#tklfics

[tklpilled]

boothill clenches then unclenches his fist. then again, and again, and again. he squeezes tight, trying to remember the feeling of nails pressed into his palm.

a pale hand covers his, spreading his fingers out and resting flat in his palm. "what do you need?" asks a gentle voice, robin's face smiling up at him.

boothill sighs. "i dunno. just—" he takes her hand, pulling it up to his cheek. he closes his eyes, relishing in the soft feel of her skin on his, the only form of contact he gets these days. she rubs her thumb along his cheekbone, tracing the moles under his eye.

"f—udge," boothill grumbles to himself, tightening his hold on her wrist. "i hate this."

"i know," robin says, her soothing voice washing over him. "it's okay."

she moves to brush a lock of hair from his face, trailing her fingers around the shell of his ear. he twitches, turning his head slightly.

"too much?" she asks, ready to pull her hand away, but boothill grabs her and keeps her there.

"no," he says, clenching his jaw. "'s fine. please."

so she continues, her fingertips brushing around his ear, along his jawline, and she pieces it together once he huffs out a tiny laugh.

"you're ticklish," she giggles, repeating her actions, and despite himself boothill smiles, leans into her touch, lets himself giggle once or twice.

it will never be the same again, but for right now he thinks he'll be okay.

[tklpilled]

cannibal

asking ochako what she and toga are would be like asking if tomatoes are fruits or vegetables. there’s the logical answer, the one that’s objectively correct: tomatoes are fruits, and she and toga are enemies. an undeniable fact. but there's another answer, the one that isn’t technically true but that feels right, like it would be true if circumstances were different: that a tomato is a vegetable. that ochako and toga are lovers.

ochako doesn’t think either answer is entirely right. she thinks they’re too gentle to be enemies. she thinks they’re too violent to be lovers.

toga pins her to the ground, blade in hand, sharp smile on her face. her love is an obsessive kind, one that acts like it wants to consume ochako whole. 

“ochako-chan,” she says, eyes glistening with bloodlust. “won’t you give me a taste?”

ochako squirms beneath her, some mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through her. “you’ll have to work for it.”

toga tosses her head back with a laugh and ochako thinks it may just be the prettiest sound in the world, a high-pitched giggle that makes her sound just like the schoolgirl she is. “you can never make it easy for me, can you?”

ochako grins, and in an instant she’s wriggled her way out and begins to run.

she’s not trying, really. she could easily run much faster, and she thinks toga knows that. it’s like this every time; ochako doesn’t run fast, or she doesn’t go very far, allowing toga to catch her every single time. she lives for the thrill of it.

she feels toga’s arms wrap around her waist before she’s on the ground again in quite a similar position as before, only this time she’s face-down in the grass. she turns her head to look up at the villain, a smug look on her face even though she’s lost this little game of theirs. in a way, she’s still winning.

toga leans in, her breath brushing against ochako’s ear. “caught you~!” she giggles, pressing most of her weight against ochako’s back. she taps her fingers against the hero’s arm. “you’re not going easy on me, are you, ochako-chan?”

ochako smiles up at her. “of course not,” she lies smoothly. “you caught me fair and square.”

toga sighs, her head drooping a bit. “you do look cute when you’re all bloodied,” she says, twirling her knife between her fingers. “but i don’t know…i’m thinking of switching things up!” she picks her head back up, grinning. “are you ticklish, ochako?”

“h-huh?” ochako squeaks out, eyes widening. 

toga continues, an almost disappointed expression on her face. “i see how you always laugh around izuku,” she complains. “i’m getting jealous of him, you know? why don’t you ever laugh like that with me?”

ochako stares in shock for a second before she snorts. “is that it?”

toga hisses, cheeks pinkening. there’s a clattering sound as she tosses her blade aside, manicured nails crawling up ochako’s sides before she can react.

“himiko!” she squeaks, her hands grabbing at toga’s. she tries activating her quirk, but toga is faster than her in this state. she grabs ochako’s wrists and pins them over her head with one hand, her other continuing her merciless assault.

“you’re so cute, ochako!” toga practically squeals, giggling along. “just laugh and i’ll stop, ‘kay? after a while, anyway.”

ochako tries to hold out, but among her list of weaknesses, both tickling and himiko toga are at the top. she falls into laughter, kicking her feet behind her, the only part of her body that she can freely move. she never wears her hero costume when she goes to meet toga, never seeing a reason to, but right now she wishes she had it to protect her.

or, well, a part of her does. the other part of her is undeniably happy, even despite her situation. because toga is smiling with her, and being playful and acting like a regular girl instead of a wanted criminal. ochako’s heart nearly bursts with want, to take her back to u.a. and kiss her and give her every last drop of her blood.

but all she can do is shove the thought away and enjoy the moment while it lasts.

toga lets go of her arms suddenly, grabbing her body and flipping her over to face her. she cups ochako’s cheek with her hand. it’s warm.

“stop frowning like that, ochako,” she says. her voice is always so gentle when she talks to her. “i’m trying to make you laugh. you’re ruining it, you know.”

“i love you,” says ochako before she can stop herself.

“i know,” replies himiko.

ochako looks down at himiko’s hand, still resting against her side. her nails are sharp, pointed. she once thought those nails would rip her apart. she wouldn’t care much if they did.

but they don’t, because himiko has killed and hurt and tortured but ochako is like a goddess to her. so, yes, they claw at her stomach and make her shriek, but no blood is shed and all ochako feels is love. 

“h-hihimikoho!” she squeaks, one hand flying up to her mouth to muffle herself, but himiko pulls it away just as quickly.

“don’t hide from me, ochako-chan,” she coos, lacing their fingers together. “let me see your pretty face!”

ochako falls practically limp, letting himiko toy with her as she wishes. “st-stohohop, stop, tihihickles,” she manages to piece together through endless giggles. the only thing racing through her mind is that it tickles.

it makes himiko laugh. “ha! because i’m tickling you, silly. it’s supposed to.” the tone of her voice makes ochako squirm, butterflies fluttering in her stomach and her face heating up.

there are tears in her eyes when himiko finally relents, brushing messy strands of hair out of ochako’s face. “you’re so cute,” she hums, leaning to place a kiss on ochako’s forehead. it’s one of the gentlest acts that she’ll ever perform.

and when ochako inevitably has to leave, to keep whatever this is a secret, she will give her a kiss in return as a farewell. and himiko will smile and blush in the way ochako loves, and she will place a hand to her lips as if to preserve the feeling forever.

and later, they will meet, and do the same thing again, and ochako does not hurt people and himiko does not save people, but somehow they still fit together perfectly.

[tklpilled]

aventurine is far from a stranger to risk. he's used to gambling, with fate, karma, and death on the other end of the table. it's second nature to him, his hands always looking to flip a card, roll a die, take a chip. he feels nothing anymore — either he wins or he dies, and he's long decided he's content with either outcome.

this is, by far, the riskiest gamble he's ever made.

sneaking up on someone is easy. his steps are silent, his movements swift. no one ever notices him coming.

sneaking up on veritas ratio is a much, much different story.

and yet here he is, mere feet away, unseen — at least, unacknowledged. he's not used to his heart pumping so fast. it's exhilarating.

he strikes, hands reaching out towards the scholar's torso, fingers curled in preparation, and then —

"gambler."

aventurine chuckles, his wrists now trapped in ratio's tight grip. he had expected something like this to happen, anyway. "yes, doctor?"

"care to explain what you're doing?" ratio doesn't turn around, not even to look at him.

"you're smart, aren't you?" a lazy grin finds its way to aventurine's face. "you don't need me to tell you."

ratio squeezes his wrists tighter, making aventurine wince silently. he's released immediately after, and although his reflexes are sharp, they're certainly not on par with ratio's. the scholar has spun around, his hands now on aventurine's waist, and before aventurine can tease him, he squeezes.

aventurine will deny the squeal that leaves his mouth, his eyes widening as he jolts and stiffens up. "s-stohohop ihit!"

"you started this," ratio says, and if aventurine didn't know any better, he'd say there's a hint of amusement in that tone. "i'm merely finishing it."

aventurine doesn't respond, busy delving into frantic laughter as ratio somehow finds each of his sensitive spots with calculated accuracy. it's torturous and awful and so damn ticklish, but he loves the surge of adrenaline that it shoots through his body.

he lost his bet, but truthfully, he doesn't mind.

[tklpilled]

HELLO Venti is sooo the cute..

Can you pretty please write something with him in it? Preferably as a lee, but whatever you'd like to do is fine!!

If not, just ignore this haha ❤️

"how interesting," zhongli muses, "that you'd choose such a sensitive vessel."

"y-yohou're one to tahalk!" whines venti, curling up around zhongli's hand clawing at his tummy.

"i'm not an archon anymore," clarifies zhongli. "it makes sense that i have a fully human form. you, however…"

venti digs his heels into the ground. "enohohough! shut uhup, stohohop it, plehease!"

"it makes me think," zhongli continues, as though there isn't a cackling, desperate bard in front of him, "that you enjoy this. why else would you simply let yourself be so ticklish?"

"d-dohon't say that!" venti wails, blushing up to his ears. "it's nohohot like thahat!"

"oh?" there's a hint of teasing to his tone. "is it the word ticklish that gets to you?"

"mohohorax!"

"is it any variant of the word tickle? perhaps if i point out how much this is tickling you—"

venti shoves his friend's hands away suddenly, scrambling out of reach. "don't be ridiculous," he laughs, though he's blushing even more than before. "a simple word doesn't fluster me."

"…tickle."

"zhongli."

[tklpilled]

scaramouche isn't ticklish.

he doesn't have any actual proof of it, but it's practically a no-brainer. it's such an unbearably human trait, after all, and despite his deepest desires, there's still no heart to beat in his chest. how could he ever feel ticklish, of all things?

besides, it's not like anyone would want to tickle him. he's brash and blunt and rude and so distant. the only person he could consider himself close to anymore would be lesser lord kusanali, and even then, she only keeps him just within arm's reach.

a part of him thinks about it more often than he'd like to admit, but he's resigned himself to the facts. he's not ticklish, and no one will ever try. end of story.

kazuha is, in every way, different from anyone he's ever met. it's only a little shocking when he asks if he could tickle scaramouche.

"i'm not ticklish," he responds without thinking, as if it's an instinct. "have you forgotten i'm not human?"

but kazuha only smiles at him, and it makes his chest tighten. if he had a heart, he's sure it would skip a beat, as they say.

"but you can still feel, can't you?" kazuha asks, and for the first time in hundreds of years, scaramouche begins to rethink. because if he can feel pain and cold and heat like humans do, then why wouldn't he be ticklish? it seems like such an obvious answer that scaramouche wants to punch himself.

he sighs, annoyed — at himself or kazuha, he can't tell. "if you want to try, be my guest." kazuha's delighted expression almost makes it all worth it.

as kazuha reaches out to him, a sudden, strange feeling washes over him. it's almost like he's nervous, but for what? tickling? how ridiculous. he's not afraid of something so harmless. he spent his fatui years poked and prodded and absolutely tortured by dottore. touch doesn't affect him anymore.

and then kazuha's fingers make contact, and. oh.

scaramouche knows what a shock of electricity feels like — it hurts. somehow, this is different.

he clenches his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut, trying desperately not to move away, because he is not giving in so easily. "kaedehara!" he chokes out, all four syllables through gritted teeth. the more he tries holding back, the more he can feel his face growing hotter. it's unbearable.

kazuha laughs, the most gorgeous sound in the world, as he pulls his hands back. "you are ticklish, then. that's good to know."

scaramouche grumbles to himself, turning away. "what, do you not think i can take more than that?"

"is that a challenge, scaramouche?"

kazuha's hands reach out to rest on his hips, causing him to tense. "this tends to be a very sensitive spot on people. are you sure?"

scaramouche rolls his eyes. "whatever."

this time, it takes practically nothing to break him. he finds he doesn't mind all that much.

[tklpilled]

iris

“i went to windrise to paint today,” albedo muses. he thinks back to earlier that day, trying to recall the details. “that big tree with a statue in front of it. it’s really quite beautiful, and you get an amazing view of mondstadt from there. i’m not sure how to explain it, but something about it feels almost spiritual.”

albedo has traveled across mondstadt, and other parts of teyvat as well, and he’s never found an area that feels quite like windrise. not only is the view unmatched, but he always feels as if someone is watching him—not to threaten him, but rather, to protect him.

“the bard was there—venti, I believe? he kept me company. his songs are incredible, and i noticed many more crystalflies than usual. i think they were drawn to his music.”

he glances over to his stand, where a painting of the area sits. while sitting under the tree would be relaxing, he wanted to capture it in the painting. so, instead, he sat facing mondstadt, and painted the tree on the side with its branches stretching across the canvas, almost blocking the sky entirely. the walls of mondstadt are in the distance, across the lake sparkling in the sun. If albedo had to judge it, he’d say that the painting is rather accurate; but of course, it can never compare to the real thing.

“i do wish you had been there, though,” he says, continuing on with his one-sided conversation. “i could use some practice painting people, but then again, i don't think i could do you justice. not even a kamera captures your beauty.”

he looks down at his lap, unable to hide his fond tone. “what do you think?”

a wail is the only response he gets.

albedo sighs, drumming his fingers impatiently. “it’s rude to ignore someone when they’re talking to you, you know.”

scaramouche lets out another squeal, his head thrown back in helpless laughter. “i c-cahahan’t!”

albedo swirls his fingertip around the center of scaramouche’s stomach, just circling the rim of his navel. it’s sending the poor puppet into hysterics—but as long as he still has the energy to kick his legs so frantically, albedo is sure he can last a little longer.

“but you’re talking to me now, aren’t you?” albedo asks, tilting his head. “i’m just trying to tell you how pretty you are, and you won’t even listen. i’m hurt.”

scaramouche bats weakly at albedo’s hand, though he’s clearly not trying hard. “shuhuhut uhup!” he squeaks, arching his back, and although his face is already red with laughter, albedo swears it gets worse.

he wishes he had his art materials with him. he’d love to paint scaramouche’s laughing face, capturing it in time for him to look at whenever. he can already imagine the colours he’d use, the pink hues contrasting so sharply with the cool, earthy background, the freckles scattered across his face, the way his eyes squint shut. the one problem is that sounds can’t be transferred to visuals—if he could, albedo would gladly paint scaramouche’s laughter onto a canvas forever. or maybe he could use scaramouche’s body itself as a surface; it’s a work of art on its own, after all. albedo often imagines himself drawing on it, creating constellations with his scars.

he’s abruptly yanked from his thoughts by a sudden loud whine. he glances down, realising the problem. his finger has dipped into scaramouche’s navel, a spot he hadn’t even known was so sensitive.

he chuckles. “i always discover new spots every time. i’m convinced you’re ticklish everywhere.”

scaramouche snorts, grabbing albedo’s wrist and holding on tightly. “sh-shuhut the fuhuhuck uhup! i swehehear, i’ll…!” whatever else he was going to say is lost to frantic giggling.

ah, well. albedo knows it wouldn’t have been a genuine threat anyway.

[tklpilled]

kurapika rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm before laying his head on his desk with a thunk. his back is sore. he's been sitting in one place too long. he's been feeling lighter lately, though, and he tries not to think about it as a burst of energy before he completely falls apart. although...energy might be a strong word for how he's feeling now.

he closes his eyes, swearing he's only resting them, that he won't fall asleep, but he knows it's a lie. he doesn't want to move anywhere more comfortable, though. if he did, it would mean giving in to his exhaustion.

there's a sudden feeling at his waist, soft and fuzzy, almost like a stray hair or bug. he picks his head up, looking down to brush it off, when the sensation suddenly multiplies.

and it fucking tickles.

it's stupid. he hates how helpless he is to stop the giggles erupting from his lips, despite his attempts to clamp his mouth shut. kurapika curls in on himself as best he can at his tiny desk. he doesn't know what's causing it, but he needs it to stop.

it seems to target all his weak spots, places even he hadn't known were so ticklish. he can't even remember the last time he was tickled, though he knows it's been at least a few years, before—

there's a feeling like a jolt down his spine and he snaps up straight with an embarrassing eep! sound. he squirms in his chair to deter this weird, invisible force. his cheeks hurt from smiling so much. it's awful.

he actually snorts when he feels something at the backs of his knees, doubling over and cackling into his sleeves. he doesn't think he's ever laughed this much in his life.

"i—ehe, stohop," he pleads to the empty room, squeezing his eyes shut like that will make it stop. there are invisible nails crawling over all his sensitive spots and it's driving him insane and he hates it and...

it's fun.

childish and stupid and humiliating, yes, but fun. he feels his tiredness slipping away just a little with each swipe of a non-existent finger. there's something almost freeing about this, the way he's openly laughing without worry. he can barely think about anything but the electrical sensations wracking his body, and he likes that.

so, since he can't sense any malicious intent...he'll let it be.

[tklpilled]

okay COOL

on that note if you wanted to write a lee!furina drabble u totally should!

the knave, on first glance, is not one to be interested in childish activities like tickling. those who know her well will confirm — she is not that type of person.

so, then, furina finds herself wondering — how did she end up here?

"p-please," she gasps, pressing her back against the wall, her mind occupied by nothing but get away, get away, get away.

arlecchino makes a hm, hands crawling up furina's sides, calculated and so horribly ticklish. "please what, my lady?"

furina wails, turning her head to the side so she won't have to see just how calm arlecchino looks. "stohohop!"

"oh, i would," says arlecchino, lying through her teeth. "but, see, i'm actually rather enjoying this. and you are too, aren't you, lady furina?"

"a-ahabsurd!" furina cries, knees buckling as she slides down the wall to the ground, arlecchino following her the whole way. her cheeks grow redder than they already were, and she uselessly hopes that it will go unnoticed, though she knows full well that it won't. "thihis is ahahawful! st-stohop it, i demahahand ihit—!"

the last part of her sentence merges with a squeal, embarrassingly high-pitched. her back arches, desperate to escape the torturous nails clawing at her upper ribs.

"perhaps," arlecchino says, "if you beg a little more."

[tklpilled]

aether’s never been on a proper date before. honestly, he’s never even had a partner before, or…whatever he and xiao are. he thinks it’s normal to be nervous, but he doesn’t want to be. he knows xiao. it’s not like this is a first meeting or anything, right? just a normal dinner together. with romantic feelings attached.

after kicking paimon out and leaving her for itto to babysit (which really just means shinobu is babysitting them both), he began cooking. he spent the entire day before stressing over the decorations in his teapot home, wondering whether xiao would like them, and while he’s still uncertain, there’s not much more he can do. he prepares practically an entire feast—grilled tiger fish, adeptus’ temptation, jade parcels, stir fry, and of course he tries his hand at almond tofu—anything he can think of that xiao might like. so, maybe it’s a bit of an overkill, but at least paimon will eat all the leftovers.

xiao arrives at their planned meeting spot exactly on time, not a second early, not a second late. aether perks up as soon as the familiar dark mist appears in front of him.

“you’re here!” he exclaims, jumping to his feet.

“did you think i wouldn’t be?” asks xiao, quirking an eyebrow.

aether invites him into his teapot, where the sun sets over a table for two, surrounded by a variety of trees and flowers. he’s lit candles around the area, giving it a welcoming ambience.

“oh, unless you’d rather be inside!” aether quickly adds, gestures towards the mansion.

he thinks he sees a tiny smile appear on xiao’s face. “this is fine.”

…so.

ugh, aether should have practiced for this.

they eat without saying much, aside from xiao thanking him for the food with the occasional compliment, in his own xiao-like way. it's somehow not overwhelmingly awkward—which isn't to say it's not awkward, but it's tolerable.

as he finishes his food, aether's mind starts to wander. he hasn't planned anything aside from this. will xiao leave right away? will he stay to talk? probably not, he's not exactly social, but aether can't think of anything to say and he absolutely can not have them sitting in complete silence for the rest of the night.

there's a squeeze on his knee and he yelps, kicking his leg out and accidentally banging it on the underside of the table. he looks up, embarrassed.

xiao keeps his hand where it is. “stop doing that,” he says, nodding at aether's leg. it's only then that aether notices just how violently he's been bouncing it.

“o-oh,” he stammers, nodding. “sorry.”

he expects that to be the end of it, but xiao gives him a curious look. he doesn't have time to question what it means before he feels another squeeze. his reaction this time isn't as dramatic, but it's still noticeable; he makes a surprised sound, his leg jerking once more.

“what’s wrong?” asks xiao, leaning in close, which makes aether squeak and nearly fall off his chair. “you aren’t injured, are you?”

aether shakes his head frantically. “n-no, not that, it’s just ticklish! nothing bad, you don’t have to—ack?!”

“i’m familiar with the term, i believe,” says xiao, looking down at his hand, which has just squeezed again. “it’s something humans do with those they’re fond of, yes?”

“um.” aether can’t do much but stare at him, cheeks growing hotter by the second. he thinks he knows where this is going. finally, he nods. “y-yes, that’s right.”

“then, traveler,” xiao looks up, locking eyes with him, “why don’t we do it?”

well, aether has a hard time saying no to that face.

they end up inside the mansion, in the farthest room from the entrance. no one else is around, but xiao locks the door behind them anyway. aether almost feels trapped, but he doesn’t hate it.

“so,” xiao starts, once he’s straddling aether’s waist on the bed. “i simply…squeeze?” he accompanies his words with a pinch to aether’s side.

the blond flinches. “w-well, it’s hard to explain…certain spots are more sensitive to certain methods.” he feels uncomfortable and embarrassed explaining tickling of all things, but xiao listens intently and nods.

“i see,” he says. “such as what?”

“um, well,” aether starts, shifting a little. “like this?” he reaches out and places a hand on xiao’s side, skittering his fingers up to his ribs.

xiao stiffens, eyes widening slightly. “right,” he says, his voice a little shaky.

“or like this.” aether starts to poke his fingers in the spaces between ribs, but his wrist is pulled away.

“i understand,” xiao insists, cheeks flushed a little. aether can’t help but laugh at the sight of someone so composed in such a state.

xiao, to be frank, isn’t great at tickling. he’s inexperienced and hesitant, but aether is ticklish enough to make up for it. 

“if you’re so ticklish, why do you leave your stomach exposed?” xiao asks, tracing his fingers along the bare skin. he’s getting better as he goes, seemingly fuelled by aether’s reactions.

“i-it’s nohohot like i’m ahasking for ihihit!” aether protests, trying his hardest to keep his hands out of the way. xiao hasn’t restrained them, but he doesn’t want to make it stop just yet. maybe he’s having a little bit of fun. sue him.

“you clearly enjoy it, at least.” xiao isn’t looking at aether’s face, more focused on what his hands are doing. “you’re letting me do this.”

“th-thahahat—xiahahahao!” aether squeals as a finger pokes his navel experimentally, before going back to dancing along his tummy. “thahat’s because ihihit’s yohou!” he feels himself blushing as he admits it. he’s glad that at least xiao doesn’t have much shame.

“i think it’s…rather cute,” xiao admits. “i enjoy hearing you laugh.”

aether makes an embarrassed whining sound. “l-lehehet me tickle yohou next tihihime! it’s ohonly fahair!” he's not sure what it is — a threat? a challenge? either way, he plans to tickle xiao one way or another, no matter how much the adeptus insists that he's not ticklish.

he can't worry about it now, though, because xiao has just figured out that light touches work wonders, and it's absolutely awful. with anyone else, it's torture — but with xiao, somehow, it feels like love.

[tklpilled]

at this point, aether is used to being a test subject. he came to teyvat to find his sister, yet now he’s going to leave an unwilling hero and guinea pig—and, by the looks of it, still sisterless.

he can’t count how many times he’s gone through lisa asking him to try a new spell, or charlotte telling him to stand still so she can work on her photography, or lyney practicing a magic trick he’s just come up with. he doesn’t mind it, really, not that much—it’s better than trying to fix all the archons’ problems for them.

(he’s still hoping for diluc to join the ‘ask-aether-to-try-every-new-thing’ club, but considering everyone thinks he’s a teenager and not thousands of years old, he doesn’t think he’ll be doing a wine tasting any time soon.)

point is, this whole thing isn’t just because of his own stupidity. he made a very understandable assumption, alright?

“come here,” albedo says, writing down some notes. “i want you to try this elixir out for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

aether nods, although albedo can’t see it with his head bent down. he walks over to the table and sees two bottles, both filled about halfway. on the right is a pale green, glistening substance, and the bottle on the left contains a much more appetising blue-purple liquid. albedo doesn’t look up from his notes, so aether takes a fifty-fifty chance and picks up the left bottle. he downs it in one go.

albedo looks up, then tilts his head. “that wasn’t the right one.”

oh.

if paimon were here, she’d panic and begin asking every question she could think of—but she’s not here, and aether doesn’t know how to panic for himself. so, all he says is, “am i going to die?”

“no,” albedo says, sounding a little amused at how flat his voice is. “but—”

“will i be in pain?”

“no.”

aether shrugs. “alright then. i don’t see a prob—lehem!”

his hands shoot up to cover his mouth, his eyes widening as a sudden sensation washes over him. albedo looks on with a mixture of pity and curiosity as he sinks to his knees. “maybe i should have warned you better…”

aether curls in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle now instead of his mouth. “m-mahahake it stohohop!” he pleads, scrunching up his shoulders to protect from invisible, non-existent hands.

albedo kneels down beside him, admiring the grin adorning his face. he’s never heard aether laugh quite so freely before, and it’s very endearing. he finds himself staring for longer than he had intended. aether is the one being tickled, yet albedo is the one blushing—that doesn’t make any sense.

“in my experience, it stops after a short while,” albedo finally says, blinking away from aether’s incredibly pretty face, “although i took a much smaller dose than you. i’d estimate ten minutes at most.”

“t-tehehen?” aether squeaks. “i cahan’t—too muhuhuch!”

albedo can’t help but smile. aether’s laugh is far too contagious. “calm down, you’ll get used to it soon enough. it won’t feel nearly as bad in a couple minutes.”

despite his words, aether whines through helpless laughter, although he keeps any more complaints he may have to himself. from what albedo had experienced, the tickling wasn’t intense at all; merely a step beyond tingling, just enough to make one laugh. for someone as ticklish as aether, he supposes it might be a bit worse, but the overall outcome should be mostly the same.

“it was supposed to be a strength enhancer,” albedo says, carrying the conversation while aether is too busy cackling beside him. “it still is, technically. it just has some…very strong side effects. i’m sure if you could manage to stand, you’d find yourself a bit better with that sword of yours.”

“plehehease,” aether begs. “mahahake it stohohohop…!”

“hm.” albedo reaches around him to scratch at his side, sending him scrambling away with a shriek.

“i hahate yohou!” he wails, then returns his arms around his waist protectively and kicks against the floor a little. “yohou’re cruhuhuel!”

“i could leave you here until it's over,” albedo suggests, making aether frantically shake his head. “maybe even make some more for you.”

“y-yohou wohouldn’t!” aether cries, although they both know he absolutely would. 

albedo pokes a spot on his tummy that his arms fail to cover up. “if you say so.”

[tklpilled]

thinking about ticklish xiao

aether tries tickling him once, but for someone who has lived through so much, xiao has no clue what they're trying to do. all he knows is that he wants to get away, and the only thing he associates that with in his mind is danger. aether, upon being faced with the tip of xiao's spear, sheepishly explains what they were actually trying to do; it's fun, they say, a sort of game with someone you care about.

(it's the last part that gets him, makes him reluctantly give in and let them try again.)

it lasts longer this time, long enough for it to properly register throughout his brain and body, and all xiao can think is that it's absolute torture. he hates giving up control, but in this state, he feels his strength being sapped away and replaced with the strangest urge.

the vigilant yaksha, conquerer of demons, does not giggle — yet here he is, biting his tongue and desperately focusing on keeping a blank face. he tries, but aether is so close, and their hands are touching skin that has known nothing but pain for hundreds of years. they're touching him so gently, and xiao can handle lots of things, but whatever this is isn't one of them.

when aether touches his stomach, so agonisingly soft, xiao makes a sound that may be a squeak, or maybe a yelp — either way, everything crumbles. xiao can't take it any longer, panicked giggles pouring from unwilling lips, his unfamiliar smile making his cheeks hurt.

what is this, he tries to ask, and for a moment he doesn't think any of it came out coherently; until aether laughs, teases him for being so ticklish, and after a pause, points out how red his face has gotten.

it's torture, he hates it, but even so he can't bring himself to get away. he could, he knows he could, even if it would be more difficult than usual. something about how playful it is reminds him of four long-forgotten faces, causing an ache in his chest. it's all so much, too much.

but still, he stays.

[tklpilled]

lullabies

freminet often feels detached from the world.

it’s all he knows how to be. in the house of the hearth, there’s no room for error. he has to be strong. he can’t have any weaknesses.

(he does. he has lots of them. he cries when it rains sometimes, he freezes under extreme pressure. he’s just a pathetic child, deep down.)

so he’s built up walls, so many, too many for even him to count, and even if someone, somehow, manages to break through one, they aren’t even close to knowing him. he likes it that way. he hates when attention is on him. he doesn’t want to be known.

(yes he does. he’s so, so lonely.)

he’s not weak. how can he be, with so much protection?

(he whispers those words to himself late at night, trying to convince whoever may be listening.)

but when he’s underwater, things feel a little less overwhelming. he can forget about it all, even if just for a few minutes. the creatures down there don’t want to hurt him. they aren’t going to abandon him.

(and yet father is still here, and lyney and lynette. he’s slowly starting to wonder if, maybe, they mean it when they say they’ll stay. after all, they’ve gotten past most of his meticulously crafted walls. someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t spend all that effort on him, would they?)

freminet is on the couch one gloomy day, watching pers toddle around the room, when lyney suddenly sits beside him, throwing his arms around his shoulders.

“what’s wrong, dear freminet?” is all he asks. 

freminet hums, closing his eyes. he feels himself beginning to lean into the touch, but he quickly stops himself. “…i’m fine,” he says.

lyney sighs. “come on, there’s no use lying. i can see right through you.”

“nothing’s wrong.” it’s mostly true. it’s not that nothing is wrong, it’s just that he doesn’t know what’s wrong. he gets days like this a lot.

“cheer up,” lyney says with a poke to his side, seemingly realising he won’t get any answers. freminet flinches, tensing up. “oh?”

freminet blinks up at his older brother, confused. lyney pokes him again, as if that explains anything. freminet jumps again.

ah. he sees where this is going.

“freminet,” lyney starts, a smile growing on his face. “are you ticklish?”

“no,” answers freminet immediately.

more fingers start prodding at his sides, making freminet squirm almost uncomfortably. “are you sure—”

“i’m not ticklish,” freminet says, a bit more forcefully than he had intended, then shrinks in on himself.

lyney blinks. “o-oh,” he says, and despite the situation, freminet feels a twinge of pride at knowing he’s managed to make lyney stutter. “my apologies, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

freminet stares down at his hands in his lap. “i’m not weak,” he mumbles, not looking up.

“hm?” lyney tilts his head, as though he hadn’t heard correctly.

freminet squeezes his eyes shut. “it’s a weakness. i…don’t like it. i’m not weak.”

he knows it’s a silly thing to say, especially knowing that lyney himself is ticklish, too. the difference, though, is that lyney is so much stronger, it hardly has any effect on his skill. but freminet…

he’s not strong enough. he can’t afford something as childish as being ticklish.

(he feels even more embarrassed about it knowing that this is lyney, the same person who has read him fairytales and acted out sappy bedtime stories for him; things that are arguably more childish.)

ugh. he wants to put his diving helmet on and hide for days.

“freminet,” lyney begins, sounding a bit amused. it only makes freminet want to hide even more. “being ticklish doesn’t make you weak. it’s fun, between people who care about each other.”

freminet knows he’s right, but still…

“i won’t tickle you if you don’t want me to,” lyney continues, “but please, don’t say things like that. you’re not weak, alright?”

freminet is quiet for a long time. lyney stays put the whole time.

“…is it really fun?” freminet asks finally, in such a tiny voice that he’s surprised lyney can understand it.

his brother laughs. “i suppose, for some people. it depends who you ask, i guess.”

freminet thinks to when he was younger—to when his mother would tickle him on occasion, to when he would watch his friends get into tickle fights and how he would smile along with them even though they weren’t touching him. he thinks about watching lyney and lynette tickle each other, and suddenly the gloominess in his chest is replaced by longing, so strong it’s almost painful.

“okay,” he whispers. “you can. tickle me. if you want.”

he regrets those words as soon as they leave his mouth—what if lyney doesn’t want to? what if he just laughs and walks away? what if—

all his worries are cut off by fingers crawling across his stomach over his shirt, and he doesn’t have time to think before he’s choking back giggles.

“it’s okay,” lyney teases. “you can laugh.”

so he does. it’s been so long that freminet himself forgot what it sounded like. he squeaks as lyney’s hand travels along his stomach, then suddenly dances along his sides up to his ribs, making him burst into a fit of proper laughter. 

lyney coos. “i can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time! you really do need to laugh more, freminet, it’s so cute.”

“b-behe quihihiet,” freminet whines, covering his blushing face with his hands. he squirms, moving closer to lyney as he does. “wait, wahahait, wait!”

lyney stops, one hand resting on his side and the other on his ribs. “yes?”

“ihit tickles,” freminet chokes out.

“do you want me to stop?” lyney’s fingertips press into his skin gently, making him squeal.

still…

“…no.”

for the first time in a long time, freminet feels like he’s in his own body again.

[tklpilled]

alhaitham who gets strangely flustered when someone says he's ticklish. not the word itself. only when it's used to describe him.

it's...very uncharacteristic. it goes against his whole thing; he's based on logic and reasoning and facts, and the facts are that he is, unfortunately, stupidly ticklish. but when kaveh mocks him, teases him for it, he can't help but feel that horrible heat rising to his cheeks and prickling at the back of his neck.

any other word is fine. he's sensitive. he's...very susceptible to that sort of touch. but he's not ticklish, because that word is awful and terrible and should be erased from the world, and when kaveh first found out about it alhaitham should have gone to lesser lord herself and asked her to wipe it from irminsul's memory.

because when kaveh finds out, it's never just kaveh. it's cyno and tighnari and sometimes collei and the traveler, and all that means is that whenever they're together and they've all probably had a bit too much (the adults, that is) (although alhaitham is sure they'd pull a similar stunt while sober), and alhaitham gets roped into another game of genius invocation, they start to scheme against him.

he stares at his cards, then at cyno's, trying to figure out the best combination of moves to win, and then as soon as he reaches his hand towards his deck, fingers scribble at his sides and he yelps and shrinks in on himself.

and cyno laughs at him. "what's wrong? are you a bit ticklish?"

and there's that fucking word again that almost makes alhaitham walk out the door right there, the only thing stopping him being that he knows they'd follow him wherever he goes. all he can do is pull his deck closer and press his arms against himself and pray fruitlessly that they'll at least go easy on him.

[tklpilled]

kaeya knows the things people say about them. most of them were there when it happened, when kaeya was left all alone and decided to drink his problems away. he knows they pity him. he's heard all the rumours.

"it has been a long time since he last called diluc ragnvindr 'brother'", they say, but the truth is quite the opposite.

it has been a long time since diluc last called kaeya alberich "brother."

their relationship is strained at best, but at the very least it's not as bad as it was. at least diluc isn't avoiding him anymore. at least diluc is there.

if one were to ask kaeya what they were, he would answer by saying that they're siblings. if one were to ask diluc, he'd say that it's complicated, and that is the difference between the two.

but kaeya is nothing but stubborn, and he has faith in the fact that diluc, behind all the walls he's put up, has a rather soft heart. so he visits the angel's share when he knows diluc is working, and he drinks and he talks and he drinks some more, and little by little he can tell that it's working. they've even managed to drop the formalities.

"enough," diluc says, sliding the glass back to his side of the counter. kaeya whines like a little child, reaching after it. "you've had enough," diluc repeats with a stern look.

"you underestimate me," kaeya says with a crooked smile. "my tolerance for alcohol is high."

diluc scoffs. "but my tolerance for you isn't. we're closing soon, anyway. you should be leaving."

kaeya groans. "you're so cruel to me, making me walk all that way by myself in the dark. what if i'm kidnapped."

"they would get tired of you and release you soon enough," diluc responds with a deadpan face. "out."

this isn't the first time this has happened, where kaeya has stayed late and diluc ordered him to leave before closing. but kaeya has obeyed every time, and the thought lingers now; if he refused to go, would diluc just leave him?

his answer comes half an hour later, when diluc is finished wiping down tables. he sighs as he looks at kaeya, still slumped over the counter. kaeya stares back, grinning, waiting.

diluc looks away first. "come on." he grabs kaeya by the arm and begins to drag him towards the exit. kaeya goes along with it. they make it to the city gates when he realises.

anxiety creeps into the pit of his stomach. he hasn't been to the winery in ages.

"how kind of you to walk me home," he says, trying to distract himself. he doesn't linger on that last word.

diluc doesn't answer. the walk is mostly silent, and the nervousness in kaeya's chest only grows as they get closer. he wonders if it's changed. he wonders if he'll remember enough to notice if it has.

adelinde greets them at the door, her eyes widening in surprise. "master kaeya!" she gasps, a mixture of shock and delight in her voice. "is everything alright?"

she steps aside to let them in. "it's fine," diluc assures her. kaeya waves, making her smile. "he'll just be staying the night."

"hey! you can't make these decisions for me!" kaeya protests.

"you're perfectly capable of walking back, if you'd like," diluc retorts, knowing damn well that kaeya is too tired and too drunk to do anything even if he wanted to.

kaeya shuts up.

his old room is still intact, but adelinde insists that she hasn't cleaned it in a while, and it's too dusty for him to stay in.

so.

he ends up in diluc's room.

"why did you take me here?" kaeya asks into the darkness, staring at the outline of the ceiling. it's a question he already knows the answer to.

diluc is quiet for a long moment. "did you not want me to?"

he doesn't reply.

"it's late. you were more intoxicated than usual," diluc continues. "…i missed you."

kaeya's heart nearly stops.

surely he's dreaming. surely this isn't real.

"kaeya?"

"you missed me," he says, dumbfounded.

"yes," diluc says quietly.

there's a moment of silence before kaeya laughs, rolling over to throw his arms around his brother. diluc makes a strangled sort of sound, squirming. "i knew you had a soft spot for me!" he exclaims gleefully.

"g-get off!" diluc demands, and though kaeya can't see it, something tells him that he's blushing.

“oh, don’t be like that,” he teases. “i know you—oh?” the last bit is in response to the way diluc suddenly jolts, his mouth clamping shut. “still ticklish, are you?”

“kaeya,” the man beside him warns, but it’s too late; kaeya is already drumming his fingers over his skin, muscle memory from his childhood flooding back into his head. “k-kahahaeya!”

“i forgot you were still capable of laughing,” kaeya grins along with him. “truly a miracle.”

diluc kicks him lightly under the blankets, shoving at the knight’s hands without any real meaning behind it. kaeya knows better than to say that he likes being tickled, but he’ll at least tolerate it if he trusts the person.

which—

oh.

kaeya blinks tears out of his eye and focuses on diluc.

he’s not being rough at all, just gentle in a way that he knows drives diluc insane. “y-yohou say i’m the mehehean one,” he giggles. “yet hehehere you are, tohormenting mehe…” archons, kaeya forgot just how dramatic he is.

“oh, hush.” kaeya digs in a little harder, only for a second, enough to make diluc yelp. “torment?”

diluc nods, his giggling sounding a little happier, more playful. “betrahayed by my ohohown brohother,” he manages, and kaeya is so distracted by their banter that he almost doesn’t notice that last word.

he never wants to wake up from this dream.

[tklpilled]

PROMPTS ARE OPEN wait im so late aa anyways can we have some lee albedo or scra plsplspls ksfhkg :)

"kaeya," albedo whispers, hand pressed against his mouth to muffle himself.

kaeya chuckles, a low sound that sends shivers down albedo's back. "hm?"

"not here," the alchemist mumbles, heat rushing to his face. he's all too aware of how close they are, how if he leans in just a little more—

"oh? what do you think i'm going to do?" kaeya is smirking, pressing albedo against the wall, and there's so much room but they're so close.

"sir kaeya," albedo says, taking a breath in a futile attempt at calming himself. "i suggest we—ah!"

his eyes widen as gloved hands slip underneath his shirt, scratching at his lower stomach. he bites his tongue after his initial noise of surprise, though it does nothing to cover the wobbly smile from forming.

kaeya laughs quietly, teasingly. "sorry, were you thinking i was planning something else? i apologise for getting your hopes up."

albedo holds back a retort, focused instead on not laughing, which is getting harder and harder by the second as kaeya explores all the ticklish spots he knows by heart.

all he can do is hope none of the other knights find them.

[tklpilled]

this close, aether can see the tiny freckles that dot across scaramouche’s cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. they’re made even more prominent by the pale shade of pink that dusts across scaramouche’s face. he looks beautiful, even with the way he’s giving aether a glare that would have any other person trembling.

“scara,” aether says.

“don’t call me that.”

“mouchie?”

“ugh. even worse.”

aether giggles. “so, scara, i think,” he says, ignoring scaramouche's grumbles of complaint, “you owe me an apology.”

scaramouche rolls his eyes. “what for?”

“lying to me.”

“i didn’t lie.”

aether scoffs, shifts a little so he’s pinning scaramouche’s wrists down with one hand, leaving his other hand free. he uses it to prod gently at scaramouche’s stomach. “are you sure?”

he actually manages to keep a straight face. “yes.”

but of course, aether doesn’t buy it. “really? because,” he continues his poking, and scaramouche isn’t that easy to break but it’s getting more difficult by the second, “i think you’re actually very ticklish.”

he doesn’t even give scaramouche a chance to respond before clawing at his tummy, and scaramouche can’t help but burst into laughter. bubbly, bright, sickeningly sweet laughter that doesn’t fit him at all, but the traveler is cooing over him anyway. 

“scaramouche,” aether practically sings, sending butterflies straight to his insides and making him laugh louder, blush brighter, squirm harder.

“w-wahahahaha—wait, stop! stop it, plehehease, aether—!”

“are you going to tell the truth?”

“it—ahaha, it is the truhuhuth! i’m not tihihicklihish!” scaramouche kicks with such force that it almost throws aether off of him. the blond pauses for a moment, laughing, and then goes right back to tickling before scaramouche can start to enjoy his little break.

“just say it!” aether encourages, fingers dancing along scaramouche’s skin like they were created with that sole purpose in mind. “c’mon, you can’t keep denying it forever.”

“w-wihihill you stohop if i—i-ihihif i say ihit?” scaramouche gasps, taking in as much air as he can while aether is more focused on his words than the tickling.

“no,” aether answers truthfully, “but i’ll at least be nicer to you.”

scaramouche squeals as aether returns his focus to tickling. “i—fihihine! i’m fuhucking tihihicklish, stop! stop ihihit!”

aether giggles. “i can tell.”

“shuhut up!” at this, aether scoffs playfully before releasing scaramouche’s wrists. he grins mischievously before both of his hands go to knead at his hips. the shriek that scaramouche lets out is nothing short of undignified. 

“fuhuhuck! y-yohou—stohohohop! you said you’d be nihihice!” he wails, trying to grab aether's wrists to stop him.

“did i?” asks aether, humming. “i don't remember.”

“yohou bastard!”