Alina 📖✍🏻

| She\Her | 24 | 🇧🇷 | Tickle Blog | https://www.spiritfanfiction.com/perfil/Alinatk https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alinatk/works

[alinatk]

📌 Introduction

Hi, I'm Alina.

I've been posting more here lately, so I decided to introduce myself a bit.

I'm an adult Brazilian woman and writer focused on Tickling, more specifically, Male Tickling. I write both anime and original stories, but I much prefer anime stories.

I "manage" 5 networks where I post and distribute my content, and here on Tumblr, I've chosen to share only my short stories, which are simpler stories where I consider most of the characters to be couples in more casual tickling moments. Except for two stories that I thought were interesting to bring here as well.

Don't be fooled, even though I write these stories in a fluffier tone, it's a fetish for me. That said, please, if you shere my posts, don't add the "sfw" tag or anything similar.

And if you like my writing and are interested in more intense and even explicit stories, consider visiting and checking out my profile on AO3 and DeviantArt. On these networks, especially AO3, I chose to share almost all of my stories, so you'll find a good variety.

If you're also Brazilian, consider visiting my profile on Spirit Fanfics, where I post everything in Portuguese. I'm also on Wattpad, but I don't like there, anyway.

I don't care if minors consume my content, I'm not anyone's babysitter. I'm not going to make a fuss or debate about this issue, everyone does what they think is best and minds their own business. However, don't contact me, we won't interact, regardless of the subject or the level/tone of the conversation, so I suggest you put your age in your bio if you want to talk to me. I won't respond to profiles without identification as a precaution.

Besides that, I don't mind chatting, so feel free to message me. I really appreciate receiving feedback on my stories and my writing, for example. Just please, don't be a jerk. I'm also NOT INTERESTED IN RP or any similar type of contact.

I don't accept commissions or requests per se, but I do accept ideas and suggestions, so feel free and invited to share them with me if you have any. If I know the anime, the characters, and like the dynamic and the idea, I can certainly write it. If not, I think we can still exchange some ideas.

I post two short stories per month, so that will be my posting frequency here until they run out. But, as I mentioned, I post other things on other networks as well, so I'm always active and becoming more so.

I won't be doing any Masterposts or Masterlists either, because I'm still starting out and only have a few posts, plus this blog is exclusively for sharing my content, so it will be easy to explore and search.

Another thing, I usually use some arts in my posts. They don't belong to me, I find them all on Pinterest and because of that, it's very difficult to know who the author really is. However, if it bothers any of them, just contact me and I'll remove it or give the proper credits. Most of the artwork doesn't have any signature or brand, which makes it even more difficult.

Anyway, I think that's it. It was a pleasure 🤝🏻

[alinatk]

Hair Provocation (Sherliam)

Fandom: Moriarty The Patriot Characters: Sherlock Holmes | William James Moriarty Lee!Sherlock Ler!William Summary: In the rare quiet of Moriarty Manor, Sherlock wages an unexpected battle against his own hair. What should have been just a simple helping hand from William quickly turns into a dangerous game of subtle teasing, involuntary laughter, and calculatedly gentle touches. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, Ifound it on Pinterest and I don't know who the autor is)

The house was quiet. Too quiet, considering Sherlock Holmes lived there.

Quiet always meant two things: either Sherlock was concentrating on something dangerous, or he was about to get annoyed. At the moment, the second option seemed more likely, especially since he was waging a battle, sitting on the floor in front of the mirror.

"This is absurd" He muttered, pulling the brush too hard. His hair, naturally, wasn't cooperating. The rebellious blue strands insisted on pointing in opposite directions, as if they had collectively decided to test his patience. Sherlock frowned, tried again, and the brush got tangled in the strands. "Ah, great. Excellent. Wonderful" He grumbled, frustrated.

On the other side of the room, William appeared leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, observing the scene with an expression that wasn't quite a smile, but was close. Sherlock, disheveled, slightly annoyed, and completely concentrated was... adorable. William didn't usually say this aloud, but he thought it often. "Are you fighting with an inanimate object again?" He commented gently.

"He started it" Sherlock replied, too serious for the situation. "Look at this, it's clearly resisting"

William chuckled softly and approached. "Can I help?"

Sherlock stared at him in the mirror's reflection, assessing him as he always did. Then he shrugged. "Do better than me and you're forgiven for existing today"

"How generous" William replied, picking up the brush. He positioned himself behind Sherlock, his fingers replacing the other's impatient haste with slow movements. Before the brush touched the hair, William ran his fingers through the strands, separating them with almost affectionate care.

Sherlock let out a low sound, half surprise, half approval. "Hm"

William then began to comb slowly, precisely, but his fingers continued to help, lightly brushing the scalp. Unintentionally, or perhaps intentionally, they slid a little lower, along the nape of his neck.

Sherlock shivered instantly. "Hey! Liam..." He flinched, his shoulders rising.

"Sorry" Said William, in a tone that definitely didn't sound remorseful.

Sherlock tried to pull away but gave up, standing still, clearly torn between complaining and appreciating it. "That... tickled"

"I noticed, it was unintentional"

William found the reaction deliciously revealing. The great Sherlock Holmes, who confronted crimes and dangers, was now there, quiet, shivering at a simple touch. He continued, a little more attentive, but not enough to prevent his fingers from occasionally touching the nape of his neck on purpose again.

"Liam..." Sherlock murmured, already laughing, trying to maintain his composure. "If this is some kind of psychological experiment..."

"It's just empirical observation" William replied. "You react predictably"

"Hahaha!" Sherlock laughed suddenly, flinching as his fingers brushed against her again. "Predictable nothing!"

William finished combing calmly. The hair now fell neatly, as neatly as possible. He then gently pushed a few strands forward, tilting Sherlock's head to show the result. "Done"

But as he did so, his fingers slid again, now along the sides of his neck. Deliberately. "Liam!" Sherlock laughed again. "Hahahaha! I knew it!" He tried to dodge, his shoulders rising as he flinched. "You did it on purpose!"

"I did" William admitted, finally smiling genuinely, his fingers teasing once more. "Definitely"

"Hahahahaha, stop it!" Sherlock chuckled, half-breathless, not really trying to escape. "That's cheating!"

"There's no cheating between people who know each other so well" William said, leaning a little closer. "Just strategic intimacy"

Sherlock took a deep breath, still laughing, leaning against him. "You're terrible"

"And you love it" He replied softly, making him chuckle again. William watched as Sherlock caught his breath, still with that smile too wide for someone who had just been attacked.

"Terrible" Sherlock repeated. "Absolutely terrible"

William tilted his head, as if reconsidering an important decision. "In that case..." He began calmly. "Perhaps I should embrace my role as the villain"

Sherlock managed to reason for only half a second, then felt William's fingers return to the sides of his neck with cruel precision. "Liam!" He flinched immediately. "Hahahahaha no, no!" He said, trying to pull away, but ended up only bending forward, his shoulders rising as he laughed too hard to maintain any dignity. "This is abuse!"

"I disagree" William replied, perfectly composed, as his fingers moved again. "It's a responsible use of acquired knowledge"

"Hahahahaha!" Sherlock squirmed, finally stretching his hands back, trying to blindly grab William's fingers. "S-Stohohohohop it!"

William chuckled softly as Sherlock managed to catch two of his fingers, squeezing them as if he'd solved a crime. "Impressive" He commented, without completely interrupting the attack, using his free hand for another short taunt. "But incomplete"

Sherlock practically doubled over. "That's—hahahahahaha! Unfair!" He ended up twisting his body slightly, still laughing, trying to grab both of William's hands now, resulting in a small chaos of movements, laughter, and poorly coordinated elbows.

William smiled, dodging, as he didn't abandon his movements, until Sherlock fell to the side, finally managing to grab both of his wrists.

"Alright, alright, I accept my defeat" Sherlock said, still laughing, panting, indeed defeated.

William watched him for a moment, tracing his thumb gently along his flushed cheek in a caress, then leaned in and kissed his forehead. "You look adorable like that, Sherly"

Sherlock blushed even more, looking away and turning his face slightly, almost pouting. "You rascal"

William chuckled, looking at him for a moment. Sherlock's hair was messy again, some strands sticking out, others falling over his eyes. "I see I'll have to redo the work"

"No," Sherlock replied immediately, still holding one of his wrists. "You lost the privilege of the brush"

William raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "And leave it like this?" He asked, using his other hand to brush the strands from his eyes, indicating his disheveled hair.

Sherlock tried to fix it with his own fingers, only making the situation worse. "Hm" He sighed. "Okay, but no tickling!" He said, pointing an accusing finger at him.

William picked up the brush again, with a smile too restrained to be trustworthy. "I promise to try"

Sherlock let out a disbelieving laugh. "That sentence alone invalidates the agreement.."

William began combing again, with the same patience as before, and for now, only for now, his fingers behaved. But the discreet smile on his lips said that this truce was temporary.

[alinatk]

The Mystery of Oreki's Laughter

Fandom: Hyouka Characters: Houtarou Oreki | Satoshi Fukube | Chitanda Eru Lee!Oreki Ler!Chitanda Ler!Satoshi Summary: Ancient mysteries? Family cases? None of that. This time, the Classics Club faces its toughest challenge yet: figuring out how to make Houtarou Oreki laugh. Between detailed observations, improbable theories, and surprise attacks coordinated by Chitanda and Satoshi, Oreki realizes too late that he has officially become the subject of the investigation. [Read also on Ao3]

The Classics Club room was bathed in that typical late afternoon calm. Soft light streamed through the windows, the air smelled faintly of old paper and… boredom, at least from Houtarou Oreki's point of view.

Oreki sat in his usual chair, his book open in his hands, his posture too relaxed for someone still awake. His eyes moved slowly across the lines, completely oblivious to the world around him.

On the other side of the table, Satoshi Fukube held and read a magazine. "Pfft…hahaha!" He tried to stifle a laugh with his hand. "This is too good!"

Curious as always, Eru Chitanda immediately leaned towards him, her eyes shining. "What is it, Fukube-san?" She asked, excitedly.

"Look at this" Satoshi turned the magazine towards her, pointing to an absurd situation depicted there.

Chitanda brought her hand to her mouth and laughed softly. "Ah! That's really funny!" She then turned her face almost reflexively to Oreki. "Oreki-san, look at this!"

He briefly raised his eyes to the magazine page but said nothing, quickly returning to his initial position.

Satoshi let out a dramatic sigh. "You didn't find it funny? Not at all?"

Oreki turned the page. "No, and laughing consumes energy. I don't see enough return on that investment"

"What a sad way to live" Satoshi commented, still smiling.

Chitanda tilted her head thoughtfully, observing Oreki with renewed attention. Her violet eyes seemed to analyze him as if he were a new mystery. "Oreki-san," She began slowly. "You never laugh, do you?"

"That's not true," He replied. "I laugh when necessary"

"And when would it be 'necessary' to justify your energy investment?" Satoshi teased.

"It hasn't happened yet"

Chitanda blinked a few times, surprised. "Fukube-san," She turned to Satoshi. "Have you ever seen Oreki-san laugh?"

Satoshi paused, thinking seriously for a few seconds, crossing his arms. "Hmmm..." He frowned. "Thinking about it, no. And we've been friends for quite a while now"

Chitanda's eyes widened slightly. "Not even a smile?"

"Nope. At most a tiny movement here" He pointed to the corner of his mouth. "But it might have just been my imagination"

Oreki sighed. "Stop talking about me as if I'm not here"

Chitanda's eyes shone brightly. "Oreki-san, now I'm very curious"

Oreki felt a slight shiver. "Oh no..."

"What does Oreki-san's laugh sound like?" Chitanda continued, completely engrossed in the idea. "Will it be discreet? Or unexpectedly beautiful? Perhaps low? Or—"

"Definitely low" Satoshi interrupted. "I imagine something like 'hm,' that's all"

"That's not even a laugh" Oreki murmured, too quietly.

Chitanda moved a little closer to the table, resting her hands on it as she leaned toward them both. "Fukube-san, don't you think we should try to find out?"

Satoshi grinned mischievously. "Make Houtarou laugh?" He put his hand to his chin. "That sounds interesting"

Oreki slowly closed the book. "Don't treat me like an experiment"

"It wouldn't be an experiment" Chitanda quickly corrected. "It would be an investigation!"

Satoshi snapped his fingers. "An investigation by the Classics Club! Objective: to provoke a genuine laugh from Houtarou Oreki!"

Oreki looked away towards the window. "What a waste of energy..." He sighed, as if they would soon abandon the idea.

But Satoshi and Chitanda remained silent for a few seconds. It was that dangerous kind of silence, the silence of when an idea was simmering in their minds.

Satoshi was the first to move. He took two slow steps around the table, observing Oreki as if he were a rare piece in a museum. "Hmmm..." He murmured. "If there's laughter, then there's a trigger"

Chitanda, in turn, approached from the other side, leaning slightly, hands behind her back, eyes attentive and bright, repeating the same murmur as her friend.

Oreki quickly realized they were surrounding him. "You two are too close" He leaned back in his chair, frowning slightly.

"Yes," Satoshi replied, leaning in a little more. "I call it scientific observation"

"Strange name for invasion of personal space" Oreki retorted, looking away.

Chitanda took another small step forward, too curious. Oreki blushed at the approach, then turned his attention back to Satoshi. "Satoshi..!"

"Oh, me?" He replied, feigning innocence.

"You're the one who agreed to this absurd idea, you know very well how her curiosity works"

Chitanda winked. "Fukube-san, did you feed my curiosity?"

Satoshi smiled. "Ehehe... technically, yes?"

"Technically?!" Oreki retorted. "That's like throwing gasoline on a fire and saying you were just testing it"

"Oh," Satoshi crossed his arms. "You always solve other people's mysteries. Don't you think it's fair to become the mystery this time?"

"No!"

"I think so" Satoshi replied immediately.

The two began to argue, talking over each other.

"You know this is a waste of time"

"You know this is interesting!"

"Interest isn't worth the effort"

"Not everything in life is cost-effective!"

While they argued, Chitanda put her hand to her chin, completely absorbed in her thoughts. "Hmmm..."

They both stopped at the same time. "What is it, Chitanda?" Satoshi asked.

She slowly raised her face, her eyes gleaming dangerously excitedly. "I had an idea"

Oreki felt an immediate chill; this never ended well for him. "Whatever it is, I object"

"Oreki-san," Chitanda moved a little closer, leaning in until she was almost at his eye level. "Are you ticklish?"

Oreki froze, in absolute silence.

Satoshi's eyes widened. "Oooooh! That's a good one!"

"It's not good at all" Oreki replied quickly, perhaps too quickly. "And it's irrelevant"

"But it's an involuntary reflex, isn't it?" She continued, genuinely intrigued. "If it's automatic, maybe..."

Satoshi placed his hands on the table, excited. "Then feel it"

"That's not what I said!"

Chitanda took a cautious step forward, slowly extending her hand and stopping a few inches from Oreki's side. "Can I test it?" She asked, polite as always.

Oreki looked away. "...No"

She immediately withdrew her hand. "I understand" She replied, without insisting.

Satoshi frowned. "Huh? You gave up too easily"

Chitanda smiled slightly. "I didn't give up, I'm just thinking about where it would be most effective"

Oreki looked back at her. "What?"

Too late. Chitanda, with a quick, light movement, touched Oreki's ribs, almost as a test.

He startled in his chair. "Tch-! What did I just say?!"

Satoshi covered his mouth to avoid laughing. "Reaction confirmed!"

"That wasn't laughter" Oreki retorted.

"That's why I said r-e-a-t-i-o-n" He retorted.

Chitanda tilted her head, observing intently. "Interesting" She murmured. "Oreki-san, you reacted faster than when you solve a simple mystery"

Oreki blushed slightly, looking away.

Satoshi grinned broadly. "So it's decided, the next mission of the Classics Club: to map Houtarou Oreki's ticklish spots"

"What??? I didn't authorize that!"

Chitanda smiled, her eyes shining as always. "But Oreki-san," She said softly, "isn't it curious to think that we can laugh unintentionally?"

Oreki sighed, defeated, realizing too late that he had made a mistake. By not ending the conversation immediately, he had, in practice, authorized the continuation of the investigation.

"So," Chitanda said, excitedly, approaching again. "We'll begin methodically"

"Methodically?" Oreki repeated. "What does that mean?"

Satoshi crossed his arms, assuming an exaggeratedly serious air. "Observation, hypothesis, test, and reaction, that's pure science"

"That's not science, it's an abuse of—"

Chitanda carefully extended her finger. "Oreki-san, let me know if you feel uncomfortable" She said, starting at his neck, lightly touching just below his ear.

Oreki stiffened immediately. "Nn-!" He tilted his head, trying to pull away and rid himself of that irritating touch and sensation.

"Immediate reaction" Chitanda commented, her eyes shining. "Fascinating!"

"You just shuddered" Satoshi observed. "Mentally noted"

"Don't write anything down!"

Chitanda shifted her position slightly, moving down to the sides of his torso, touching more cautiously.

"Chitanda...!" Oreki tried to stand up, a short sound escaping him. "Tch-! S-Stohohop...!"

"Ooohh, that was an interesting sound" Satoshi commented.

"It was almost a laugh" Chitanda said, genuinely impressed. "Your body reacts before you can rationalize" She continued, returning to his ribs, with quick, light touches this time.

"Pfft...!" Oreki held his breath, his shoulders rising and trembling in response. "T-This is unfair"

"Why?" Chitanda asked.

"Because..." He looked away. "Because it's uncontrollable"

Satoshi smiled. "So we're getting close, huh?!"

While Chitanda continued to focus on the upper body, testing small variations and observing each reaction attentively, Satoshi had an idea. A dangerous idea.

He crouched down slowly, taking advantage of Oreki being too busy trying not to react to notice him disappear completely from sight under the table. Until...

"Ahhhahaha-! N-No!" A quick tap on the sole of his foot and Oreki jumped violently, the sound escaping before he could stop it.

Satoshi, now well positioned under the table, smiled like someone who had just discovered an archaeological treasure. "Bingo!" As Oreki was distracted, he managed to get under the table and pull one of his shoes off, gaining access to the sole still covered by the sock.

"Satoshi!" Oreki tried to pull his foot away, but he had already secured the point. "Hahahahaha! S-Stop it!" He brought his hand to his face and mouth, trying to contain the laughter that now came in short, involuntary waves.

Chitanda froze, and then her eyes widened. "He laughed!"

"He really laughed" Satoshi confirmed, excitedly.

Oreki tried to compose himself, taking a deep breath. "That was just a momentary slip"

Satoshi ran his fingers along the sole of his shoe once more, this time faster and more precisely.

"Ahahahahahaha! H-Hey!" The laughter was clearer this time, undeniable. "Okay, okahahahahay!"

Chitanda brought her hands to her mouth, completely amazed. "Oreki-san," She said, with a radiant smile. "Your laugh is real!"

Oreki finally managed to pull his foot back, leaning back in his chair, his face slightly flushed. "This has never happened before"

"It has!" Satoshi replied, returning to his seat.

Chitanda nodded, satisfied. "Investigation conclusion: Oreki-san is ticklish and can laugh"

Oreki looked away, sighing. "You two are a disaster"

But, as he picked up the book again, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile. Chitanda saw it, Satoshi too, both soon following suit and smiling even more.

[alinatk]

Applied Research (Sherliam)

Fandom: Moriarty The Patriot Characters: Sherlock Holmes | William James Moriarty Lee!Sherlock Ler!William Summary: A simple search on reflexology leads William to conduct an impromptu experiment on Sherlock. What he didn't expect was such an intense and amusing reaction. Thus, while William documents each response with scientific interest, Sherlock struggles in vain to maintain his dignity. [Read also on Ao3]

Over the years, Sherlock Holmes had developed a very specific instinct. It didn't help him solve crimes, nor predict ambushes, for that, he already had his own brain. This instinct served a more important purpose: identifying when William James Moriarty was about to do something potentially problematic. And, that night, the instinct was screaming.

William sat on the sofa, his posture as impeccable as ever, an open book resting on his lap. Three others were stacked beside him, aligned with excessive precision. There was no tea, no music, just absolute concentration. Detailed diagrams of human feet were scattered across the pages, with fine lines indicating nerves and sensory endings. It had begun like many other things in his life: pure intellectual curiosity.

"May I ask," Sherlock began, approaching slowly. "why are you studying feet?"

William calmly turned the page. "They're pressure points" He replied. "More specifically, the concentration of nerve endings in the sole of the foot and their reflex responses"

Sherlock leaned over the back of the sofa, analyzing the diagram. "This looks dangerously close to medieval torture"

"Actually, it's quite commonly used in modern therapeutic practices" William corrected, unable to help but smile. "Reflexology, acupressure. There are records of interesting involuntary neuromuscular responses"

"Interesting in the scientific sense or in the William Moriarty sense?"

William carefully closed the book and raised his eyes, finally meeting Sherlock's gaze. "I need a volunteer"

He smiled nervously. "Of course you need to..."

Minutes later, Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa and, without any ceremony, rested his bare feet in William's lap, as if it were the most natural place in the world.

"Let me know if you feel any discomfort" William said, opening the book again beside him.

"I always feel uncomfortable when you start sentences like that"

The first touch was technical. Two fingers pressing with moderate firmness near the arch of the foot.

Nothing.

"Hm" Sherlock commented. "I confess I expected more drama"

"Not all points produce perceptible responses" William replied, moving his fingers a few centimeters. "The sensory map varies from individual to individual"

"Fascinating. Can I sleep while this is happening?"

William then slowly slid his fingers, almost distractedly, following a specific line of the diagram.

Sherlock's foot moved on its own. "A-Ah"

William stopped. "What did you feel?"

"I can't quite explain it" Sherlock replied, letting out a short laugh. "It was as if someone had poked a part of my brain"

William tilted his head slightly, genuinely curious now. "Interesting"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I didn't like your tone..."

He then repeated the movement, this time a little slower, more attentive.

The reaction was immediate. "A-Ahahaha, wait!" The laughter escaped before Sherlock could contain it, his whole body writhing on the sofa as he tried to pull his foot back. "That tickled!"

William stopped, surprised. "Tickled? But the pressure was minimal"

"That's precisely why, I think"

William touched it again, now deliberately.

"Hahahaha! Hey, wait a minutehehehe!" Sherlock squirmed, now trying to kick the air as his feet betrayed any attempt at dignity.

"Fascinating" William murmured, completely absorbed. "The response is disproportionate, immediate, and emotionally intense"

"This isn't a report!" He managed to say between laughs.

"There's a heightened hypersensitivity here" William continued, as if giving a lecture. "Possibly associated with your nervous system—"

"YOU'RE TORTURING ME! HAHAHAHA!"

"Technically you volunteered, Sherly" William couldn't help but laugh, finally pulling his hands away as Sherlock nearly slipped off the sofa, laughing breathlessly.

"You're a danger" Sherlock sighed.

"I'll write that down" William said, picking up a sheet of paper. "Stimulation of the lateral points on the sole of the foot provokes intense involuntary laughter in a hypersensitive subject"

Sherlock turned his face towards him, still catching his breath. "I'm not a hypersensitive subject!"

"Alright, then tomorrow we can test our hands"

"No way!"

William let out a short laugh, observing Sherlock for a moment, his chest rising and falling from the remnants of laughter, his eyes shining with involuntary amusement, and the smile persisting even as he tried to appear offended. "Interesting" He said slowly.

Sherlock immediately narrowed his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Stop using that tone with me!"

William didn't answer, only adjusted his position on the sofa, better accommodating Sherlock's feet in his lap. "Just one more check" He said calmly. "This time, intentional"

"That sounded like a threat..."

William's fingers touched the heel first.

Sherlock gave a short, confused laugh. "Don't start!"

"The heel has a lower density of sensory nerve endings" William commented, lightly running his thumb over the area. "The response is more restrained"

"I didn't say you could test me like that—!" William shifted the point, moving a little higher, still on the heel, but on the side. "Hahahaha! No, no, that tickles too!"

"Noted" Said William, genuinely satisfied. "Moderate lateral sensitivity"

Sherlock tried to pull the foot back, but William held on firmly enough to keep it there. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" He accused, between laughs.

William didn't respond immediately, only slid his fingers to the middle of the sole.

"Hahahahahaha! L-Liahahahaham no!" Sherlock threw his head back, writhing on the sofa again.

"Intense, immediate, and difficult-to-control response, right?" He commented, tracing slowly, observing each involuntary spasm.

"Nohahahahahaha! You're studying this as if I were a lab rat!"

"An extremely expressive rat" He corrected, amused.

The next point was the arch of the foot, and Sherlock was already laughing before the touch was even complete.

"No, nohohohoho! That's enough!"

"Anticipation of the stimulus increases the response" William observed. "Fascinating" The fingers then pressed with calculated firmness, following the extent of the arch.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! NOAHAHAHAHA!" Sherlock writhed so hard he almost fell off the sofa again, covering his face as he laughed uncontrollably.

William felt something very close to satisfaction watching this. It wasn't cruelty or sadism, just enchantment. "Your reactions are extremely honest, there's no real attempt at control"

"HAHAHAHA! AS IF I COULD HAVE ANY CONTROL!"

Finally, William reached his toes, hesitating for a brief second, allowing himself to breathe as well.

"Liam..." Sherlock warned, laughing nervously. "You don't—HAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE!" The laughter came loud, uncontrolled, almost hysterical, interrupting any attempt at warning. He kicked the air, completely defeated, his body trembling as he tried in vain to move away.

"The toes exhibit the greatest sensitivity" William concluded, now smiling openly, without trying to hide it. "The answer is immediate and impossible to suppress"

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW! HAHAHAHAHA!"

He finally pulled his hands away, watching Sherlock gasp, still chuckling softly.

There was a brief silence. Then Sherlock turned his face, staring at him. "You are cruel and treacherous"

"And you are extremely susceptible and easy to provoke"

Sherlock pulled his feet away immediately. "You'll never get near my feet again!"

William smiled. "So you mean I can test other areas?"

Sherlock's eyes widened. "What? No!"

William laughed more openly this time. "We'll see, Sherly"

[alinatk]

Tickles (Shizaya)

Fandom: Durarara!! Characters: Shizuo Heiwajima | Izaya Orihara Lee!Izaya Ler!Shizuo Summary: An impromptu massage, a discovered weakness, and revenge. When Shizuo realizes how sensitive Izaya is, he finally decides to retaliate against all the provocations. The problem? Maybe he likes having the informant at his mercy a little too much. [Real also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterst and I don't know who the author is)

The muffled sounds of the city echoed through the half-open windows. Shizuo was sprawled on the sofa, his shirt unbuttoned, a half-extinguished cigarette between his fingers. The silence lasted only until Izaya, wrapped in the most expensive sheet he could find in the closet, appeared in the hallway with a dramatic sigh and a bored expression.

"Shizu-chan... You don't love me anymore, do you?"

Shizuo let out a grunt without even turning his face. "Here you go again with that nonsense"

Izaya entered the room and, without ceremony, threw himself onto the sofa next to him, placing his bare feet in the blond's lap. "You don't pay attention to me. How long have we lived together anyway? If I don't provoke you or almost die, you don't even look at me!"

Shizuo raised an eyebrow, looking at his feet as if they were some kind of deadly trap. "Izaya, do you want to die? Take that off my leg!"

"Ahhh, so you admit it! You miss killing me, but not me. How sad" He pouted dramatically. "All I ask is a little affection, preferably in the form of a foot massage. That's all. Is that too much to ask?"

Shizuo snorted loudly, clearly waging an internal battle between his natural irritation and some hint of feeling he would never admit aloud. He took the cigarette from his mouth, stubbed it out in the ashtray, and muttered, "You're a bastard, you know that?"

"But I'm your bastard. Now, magic hands, please"

With an eye roll and an incomprehensible grumble, Shizuo finally brought his hands to Izaya's feet. He started slowly, his firm fingers pressing gently into the soles of his feet, without applying too much force and trying not to notice how much warmer and softer his skin was than he expected. "Hmm, look at that, you're actually quite good at this" Izaya said smugly.

"If you open your mouth again, I'll break your ankle"

Izaya chuckled softly, but this time, without sarcasm. His eyes softened slightly as he looked at Shizuo, focused even while grumbling, even reluctantly. "You know, sometimes I think you hate me less than you say"

Shizuo paused. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and he replied dryly, "And sometimes I think you like me more than you should"

"Maybe. But who in their right mind would like you, huh?"

"You"

Izaya smiled genuinely, slightly sideways, and settled back on the sofa, closing his eyes, while Shizuo continued to massage his feet.

Shizuo continued pressing and dragging his thumbs across Izaya's soles until he noticed a subtle reaction. It was something almost imperceptible, a slight tremor in his ankle, a slight curling of his toes, and, more than anything, a different sigh coming from him. "Was it my imagination or did you squirm?"

Izaya, his eyes closed, replied with lazy disdain. "Your imagination. Don't spoil the mood, Shizu-chan"

Shizuo didn't answer, he just pressed again, a little faster, now with his fingertips running along the arch of his foot.

Izaya jumped. "Hey!"

"Ahh, so that's what it was" He gave a slight smile, rare and dangerously amused. "You're ticklish"

Izaya quickly removed one foot from his lap, but the other remained trapped in his hands. And that was all Shizuo needed.

"Shizu-chan, let go"

"No"

"I'm serious"

"Me too" And then he began, running his fingers along the sole of Izaya's foot, teasingly tracing the arch and sliding between his toes.

Izaya burst into involuntary laughter, trying to back away. "Shizu-chahahahahahan! Stahahahahahahahap!" He tried to get up, but Shizuo was stronger, pushing him back into place.

"You're always provoking me, Izaya. Always running away, teasing, pretending. Now finally something gives me an advantage" His voice was almost amused, as if he savored that rare moment.

"Ahahahahahahahaha! You're using brute force again!" Izaya laughed and protested, kicking with his free foot, while the other was attacked mercilessly.

"I'm being too gentle"

Izaya rolled to the side, trying to get away, but Shizuo followed the movement. "You'll pay for this!"

"You're paying now"

The informant's eyes were already watering from laughing so hard, his hair disheveled, and his legs unsuccessfully trying to push Shizuo away. Finally, completely breathless, Izaya gave in. "Okay, okahahahahahahay, I surrender! I admit it! Hahahahahahaha!"

"Admit what?" Shizuo slowed his movements.

"That I like it when you pay attention to me! Now stop torturing my foot, you bastard!"

Shizuo finally stopped, letting him catch his breath. He stared at him for a few seconds, with a strange mixture of triumph and restrained tenderness. Then he released his ankle and approached, crawling over him. "You could just ask for things without drama"

"But what would be the fun in that?" Izaya said, smiling through his still slightly panting breath.

"Fun, huh?" Shizuo snapped his fingers, as if preparing for more. "Really, that was very funny, I should continue then..."

Izaya's eyes widened instantly. "No, no, wait, you—" But he didn't have time to finish the sentence.

Shizuo, with that rare little smile that only appeared at very specific moments, usually when he found some silent and surprising way to dominate Izaya without destroying the entire apartment in the process, cut him off. "You provoke so much, I thought you were good at taking a provocation back" And with the same frightening efficiency he used to lift street signs, he pinned Izaya down with one leg on each side, using his body weight to prevent any immediate escape.

"Shizu-chan…" Izaya began, his voice hesitant and with that empty threat tone. "If you do that again, I swear I—"

But Shizuo ignored him, sliding his fingers along the side of his waist.

Izaya arched immediately. "No, nohahahahahaha!"

But it was too late, Shizuo had already begun. His fingers ran precisely along his sides, climbing up his ribs, alternating light touches with more incisive ones, provoking uncontrollable laughter. "So you're ticklish everywhere... How interesting"

"Hahahahahahaha! Shizu-chahahahahan!"

Izaya tried to squirm, using his arms to defend himself, but the blond blocked everything with irritating ease. He could feel Shizuo's fingers climbing up his ribs, reaching the back of his armpits, which made him literally squeal in surprise and kick the air. "You're taking advantage! Hahahahahahaha!" He shouted between laughs, his voice choked and desperate.

"Taking advantage? Izaya, you threw a knife at me this morning because I ate your onigiri"

"YOU DESERVED IT!"

Shizuo, with an almost wicked calm, moved his hands to his armpits, dipping his fingers in and out in all directions. "Let's test it here now"

"NOHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHA!" Izaya burst into a louder laugh, completely at his mercy, as he tried to hold back tears of laughter, his face flushed and his hair disheveled. "YOU'RE A MONSTER!"

"And you're annoying"

Finally, seeing that Izaya could barely breathe, Shizuo stopped. He remained silent for a few seconds, just watching the other recover, awkward and still laughing, but clearly trying to hide how much he had enjoyed all that attention.

"I hate you" Izaya murmured, turning his face away and crossing his arms.

Shizuo leaned in, his lips brushing his ear as he replied in a low, hoarse voice. "No more than you likes me"

Izaya immediately shuddered, shivers running down his spine, and after a few seconds, murmured, "Tsk... give me a few minutes. And then I swear I'll plan the best revenge you've ever seen"

Shizuo leaned back on the sofa, satisfied. "I'll wait"

And so, in that truce between forced laughter and teasing, the two rested side by side, their private war, for now, suspended.

[alinatk]

The Tickle Monster (Sherliam)

Fandom: Moriarty The Patriot Characters: Sherlock Holmes | William James Moriarty Lee!Sherlock Ler!William Summary: William survived the accident and Sherlock survived the fear, but the silence still haunts them. So, when an unexpected joke turns worry into laughter, the two finally confront what has remained trapped between them: the fear of losing and the need to remember, in an unconventional way, that they are still there. [Read also on Ao3] Notes: I based this chapter on the image below. I found it on Pinterest and it was in Japanese, so I translated and I'll leave it here. I have no idea who the author is, unfortunately.

The bedroom light was low, the house silent.

Sherlock didn't like this. Since the accident, since the endless days William lay unconscious, the silence had never seemed neutral again. It always came laden with unpleasant possibilities.

He entered as he always did: overly attentive. He already knew the pattern, checking his breathing, his posture, checking if William was comfortable, if he looked pale. Checking if—

He stopped. There was a suspicious volume in the middle of the bed, completely wrapped in a sheet, motionless. Sherlock stood still for a few seconds. His brain thought of too many possibilities in record time. "Liam?" He called, his voice more restrained than he would have liked.

The bundle moved. "I'm fine"

Sherlock released the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, approaching the bed. "Are you... comfortable?"

"Quite"

Sherlock crossed his arms. "And is there any specific reason for you to be completely wrapped in a sheet like a cursed entity?"

The sheet tilted slightly to the side. "It's my tickle monster costume"

Sherlock blinked. "Your... what?"

That was the exact amount of time William needed. The "monster" lunged forward. Two hands slipped from under the fabric and gripped his sides with precision.

"Liam—"

Too late. Fingers found his ribs, moving up with calculated lightness.

"Monsters don't follow social and moral standards" William murmured under the sheet, moving further.

Sherlock let out a loud, short, incredulous laugh, completely taken by surprise, doubling back. "Hahahahaha! T-This is ridiculous!" He tried to protest, already laughing too hard to maintain any authority.

Fingers squeezed lightly, exploring. Sherlock tried to remain serious, managing to hold out for an incredible two seconds. "Noaahahahaha! Stop it! Y-You should be resting! Hahahahahaha!"

William took another step forward, forcing Sherlock to move forward as well to try and grab his hands. The sheet still enveloped him, creating an absurdly dramatic silhouette. "It's your fault, the monster only attacks excessively tense targets" He murmured, his voice muffled.

His fingers moved upwards, with Sherlock practically choking as they got closer to his armpits. "No, no, no, don't you dare—"

William dared. The attack changed rhythm, alternating quick, light touches with slightly firmer pressure.

Sherlock completely lost his composure. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! LIAM!" He fell onto the bed, trying to hold his hands and the sheet, but only managed to get more tangled in it.

William, still half-ghostly, continued, this time with quick and relentless movements. "You're laughing too loudly" He commented, with frightening serenity, now kneeling on the mattress, attacking from both sides at once.

Sherlock doubled over instantly. "IT'S YOUR FAULT—HAHAHAHAHA!" He tried to turn around, but William followed his every move, his fingers always finding the right spot. "I-I'M NOT TENSE!" He tried to argue, already completely compromised.

"Contrary evidence detected"

Sherlock was panting now, desperately trying not to laugh so loudly, but without success.

Laughter echoed down the hallway, and with the sound of quick footsteps, the door swung open. Billy appeared, his hair disheveled and his expression incredulous. "What time is it, gentlemen?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. "Do you really think anyone can sleep with this noise?"

Sherlock was still laughing, his face completely flushed. "S-Sorry!"

William emerged partially from under the sheet, his expression too composed for someone who had just caused chaos. "It was an unexpected supernatural attack" He explained.

Billy didn't seem convinced. "Silence" He said, closing the door immediately afterward.

The room was quiet for a few seconds. Sherlock was still catching his breath when William tilted his head slightly. "Did you hear that, Sherly?"

His eyes widened. "Liam, wait—"

"Be quiet" And he attacked again.

Sherlock let out a sound that was half laughter, half muffled protest. He squirmed in bed as William, now completely out of ghost mode, restrained him with relative ease and resumed the tickling, more controlled, yet strategically positioned. "Hahahaha! I'm trying!" He said, burying his face in the pillow to stifle his laughter.

"Your performance is unsatisfactory" William commented calmly, exploring the sides again, before moving up to the armpits.

Sherlock practically jumped in place, the pillow barely containing his explosive laughter. "I'm going to die...!" He whispered between laughs, completely surrendered.

"That's statistically improbable"

After a few more seconds, just enough to leave Sherlock trembling and defenseless, William finally stopped.

The room fell silent again. Sherlock lay on his back, breathing deeply, still letting out involuntary giggles. "That was cruel"

"I found it therapeutic" William said, sitting down beside him, pulling the sheet completely away. "But the monster has been defeated" He announced softly.

Sherlock turned to face him. "You're unbearable and absurdly dangerous"

William watched him for a few seconds, no joke now. "You've been watching me like I'm going to stop breathing at any moment"

The lightness lessened, and Sherlock was quiet for a few seconds. "You were unconscious" He said finally, more quietly. "For days..."

William listened without interrupting.

"I spoke to you, even without response. I checked your pulse. Repeatedly. Even knowing you were stable"

A heavier silence fell between them.

"I don't like not being able to do anything" Sherlock admitted. "And I didn't like almost losing you"

William leaned a little closer. "I understand"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "So when you get too quiet, or too still, my brain decides something's wrong"

William touched his hand. "It's alright, Sherly, I'm not going to disappear"

Sherlock didn't answer immediately. "I know that rationally"

William smiled slightly, placing a hand on his cheek. "Then maybe you need less rational reminders"

Sherlock chuckled softly. "Your method is questionable"

"But efficient"

Sherlock put his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. "I prefer it when you're making noise" Sherlock murmured. "Laughing, talking, teasing"

William rested his forehead against his. "Then I'll do that, but only when necessary" William added.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Was that a threat?"

"A preemptive promise"

Sherlock smiled, finally relaxed. "Ridiculous monster"

"Paranoid detective"

They remained like that for a few minutes. No tension, no frightening silence, just breathing in sync.

And, for the first time in a long time, Sherlock wasn't counting the intervals between each of them.

[alinatk]

Comfort in the Form of Chaos

Fandom: Romantic Killer Characters: Anzu Hoshino | Kazuki Tsukasa Lee!Kazuki Ler!Anzu Summary: Anzu only wanted to repay Kazuki's effort, but ended up unlocking his secret weakness. Now, between board games and "scientific experiments," even the most composed boy can lose his composure, especially when he decides to challenge a competitive gamer. [Read also on Ao3]

The sound of pages being turned and the soft clinking of cutlery coming from the kitchen were the only signs of life in Anzu Hoshino's house. On the sofa, Kazuki Tsukasa calmly leafed through a school notebook, his eyes slightly tired, marked by dark circles. He had just arrived home from his part-time job and, even after hours of classes, still dedicated himself to his tasks with the same impeccable composure.

Anzu watched everything from the kitchen, leaning against the counter, with a somewhat guilty expression. "This is unfair..." She murmured to herself, looking at the almost-ready curry dish. "He does everything, studies, works, cooks sometimes, does laundry... And me? I only played one game and ate three chocolate bars today..."

Thus, determined, she slammed the lid shut on the pot more forcefully than necessary, grabbed a clean towel, and marched to the living room with the most serious face possible. Kazuki looked up from his notebook as she approached.

"I've finished dinner" She said, placing the folded tablecloth on the table. "But before that, sit up straight. Feet on the sofa, you're going to get a massage"

Kazuki blinked a few times, confused. "Huh? A massage?"

"Yes, a foot massage. You're welcome"

"I didn't ask for it... and honestly, it's not necessary. I'm fine, Hoshino"

She crossed her arms, staring at him. "You're always 'fine', Kazuki. But if you keep accumulating stress, you'll end up exploding. Or worse, aging before you're 20. And then you'll ruin my romantic gaming routes with your tired face hanging around the house"

He let out a low sigh, slightly amused. "You're offering me a massage to keep you immersed in the games?"

"Among other reasons, yes"

Kazuki hesitated, part of him wanted to refuse. It was strange, even embarrassing. But Anzu's insistent manner was hard to resist, and, well, his feet really did hurt a little. "Okay, but just a little"

"Victory!" Anzu celebrated discreetly, sitting down next to him on the sofa, pulling his feet into her lap. "Relax and let the pro do her job"

She then began to gently press the soles of his feet, trying to remember the massage videos she'd watched on some random late-night YouTube video. "You have incredibly... normal feet. I thought a schoolboy heartthrob's feet would have a shine or something"

"Sorry to disappoint you" He said, frowning slightly as he felt a firmer touch. "This... is actually good"

"Of course it is. You're talking to a gamer who survived level endings with absurdly difficult choices. I can handle pressure. Literally"

Kazuki let out a brief chuckle, his shoulders finally relaxing. "You know, Hoshino, you don't need to worry so much. I'm not doing all this because I feel obligated" He said, managing to imagine the reason for such a random action.

She paused for a second, without looking at him. "I know, but even so, I want to reciprocate. Even if it's just with a massage like this, I don't have much to offer, but I have time. And magic fingers"

"Magic fingers?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't criticize the name of my free service"

They laughed together, the atmosphere light and comfortable. For a moment, the silence was filled only by the touch of her fingers on the soles of his feet, and the strange, yet comforting, sensation of mutual care.

Kazuki glanced discreetly at her, who still avoided any direct eye contact, as was typical of her, and smiled slightly. "Thank you, Hoshino, really"

She shrugged, trying to hide the slight blush on her cheeks, and went back to concentrating on what she was doing, pressing the right points on the sole of Kazuki's foot, testing the techniques she swore she remembered from the videos, until she almost didn't notice the slight movement he made, almost.

"Wait a minute..." She narrowed her eyes, squeezing again, this time more gently, almost like a line, a little higher up, near his toes.

Kazuki pulled his foot slightly, in an instinctive reflex, and looked away as if he had been caught doing something wrong. "It was nothing, just a reflex" He tried to maintain his composure, but his insecure tone betrayed him.

She was silent for a split second. Then she smiled, very slowly, like a child who had just found a precious secret. "Kazuki, are you ticklish?" She asked, widening her eyes almost dramatically.

"I'm not—Hoshino!" He tried to pull away, but she had already grabbed his ankle as if it were a lottery prize.

"This. Is. Incredible!" She exclaimed loudly, clearly excited. "The guy who manages to stay calm with girls throwing themselves at him in high school loses his composure with a touch on the foot?"

"I knew this was a terrible idea" Kazuki covered his face with his hand, visibly embarrassed.

"A terrible idea for you maybe, but for me this is invaluable information" She giggled, positioning her fingers threateningly.

"Hoshino, don't you dare..."

"Kazuki, I will" And without further warning, she began to trace and lightly poke the length of his sole.

Kazuki flinched, letting out a muffled laugh, trying to maintain control. "S-Seriously, stohohohohohop it!" He said through gritted teeth, trying to pull his foot back.

"Oh, no, this is like 'Discover the secret heartthrob's hidden weakness', an achievement!" She tried another approach this time, sliding her fingers more carefully along the arch of his foot.

"Hahahahahahaha! H-Hoshino!" Kazuki squirmed.

"What? This is practically science, I'm mapping your sensitivity, so you should be thanking me"

Kazuki finally managed to pull his foot away and retreated to the other side of the sofa. "This is sensory harassment" He grumbled, his cheeks flushed.

Anzu looked at him, hands raised, still laughing. "Okay, okay, I'll stop, for now. But admit it, you feel lighter now"

He looked at her, half exasperated, half amused. "Yes... But I'm afraid of what else you might do with this kind of discovery"

"Secrets have consequences, Kazuki. And this one, now, is mine" She said, leaning back on the sofa with a victorious air, while Kazuki tried to regain his dignity. But even he couldn't hide the stubborn little smile at the corner of his lips.

Deep down, despite the embarrassment, there was something comforting in all that chaos.

The night passed peacefully at Anzu's house. After the "torture session" and dinner, as Kazuki was beginning to refer to the recent experience, they settled into the living room, now with a board game box between them, open on the floor.

Anzu finished arranging the pieces with the attention of a war general. Kazuki, on the other side, watched her with a strategic gaze, despite his usual calm.

"Okay" He said, crossing his arms. "Since you enjoy exploiting other people's weaknesses so much, I propose something fair"

Anzu raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Here we go again"

"One game, just one. If I win, I get the right to retaliate with the same tickling you did to me" He seemed very calm for someone who also had a chance of losing. "On the same terms, foot for foot"

She stared at him silently for a second, then smiled, that mischievous smile. "And if I win...?"

Kazuki hesitated, but knew he was already at a dead end. "You can continue your 'sensitivity mapping' with extended time"

"Perfect" She said, snapping her fingers. "Let the games begin!"

~Twenty minutes later

"NO!" Kazuki's eyes widened as he watched Anzu move the final piece on the board with ease. "This isn't possible..."

"Possible? This was inevitable, my dear Kazuki" She leaned back triumphantly, her arms raised like an Olympic champion. "You dared to challenge me in a game. I'm trained in timed stages, moral decisions, and multiple endings, you never stood a chance"

"I underestimated your competitive instinct" He admitted.

"You shouldn't have given me this choice" She said, already approaching him with a predatory look and her fingers in an attack position.

Kazuki raised his hands, instinctively recoiling. "Wait, calm down, let's negotiate. I can do the dishes for a week. A month! But—"

"Negotiation refused, you knew the risks" She then jumped beside him with the speed of someone who had already played hours of a game in insane mode. Kazuki tried to escape, but she was faster, firmly gripping his ankle and sliding her fingers along the sole.

Kazuki immediately squirmed, letting out a laugh. "Hahahahahahaha! Hoshino!"

"Ah, what a wonderful sound" She said, laughing too. "Like victory music!"

This time, she explored more precisely, remembering the points that had made him react more before, paying special attention to the arch and toes.

Kazuki tried to maintain his composure, but laughter escaped in waves. "Hahahahahahahaha! Stop it... stahahahahahap it...!" He said between laughs, his shoulders trembling, almost bent over on the floor.

"This is just the beginning" She replied, feigning exaggerated seriousness. "We're only in the first phase of the experiment. Next: the center of the sole"

Kazuki covered his face with his hands, laughing and murmuring between giggles. "Why did I think I could beat you? Hahahahahahahahaha!"

Anzu paused for a moment, still with her hand on his foot, and smiled, more gently this time. "Because you're too competitive. And also because, deep down, I think you don't care that much about losing to me" She winked.

He glanced at her sideways, the smile still on his lips. There was something there, something light, comfortable, and almost intimate. "Maybe" He replied, without denying it.

She finally let go of his foot and threw herself back against the sofa, laughing. "Next time, let's play Mario Kart. But I'm warning you, I only lose if I'm blindfolded and have one hand occupied with chocolate"

Kazuki shook his head, but couldn't hide the genuine smile that took over his expression, as if he had already accepted defeat in advance.

[alinatk]

Betrayal in a Dream, Forgiveness in a Touch (Sherliam)

Fandom: Moriarty The Patriot Characters: Sherlock Holmes | William James Moriarty Lee!Sherlock Ler!William Summary: When a dream becomes irrefutable proof of guilt, Sherlock decides to judge William in the harshest of courts: the emotional one. The problem is that William not only accepts the accusation, but also decides to defend himself in the most unfair way possible, exploiting reactions, laughter, and a known weakness. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest and the credits are in the image)

The night was too silent for Sherlock's mood. He lay on his side, his back to William, rigidly still under the sheets, as if that position were a declaration of war. His arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tense, his breathing too shallow for someone who was supposedly just trying to sleep.

William, lying beside him, took a few seconds to realize that this wasn't just an anticipated morning grumpiness. "Sherly..." He called, in a low, almost careful voice. "Are you still awake?"

No answer. Just a muffled grumble, laden with offense.

William sighed slightly. "Let me guess, did I do something unforgivable?"

"You betrayed me" Sherlock replied dryly, without turning over.

William blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"In my dream" He adjusted the pillow with excessive force. "You betrayed me shamelessly, with full awareness, and still tried to justify it with dubious moral logic"

There was a brief silence. Then William smiled. "That was in a dream"

"Irrelevant" Sherlock retorted. "The intention was there"

William rested his head on his hand, observing the tense line of his back beneath the fabric of his shirt. "And can I defend myself in this dream court?"

"No"

"I understand.." He moved a little closer. "Even so, I deeply regret any psychological suffering my unconscious version may have caused you"

"It's not funny"

"Oh, it is" Said William, his tone of voice and breath giving him away completely.

"Stop laughing"

"I'm not laughing" He brought his hand to his mouth to stifle a small sound.

"Yes, you are"

William then decided to change strategy. So, slowly, he brought his hand to Sherlock's back, placing it there carefully, his fingers sliding in an almost conciliatory gesture. "Sherly..." He murmured. "It was just a dream, I'm here"

"Don't touch me"

William, of course, touched him. The movement was slow, almost distracted, his fingers tracing soft lines across his back over the fabric, like someone trying to calm a skittish animal. The intention seemed innocent enough, until it wasn't anymore.

Sherlock stiffened slightly, and William noticed. "Hm.." He murmured, curious. "Interesting"

"What's interesting?" Sherlock asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing" He repeated the movement, a little slower, his fingers spreading slightly. "I'm just trying to calm you down"

Sherlock let out a low sound, almost a grumble, and shifted, trying to move a few inches away. "It's not working"

William repeated the gesture, now a little more to the side, exploring slowly.

Sherlock held his breath. "Liam"

"Yes?"

"This..." He interrupted himself. "This is unfair"

William tilted his head, attentive. "Unfair?"

"You know exactly what you're doing!"

"I'm asking for forgiveness"

"With physical blackmail!"

"I'd call it emotional encouragement" His fingers slid again, this time finding a sensitive spot just below the shoulder blades.

Sherlock flinched, letting out a short, involuntary laugh that he immediately tried to suppress. "D-Don't you dare use that against me..!" He warned, his voice now less firm.

William grinned brazenly. "Use what?" He repeated the movement, deliberately.

Sherlock squirmed slightly. "That!" He laughed again, brief and betrayed. "S-Stohohop!"

"Are you still angry with me?"

"Yes!"

"Then I still need to insist" His fingers now moved with more precision, too light to be ignored, too firm to be easily endured.

Sherlock gripped the sheets, trying to maintain some dignity. "You are absolutely detestable! Hahahahahahaha!" He said, laughing against his will.

"And yet," William replied softly, "you're relaxing"

"That doesn't mean forgiveness!"

William leaned a little closer, his voice low against his ear. "What if I promise not to betray you in future dreams?"

"Dream promises have no legal validity..."

"Hm... What if I keep apologizing... like this?" His fingers traced another slow line down his back, eliciting another muffled laugh.

Sherlock sighed, defeated. "You play dirty"

"You like it" William smiled, satisfied. "So, can I be forgiven?"

Sherlock was silent for a few seconds. Then he turned his face enough for William to see the still indignant, but clearly softer, look. "Just this once"

William smiled, withdrawing his hand and pulling him closer. "Excellent. I will strive not to offend your honor, either awake or asleep"

Sherlock muttered something unintelligible, but let himself settle in, finally relaxing against him. "I'm still watching you" He murmured.

"I hope so" William replied, closing his eyes, satisfied.

[alinatk]

Tickles (DabiHawks - HotWings)

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia Characters: Dabi (Touya Todoroki) | Hawks (Takami Keigo) Lee!Hawks Ler!Dabi Summary: The problem with complaining and wanting attention from someone like Dabi is that it will always have consequences. Hawks learns this the hard way, or rather, the best way possible when a simple massage quickly turns into a fun competition where sensitivity is seen as weakness, making it clear who really has the upper hand in that relationship. [Read also on Ao3] Notes: It's rather suggestive content.

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest)

Hawks opened the apartment door with a soft click, sliding inside with an exaggerated sigh, as if he'd just carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"Ugh..." He grumbled, dropping his jacket on the back of the sofa. "My wings are intact, but my feet, man... It feels like they marched to hell and back, all in the name of justice"

Sitting in the other corner of the room, Dabi raised an eyebrow without even looking up from his phone. "You fly" He said dryly. "Literally. Don't touch the ground if you can avoid it"

"That's just a detail" Hawks grinned, throwing himself onto the sofa with an almost theatrical dramatization. "I had to land on rooftops, escape through narrow alleys, and can you believe a civilian made me chase his cat today? Number two hero, Dabi, I deserve an award, or a treat"

Dabi huffed and dropped his phone on the arm of the armchair. His gaze burned with irony, but also with a certain resigned weariness. He knew Hawks too well to completely fall for that act, but even so, he pulled his feet onto his lap. "Maybe that 'treat' you want isn't on your feet, but higher up" He pointed.

"I don't deny anything, but start with them" Hawks replied, a mischievous smile spreading across his face as he sank deeper into the upholstery.

Dabi rolled his eyes, but began to press his fingers along the soles of his feet with surprisingly careful movements. His touch was warm, naturally, but gentle, avoiding any discomfort. "Tsk... You're not even ashamed, are you? You should be all broken after patrol, but your feet are smoother than a hero's ego"

"I take care of myself, duh" Hawks said with a satisfied little smile. "But you're touching them like you're experienced. Have you massaged many feet, Dabi?"

Dabi looked up with a mocking glint and squeezed Hawks' foot a little harder, making him shudder. "Only those I've endured for more than five minutes. Lucky you"

"Ah, so I'm special" He said, forcing an air of superiority.

"More like bearable" Dabi replied, tracing his thumb down the center of Hawks' foot.

Hawks let out a soft sound, somewhere between surprise and a suppressed gasp.

Dabi paused for a second. "What was that?"

"Nothing, just... continue" He said, too quickly, as if wanting to forget or get past the subject.

Dabi smiled slightly, but it wasn't a gentle smile, it was the smile of someone who has found ammunition. "Sensitive, huh?" He murmured with a hint of playful danger. "Interesting"

"Dabi..." He narrowed his eyes, now on alert.

"Relax, I'll be gentle with you" Dabi chuckled, resuming the massage with gentle movements for now. His fingers lingered on the most delicate points of his feet, testing reactions, studying each involuntary tremor.

Hawks looked away, trying to maintain his composure, but it was difficult with that heat creeping across his skin with each well-placed touch. He was beginning to regret asking for it.

Dabi was clearly enjoying himself now. "You were complaining for nothing just to get me to touch you, huh? I admit that was clever"

"It worked, didn't it?"

Dabi tilted his face, pressing his lips against Hawks' ankle, leaving a warmth there that didn't just come from his Quirk. "Only because I allowed it"

Hawks tried to appear relaxed, but his tense jaw and contracted muscles completely betrayed him. And that damned light, slow massage only made things more difficult.

A silence fell between them, until Dabi asked with a wry smile. "So tell me, birdie" His voice came low, drawn out, almost lazy. "Do you prefer when I press here...?" He pressed the arch of Hawks' foot firmly with his thumb.

Hawks let out a soft, restrained sigh.

"...Or when I do this?" And this time, Dabi lightly dragged the tip of his finger along the sole, from the heel to the base of the toes.

The reaction was immediate, Hawks' foot twitched, and the hero let out an involuntary half-laugh, as if he'd been caught off guard. "Dabi..." He murmured, the corners of his mouth already beginning to twitch.

Dabi's eyes widened slightly in feigned surprise. "Hmm, look at that, was that a giggle? Are you ticklish by any chance?"

"I'm not ticklish" He lied, already shifting restlessly on the sofa, trying to pull his foot back. "It was just a reflex"

"Sure" Dabi said, now with an openly mischievous expression. He gripped his ankle firmly, as if studying his prey. "Reflex. Shall we confirm that together?"

And before Hawks could protest, Dabi ran his fingers more intently along the sole of his foot, quick, light, persistent.

The hero's laugh came without warning, somewhat choked, as if he were still trying to maintain his composure. "D-Dabi hahahahahaha!" Stop it!" He said, between stifled laughs, kicking the air with his other foot.

"Ah, so it was tickling after all, how interesting" He murmured, now diligently exploring each sensitive spot. Dabi's long, warm fingers lightly scratched his arches, slipping between his toes and tracing certain points that elicited more desperate laughter from Hawks, like the middle of the sole.

"Hahahahahahaha! Wait! I-It's not fair! Hahahahahahaha!" Hawks complained, writhing on the sofa, his wings flapping uselessly behind him. "I'm tired, this was supposed to be relaxing!"

"I'm taking care of you, birdie" Dabi teased, with a wide grin. "I'm just exploring new therapeutic methods"

"This isn't therapy! Hahahahahahaha!" It's torture disguised as affection!" He managed to say between laughs.

"And you're loving it" Dabi retorted, chuckling softly.

Hawks, even while laughing and trying to break free, didn't deny it. Amidst the protests, his eyes shone, there was something intimate and disarming in that surrender, even under attack. "You're a sadist" He said, his breath ragged, still writhing at his feet, trying to escape the hands that were slowly losing their rhythm.

Dabi finally stopped, keeping his hands where they were, now only gripping his feet more firmly. "Only with those who can handle it" He said, his voice lower this time.

There was a brief silence between them, Hawks' breathing calming. "Okay, you've had your fun, now it's my turn"

Dabi didn't answer, but he saw Hawks lean forward, agile, and in a swift movement, lunge at him, knocking him back onto the carpet. "Tsk... Bold"

Hawks, now on top, gripped his boyfriend's side and began to slide his fingers under his white shirt. "Let's see if you're ticklish too, nobody escapes revenge!"

Dabi clicked his tongue, a slight spasm running through his body as Hawks' fingers found his waist, a nervous smile taking over his expression. "Are you really trying?" He teased.

Hawks didn't answer, only increased the intensity, his fingers exploring along his ribs this time, with a mixture of precision and playful revenge.

And for a moment, it seemed to work, Dabi arched his back with an involuntary sigh, a hoarse laugh escaping. "Hah... getting the hang of it, huh, birdie?"

But before Hawks could celebrate, he felt Dabi's warm hands firmly encircle his hips. "Too bad you got distracted" And, in a quick and effortless movement, he reversed their position, immobilizing Hawks's wrists above his head with one hand.

Hawks opened his mouth to protest, but froze as he felt Dabi's free hand slowly slide along the contour of his shoulders, until it reached the base of his wings, causing him to shudder immediately. "N-No... Don't you dare...!"

"What?" Dabi smiled, his voice low and provocative. "Can't I touch my boyfriend? I thought we were intimate"

"They're sensitive" He said through gritted teeth, already squirming, but without the real strength to break free.

"Precisely for that reason" Dabi replied, calmly dragging his fingers along one of the wings, making the feathers bristle in a visible shudder. "Each of these feathers reacts as if it were pure nerve. Delicate, aren't they?"

"Hahahahahahahaha! No! D-Dabi...!" Hawks gasped, his body involuntarily shrinking as the fingers passed near the base of the wings, where the feathers were shorter and thinner and where the sensitivity was almost electric.

"You may be all confident in the sky, but down here on the ground," He brushed his lips along the curve of the left wing, speaking between slow taunts, "you tremble at the slightest touch. So much hidden fragility, huh?"

"T-That's a low blow" Hawks practically choked, squinting, a visible blush on his cheeks.

"It's strategy, a villain's strategy" Dabi replied, and then, without warning, attacked both wings simultaneously, his nimble fingers gliding along their bases, applying small pressures, light scratches, alternating touches of teasing and tickling.

Hawks burst into uncontrollable laughter, his muscles contracting, his wings thrashing aimlessly. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO, NOHAHAHAHAHAHA!" It was too much, too sensitive.

Dabi smiled, having to dodge a few times because of the wings' agitation, but continued the attack.

"PLEASE! HAHAHAHAHAHA! I SURRENDER!" He yelled between laughs, his body contorting, his eyes tearing up.

Dabi stopped, but kept his gaze fixed on him, his fingers playing on his chest, with a smile that was almost a malicious victory. "Your revenge was pathetic" He said, resting his forehead against his. "But it was worth it to see you writhing like that because of me"

Hawks was still trying to catch his breath, his eyes half-closed, his breathing ragged. "I'll still get my revenge, just you wait"

Dabi shrugged. "Good luck, birdie"

[alinatk]

Antidote to Boredom (Sherliam)

Fandom: Moriarty The Patriot Characters: Sherlock Holmes | William James Moriarty Lee!Sherlock Ler!William Summary: In a strangely tranquil London, Sherlock faces his greatest enemy: boredom. William then decides to distract him in an unconventional way, turning caution into provocation and revealing a vulnerability that Sherlock never intended to expose. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest and the credits are in the image)

The rain drummed against the windows of Sherlock Holmes's apartment, the sound constantly irritating. He was sprawled on the sofa, his legs dangling over the armrest, his shoes still sticking out, a pile of papers scattered on the floor, and an expression of pure annoyance on his face.

"Three disappearances that are just romantic elopements, two jewel thefts solved by drunken witnesses, and a cat that didn't disappear" Sherlock grumbled, sinking further into the sofa. "I'm being wasted"

William James Moriarty, who was calmly leafing through a book sitting in the armchair beside him, looked up like someone watching a spoiled child complaining about the lack of a new toy. "Perhaps the world is temporarily at peace, it's not exactly a tragedy"

"It's torture, Liam"

William sighed, closing the book with a soft snap as he stood up and approached with that restrained smile on his lips that made Sherlock suspicious. "Take off your shoes"

"...What?"

"Your shoes. And your socks. You're tense and irritated, I'll help you relax"

"That doesn't sound like a proven effective method"

"Trust me"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Is this some veiled form of psychological experiment?"

"It could be" William replied, sitting elegantly at the other end of the sofa. "Or it could just be the gesture of a man who loves another and knows him too well to realize he needs a distraction"

Sherlock sighed dramatically, but yielded. He took off his shoes with a slight push at the heels, and, with some hesitation, removed his socks, feeling suddenly more vulnerable than he wanted to admit.

William took one of the feet in his elegant, cold, and meticulous hands, beginning to massage it with slow, precise movements.

"That's..." Sherlock tried to keep his voice steady. "That's more tolerable than I imagined"

"Was that a compliment or an insult? Are you trying to maintain your pride, is that it?" William smiled as his thumbs slid along the length of his sole, finding points of tension with almost surgical precision.

But soon something curious happened, a slight tremor ran through Sherlock's body, causing him to flinch slightly. William raised an eyebrow. "Ah... interesting" His thumbs slowly returned to that same region, the base and underside of his toes. "Sensitive here?"

"It's just... an involuntary response of the peripheral nervous system" Sherlock tried to maintain his composure, but the slight current of shivers that ran up his skin betrayed him.

William smiled and gently traced the arch of his foot, causing Sherlock to instinctively stretch his leg, almost as if trying to escape the touch.

"You find it funny, don't you?" Sherlock frowned.

"Just reflecting on how even the greatest detective can squirm with a simple touch" William said, circling the area again with a more delicate touch, provoking another sigh and a more visible shudder.

Sherlock was now torn between the desire to protest and the urge to simply close his eyes and let himself be carried away by that touch, as unusual and delicate as it was tranquilizing.

"Are you more relaxed?"

"I'm more... distracted, which I imagine was your goal from the beginning"

"Exactly. Sometimes, the best antidote to monotony isn't a riddle," William said, now holding and massaging the other foot. "It's remembering that you can still be surprised"

This time, Sherlock didn't answer, only closed his eyes, allowing himself a rare moment of silence and surrender.

William's fingers worked deftly on his left foot, exploring points of tension and relaxing the muscles. But gradually, the rhythm began to change, the pressure lessened, giving way to softer, almost too light touches.

Sherlock frowned, his closed eyes tightening even more. "Liam... what exactly are you doing?"

"Nothing more than the massage I promised" He replied, his voice too calm, the corners of his lips curving into a restrained smile.

But Sherlock soon knew something was different. The touches no longer seemed therapeutic, they were subtle, unsteady, almost playful, and were concentrating precisely below his toes. He let out an involuntary spasm and pulled his leg back slightly, but William held it firmly, though still gently.

His red eyes gleamed with something between curiosity and mischief. "I found this area particularly sensitive" William commented. "Perhaps we should explore it more thoroughly"

"L-Liam..."

"Yes?" He gave a cynical smile.

Before Sherlock could protest, his fingers began to move more lightly, tracing small circles and quick lines. He shuddered and let out a laugh that he immediately tried to stifle. "Hahahahahaha! Liam! That's childish!"

"And yet, effective"

Sherlock reflexively pressed the sole of his foot against the ground, biting his lip as he tried to contain another reaction. But William seemed delighted with the discovery, his touches now becoming more provocative, small rhythmic scratches with his fingertips, alternating between the arch and the toes.

"Hahahahahahahaha! Hey! You're having fun with this!"

"I'm absolutely fascinated" William said, now laughing genuinely, though more restrainedly. "You, the most analytical and rational man in London, affected by something as banal and irrational as tickling"

Sherlock tried to kick lightly, but William caught his ankle with calculated ease, keeping the sole of his foot exposed. The struggle between irritation and laughter was increasingly reflected on Sherlock's face, who closed his eyes in an effort to maintain self-control. "If you keep doing this, I swear—" He managed to say between laughs.

"Swear what, Sherly? Are you going to laugh at me or deduce my next move?" William said, now tracing his toes.

This elicited another contortion from Sherlock and a short, muffled laugh, as if he were being defeated by his own body. "Hahahahahahaha! Stop it!"

Finally, William slowly backed away, still smiling. "Boredom duly eliminated?"

Sherlock, breathless and with flushed cheeks, threw his arm over his eyes. "I'll never forgive you for that" He grumbled.

"Yes, you will. When the next case is as boring as lukewarm tea, you'll remember this moment with gratitude"

Sherlock sighed, but a slight smile escaped from under his arm. "Detestable... but effective" He said softly.

William smiled, still holding his ankle as he stepped back slightly, just enough to observe him. Sherlock had rested his arm over his eyes, trying to compose himself, but his chest still rose and fell with the remnants of laughter. The tips of his ears and his cheeks were slightly flushed.

That... fascinated William.

It was rare to see Sherlock disarmed. He was, most of the time, a wall of logic, sarcasm, and deliberate coldness. But now, for something as simple and human as tickling, he reacted with true, raw, almost innocent emotions.

William tilted his head, his red eyes fixing on his feet as if he had just discovered a secret piece in a complex puzzle. "Curious..." He murmured, more to himself than to the other.

"What is it now?" Sherlock's voice came out somewhat muffled.

"You" William smiled slightly. "The way he desperately tried to maintain control even when it had already slipped from his grasp"

"That's completely irrelevant" Sherlock adjusted himself, trying to regain his usual posture. "But now that your charade is over, perhaps I can—"

But he couldn't finish the sentence, as William ran his index finger with a provocative slowness across the center of the sole of his still-exposed foot, this time with more firmness.

Sherlock immediately flinched, letting out a short, surprised, almost nervous laugh. "Liam... d-don't you dare..." He stared at him, swallowing hard.

"Ah, but now I really want to understand better" He said, with a playful glint in his eyes. "There's a pattern here, a language your body reveals even when your mind wants to hide it"

And then he continued, more incisive this time, his fingers now more active and firm, beginning to explore purposefully. His fingers glided rhythmically along every point of Sherlock's sole, first the heel, then the center, then the arch, and finally the toes, alternating between lighter touches and precise pressures, studying every reaction, every spasm, every stifled laugh, every frustrated attempt to disguise it.

"L-Liahahahahaham! No, no! Stop it!" Sherlock tried, but he was already secretly giving in. "This isn't fair ahahahahahahahahaha!"

"Not everything in life is fair, Sherly" He retorted, clearly amused. "Especially when it comes to such an... intriguing discovery"

Sherlock was now truly writhing, trying to pull his foot back, but William held him firmly in control, never forcing, but enough to dominate the situation.

"You're a sadist" Sherlock gasped, with an involuntary laugh that stubbornly threatened to grow.

"And you are delightfully more human and sensitive than you pretend to be"

Sherlock finally chuckled, defeated, throwing his head back on the sofa. "Are you satisfied with your experiment?" He said, after nearly dying of laughter.

William gently released his foot and moved a little closer, resting his hands on the detective's knees, now visibly exhausted, but with a rare gleam in his eyes. "I'm still processing the results" His voice was now lower, more intimate. "But I must admit, seeing you like this was one of the most enchanting sights I've ever had"

Sherlock, still breathless, raised his blue eyes to him suspiciously. "This won't become a habit"

William just smiled. "Of course not. Unless you start complaining too much about your cases again"

Sherlock nudged him lightly with his foot, the same one William had tortured moments before, and they both laughed.

At that moment, no crime in the world seemed more urgent than the comfortable silence they shared.

However, that silence lasted too long. Sherlock spent the next two days in apparent serenity, no complaints about the cases, no bored escapes to the sofa, no acidic comments. William, as expected, immediately became suspicious.

That evening, in the Baker Street apartment, the detective prepared tea with almost ceremonial precision. His movements were too smooth for someone who usually moved with haste and impatience.

William watched him from the armchair, his eyes half-closed in analysis and suspicion. "You've been calm and controlled for too long, Sherly" He commented casually.

Sherlock turned around with the tray in his hands and a smile on his lips. "How rude, Liam"

A few minutes later, William found himself comfortably seated on the sofa, with Sherlock beside him, very close, close enough for anyone else to assume an intimate conversation. The tea was forgotten on the coffee table.

"You seem tense today" He said, his voice calm, almost gentle. "Perhaps I should allow myself to return the favor from the other night"

William raised an eyebrow. "Are you offering to massage me?"

"Something like that" And with that, Sherlock leaned in, surprising him by firmly grasping his ankle and sliding his hand down his lower leg.

William allowed it, calm and curious.

Sherlock, meticulous, began with gentle touches, mimicking the same technique he had received, but it was only the beginning of his revenge. In a few minutes, his fingers moved more quickly, searching for the points where involuntary reactions usually occurred.

However, nothing.

William watched him as one analyzes an intriguing spectacle. His expression remained serene and his body relaxed, not a single muscle reacted.

"Hm" Sherlock narrowed his eyes and redoubled his efforts. Now he explored the toes, the side of the ankle, even the top of the foot. He touched the ball with agility, with insistence, but William's calculated coldness didn't break.

"Disappointed?" He asked, in an almost provocative tone.

"You're made of marble!" Sherlock muttered, dropping his foot and leaning back, frustrated.

William smiled, leaning slightly, his eyes fixed on the other man. "Now that you've confirmed you can't hit me the same way, I think it's fair to return the favor"

Sherlock's eyes widened, too late. William had already gently pushed him against the sofa, mounting him. Before the detective could protest, he felt William's hands slide under his shirt.

"W-Wait, Liam, no!" But the fingers were quick to find his ribs and the reaction was immediate, he arched involuntarily, a muffled laugh escaping his throat. "Hahahahahahahaha!"

"Ah... here, then" William murmured, with the concentration of someone discovering a vital point. And there he began to truly explore. His fingers danced between the ribs, descending along the side of the belly, provoking spasms, suppressed laughter, and incomplete sentences.

"S-Stop it! Hahahahahaha! That's... unfahahahahahahair! Unfair!" Sherlock chuckled, trying to grab his hands, which moved with controlled and meticulous speed.

"Of course it is. But look, now you're in my hands" William shifted, moving the fingers of one hand to the back of Sherlock's neck, tracing slow circles, then quick ones, just below the hairline.

The detective tried to shrug, but he was already defeated again. "This is humiliating" He managed to say between laughs.

"No, this is cute" William smiled, his other hand finding its way to his armpit.

"W-WAIT! HAHAHAHAHAHA! NO, NO HAHAHAHAHA!" Sherlock arched away.

"Shhh, not so loud, Sherly, the neighbors will complain again" William smiled, maliciously this time, placing both hands there.

"YOU SCOUNDREL! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP IT!"

The touches continued, now calmer, almost affectionate, fingers sliding along the collarbone, across the abdomen, as if marking territory. William watched him with a mixture of admiration and restrained desire, enchanted by that rare, intimate, human vulnerability.

"Have you finished torturing me?" Sherlock murmured dramatically, his face turned to the side, his hair disheveled, his cheeks flushed, and his breath ragged.

William smiled. "For now" He lay down beside the detective, his hand still resting on his waist, feeling his breathing gradually calm down.

And there, in the silence that followed, they both knew that this game of teasing was far from over.

[alinatk]

Tickles (DaiHaru)

Fandom: Fugou Keiji Balance Unlimited Characters: Daisuke Kambe | Haru Kato Lee!Haru Ler!Daisuke Summary: Haru is in a bad mood, and Daisuke wants to solve the problem. Guided by logic, statistics, and his artificial butler, he puts into practice an unconventional method to relieve his boyfriend's stress, with surprisingly effective results. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn´t belong to me, I found it on Pinterest)

Haru sank further into the sofa, crossing his arms and letting out a heavy sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire Modern Crimes Department. His feet were resting on Daisuke's lap, who was trying to read a report, but his boyfriend's grumpy expression caught his attention more than anything else in that document.

The apartment was silent, except for the TV which was showing some generic police show that Haru insisted on watching to relax, which, in Daisuke's opinion, made absolutely no sense.

Daisuke blinked, studying his face. "Haru? Your expression indicates 87% irritation and 13% tiredness" He said, with the naturalness of someone simply citing market data.

"Huh?" Haru turned his face away grumpily. "You don't need analysis and percentages to realize that, Daisuke. I'm just tired"

Daisuke hesitated. He wasn't good with this sort of thing. Emotional problems didn't come with an instruction manual. But, luckily, he had a butler who came. So, he discreetly touched the small device attached to his ear. "HEUSC, suggestions on how to help Haru relax?"

The answer came without delay, with the same impeccable politeness as always.

"Certainly, Mr. Daisuke. Based on behavioral research and common patterns of intimacy between couples, an effective suggestion would be to apply light tactile stimuli, known as tickling. It's a recreational activity, low-risk, and potentially beneficial for the partner's mood."

Daisuke blinked. Twice. "Tickles?"

"Exactly, Sir."

"Is that scientific?"

"There are several studies—"

"Okay, okay, enough. I don't want to hear academic papers about tickling"

But the idea lingered. He looked at Haru again. The messy hair, the furrowed brow, and that "I want to be left alone" posture, exactly the kind of posture that, in Daisuke's peculiar mind, seemed like an invitation for intervention. He noticed something else: Haru's feet were right there, conveniently exposed and comfortably resting in his lap.

Haru noticed his gaze and furrowed his brow further. "What? Why are you staring at me like that?"

"I'm mentally analyzing a possibility"

"That's never good..."

Without saying anything more, Daisuke put the report aside and, with the indecent calm of someone about to commit a crime, gently slid his finger along the sole of Haru's foot. And the result was immediate.

"H-Hey!" Haru almost kicked him, grabbing the cushion beside him. "What do you think you're doing?!"

"Testing a hypothesis," He replied, completely calm, while repeating the movement. "HEUSC said this might improve your mood"

"A-Are you following your robot butler's advice on how to deal with me?"

"He's a highly reliable system"

"Daisuke!"

Daisuke did it again, this time using more fingers, exploring the entire sole of his foot. Haru squirmed and bit his lip to keep from laughing, but failed miserably when a sound escaped. "Nghh! S-Stohohohohohop it!"

"Your resistance is admirable, Haru" Daisuke observed with a slight smile. "But statistically useless"

"I'm going to kill you...!" Haru tried to pull his legs back, but Daisuke held them gently, without hurting him, just enough to prevent his escape.

"Your expression has changed" He commented, satisfied. "You seem less tense"

"That's because you're torturing me, you lunatic millionaire!" Haru retorted, half laughing, half indignant.

Daisuke tilted his head. "Torturing? I'd say it's just an experimental therapeutic intervention"

"T-That's not therapy! It's-no, no! Not there! Hahahahahahahahaha!" A quick attack on his toes elicited a genuine laugh from Haru, loud, spontaneous, and completely involuntary. Daisuke watched him with an expression that was almost gentle, as if he were watching a rare sunset.

When Haru finally managed to pull his feet back, panting and flushed, he threw a pillow at Daisuke. "You... you're unbearable!"

"But your mood has improved" Daisuke observed. "HEUSC was right"

Haru covered his face with his hands, still smiling. "I can't believe I'm dating this"

Daisuke simply approached, leaning in to touch his shoulder. "Haru, if you're tired, I can spend the rest of the night taking care of you"

Haru looked away, still blushing. "Just don't try to tickle me again"

"No promises" Daisuke replied, with that provocative and unreadable smile.

Haru sighed, but this time, without any bad mood, hugging the pillow again as if it were an anti-Kambe shield.

Daisuke, for his part, seemed too thoughtful. Which was never a good sign.

Haru quickly noticed the analytical gaze fixed on him. "What is it now?" He asked, suspiciously. "Why are you looking at me like I'm an experiment?"

"Haru," Daisuke said calmly, crossing his hands in his lap. "The intervention's effectiveness exceeded expectations"

"Intervention... Daisuke, speak like a normal person, please"

"The tickling worked"

"I noticed!" Haru protested. "And it's not going to happen again. I'm not a laughter laboratory for you to test on"

Daisuke frowned slightly, as if he'd heard a challenge, not a refusal. "HEUSC," He called, this time without even trying to disguise it. "Are there other points on the human body with a high probability of generating similar reactions?"

"Certainly, Mr. Daisuke. Neck, armpits, ribs, stomach, waist, thighs, knees, tend to be especially sensitive—"

"Enough!" Haru interrupted, covering his ears. "Don't finish! Don't give him ideas, HEUSC!"

"As you wish, Sir Haru."

Daisuke touched his chin, clearly processing the information nonetheless.

Haru's eyes widened. "Daisuke... no"

"I'm just considering," He said with an almost offensive serenity. "the therapeutic potential"

"No...!"

"Haru, you smiled. That's important"

The silence that followed was short, broken by an almost imperceptible movement of Daisuke leaning to the side, bringing his hand closer to Haru's waist.

Haru's eyes widened. "D-Don't even think about it!" He said, trying to move away.

Daisuke not only thought it, but acted on it. With the precision of an expert, he leaned in and dragged two fingers along Haru's waist, pressing lightly, just a test, as he would say.

The result was instantaneous. Haru squirmed, trying to push the hand away while laughing involuntarily. "Hahahahahaha! No!"

Daisuke observed with satisfaction. "Interesting. Faster reaction than on the feet"

"This isn't a report, it's my body!"

Haru tried to stand up, but Daisuke followed him with devilish calm, sliding his hand to his ribs, another point on the list he clearly memorized.

"Hahahahahahahaha! Daisuke, please—!"

"The emotional response is quite intense" He commented, while Haru practically threw himself back on the sofa to escape. "I didn't imagine you were so sensitive"

"YOU ARE UNBEARABLE!"

Daisuke smiled, a rare, almost childlike smile, he couldn't deny he was enjoying teasing his boyfriend. "That's debatable"

He slid his hand down Haru's waist again, but Haru, desperate, grabbed his wrist, laughing, panting, red from his forehead to his neck. "Enough, enoughahahahaha! I give up!" Haru pleaded. "I'll fall off the couch if you keep going!"

Daisuke finally stopped, leaning back with an indecent elegance for someone who had just committed a tickle attack.

Haru leaned back on the couch, catching his breath, throwing the pillow over his face to hide his embarrassment. "I can't believe it" He muttered. "You actually heard the HEUSC!"

"It worked again" Daisuke said, satisfied. "The irritation rate on your face decreased by 63%"

Haru sighed loudly, pulling the pillow down just enough to look Daisuke in a death glare. "You're not going to repeat that!"

Daisuke raised an eyebrow. "Promising that would be... statistically improbable"

"DAISUKE!"

He smiled, that slight, small smile, almost impossible to see, but which always appeared only for Haru. "But, if you want, I can simply stay here, without any more tests"

Haru took a deep breath, finally letting out a tired smile. "That's fine"

Daisuke approached, putting his arm around Haru's shoulder. Haru leaned in, still suspicious, still alert.

"And... thank you.." Haru murmured, almost inaudibly.

Daisuke turned his face away. "No need to thank me"

"Yes, I need it. Because in your strange way you tried to help me"

Daisuke hesitated. "If it was useful, I can continue searching for effective methods"

Haru opened one eye alertly again. "Just avoid the 'effective methods' for today, okay?"

Daisuke gave a small nod. "That's all for today"

Haru narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to regret this, right?"

"Yes, the probability is very high"

[alinatk]

Tickles (GinRan)

Fandom: Bleach Characters: Ichimaru Gin | Rangiku Matsumoto Lee!Gin Ler!Rangiku Summary: Leaving the Soul Society behind also means learning to let their guard down. As the world slows down around them, Rangiku and Gin allow themselves a rare moment of peace, filled with playful teasing and an intimacy built over years. Between tickles and restrained laughter, a kind of relaxation is born that neither of them finds anywhere else. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest)

The sun filtered gently through the windows of the house in Karakura where Rangiku and Gin spent most of their time since leaving the Soul Society behind, or at least giving themselves a well-deserved rest from it. The afternoon was quiet, lazy, and everything conspired to make that day have no other purpose than relaxation.

Rangiku was sprawled on the futon, her hair loose and a half-empty sake cup in her hand. Gin, as always, maintained his half-smile on his face, lying on his back with one leg crossed over the other, but still, he didn't seem relaxed.

"You should stop being so tense, Gin, even when you're not doing anything" She commented, glancing sideways, observing how his muscles still seemed ready for action.

"Hmm... I'm just like that, Rangiku" He murmured, his eyes half-closed but clearly alert. "Always on guard"

"Maybe it's because you never let anyone take proper care of you" She said, scooting over to him.

Gin chuckled softly, that muffled sound that always made her stomach churn a little, even though she wouldn't admit it. Before he could say anything, she was already sitting at his feet, gently tugging at one of his ankles.

"What are you doing?" He asked, his voice with that falsely innocent tone but with a hint of curiosity.

"Massage. Be quiet for a moment, okay?" And without giving him time to protest, she began to firmly squeeze his toes, then slid her thumbs along the soles.

For a moment, everything went well, Gin seemed about to doze off. But then, she noticed an involuntary spasm. "Hm?" She looked at him with arched eyebrows. "You...?"

"Tsk" He turned his face away, feigning disinterest. "It's nothing"

She did it again, lighter now, almost like a stroke, just to test it. His foot visibly twitched, his lips pressed together, but the corners of his mouth were already trembling.

"Ah, Gin..." Rangiku spoke, in a tone of someone discovering a precious secret, a mischievous smile spreading across her lips. "Are you ticklish?"

"No" He retorted, too quickly.

She didn't answer. She simply grasped his ankle with one hand and, with the other, began to lightly slide the tips of her nails along the sole of his foot.

Gin flinched, trying to break free, his smile finally opening into something more genuine, almost a laugh. "R-Rangiku..."

"It's too late now" She said, relentlessly tracing his sole, alternating light touches with subtle pressure. "You've been hiding this from me all this time?"

Gin finally let out a laugh, pulling his leg away in a sudden movement, but she held on tight. His shoulders trembled and his body contorted, in a clear effort not to give in, already defeated. "Hahahahahaha! You're cruel, Rangiku..."

"You have no idea.." She leaned forward, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And now that I know, this is just the beginning"

"Hahahahahaha! W-Wait!" Gin tried to compose himself, but his expression was softened, free from his usual mask. Behind the restrained giggles, there was something rare there: comfort, surrender.

Rangiku slowed down, letting only her fingers lightly brush against the middle of his sole. "Hey," She said more softly. "I bet no one has ever seen you really laugh, right?"

"Only you, now" He replied, with a look that was both affectionate and teasing.

She smiled back, her hand still resting on his ankle, as if she wanted to cherish that moment, where he was vulnerable and where she knew him like no one else. "It's good to know you have weaknesses too"

"Only when you're around"

That response still echoed as Rangiku leaned a little closer to Gin's body, resting her chin on his chest, her eyes half-closed with that mixture of affection and pure mischief. "You should be more careful when you say things like that to me" She murmured, her voice slightly drawn out. "It just gives me ideas"

Gin kept smiling, but opened his eyes just enough to meet hers. A flicker of something between alertness and surrender passed through his gaze. "Ideas, huh?" He said. "This never ends well for me"

"Depends on your perspective" And with that, she settled herself on top of him, slowly sliding her fingers along his chest, moving to his ribcage with light touches. Gin's body stiffened subtly, and she noticed. "Ah, so it's not just the feet, huh?"

"Rangiku..." He warned, but there was no real firmness in his voice, it was more of a plea. And that, to her, was more of an invitation than a limit.

She settled more comfortably on top of him, now practically straddling his waist, and began tracing paths with her nails, first around his ribs, then below them, Gin holding his breath, clearly trying to maintain control. She then slid her fingers to the lower part of his armpits, very lightly.

It was there that he arched, letting out a stifled laugh through clenched teeth. "Hahahahahaha! N-No!"

"Ah, I liked that reaction"

"I told you you were cruel" He whispered, now with an amused glint in his eye, even while struggling not to squirm too much beneath her.

"And you're deliciously sensitive" She replied, leaning over him and whispering in his ear. "Is it here too?" She began to gently trace the curve of his neck, alternating with small bites and tickles with the tip of her nose.

Gin shuddered, a muffled sound escaping, half laugh, half sigh. "Hey-hahahahaha! Y-You're not going to stop, are you?"

"Now that I've found out you laugh? No way!" She laughed along, her body swaying with the lightness of someone completely at ease. "I deserve this, for all the times you teased me with that 'I know more than I say' face" She then slid her fingers down the sides of his stomach, until she reached his waistline, where he reacted more intensely, arching his back.

"R-Rangiku...! Hahahahahaha! Please!" Gin exclaimed, his voice trembling between laughter and trying to control the spasms.

"There it is," She said victoriously. "Your weakest spot"

"Y-You're going to kill me hahahahahaha!"

"No, no, just keep you laughing for a few more minutes"

Gin tried to hold her wrists, but Rangiku simply leaned in and lightly kissed his chin, her fingers still tracing his waist with calculated precision.

"That's not fair!" He said, now laughing freely, his eyes wide and bright, more disarmed than ever.

"Of course it is, you're mine" She retorted softly, resting her head on his chest, finally ceasing the tickling and only listening to the accelerated rhythm of his heart. "I love seeing you like this, defenseless, truly laughing"

Gin wrapped his arm around her shoulders, stroking her hair as a comforting silence spread through the room. "Promise you won't tell anyone that the dreaded Gin Ichimaru is ticklish?"

"Only if you promise to let me play with it whenever you want"

He smiled against the strands of her hair. "Ohh besides being cruel, she's a blackmailer..."

And there, amidst laughter, teasing, and an affection that needed no words, the two found a rare and precious kind of peace and, finally, relaxation.

[alinatk]

Tickles (SaneGiyuu)

Fandom: Demon Slayer Characters: Sanemi Shinazugawa | Tomioka Giyuu Lee!Sanemi Ler!Tomioka Summary: After relentless training, Tomioka realizes that Sanemi is pushing himself too far once again. Determined to put him to rest, he ends up discovering a more vulnerable, and unexpectedly sensitive, side of the Wind Hashira. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest)

The sun was setting behind the mountains, tinging the sky a soft orange. Inside the small wooden house, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed on the tatami mat. Sanemi threw punches at the air and at targets, his feet firm, his body sweaty, the bandages on his forearms and hands damp with sweat and a little blood. The floor almost seemed to tremble with each movement.

Leaning against the door frame, Tomioka watched him, initially in silence. "You'll break the floor if you keep going like that" He said, with his typical serene expression.

Sanemi stopped, panting, glancing over his shoulder. "I'm training, I'm not hurting anyone"

"Except you" He retorted, his gaze falling on the bandages.

"Damn it, Giyuu..." Sanemi huffed, grabbing a towel and wiping his face. "I'm fine"

Tomioka approached calmly, his light steps contrasting with Sanemi's raw, heavy energy. "Your feet have blisters again, I saw when you took off your shoes yesterday"

"Tsk... It's nothing" He grumbled, looking away. "Do you want me to just stand there now?"

"No, I just want you to rest a little" Tomioka replied, sitting on the tatami and looking at Sanemi with his usual tranquility, but visibly firmer, like a silent order.

The silence dragged on for a few seconds, until Sanemi muttered something incomprehensible and sat down beside him, stretching his legs somewhat reluctantly. "This is ridiculous" He murmured, but didn't protest when Tomioka gently pulled one of his feet. He touched the heel carefully, his fingers gliding precisely and firmly along the sole.

Sanemi's tense expression wavered for a moment. "Tch... That tickles, damn it" He squirmed slightly, frowning.

"I thought you were tough" Tomioka said, without apparent emotion, but with a slight raised eyebrow. "A Hashira, sensitive to tickling on his feet?"

Sanemi narrowed his eyes. "Are you making fun of me?"

"Just commenting" He said, impassive, but with a discreet, amused glint in his eye.

Tomioka continued, with careful movements, exploring the points of tension. Sanemi relaxed little by little, although he tried to maintain his tough facade. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, it was habitual, filled with small expressions, restrained sighs, and the occasional sigh of relief from Sanemi, even if reluctant.

"...You do this very well" He admitted, half-grubbing, as if he hated every word.

"I know" Tomioka replied simply.

"Conceited."

"Just realistic"

Sanemi let out a short, low, hoarse laugh. It was rare, but it happened, and Tomioka seemed to quiet down even more when he heard it. "Okay, okay... But if you tell anyone I let you do this, I'll kill you" He murmured, his eyes half-closed, clearly surrendering to the touch.

Tomioka tilted his head slightly. "Then I'll keep this just between us. But tomorrow, you rest all day. No training"

"No fucking way—" Sanemi started, but stopped when he felt his fingers trace a sensitive spot on the arch of his foot. "Argh... Okay, okay! One day, just one!"

Tomioka nodded. That was all he needed for now.

A few minutes passed, Sanemi was almost dozing off, his shoulders finally relaxed, when he felt Tomioka's fingers slide again along the arch of his foot, this time more slowly, too lightly to be just a simple massage. "Hey.." He murmured, his eyes opening in alertness.

Tomioka didn't respond immediately, continuing the movement, as if he were just experimenting, the touch now less precise and more curious.

"G-Giyuu"

"Hm?"

"This isn't a massage" Sanemi said, frowning, but with a slight blush rising to his neck.

"No" Tomioka admitted, with his usual calm.

"Ahhhahahaha! I-It's tickling me!" Sanemi squirmed, trying to pull his foot back, but Tomioka held his ankle firmly, still with that impassive face. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" He said through gritted teeth.

"Maybe a little" He replied, his voice serene, but now with the corners of his mouth slightly raised. He ran his fingers along the length of the sole, exploring lightly, as if mapping the sensitivity there.

Sanemi shook himself, biting his lip to keep from laughing out loud. "Hahahahahaha! S-Stop it, you bastahahahahahahard!" He tried to kick with his other foot, without success.

"Language" Tomioka warned. "You're always so serious, so explosive" He continued, still softly. "Seeing you like this is rare and... interesting"

"Interesting my ass!" Sanemi exploded, trying not to laugh, but it was inevitable. "Hahahahaha! Damn it, Giyuu! S-Stop thahahahahahahat!"

"What did I just say about language?" Tomioka finally looked directly at him, his eyes brighter than usual. "You look handsome when you laugh" He said simply.

Sanemi froze for a moment, caught off guard, the heat rising in his cheeks all at once, and he turned his face away. "...You're an idiot" He murmured, too quietly to be firm. "A sneaky idiot"

"Maybe" Tomioka replied, finally letting go of the foot, but not before giving one more slight tease, just to hear another muffled laugh from Sanemi.

Sanemi fell back onto the tatami mat, panting, one arm covering his eyes. "If you tell anyone about this, I swear I'll throw you off that mountain" He pointed.

"Nobody would believe" Tomioka replied, lying down beside him with the same serenity.

The comforting silence returned, with the last rays of sunlight fading through the window. This time, both relaxed, breathing together, as if the world outside had finally stopped for a moment.

[alinatk]

Tickles (Odazai)

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs Characters: Osamu Dazai | Sakunosuke Oda Lee!Dazai Ler!Oda Summary: In a rare moment of peace away from the Port Mafia, Dazai and Oda share a simple life, until a casual conversation reveals a mysterious "torture method" used by Oda. Curious, Dazai demands a demonstration and, not only realizes that the calmest man in the underworld has a surprisingly provocative side, but also realizes that he is his new favorite victim. [Read also on Ao3] Notes (and spoiler):  I understand the criticism surrounding this "ship," which is the characters' ages. It's worth remembering that in some flashbacks in the anime, Dazai was 16, but when Oda died, he was already 18. This is an alternate history, so I'm considering a context where Oda is still alive, which is why Dazai is already of legal age.

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest)

The sound of light rain hitting the windows filled the comfortable silence of the apartment. Dazai was sprawled on the sofa, flipping through an old magazine that clearly didn't interest him. His distracted gaze occasionally strayed to Oda, who was talking on his cell phone in the kitchen, his tone calm but firm.

"If they don't want to eat the vegetables, tell them they'll have to deal with Port Mafia-style torture."

A brief pause was followed by a soft sigh.

"No, it's nothing serious. Just say that, trust me."

Dazai immediately raised an eyebrow curiously, leaning forward to peer around the door frame. "Oda, did you just threaten innocent children with... Port Mafia torture?" He asked with a mischievous smile. "Have you been feeling nostalgic, or is this just a new pedagogical tactic?"

Oda calmly hung up his cell phone, returning to the living room with his hands in his pockets. "It was just the nanny. The kids were fussing about dinner"

"And you thought it was a good idea to evoke the psychological terror of your time in the Mafia?" Dazai laughed, tossing the magazine aside. "So? What secret method is this? I'm curious now"

Oda crossed his arms, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Are you sure you want to know?"

"Oh, please, I worked with you for years in the Mafia, nothing surprises me anymore" Dazai said, closing his eyes and spreading his arms in a theatrical surrender, as if ready to receive a fatal attack. "Do your worst, is this something that will kill me, by any chance?" He smiled at the possibility.

That was his cue. In a second, Oda approached with steps too calm and silent for Dazai to notice and then, with surprising precision, dug his fingers into the sides of his waist.

"Hey! What are you—ahhhahahaha, Oda!" He nearly jumped off the couch, trying to push away Oda's nimble hands, which were now attacking him with meticulously calculated tickles, first on his waist, then sliding down his ribs. "Is this the dreaded torture method?" He managed between laughs.

"It's working, isn't it?" Oda said with the most absurd calm in the world, even as he continued the attack, now aiming for his armpits, just to see the reaction intensify.

"Hahahahahaha! Stop, stahahahahahahap! That's not fair! Hahahahahaha! You're too serious to use that kind of tactic!"

"That's exactly why it works" Oda retorted, finally stopping and leaving Dazai slumped on the couch, his face flushed, panting, and his eyes watering from laughter.

For a moment, they were silent, but Dazai, catching his breath, turned to face him with an amused smile. "You're a very well-disguised demon, you know that?"

Oda settled in beside him. "And you should think twice before asking to 'see for yourself' next time" He smiled.

"Okay, fair enough, but I think I deserve some kind of compensation for this attack on my physical and moral integrity" Dazai said dramatically, lying down on the sofa.

Oda stared at him with his head slightly tilted. "Would you like me to cook something?"

"Hmm... no. My life energy was drained by cruel fingers, so I need something more therapeutic" He said, then stretched his feet out toward him with the most begging and dramatic expression possible. "A foot massage, please"

Oda arched an eyebrow. "You sound like I've beaten you"

"Almost, you attacked my soul"

Letting out a sigh with a hint of amusement, Oda took one of his feet and began to press gently, his thumbs moving along the entire length of the sole. For a few moments, everything went smoothly, until a small shiver ran through Dazai's body.

"Nnh!" He exclaimed.

Oda stopped, watching, and did it again, tracing his thumb lightly over the arch of his foot. Dazai immediately flinched and stifled a giggle.

"You're kidding" He said, and for the first time that day, he smiled with a little more than just the corner of his mouth. "Your feet are ticklish too?"

"N-No! I just... it's a very delicate area, you know? Full of nerve endings..." Dazai tried to argue, slowly pulling his foot away.

But Oda held firm. "Interesting. Very interesting."

"Don't you dare..."

But it was too late. As calm as ever, Oda slid his fingers across the sole of Dazai's foot with cruel precision.

The effect was instantaneous, he choked on laughter, kicked the air, and grabbed a cushion as a shield. "S-Stohohohohohop! Hahahahahaha! This is a double betrayal!"

"I'm just exploring alternative relaxation therapy methods" Oda countered, impassive, alternating between light touches on the arch and toes, where Dazai's most vulnerable points seemed to be, judging by the half-laughing cries and desperate moans escaping him.

"S-Stahahahahahahap! I don't trust you anymore! Hahahahahahaha!" He shook himself, trying to free his leg.

"Wise decision" Oda replied with a slight smile, continuing for just a few more seconds, long enough to see Dazai squirm and almost slip off the couch like a fish out of water.

Finally, he stopped, gently releasing his foot. Dazai lay there, panting, his hair disheveled, staring at the ceiling as if he'd been through a battle.

"You're ridiculously calm for someone who just committed crimes against another citizen's human rights" He murmured.

Oda just watched him with that calm, almost tender gaze. "I told you it was an effective method. The children behave much better after that"

"I'll behave too, if it means you'll never come near my feet again"

"Well, you were the one who offered them to me" Oda smiled mischievously, making him recoil in fear of another attack. "No promises"

Dazai muttered something inaudible, but still, he reached out his arm, pulling him closer. "Okay, but if you're going to torture me like this, then stay here until I fall asleep"

Oda smiled softly, snuggling into him as he let his fingers run through Dazai's brown hair, this time with extreme gentleness. "The only torture I'll allow now is keeping you around"

[alinatk]

Tickles (SouRin)

Fandom: Free! Characters: Rin Matsuoka | Sousuke Yamazaki Lee!Sousuke Ler!Rin Summary: Rin just wanted to help Sousuke with the tension in his shoulder after surgery. What he didn't expect was to discover something capable of dismantling even his boyfriend's most serious facade and transforming a simple massage into a fun game of affection and care. [Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest)

Rin's apartment was quiet that night. The open window let in a warm summer breeze, bringing the distant scent of chlorine from the pool across the street.

Sousuke sat on the couch, his shirt half-open, a cooler bag forgotten beside him, his shoulders tense as ever. His post-surgery recovery was going well, slowly but steadily, and Rin had been following every step, sometimes more closely than Sousuke cared to admit.

Rin emerged from the kitchen with two bottles of water and tossed one to his friend, or rather, boyfriend, though they still stumbled a bit over the words. "You're tense again" He commented, his eyes fixed on his operated shoulder as he sat down beside him. "I bet you didn't do your stretches today"

Sousuke took the bottle, opened it, and took a sip without answering. "I'm fine" He said finally, without much conviction. "You don't have to worry all the time, Rin"

"I don't worry all the time!" Rin retorted, resting his elbows on his knees, leaning forward slightly. "I just think I can help. I can massage it to relieve the tension. It'll help with circulation, right? The physical therapist said that the other day"

Sousuke arched an eyebrow and let out a dry laugh. "You listening to the physical therapist's advice? That's new"

Rin grimaced and punched him lightly in the thigh. "Shut up and turn around"

Sousuke hesitated for a moment, his eyes darting to the side, but finally sighed and complied, pulling his shirt off his shoulders and turning back onto the couch. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, while Rin positioned himself behind him.

With steady hands, Rin began to gently press the muscles around Sousuke's injured shoulder, avoiding the surgical site. He used his thumbs carefully, feeling the tension building beneath Sousuke's warm, still slightly stiff skin. "You're stiff as a rock, man" He murmured, focused. "You should let me do that more often"

Sousuke didn't respond immediately. His breathing was a little heavier, and the muscles beneath Rin's fingers twitched slightly with each deeper touch.

Rin lessened the pressure, sliding his fingers down to the base of his neck. That's when he noticed something curious. Sousuke gave a slight start, imperceptible to those unfamiliar with him, but he noticed. And most interestingly, he immediately held his breath, as if trying to avoid or disguise any reaction.

"Hm?" Rin narrowed his eyes, repeating the movement with his fingers, this time on purpose. "What was that?"

"Nothing" Sousuke replied, too quickly.

Rin stopped the massage for a moment, leaning in slightly to look sideways at him, the corner of his mouth lifting in a treacherous smile. "Wait a minute, Sousuke... You tensed up in a different way just now, that's not pain..." He tested another touch, very lightly, with his fingertips on his neck and the base of his neck, making Sousuke stiffen again. "That's ticklish"

"Rin..." His voice was low and hard, almost threatening, but the tone was more embarrassed than intimidating.

"I can't believe it..." Rin let out a low, almost incredulous laugh. "You, the guy who faces shoulder pain without complaint, who doesn't even wince with a needle, are sensitive to a touch here?"

Sousuke turned his face slightly, not looking at Rin, his ears starting to turn red. "It's not sensitive, it was just... unexpected" He murmured defensively.

"Oh, sure. Totally unexpected that you turned as red as a bell pepper" Rin gave him a light, teasing touch behind his ear, just to confirm the theory.

Sousuke shrugged and let out a muffled sound, half laughter, half frustration. "Rin, if you keep going, I swear..."

"Swear what? Are you going to threaten me with laughter?" Rin backed away, still smiling. "But I'll stop. I just wanted to confirm a scientific theory"

Sousuke turned back to him slightly, giving him a sharp look. "Scientific, huh?"

"Of course, field research" Rin rested his chin on his crossed arms on the back of the sofa, staring at him with an amused glint in his eyes. "And I discovered that even you have your weaknesses"

Sousuke rolled his eyes, but couldn't hide the small smile that crept into the corner of his mouth. "Just because you're helping me with my shoulder, I'll let this one slide"

Rin leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, smiling sincerely now. "Oh, okay... So, next time you refuse to rest, I have a secret weapon" He said, a victorious smile on his lips, his face still leaning against the back of the sofa.

Sousuke, despite his usual menacing air, let out a resigned sigh, one that, coming from him, meant something close to "you win for today." "You're insufferable" He murmured, the corner of his mouth still curling up in a rare genuine smile.

Rin straightened, settling behind him. His eyes still held that curious gleam of someone who hasn't finished the experiment. He placed a firm hand on Sousuke's good shoulder, the other slowly sliding down the side of his neck. "Just one more thing, for the sake of science"

Sousuke frowned, but didn't have time to react. Rin let his fingers run from his collarbone to the center of his chest, where they glided lightly, almost as if measuring the terrain.

Sousuke just pressed his lips together firmly. But Rin didn't give up, his fingers traced his chest, stopping at his ribs, and there came the reaction.

Sousuke gave a slight jolt, his back stiffening immediately, as if a shock had run down his spine. A muffled noise escaped his throat, it wasn't exactly a laugh, but a frustrated attempt to stifle one. "Ahh-hahaha! Stop it!"

Rin smiled triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"Rin..." His voice deepened, firmer, but still failed to sound convincing. "J-Just stohohohohohop"

"You can say it's just unexpected," He said, his fingers playing along his ribs and the side of his stomach. "But your body gives you away completely"

Sousuke tried to grab his wrist with both hands, but Rin had already pulled back, just enough to escape, moving nimbly and taking advantage of every hesitation. A hesitation that left his other side free, and in an unexpected movement, Rin's fingers found and plunged into his armpit. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO!"

"Ahh, look, that was a laugh" Rin smiled, moving the fingers of both hands up to there, amused by the way Sousuke flinched and tried to grab them.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! ENOUGHAHAHAHAHA!" Sousuke spoke, louder now, finally looking at him with a look of genuine warning, but even that was tinged with embarrassment, both in his expression and in the red on his cheeks.

"Ohh, who knew I'd hear you begging for a little tickling..." Rin scoffed, backing away.

"I just didn't expect you to be so childish" He gasped, trying to regain his composure.

Rin let out a light laugh, leaning back on the couch. "Not childish at all, this is high-level strategy. If you think I'm going to let that kind of information slip by, you're wrong. You'd better sleep with your eyes open"

Sousuke rubbed his face with a hand, as if trying to hide the stubborn blush that still lingered there. "You're a disaster"

"A disaster who knows your weak spot now"

There was a silence, the kind where the laughter has faded, but the heat still lingers in the air. Rin approached again, this time without tricks or provocations. He placed one hand on Sousuke's good shoulder and the other rested lightly on his thigh. His eyes were calm, but still amused. "You know I'm only doing this because you never let me take care of yourself" He said, his tone softer. "You always handle everything on your own, but now you can, I don't know, relax with me"

Sousuke finally turned fully, looking at Rin with a more sincere look. There was gratitude there, hidden beneath the layers of pride and reserve. "I know, I'm just not used to it"

"Then get used to it. Because if it's not a massage, it'll be a tickle" He moved his fingers in the air, as if about to attack him again.

Sousuke took a deep breath and pulled Rin by the collar of his shirt, pressing their foreheads together for a brief, intense second. "Do that again and see what happens"

Rin laughed, but then calmed down, snuggling against his chest, content. At least for now.

[alinatk]

Sherlock Between Reason and Tickles

Fandom: Moriarty The Patriot Characters: Sherlock Holmes | William James Moriarty Lee!Sherlock Ler!William Summary: The encounter between Sherlock Holmes and William James Moriarty could not be ordinary. Sherlock thought he was hunting the Lord of Crime, but it was he who was being hunted. Between philosophies, beliefs, and provocations, Moriarty's trap doesn't seek his death, but his compliance, and the confrontation will take an unusual form, where laughter will take over. [Read also on Ao3]

Inside the library of the Moriarty family's abandoned mansion in London, William James Moriarty studied the books on the dusty bookshelf, patiently awaiting his visitor. The lit candles cast long shadows, while the fire in the fireplace illuminated and warmed the room, revealing two armchairs positioned opposite each other, as if awaiting their hosts.

There was a light patter of rain outside and the crackling of a fire inside, but otherwise, silence. This silence was broken by the sound of a door creaking open, the lights soon revealing the silhouette of Sherlock Holmes, who quickly entered the room.

"William James Moriarty. William. Liam. Or should I say, Lord of Crime?" He asked, his tone a little more serious than usual.

Moriarty, now standing before the fireplace, did not turn around, watching the fire. "I was hoping it would be you, Holmes. No one but you would have cracked that last code" He said, referring to the coordinates he'd left for him at the end of a riddle.

Sherlock approached slowly, as if fearing a surprise attack, but never taking his eyes off his rival. "It wasn't difficult. In the end, all your crimes, all this 'social justice,' are nothing more than carefully constructed masks. Not to hide your identity, but to justify what you really are: a serial killer"

Moriarty turned with a slight smile, elegant, restrained, almost sad, and then moved to sit in one of the armchairs. "And you? A man who solves riddles and crimes, but never touches on the real problem" He gestured for Sherlock to sit down as well, continuing, "The rot of this country, the aristocracy immune to the law. You hunt criminals, Holmes, and I create them to destroy a much larger criminal system"

Sherlock approached, still slowly, still alert, but he accepted the invitation, sitting in the other chair, both of them face to face this time. "The law isn't perfect, but it's the only thing keeping the world from descending into chaos. You... You think you're a vigilante, but in the end, you're just creating another kind of tyranny, your own" He said, his blue eyes fixed on him.

Moriarty sighed, resting his chin on his hand. "The law isn't justice, Holmes. How many times have you seen a nobleman get away with it, while the poor suffer the consequences? I merely rebalance the scales. My crime is giving the people the power to punish the so-called untouchables"

"And your pleasure in this, Liam? How many of these "adjustments" involved too much bloodshed for a simple "noble cause"?" Sherlock asked, barely blinking.

"The difference between us is that I'm willing to get my hands dirty to change the world" He said, his voice rising slightly. "You hide behind morality because you're afraid of what you might become"

Sherlock looked away for the first time, his breathing becoming momentarily labored. "And you're so obsessed with your ideology that you've already lost your way. Have you ever killed out of true necessity rather than calculation?"

A short silence passed between them, the tension in the air almost palpable.

"You've always understood me, Holmes. That's why we're alike, that's why you persecute me" Moriarty continued.

Sherlock clenched his fists on the arms of his chair. "I persecute you because if I don't, no one else can"

"So, here we are, two sides of the same coin" Moriarty said with a melancholy smile. "You, the knight of logic, and I, the architect of chaos. But both ready to die for what we believe in, right?"

Another silence fell between them, but this time, it was Sherlock who broke it. "This doesn't end here. I'm going to get you, Liam"

"I know" Moriarty said, almost serene. "And that's exactly why I trust you to do it, when the time is right"

Sherlock gritted his teeth and clenched his fists again, staring at him for a moment longer before placing his palms on the armrests, ready to push himself up. No more words, just understanding, a certain complicity and opposition.

It was then that he heard the sharp sound of a mechanism being activated, leather straps immediately grabbing his wrists and pinning them to the chair. And he had activated it himself, damn it. "You planned all this, didn't you?"

Moriarty smiled, mentally thanking Herder for this little invention. "Naturally. You came here expecting answers, but I've always been waiting for this moment" He said, standing up to activate another device on the chair, which turned out to be a recliner.

Sherlock blinked, slightly surprised to find his feet raised on a new section of upholstery in front of him. "What's your plan? To eliminate me? Now that you know I'm too close?"

Moriarty smiled again. "Nothing so vulgar" He said, reaching for a bundle of rope as he tied Sherlock's ankles to the chair, leaving him in a position resembling an L, slightly more inclined.

Sherlock watched with restrained perplexity, pondering what the purpose of this was and William's next move. In the end, he had always been, and still was, one step behind him.

Moriarty, seeing his restrained but apparent confusion, continued speaking. "Sherlock, you're a genius, a mind as rare as mine. Eliminating you would be a waste, so I prefer something more... lasting. I want you to join me"

"Huh??!" Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because I know your mind and I know where it breaks" He said, sitting back down across from him, this time a little closer. "You need control, logic, but there's a part of you that fears losing that control. And that's where you come in, that's where I'll convince you"

"Where are you going with this, Liam?" Sherlock's eyes widened, watching him begin to remove his shoes. "I didn't expect you to resort to such a cowardly method" He said, tugging at the restraints on his wrists to indicate.

"On the contrary, I'm doing exactly what you would do if you cast logic aside. Look, Sherlock, what people don't understand is that laughter is a language, it's a primitive form of surrender" Moriarty smiled, tracing his index finger along his right sole, still covered by his sock.

Sherlock reacted immediately, the stimulus enough for him to knead the sole of his foot, moving it away. "This is ridiculous. You really think you can convince me with... tickling?"

"It's not just about that. It's about breaking the rigidity of your mind, about showing that even you, the man of absolute logic, are vulnerable to something so simple, so human, and so inevitable. But of course, it will also be enough to coerce and convince you" Moriarty said, trailing his fingertips slowly over the soles of his feet, a touch of recognition and observation.

Sherlock gritted his teeth, his body tense as he tried to contain himself, but he couldn't help but shiver. "T-This won't work" He said, trying to maintain his posture.

"Ah, but it's already working" Moriarty smiled. "The beauty of this is the unpredictability of the method" He commented, beginning to remove his socks.

Sherlock couldn't help but flex his newly freed feet a little, feeling even more vulnerable, as if preparing for what he knew was coming. Moriarty then began to finger him, his fingers gliding with more precision, starting at the heels.

"T-That's childish" Sherlock said through gritted teeth, the direct contact with the sole proving even more effective and difficult to ignore.

"And fascinating" He added, moving up to the middle of the sole.

The detective, to his own frustration, reacted more this time, his body jerking, and soon the first suppressed giggles began to escape. "W-Wahahahahahahait a minute!"

"Every laugh you suppress, every muscle you try to hold together is proof that your logic is but flimsy armor" Moriarty said, without pausing. "You can solve crimes, Sherlock, but you can't escape laughter" And as if to prove his point, he increased the speed and intensity of his movements, alternating between the middle of the sole and the arches of his feet.

"Ahahahahahahahaha! S-Stahahahahahap!" Sherlock exploded, struck hard by the change in approach, trying to pull his legs back. He figured William would explore him a little more first and not go straight for that more aggressive approach.

"There we go, the armor's finally broken, now we can really begin" Moriarty smiled, this time using an almost surgical method, varying between light touches, zigzag strokes, sharp strokes, and subtle, firmer pressure on different areas of the soles.

Sherlock squirmed, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to pull his legs back and strain against the chair's restraints. He tried to maintain control, but he found himself losing himself in laughter as the seconds passed. "Ahahahahahahaha! S-Stop, thihihihihihis isn't going to breheheheheheak me! Hahahahahahaha!"

"I don't want to break you, Sherlock. I just want you to understand that you can be free, far from the chains of reason... with me" He spoke, as if mentally jotting down information from a fascinating experiment.

"T-That's not going to happEHEHEHEHEHEN! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO!" Sherlock shook himself, immediately kneading his soles when he felt him tease his toes, preventing access.

Moriarty let out a short laugh. "Look at you... you're like an open book now" He said, grabbing his big toes and pulling them back, gaining access to dip his fingers into that sensitive spot.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! N-NO, WAIT!" Sherlock threw his head back in a frantic laugh, trying to formulate a response, but the tickling made any logical reasoning difficult. He could feel Liam teasing each of his toes, one at a time, focusing on the base and length, but it wasn't until he started dipping between the gaps that he completely lost control. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Y-YOU'RE COMPLETELY CRAZY! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Moriarty smiled, slowing his movements as he returned to running his fingers over his soles. "Maybe. But what if I told you that you are too? After all, you're here, alone with me. You wanted this as much as I did, Sherlock"

Sherlock couldn't deny that he was right, after all, when he received the riddle and began following the clues, he knew right away that it was the Lord of Crime. He could have alerted the police, set an ambush, but he chose to go there alone, as William had predicted, seeking answers. He just never imagined he would end up in a situation like that, trying to be tricked into joining the crime scene through tickling. He was forced to endure a few more moments of that torment, until William gave him a breather, probably having already finished his exploration.

Moriarty leaned back in his chair, watching Sherlock catch his breath, his chest rising and falling. He stared back, his gaze a mixture of anger, fascination, doubt, and something else... curious.

"You're insane.." Sherlock said, almost like a sigh.

"Am I really?" Moriarty smiled. "I think the great detective is just a mere mortal" He said, rising elegantly as he walked to a small desk in the corner of the library. There, among notebooks and dusty old papers, he picked up a simple object, a long white quill with a suitably pointed handle. "Feathers have always fascinated me. So delicate, yet capable of knocking a man off his axis with a single touch. What could be more symbolic than intelligence being overcome by something as light as the wind, Sherlock?"

Sherlock watched him with a mixture of incredulity and fascination, but behind his firm posture was something else, a nervous, alert glint. "Are you going to torture me with writing instruments now? A poetic touch, I admit, Liam" He said sarcastically, watching him slowly return, like a conductor returning to center stage.

"It's not torture, it's persuasion. The body never lies, and the mind yields more easily when laughter is inevitable" And so, Moriarty began to slide the feather across the exposed soles of his feet.

The touch was almost imperceptible, but precisely for that reason, it was devastating. Sherlock immediately tensed, his feet twitching and twitching slightly. "Tch... This is... ridiculous.." He said through gritted teeth.

"You thought this wouldn't affect you, didn't you?" Moriarty said, scrutinizing each reaction as if studying a map. "There's nothing more human than laughing when you don't want to, so let your body take over and make a choice"

Sherlock gritted his teeth, feeling the feather slide down the arch of his left foot, then his right, laughter threatening to escape again. "N-Nohohohohoho... this isn't going to... I-I won't..." He trailed off, fearing he wouldn't be able to control the giggles threatening to bubble up from his throat.

"But it's already happening. You're laughing, and with every second you understand better what I'm offering" Moriarty said, his movements unbroken. He was focusing exclusively on his arches now, as if searching for a new weak spot.

Sherlock let out a short laugh and then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, his fists clenched. He shook his head, trying to keep his wits about him. "This is... pathetic... you think this is persuasion?"

"I think this is the beginning. You're feeling something you can't control, you, the man who controls everything. Now imagine what else we can break together, not with force, but with subtlety" Moriarty said, tracing his toes.

"Ahahahahahahaha! D-Don't you dare...!" He exclaimed, throwing his head back, laughing in short, disconcerted spasms, a mixture of tickling and frustration. "Y-You're crazy"

"No. I'm lucid, more so than any other man in this rotten empire. And now, Sherlock, I want you to tell me, with all the control you have left: What's the real crime here? Defying the system or making you laugh against your will?" Moriarty smiled, a glint in his eyes before dipping the feather between his toes.

"NOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAA!" Sherlock exploded again, feeling the way the soft bristles ran through every nook and cranny, leaving no inch of skin untouched. He even tried to squeeze his toes, but it made no difference, and William always fingered his sole in retaliation, to make him flex his feet and continue. He was right, it was a crime, a perfect crime, with no traces, only the perpetrator and the victim. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Moriarty smiled, his eyes shining with amusement. He might have orchestrated the whole thing, but he certainly hadn't anticipated how amusing and fascinating it would be to see Sherlock Holmes like that, laughing desperately at a little tickling between his toes. His hair was disheveled, his face flushed, and his eyes narrowed, tears threatening to spill from the corners.

He then decided to briefly slow down, removing the feather from his toes and running it along his soles again, allowing him to calm down a bit. "Using that feather was really helpful, it pointed out another weak spot" Moriarty commented, tracing a particular spot on his arch, just below his big toe, on that soft mound.

Sherlock's eyes widened, it was obvious he already knew what William was going to do. "W-Wait-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO, NO, NO! LIAHAHAHAHAHAHAM!" He convulsed with laughter this time, feeling him use the pointed end of the feather to repeatedly tease that sensitive spot.

"Fascinating..." Moriarty commented, holding his right foot to keep it still as he repeatedly traced and poked that spot.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FOR GOD'S SAKE, LIAM!" Sherlock was struggling now, his body tilting sideways and sinking deeper into the chair in a desperate attempt to free himself.

But Moriarty gave no respite, alternating between both feet as he traversed the rest of his soles, eliciting a new writhe and laughter from Sherlock, who was forced to endure a few more moments of torment before he could finally break again.

He panted, breathing heavily. The forced laughter subsided, but his chest still rose and fell in rapid waves. The feather lay forgotten on the ground, but his eyes were fixed on William. "You say I have a choice, but you anticipated and predicted my movements and behaviors for your plan, and now this... This is no choice"

"No, Sherlock, I didn't foresee everything" He said, his face, previously calm, now revealing a trace of frustration. "I didn't anticipate you making things this difficult"

"You want me to give in for a few laughs? Did you really think this would break me? This is just encouragement, nothing more" Sherlock said firmly, trying to dissuade him from stopping.

"No, you're still resisting, not because you're strong, but because you still believe that maintaining your composure is the same as having control over the situation. Maybe... I was too kind to you" Moriarty said, standing up again and walking to the corner of the room. He then opened a drawer in the same desk and took out something unexpected: a small brush with fine, delicate, yet firm bristles.

Sherlock watched him, trying to contain his nervousness, opening his mouth to say something, but William kept talking.

"You know what separates chaos from discipline, Sherlock? Persistence, and I can be very persistent..."

Sherlock didn't answer immediately, his gaze falling briefly on the brush in his hands. He tried to keep his face straight but couldn't help but swallow hard. "This is turning into a show, and you're starting to lose your train of thought"

"On the contrary," Moriarty countered. "I'm right at the heart of my argument" He then began to run the brush with strategic slowness across the sole of his right foot, not superficially, but precisely.

Even though he'd expected it and had cringed in anticipation, Sherlock couldn't prepare much more than this before practically convulsing and bursting into laughter at the feel of the bristles sliding across his sole. "AHHH! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! THAT'S-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP, STOP!" It was absolutely infernal, causing an intense tickle that seemed to torment his entire body this time.

"That's it, watch your voice crack, watch your logic crumble. Because you know I'm right" Moriarty said, sliding the brush across the sole with methodical precision, brushing up and down, side to side, and in circular motions.

Sherlock squirmed in his chair, his face contorting with laughter he tried to contain, only for it to bubble up in involuntary bursts. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GIVE UPHAHAHAHAHAHA! IT'S RIDICULOUS!"

Anticipating this as well, Moriarty decided to make things more difficult, moving the brush to sweep his toes. "You know me, Sherlock, you know this isn't just a game. It's really an invitation, for you to drop that armor of logic and come with me"

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Between laughs, he tried to use reason to control himself, thinking about the deductions, the cases he needed to solve, the mental discipline that sustained him. But the physical sensation was overwhelming, it was as if he could feel each individual bristle being dragged against his skin. "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! FOR GOD'S SAKE, WILLIAM! ENOUGH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Tell me you understand. Tell me that deep down, you accept that the world needs to be remade with intelligence, not dead rules. Say that and I'll stop" Moriarty said, brushing the spaces between his toes, one by one. "I can do this all night, Sherly, come on"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Sherlock writhed, squeezing his eyes shut, his breath shaky, as if he were on the verge of something, a surrender or a breakdown, he couldn't tell.

*BANG*

A loud sound. A firm knock on the library's main door made them both freeze.

"Sherlock! Are you in there?" A voice rang out from the other side.

Moriarty turned his head slowly, brush still in hand. Sherlock looked up, breathless, but now with a glimmer of hope and relief that John had found his note. He might not notify the police, but he would certainly notify someone.

"John…" He murmured.

Moriarty stood calmly, his eyes now filled with restrained tension. He looked at Sherlock, as if regretting the interruption of an unfinished work. "What a shame. Surrender was so close…"

Sherlock smiled, tired but with a hint of teasing. "Maybe. Or you just overestimated your childish method, Liam"

Moriarty returned the teasing smile, turning back to his feet to trace that particular spot under his big toe, causing Sherlock to choke on another burst of laughter. "Childish method? I wasn't the one giggling like a child" He said, before cutting the rope binding his ankles.

"This won't stay like this, I promise!" Sherlock said firmly.

Moriarty smiled. "Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes.." He said, before disappearing through another door just as the main one opened.

[alinatk]

Tickles (IwaOi)

Fandom: Haikyuu! Characters: Tooru Oikawa | Hajime Iwaizumi Lee!Oikawa Ler!Iwaizumi Summary: Oikawa is being annoying. That's enough. Especially when it's Iwaizumi on the other side.

[Read also on Ao3]

(The art doesn't belong to me, I found it on Pinterest. It works very well as a reference for this story)

"Ouch! Damn…" Iwaizumi brought his hand to his face after being hit again, leaving the court immediately.

"Iwa-chann! Are you leaving already? We're not done training yet!" Oikawa shouted from the other side, waving.

That idiot, had definitely done it on purpose, it wouldn't be the first time. "I'm done for today, I don't have much energy" He said, heading to the locker room.

It didn't take long for everyone else to finish as well, as they were very tired from the excessive training of the last few days. Even after the loss to Karasuno, a stumbling block that had stood in their way in the spring tournament to qualify for the world championships, everyone remained motivated, including the fans, cheering and chasing after Oikawa as they always did. Even so, Iwa left ahead of the others.

"Iwa-chan! Wait for me!" Oikawa called, walking toward him, causing Iwa to turn around with a scowl. "Ahh, you're even more grumpy than usual, what happened?"

"Nothing, I'm just tired" He replied, turning to keep walking.

Translation: he's irritated, Oikawa thought. "It wasn't because of that last shot, was it? It wasn't because I intended to" He followed suit, referring to the messed-up serve he'd made.

"So the others were?"

"That's not what I meant!" Oikawa whined, even though it might have been true. He would never admit it.

"Of course, but it's okay, it's not like I'm not used to it already. In fact, I get more irritated with people who get cheered on by little girls even in training" Iwaizumi said, giving him a deadly glare.

"Ahh, Iwa-chan, no need to be jealous, you should be proud to have a boyfriend as handsome as me" Oikawa hummed, making Iwa snort and walk briskly ahead.

Iwaizumi wasn't particularly talented, but he prided himself on his skill and ability to tolerate Oikawa, as they'd been playing together since elementary school. He was more childish than a toddler when he wanted to be, and Iwa wondered what he was thinking when he agreed to start a romantic relationship with him. Well, he remembered it well, actually, maybe he was thinking with the wrong head at the time.

"Don't ruuuun! I won't be able to keep up with you like this"

Iwa turned around, only to see him limping slightly. "What happened?"

"Oh, it's nothing, it just fell wrong after one of the serves, and now it's a little sore" He reached for him, grabbing his arm for support. "So help me and don't run away from me, okay?"

When they got home, they decided to order something to eat, real food for a change. Afterwards, Iwa finished tidying the kitchen while Oikawa sprawled on the couch, his attention captured by his phone, or at least that's what he thought, since he heard him yell after him when he realized he'd finished tidying.

"Come here with me for a bit"

"You hogged the couch…"

"No problem, I'll put my feet in your lap"

"Oh, I see." Iwa rolled his eyes, but relented, taking the opportunity to grab the remote and search for something to watch on TV, his other hand resting on Oikawa's ankle.

The silence lingered between them for a few minutes, but of course, Oikawa would be the one to break it. "What are you doing?"

"Massage" Iwa replied, his fingers lightly squeezing Oikawa's left ankle. "Does it still hurt?"

"It's so good to see you care about me, Iwa-chan, I feel so important" Oikawa gave a smug smile.

"Tcs…" Iwa grumbled, making as if to get up.

"No, no, no, stay here" Oikawa held him up with his legs. "I'll take your massage, you can give me a foot massage too, okay?"

"Anything else, King?" Iwa asked sarcastically, making him laugh, but he quickly went back to massaging him.

He started at his ankle, squeezing, massaging, pressing, and spreading his fingers along the skin. It didn't take long before he began focusing on his heels, applying a little more firmness there. Then he moved up a bit, pressing the sides of his feet before moving his thumbs up and down the entire length of his soles.

Oikawa closed his eyes in bliss, letting out a long sigh, the perfect amount of pressure being applied to his tired muscles, completely relaxing him. His ankle no longer hurt, but even so, he realized how much he needed that massage after the last few exhausting days of training. He was completely relaxed, at least until he felt Iwa's thumbs begin to make gentle circles along his soles, making him shiver. "I-Iwa-chan.."

"Shhh." He warned, focused on the television.

Oikawa bit his lip, those light touches were tickling him, the sensations becoming more and more noticeable as the seconds passed. He didn't know if Iwa was doing it on purpose or not, but it wasn't long before he started kneading the soles of his feet.

"Be quiet" Iwa glanced at him, able to grasp his reactions and the situation this time. "Oh, why did you ask for a massage if you're so ticklish?"

Oikawa grumbled, grimacing. "It's just that you seemed so eager to touch my feet, so I decided to grant your wish"

"Oh, really? Let me touch them some more, then" He said, starting to finger them.

"Ahhhahahaha! W-Wait, Iwa-chahahahahahan!" Oikawa burst out laughing, immediately trying to pull his feet away from him.

But Iwa was faster, slinging one leg over his ankles to keep them still as he continued his attack. "What happened to all your smug posturing, huh?" He scoffed.

"Ahhahahahhahaha! T-That's not fahahahahair!" Oikawa squirmed, kneading his soles in defense.

But the attack backfired, as Iwa only ran faster and harder over the wrinkles forming on his feet. "Don't make things difficult…"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP IT!" Oikawa shook himself, turning around and burying his face in the sofa as he shook his feet as hard as he could.

"Shhh, don't be so loud, the neighbors will complain" Iwa said, unable to stop a smile from creeping across his lips as he slowed his pace.

He watched Oikawa catch his breath as he freed his legs and moved over him, kissing away the light blush that had taken over his cheeks.

Oikawa snorted. "How mean of you to take advantage of me while I'm hurt"

"Don't worry, you'll get over it"

Oikawa couldn't help but laugh. "Let me get back at you then" He took advantage of Iwa's position, straddling his waist, to reach out and dig his fingers into his ribs. "Huh?" He muttered, confused, when he didn't get a reaction.

"Tcs, tcs…" Iwa grabbed his wrists, holding one with his knee and pinning the other against the sofa above his head with his left hand. "You're being very annoying today, Tooru…"

"W-Wait!" Oikawa swallowed hard when he felt him poke his stomach.

"You deserve a punishment" Iwa finished, his fingers lightly climbing his boyfriend's sides.

"No, no, no, no, I'm going to die—hahahahahaha!" He laughed again when his ribs were hit, pursing his lips in retaliation.

"So dramatic and so difficult, but I know very well how to deal with you, Shittykawa…" Iwa spoke, his fingers continuing to climb, dangerously close to his armpits.

"You're so mean, you like seeing me suffer…" He whimpered. "I'm sure none of those girls would treat me like that, Iwa-chan"

Iwa shot him another death glare, followed by a sinister smile. "Oh, really?"

Oikawa felt a shiver run down his spine, immediately regretting his words. "W-Wait, t-that's not what I meant—AHAHAHAHAHA! NO, NOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" He burst into another burst of laughter when he felt the fingers moving in his armpit.

Iwa knew he was sensitive, always poking him to keep him in line, but this was the first time he'd heard him laugh like that, and he was going to enjoy it a little longer. "Apologize"

"S-SOHOHOHOHORRY-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

"It's hard to understand with you laughing like that, Tooru, try a little harder" Iwa said, not missing the opportunity to mock him.

Oikawa writhed in frustrated laughter, his hand desperately slapping against Iwa's knee, as if giving up a fight. "SORRY, I'M SORRYAHAHAHAHAHAHA! P-PLEASE!"

As much as he was enjoying himself, Iwa knew when to stop, but he didn't let go of him, watching as he caught his breath and wiped a small trail of tears from his eyes.

"How cruel, Iwa-chan, I didn't know you were that sadistic" Oikawa said, only to hug himself when he saw his warning look again, expecting another attack. "B-But I deserved it, so it's okay"

"Even if you weren't, you'd get over it" Iwa bent down, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Rude!" Oikawa whimpered again, grabbing him in a hug. "But you're really angry, aren't you? Tell me what happened" He kissed the top of his head.

"I'm not angry, just thoughtful. That game with Karasuno won't leave my mind, it was our last chance" He murmured.

"I know, I've thought about it a lot too…" Oikawa sighed. "But we still have some time ahead of us, so let's make the most of it" He smiled.

Iwa lifted her head to look at him. Oikawa was annoying, but when he smiled, he could be even worse. It turned out, it wasn't just the legions of girls and fans he charmed.