୨ৎ if you choose to run away with me (i will tickle you eternally)
⤷ tags: ryland grace x reader tickle fluff, 1.2k words
⤷ summary: the two times ryland notices that you like it, that you want more: the one time he confronts you.
⤷ author's note: courtesy of my favorite line in mary on a cross
"so you agree then."
"what?" your voice comes out squeakier than intended.
"you want," ryland whispers tauntingly. "to be tickled by me."
the first time ryland notices, it's subtle.
you're reaching for something on the shelves. out of the corner of his eye, a silver of skin peeks out at him under your shirt. he can't help it: it's right there, all smooth and soft and ticklish.
you were basically begging for it.
that's what justifies the frankly, quite cruel action in ryland's head. he simply couldn't resist- the thought of your body squirming and bright laughter pouring out of you is more than enough to sway his judgement. his hands creep towards you and land a series of rapid squeezes over your bare sides.
"a-ahAHA," you burst into giggles, horrified to find that the element of surprise has made the sensation ten times worse. ryland picks up on it- of course he does. he makes a mental note to sneak up on you more often. his fingers follow you, tickling as you slowly go limp, curling up on the floor.
evidenced by his crinkling smile, ryland finds this ordeal immensely hilarious. he reaches up, easily grabbing the jumpsuit off the locker shelf and handing it to you.
you glare at him, pouting petulantly on the floor, refusing to accept his olive branch. ryland's eyebrow twitches upward. you want more? he seems to question. his hands form claws, opening and closing.
you blush and grab the jumpsuit from his hands, refusing to meet his eyes.
ryland doesn't miss the way you stare at his teasing hands for far too long, nor the ghost of a crestfallen face as you leave to change into your jumpsuit.
the second time ryland notices.
there is something about ryland's hands. they are mesmerizing in a way that makes you stare.
your eyes can't help but trace the outlines of his soft fingers as they shuffle with paperwork, the crevices folding and unfolding. his left hand runs across his blonde hair, carving a path of runes.
his fingers tap, tap, tap across the surface of the table as he ponders over something, and you squirm, almost imperceptible. your brain envisions unholy things- his digits running across your skin. scratching. scribbling. tickling.
what the hell.
ryland's head turns in your direction, ever so slightly. you panic, and occupy yourself with stacking random papers on your desk. out of your peripheral, you can sense the corner of ryland's lip twitch in amusement.
it doesn't help your case at all when your trembling hands knock pieces of paper away from your messy pile, floating and cascading across the room. one lands directly next to ryland. he quirks an eyebrow.
"fuck." you murmur under your breath as you scoot down to pick it up. ryland raises his other brow.
"language.” he emphasises with a quick, gentle scribble at the back of your neck and you fold with a yelp, clutching the floorboards as though you could melt through them if you tried hard enough.
you pick up your piece of paper. the white gleams at you. pointedly. the fluttering traces of ryland’s fingers linger on your neck, teasing but not quite there.
ryland's already turned back to his work: you gawk at him. then back at the piece of paper- a desperate manifestation of your need.
"please tickle me. more." the words are slipping off the tip of your tongue, but your embarrassment swallows them down, down, down your throat and into your stomach until nothing remains.
you miss the entertained spark present in ryland's eye in your tickle-less misery.
the third time, ryland doesn't notice. he confronts.
"you like it."
"hmm?" you can't recall what you're doing, but something in his tone makes you glance up, curious.
"the tickling."
it's abrupt, the splutter that explodes out of you. your insides churn. you open your mouth to protest. then close it. you're half-convinced you look like a gaping fish.
ryland's scrutinising you like he's watching a puppy chase her tail in circles. his eyes are all wide and doting, catching your every miniscule movement.
"that- that wasn't a question." you manage to say.
"that wasn't an answer."
a pause. one that you don't trust. if it were anyone else, you would've thought that they had already let it go. but ryland grace doesn't just let things go. he starts intrigued: then he pushes, and he shoves, until every single one of his hypotheses are proved.
and you've just become his newest experiment.
"noho, look at me."
your eyes flicker hesitantly to meet his lens-covered ones, and to his delight, your cheeks tint a rosy pink.
"so you agree then."
"what?" your voice comes out squeakier than intended.
"you want," ryland whispers tauntingly. "to be tickled by me."
a string of stutters and protests pour out of your mouth. that doesn't deter ryland in the slightest. the way he looks at you, all fond and teasing, is too much to bear.
"okay,” his voice is factual. serious. “i won't tickle you, then."
and you know him well enough- ryland will follow through. a whine of frustration builds up in your throat.
"ryland." you clear your throat. you attempt to bargain with your pleading gaze.
"yes?"
you sigh.
"please." the walls suddenly look very interesting to you.
"please what?" you can practically feel the mischief radiating off of him.
"...please tickle me."
it comes out as a garble of syllables, the dreaded word spreading heat across your face. but despite the incoherency, this just about satisfies ryland. in a split second, he’s already making his way towards you.
oh, fuck.
you scamper across the room, ryland and his smirk swiftly following.
"w-wahait!" your hands are held in front of you as a weak means of defence.
"wait for what?" ryland laughs at the absurdity.
you struggle to find a proper response. instead, you dance around the room, evading his every step. ryland's circling you like prey and you can't help it- an anticipatory giggle bubbles up your throat.
"noho, back off!"
"but if i back off," the cocky grin on ryland's face is contagious. "how will i tickle you?"
he reaches for you and a gasp erupts from your mouth.
"bad grace!" you must be picking up rocky's vocabulary.
"did you just scold me," ryland snorts. "like a dog? you are so dead."
you whimper when ryland lunges for you, managing to duck past his arm. but when he grabs a handful of your shirt and reels you into his chest, a pair of strong arms wrapping around your stomach, you realise that ryland is always right- you are so dead.
"hi," he whispers into your ear for dramatic effect, laughing at your whimper as you glance back at him.
ryland drums his fingers, gently against your waistline. your hands circle his wrists, tugging them away but they don't budge an inch. even now, you can't help but stare at his fingers. intoxicating. calculating. tickling.
ryland notices, flexing them intentionally.
"where should i tickle, baby?"
oh god.
"noho- nohowhehre," your voice breaks off into helpless giggles when he claws gently around your stomach.
"i thought you wanted this!" ryland has the audacity to pout at you.
"shuhut uhp!"
"did you just shush me? hmm?" he vibrates his hands into your ribcage and a squeal escapes from you. "that was pretty rude of you."
you try and fail to pry his wrists away from your torso. ryland conveniently decides to ignore the way you're slowly going limp in his arms, landing stray scribbles over your sides as he holds you upright.
"had enough?"
you look back, mirth-coated eyes meeting his.
"oh my god." ryland laughs, a loud, genuine sound. like this is the funniest fuckin' sight he's ever come across. "oh my god, you really like this."
you forget how to talk.
in your embarrassed state, you spin in his grasp to face him, before your own hands skitter up his sides and into the hollows of his armpits. the result is instantaneous- ryland folds, breaking into tiny, wheezy giggles. you can't help but laugh along with him.
he grabs your wrists in a panicked frenzy and now, you're panicking.
you're pretty sure they could've heard you back down on earth.
I was just freezing cold getting into bed and now I’m combusting into flames, I know for a fact—this man would make it his life goal to remind us every single day how much we like it
in which you fall victim to a giant spider and its many, many, many children
aaa hello,,! pls enjoy another drabble type thing feat another scenario i think abt sometimes and have. very normal feelings abt i. promise
~2.6k words, cw: tickling (sfw but with kink in mind + slightly intense), lee!reader, inhuman/monster!ler, multiple lers, teeny tiny lers, stuck in place, spiders, nearly full body tickling (stomach, bellybutton, chest, neck, ears, back of knees, etc)
The first thing you notice when you wake up is the stickiness on your arms and legs. It’s slightly soft, not gooey or greasy, but strong in its grip. You try to wriggle and are met with firm resistance. Panic begins to creep in through the haziness of your still sleepy mind and you take a few quick, deep breaths, trying to keep yourself calm as you survey exactly what sort of trouble you’ve landed in.
You aren’t hurt, which is good. The last thing you could remember from before losing consciousness was falling for what felt like–– well, not that long, actually. Time had stilled for seemingly a moment or two and then there was nothing. You must have passed out before you’d landed in…. what exactly did you land in? You shift your head from side to side as much as you can in order to get a better view of your surroundings.
At the far edges of your vision, you can see the dark grey rock walls of a cavern. You aren’t sure how big it is because you can’t quite see the cave room floor, the little bit of sunlight trickling in from above quickly being swallowed up by shadow. Around you, intricately braided ropes of white stretch from wall to wall, forming a spindly basket of shapes and patterns that glisten like crystal shards.
It’s a web. A gigantic spiderweb.
All the warnings you’d been given about the humongous arachnids local to the area start flooding back to you. ‘Avoid the deeper parts of the forest,’ your neighbor had told you when you’d first been moving into your new cottage. ‘The underbrush is so dense, it makes the entrance to underground caves— spider holes, we call ‘em— almost invisible. If you’re not careful, you’ll fall right in!’
Internally you curse yourself for not heeding their advice. If you had listened more seriously to their rambling, maybe you’d have some idea of how to get out of this situation, but as it stands, you’re stuck. Which is not ideal.
You spend a few minutes attempting to tug yourself free, practically thrashing in your efforts, but the web holds you tight, merely bouncing back and forth with your movement. You go until you’re panting hard before finally relenting and relaxing again. It’s probably best to conserve your energy. You take a few minutes to catch your breath, feeling the web slowly return to its previous stillness beneath you.
And then it wobbles again.
You freeze. The dip you feel can only be caused by something very large and very heavy. Your eyes jump from shadowy crevice to shadowy crevice, searching frantically for whatever had just made its presence so purposefully known, and then your gaze flits upwards and your stomach drops.
Eight eyes, black and glittering, stare down at you from the dark. Despite not being able to see its full form, you can tell the spider is monstrously huge. It keeps itself hidden, tucked away from the sunbeam peaking in through the canopy. You’re frozen in place, both literally and figuratively. There is a long moment where nothing moves but the web, still swaying slightly under the spider’s weight, before something suddenly crawls out from the shadows beneath the giant arachnid. It takes a second for you to register what exactly it is.
Another spider: much, much smaller than the first, so small its presence doesn’t disturb the web at all. It creeps down towards you in graceful, careful strides, its movement slow, almost hesitant. You feel like you should be trying to get away from it, but instead you just watch, stiff as a board, as the little thing stops an inch from your face, its multiple tiny eyes surveying you with what seems like curiosity.
It shifts a bit closer, and you can almost picture it cocking its head to the side like a puppy. One minuscule leg reaches out, brushing against your cheek, so light it almost feels like the tip of a feather. You’re so baffled by the sensation that you don’t even realize the spider has moved until you register it crawling onto your head.
Your face screws up in discomfort and you go even more still, as though maybe if you just didn’t move, the spider would grow bored of you and scurry away. It doesn’t. You clench your fists tight as you feel it move from your hair, to your forehead, to your temple, down your cheek, under your chin…
Oh. That tickles.
Your expression scrunches for a very different reason now. The spider’s little legs slowly making their way across your throat feel like someone is brushing a miniature feather duster across your skin. You try very hard not to react, squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your lips together in a stubborn attempt to supress the wobbly smile spreading across your face. It’ll move away from your neck eventually. You can handle this. It’s not that bad.
Something tiny and soft rubs up against your wrist and your eyes shoot open.
It seems you’d been so focused on that one baby spider’s actions, you’d failed to notice the arrival of many, many more, none of them larger than your fist, some of them smaller than a coin. They surround you almost completely, blinking at you with the same curiosity as their sibling. You and the army of little spiders stare at each other for a long second… and then you jolt when the one by your wrist begins to crawl up your arm, a handful of its brethren following suit.
The sensation of them on your forearm isn’t too horribly ticklish, but you can feel your sensitivity rising as their feathery feet move towards your shoulder. You squish your lips together in a tight line to try and fight off the inevitable as one spider meanders across your collarbone, another lingers in the crease of your elbow, another slips beneath your sleeve, and very quickly all your defenses collapse. Your upper body jerks, making the web twinge yet again, and the remaining spiders shift and scurry around you, drawn in by the sudden motion.
“Ah–– eehee––! Wait!” You squeak a little as more tiny tormentors start to close in. “W–– Wait! Wait!”
Your protests fall on deaf ears, the spiders seemingly only encouraged by the sound of your voice. One wiggles its way under the fabric of your tunic and you can feel it taking slow, exploratory steps across your lower stomach. When it reaches your naval, it stumbles, surprised by the sudden dip in terrain, its fuzzy leg falling into the depths of your bellybutton. This earns another squeak from you.
“Ack––! Get–– get out ohohof there–!”
You wiggle your hips in a fruitless attempt to dislodge the spider, and you can hear it softly clicking in distress as you do. Unfortunately this does little more than bring more of its concerned siblings beneath your shirt to investigate the commotion, their downy feather bodies brushing like teasing fingertips over the sensitive stretch of your tummy.
Crap, crap, crap. The little spiders aren’t stopping. They’re also not attacking you, or trying to eat you, which you suppose is a good thing, though it’s hard to appreciate your luck when you’re busy trying not to dissolve into helpless laughter. Your eyes frantically jump from side to side before landing on where the giant mama spider is still skulking in its shadowy corner. Its multitude of eyes haven’t left your squirming form for a single moment.
What is the purpose of this? Is this what giant arachnids are known for? Are they tenderizing you, preparing your body for consumption in some weird, horribly ticklish way? Or maybe they’re just genuinely curious about your warm squishy flesh and the way it writhes when touched. Your neighbor had spoken like people falling into spider holes was commonplace, but maybe they were exaggerating and this is the first time these creatures have ever seen a human. Gods, you wish you’d taken the time to learn more about the stupid magic forest surrounding your town. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t have—
“Aha–– eeheehee––!” Breathless laughter interrupts your thoughts. “Nn––nnnahahaha!”
One of the baby spiders moves up your side and your giggles jump as it softly crawls over your right ribcage. There are a lot of them on you now. Thankfully only a select few have figured out how to access the soft, sensitive skin beneath your clothes, but the ones that had are quickly proving to be your biggest concern, finding tickle spots even you were unaware of.
A particularly small spider nestles itself into your navel. When it reaches the bottom, it keeps crawling, trying to move deeper and supposedly very confused by the warm little tunnel ending so abruptly. The sensation makes you squeal and thrash. A separate but equally effective spider skitters around your ear, barely a whisper against the cartilage. The waistband of your trousers are— thank the gods— too tight for any of the little pests to wiggle past, but your relief at this quickly morphs into even gigglier distress as one of the ones by your left boot finds it way under your pant leg. You try your hardest to kick your feet in instinctive protest as you feel it crawl from your ankle, to your calf, to the back of your knee, where it seems to settle itself comfortably into that sensitive concavity.
“Ahaahaha! Oh–– Ohoho gohohods–– stop ihihit!”
Your voice pitches up into a squeaky hiccup. There’s so many of them and they’re everywhere, only a few precious stretches of your skin left untouched by the spiders’ ticklish skittering. It’s overwhelming, it’s all-encompassing, it feels like it will never end, and then, out of nowhere, all movement stops. The tiny creatures on your body come to an abrupt halt and everything around you stills.
Almost everything around you stills.
The web is wobbling yet again. It moves in deep, dipping shudders as something very large and very purposeful makes its way down towards your trapped, helpless form. You want to run; you want to tear yourself from the sticky prison encasing you and hightail it all the way back to your little cottage, but your limbs are too tired from squirming to even attempt an escape. You pant, skin prickling under the frozen touch of the baby spiders covering it, and wait for the inevitable with your eyes shut tight.
But the inevitable doesn’t come. A gargantuan shadow is cast behind your eyelids and you tense yourself in preparation for the sting of a bite, yet in place of white hot pain you instead feel a small, careful tug at your tunic. As your mind races to grapple with the lack of fangs sinking into you, the fabric of your blouse is gently but unceremoniously ripped open. Goosebumps erupt as the cool air of the cavern hits your torso and your eyes shoot open.
Those eight glittering eyes stare down at you, each one as large as your head with a color akin to polished obsidian, your own terrified face reflected back at you from within their inky black depths. The spider shifts its giant maw downwards, fangs speckled with saliva, inching closer and closer to your now very exposed and very vulnerable stomach.
I’m gonna die, you think. I’m going to get eaten by a giant spider and I’m gonna die. And I just paid off the mortgage on my stupid cottage.
Except the giant spider does not eat you. The feeling of its jaws pressing into your skin is not followed by white-hot pain; in fact you don’t think it even broke the skin. For a moment you’re completely baffled as to its motivation, the reason behind its apparent mercy, and then everything clicks into place when its mandibles twitch, gently tweaking the sensitive bit of tummy beneath your bellybutton.
“Wh–– wha––ahahAHA––!”
You can’t even properly react to the new stimulation before the various baby spiders dotting your body start to chirp and shift, almost vibrating with contentment, seemingly very happy that their mother is joining in on this new experimentation of theirs. You’re instantly overcome by squealing laughter as your trapped form is riddled once again with soft, quick, horribly ticklish sensations, now with the added torment of the giant spider’s gentle mandibles squeezing and pinching your stomach.
If the little spiders’ fuzzy bodies were akin to feather dusters, their mother’s rounded fangs are like deft, nimble fingers. It’s an absolutely torturous combination. You aren’t quite sure what tickles more: the ghosting of barely there plumage all over your skin or the pointed, concentrated teasing above your waistline, practically digging into your sensitive flesh.
“AhahAHAHA! St–– stohoHOHOP–– EEHEEP––!” Your noises hit their crescendo. The giant spider, silent and stoic in the face of your helpless hysterics, stares down at you as it pokes and prods and pinches endlessly. “I–– I cahahAHAHA–– I cahahan’t–– pleaHEEHEEHEASE––!!”
Every inch of you is thrashing against torturously ticklish touches both light and forceful; it’s all you can feel. Even the stickiness of the web entrapping you has long since faded into the background. In the deepest recesses of your mind you suppose you should probably still be worried about being eaten, but currently all you can think about is the sensation of little eight-legged menaces scurrying over your overly sensitive body and how their mother’s mandibles are so, so horribly effective at tickling that you almost wonder if they were designed specifically for tormenting you in this way.
Your vision blurs; your insides hurt from laughter. You aren’t quite sure where you are anymore. Is this your life now? Are the spiders going to tickle you until you pass out, or explode, or die? Any or all of those options feel equally likely with the way your brain is starting to melt, lost in the overwhelming experience of being utterly and completely overcome with tickles. You think you might not be able to take a single second more…..
And finally, finally, it stops.
It takes you a moment to realize the spiders are retreating. The feeling of them slipping off of you is so similar to the earlier tickling, you don’t notice your torment has been paused until suddenly your skin is a lot more bare than before. Your ears are ringing. All you can hear is your own ragged breath as you take in gulps of cool cavern air. When your eyelids crack open slightly, you just barely register the gigantic blurry shape of the mother spider and its hundreds of children backing away from your exhausted form. God, are you exhausted. You’ve never felt so tired in your life. You can’t fall asleep here, you absolutely should not fall asleep here, but despite your best efforts you can feel yourself slipping into the oh-so tempting arms of unconsciousness.
You wake up, much to your surprise, in the infirmary. As your village’s healer feeds you a foul-tasting concoction, you learn that apparently unsuspecting townsfolk falling into spider holes is a regular occurrence, even more so than your anxious neighbor had implied. It’s so regular, in fact, that there are nightly patrols of the forest and underground caves to check for any unfortunate victims. You want very much to ask if every person who finds themself stuck in a giant spider’s web winds up being tickled to tears, but you can’t quite force the words out. Perhaps you really were just particularly unlucky.
You decide to pointedly ignore the part of yourself–– the incredibly stupid, deeply embarrassing, morbidly curious part of yourself–– that kind of wants to go trekking back into the woods to see if the experience can be replicated. If only for the sake of science.
♡ and we fall asleep to the scent (of long-stemmed roses)
ryland grace x reader, 1k words
a/n: not even halfway through finals and i caved to ryland grace propaganda. enjoy.
"rylahand, i'm sohorry-" your own hysterical giggling cut you off, and he laughs, very pointedly at you.
"i'm so doing this every time you're being a little twerp." his nails are still trailing around your ears and your shoulders shrug up, despite not deterring him at all.
this was equilibrium.
the hem of your burgundy sweater fell in between ryland grace's fingers, where they rubbed numbly across the twisting patterns of the fabric, his prints leaving behind a shade of pink on your cheeks.
he was doing it mindlessly, of course, blue pupils swimming across his work. you observed, almost shamelessly. you knew him well enough to revel in his incredible work ethic, knowing he was too focused to notice.
his biceps twitched beneath his loose white tee with every molecular movement; thickened fingers wrapped around the knob of a microscope while the other brushed ever so slightly against the soft skin of your wrist.
you swallowed.
he withdrew his hand from you, adjusting the microscope further and you exhaled, ever so slightly. dirty blonde hair cascaded across his chiseled face and-
why the fuck is he looking at you like that?
"i can see you staring, you know."
a scoff escaped your mouth.
"i wasn't staring." you don't recognise your voice, high-pitched and defensive.
"uh-huh."
"i wasn't."
"right."
"i think you're losing it," you laugh.
something in your tone makes him spin around, wide eyes now penetrating you through his glasses. you see your timid reflection through the lenses, smaller than you would prefer.
"what did you just say to me?"
"can't hear?" you chortle at your own joke. "can't see? what's next, can't breathe? get it? 'cause we're in space?"
"very funny." sarcasm coats his voice. an unamused huff leaves his nose.
"are you sure you get it? i know it might be a bit confusing for you. maybe i should elaborate a little-"
one second you're hovering over his chair, all smug and teasing. the next, you find yourself backing away towards the wall as ryland towers over you, inching closer and closer.
"w-wait, what are you-"
he doesn't say a word, but his eyes hold a mischievous gleam that made you feel like hunted prey. his face widens into a teasing smile and you feel your cheeks burning.
"y'know, we haven't done this in a while," he states, running a hand through his locks.
your eyes flicks to his lifted bicep, just once, so fast that you don't think he even saw-
he laughs, the sound echoing across the room and you think, how the hell did you find yourself stuck in space with this asshole?
"shut up!" that comes out more a whine than an order.
your hands find themselves on your face, putting a stop to the intensely flustering eye contact. it also conceals your blushing, which somehow seems to have become a daily occurrence with ryland grace.
"aww, come on, don't hide!" he laments, his voice gravelly.
his hands find their usual spot on the sides of your stomach, squeezing and you shrink, uncoordinated, while your hands struggle to cover your face.
even after so many times, you never seem to get used to the unbearable feeling of fingers prodding up and down your torso, and you grab his large hands, already laughing.
"ry-rylahand!" the sound escapes from you like a deflating balloon.
"y-yehes?" he mocks, his fingers finding the divots of your hips and drilling.
you squeal, a string of incoherent syllables running out of your lips. your hands circle his wrists but he doesn't relent, experienced fingers seeking out every ticklish spot on your body.
"rylahand!"
"what's wrong, baby?" the teasing tilt in his voice sends shivers down your spine. you almost missed the pet name in your mirth. baby. maybe if you could process something other than the fingers pressing into the crevices of your ribs, scribbling up and down your sides, you would've screamed into a pillow.
"you're such an asASHHOHOLE!" your voice pitches up an octave when ryland wisps his nails across your ears, his face ducking down to meet your eyes.
"noho-" you've been in this scenario enough times to know what he's about to do. "noho, rylahand. plehehease."
the fluttery, soft feelings of his fingers across your neck left you giggling and confused, but it didn't do anything to stop the sense of impending doom.
"rylahand, i'm sohorry-" your own hysterical giggling cut you off, and he laughs, very pointedly at you.
"i'm so doing this every time you're being a little twerp." his nails are still trailing around your ears and your shoulders shrug up, despite not deterring him at all.
"you're so-" he stares down at you, and through your laughter-stained eyes, you see something more than pure evilness in his eyes.
"you're so pretty," he whispers and the blush once again coating your being is the last thing you feel before ryland grace's lips catches yours in a kiss.
you sigh into his mouth, his hand cradling the back of your head like a lifeline. his lips are gentle, soft. nothing short of passion and love in which they brush against yours haphazardly. his mouth trails kisses down your jaw to the skin of your neck and that's when- oh shit. oh shit.
your eyes widen.
you quickly realise you've made a grave mistake. you make an oath to never, ever let your guard down again but it's too late. you feel a soft hand cradle your head and you close your eyes in defeat, lips already twitching into a uncontrollable smile.
ryland shoves his face into your neck, the wrinkles of his lips and the slight blonde stubble coating his chin brushing against the hypersensitive skin of your neck.
and it tickles, it tickles so bad and you don't think anything has ever tickled so bad in your life until his other hand trails down your ribs and his thumb wrenches itself into the flesh.
whiny pleas and desperate laughter tumble out of you and you grip his hair, his hands, curling into a ball, anything, anything to get this son of a bitch to stop, but you're not sure if you really want him to. it felt nice, for once. to be touched by him. not by accident. with intention, despite how malicious it might be.
ryland eventually slows, his face nearing your vision before he places a gentle kiss on your forehead. you smile, albeit shyly, before meeting his eyes with a smirk.
"y'know, if you wanted to kiss me that badly, you could've just asked."
so could i request a ler suna lee reader fic? gn ofc^^
EE TYSM I LITERALLY LOVE WHEN YOU WRITE FOR HIM ITS SO GOOD
SUNA!!! :D Oh my god the boy! Mr. Bendy straw himself! YES! What are the words to describe how much I love this guy? Friend, I've gotcha covered!
This was supposed to be in combination of another fic request with the Miya twins; but I'm pretty sure Tumblr ate that one 😅 So eh; whomever asked for that; here you are! :D I hope y'all like it!
“Ready…?” Atsumu waved a hand between the three of you, shaking with barely restrained mirth. You were no better, cheeks hurting from how hard you were smiling. Only Osamu seemed sane- cool as a cucumber.
“Wait-” Suna stopped you, adjusting his phone. “Okay.”
“...Go!” Atsumu cried, the three of you shaking your fists. After three thumps, the results were in.
“YES!” You cried, jumping up and down with glee as the twins groaned- your scissors beating both their paper. “Come here!”
“Wait- wait we have to go agahahain!” Atsumu all but squealed when you charged him, grabbing his sides and squeezing rapidly. Beside you, Osamu joined in. “Nohohohohoho whhihihy mehehehe?”
“Winner gets to pick the target!” You cried back, stopping after a few seconds. The three of you returned to the circle, Atsumu rubbing his sides with a laugh. “Ready?”
“Steady…” Osamu added, dragging it out as Atsumu giggled. “Go!”
Another three thumps.
“DAMN!” Atsumu cried as his brother whooped, his cries of frustration turning into laughter when he was tickled once more. “Thihihis isn’t fahhahir! Y’lahahall have an ahahahliance!”
“Please- like we’d ever team up.” Osamu rolled his eyes, shooting you a quick wink that made you grin. Nearby, Suna gestured to Aran, handing him his phone.
“I want in.” He decided, joining your game.
“Yay! Suna’s gonna play! Suna’s gonna play!” You cheered, clapping. Atsumu whooped, and Osamu groaned.
“That’s right! You’ve got your alliance, I’ve got mine!” Atsumu ran over, throwing an arm around the blocker’s shoulders. “Isn’t that right, Suna?”
“I’m not aligning with anyone.” He prodded the blonde, making him spasm and giggle. “I’m just here to make things interesting for the video.”
“Sure sure. Y’all ready?” Osamu asked, putting his fist in. Four fists entered- only one could win. Ready…GO!”
Three thumps. Then..
“AHH!” You squealed when Suna’s fingers dug into your ribs from behind, the loss barely registering as you fell back into him. “Nohohohoho, dohohon’t!”
“Winner picks the target.” He growled playfully, going a second longer before releasing you. “Get ready, you’re the only one I’m aiming for.”
You blushed, the twins cooing at you both from their spots. Aran coughed over his laugh.
“Oh it is ON!” You declared back, more determined than ever to win. You were gonna wipe that smug look off his face.
The game went on, and as he promised; every win Suna gained he used on you. It was almost unfair, given how good of a tickler he was.
“Dahahhang it!” You cried when he won again, already laughing before he could touch you. “Yohohohu’re chehhahahting!”
“No way- I’m just good at this game.” Suna snickered, playfully clawing at your belly as you doubled over with a squeal. “Say- next round’s winner should get a full minute to tickle someone.”
“Wahhat?” You cried. The twins gasped in glee.
“Yeah! Yeah! I’m gonna tickle ‘Samu so bad he’ll pee!” Atsumu cried in triumph, earning a kick from his brother.
“Shut up! I’m gonna win! You’ll be seeing stars when I’m done with you!” Osamu barked back, glaring. Seconds later the twins were having their own battle; their pushes and shoves quickly dissolved into a tickle war of their own. You leaned back into Suna as you watched them roll around in laughter.
“I think they forgot about the game.” You smiled as Aran carried on filming them, making commentary here and there.
“Good. They’re annoying.” You tsked as you looked back at him, but his smile snatched away the scolding on your lips. “Besides, I much rather play with you and you alone.”
“Is that so?” You turned in his arms, wrapping them around his waist as you stepped closer. “Well, in that case…game on.”
Suna blinked, confused. Then…
“AH!” He yelped out when you scratched into his back, clawing at the back of his ribs rapidly. Once he was down on his knees you ran for the hills- laughing the entire time. “(Y/N)!”
“Snooze you loose, Tarou~” You called back with a wink, flying out the gym doors with a howl of mirth as he gave chase.
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!
It’s hot, in all honesty, especially when his boyfriend Kuroo is holding his waist gently and guiding him across the zebra-crossing, or when Kuroo pulls his waist closer to him while making out passionately.
The only downside of Kuroo holding his waist is that it tickles so bad.
And it’s embarrassing to let Kuroo know he’s still very ticklish after all these years, so Kenma tried to stifle his reactions whenever Kuroo touched his waist, with only occasional slip ups.
Like now.
Two hands grabbed Kenma's waist from behind, causing him to tense up and drop the game console he was playing.
He turned from his comfortable spot on the bed to see Kuroo spooning him.
Kuroo only grinned, pulling him closer.
“I missed you so much,kitten~” Kuroo snuggled closer to Kenma so Kenma’s head was now resting directly on his chest.
“We were together the whole day! You only want to take a shower for like, maybe, 20 minutes?”
“Twenty minutes is wayyy too long, I just missed you so much, okay?” Kuroo whined, squeezing Kenma so tightly he can’t breathe, and Kenma smiled to himself.
To others, Kuroo may be a cool, hot captain, no doubt he is, but only he ,Kuroo’s boyfriend, gets the privilege to see the clingy, cheesy side of him.
Kuroo is also just a big cat by heart.
“You’re a sap.” Kenma playfully said, turning over so his back is nestled against Kuroo’s chest,partly to gain the ability to breathe again, and partly to hide the blush that blossomed across his cheeks.
“Can’t help when my boyfriend is so cute.” Kuroo smiled back, his hands touching Kenma everywhere—ruffling his hair, kissing his neck etc.
And Kenma, as much as he doesn’t Iike physical touch that much, as long as it was Kuroo who was doing it, he guessed he didn’t mind.
Except he did mind when Kuroo’s hands travelled from his waist to his stomach and rubbed all over it.
Shit that tickled.
Kenma accidentally let out a small gasp, his stomach tensing further.
It tickled, it tickled, it tickled… the electric feeling sparking through his body was unbearable.
Kenma finally freed his hand from Kuroo’s grasp to grab at the intruding hand.
“Kuroo!” He whined at his boyfriend, who tilted his head, confused. Kuroo looks so cute sometimes.
“Dork.” Kenma gave Kuroo a playful half-hearted insult.
“Grumpy cat.” Kuroo retorted.
“Cuddle bug.”
“Pudding head.”
“Shittyhead.”
Kuroo gasped dramatically, “My hair is not shitty! Many people would die to get a haircut like mine, you included!”
Kenma snorted.“Pleaseee, I beg to differ, roosterhead.”
For a moment, there was only silence. Then Kenma started to worry.
Had he taken this banter too far? Did he accidentally offended Kuroo?
Just as he was about to turn over and check on Kuroo, a low, sinister voice spoke.
“Oh, you’re going to be punished for that, kitten.”
And with that, Kuroo’s hand broke free from Kenma’s grip, kneading into the most ticklish spot on Kenma’s sides with absolute precision.
“W-wait!” Kenma squealed, before dissolving into giggles.
Kenma couldn’t focus on anything except for the hand that’s harassing his sides, digging and tickling about.
And he couldn’t squirm or break free too! Trapped in a tickle hug, he can’t do much but to lean forward and attempt to curl up, wiggling futilely in Kuroo’s iron grip.
He’s sure he looks like a towel hanging from an iron rack.
“K-Kuroo! W-wait!!!” Kenma panicked, and he could imagine the smirk plastered on his lover’s face when Kuroo retorted.
“Wait? Wait for what?”
Kenma opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to come up with a valid answer.
“I think that you’re waiting for this,kitten.” Kuroo teased, and with that the hand that was torturing his sides turned into a claw that dug into the spot below Kenma’s belly button.
And Kenma’s brain short-circuited.
“Eeeeeeeep!!!” Kenma squeaked, before loud laughter spilled uncontrollably from his mouth, arching his back and thrashing wildly.
“You squirm funny, Kenma. Whenever I dig into your sides, you curl forward, and when I claw at your tummy, you arch your back. Just watch.”
And with that, Kuroo alternated between scribbling at his sides for one second, before clawing at his stomach in another, and back to his sides…
Sides, tummy, sides, then tummy… Kenma was going crazy, cackling and spasming like a madman with every ticklish touch, and he was positive he was blushing like crazy too.
Clawing a few more seconds at Kenma’s middle and savouring his boyfriend’s cute laughter, Kuroo eventually let up, letting Kenma breathe.
“How do you know I’m ticklish?” Kenma asked, though visibly exhausted and confused, his eyes were shining.
“You think I wouldn’t notice the tensing of your stomach and the little gasp you let out everytime I touch your waist or put my hand on your stomach?”
Kenma didn’t say anything, yet his face was burning off.
“Don't worry Kenma, it’s cute.” Kuroo commented.
Not helping, Kenma thought, touching his cheek in an attempt to cool himself off.
Kuroo thought Kenma would be wary and suspicious of another tickle attack after that unexpected tickle encounter and keep a distance from him, yet Kuroo was positively surprised Kenma placed his hands on his waist.
“You made me tired. The least you can do is help me sleep.” Kenma said.
Snuggling in Kuroo’s chest while Kuroo rubbed at Kenma’s waist and back, Kenma soon fell asleep peacefully, a small smile placed on his lips even when he was in a peaceful slumber.
Words can’t express how much Kuroo loves Kenma, so he resorted to kissing his boyfriend’s forehead goodnight before sleeping by his side, knowing that his adorable, observant, ( and ticklish!) best friend and lover will be next to him when he wakes up.
And maybe love has always been that simple too.
ꕤꕤꕤ
Writer’s notes: Yup I’m going back to Kuroken because they’re so cute I can’t—
Also really happy to say I got inspiration for this fic (tickle hugs) based on real life experiences (girlie got lucky)
Your fics are adorable! Would you be willing to write lee matsun and ler kuroo with the spot being the neck? ❤️
Of course! GET HIM GOOD KUROO-SAN!
"Ok-kahahahay! Thahahat's enough! Tehehetsu!"
"Oh? I thought you said you weren't ticklish?"
Kuroo quickly whispered against Matsukawa's neck before starting his nibble attack again. Mattsun was laughing brightly, cheeks flushed pink and sleppy eyes tightly shut with happy tears clinging to his lashes.
To be honest, this whole predicament was his own fault. He knew exactly how to rile Kuroo up and provoke him to do things, so he only needed a few teasing about how so overly ticklish Kuroo was compared to Matsukawa that was, in fact, not ticklish at all.
In a blink of an eye, Kuroo was pouncing on him, fingers wiggling here and there, trying to draw out a reaction from Matsukawa, but as he kept going, Mattsun could tell he was growing more and more frustrated. Kuroo gave up rather quickly and, feeling a little flustered, hid his face against Matsukawa's neck, something that he'd done plenty of times before, but as Mattsun teased him tenderly again, Kuroo growled and playfully nibbled at his neck, and to both of their surprise, Matsukawa let out a charmingly bubbly giggle that made them both stop breathing for a moment.
And so, Kuroo was now abusing what could be Matsukawa's only ticklish spot on his whole body.
"I'm nohahahat fohohood!" Mattsun squeaked, throwing his head back with a cackle when Kuroo nibbled behind his ear.
"Then why so tasty?" Kuroo teased and started to hum soft noming sounds, that had Mattsun laughing even harder as his cheeks turned redder.
Matsukawa, perhaps not used to the tickling sensations, lost all coordination in his hands, trying to push Kuroo away by the shoulders, but also trying to protect his neck and also trying to hide the huge smile on his face.
"Plehehease!" Mattsun shrieked, laughing nearly in hysterics as Kuroo used his nose to tickle the side of his neck. "Breheheak! Ahahahaha, Tetsuhu I cahahan't!"
"Admit where else you're ticklish and I'll stop," Kuroo said, lifting his face briefly to look at Mattsun and give him a little break. "Otherwise you'll just have to laugh until I'm satisfied," he concluded with a big smirk.
Oh his face was so flushed and Mattsun could tell he was having a blast tickling him to pieces. And that smile? Oh goodness, how can he resist such charming little kitten?
Matsukawa breathed heavily, letting our residual giggles as he stared up at Kuroo with a tender smile.
"Here," he said, poking the back of Kuroo's ribs, making him flinch and squeal softly, "but only if you do it like this."
He softly wiggled his fingers against the back of Kuroo's ribs and he giggled, twisting away from the touch.
"And here," Mattsun continued, sliding a single finger down Kuroo's spine, making him arch his back and shriek. "Like this, and this, and this," he explained, scribbling his fingers all around Kuroo's back and so close to his sides, then tracing the edges of his shoulder blades and wiggling his fingers on his lower back.
Kuroo was giggling brightly by now, but he quickly pinned Mattsun's hands up above his head, "Fihihine! I gehet it!" He said breathlessly, narrowing his eyes when he found Matsukawa smirking up at him. "You really are enjoying yourself, huh?"
Matsukawa chuckled, "It's a great pleasure to see my kitten giggling and squirming like that."
Kuroo's cheeks blushed, but he held both of Matsukawa's wrists in one of his hands and lifted his arms higher, making Mattsun arch his back and smile nervously.
"Let's see how much you enjoy this, then."
"I'm sure I'll en-jo-johohoy it juhuhust as muhuhuch- ahahaha!"
Kuroo was sure he was not lying at all and his heart flutter with excitement.
[Send me a lee, a ler and a tickle spot and I'll write you a 3 sentence (or longer) drabble!]
hi! could you please do lee chonhyun, ler xingqiu and back for the three sentences starters?
This request is so so cuuuute ♥ This is my first time writing for these cuties, I hope I make them justice
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"Chongyun!" Xingqiu gasped and before Chongyun could even react, he found himself face first against the blanket on the green grass with Xingqiu straddling him. "Don't move!" Xingqiu ordered and Chongyun froze immediately, his body rigid and his breath hitched in his throat.
"What's happening, Xing- ah!" A startled squeal left his mouth when he felt Xingqiu's long fingers sneaking under his jacket. "Xingqiu?! What are you doing?!" The young master hushed him and Chongyun bit his tongue, feeling his cheeks heating up.
"I saw a weird creature sneak under your clothes, Chongyun, so stay still so I can get it," Xingqiu said with a server tone and Chongyun shivered, holding his breath as he felt Xingqiu's fingers touching his back, lightly gliding his fingertips up his spine, pinching at the edge of his shoulders blades, scratching at the back of his rib, poking at his lower back - Xingqiu was just trying to get that creature out, so why did it feel so ticklish-
Oh goodness.
"Liahahahar!" He was tickling him! There wasn't such thing as a 'weird creature'! This was just Xingqiu teasing him again and again, Chongyun had fallen in his little trap! "Gehehet offAHAHA!" Now that Chongyun had noticed it was a trick, Xingqiu was deliberately tickling his back with quick scratches and gentle pokes that has Chongyun squirming and giggling brightly, his feet kicking against the blanket where they were just having a picnic.
"So rude, Chongyun! I'm just trying to help, now stay still because the creature is at your lower back now!" As Chongyun giggled hysterically, he could only pray internally for this fake creature to get out of his clothes!
[Send a ler, a lee and a tickle spot and I'll write a 3 sentence fic!]
