Yeah I'm fixated on Gakiakuta now... (THE ANIME, NO SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA PLZ).
Anyways I headcanon Zanka has a super lovely, genuine laugh when tickled. Even gentle tickles give him the giggles :D! But he'd send you flying before you even laid a finger on him. As a top cleaner, he has a reputation to uphold after! Of course, Jabber couldn't give less of a shit and wants to knock the "enemy" down a peg before bringing out the big guns.
So sorry for not giving y'all any good content recently, I've been nose deep in personal projects and my own art studies as you can tell by the improvement. I won't be participating in tktober this year unfortunately, so to those who are, have fun!
hellooo, you requested gachi asks, do you have any headcanons for a lee! Jabber with ler!Zanka?
— @jankabee
Zanka is the type of ler that doesn't initiate tickle fights/tickling but he's very easy to bait into a tickle fight because of how competitive he is and Jabber is fully aware of this and likes to take advantage of it when he's in a mood. Baiting Zanka usually means tickling/bothering him first but once he's fired up, he won't stop until Jabber literally cannot breathe anymore. He eventually makes it his personal mission to find a spot that makes Jabber tap out of a tickle fight — he has yet to succeed.
Jabber won't go down easy in a tickle fight but there's a couple spots that once you start tickling him there he can't fight back properly anymore, the first being his armpits. That's Zanka's go-to spot when Jabber starts being an ass because he can't use his arms and basically just wiggles around like a bug while screeching.
Jabber, being his sadomasochistic self, will never tap out of a tickle fight. He thinks losing control like that is fun because it triggers his fight or flight response. He wants to run away so badly but he physically cannot and that sensation is intoxicating as hell. He particularly likes Zanka as a ler because he's mean and (usually) won't stop no matter what Jabber does. In fact, there was a time Jabber had passed out during one of their tickle fights and Zanka totally freaked out. Jabber ended up waking up a couple minutes later and puking his guts out before giving Zanka the most starry-eyed expression ever and going, "Let's do that again." Zanka refused and learned to stop when Jabber's laughter goes completely silent. Jabber's been trying to get him to do that again for ages.
Zanka's also the type of ler that loves teasing people and going for their worst spots to disable them. He's typically the one that gets tickled with the Cleaners so he's very smug whenever he gets the upper hand and his whole rivalry with Jabber makes him more insufferable. He likes use Jabber's own words or actions against him when he's teasing him, like, "And here I thought I was too boring to fight" or "Look who's laughing now, jackass" (In reference to their second fight).
Most of their tickle fights start out as sparring matches that are a little too violent to be sparring. Jabber annoys Zanka until he picks a fight and then acts a fool while they're fighting until Zanka realizes what he's trying to do and starts tickling him the second he finds an opening. It's very important to note that neither of them are fully aware of their own actions or how the whole routine even started but neither of them wants to change it because it's something they both enjoy in their own way (freak4freak).
Lee!Zanka addition: Much like Jabber, Zanka refuses to tap out. However, it's because he's stubborn and competitive as hell rather than because he enjoys it. Sometimes Jabber decides he wants to do the tickling because he's curious about how Zanka will react to it and how far he can take it. So whenever he gets the upper hand by paralyzing Zanka or pinning him, he'll try to find the places Zanka is most ticklish and keep tickling him until Zanka taps out, which he almost never does. The fact that Zanka is a lot more vicious during their next tickle fight out of vengeance is only a plus for him.
Anyways, that's all I got, I hope you liked it. Thanks for the ask, @jankabee!
ding dong bing bong it is time for more tickle fic!!! this one's a fic for Ouran High School Host Club!! (mouthful of a name-) but yall know i love multiple lers so i had a lot of fun with this heehee- its short but i hope you enjoy!!
this is a fic requested by @7fredofinsanity!! thank you so much for the request!!
this is for TKTober using the prompt list by @mammillariatasay
The after-school sun streamed lazily through the tall windows of Music Room 3, painting everything in gold. Hikaru and Kaoru Hitachiin lounged across the couch, heads together, giggling over something on Hikaru's phone.
"And look at this one, look at this one," Hikaru snickered, showing his twin a video. A poor soul stood with a broom threaded through the sleeves of their sweater, arms trapped like a trussed-up scarecrow, while their friends laughed hysterically.
Kaoru grinned. "That's so dumb."
"Exactly," Hikaru said. "Perfect for the Host Club, yeah?"
Their gazes met, shared twin mischief flaring. They didn't have to say the name out loud, but both knew it.
"Tamaki," they chorused, wickedly synchronized.
-
Tamaki Suoh was humming to himself by the mirror when they found him, admiring his reflection and gently fluffing his golden hair.
"Oh, Boss!" Hikaru called, too cheerfully. "We've discovered something that could revolutionize our club's social outreach!"
Tamaki's eyes sparkled instantly. "Outreach! Yes, splendid! The world deserves to look upon our brilliance!"
Kaoru stepped forward with the sweater and broom. "See, it's this meme, Boss. All the popular influencers are doing it. You just have to wear this sweater, and we'll film it for the club's page."
Tamaki puffed out his chest. "For the good of the club, then!"
"Perfect," Hikaru said smoothly, guiding him to sit on the couch. "Arms in, now... yes, just like that..."
Kaoru looped the sleeves. Hikaru slid the broom through the openings and behind his back, and... he was trapped.
Tamaki blinked. "Ah? What's this... peculiar tightness?" He tried to lower his arms, but the sweater refused to budge. "My mobility seems... limited."
Kaoru bit back a snicker. "Yeah, that's kind of the point."
Hikaru smirked. "Congratulations, you're part of the trend now, Boss."
"Wait," Tamaki said, his smile faltering. "You mean that one meme that... the one where the person... oh dear..."
"Oh, yes," Hikaru said, circling him. "Now, what do you think happens next?"
Tamaki tried to wriggle free, only succeeding in looking like an especially panicked caterpillar. "Unhand me!! I command you as your King!!"
Kaoru poked his side gently.
Tamaki flinched, a startled giggle bursting out before he could stop it. "D-Dohon't- hhahAHAHH-!! T-That- That was a fluke-!!!"
Hikaru grinned, crouching at his other side. "A fluke, hm?" He jabbed two fingers into Tamaki's ribs.
"Oh, he's definitely ticklish," Kaoru cooed, voice dripping with false innocence. "Look at him squirm~."
"Such royal composure," Hikaru teased. "How truly dignified."
Tamaki cackled helplessly, twisting and wriggling in his sweater trap, golden hair falling over his eyes. "TrahAHhahaAHaitors!! UnHahAHahAnd your KiHihing!!!"
Kaoru slid down beside him, his touches feather-light, scribbling over Tamaki's stomach through the fabric. "Aww, the royal tummy's so sensitive~!" he teased.
Tamaki shook his head wildly, turning a bright shade of pink. "NohoHOHO!! DOhoHOHON't SahahY ThahAHhaT!!"
Hakaru had moved onto the floor, holding one of Tamaki's ankles in his grip. "And what about here, your highness~?" He ran his fingertips up the arch, quick and merciless.
"Oh, sure it is!" Kaoru said sweetly, switching to gentle traces along his ribs. "Controlled environment, hypothesis testing... repeatable results~..."
Tamaki howled, trying to curl up, only to find himself caught perfectly between them. Hikaru's tickles were rough and unrelenting, Kaoru's light and fluttery... such a deadly combination!
THe twins finally pulled back, both chuckling as Tamaki slumped against the couch, panting and rosy-cheeked. His sweater hung lopsided, the broomstick still lodged behind him like a flag of shame.
"Aww, just look at him~," Kaoru said, voice softening just a touch. "Our poor little King~..."
Hikaru smirked. "Y'think we went too easy on him?"
Tamaki growled with all the gravitas he could muster, head flopping to the side. "You fiends... Ihihi shahall... retahaliate someday..."
That was when Haruhi walked in, holding a stack of club flyers. She paused at the sight of Tamaki collapsed, sweater and broomstick tangled up, and the twins grinning from ear to ear like the guiltiest children.
"I don't even want to know," she said flatly.
Kaoru waved his phone. "It's for the club's social media! Educational content."
"Educational?"
"Sure," Hikaru said. "Educational in why you shouldn't trust us."
Tamaki blinked up at them weakly. "Youhu... youhu posted...?"
Haruhi's phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and hummed thoughtfully. "It's already got two thousand likes. Good work, you two."
Tamaki's despair echoed through the hallways. "WHAAAAAT!!!1"
The twins high-fived triumphantly as their King crumpled in melodramatic ruin.
"Worth it," Kaoru said.
"Absolutely," Hikaru agreed.
Tamaki glared up at them. "Let me out now?"
The twins looked at each other and then back at him.
"Nah," they said cheekily, turning on their heels and walking away.
And somewhere online, the laughter of the Ouran Host Club's illustrious King was immortalized forever.
oh hey there hows the family thats good thats good hey listen, this is a fic for the MCU featuring our favorite god of mischief!! for a bit of explanation, you, the reader, are a very very skilled marksman and sniper. Also, here's a five dollar word: seiðr, the type of magic practiced in Norse society and what I'm going to call Loki's magic. i hope you enjoy!!!
this is a fic requested by @burningablaze!! thank you so much for requesting!! <3333
this is for TKTober using the prompt list by @vqler
Your boots pounded against the sleek floors of the Avengers compound, breath coming in ragged gasps as you darted around another corner. Somewhere behind you, Loki's laugh, rich, sharp, and far too entertained, rolled down the hallway like a predator's growl.
"This is beneath me," you muttered under your breath, dodging past a reinforced door that you knew led to the sparring room. Honestly, you were just trying to convince yourself that you hadn't really done something that bad. "God of Mischief, my ass... more like the God of Overreacting."
The truth was, you had gone too far this time. It hadn't been your finest idea to grab a can of bright red spray paint from Tony's workshop and leave taunting graffiti all over Loki's prized cloak while he'd been distracted in the library. "Christmas colors are in fashion on Asgard! Red beats green any day!" You'd even doodled crude stick figures of Thor hammering Loki into the ground.
It was glorious... up until he found it.
Now, with every corner you turned, you swore you could hear his voice slithering through the air.
"Run faster, little mortal. I do enjoy a good chase."
You swore and pushed harder, clutching the last of your throwing knives in one hand. Your usual armament of rifles didn't exactly help at point-blank range, and right now, you'd give just about anything for some more distance between you and Loki Laufeyson.
You slid into the training room, boots skidding on polished flooring. Slamming the door shut, you pressed your back against it, chest heaving. Maybe, just maybe, you'd bought yourself a few seconds.
The overhead lights flickered.
A ripple spread across the room, and your stomach plummeted. Loki's illusions shimmered into existence, four of him at once, each smirking with the same infuriating grin. They fanned out to block the exits, long green coats (still stained with streaks of your red paint, to your satisfaction) swishing dramatically.
"Well, well," one of them drawled. "Cornered already?
"I thought you had more fight left in you."
"You really should've chosen blue. Red is such an obvious cry for attention."
The fourth chimed in, wagging a finger. "And on my cloak? Naughty, naughty..."
You gritted your teeth and hurled the knife at the closest version of him. It sliced through empty air as the illusion dispersed like mist.
"Cheap tricks," you spat, yanking another blade from your belt.
"From me?" His voice slithered behind you, low and amused. "My tricks are just fine."
Before you could spin, icy fingers clamped around your wrist, twisting the knife neatly from your grasp.
You cursed, thrashing, but in a heartbeat, glowing green tendrils of seiðr wrapped around your arms, dragging them above your head and fixing them to thin air as though chained to an invisible post. Your knives clattered uselessly to the floor. Loki stepped smoothly in front of you, emerald eyes glittering, lips curled into a grin that spelled nothing but trouble for you. Poor thing.
His ruined cloak still bore your graffiti, an obscene red smiley face sprayed right over his chest, but somehow, that only made him look more menacing. Your grave error stared you in the face along with its consequences.
"Well, look at you now," he purred, circling. "My little vandal caught red-handed. Quite literally." His gaze flicked down at the paint streaks still dried onto your gloves.
You tried to steady your voice, but panic set in fast. "L-Loki, I-I'm sorry, okay? It was just a joke, really-"
"Oh?" His brows lifted, his words laced with mock surprise. "An apology? That quickly? Well, I haven't even started." He pinched your chin and leaned in close, nose inches from yours, voice dropping to a silken whisper as he glared at you spitefully. "Do you know what victory smells like? It smells like fear."
Your chest tightened as he lifted a hand and flexed his fingers ominously.
"No, wait- hang on, let's just talk about this-!"
The first squeeze landed on your ribs, sharp and sudden. You bucked against the bindings with a yelp that instantly cracked into helpless laughter.
"L-LoHoHohOki, doHohoHOOn't-!!"
He chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers up your sides with excruciating slowness, pausing at every flinch, every squeak. "Mmm. Yes. There it is. A delightful sound. You sound almost cheerful for someone about to be undone."
You twisted, shaking your head, but the seiðr held tight. He slipped his hands under your arms, spidering maddeningly light touches into your underarms until you threw your head back, giggles bursting uncontrollably.
"Oh, that's a lovely reaction," Loki mused. "So sharp here, but softer-" He abruptly squeezed at your waist, and you shrieked. "-ahhh, there it is. Such honesty in the language of laughter."
You kicked wildly, trying to curl forward, but he only pushed your arms higher overhead with another flick of magic, exposing you more.
"P-PLEHEHEHEHehHEASe!" you gasped, tears of laughter already springing to your eyes. "IhIHihIHI sHAahhahaId IhihIHI wHhahahas soHohOhorry!!"
"You think that makes up for what you've done?" His smirk widened as he dove mercilessly back into your ribs, scribbling fast until your body convulsed with laughter. "Oh, my dear Y/N, I will paint my vengeance across your nerves until you beg me for mercy."
Your apologies only spilled faster, tumbling between broken laughter, which seemed to fuel his delight all the more.
"Beg louder," he teased, tone silken as his hands darted for your hips. "You've only just started amusing me."
Your head whipped side to side as Loki's fingers danced wickedly over your torso, tracing every seam in your combat gear.
"Such desperation," he murmured, voice syrupy with mischief. "But which is worse for you, hmm?" His hands slowed, deliberately testing. First, maddening wiggles in your underarms that left you hiccuping with giggles. Then a sudden squeeze at your knee that sent your laughter pitching up into shrieks.
"Aha~!" he crowed, triumphant. "The knee, then. My little hero cannot keep their composure."
You gasped through laughter, trying to twist away. "IHIhiHiHI'm NohOhOt- IhiHihI'm NohohoT liHihIHIttle!!"
"Oh, you are compared to me." His smirk was sharper than knives. He leaned close enough for his breath to brush your ear. "And look at that face. You don't have your mask to hide behind, none of your usual stoic calm. Just flushed cheeks and that delightful smile you try so hard to bury."
You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to conceal your face in your arm, but that only made his chuckle deepen. "Oh no, don't you dare hide from me. I'll pry every expression out of you, every laugh, until you admit just how much I own you in this moment."
Your apologies spilled out between giggles, frantic and breathless, but Loki only seemed to savor them like a horn of Asgardian ale.
"Right. Enough fumbling about," Loki declared, and with a wave of seiðr, glowing green hands bloomed from thin air, shimmering duplicates that clamped around your ankles, pulling you taut. They tickled in tandem with his real ones, scribbling mercilessly on your soles.
You screamed with laughter, thrashing around wildly, but the magic held you suspended like a helpless marionette.
"Magnificent," Loki said, eyes glittering. "Such a mighty hero reduced to nothing but laughter when I so choose. Does it tickle more when I tease..." the conjured hands dragged lazy spirals along your arches, "...or when I torment?" He lunged back into your ribs with both hands, squeezing mercilessly.
You nearly choked on your own giggles, tears streaking your cheeks. "L-LOhOhOhOKI!! IHiHihi cahahAHahnt-!"
"Oh, you can." He tilted his head, grin sharp and gleeful. "You'll laugh until I decide otherwise."
The tempo shifted constantly, slow, feather-light touches that drove you mad with anticipation, then sudden vicious squeezes that left you shrieking. Loki hummed under his breath, as though testing an instrument. "Yes... This spot here sings the sweetest," he muttered, clawing at your sides. "But here-" his fingers pinched lightly at your hips and you let out a squeal so sharp he laughed aloud, "-oh, that's worth repeating~."
"IHIHI'LL NEHEHEVER- NEHEHEVER TOUHUHUCH YOUHUHUR CLOHOHOAK AGAHAHAIN!!" you gasped between peals of laughter. "IHIHI'LL- IHIHI'LL EVEEHEHEN POHOHOLISH YOUHUHUR BOOHOOTS- JUHUHUST STOHOHOP!"
Loki's eyes lit with malicious amusement. "Polish my boots? How quaint. You think your petty chores will buy my mercy?" He leaned in close, brushing a single finger under your chin, making you giggle despite the fleeting touch. "No, no, little mortal. Your laughter is worth far more than any groveling."
He dipped to your ear, whispering so softly it made your stomach flip even as you laughed helplessly. "So fragile for someone who calls themselves a warrior. So very easy to undo." His hands darted back to your underarms, and you broke into unrestrained cackles.
"P-pLEEHehEHASE, IhIhI MEhEHEHAN IhIHIHIT!" you begged. "IHIHI'LL DOOHOHOOO AHAHANYTHIHIHING!!"
"Anything?" Loki echoed, savoring the word. He tickled more slowly now, deliberate and cruel, making you gasp between each laugh. "Then admit to me that you are mine to play with."
Through hiccupy giggles, you choked out, "IhihIHI- IHiHII'M YOUHUHURS!! JUHUHUHUHUST STOHOHOHOHOP-!!!"
"Lovely," he purred, though his fingers never faltered.
At last, after what felt like hours but could only have been minutes, the green bindings dissolved. Your body dropped in a heap onto the floor, limbs trembling, lungs gasping for air. You curled onto your side, giggling uncontrollably as the aftershocks rippled through you.
Loki stood above, utterly composed, not a hair out of place, though the crimson graffiti still marred his cloak in bold streaks. He regarded you with cool satisfaction, like a cat who had toyed with a mouse until it lay too exhausted to flee.
"I-Ihihihihi'll wahahahsh ihihit!!" you blurted through lingering laughter, still sprawled on the floor. "Ihihihi swehehehear, Ihihihi'll wahahash the pahaint out... cleheheaner than befohohore... untihihihil it shihines like it's nehehew... juhust plehehease dohohon't... dohohohon't..." A helpless giggle cut you off, leaving you breathless.
Loki smirked, tilting his head. "That will be good, for a start."
With a theatrical swirl of his ruined cloak, he turned and strode from the room, leaving you sprawled on the training floor, breathless, aching, and very aware of your poor life choices.
A few minutes later, the door hissed open again, and you turned your head to see Sam and Bucky walking in with their duffel bags of equipment. They took one look at you and chuckled.
"Yeah," Sam nodded, "Training's like that some days."
Bucky grinned, bending down to ruffle your hair. "It gets easier with time."
"Wh-" You furrowed your brows, then understood. They thought you were totally wiped from a workout. Yes. Okay. Alright, you could work with this. "Y-yeah, those uhm... those lunges were killer."
The two men ahh-ed with understanding.
"You should have stretched first," Sam told you.
"-should have stretched first," Bucky said, a few seconds behind. He pursed his lips and gently hit Sam in the shoulder for saying it first.
"Y-yeheah, I'll do better next time..." you whined softly, although your meaning was different from what they thought. One thing's for sure, you weren't gonna pull a stunt like that on Loki again...
...At least, not in the near future. A month from now, all bets are off. Maybe he'll be a better sport next time.
...huh? oh! hey there!! didnt see you there, creepin in the shadows, fangs glistening, hungry for the souls of the damned! hiiiii! this is another long tickle fic and its for the hit roblox game Pressure!! i hope you enjoy it!!
this is a fic requested by [REDACTED]!! thank you so much for the request!! <3333
this is for TKTober using the prompt list by @august-anon
Feeling the Pressure
Words: 4,072
Pairing: Lee!Reader, some Ler!Sebastian
Warnings: Intense tickles, some foot tickles- also you die!!! tw death
Prompt: Spell
The corridor ahead breathed with that faint, mechanical hum you only ever notice when you're moving too fast. To anyone else, it might have been a suffocating silence, the quiet before some anomaly lunged out of the dark. But to you, it was a rhythm, a pattern. Every drip of condensation from the pipework, every hiss of a pressure valve, even the distant groan of shifting metal, it was all familiar music to you. You've done this run enough times to know its ins and outs.
The Hadal Blacksite was not forgiving, not by a mile. However, if you listened carefully, it was predictable. Every time you died, you knew with grim certainty that it was your fault, and that next time, you would be more prepared than the last.
Your boots scraped across the grating as you swung into another side chamber. Door... 27, if your count was correct. A half-collapsed storage nook, fluorescent lights buzzing like overgrown gnats. Your eyes swept the corners automatically: no shadows crawling where they shouldn't and no misplaced breathing. Clear.
That is when you saw it, lying on a crate in the center of the room like someone had just set it down and walked away.
Not Kroner, and not a breacher either.
It looked like a toy at first, something you'd hand to a kid, except... wrong. A crystalline rod, maybe the length of your forearm, capped with a jagged bulb of translucent glass. Strange grooves spiraled down the shaft like veins, glowing faintly with a pale lavender pulse. Every few seconds, the light shivered, like it was laughing at you.
You frowned, stepping closer. Urbanshade's junk usually looked... clinical, industrial. This was downright whimsical.
Still, you'd learned long ago that ignoring anomalies meant leaving potential tools on the table. You reached out and touched it. Cold... then warm, like it was shifting temperature to unsettle you.
When you lifted it, the grooves glowed brighter.
"...Huh."
The thought came half out of your mouth before you realized it. The weight was nothing, feather-light, almost begging to be waved around. And so, like the reckless idiot every runner is sometimes, you did.
With a flick of your wrist, a burst of air puffed across the crate, scattering dust over the far side of the room. Your eyebrows shot up.
You tried again, this time at the nearby wall. A faint shimmer traced the concrete before fading.
You grinned. "Okay, that's new."
Curiosity always burns hotter than caution. You aimed at a discarded barrel in the corner and gave it a playful swish. The thing vibrated, rattling like someone had shaken it from the inside. You stifled a laugh. This was harmless, whatever it was. Harmless and... weirdly fun.
And then you made the mistake of aiming it at yourself.
A ghost of pressure, no, of fingers, skimmed your wrist. You jerked, biting back a startled laugh. It stopped as quickly as it started, like the wand was teasing you.
You shook your head, chuckling nervously. "A-Alright, that's... a little much."
You twirled it again, amused. Maybe it was like the Toy Remote, one of those anomalies that were more joke than threat. Look, if Urbanshade wanted to stockpile silly artifacts from a clown's reject bin, that was their problem. For you, right now, it meant you had something to play with during the in-between.
And play you did, all the way down the next hallway. You poked it at pipes and watched them hiss louder. You flicked it at the flickering lights and made them spark. At one point, you even swished it at a door, just to see if it would magically open. (It didn't.)
The problem was, while you were amusing yourself, you weren't listening.
The metal scream hit first, the sound of claws dragging down steel from somewhere behind. Then the rush, that telltale hiss of water flooding through pipes at impossible speed. Your stomach sank. Angler!
You darted forward, scanning for cover. The lights in the hall dipped, then blazed with sickly brightness.
The locker! Your eyes locked on the battered storage unit set against the wall. No time to think, just move!
You yanked the door open, slid inside, and pulled it shut. Darkness swallowed you whole, except for the faint pulse of lavender light from the wand still clenched in your hand.
Your breath came shallow. You pressed yourself against the back of the locker, forcing the air out of your lungs, listening.
The Angler thundred past. Its roar echoed down the corridor, rattling the metal skin of your hiding place. For a moment, you thought it might stop. Then, silence. It was gone.
Relief washed through you, but it was short-lived because that's when you heard it.
A wet slurp from behind.
You froze. The smell hit next, like iron and rot, clinging to the back of your throat. Then the sound again, a ripple, a shift.
You tilted your head down, every nerve screaming denial.
Black sheen glistened in the faint glow of the wand. A puddle of void-mass. In the locker. With you.
Your heart kicked into overdrive. The space was too small, too tight. Nowhere to run. You'd trapped yourself.
The puddle shifted, tendrils lifting lazily like smoke, curling toward you. It didn't need to rush, you were cornered prey. Your grip on the wand tightened until your knuckles ached.
The thing inched closer. Your mind scrambled for options. None. No way out, no plan.
Desperation whispered.
You raised the wand, aimed it shakily behind you at the mass. Your hand moved before your brain caught up, flicking the crystal tip in the slightest, most pitiful gesture of defiance.
Light flared.
The void-mass convulsed.
For a moment, you thought it was going to explode. Then you realized it was quivering. Like it had been shocked with a thousand tiny pinpricks. The tendrils jerked, squirmed. The puddle rippled violently, spasming against the locker walls. Were those... squeaks you heard?
It looked... like it was laughing.
You blinked, sweat dripping down your temples. "No way," you whispered.
The wand pulsed again, and the puddle recoiled hard, smashing itself against the far corner of the locker to get away from the unseen phantom fingers tormenting it. You almost laughed yourself, half in hysteria and half in disbelief.
"Y-yeah," you breathed, voice shaking but edged with a grin. "And stay back!"
Slowly, cautiously, you reached for the locker handle. Your pulse still thundered in your ears.
You eased the door open and stepped out into the hall, never breaking eye contact with the puddle still writhing inside.
The moment you were clear, the puddle shot a tendril forward and slammed the locker door shut behind you with a metallic clang.
You didn't look back. You just gripped the wand tighter and started walking.
The door slid shut behind you with its heavy pneumatic hiss, and the first thing you did was collapse against the wall. Your lungs burned, your legs ached, and sweat slicked down the back of your neck.
Safe room at last.
The dim amber glow of the ceiling lights buzzed faintly overhead, the closest thing to comfort this place ever offered. The air was dry here, scrubbed clean of the chemical stench and saltwater tang that clung to the rest of the facility. Your whole body sagged in relief. You'd made it.
You looked down at the wand still clutched in your hand. Its grooves pulsed softly, almost smug.
You laughed weakly, the sound pressing against the sterile walls. "What... even are you?"
A void-puddle tickled into submission. The thought still made you shake your head in disbelief. You could already hear Sebastian's dry commentary in your head: "Ohh, yes, we catalogued that anomaly months ago. Harmless, unless you happen to be particularly sensitive."
Sensitive! The memory of that fleeting brush across your wrist earlier flickered through you, and you found yourself staring at the crystalline tip a little too long.
Curiosity gnawed at you again. You were safe. You had time. And no one was watching.
You sat down on the metal bench, holding the wand with a shaking hand. Slowly, carefully, you aimed it at your opposite forearm.
The glow brightened.
A feather-light stroke traced along the fine hairs of your skin. You flinched, breath catching in your throat. A high, startled laugh bubbled out of you before you could bite it back.
It stopped the second you lowered the wand.
You blinked down at your arm. Nothing there. No mark, no sensation lingering. Just the echo of that laugh in the empty room.
"...Oh, no..." you murmured, heart racing.
Because you already knew what was going to happen next.
You raised it again, this time toward your side. The crystal hummed.
Phantom fingers darted against your ribs, quick and relentless. You yelped, twisting sideways on the bench, a helpless giggle tearing loose. The invisible touches spread upward, brushing against your underarm, then darting down your stomach.
"AhahHAHA! OkahAHAHY okAhahaAY-!" You gasped, lowering the wand instinctively.
The tickling vanished.
You doubled over, panting, cheeks burning hot. Your whole body trembled with adrenaline.
It was real. Not just some silly parlor trick, not just a breeze or vibration. Actual tickling, impossible, entirely invisible, but... undeniable.
And worse... it responded to you.
You swallowed, staring at the thing. Any sane runner would have shoved it in their pack, locked it away until the fishy shopkeep could dissect it. But sanity had fled the moment you'd seen that void-puddle slam the door shut behind you, that monster which had ended so many previous runs for you, now scared of that wand's abilities.
You had to know.
You aimed again, this time at your stomach.
The wand pusled. A dozen phantom fingertips skittered across your belly at once. You shrieked, doubling over, arms wrapping tight as though that could shield you. The harder you tensed, the more insistent the invisible touches became, scribbling patterns that stole the breath from your lungs. It was trying to show you exactly how helpless you were.
"St-StOHoHoHOhOhOP!! OhOhOMyHyHYGohOhOD, StoHoHoHOP!!" Your voice cracked between helpless laughter.
And when you flicked the wand sideways in your struggle, the effect changed.
Phantom feathers now. Silky-soft, draaaagging across your neck, down the insides of your arms. You collapsed onto your side of the bench, kicking helplessly, laughter spilling without control.
Each motion with the wand shifted the sensation. A jab forward sent blunt pokes down your sides, staccato bursts that made you squeal. A twist of the wrist summoned ghostly invisible hands to squeeze at your waist, fingers dancing mercilessly.
It was like the wand was reading you, learning just where to press the hardest. Every flick unlocked a new tickly torment.
Your giggles bounced off the walls, echoing back at you like a chorus. You tried to smother them against your sleeve, but it didn't matter. No one could hear you here but yourself.
"Y-YouhUHUHu're NoHohOt RehHehhEal," you wheezed at the phantom fingers scribbling across your ribs, trying to will them out of existence. "Y-youHuHuhu're- juHuHuhUst- hEhehEHheE!! aAN OhOhOhObject-!!"
The wand pulsed brighter, as though amused.
The invisible touch slid down to your knees, spidering behind them until you kicked out violently, nearly dropping the wand. Your laughter broke into gasps, then shrieks, until you jammed the tip against the floor in desperation.
Everything stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening. Your chest heaved. Your arms wrapped protectively around your middle as if to shield yourself from something still there. Tears stung in your eyes from laughing too hard. Had you ever laughed this hard before?
You sat there for a long moment, shaking, before daring to pick the wand back up.
It flowed faintly again, innocently, like it hadn't just wrung you out like a rag doll.
Your lips curled into a dazed, breathless smile. "Y-youhuhu're dahangerous."
The wand pulsed as you set it down, but your mistake was when you pointed it towards you without thinking. The wand pulsed again, brighter than before, as if it had only been toying with you up until now. Before, it was just testing your sensitivity. You barely had time to register that thought before it hit you.
Phantom hands multiplied.
They came from everywhere at once! Curling under your arms, scribbling down your sides, kneading the backs of your knees until your legs kicked violently against the bench. Another set latched onto your feet, phantom fingers digging mercilessly at your arches and toes.
The laugh that ripped out of you didn't even sound human. It was raw, breathless, bursting out of you in helpless waves.
"AhahAHA!! NoHoHO!! NOhohOnoNOnOnOHOhO!!!" Your pleas dissolved into shrieking laughter. You twisted, rolled off the bench, hit the floor hard, and still couldn't escape the invisible touches.
Everywhere at once!
Ribs squeezed. Toes wiggled uncontrollably as phantom nails traced circles. Your stomach quivered beneath dozens of unseen fingertips. Each new wave layered over the last until your mind fuzzed with static, nothing but laughter and panic.
You couldn't even catch your breath. Tears blurred your vision, stinging hot as they spilled down your cheeks.
You tried grabbing the wand, tried to force it still, but every movement just triggered something new. A jab sent buzzing pokes at your sides. A twist unleashed a storm of feathers under your chin. When you dropped it for a moment in desperation, it only hummed brighter, punishing you with phantom hands clamping at your hips.
You couldn't think, couldn't process. It was like a curse, dragging you deeper into its rhythm. Your body convulsed, rolling on the sterile floor, half-sobbing between shrieks of laughter.
"HAhahAHHAHAHH-!! StHahHAHA- StHahaHAHAP!! PleHEhEHEHEASE!!!" Your voice was shredded, laughter breaking into hiccups.
It didn't listen.
You clawed at the ground, trying to crawl away, but your legs buckled as ghostly fingers dug into the backs of your knees again. Your arms flailed, catching nothing but air. Each desperate motion only seemed to please the wand more!
The intensity peaked, phantom touches everywhere, impossible to defend, your mind splintering into pure sensation. For one horrifying moment, you wondered if it would just keep going until you passed out entirely.
And then... silence.
The air stilled. Your body collapsed, boneless, onto the cool floor.
You lay there, gasping, chest heaving like you'd sprinted a mile at full tilt. Sweat plastered your hair to your forehead. Your uniform clung damp to your back. Every muscle trembled, weak from laughing too hard, too long.
The wand rested beside you, humming faintly, innocent as a lullaby.
You wiped your eyes with a shaking sleeve, giggles still bubbling out uncontrollably in aftershocks. Your ribs ached. Your throat was raw.
"... O-okahahay," you croaked, voice rough. "N-nehever... nehehever again."
Your hand twitched, reaching for the wand, then hesitated.
"M-mahaybe... maybe again lahater..."
The glow pulsed once, as if agreeing.
Getting back on your feet took longer than you wanted to admit. Your legs shook like you were balancing on a tightrope, each step unsteady. You shoved the wand into your belt, still wary of what it might do if you held it too long.
You staggered toward the door. Safe room time was over.
The hallway outside felt colder than usual. Your ears rang faintly, whether from leftover laughter or the facility's hum, you couldn't tell. You forced yourself forward, trying to shake the fog out of your head.
Moving into the next room, you heard it: mechanical whirring, servos clicking.
Searchlights.
Your stomach dropped.
Its massive body floated far above you, gleaming eyes scanning, its harpoons bristling with anticipation. Typically, you would've timed its patrol path, ducked between its blind spots, or maybe tossed an item to distract. Easy.
But your limbs weren't listening. Your knees still wobbled. Your head still spun. Every nerve was fried, twitching with phantom echoes of tickling that weren't even there anymore.
You moved too slowly.
The creature spun toward you, screeching with static. A beam of light shot out, line-of-sight locking onto you instantly. Your heart lurched.
"W-wait, no, I-!"
Too late.
The harpoons lashed forward. Pain exploded through your chest as the world fractured into black.
There was the liminal nothingness between runs, a void, and then, of course...
...Sebastian.
The lamp burned between you, outlining his sharp features in mocking glow. His arms folded across the counter as he leaned in, smirk already tugging at his mouth.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice like sandpaper dipped in oil. "Back again, and so soon. Didn't make it too far, did we~?"
You winced, heat flooding your cheeks. You couldn't meet Sebastian's eyes. "Got distracted," you muttered.
"Distracted?" His tone wrapped around the word like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all day. He slid the document for the Searchlights forward, flipping it open, but it didn't interest either of you now. "How tragic. Shall I hazard a guess at the cause?"
Your blush deepened. Your hand pressed against your belt, and you felt a little disappointed at not finding the wand there, that stupid, cursed wand.
He tapped the counter with a long, clawed finger, smile widening. "No need to confirm. I can see it written all over your face. Whatever you picked up, it seems it had more... influence over you than any other entity in the facility."
Your throat tightened. "It's not like that."
"Mmm." His eyes glinted, unconvinced, as his glowing bulb drifted overhead. "Of course not. You simply forgot how to run properly after spending some quality time in a safe room with some artifact designed for...? Survey says? Pleasure, defense?" He chuckled, low and cruel. "Perhaps something else~?"
You nearly choked on your own spit. "I-! It-! That's-!"
He raised a hand, silencing you with a lazy wave. "No matter. The point stands. It killed you as surely as any monster could have. A pity that you lost it, though. I would have liked to examine it myself."
You slumped, mortified, wishing the dark would swallow you whole.
Sebastian leaned closer, grin wicked. "Next time, try to survive long enough to bring it back to me, hm? I'd very much enjoy... experimenting."
You groaned, burying your face in your hands.
"Distracted," he repeated softly, savoring the word.
The shop lights flickered, mocking you, then went dark.
The next run began cleaner, sharper.
You pushed out of the starting room with your shoulders squared, jaw set. The echoes of the last death clung to you like static, but this time, you weren't letting yourself slip. No wandering thoughts. No stupid distractions.
Room after room, you moved with precision. Your steps were measured, weapons ready, eyes darting over every corner. Entities barely slowed you. You cleared puzzles in record time without backtracking. Your breathing was steady, calm, and collected.
It was almost perfect.
Redemption.
By the time you were crawling through the vent into the shop, you were buzzing with relief. Your pulse slowed and your grip loosened. Seeing Sebastian, lounging in his little room as though the world didn't exist outside his shop, it almost made you smile.
Then you saw it.
On the stand behind him, propped neatly as though it were a priceless artifact: the wand.
Your heart plummeted.
Of course it had come back here. Of course it hadn't vanished into nothingness like other anomalies sometimes did. Of course! No, it was here, gleaming faintly, mocking you with its soft little hum.
Sebastian followed your gaze and smirked. "Ah. I see you've noticed the new addition to my collection."
You swallowed, throat dry. "...Why do you have that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" He leaned back, gesturing to it like a curator unveiling his finest work. "Recovered artifacts always return here, eventually. This one was practically eager." His voice lowered, sly. "I imagine you know why that is."
Heat flared in your cheeks. "Y-you don't-"
"Oh, but I do!" He plucked the wand from the shelf, holding it delicately between his claws like a poisonous plant. "Its properties are fascinating. A semi-sentient anomaly, designed to pacify the monsters of the Hadal Blacksite nonviolently. It seems to respond to stress responses, such as laughter and panic, but especially resistance. Multiplying phantom stimuli until the subject is overwhelmed. Quite ingenious, really. I call it a Pacification Tool, a tickling generator."
The word landed like a slap to the face. Tickling.
Your stomach twisted. Sebastian had said it so casually! As if he were discussing a lock-picking set or a keycard.
Sebastian tilted his head, studying you. His grin sharpened. "Curious. Some runners can endure it with minimal trouble. Others, however..." His bright blue eyes flicked deliberately toward you. "...cannot handle its effects in the slightest."
You prayed that the floor would eat you alive.
"You d-don't-" you stammered, defensive, your voice pitching higher. "You don't know that's what happened."
"Don't I?" He leaned forward, wand resting lazily against his palm. "One moment, you're alive, you find this item, and bring it into the saferoom. Twenty minutes later, you stumble out of the saferoom dazed, breathless, and die to the Searchlights like a novice. And now, you can't even look at this wand without blushing. Tell me again how I'm incorrect?"
You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "If you say one more word, I swear-"
"Swear what?" His smile widened, all teeth.
"T-The very next flash beacon I find-"
His face twitched. He tapped the wand against the counter, slow, taunting. "Fine, then. For a demonstration-"
You froze. "W-wait. Don't even think about it-!"
Too late.
He flicked his wrist.
The wand burst to life brighter than before. It recognized you, and it remembered every spot on your body. Phantom hands exploded around you, not just the fingers this time, but brushes, combs, little pokers of air scratching across every vulnerable inch. Your underarms were attacked at once, bristles dragging in dizzying circles. Your ribs jolted as invisible comb teeth jabbed rhythmically. Your feet lit up with flickering pokes, heels to toes, while brushes swept cruelly over your arches.
You shrieked, stumbling backward. "SebAHAHAHHSTIAHAHAN!! HAHAHAHAHAH NONONOOAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!"
Your body folded, laughter ripping out of you uncontrollably. It was sharper this time, more complex, as though the wand was proudly showing off all the new tricks it could do. You collapsed onto the floor, writhing, grabbing at empty air while phantom tools shredded every ounce of control you had left.
"HAHAHAHAH- P-PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! STAHAHAHAHHAHAA-!! G-GOHOHOHOD, NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHREE!!!" Your words broke into squeals as something that felt like a feather duster fluttered against your neck.
"Interesting. It really, really likes you." Sebastian's laugh cut through, rich and amused. "It's incredible. I can practically feel how happy the wand is, getting to tickle you again. You must be more sensitive than I thought. Just look at you."
You kicked helplessly, tears streaming down your face, throat aching with laughter. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All you could see was the shopkeeper's silhouette above you, perfectly composed, amused like this was the best entertainment he'd had in months. To be honest, it probably was.
"Oh, I don't think you are." He twirled the wand in his fingers, and the phantom brushes redoubled on your stomach, circling your belly button mercilessly. "For that, you'd have to stand up first."
You convulsed, shrieking, laughter pouring out until your voice cracked.
Finally, finally, the pressure eased. The phantoms vanished, leaving you in a crumpled heap on the shop floor, wheezing and giggling uncontrollably. Your body tingled, trembling with aftershocks.
Sebastian slid the wand back onto the shelf as casually as one might set down a quill. "Effective, isn't it?"
You lay there, sprawled, sweat-drenched, cheeks blazing red. You wanted to be furious, to scream at the fish who had just tormented you. Instead, another laugh sputtered out of you, breathless and broken. "Ihihihi... hahahate youhuhu," you gasped between giggles.
He leaned down low, grin wicked. "You'll thank me later. Now, are you gonna buy anything?" He gestured toward his tail, full of items you'd need for the run.
You glared up at him, still too weak to stand. Then, you turned your gaze to the wand.
Sensing what you were about to demand, he cut you off before you could start. "It's not for sale. Consider it insurance."
You pointed a shaky finger up at him. "Y-youhuhu... are soho dead. Nehext run, Ihihi'm getting you bahack. Mahark myhy words."
Sebastian chuckled, straightening, utterly unbothered. "Uh-huh, right, looking forward to it."
i like to put everything in a perfect world, so i think that a good wrecking would be helpful for evil morty. give that boy some joy back in his life. gentle to where it wont freak him out (a way out, a focus on sillyness, etc), but enough to get his head out of evil plans and being stressed out about everything. do we understand what im saying does this make any sense
(first time writing these fics don’t me bully me if anyones out of character guys </3)
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HollyBerry cookie was in an intense moment. Sweat dripping down her face, with a scowl branded. She was starting to get tired… Eternal sugar cookie wasn’t even trying!- Almost napping at HollyBerry’s attempts to fight her off while her kingdom was being evacuated. HollyBerry called out to Eternal sugar, who was almost asleep on a cloud. “You won’t get to my kingdom! Wretched beast!” Eternal sugar chuckled, then yawned… a deceiving sound from her. “Oh… Hollyberry cookie… you’re always sooooo… mmmhm… tense…” HollyBerry raised a brow, then steeled her face again. “I am NOT tense! My mind is passionate as my soulstone, and I will not let you take it!” She flashed her shield, her soulstone almost crackling at her overwhelming passion and love for her kingdom. But that was soon disrupted as eternal sugar suddenly flew by, and in a flash. Her once proud shield was laid abandoned on the ground, while she was in the air with her arms held above her head. Eternal sugar holding her wrists tightly. Eternal sugar flapped down onto the cloud she would rest on. Laying Hollyberry on her back, and securing her wrists together with one of her harp strings. Her eyes half-lidded in laziness, and a almost evil smirk on her lips. She cooed. “Nowww… Holllyyy… you should reallllyy… like… just rellax… It would be to greattt… fooorr… mmhm… you…” HollyBerry’s face was full of fear and uncertainty as what was the powerhouse of a beast cookie was know holding her down… their hands drifting towards her… She tried to keep her eyes open, trying to keep her pride strong, her mind ready for anything… but… she was scared… her eyes tightly shut in anticipation and slight fear. But instead of a ripping and crashing pain… she felt… scratches?… A giggle rose up in her throat, she opened her eyes. Seeing Eternal sugar cookie drifted above her, her hands lightly scratching each of her underarms. Tracing in fast yet light circles. Eternal sugar seemed satisfied… she teased once more. “Oh… whatss… thee… matter… ‘Great HollyBerry’…? what are you laughhhingg at..???” HollyBerry’s lips were suddenly held captive with a smile, as she started to thrash. Her light giggles turning into laughter, her eyes fluttering closed again. “Gah!- Haha!!- AHAA!! Hahaahahah!!- Whataatatt!— Arrharar!!— Youhh dhoing!!-“ She started to try to shield herself, arching her back as she tried to break her wrists free. But her arms were trapped in the torment Erternal sugar was trapping her in. HollyBerry cookie felt herself to start to lose control of her body, she started to kick in defense while she still had a big laughing smile on her face. Although, Eternal sugar just effortlessly put down her legs. Her hands sliding down to her sides, swirling them around quickly. Causing HollyBerry to squawk in reaction, her face started to turn red in embarrassment… Eternal sugar commented. “your… aaas…. pinnkk as… your soul-jam… hehehe…” HollyBerry was too caught up in her own laughs to snark back… After what felt like hoourrrss… Eternal sugar came to a stop. Leaving HollyBerry with a big smile, and breathless. She gasped, sweating. “Yhhyh… yhyhhhoourr… evil…” Eternal sugar smiled… “Oh… Just relaxxxx… We were made to juussstt… rellaxx… Relax, Holly.”
HollyBerry felt her eyes fluttering closed, her muscles relaxing as she passed out. Eternal Sugar just laid on the cloud next to her. Snoring away… Her logic always was, “Maybe just a quick nap…”
ler: she's a mischievous but gentle ler, she'll wrap her victims in her wings for both restraints and comfort, and very often uses her feathers as well, cooing is her specialty, after she's done with the tickle session, she'll let her victim nestle in her wings
lee: she's very sensitive to feather tickles especially around her neck and shoulders, if you poke underneath her wings by a single poke she'll squeal and her squeals are very ladylike, but she'll enjoy your tickles because it keeps her company
🃏💙 shadow milk cookie💙🃏
ler: oh boy, you're kinda done for..this deceitful jester is verrrrrry teasingly merciless, he'll definitely use tickle-talk and get you flustered and after you're flushed he'll say "awww, is my little cookie all flushed~?" yup, he's a teaser alright
lee: honestly, an adorable shrilly jester, he'll get cackling pretty quickly especially if you go under his bangs and raspberries..ohoho.. he'll hate ya but it's fucking worth it, pure vanilla DEFINITELY thinks so
🔥❤️ burning spice cookie❤️🔥
ler: what could have you POSSIBLY done to make him do this to you, anyways, absolutely sadistic and evil, he likes to make his victims beg for mercy but guess what? after he's done with you, he's clingy asf ;3
lee: mwehehe >:3 good job.. you may have found the most ticklish cookie ever, unfortunately for him but fortunately for you his shirt is off which means more access >:3
❇️🤍 mystic flour cookie🤍❇️
ler: she'll hardly do it but when she finds out you're ticklish in general or you do something to her that makes her punish you with it, she's pretty good at it, she's a quiet teaser but she'll speak when she feels like it
lee: verrrrry squeaky and squirmy as well, but she'll let you do it since she wants you to be satisfied and happy
what if i say that in my headcanon when shadow milk cookie is not in his original form and he gets a fit of uncontrolled laughter he is forced to transform back into his cookie form.. .. ..
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
i need to stop.
mal's gremlin spot @quiet-gremlin - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
