Hey peeps! Welcome to my little fluff blog. 💗 You can call me Eve. (Yes, it’s only a part of my name). I am biromantic and gray ace. I want this to be a safe space & happy place for all of us (no matter what gender, skin-tone or religion). 🏳️🌈🏳️⚧️ So happy to have you here. One thing: minors? Please, do not follow. I am an adult and my content is adult-ish.* 🙏
You’ll find stories, reblogs and sweet things for your heart. 💗 I am in love with love - plus I love books! I read and listen to up-to 70 books per year.
It’s all about fluff and giggles = sweet playful teasing, especially tickling. 🤭🫶
* I collect, share & write romantic stories (adult-ish), sometimes including little steamy-sexy vibes, mostly sfw, nothing explicit that I write. Some ships, some reader x s/o - based on novels, movies and series.
Likes & comments are always appreciated.🥰 Reposts are a no-no. Wanna share? Reblog means care.
Communication:
• gentle asks are always welcome. ☺️
• dms? Preferably only when we’re mutuals or had intense contact (via comments or so) before. Thank you very much for your understanding and accepting my boundaries.
• I am not actively asking for/taking requests. Prompts are closed.
Please note: I am an adult and comment and like some spicier fanfics/fanart for example, because friends or writers/artists I admire did a fine job. They might plop onto the “for you page”, if you follow me.
Current obsession: Sons of Walter (OC) by @otomiyaa
📝 my fanfic list 📑
The special one:
💚 the cuddle lectures (Loki x fem!reader)
Latest:
🩵 Sweet Monday Morning Shenanigans (Sons of Walter)
🩷 At the movies (Elemental 🔥💧)
- - - - - - - -
💚 pumpkin carving is a serious, human business (Loki x gn!reader)
🩷 switch of schedules (Howls Moving Castle)
💜 my TICKLETOBER 2023 fanfics (11)
💚 Truth or dare (Tom Hiddleston x gn!reader)
♥️ Don’t you dare, devil! headcanon (Matt Murdock x Jen Walters / SheHulk x Daredevil)
Are you accepting asks? If so... Lee!Flins with ler!Illuga or Lee!Illuga with ler!Flins? Thanks for your attention anyway, your drawings are very beautiful!
Firstly after seeing the trailer I thought project Hail Mary was a dystopian movie so I didn’t want to watch it but now after seeing so much sweet art and a adorable clip from it, I don’t care if it spoils something I just need to know:
Is this the kind of movie where they die and you immediately escape into denial and fix it fics where everything was fine OR… ? /lh
Lastly ive seen this alien in a 2 minute clip and fanart and I love them 💕
yes, I’m a writer. yes, I write whatever I want for myself and my own enjoyment. yes, I am my own primary target audience. yes, I am a greedy little gremlin who feeds on positive comments. yes, I deeply appreciate everyone who comments nice things on my works.
Ilya’s cocky about it, at first. Naturally. Why wouldn’t he? Shane, who is so inexperienced, so sweet and defensive about it and so willing to learn anyway. Ilya enjoys being his first, or at the very least his first something. He doesn’t ask. They never ask; not at first, but there’s only so much a body can shield. Ilya can tell when he comes too quickly, when he does something to him with clumsy hands and an uncertain and overeager mouth. Things that Ilya enjoys, though he knows Shane feels frustrated sometimes. But he learns. Oh, he learns.
Ilya likes being desired, so of course he laps it all up when he notices the way he stares at his lips. Relishes in the way he flushes when Ilya taps his chin to force his gaze to meet his. Shane always keeps their gazes locked for longer than Ilya thinks he wants to, and he equates that with stubbornness, because he got caught, because Ilya can see the lust in the way he always rests his gaze on his mouth. Ilya notices it each time.
The other part, the rest of it, he notices much later.
It freaks him out a bit, if he’s being honest. Lips are different to dicks, or muscles. Hands even. Staring at someone’s lips means you wish to kiss them, and while Ilya’s never had any problem with kissing Shane - craves it, though he tries not to dwell on it too much - he realizes that it’s intimate in a different way.
But Shane’s using him for sex too. He tries to tell himself that. And Ilya knows sex. Ilya knows how to move and how to charm and how to suck and how to bite. Of course Shane’s staring at his lips. Of course he fucking wants him.
The much later, where the rest of it gets discovered, finds them with labels and confessions, and it’s this new ease, which is more terrifying than Ilya’s ready to admit, that has him finally noticing it in between the mundanity of their days at the cottage. And Ilya realizes he’s probably known about it for a lot longer, but has never known how to interpret it. Decided to latch onto what he thought he understood.
“You don’t like eye contact.” It slips out. He doesn’t usually tell Shane how he’s interpreted something. Prefers to ask and let him explain.
Shane shifts where he sits. He doesn’t like being caught out. Ilya knows this. Ilya wants to bite his own tongue off.
“I-” He clears his throat. Ilya wants to jump off a cliff. “I have a few issues with it, sometimes.” He looks up then, right into Ilya’s eyes. “Does that bother you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, not at all.”
“Okay.” He lowers his gaze, first to Ilya’s lips, then averts it completely. Ilya struggles against the instinct to reach for his chin and tip it upward. Has a moment of brief panic that he’s crossed Shane’s boundaries when he’s done it before.
“Do you, uh-” It’s early morning. Nowhere for them to hide. No darkness to make decisions for them. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Their knees are brushing where they sit, cross-legged so that Ilya isn’t too close and can see him better. As long as their knees are touching he decides there’s no reason to panic.
“I don’t really know what I would say about it.” He shrugs, and Ilya tries to see it as something casual rather than something dismissive. Something defensive. “I’ve always had trouble with it. It just-” He looks at him, at his lips and then his eyes. “It takes me a while to be able to look at people. It’s not like it scares me or anything. I don’t know.”
“Is it too vulnerable?”
“Not always. And I mean-” He smiles. It’s not sad. It’s fucking beautiful. “Vulnerability can be good too.”
Ilya nods. And yet he can’t always look at him. And yet he loves him.
“It’s nothing personal, you know.” Shane places a finger to his knee. “I wish I could look at you all day everyday.” He doesn’t blush when he says it. Has found a home within his feelings. Ilya’s glad, though he misses the timidness sometimes.
“You kept looking at my lips,” he says. “I thought you just really wanted me.” He says it with a smirk which doesn’t reach his eyes, he can tell.
But Shane laughs. Shane laughs and squeezes his knee and it makes Ilya pull away on instinct. “No, I definitely really wanted you. When I look at others I will look at their forehead or something.”
“Oh.”
“Does that make you happy?”
“Very.” He leans in, lets Shane close the gap. “I feel bad for not having noticed.”
“I think twenty something years of doing it makes me pretty good at hiding it.” Shane presses his palm into Ilya’s knee. “It-” He cuts himself off. Ilya gives him time. “It kind of made me panic a bit that you noticed it. It’s fine though,” he adds, eyes on Ilya’s. No stopover at his lips. “I think it’s probably a good thing that you know.”
“Oh?” Ilya gently prompts and puts his hand over Shane’s.
“If I’m ever not looking at you, or not fully at you, you won’t think I’m mad or pulling away or anything.”
“You forget I am not the overthinker in this relationship.” He grins when Shane huffs and laughs when his knee is squeezed again. “Hey, is true.”
“You love my overthinking.”
“Yes.”
Shane pulls his gaze downward, and Ilya thinks he’s rebooting or resting again - whatever the reason he does it - only to realize he’s looking at his knee. “You’re ticklish here.”
“I’m not.” He’s not sure why he’s denying it.
“You so are.” Another squeeze, which has Ilya reaching out to push his hand off. “See, right here.” Shane’s so happy about it that he doesn’t have the heart to put up a front. Most importantly, Shane is looking at him, looking him right in the eye, and he doesn’t seem to struggle with it. It seems to be happening with ease.
And who is Ilya to ruin that?
He rubs at the spot. “Ah, maybe a little bit.”
“I didn’t even know that. Where else are you ticklish?”
Shane leans closer, his gaze still on Ilya, and it’s the intimacy of it all, the playfulness and trust which has him rooted to the spot. He will only move when it becomes too ticklish. When squirming won’t be enough to handle it. And Shane will tease him in his own way and maybe Ilya will be embarrassed, but it will be worth it if Shane looks at him with comfort. And with time, Ilya will realize that comfort doesn’t always mean eye contact. That Shane can rest his gaze on his lips, his lap, the wall behind him, and be perfectly at ease because Ilya doesn’t demand something of him.
He will find all of this out. He just has to endure some tickling before they get there.
Shane places his hand on Ilya’s ankle. “Are your feet ticklish?”
Ilya fights the instinct to pull away. “No.”
A grin finds Shane’s lips. It’s almost scary. “I think you’re lying.” He taps a finger, once, twice. “Prove me wrong, I dare you.”
Ilya makes a determined sound. “You know I do not lose dares.”
“I think you’re about to lose this one.”
Shane looks so happy to be teasing. Ilya will claim that as the reason for how quickly he folds. One tickle to his foot, his knee, an experimental poke to his ribs, and Ilya will grab Shane’s wrists to stop him, and he will only retaliate once Shane’s gaze isn’t on him any longer.
A/N: Below is a list of the chapters of the first book published so far, including their summaries.
CHAPTER I
Summary: Isaac and Philipp have their first encounter with Elliot and are directly pulled into a little incident.
CHAPTER II
Summary: After what happened at the tavern, Elliot returns home safely, spending an evening with his beloved family, his thoughts still lingering around his two mysterious saviors.
I'm gonna tear out the thread one by one from your skin
Fandom: Heated Rivalry
Characters: Shane/Ilya
Summary: "If we win you have to stay still while I tickle you." "And if we win?" "Oh, the same." Or, Ilya keeps his promise.
A/N: Sequel to this. I admit I am a bit nervous to post this as so many people enjoyed the first part, but here it is! Short and sweet and sexy, I hope :)
Warning for sexual themes.
Words: 1.2k
[Read it on ao3]
Boston didn’t even win, and so Ilya was ravenous when he entered Shane’s apartment. Pissed off and horny and wanting to devour. Shane usually liked him like this. Was usually ecstatic about it because it meant Shane won more than once.
Tonight was different. He had felt on edge for two weeks, though not in a bad way. His nerves had settled all over his body rather than in the pit of his stomach, and so he had been twitchy, he had been pacing, he had been quiet and then he had been rambling. He was glad the day had finally arrived, if only for his own peace of mind.
Ilya crowded into his space, though he didn’t touch him. Not yet. “Hollander.”
Shane bowed his head. “Rozanov.”
“You feel great, I’m sure.”
“Well, winning’s always fun.”
Ilya huffed. “I will make sure to have fun too, then.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you,” he said, his voice terrifyingly low. “I will tickle you if we win-” His finger ghosted over the hem of Shane’s shirt. “-and I will tickle you if we lose.”
Shane swallowed. “I remember.”
A hint of a smile settled over Ilya’s lips. “Have you been nervous? Or excited?” He slipped a finger beneath the shirt. “Or both?”
Shane averted his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Both then. Exciting for me.”
“Oh god, please-”
“Please what?” Ilya tilted his head. “Please have mercy? You know I cannot do that.”
Boston didn’t even win, and so Ilya came with vengeance. He came with vengeance because he knew Shane was ready for it. Knew he had been craving it the entire time. A phone call hadn’t been enough. The texts Ilya kept sending him were not enough.
“Remember,” he said, taking a step closer so that Shane was fully trapped between him and the edge of the bed. “Stay still.”
“I can’t promise that.”
“You will try. I will be gentle.” His grin was lethal. “At first.”
Shane felt silly for laughing as he was tackled to the bed, but maybe it helped them both. The playfulness of it all. Ilya pinned him to the mattress and captured his mouth with his own, let Shane get into it, back-archingly, moaningly, embarrassingly into it, before he finally snuck a hand to the curve of his side. It could be just any touch had Shane not been anticipating it, and so he knew it had started when he stiffened and Ilya didn’t stop. Ilya always stopped if he thought something was wrong, but his fingers kept curling, even as Shane whined.
“Stay still,” he mumbled into his lips before he broke the kiss, much to Shane’s chagrin. Not that he had much time to lament over it anyway, what with Ilya’s fingers becoming limber, becoming gentler and much more ticklish against his skin. He leaned back and tickled both of Shane’s sides, grinning at how obviously he was fighting back against his instincts to squirm.
Shane leaned his head back and switched between shutting his eyes and keeping them wide open, not sure which was better or worse. On one hand, seeing Ilya grinning over him made it all the more unbearable, on the other it became a lot harder to be still when he couldn’t see what he was doing. Ilya did this thing, he had come to realize, where his expression changed each time he planned on switching something up. It was terrifying to watch and not know what would change. Shane loved every minute of it.
“F-fuck.” He grabbed the headboard and Ilya’s hand started its slow ascent toward his pit, spidering over each rib with agonizing precision. The other hand remained glued to his side, switching between a curl and a squeeze and Shane found he couldn’t lift his other arm. Found he wasn’t brave enough to leave himself that open.
“Is this what you imagined during our call?” Ilya asked, his voice almost hoarse. As if he, too, was holding his breath and biting his tongue to keep some ounce of control over himself.
Shane exhaled. “Maybe.”
“Is a yes or no question, Hollander.”
“Yes, okay? Yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.” He closed his eyes, opened them as soon as Ilya reached the softness just beneath the hollow of his arm. “Is this what you imagined when we beat you?” His lips twitched when Ilya huffed. “Did it distract you?”
“Careful, Hollander,” Ilya warned. “You know I am being gentle with you.”
“You said you would.”
“Yes. At first. If you are cocky I might speed up.” He stilled his fingers, giving Shane momentary relief. “Ah, unless that is what you want me to do.”
“I don’t,” Shane mumbled, not knowing if he was being truthful or not. Ilya could do anything to him and he would take it and beg for either mercy or something else, something he couldn’t fully verbalize but that Ilya would understand anyway.
“Hmm. I don’t believe you, but is okay.” He grinned and drummed his fingers over Shane’s skin. “Your body doesn’t lie. Not to me.”
He didn’t start tickling him suddenly or roughly, but Shane found it all the more unbearable when he started again, as gentle as before, sending ticklish shocks through him which he didn’t know how to handle. His arm shot down, ultimately trapping Ilya’s hand in his armpit, which helped but not much. Whatever sound he made - a cry, a shriek, something else entirely - had Ilya laughing in surprise.
“I said stay still.” But there was no venom in his voice. Only amusement. It was almost embarrassing to hear and Shane found he had to look away.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, gripping Ilya’s wrist but not pushing his hand off of his side. “I don’t know what happened.”
“I turned you on.”
“Oh my god, shut up.”
Ilya tapped his side with his index finger. “You feel more sensitive, no?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hollander.”
“Okay, yes, maybe a little bit.”
“Mmm. You like it when I tease you. That is why.”
Shane couldn’t even deny it, because his body decided to prove Ilya right. They both looked down at it, Shane with burning cheeks which burned all the more when Ilya looked back up at him with raised eyebrows. He was still wiggling his fingers under his arm, still curling his fingers against his side. None of that helped. It didn’t help at all.
“Hollander,” he sang, that damn smirk growing on his lips. “Be patient.”
“I am patient, you goddamn tease.”
Ilya laughed, loud and clear and beautiful. “I will take my time. I will make it so good. But remember.” He leaned in, pressed a kiss to Shane’s lips. “Be still.”
How Shane stayed still was a fucking miracle, but as Ilya slowly unraveled him, prying his arm up to free his hand so that he could claw at his stomach, his other hand moving downward to squeeze at his thigh, Shane remained mostly entirely still, sans his heels digging into the mattress, his back arching ever so slightly, his head moving back and forth. The only thing indicating that he was in ticklish agony were the sounds he was making, which ranged from groans to something that sounded a lot closer to moans if he was being honest with himself.
“You can laugh, you know,” Ilya said quietly, and it was the gentle fondness in his voice which broke the dam in the end. It turned out it was a lot harder to be still when you were laughing. Not that Ilya seemed to mind. He pinned him properly to keep his thrashing at bay and all but destroyed him, stopping only when Shane came hard.
🥲 shush, little fluttering heart. This part is intense and so gentle, at the same time. The careful teasing, the kisses in between? The trust and excitement. The softness. 😭 It’s so, so good.
Notes: This is directly inspired by a TikTok post I saw where Levi had freckles, and I have been obsessing over the concept ever since. These little cuties deserve to have their place in tickletober ❤️
Summary: Erwin discovers that Levi has freckles.
It was in moments like these that Levi allowed his mind to drift to the possibility that maybe this could be his. The world was silent around them in these early hours. Realistically, they should both be asleep. Wake-up call was in an hour, after all, and they couldn’t afford to let the recruits know they were slacking—it set a bad precedent. But Erwin was warm and sleepy and smiling at him like Levi was the final piece of a jigsaw puzzle he had been constructing all his life. Smiles like that made Levi think that Erwin wanted—needed—this just as much as he did.
“We should go to bed,” Levi whispered. He had a sheet half-pulled over them both, their clothes discarded at the end of the bed. They had been there for a while now as neither one of the two wanted to end the thrill that nakedness brought, the vulnerability that came with exposing yourself to another.
Erwin would comment on that sometimes. You seem so human like this, he would murmur, and Levi would scoff, as if Levi wasn’t always human, as if Erwin wasn’t made of steel, even now. Levi merely had walls, but Erwin had the frightening ability to share his whole life with someone and still feel a million miles away.
Erwin shook his head. He traced a finger softly down the line of his jaw. Levi closed his eyes. “To be roused in an hour? I’d rather spend my time more… productively.”
Levi snorted. “I think we just spent the last two hours ‘productively’. Even humanity’s strongest soldier needs his rest, Erwin.” Nevertheless, he hummed pleasantly under Erwin’s touch, making no moves to get away.
“Clean your mind, Ackerman. I simply meant admiring you.”
Heat crept up Levi’s neck unbidden. It was strange how things that Erwin said so casually could have this level of impact on the captain.
Erwin’s touch traveled down his neck and over his shoulders, creating loops and spirals that made Levi shiver. Years ago, he never would have considered letting himself get close enough to anyone for them to do that. He hated how much he enjoyed the vulnerability as he knew it would never be able to last. When Erwin’s fingers descended down his arm, his breath hitched slightly in his throat.
“Did you know,” Erwin said, so quietly that only Levi, inches away from him, could have heard. “That you have a faint scattering of freckles over both of your arms.”
His gaze was so intense that Levi found himself transfixed by it. He nodded slowly, his breathing shallow. “It happens in the sun. It must be the warmer weather.”
“Mm.” Erwin grinned. “Then for my sake, I hope the weather stays this way for as long as possible. I don’t want to miss a moment of this phenomenon.”
Levi’s voice was weak when he spoke. “It’s just freckles, Erwin. Nothing you haven’t seen before. Nothing you won’t see again.”
“No,” Erwin murmured, and Levi thought he almost detected a hint of sadness in his voice. “I suppose not.”
They stayed like that for several moments more, Erwin gently tracing the skin on his arm, the birds quietly chirping outside their window. It would have been a much more peaceful moment if Levi hadn’t quickly realized another fact about himself that the years had caused him to forget. He was ticklish. Very ticklish. Ticklish in places no human had any right to be ticklish. In this case, on his arms. And all of Erwin’s tracing was stirring up these forgotten nerves and sending goosebumps racing over Levi’s skin.
He didn’t necessarily mind the tickling on its own. It was kind of nice, actually, his stomach fluttering pleasantly in reaction. It was only that it was becoming increasingly difficult not to react to it. If he could allow himself to squirm a little or let out the giggles building in his throat, he would have enjoyed it a lot more. The idea of doing so in front of Erwin was mortifying, however, so he dampened the joy he might have experienced with the effort of concentrating on keeping entirely and utterly still. It didn’t help that Erwin wasn’t stopping either, and possibly didn’t plan to for the rest of this hour they had left together.
He focused on a spot on the wall opposite them, squinting intently. Look at the wall, admire the wood—oh god, don’t move down—it’s a very nice shade of brown, possibly a chestnut—why are my elbows so sensitive—look at the wall, look at the wall, look at the wall!
His plan might have gone off without a hitch, but unfortunately for him, Erwin was incredibly perceptive when it came to himself. When his touch strayed too close to his armpit, Levi twitched. It was a tiny, miniscule movement, but it was enough for Erwin to take notice of. Experimentally, he traced the spot again and the same twitch occurred. In between them, Levi’s fists had tightened in the sheets. Erwin grinned.
“Levi?”
No response.
“I can’t help but notice that you seem awfully tense.”
“Hm.”
“I was formulating a theory on it, but I wanted to run it by you in case I’ve gotten it wrong.”
Levi squeezed his eyes shut, the wall not enough. He needed total and utter darkness to concentrate. He couldn’t let anything distract him.
“The theory,” Erwin continued, despite the other’s silence. “Is that you’re ticklish. Furthermore, that I am tickling you.”
Levi hadn’t thought it was possible to blush this much until this moment. Erwin was gently teasing against the crook of his arm with just one finger. It was unbearable. It was delightful. Levi was going to break if he didn’t cut it out. He grunted, resolving to burrow his face into the pillow instead.
“Levi?” The smugness in Erwin’s voice could be heard miles away. “Am I correct?”
Levi muttered something that might have been “fuck off,” but it came out in the form of a muffled giggle that wasn’t super distinguishable.
“Was that a yes?”
Levi lifted his face to glare at him. “It was a—” He broke off when he felt Erwin’s other fingers settle in closer to that spot near his armpit—waiting for his next words. He swallowed, looking away. “Yes. A bit.”
Erwin’s brows rose and Levi hated how his heart thudded at the teasy expression. “Ah,” Erwin said, somehow managing to convey an entire paragraph of understanding into that one noise. The essence of it was: gotcha. “I see. I thought that might be the case.”
Levi squeezed his eyes shut and waited. He waited for the inevitable teasing, the frenzied attack, the uncontrollable laughter, the embarrassment he would never live down. But it didn’t come. In fact, Erwin didn’t tease him or even speak at all after that. He just went back to his light tracing, albeit a bit ticklier than it had been before. Levi giggled, unable to help it, and the teasing still didn’t come. Nor did it when he squirmed, or when he let out a noise that was definitely a snort.
Erwin could have taunted him into oblivion if he wanted to. In other circumstances, Levi might have even been fine with that. But no. Instead, he allowed Levi this moment of quiet humanity. The fact sat in the air between them: Levi was ticklish. And Erwin let it sit without being judged or commented on so that Levi could lay there and enjoy the tickling as much as he wanted.
Something clenched painfully in Levi’s chest, a burst of emotion he couldn’t quite identify. He didn’t try; that was for another day. Instead, he buried his face in Erwin’s chest as the other traced horribly ticklish shapes all over his arms.
Your Candy Hearts Event? Such a sweet collection ^^
May I kindly request Yor x Loid from Spy x Family with 💜 Angel: “What happens if I do this?” in a romantic setting, with Loid on the receiving end?
I hope this sparks your writing joy 🤞😍
I got so excited when I found them on your fandom list. 🥰
I wish you as much joy as possible with all the prompts you end up writing.
{Candy Heart Prompts are officially CLOSED!}
Hi friend! Aww, thank you so much for the kind words! I appreciate it! :D You absolutely may request this: This is so CUTE!!! I love Lee!Loid with my entire heart, and Twiyor is just- mmmmh! I've got you covered!
Angel: "What happens if I do this?"
It was rare for her to not know what to do with her hands.
As an assassin, it was like breathing. She knew exactly how to hold her knives, the best way to angle them for a seamless kill. As a mother- even in pretend- she knew how to caress a teary cheek or gently gather her laughing child. As a sister, she knew how to apply a bandage to a bruising knee and ruffle a tuft of dark hair. Everything felt right with her hands up till now.
With Loid here- in his arms as his lips caressed hers oh so gently, she suddenly forgot what hands felt like. Let alone what to do with them.
His seemed to know what to do. They held her hips in a steady hold, warm even with the fabric of her sweater between. They never strayed- ever the gentleman. They made her feel safe in his embrace, yet at the same time impatient, like he was holding back for her sake. She wanted more.
And yet…how did she show that? This was all fairly new to her. Didn’t the romance novels she sometimes read always talk about this feeling being instinctive? Like she’d know instantly what to do?
‘Don’t be scared. Just…do something! Before he thinks you’re uncomfortable.’ She willed them to move, torn between where to rest them. Did she wrap them around his neck? No- the only thing that came to mind was how to effortlessly break a man’s spine. Shoulders? Would he think she was trying to push him away? That wouldn’t do.
Maybe she should copy him, grab his own hips in return and match. Yeah, that might work. They seemed so far down though- would that be improper? Choosing a happy medium, she rested them on his sides as she leaned forward, pressing in.
“Hmmph!” He sputtered against her mouth, pulling back.
Her heart sank. She ruined it. “Loid-?”
“Sorry. I’m ticklish.” He confessed, cheeks bright pink. Her mind went blank- all her previous worries fading away like sand in the wind. “Yor? Are you…?”
“Hmm.” A new thought crossed her mind. One that would definitely kill the mood they had going on. What happens if I do this?
“Yor? What are you thi-ihihihnking!? Ehehheahhaa, wahahhait! Whahahit, hohhold oohohon! YHohooohohr pleeahhahse!” Loid broke near instantly, leaning further away when her fingers pressed in again. This time she did it with more intention- mindful of the pressure she added as she wiggled along his ribs. “Whahahit, yohoohu’re tiihihickling mehehehe!”
“Am I? Really now? She cooed, a smile pulling on her lips as she loomed over him. She felt wine drunk- like she just downed an entire bottle. Loid’s laughter tasted better than any reds she had in recent years. “You would have fooled me. Tell me, Loid- where are you most ticklish?”
“Iihihi’m nohohoht thehehelling yohooohohu thahahhat! Ehahhahhaa! Yoohoohohu cohohouldn’t prihihiy thahahat ihiihnformahahation ohohohut of me nohohoh mahhahhatter whahhhat!” He cackled, pressing his face into the couch cushions as he weakly pawed at her hands. “Iihiih’ll nehehehver shahahahy!”
“That’s fine with me. I’ll get it out of you somehow.” She purred, switching to his belly and earning a new sound to his giggles. “Just you wait.”
😍😭🥰 Tehehehehe this is soooooooooooo good. Haha! I really love their dynamic. The way Yor is careful for a second and her pure, mischievous assassin self right afterwards. Made me smile soo, so much. I love the soft kisses in the beginning 🫠 SO CUTE. Thank you so much 🥰
There's no better vengeance than learning to enjoy again
Fandom: Heated Rivalry
Characters: Ilya/Shane
Summary: Ilya won't do anything to Shane without explicit consent, which includes tickling him.
A/N: Inspired by this anon's ask about Ilya being the #consentking. Because he SO is. This is also the fic I've been posting these sneak peeks for hehe.
Words: 2.1k
[Read it on AO3]
Ilya didn’t enjoy being tickled.
The lack of control was part of it. Having grown up in a household where any emotion other than anger was seen as a weakness, he had slowly armored himself in a way to ensure he was nothing but ego and pride to the outside eye. Being tickled just didn’t mesh with that image, and would certainly not bode well if the wrong person caught sight of it. And being out of control like that was dangerous for someone like him. The world wasn’t safe enough for that.
The sensation was another part. Though he wasn’t overly sensitive, he simply didn’t enjoy the feeling of light unwanted touch or, as was usually the case, hard pokes and kneading hands intruding on his person. His body didn’t know what to do with it, and so he ventured into the lack of control territory once more. Pulling knees out of squeezes. Slapping away insisting fingertips. Gritting his teeth all the while.
The fact that the only person who ever tickled him in a way that made him feel safe was his mother - his dead, long gone, wonderful mother - was probably the biggest part of it, though he buried it deep down. It was easier to blame everything else. Easier to pretend it couldn’t be fun in the right circumstances.
Shane never tickled him. Not on purpose, anyway. Ilya had discovered his sensitivity early on, tucked between roaming hands and moans laced with a laugh which could mean anything, really, had Ilya not slowly gotten to know every inch of that body. He knew to steer clear of Shane’s feet, to use more pressure on his inner thighs, to not nuzzle into his neck for too long. He wondered if he showed him the same consideration, or if Ilya had just gotten so good at reigning in his reactions that he had no idea.
He had been tickled by him though, accidentally, when he grabbed his knees to adjust himself, or dug his fingers into Ilya’s sides when something felt good. Innocent actions. Certainly not ticklish enough for Ilya to laugh, though he did remember himself twitching in surprise. If Shane had noticed, he never brought it up. Most importantly he never used it against him.
Ilya tried not to use it against him either, only it became harder once they got closer, once they were boyfriends, and their life was littered with playfulness and domesticity and not just sex. Wrestling Shane to the bed with a deeply ingrained instinct to jam his fingers into his ribs. He was already laughing. Already relaxed and happy and trusting him fully. And the trust was the reason he didn’t. Was the reason he simply pinned his arms to the side and leaned down to kiss him. Mornings of wrapping his arms around his waist in the kitchen, with the sudden urge to curl his fingers over his belly just to make him giggle and squirm into him. A moment of safety, which Ilya could ruin in the disguise of play.
That morning was different. Shane was sprawled out on the bed, sleepy after Ilya had gone down on him twice, and each time he made a sudden movement Shane would twitch and laugh, untouched and yet.
“What is it?” Ilya finally asked, relishing in that smile. All giddiness. All because of him.
Shane pushed his hand away, even though he still hadn’t touched him. “Tickles.”
“What?”
A blush was coloring his cheeks, but Shane wasn’t clinging onto denial or pretence. “I feel really ticklish right now, so I keep thinking you’ll tickle me.”
“I have never tickled you.” Ilya crossed his arms to show he was keeping them to himself. “Wait, how do you feel ticklish?”
Shane shrugged. “Extra sensitive. Giggly. Tired. Safe. I don’t know.”
“Safe?”
He averted his gaze. “I mean, yeah.”
“But you keep thinking I will tickle you?”
He shrugged again.
“So in that case you don’t feel safe.”
“But I do.”
Ilya wet his lips. “Explain.”
“I mean, it’s fun, right? And I trust you would stop when I needed you to.” He was bright red now, but he spoke in earnest.
Ilya hummed.
Another part of why he didn’t like being tickled: it was almost always done without his consent. Ilya didn’t like not giving his consent. Didn’t like that people thought they could just take and take in the guise of fun.
He tilted his head at Shane. Maybe not everyone thought the same way as him. “Do you want me to tickle you?”
Shane let out a strangled laugh. “That sounds stupid when you put it like that.”
“I won’t do it unless you want me to.” Ilya didn’t mean to tease, but he did enjoy the way Shane’s embarrassment shifted form and turned into something sweet. Something shy.
He reached out slowly and allowed himself to touch now, cradling Shane’s cheek in the palm of his hand. He leaned into the touch and said, “We’ve never had any tickle fights.”
Ilya shifted. “We haven’t.”
“Why is that?”
He didn’t have to explain to him that much of their relationship had been a constant tiptoeing of lines they were afraid to cross, and once they did, a quick retreat. For much too long it had been that, until suddenly it wasn’t. It was true that most people would be eager to explore the other side, and it wasn’t that they were afraid, not more than they had to be.
But Ilya didn’t know how to approach this. How something this silly could be so serious to him. “I didn’t know you were ticklish.”
“You could’ve found out.”
“Would you have wanted me to? On my own, I mean?”
“It’s weird to have to tell you about it.”
“Hmm, I lied, actually. I knew about it.”
Shane’s head snapped to the side. “Wait, you did?”
“Yes. For a long time.” He grinned at Shane’s look. “What can I say? I am a gentleman.”
“Ilya,” he whined, giving his chest a light slap. “Why would you not have taken advantage of that?”
Ilya laughed. “It really sounds like you want me to tickle you, Hollander.”
“Don’t Hollander me, Rozanov.”
“You think you can provoke it out of me, huh?”
“That’s usually how it works.”
“I need you to ask for it.” He moved his hand from his cheek to his jaw. “I need you to tell me you will enjoy it, or at the least not mind me doing it.”
Shane’s breath caught. “Why?”
“Because-” He stroked his chin with his thumb. “-I do not want to do something to you that you don’t want me to do.”
“Oh my god, you’re serious.”
“Of course.”
“Most people don’t want to be tickled.”
“Are you most people?”
He exhaled slowly. “Some people think it’s fun.”
“And are you some people?” He smiled at him, attempting to keep it light, but Shane looked away anyway. It was cute. It was so cute Ilya nearly crossed his own boundary then and there.
“I don’t know,” he finally mumbled. “It’s been years, and it’s never been like this.”
“Like how?”
“With someone I love. Like this.”
Ilya’s heart was about to burst out of his chest.
He leaned in to press his lips to Shane’s temple. “I love you too much to do something you don’t want me to do. I am not trying to be difficult.”
Shane’s gaze softened. “I know you’re not.”
“And I don’t mean to embarrass you when I tell you I need you to ask for it.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Though I do enjoy your blush.”
“Ilya.”
Ilya hummed as he stroked Shane’s cheek with his knuckles. “Tell me.”
“I’m- not sure I would like it, but- I mean, I would like us to be like that, you know?”
“I know.”
“So.” He seemed to brace himself. Ilya found it unbearably adorable. “Could you tickle me? Please?”
Ilya grabbed his wrist. “Say it again.”
“Ilya-”
“Okay, okay.” He laughed at his impatience. “I need you to tell me when to stop, okay?”
“Jesus Christ-”
“Say ‘hockey’, okay?”
“Yes, yes, fine, hockey it is. Now can you get on with it? I hate the anticipation.”
Ilya grinned. “You love the anticipation,” and he pounced, before Shane had time to protest. Neither of them really expected it, that Ilya would straddle him, that he would take his task so seriously. He wasn’t being merciless about it, though. He didn’t pin Shane’s hands, or dig his fingers into spots that would make him twitch with laughter, twitch and jerk and lose control of his limbs. He kept it light, which, when he thought about it, which he would, many times, probably drove Shane all the more crazy.
“Wahahait,” was all he managed to say at first, a constant begging for Ilya to cut it out, to leave him alone, to stop taking advantage of his sensitivity like this. Only Ilya knew his protests didn’t mean anything, at the very least weren’t a proper call for this to end. He cradled the consent in his bare hands, holding it close as he listened to Shane’s begging, listened to him slowly falling apart without feeling like a monster for it.
“You’re so-” He wasn’t even sure what he meant to say, only knew that Shane’s laughter, which was filling the room almost entirely now, made him feel both excited and strangely powerful for being allowed this. “-fucking cute.”
“Shut up!” Shane spat back, but he had his head thrown back, his hands constantly chasing Ilya’s which skirted over his torso, side, rib, armpit, neck, and back. A chase which could drive anyone mad, but was still simply- fun. For them both.
“I didn’t know you would be so easy to break,” he said, treading somewhat unknown water. But he liked riling Shane up, and Shane and his biting mouth always enjoyed the challenge of having to deal with him.
He all but growled now, all giggly giddiness from before enveloped in something else, something determined. He dug his feet into the mattress and Ilya realized belatedly that he was trying to buck him off, that he was probably aiming to turn the tables, and while that didn’t mean he wanted this to stop, because the safe word was still nowhere near his tongue, it did mean Shane enjoyed the idea of this being mutual. Of this being bodily and competitive, and Ilya wasn’t certain if he wanted that. Ilya was about to ruin a perfectly good consensual thing because he hadn’t thought to bring himself into the equation.
Only when he found himself hesitating and Shane had the perfect opportunity to turn this around, he still remained glued to his back, knees which he had pulled up to Ilya’s sides relaxing, visibly forcing himself to take this with nothing but his shielding hands. Ilya realized it then. That Shane would never do something to him which he hadn’t consented to. That this meant as much to Shane as it did to him.
God knew how Ilya didn’t cry right there and then.
He leaned down and wrapped his arms around him, taking in his surprised exhale and relishing in how he started squirming the minute he realized that Ilya was still tickling him even now. Fingers curling over his upper ribs, with Shane trapped between him and the bed and giggling into his neck, which tickled him a bit and he found that he didn’t care. He was safe here.
“You’re so ticklish,” he mumbled into Shane’s hair, which had Shane slapping his back and laughingly telling him to shut up. “What? Is true. You cannot deny it.”
“You don’t have to be so mean about it,” he said, whining when Ilya hit a particularly bad spot. “Fuck, this tickles so much, Ilya, get off.”
“Hmm, do you really want me to?”
“I- ah! I need you to allow me to squirm.”
Ilya sat up reluctantly. “Fine. Thank you for telling me. I can continue, yes?”
Shane covered his face with his hands. “Yes, god, please continue.”
“Can I tickle your knees?”
“This is gonna be the death of me- yes, you can tickle my knees.”
“Good. I think they will be very bad.”
“I will kick you.”
“Ah, maybe, but as long as you don’t say hockey I will continue.” He poked his belly. “Until we are both satisfied.”
“Domestic life is so weird,” Shane said, very obviously trying to redirect his embarrassment.
Ilya decided to bite. “This can’t be normal domestic life, though, can it?”
“Maybe not.”
“We’re so much less boring. Even you.”
“Oh, ha ha, please tickle me so I will laugh.”
“Oh, I will.” Ilya beamed at him. “Until you ask me to stop.”
Shush, my heart …Ilya is so gentle, so curious and cautious at the same time. I know his feelings for the receiving end of this little play, the fear, the unknown after years and the hurdle to get over with it. One step after another, with love and consent.
💗 Thank you so much for writing this kind masterpiece filled with trust, love and laughter. 💗
…If you ever plan on writing a second part for Ilya, well, that would be something. To see how he evolves into that direction, if he ever wants to, if he’ll be able to communicate those feelings and get reassurance from Shane too. His safe heaven. No pressure. Just giddy happiness for daydreaming.
💗 to everyone: read this. It will melt your heart and warm your core, calm your soul with a soothing sweetness. Especially, when you are like Ilya and me and know his feelings from your own side of the playing field.
My heart is filled with joy after reading this soft and gentle fanfic, with the cautious and loving and reassuring “ler” in form of sweet Ilya.
