Guard, do you really think we can just swoop it and steal a victory from him?’ She fretted, but wasn’t met with much worry.

‘Well, maybe we wouldn’t win against any other Golden Guard, but our one happens to be real ticklish, there’s no way he’ll be able to resist this!’ Willow smiled at Viney, placing a hand on her shoulder casually.

‘Oh, and go for his ribs, that’s a killer spot!’ Gus said loudly, making sure Hunter heard, making his cheeks already to a dark shade of red. He squeaked a little under his breath, already thrown off guard and just anticipated would what happen next. Flyer Derby was nerve wracking enough but mixing it with something as silly as tickling…he was just glad he didn’t have an audience, something he’d been fairly insistent on since he wasn’t fond of being tickled out in the open.

Gus then cast an illusion of himself, to act as a makeshift announcer to the centre of the field as the two teams stepped forward closer to the centre of the pitch.

‘The rules for this one are a little switched up to how we usually do it, folks,’ Gus’ illusion smiled widely, keeping his hands behind his back. ‘Hunter will be trying to steal our teams flags, and if he manages that, he wins the bet! Our team, the better team, can only interact with him by tickling him until he surrenders, which is when Willow will win the bet.’

‘If,’ Hunter said, ‘If Willow wins!’ He smirked, trying to alleviate some of his tension by getting competitive.

‘Good luck with that, blondie!’ Skara shouted from across the field, not wanting the opposing team to get the last word in. Hunter just made a ‘hmp’ sound, readying his staff to his side, while his eyes narrowed on the prizes in front of him. Four flags dangling on his friend’s staffs, all he had to do was grab them quickly and he’d be spared from the merciless tickling he was sure to be forced through in this game. I mean, he could handle that, right?

‘Three,’ Hunter hopped on his staff.

‘Two,’ He watched the other side do the same.

‘One!’ In a split second, all four of his friends had managed to split up in other directions, with Gus summoning a cloud of smoke just to make it even harder for him to keep track on who was who. Hunter gritted his teeth a little, feeling a little better now that the game had actually started, but still had the ever looming threat of tickling hanging over him.

The boy quickly took up in the air, his eyes were first set on Skara who seemed like the easiest to take out. Hunter quickly found himself following behind d the bard student, gaining on her at high speed. The girl squeaked as she realised she was a target, sourly regretting trying to get in the last word now.

Hunter waited until just the right moment, keeping all his focus on the flag in front of him, before blipping through the air with the help of his Palisman, grabbing Skara’s flag before she could even process what happened. Once she did though, she immediately plunged towards Hunter, not to regain her stolen item, no, she decided to be petty and tickle him for the Hell of it.

Skara’s nails scratched down from the back of Hunter’s knees down to his calves, making the poor blonde squeal as he kept his legs as still as possible, not wanting to let go of his staff. He sped up, just causing her nails to trail further down his leg, ending up at the top of his left boot which she managed to pry out, letting it fall to the ground.

Hunter huffed as he managed to get away, looking a little flustered now that he was more exposed but at least he was far away enough from Skara now. All he had to do was find the others and-

‘Gotcha!’ Viney yelled triumphantly, wrapping one arm around Hunter’s waist securely. The boy fell back on his staff a bit, having to lean against Viney’s side for support; a parasitic way of pinning someone.

‘Viney, no fair!’ Hunter whined, still trying to wriggle about in her grip but he was quickly shut up by a couple fingers scribbling against his tummy.

‘Oh hush, Hunter, we both know your loving this, you wouldn’t of agreed otherwise!’ The brunette smirked, snaking her hand around his back to squeeze at his sides, forcing him to crash into her even more.

‘N-nahahahaah, I dihihihhidn’t!!’ Hunter tried to protest but it was hard to take him seriously through all his cackling and the fact that his face was just getting redder and redder. Getting teased really threw Hunter off his game, it was like he couldn’t fit clearly when being tickled.

‘Coochie coochie coo, gigglebug!’

Unluckily for him, Viney caught onto this pretty quickly. The babyish teasing was almost too much for Hunter to bear as he felt his ears start to heaten from all the teasing. He curled his arms to his sides and wriggled about in her grip as much as he could but he just couldn’t get away from her.

‘Eheheheheheheh!’

Gasping, Hunter reached out to his Palisman, Flapjack, and let him return to his normal form, causing his staff to disintegrate right from under him. Hunter swiftly grabbed Viney’s flag as he began free falling, sticking his tongue out at her as Flapjack flew right back down to him, turning back into a staff as Hunter caught him.

‘Ha! I had no idea that would work!’ He smiled, repositioning himself on his staff as he quickly got back into flying around, not wanting Skara or Viney to catch up to him.

Now came the part he was dreading the most. Willow and Gus. Gus’ illusions could cause a real problem for him, he had to be checking just to make sure the flags he had caught so far were real and he was sure the boy was planning something. And Willow…was Willow. The boy had a crush on her for crying out loud, he’d shut down if she even got the chance to tickle him.

Luckily he wouldn’t have to find her, as Willow would find him first.

‘Oh, Hunter! Behind you!’ The girl sang, causing Hunter’s blush to immediately return as he shot around, though he saw Willow just standing there. Standing on her staff.

‘You should be more careful with your illusions, Gus.’ Hunter pointed out casually, immediately darting for ‘Willow’, feeling more confident now that he knew it was just a disguise. But, as he drew near, he failed to realise how well his friend’s mirages has developed as he had not only created an illusion of Willow to throw Hunter off but was concealed just a couple feet to the left of it. And when Hunter drew near, he pounced on him.

The boy jumped from his own staff to Hunter’s, letting his chameleon Palisman nestle up on his shoulders. With a crash landing, he immediately clung onto Hunter, a little scared he would fall.

‘Oh, come on, you totally stole my- mahahahahave!’ Hunter barked with laughter as his friend began squeezing his hips, making him yelp and jump all about. He did consider doing his staff disappearing trick that he used with Viney, but he didn’t want to hurt Gus, probably something the boy planned by jumping onto his staff. The only thing Hunter could really do was sit there and take it.

‘Come on man, just give in, you know you can’t beat me and Willow!’ Gus cooed from behind him, finally beginning to prod at those sensitive ribs of his, making Hunter Damm near shriek and madly thrash about on his staff.

‘EEEK!! WAIHAHAAHT, NAHAHAHA GUHAHAHAHAAHS!!’ Hunter nearly screamed in laughter, barely able to keep a hold of his staff. Gus gripped onto him a little tighter, not wanting either of them to get tipped off. Gus would keep at it, scribbling and scraping at Hunter’s ribs with no mercy and just when the blonde thought things couldn’t get worse, it did.

‘Your really doing a number on him, aren’t you, Gus?’ Willow giggled, flying down next to the sight of the two boys. She casually reached over and took back Hunter’s stolen flags.

‘NAHAHAHA FAIHAHAHAR!!’ Hunter bellowed with laughter, leaning hunched over on his staff to try and get his ribs away from his friend. In return, Willow wriggled her nails against the back of his neck, making him arch right back upwards.

‘Poor boy, I almost forgot you were THIS ticklish,’ Willow chuckled, prodding along one set of his ribs while Gus scratched at the other. Hunter, who had just lost all his progress and was now having his worst spot tagged team by two skilled lers, caved in almost immediately.

‘I SUHAHAHAHRRENDER!!’

With that, Gus hopped back on his own staff while Willow gently helped Hunter back down to the ground, it being a bit hard for the tickled out boy to fly.

‘You know, you handled all that really well! I mean, you managed to best two of our team members and looked good doing it! I’m proud of what you did today, Hunter!’

She smiled at him as the boy blushed more, his smile practically beaming.

‘T-thsnk you, Captain, that, uh, means a lot!’ Hunter cooed as he hopped off his staff, Willow next to him as the rest of the Emerald Entrails stood around them.

Though almost immediately as Hunter stood on the ground, two vines wrapped around his wrists and pulled them behind his back, beneath his shoulder blades. A couple more gently pulled him down onto his knees, all while Willow smirked at his confusion.

‘Don’t tell me you forgot our bet? I’m pretty sure we agreed that if you lost, I get to tickle you for ten minutes!’

Hunter’s whole face went beet red as Willow kneeled down across from him, his eyes wide with anticipation.

‘CAHAHAHPTAIN, NAHAHAHAHAHA!!’

—-

I am so shleepy

[iamchaos1234]

Why not? Hunter headcanons, let's go! (TW mentions of blood, gore, death, bullying, etc)(holy shit that's a lot-)

Since he is a grimwalker that has a few affects on him. In the dark his eyes glow faintly blue, which he hates since it reminds him of Belos.

Another affect of being a grimwalker, since one of the ingredients to create one is Stonesleeper, Hunter's ears are very sensitive and ticklish. Willow loves to scratch him behind the ears, and it helps him sleep

Last grimwalker thing I'll address right now, his hair grows much faster than most. His canines are also a bit more prominent and large, causing a bit of a fanged look

He couldn't die, per se, unless the galderstone was directly damaged or all energy was drained from it too fast, such as using very powerful spells or bleeding so much it spent all its energy and had no time to recover

Hunter got hardly any sleep back as the golden guard as his only time with no duties was after hours, which was a very small time frame at night. And often times instead of sleeping he would research how to help Belos's curse, so at most he normally got 2-4 hours.

In addition, even after he ran away from the emperors coven and even in the human realm, he felt guilty for sleeping more than he used to, thinking of it as a waste of precious time.

He sleeps way better when with Willow or Luz

Hunter, after the events of Watching and Dreaming, went back to the human realm with Luz. He needed time to recover from everything, and went with Luz to help with repairs. After a couple years he returned back fully, staying with Darius. He considers himself both a Noceda and a Deamonne

He 100% got obsessed with video games in the human realm. His favorites were Zelda, especially BOTW and TOTK. He also loves animal crossing and pokemon sword. His favorite pokemon is Zacian.

Hunter hates eating in front of others. He has extreme food guilt and starves himself temporarily as a punishment to himself if he makes a mistake. This stems from the fact Belos would cut off his food if he messed up, as well as water.

When he upsets others he will often hide in the basement in a closet. Hunter feels removing himself is the best solution to most problems. Gus is the only one who really knows this, though Luz finds out later.

Panic attacks got more common after Hollow Mind, though he did have a few before then. Every time he would lock his door and curl up in a corner. He didn't want to show weakness.

After Hollow Mind he would have very strong reactions to certain triggers, and it only got worse as things continued. His eyes glowing was one of them, as well as when his hair got too long. Emperors guards also made him panic, worried they would take him back. Even Belos's name would make him start hyperventilating.

The scar across his cheek is from Belos, who got mad at him when he snapped at Belos from concern about the curse. He blamed himself fully.

The nick on his ear however, is from a particularly brutal training session. His ear was sliced almost in half, and it bled a lot but he kept fighting. He won.

Hunter has so many scars its hard to count. Some from Golden Guard training, which was vigorous and brutal. Others from taking hits for his friends in the final battles. There is one scar on his upper arm he got from tripping down a flight of stairs in the emperors palace. He isn't proud of that.

He feels guilty for letting Luz get a scar. He doesn't want anyone else to have to live with it like he does. He has a hard time not tearing up when he sees it.

Hunter went to school with Luz at her human school for the years he lived with her, saying he was a brother who had been in a boarding school before. He was very protective of Luz but ended up being a target for bullying as well.

Despite look tough to others he is very sensitive. He would sometimes come home with tears in his eyes from those bullies. Luz beat the shit out of them the very next day. Eventually they just stopped since Luz started fighting back

Hunter hates crying. He only really cries in front of Luz, but anyone else he finds it incredibly stupid and embarrassing. It's just a weakness he should hide is what he thinks. So he normally does. He had to back as the golden guard, so why not now?

Multiple times when training he almost died. One time his stomach got ripped open by a slitherbeast during the venture up the knee. That scar in particular he avoids looking at

Hunter is very strongly bonded with Luz. They act very much like true siblings, often annoying each other on purpose and wrestling, but both know when to stop and both are very comforting and protective of the other.

His connection with Vee is a bit less strong, but he did punch a bully hard enough to knock out a few teeth when they were messing with her. So that's something.

Hunter apologizes to Vee almost constantly for being one of the people to imprison her. He offers to have her punish him, which absolutely horrified her. They are chill now, and like to binge watch shows together

He 100% has a fursona which he is very proud of. Hunter would never admit it but he considers himself a furry. It's one of his ways to express himself, and Luz is very supportive of this, helping him design the fursona

At human school Hunter managed to get placed in the same grade as Luz, but he was older than everyone in the classes. He struggled a lot in math, but loved ELA and science. They took him out of class during social studies after he had a severe panic attack during class when the topic reminded him of the whole disaster with Belos

Hunter likes to draw in his free time, at first heavily picked up from Luz. But he eventually gained his own art style, which was a bit more sharp and edgy

He loves musicals and will always stay up to watch them even if everyone else already fell asleep.

Hunter likes rock music, but also enjoys most pop songs. He loves to dance along with Willow to love songs. He hates country music with a passion.

He considers Gus his closest friend. The two absolutely love having sleepovers in which they binge cosmic frontier and share about what's going on in the different dimensions.

Willow ends up asking Hunter out the day he moves back to the boiling isles. He ended up running away, feeling like he was being taunted and that it was some sort of illusion. Willow goes to find him, and he ends up accepting.

It takes him time to get used to dating Willow, but he is very affectionate. Willow loves picking him up.

As a younger kid, Belos was a bit more nice to him and would sometimes play around with him. This was purely to gain his trust, but Hunter still wonders if he ever really cared.

In his time during the human realm after everything he visits Darius like, every other day. They become very close

Hunter definitely has a sweet tooth

My hand hurts but that's all for now lol. Wanna here more headcanons for TOH? Tell me who you want next in the comments, thanks for reading!

[xxtheophilusxx]

Laughter Among Friends

Summary: A light-hearted day with the Tokyo Manji Gang turns playful as the group engages in some unexpected fun. Bonds are strengthened, and camaraderie is at the forefront, showcasing the deep connections among the characters. Laughter and teasing fill the air, highlighting the warmth and closeness that define their relationships.

Warning: Tickling Word count: 1.3k

The evening sun cast a golden hue over the familiar streets of Shibuya, the light filtering through the buildings and painting the surroundings in a warm, almost nostalgic glow. The members of the Tokyo Manji Gang were winding down after another day of training, the atmosphere relaxed as they gathered in a park near their usual hangout spot.

Takemichi, the de facto leader and time-traveling underdog, sat on a bench, wiping the sweat from his brow. His usually messy blonde hair was even more disheveled than usual, but there was a content smile on his face. It had been a tough day, but seeing his friends in high spirits made it all worthwhile.

Nearby, Mikey, the invincible leader of Toman, was sprawled out on the grass, using Draken’s lap as a pillow. His eyes were half-lidded, but a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he listened to the banter between the others.

Draken, ever the stoic but gentle giant, absentmindedly ran his fingers through Mikey’s hair, though he occasionally glanced over at the others with a knowing look in his eyes. He could tell something was brewing.

On the other side of the park, Chifuyu and Mitsuya were deep in conversation, the former animatedly talking about something that had happened during school, while Mitsuya listened with a calm, understanding expression. Nearby, Hakkai and Smiley were engaged in a playful shoving match, though it was clear neither was putting any real force into it.

The peaceful moment was abruptly interrupted by the arrival of Baji, who seemed to be in an unusually mischievous mood. With a grin that could only spell trouble, he sauntered over to where Takemichi was sitting and plopped down beside him.

“Yo, Takemitchy,” Baji began, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “You look like you could use a little… cheering up.”

Takemichi raised an eyebrow, already wary of what Baji might be planning. “What are you talking about, Baji-kun? I’m fine.”

Baji’s grin only widened as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, I think you’re in for a surprise.”

Before Takemichi could react, Baji’s hands shot out, fingers wiggling as they made contact with Takemichi’s sides. The effect was instantaneous—Takemichi let out a surprised yelp, his entire body jolting as the unexpected tickle attack caught him off guard.

“W-what the—Baji-kun!” Takemichi’s protests were cut off by a burst of laughter as Baji’s fingers continued their relentless assault on his sides, the older boy clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting.

“Kehehehe! S-stop it, Baji-kun! Th-this isn’t funny!” Takemichi’s giggles bubbled up uncontrollably, his attempts to squirm away from Baji proving futile as the older boy’s fingers found every sensitive spot.

“Oh, come on, Takemitchy! Don’t tell me you’re ticklish!” Baji teased, though the laughter in his voice indicated that he already knew the answer.

“B-Baji-kun! P-please!” Takemichi’s pleas were interspersed with uncontrollable giggles, his body twisting as he tried to escape the onslaught.

The commotion quickly drew the attention of the others, and soon, a small crowd had gathered around the scene. Mikey, now fully awake, was watching with an amused grin, while Draken shook his head with a fond sigh.

“What’s going on over there?” Mikey asked, though it was clear he was already enjoying the spectacle.

“Looks like Baji’s having some fun,” Mitsuya remarked, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched Takemichi’s futile attempts to escape.

Chifuyu, who had initially been concerned for his friend, quickly realized what was happening and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Takemitchy’s in trouble now!”

“Let’s help him out!” Smiley suggested, already making his way over to the pair with Hakkai in tow.

Takemichi’s eyes widened as he saw Smiley and Hakkai approaching, and he quickly shook his head, trying to convey a silent plea for mercy. “N-no, wait—guys, don’t—!”

But his words fell on deaf ears as Smiley and Hakkai joined in on the tickle attack, each taking a side as they joined forces with Baji. Takemichi was quickly overwhelmed, his laughter echoing through the park as the three boys showed no mercy.

“C-come on, guys! I-I can’t—breathe!” Takemichi managed to gasp out between fits of laughter, tears of mirth starting to form at the corners of his eyes.

Mikey, who had been watching the scene with increasing interest, suddenly sat up, a mischievous glint in his own eyes. “Draken, you think they need some help over there?”

Draken raised an eyebrow, clearly understanding where this was going, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Are you planning to join in?”

“Of course!” Mikey declared, hopping to his feet with the energy of a child about to cause trouble. Without waiting for a response, he made his way over to the group, Draken following behind with an amused shake of his head.

By the time Mikey and Draken arrived, Takemichi was practically in tears from the relentless tickling, his laughter completely uncontrollable. Baji, Smiley, and Hakkai were clearly having the time of their lives, each one trying to outdo the other in finding the most ticklish spots.

“Kehehe! N-no more! Hahaha! P-please, stop!” Takemichi pleaded, his voice breaking from the effort of laughing so hard.

Mikey, now fully in on the mischief, grinned down at Takemichi. “Sorry, Takemitchy, but you’re too much fun to mess with!” He then leaned in, wiggling his fingers near Takemichi’s ribs.

“Ahahaha! Mikey-kun, not you too!” Takemichi’s laughter reached a higher pitch as Mikey’s fingers found their mark, his whole body squirming helplessly.

Draken, ever the responsible one, decided to intervene just as Mikey was about to go for Takemichi’s most ticklish spot. “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Draken finally said, his tone firm as he stepped forward to put an end to the tickle attack. “Give the poor guy a break.”

Reluctantly, the others backed off, each one still grinning from ear to ear as they watched Takemichi curl up on the ground, trying to catch his breath. His face was flushed, and tears of laughter were streaming down his cheeks, but there was a smile on his face nonetheless.

“Y-you guys are… the worst,” Takemichi managed to say between ragged breaths, though there was no real anger in his voice.

“Aw, come on, Takemitchy, you know you love us,” Baji teased, ruffling Takemichi’s hair as he plopped down beside him on the grass.

Mikey, now satisfied with his mischief, sat down on the other side of Takemichi and gave him a playful poke in the side, earning a half-hearted swat in response. “You did good, Takemitchy. You survived.”

Takemichi could only shake his head, though the smile on his face never wavered. Despite the unexpected tickle attack, there was a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t deny. Being surrounded by friends—no, by family—was something he had come to treasure more than anything.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the park, the group gradually settled down, the earlier chaos giving way to a peaceful silence. Takemichi found himself leaning back against the bench, a content sigh escaping his lips as he looked up at the sky.

“Hey, Takemitchy,” Mikey’s voice broke the silence, drawing Takemichi’s attention.

“Yeah?”

“You know we’ve got your back, right? No matter what happens.”

Takemichi’s heart swelled with emotion at Mikey’s words, and he nodded, unable to find the right words to express what he was feeling. But he didn’t need to—Mikey already knew.

“Thanks, Mikey,” Takemichi finally said, his voice soft but sincere.

Mikey simply smiled in response, his expression uncharacteristically gentle as he looked out at the horizon. “Anytime, Takemitchy. Anytime.”

And as the evening sun set behind the buildings, casting the city in a warm, golden glow, Takemichi knew that no matter what the future held, he would always have a place where he belonged—right here, with his friends.

[amazingmsme]

What Do We Have Here?

AN: Finally finished the milestone celebration, & I’m already almost halfway to the next one! I can’t believe how much this blog has grown, my 15 year old self would be so shook if she knew how far she’d come. But I’m not here to get sappy, I’m here to deliver some highly requested curtwen fluff! Hope y’all enjoy the newest installment of the fake interrogation series!

All traditions must start somewhere, even the more unconventional ones. Especially the unconventional ones. Curt remembered it like it was yesterday...

He had just disposed of the remaining guards in the long hallway. The entire building had been strangely sparse, with few obstacles in his path which could only mean one thing: Owen got their first.

Damn it, he really hated when Owen got there before he did. He took all the fun out of it, only to later rub it in his face. It looked like it was shaping up to be one of those times.

That is, until Curt stumbled upon a room being used to interrogate one Owen Carvour. Oh, this was just too good.

He managed to change into one of the less bloodied uniforms from a previously disposed guard. He put on a straight face and marched in like he owned the place. All three heads snapped to look his way.

"Sorry to interrupt gentlemen, but there's been an issue. You're both needed in the lab."

"Excuse me?"

"Who the hell are-"

"Don't give me your fucking lip! Get to the lab now, that's an order!" Curt demanded in such a tone that left little room for argument. The interrogators reluctantly left their battered victim, but not before one spat on Owen before leaving. The other stared him down as he walked out of the room. Curt let them get halfway down the hall before firing two shots, watching them crumble.

Curt was sure they had been the last ones in the building, but just to be safe, he shut the heavy door, concealing them as he freed his partner.

"Perfect timing Mega, they were just about to go for the teeth," Owen quipped as Curt sauntered towards him.

"Pity. If only I'd been a few minutes late," he teased, squatting in front of him to untie his legs. Owen smirked down at him, biting back a larger grin.

"I'll be sure to remember that the next time you're in this situation," he shot back, cocking his head smugly. Curt rolled his eyes, reaching up to squeeze his knee in retaliation. He expected an annoyed huff, maybe a chuckle, but what he got in return was so much better. He shrieked and his entire body jerked in his bonds, even making the chair hop slightly.

They locked eyes, and it only took a moment for Curt to put the pieces together. Owen was already shaking his head, "No no no, Curt wait!"

"Why didn't you tell me you were ticklish?" he asked instead, cutting him off abruptly. "We could've been having so much fun together," he practically purred, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. His legs twitched in response, tugging on the rope around his ankles.

"That's exactly why, now quit fooling around and get me out of here!" he demanded, hissing through clenched teeth. Curt hummed in thought, tapping his fingers impatiently on Owen's bouncing knee.

"I don't knooooow," he drawled as he stood up and began pacing the room. "This is a very interesting situation." He didn't even bother trying to hide his smirk as he watched Owen glare up at him from his seat. "Oh come on, don't give me that look."

"Then let me out."

"On second thought- no. After all, a man doesn't get in a situation like this every day..." he mused, circling his trapped partner like a hungry wolf.

"Curt, I'm serious!"

"Oh so am I! I mean, this is a real golden opportunity here!"

"Seriously Curt, stop quoting It's a Wonderful Life, you're not George Bailey," Owen scolded as he tried to free himself, seeing as Curt would be useless in that effort. "Have you forgotten we have a job to do?"

"Actually," he corrected with a shit eating grin. "I finished it. Cleared the building too." Owen felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. "So really, we have all the time in the world."

Owen frantically shook his head, scooting the chair away from his downright evil companion. "No we don't! I'm supposed to be back at headquarters in 2 hours!"

Curt shrugged, "Alright, so you got a little tied up." He couldn't help but snicker at the pun, making Owen roll his eyes dramatically. "Wouldn't be the first time we ran late."

"Curt."

"I'll just let Cynthia know," he cut him off, pulling up the call on his watch.

"Mega, I hope you're calling with good news," came the unamused drawl through the crackle of static.

"Sure am! Just finishing up around here. But Owen and I are gonna stop off and get a beer, so don't wait up."

"Wasn't planning to." With a click, she was gone, and they were alone once more.

"I hate you."

"That's a lie," Curt said, pointing an accusatory finger and smirking.

Owen snorted, "Not right now, it's not." Curt scoffed, placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh you are so asking for it."

"The only thing I'm asking for is to be let go," he insisted, but the effort was futile. Curt's mind was made up.

"And you will! ... Eventually," Curt said, dropping his voice an octave and putting on a halfway decent Russian accent. Owen smirked in amusement, cocking an eyebrow skeptically.

"Uuh, what are you doing?" he asked, barely holding back a laugh.

"Shut up, I'm interrogating you! What's it look like?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Oh you'll be answering for a lot, actually," Curt mused. He made a show of grabbing the tray of torture tools and dragging it closer. The tiny wheels slid across the smooth, concrete floor and the sound alone sent a chill down Owen's spine. He knew Curt wasn't planning on using them, but the knowledge of their proximity and the damage they could inflict definitely made his heart race more than he'd like to admit.

Curt began rummaging through the tools at his disposal, picking them up for inspection before tossing them haphazardly over his shoulder. "Nope. Not that one. Nu uh. Too quick. No, too messy. No. No. No..." The tools clattered to the ground one after the other. Owen didn't miss the looks tossed his way as Curt showed off, clearly trying to cheer him up.

"Keep doing that, and you'll have nothing left," Owen piped up smugly. He froze and turned to look at him, a dangerous glint in his eye as he held his hands behind his back. He crouched down to speak directly in his ear.

"Trust me, that's the plan," he purred, and Owen hated how good he was at that stupid fucking accent. A deep chuckle curled around his neck, drawing his attention back to his partner.

That was a mistake, because he was met with fingers wiggling threateningly in his direction and he flinched at the sight, giving himself away. He swore under his breath as Curt laughed at him.

"A little jumpy are we?" he teased with a shit eating grin.

"Fuck you," he barked, feeling the last bit of defiance surge within him.

"Well well well, someone's eager to start!"

"Curt, don't!"

"Who is this "Curt" you keep speaking of? I'm Viktor, world class interrogator. And you will talk..."

Owen rolled his eyes, a smart ass quip on the tip of his tongue, when gentle fingers prodding his sides made him swallow the retort. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to meet Curt's teasing gaze.

"They all do."

"That's a bit cliché, even for you, love," Owen said, tilting his head back to smirk up at him.

"Yeah well, I'm not the one tied up, so I wouldn't know," Curt shot back, slipping out of his fake accent before falling back into character. "So... What is it you were hoping to find, snooping around?"

Owen scoffed at the snide dig, but despite his growing annoyance (as well as nerves) he couldn't deny his amusement at the show on display. It was for his benefit, after all. Might as well enjoy it while he still could.

"Your mother's telephone number," he smirked, reveling in the way Curt's jaw dropped to the floor.

And then he felt hands digging into his thighs, and he was a goner.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I heard you correctly. What were you looking for?" Curt repeated, kneading into the soft flesh.

"Curt plehehease! Thihis ihihis stupid!" Owen pleaded through his already growing laughter.

"I told you, I am Viktor," he corrected, squeezing from his upper thighs all the way down to his kneecaps. He gasped and jerked in his bonds when he felt Curt "crack an egg" on his knees, so to speak. His fingers continued scratching his knees in that odd jellyfish-like motion.

Owen's legs twitched from where they were tied down, and he barely held back a surprised laugh. "Q-quit plahaying around! I'm warning yo- NOHO DON'T!" he barked out a laugh when Curt squeezed his knees. He threw his head back and cackled when he didn't stop, only encouraged by the sounds of mirth spilling free from his mouth.

"It would seem I've found your weak spot, Agent Carvour," Curt purred, whispering in his ear so his warm breath curled around his ear and neck. He giggled and scrunched his neck, leaning away in his chair. Curt's eyes sparkled with mischief as he cocked his head. 

"Oh, what's this? Is your neck a little sensitive?" he cooed, scratching under his chin teasingly. He let out a choked snicker, slamming his chin down. Curt chuckled and pulled away. "I'll have to remember that."

"No!"

"I'm sorry, but who's the one tied to the chair?" Curt sassed, slipping back into his normal noice. Owen glared at him instead of answering, and Curt smirked. "Yeah that's what I thought."

"Curt, Ihihi swear, as s-soon as I gehet out of hehehere I'm kihicking your ahahass!" Owen tried to sound threatening through his growing hysterics, but failed miserably.

"I don't think so. See, you'll be way too tired to even lay a finger on me," Curt bragged, scribbling his fingers from his ribs down his sides, pausing to drill his thumbs in the hollows of his hipbones. Owen shrieked and bucked against the ropes that tied him to the chair. In fact, you'll be so tired I'll have to carry you out."

Owen whimpered at the threat, the blush on his cheeks darkening. Curt smirked.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" he taunted.  Owen's jaw dropped.

"I would not!" he denied, yelping when he felt Curt drill circles against the bone.

"Lying will only make things worse, you know," he teased, shooting him a wink. Owen sputtered for an excuse as he squirmed in the chair.

"Ihi hate you!" he giggled, tossing his head back. Curt grabbed his hair and yanked his head back to look at him, and Owen did not need to dwell on how that made him feel right now.

"Oh I'll make you change your mind," he growled, raking his fingers down his ribs. Owen strained against the ropes holding him to the chair as his laughter grew in pitch.

"Ohohokahay, okahay! You wihihin!" Owen conceded, not wanting to give Curt any more reason to torture him.

"Aw, thanks. Can you be my prize?" he asked, walking his fingers up his ribs. Owen gasped and squirmed in his seat.

"Wha- no! Absolutely not!" He sucked in his belly and barked out a laugh when Curt's other hand dug in without warning, scribbling against toned muscle.

“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought of that before saying I win,” he taunted, scribbling over his sides ruthlessly. Owen shrieked, bright laughter pouring from his mouth as he strained against the ropes tied around his body.

“Plehease, behehe reasonable!” he pleaded, bucking like a bull once Curt latched onto his thighs.

“I think I’m being very reasonable, all things considered,” he cooed, raking his nails down the backs of Owen’s knees. He practically convulsed, blushing when a loud snort forced its way out. Curt let out a gleeful, downright sadistic cackle of his own.

“I didn’t peg you as a snorter, Carvour. Didn’t peg you as ticklish either, yet here we are,” he winked at him before scratching the backs of his knees and thighs, drawing out another snort.

“There won’t be pegging of any kind if you don’t hurry and get me the fuck out of here!” He managed to sound semi threatening as he caught his breath, glaring up at Curt. He looked absolutely ravishing as the blush spread across his cheeks, his hair matted to his forehead with a layer of sweat. Curt couldn’t resist, and grabbed him by the chin, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“I will babe, but I’m having too much fun right now. Maybe in a few minutes, I promise.”

“You’re going to regret this once we get back to the hotel.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it.” Curt placed his hands on his hips, resting his forehead against Owen’s as his breath hitched. “In fact, I’m counting on it.”

Owen heaved a deeply annoyed sigh, though he sported a sly smirk. “Fine then. As long as you know what you’re in for.”

Curt knew full and well what was in store for him, but right now, seeing Owen tied up and at his mercy, he knew any retribution he’d face would be worth it.

[marvelcai-75]

SMALL FIC I WROTE:

Lee!X23 and Ler!Wolverine

Logan groans as Laura continues to ignore him, as she sat in the passenger seat.

The little girl stares out the window, as Logan tries to get her attention.

“Kid, stop ignoring me!” Logan says, snapping his fingers and trying to get Laura’s attention.

She continues to ignore him, tapping her fingers against the car door.

Logan sighs and leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

The sun shines through the windows and windshield, illuminating the car in a golden light.

“Kid, please can you listen to me.” Logan tries again, poking her side so she will look at him.

Laura flinches and squeaks, and Logan pauses for a second, before a mischievous smile adorns his face.

“Ticklish, are we?” He asks, smiling slyly, and Laura finally looks over at him, eyes a bit wide and she laughs nervously.

“No..” Laura says, guarding her sides with her arms and Logan raises and amused eyebrow.

“No? Hmm, I don’t know if I believe you…” Logan teases, his voice low.

“Do not.” Laura threatens, glaring and growling at him.

Logan just snorts and reaches out his hand, attacking her side.

Laura immediately breaks out into the most adorable, childish giggles ever and she squirms in the seat of the car.

Logan grins, his heart melting at the sound.

“Does it tickle?” He taunts as Laura squirms and he grabs both of her wrists in one of his hands, holding them above her head.

He attacks her ribs with his hand and Laura thrashes, giggling furiously.

“Wow for a feisty little thing you sure are ticklish.” Logan says, chuckling as he digs into her under arms.

Laura squeals and her laughter up’s an octave.

“Ooohh, bad spot?” Logan asks, and Laura scrunches up her face as she laughs, and she closes her eyes.

Logan internally coo’s, and he smirks at her as he digs into her armpit, still holding her arms above her head.

“Are you gonna listen to me now?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at Laura and she nods her head furiously as she giggles.

Logan smirks and pulls away from her, dropping her wrists.

She pants, a giddy smile still on her face as she hugs herself and giggles breathlessly.

Laura tries to glare at him but she’s still laughing and Logan can’t help but smile fondly.

“That’s what happens when you ignore me, bub.” He says, and ruffles her hair.

Laura grumbles and Logan chuckles.

“Keep up the attitude and I’ll do it again, peanut.” He says, and Laura’s eyes widen and she shakes her no as she giggles nervously.

Logan rolls his eyes fondly as he starts the car.

“Where to, Giggles?”

~~~~~