Yesterday, after putting @simplee-giggles in a foot weave and body harness, I told her that I wanted to take a very quick “action photo”. This, dear reader, was not entirely (or at all) truthful. I did not, in fact, take a picture. Instead I secretly recorded a video and tickled her immobilised toes, all the while insisting that I hadn’t managed to get the shot yet. Poor Carrie … she couldn’t even wiggle them 😏 If you’ve never tied someone up in their own home to torture them all day, you’re missing out, what can I say?
tying you to the bed only to be viciously, excruciatingly gentle with you. unhurried and unsympathetic to your complaints that its too light, too soft, it tickles, its not enough. unmoved by your begging for more. you'll get what i want to give you, and what i want to give you is adoration so slow and sweet it makes you cry. and when you cry, maybe then i'll finally have a little less mercy on you.
“Please! I didn’t— this is not f- c’mon! Just-let’s just talk about this!”
You can’t help but roll your eyes at that, glaring at Ryland from across the rolling table he’s pulled between the two of you in a desperate attempt to create more distance. He watches you wearily, his eyes wide and flitting all around in search of an escape. His heart is pounding so hard his ears are starting to ring, and in the moment of stillness, he takes deep breaths, trying to steady himself.
You watch for just a moment, entertaining the illusion of peace only briefly before taking a hurried step forward. He lets out a yelp when you push the table out of your way and continue after him, and he darts to the right of you, out of the lab and back onto the beach.
It goes without saying that you have no interest in talking, especially given that he’s managed to run you around the entire beach twice now, and is seemingly working towards a third. You're hot, and you're tired, and it's his fault.
“Come on, Ryland~”, you sing, slightly out of breath as you jog behind him “It’s much easier when you just let it happen”. His face flushes red as he recognizes his own words from just hours earlier thrown back at him.
See, the day hadn’t started like this at all. In fact, it had been quite the opposite. He had woken up with a want- no- a need. Something loud and hungry and in desperate need of attention. Something he had to satiate. So, he had sought out to do just that.
It felt exactly the same as all the times he’d gotten the gnawing urge to draw squeals and giggles and pretty little desperate noises from your lips. So naturally, he assumed that's what would cure his deficiency. What else was he meant to do?
You, you poor thing, had no idea what waited for you when you rolled out of bed, stretched, and sleepily made your way after him.
He was on you as soon as you stumbled out of the house and into the lab, before you even got the chance to wake up good. Honestly, you weren’t entirely sure what had happened, just that an arm had wrapped tight around your waist before he hoisted you up and carried you right back inside. By the time he was done, you were so worn out you went back to sleep.
He got what he wanted. Then again, he always does. But, that need had just kept buzzing at him. Even as he lay beside you, petting your hair, tracing your skin while you slept it off, it ached in the back of his mind. All day. No matter what he was doing, he couldn’t shake the thought of fluttering fingertips and bubbly giggles. The problem was that this time, the feeling is just slightly different.
Usually, he’s mean, but now, now just the thought of it is making his face flush red as he gets what he could only describe as butterflies. He can’t focus on anything else. Not Adrian’s rambling about the water temperature, or Rocky’s mention of fixing up Mary. Not even Armando’s new voice box that sounds strikingly similar to Meryl Streep.
You had noticed his behavior was a little odd. It was hard not to. He was fidgety, stumbling over his words, tripping over himself, lost in thought. He couldn’t stand still for the life of him, and every few minutes you’d catch the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. Of course he's naturally a little awkward, but this was something different.
You really didn’t know what to think at first, but you just couldn’t shake the thought that you should be able to identify his behavior and-
“Oh my god.”
You looked up, eyes wide as Ryland’s voice interrupted your thoughts, just as you pieced it together. From the wide-eyed look on his face, he had too.
That was all it took. One look between the two of you, a mutual understanding, and he had turned on his heels before you even got the chance to tell him to run.
He doesn’t realize as he strides across the sand that running into the small beach house almost certainly isn’t the best idea, until he finds himself standing in the walkway with limited options for running or hiding. His heart drops as he hears your footsteps behind him before you stop in the doorway, taking a breath.
“You”, you point at him, hunched over slightly as you steady your breathing, “yooouuu are so fucked.”
He’s seemingly frozen for a moment before he turns slowly to face you. You’ve never seen a man so red. It’s almost concerning, and the awkward smile he cracks certainly doesn’t help.
“Wh— me?”, he asks, forcing out a small chuckle, “Pfff, I’m just- we’re— you know, we’re just messin’ around! Right?”
You raise an eyebrow, propping one hand on your hip as you watch with great amusement as he tries to talk his way back into your good graces. You also certainly don’t miss the slow step he starts to take backwards.
His hands are raised in front of him just enough for the gesture to be defensive, and he moves ever so slowly. Almost like he thinks you wont notice if he moves slow enough.
“I-I think we should take a break! Just relax for the rest of the day, have a nice bath, a-and I’ll even invite Rocky and Adrian over!”.
You huff out a laugh of your own, crossing your arms over your chest as you just watch him back his way into the small bedroom. You’d be lying to say you arent thrilled at the opportunity to get him back, and you so badly want to rub in his face just how screwed he is, but you know his brain. So, instead, you say nothing. You just watch with a pointed look.
Sure enough, after a few seconds with no response or reaction, you can see him falter just a bit. His breathing quickens, and his face falls just slightly to one of panic, or maybe something more like anticipation.
“I— c’mon— why aren’t you saying anything?”. You’re sure he doesn’t mean for it to come out quite so whiny, but that doesn’t change the fact that it does anyway, and as overjoyed as you are to watch him writhe and whine about nothing more than a look, you’re eager to get your hands on him.
You roll your eyes with an exaggerated sigh as you take just two steps towards him. You can see his chest heaving. He's sweating, a mixture of nerves and the exhaustion of running around the beach, and you certainly don't miss the way he's trembling as he continues to slowly edge backwards. You're only so far from him as you cross the threshold from the living room into the bedroom, you could reach out, just grab him and get it over with. You, however, are much more attentive to your current surroundings than he is, and you spot almost immediately how his current course of action is going to get him in trouble.
"Please, I am begging you. My light, my life, my best friend in the whole wide world. This is not necess-", he cuts himself off with a loud yelp as the back of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards on the mattress. It takes him all of one second to realize how absolutely fucked he is, but you had watched, and you had planned, and you're straddling his hips before he can start to try to get himself up again.
"NO! Nononono! This is not fair, we are not doing this!", he grumbles through gritted teeth, trying to make himself sound angry and intimidating, but he doesn't account for the giggles that he's not doing a very good job of holding in. They certainly aren’t deterring you in any way.
He tries oh so hard to free himself, but you make quick work of grabbing his arms. Well, as quick work as you can. It is a slight bit of a struggle, he's much stronger than he looks, but you have the higher ground, and you can feel the will to fight slipping from him when you pin his wrists under your knees.
He struggles for just a moment longer, face red and heart pounding as he looks anywhere but at you, and for the very first time ever, you have left Dr. Ryland Grace speechless. You give him a moment, just to settle, but even as he takes deep, steadying breaths, he can feel the anticipation crawling all over his nerves. He doesn't know what to do with himself, poor thing. Closing his eyes makes him paranoid about when you'll attack. Looking at you drives him up a wall. It's tingling up his spine and through his arms and down to his fingertips, and he doesn't notice how sweaty his palms are.
It hangs heavy between the two of you, the knowledge of what's to come. It's peaceful for the moment- much more so for you than for him- but both of you know how this ends. He’s never been on the receiving end of such an inevitable fate, and you had greatly underestimated how incredible it feels to hold this much control over someone. So much so that every little move you make makes them squirm.
"Nothing to say now, hm?"
He squeezes his eyes shut as you card your fingers through his hair. It's damp with sweat, but you don't mind. Everything inside of him is telling him to do whatever he can to get away, and when the idea strikes him to bite, he almost acts on impulse, but he stops himself just as he bares his teeth.
He shakes his head, and you can feel him twisting his hips in one last small effort to get some freedom, but it’s impossible for him to get any leverage in this position. You giggle and the sound sends a shiver down his spine. He narrows his eyes, the corner of his lip downturned as he glares at you, but when you bring one hand up, ever so gently holding him by the chin, he quickly corrects himself.
“Okay! Okay okay, ohhhh my god, I’m so, so sorry-NO!”
You don’t expect the first noise you draw from him to be so loud and high pitched, but you had gotten tired of listening to him ramble, and you’re so very content to prod experimentally at his ribs.
You’re taken aback yourself by the reaction, and you stop for just a moment before the slight smirk on your face turns into a shit-eating grin.
“Ohhh right here, huh?”, you enunciate the words by worming your fingers into the spaces between his ribs, wiggling against the soft flesh. He shakes his head, letting out little huffs as he tries so very hard not to laugh, but when your other hand finds the very same spot on his other side, he just cant seem to stop the steady stream of high-pitched, hiccupy giggles that spills from his lips.
“Nohoho! No— plehehease! Please- just—“, he whines through his laughter, squeezing his eyes shut as he turns his face to the side. You watch the way his eyes crinkle at the outer corner with his smile. You can’t help but giggle yourself.
“Just what?”, you ask, fingers trailing down to squeeze and prod at his sides. “Just stop? What if I don’t want to?”
He manages a couple quick breaths as your assault moves to a slightly less sensitive spot, but it’s still nearly unbearable.
“Plehehease!”, he whines out again, this time sounding particularly desperate. You can feel him tugging at his wrists. “I’ll never— I’ll never tihihickle you again!”
It’s such an absurd statement- especially coming out of his mouth- that you can’t help but laugh. “You are such a liar, Ryland”, you say, just as he manages to get one of his hands free.
He doesn’t manage much with his new found freedom before you grab his wrist, leaning forward to pin it above his head. He groans, his face burning red. This position just feels so much worse, so much more compromising.
You giggle, slipping your hand under his shirt just to trace your nails ever so slowly up and down his stretched side. “What’s wrong? You liked it better the other way?”
His breath hitches in his throat at the first touch of your fingertips against his bare skin, and he doesn’t know whether to shake his head or nod, which results in an odd combination of both.
“No- yes— I, ohhhh my god, I don’t know! I don’t know!”, his voice is strained, like he’s trying to hold his breath, and you can’t help but notice that he only gets more and more nervous the higher your fingers trace.
Just two fingers crawl slowly up his sides, then over his very sensitive ribs, and when you reach the spot riiiight under his armpit, you stop, just swirling around the sensitive patch of skin there.
You watch him close, your eyes never leaving his face. He’s trembling, shaking his head ever so slightly as giggles threaten to spill already. His eyes are still closed tight as he chews on his bottom lip. You can feel his legs shaking just slightly behind you- like he’s trying to calm himself down. He seems so worked up, so desperate to get away, but… you can’t help but notice that he’s not pulling quite so hard at his wrist. He’s not fighting like absolute hell anymore against your grip. Only instinctively jerking when your nails graze a little too close under his arm.
You don’t say anything about it. Not yet at least.
Slowly, ever so slowly, gentle tracing turns to soft, quick fluttering. Five fingertips right there, so very close to such a ticklish spot. Hushed, anticipatory giggles become something more frantic as his eyes widen. He turns to look at you, to watch, but he can’t. The nails so very close to tormenting him are hidden under his shirt. All he can do is feel it, and take it.
The thoughts sends a shiver down his spine as he arches his back just slightly, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“Are you nervous?”
It’s a simple question. It shouldn’t have his heart racing or his adrenaline skyrocketing, and it shouldn’t be as flustering or nerve-wracking as it is, but if he wasn’t already bright red from his current predicament, you’d be able to see the deep red flush on his cheeks.
He huffs out through his nose. If you were meaner- like someone you know- you'd remark on the silly grin on his face or the little hiccups that slip out through laughter.
His only response is a quick nod.
"Why?", your voice is soft, but there's another underlying tone. Something a little too high pitched, too patronizing for the question to be innocent. He hears it. "You shouldn't be. You went through all that trouble this morning just for this. Isn't this what you wanted?", he twists just a bit underneath you as you trail tickling fingertips down just to his top rib, and then right back up just below his armpit.
A man in a less vulnerable state would deny it. Ryland is many things, but an idiot isn't one of them. Most of the time.
He opens his mouth, starting to answer, but he freezes, breath caught in his throat when you inch your fingers up just slightly and still them completely.
You'd never heard him whimper before but you very quickly make a vow to yourself to draw the noise out of him again and again before you let him go. You feel him tense, like he's bracing himself, but you don't give him much time to be nervous about it before finding the sensitive skin under his arm, fluttering and scratching wildly.
The reaction is immediate. Frenzies squeals and desperate laughter and several apologies.
"Sorry? Why are you sorry? I'm having a great time! Aren't you?"
His head is thrown back against the mattress, and he's twisting from side to side as much as he can in this position. He manages to get his other hand free but it does absolutely nothing to help him. Something something being tickled stupid turns him into an uncoordinated, blubbering mess apparently.
He tries to respond coherently, but he can't seem to articulate exactly what he wants to say. Nor does he really know what he wants to say. He just keeps babbling out "please", especially when you wiggle your fingers in the very center of the stretched hollow, but he doesn't follow it up with "stop" or "quit".
Part of you feels at least some semblance of empathy. You've been in his very predicament, torn between craving it and finding it absolutely unbearable. And then you remember that he's the very reason you've experienced such a torment.
You just shake your head with a chuckle as you finally move from that spot, squeezing all the way down his ribs and sides just to dig your thumb into his hipbone. You start to linger there, but you're taken aback to find that that spot is the worst so far. His laughter falls silent for just a moment and his face gets impossibly redder as he arches his back, desperately trying to twist his hips left and right to get away from it.
What had been somewhat intelligible pleas become absolutely senseless, and you finally pull away.
You keep him pinned as he settles, but your hand quickly finds his face and hair, fixing his glasses before carding your fingers through soft blond locks,
"Okay, shhh, it's fine. You're fine.", you soothe, though, you aren't sure how much of it he actually comprehends over the sound of his own residual giggles.
"Breathe, bud. Real deep breaths", you take a deep breath in yourself, holding it for just a moment before letting it out, nodding and encouraging him to do the same. It takes a moment, but he does, goofy grin still on his face and all. He's still on edge, tensed up and flinching at every little move you make. You try not to laugh but you can't help it. It's cute.
He's a mess. His hair is sticking up in every direction, and he's still twitching, but it doesn't take too long for him to calm down. You watch him, still combing through his hair as he lets his head fall back.
Eventually, the steady spill of giggles dies down and you shift positions, laying beside him and pulling him against you. He clings to you immediately, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his arms around you, one of his legs thrown over yours.
You rub up and down his back soothingly as his breath evens out.
“Sooo”, you start, your voice low, but he can hear the grin on your face, “you ready to figure out what other spots make you sound like that?”
Just the mention of it is enough to draw that pretty whimper out of him again.
——————
This one feels a little weak to me but I tried not to wreck him too hard for this particular concept.
I would just like to say, I really appreciate all of you. I haven’t written in years and I truly did not expect my little fics to get such overwhelmingly positive feedback, especially as I work on strengthening my writing and getting back into the swing of it. To be gone for so long and then immediately welcomed back with open arms was more than I could ask for, and I hope my fics and silly ramblings bring you guys as much joy as your kind words bring me.
Partially I have to assume the fantasy of angel wings for at least some section of that group must be to give a sufficiently erotic-symbolic explanation for back sensitivity. Sitting on your back and gently running my fingers across the different muscles and listening to how your breathing shifts until I find just the right place to caress to leave you whimpering and moaning. You know how it is.
Phalaenopsis Red Jujube blooming on a windowsill. The strength and determination of living things is more moving to me lately. I could give in to despair but they never will
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