This was really fun to draw can’t you tell? >\\\\\< ok bye I just flustered myself with my own art and AU djaksjxdk (one more day and then I’m DONE 😮💨)
huh? oh hey cutie whats up how ya been? this is a tickle fic for Batman, specifically based after the events of Batman: The Long Halloween, which is an amazing film! i hope you enjoy!! and no its not a year late, idk what youre talking about its 2024 bestie <3333
this is a fic requested by @ghostlee-activities!! thank you so much for the request <3333
this is for TKTober using the prompt list by @august-anon
The Long Laugh
Words: 3,371
Pairing: Lers!Alfred and Selina with Lee!Bruce Wayne!
Warnings: couldn't help but put some romantic tension between Cat and Bat
Prompt: Costume
The grandfather clock in Wayne Manor struck one in the morning, its chime muffled by oak doors and stone walls. Bruce hardly noticed. He sat hunched at his desk, the light of a single lamp catching the edges of open files, scattered photographs, and his own tired features. His tie hung loose around his neck, his shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and the bags under his eyes were deep enough to betray how many nights he'd repeated this same ritual.
Holiday was finished. The killings had stopped. But the echoes still lingered: the unresolved questions, the mistakes he'd made, the lives that had been lost. He told himself it wasn't an obsession, just due diligence. But the lines between those two things blurred hours ago.
The steady scratch of a pen across paper was broken when his butler entered, soundless as ever until the polite ahem of his presence announced him. He carried a silver tray with a cup of steaming tea, setting it down at Bruce's elbow without invitation.
"Master Bruce," Alfred began, voice clipped but not unkind, "it has not escaped my notice that the clock has turned past one. Again."
Bruce didn't look up. "One more lead. Then I'll stop."
"Yes, I recall you saying that four leads ago." Alfred's hands folded behind his back, posture ramrod straight. He tilted his head, observing the mess of notes, the exhaustion carved into Bruce's features. "And unless my eyes deceive me, even the world's most persistent crime-fighter is not immune to gravity. You appear on the verge of collapsing face-first into your paperwork."
Bruce gave a dry exhale, something halfway between a scoff and a chuckle. "I've been worse."
"Indeed. Which is rather the problem, isn't it?" Alfred lingered a moment, then let his gaze wander deliberately across the room. "You know, I happened across the trick-or-treaters in the city this evening. Gotham's children seem particularly enamored with bats this year. Costumes everywhere; tiny fangs, little paper wings, the works. Quite endearing."
Bruce's pen stilled for the first time. He glanced up, one brow raised. "Is that so?"
"Mm. It reminded me," Alfred continued smoothly, "of another child who once fashioned wings out of bedsheets, demanded to stay up until impossible hours, and insisted he was far too old for bedtimes."
Bruce sighed through his nose, setting the pen down at last. "You never let me win that argument."
"Correct." Alfred's expression softened, the faintest ghost of amusement tugging at his mouth. "And yet, here we are again. Same stubborn boy, only now dressed in Kevlar."
The silence stretched, filled only with the distant rumble of Gotham's storm clouds rolling in. Bruce rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, but when Alfred gestured toward the untouched teacup, he didn't move.
"Alfred," he said firmly, though his voice lacked real force, "I can't afford to stop. Not yet."
Alfred exhaled, long-suffering but patient. "Very well, sir. I shall attempt persuasion. Though I warn you, I have other means if you remain obstinate."
Bruce didn't answer. He'd already turned back toward his notes.
Alfred remained standing behind Bruce's chair, the tea cooling on the desk beside him. His patience was legendary, but it was not infinite.
"Very well," Alfred said at last. "We'll start with reason, then? Your body has endured no less than three consecutive nights of late patrols followed by obsessive casework. You've eaten... once in the past twenty-four hours, and it was cold soup at that. If you don't sleep, Master Bruce, you will cease to be the world's greatest crime-fighter and become the world's most exhausted invalid."
Bruce didn't look up from the evidence photo he was studying. "I'll manage."
"Mm, I see." Alfred's tone didn't shift, though the edge of sarcasm sharpened beneath it. "Perhaps I should begin drafting a new epitaph: 'Here lies Bruce Wayne, savior of Gotham, slain not by villain but by stubbornness.' Quite inspiring, no?"
A flicker of amusement ghosted across Bruce's lips, but he masked it quickly, burying himself in another file. "Dramatic, even for you."
Alfred leaned forward slightly, his shadow stretching across the desk. "If logic won't sway you, perhaps a reminder of your public persona. Wayne Enterprises cannot be captained by a man with raccoon eyes and a permanent slump. Even billionaires must at least pretend to sleep."
That earned no response either, only the sound of pages flipping.
Alfred exhaled quietly through his nose, as though bracing himself. "I did warn you, sir. There remains one final measure. An option I vowed I would never again resort to, but desperate times call for desperate means."
That caught Bruce's attention. His head lifted slightly, brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"Ah. You don't remember." Alfred moved with deliberate calm, circling to Bruce's side. "When you were a boy, Master Bruce, and your nights stretched too long into fantasy crusades, there was one tactic that never failed to secure compliance."
Bruce blinked, tired and irritable. "Alfred, I don't-"
He cut off abruptly as Alfred's hands descended, not roughly but with precision, pressing gently into the space between Bruce's ribs and sides. The contact was startling enough that Bruce jerked upright, eyes going wide.
"Alfred," he warned, voice sharp.
"Yes, sir?" Alfred replied evenly, as though they were discussing household chores. His fingers shifted, light and deliberate.
Bruce stiffened. His breath caught. He bit the inside of his cheek, determined not to give an inch. But the sensation wriggled through him, sparking through nerves dulled by exhaustion. He clamped his jaw shut, the corners of his mouth twitching despite his iron discipline.
"S-stohop-" he ground out, his voice low and as commanding as he could muster.
"Ah," Alfred said mildly, continuing the motion with clinical precision. "So you do recall this particular deterrent."
Bruce twisted in his chair, trying to shrug Alfred off without outright flailing. He'd faced killers, monsters, maniacs of all stripes, and yet somehow, this indignity unraveled him faster than any of them. His lips pressed tighter, but the chuckle that burst through betrayed him.
"A-Ahahalfred-!" His warning dissolved into a sharp bark of laughter, cut off as quickly as he fought to rein it in. "Ihi'm- hahaaha! S-seheherious!"
"Yes, of course you are, sir." Alfred's tone didn't budge. His fingers traced across Bruce's ribs, methodical as a surgeon. "You're always serious. That's half the problem."
Bruce squirmed, gripping the armrests of his chair as though he could anchor himself in stoicism. His shoulders hunched, his teeth gritted, but the laughter was building, bubbling past his control. Finally, it spilled out in a helpless wave.
"Al-AhAhahahhahalfrehehehed! S-Stohohohop iihiHihit!" His laughter rang loud, echoing in the cavernous study.
"Regrettably, I cannot comply until you agree to retire for the night," Alfred replied calmly, like someone negotiating a treaty. "Standard procedure."
Bruce twisted again, nearly tipping the chair in his struggle. He caught Alfred's wrist, but even his considerable strength couldn't quite focus through the tremors of laughter shaking his chest.
"Yes, sir, quite ridiculous. Yet remarkably effective." Alfred's expression barely shifted, save for a faint upward curve at the corner of his mouth. "A shame, really. If Gotham's rogues ever discovered your Achilles' heel was so... domestic, my workload would quadruple."
Bruce's laugh cracked into a wheeze as Alfred found a particularly sensitive spot along his side. He writhed, head dropping forward, dark hair falling into his face as his composure shattered completely.
"AhahaHAHall RihiHiHight! Hahahahhaha! Ahahahall rihihihight!" He gasped between spurts of laughter, chest heaving. "Ihihihi'll- Ihihihi'll gohohohOHo!"
Alfred slowed, then withdrew his hands with the same precise calm he'd begun with. He adjusted his cuffs as though nothing had happened.
"Excellent. Always a pleasure doing business with you, Master Bruce."
Bruce slumped in his chair, breathing hard, face flushed with equal parts exertion and humiliation. He shot Alfred a glare that carried little actual venom.
"You will never speak of this," Bruce muttered.
"My lips are sealed, sir," Alfred said smoothly, though the glint in his eye betrayed his satisfaction. "Now then, up with you. Bed awaits."
Bruce grumbled but rose, straightening his shirt. Alfred collected the untouched tea, balancing the tray effortlessly as he escorted Bruce toward the grand staircase.
As they climbed, Alfred allowed himself one last remark, light as air. "Some things, it seems, never change."
Bruce's only reply was a tired, resigned chuckle.
High above the study, where the shadowed beams met the vaulted ceiling, another pair of eyes had been watching. Selina Kyle lounged on the narrow lip of the window frame, her silhouette cloaked by the storm-dark night. She had slipped into Wayne Manor with the ease of long practice, steps silent, presence invisible, until she had stumbled upon something far more entertaining than she'd expected.
She had come for him, of course. She always did. A part of her enjoyed prowling the halls of his home when he didn't know, leaving faint traces of perfume or a claw mark in the wood just to remind him she could. But tonight? Tonight, she had been gifted with something better.
Her lips curled upward as she watched the scene unfold below: the Dark Knight of Gotham, the immovable Batman, reduced to writhing laughter under the unyielding hands of his butler. She had seen him corner crime bosses, intimidate monsters, walk through fire with grim determination, and now, she'd seen him beg for mercy at the simple touch of Alfred goddamn Pennyworth.
Selina pressed a hand over her mouth to stifle her own laugh, shoulders shaking silently. The sound of Bruce's laughter carried up to her perch, sharp and unguarded, and it was all she could do not to purr aloud at the sheer absurdity of it. "So that's your weakness, Bats," she thought gleefully. "Not kryptonite. Not some chemical cocktail. Tickling."
The possibilities unfurled in her mind like a cat stretching luxuriously in a sunbeam. She could already imagine Bruce's face if she so much as brushed her fingers along his ribs. The mighty Batman, undone by something so utterly human~.
When Alfred finally led Bruce upstairs, Selina lingered only a moment longer, savoring the emptiness of the study. Then, with the grace of the thief she was, she slipped down from her perch and padded noiselessly toward the open window.
The storm outside had grown heavy, rain hissing against the stone walls, but she paid it no mind. She leapt out into the night with the ease of a cat, landing lightly on the slick ground below. A grin stretched across her face, the thrill of discovery buzzing through her veins.
"Oh, Bruce," she murmured to herself as she vanished back into the dark. "You have no idea what you've just handed me."
And with that, she melted into the storm, already plotting how best to use her newfound knowledge.
The storm had been raging for days, turning Gotham into a smear of black streets and silver rain. By the time Batman pulled the Batmobile into the manor's underground hangar, his cape clung heavy with water, his cowl dripping trails onto the stone floor. He stripped the gloves off with practiced precision, jaw tight, eyes shadowed. The night had been long, too long, and though he had put another gang back in their place, he carried exhaustion around his shoulders like a second cape.
Thunder rolled as he made his way upstairs. He was already bracing himself for Alfred's inevitable lecture when he reached his bedroom door and pushed it open. Instead of Alfred, however, a different figure greeted him.
Selina Kyle was stretched across his bed as though she'd always lived there, wrapped loosely in one of his shirts, the storm casting silver light across her legs. She looked entirely at home, one hand idly tracing circles on the comforter, the other propping up her head. Her smile was equal parts warmth and mischief.
"Well," she purred. "Look what the storm dragged in~. You're soaked, darling."
Bruce sighed, tugging his cape free and letting it fall over a chair. "Selina."
"You sound surprised." She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. "Don't tell me you weren't expecting me. I practically live here more than you do."
He didn't bother arguing. His chestplate came next, the clasps clicking free with familiar weight. "It's late. You should be home."
"This is home." She sat up, curling her legs beneath her. "At least, when you're not brooding all night on rooftops. Honestly, Bruce, you look like you've been through a washing machine. You're gonna burn yourself out one of these nights."
"I'll manage."
"Where've I heard that before..." Selina mumbled to herself under her breath.
Bruce unbuckled his utility belt and set it down carefully, then reached for the cowl. His hair was damp and unruly beneath it, his face drawn with fatigue.
Selina's smile softened for a heartbeat. She reached out, catching his wrist before he could turn away. "You don't have to manage everything alone, you know."
His eyes flicked to hers. The weight of their unspoken history hung in the air for a moment, trust and betrayal, affection and defiance all tangled together. Finally, he sat on the edge of the bed, boots heavy on the carpet.
The silence lingered, filled only by the storm pounding at the windows. Then Selina leaned in, gently massaging Bruce's tired shoulders, humming a little at the feeling of him relaxing under her hands. Her grin curled slyly once more. "So," she said lightly, almost offhand, "are you ticklish?"
Bruce froze, halfway through untying one boot. He turned his head toward her, expression flat, voice cool. "No."
Selina's smirk widened. "That was quick."
"Because it's true." He tugged the boot free, focusing on the task with soldier-like intensity. "I'm not ticklish."
"Mhm~." Selina shifted closer, her voice velvet-soft. "You said that with such confidence, anyone else might believe you. I might have even believed you." She let her eyes narrow, her tone a purr. "But me? I know you're bluffing~."
Bruce straightened, leveling her with the same stoic glare he used on mob bosses and mad clowns. "Selina."
"Bruce." She leaned in until her lips nearly brushed his ear, his breath warm against his skin. "If you're really not ticklish, you won't mind if I test it~."
For a heartbeat, the Bat and the Cat stared at one another, the storm hammering at the glass behind them. His jaw tightened, every line of his body radiating control. But Selina saw the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth, the tiniest crack in the mask he wore even here.
Her smirk turned feral. She was going to enjoy this.
Bruce had only a second to brace himself. One moment, Selina was smirking beside him, the next, she launched forward with the fluidity of a predator, all claws and grace.
"Selina-!"
Her laugh was rich, triumphant, as she tackled him back onto the mattress. He rolled with the motion, instinct taking over, and for a breathless beat, they scuffled. Bruce caught her around the waist and flipped her beneath him, Selina twisting like a ribbon, legs hooking around him before he could fully pin her. He grunted, muscles straining, but her flexibility outpaced his brute strength. In seconds, she had wound herself around him like ivy, snug and smug, leaving him too tangled to shove her off.
"You... fight dirty," he muttered, breath rough.
"It's my best quality," she purred. Then her hands darted to his ribs.
The effect was instant. Bruce's body jerked, his breath catching sharply in his throat as Selina's fingers pressed and danced along his sides. He clamped his jaw, muscles locking with soldier's discipline, but the cracks showed almost immediately. His shoulders hunched, his chest shuddered.
"Ohhh, there it is~!" Selina cooed, her grin wicked. "I knew my eyes weren't deceiving me!"
"Selihina- d-dohohon't-!" His voice wavered dangerously.
"Don't what? Don't find out your little secret~?" She teased, pressing harder, scrabbling playfully along his ribs until he squirmed in earnest. "How could you hide this from me? I'm honestly shocked I haven't discovered it sooner, Bats~!"
The first laugh broke out of him like a crack in armor, low and unwilling. He bit it back immediately, but Selina only laughed.
"Oh, this is golden~!" Her hands slid lower, spidering over his stomach. Bruce twisted, muscles rippling under her touch, but she held fast, every movement precise and relentless. His composure unraveled further, breath hitching into ragged bursts, laughter spilling out despite his every effort.
"Selihihina! Stohohohp ihiht-!"
"Hmm, no~," she said sweetly, brushing her nails along his sides. "This is far too much fun~!"
She shifted her weight, straddling his hips now, free to torment without worry of him dislodging her. Bruce writhed beneath her, trying to buck her off, but every twist of his body only gave her more opportunities. She dragged her fingers up his ribs again, delighting in the way he jolted, then tested his lower sides. His laughter cracked higher, more frantic, when she brushed a sensitive spot near his hip.
"Ohhh, interesting~!" She leaned close, lips grazing his ear as her fingers pressed there again. "So that's another good one~. You're just full of surprises, aren't you~?"
She grinned, ignoring his plea, her hair falling into his face as she wormed her hands higher, sliding along his ribs, then down again to his stomach. Every pass made him jolt, every poke or squeeze drew another helpless burst of laughter. She was merciless; playful, yes, but without Alfred's restraint.
"You know," she teased over the sound of his laughter, "all that brooding, all those shadows, and underneath, you're just a man with the cutest weakness I've ever seen. Gotham's Dark Knight, helpless to a little tickle-tickle-tickling~!"
Bruce twisted again, his chest heaving, his laugh rough and helpless now. "SeehEHehLiHihNa, IhIhIhI sWhehehEHAR!!"
"You swear you'll... what? Arrest me~?" She gave his side another squeeze, making him yelp. "Good luck writing up that report, darling~! You'll have to tell Gordon about how you let yourself get captured, Giggles~!"
Despite his protests and struggles, there was no malice in the exchange. Selina's eyes sparkled with genuine delight, her laughter mingling with his, and Bruce's defenses crumbled until he was laughing openly, fully, the weight of Gotham gone from his shoulders in that moment.
And for her, that was the real victory. Not that she could tease him endlessly with this discovery (which she will), but that she had pulled the Bat out from behind the cowl and found Bruce, the man, alive, vulnerable, human, and laughing beneath her claws.
She slowed finally, letting her fingers linger lightly against his sides, tracing lazy circles. "There now~," she purred, smirking down at him. "Doesn't that feel better than brooding~?"
Bruce lay breathless, glaring up at her through his disheveled hair, his cheeks flushed and chest still shaking with the aftershocks of laughter. "Y-youhuhu're insuhuhufferable."
"Mm~. And you love it." She bent down and kissed his cheek, victorious.
The bedroom door creaked open, and in stepped Alfred, balanced as ever with a silver tray and steaming coffee. His gaze flicked over the tangle of limbs on the bed without so much as an arched brow.
"Well," he said evenly, "how nice to see Master Bruce in such... spirited company. Must have been a funny story you recounted, yes?"
"Sure." Selina looked up with a smile. "Evening, Alfred."
"Ms. Kyle," he returned smoothly, setting the tray down. Then, with a glint of deliberate innocence: "If memory serves, sir's back was always his greatest weakness."
Bruce's eyes widened in horror as Alfred exited, perfectly composed.
Selina's grin sharpened, wicked delight flashing across her face. "His back, hm~?" she echoed, voice dripping with glee. "Thanks, Alfred~!"
"S-Selina, don't-" Bruce warned, already twisting, but too late. She shifted her weight, sliding nimble fingers across the muscles of his back. The reaction was instant as Bruce's deep, uncontrollable laughter burst free, muffled by the storm rattling the manor's windows.
"Gotcha~," Selina purred, digging in mercilessly as Bruce writhed beneath her, caught between helplessness and amusement.
His protests drowned under the sound of laughter echoing through the halls, proof that, for tonight, the Cat had conquered the Bat.
Summary: When Ryuk discovers that Light is ticklish, he can’t resist teasing him, cackling with delight as the usually composed Light Yagami struggles to maintain his dignity.
Lee: Light Yagami
Ler: Ryuk
A/N: I thought this gif was hilarious cause Ryuk looks like he's about to sneak attack Light :3
Light Yagami sat at his desk, the Death Note open before him. He tapped the pen against the paper, deep in thought, strategizing his next moves. The air in his room was still, except the looming presence of Ryuk, who hovered lazily behind him.
“You’re always so serious,” Ryuk muttered, sounding almost bored. “Humans are strange. Even when they’re trying to take over the world, they’re so uptight.”
Light didn’t even glance up. “I’m not uptight. I’m focused. There’s a difference.”
Ryuk grinned, sharp teeth gleaming. “Focused, huh? You never relax, do you? I wonder...” He drifted closer, an idea forming in his mischievous mind. “Hey, Light… are humans ticklish?”
Light froze for a second, eyebrows twitching in annoyance. “What kind of stupid question is that?”
“Ohhh.” Ryuk’s grin widened at the subtle shift in Light’s expression. “You are ticklish, aren’t you? I wonder what happens if I...”
Before Light could stop him, Ryuk reached down with his long, bony fingers and gave Light’s ribs an experimental wiggle.
“R-Ryuk!” Light yelped, twisting away from the unexpected sensation. He batted at the Shinigami’s hands, trying to maintain his composure. But Ryuk wasn’t done.
“This is hilarious!” Ryuk cackled loud, eerie, and unhinged. His laughter echoed through the room as he danced his fingers across Light’s ribs and sides, delighting in how his human companion squirmed. “So even you can’t resist a little tickling, huh, Light?”
Light grit his teeth, determined not to give in. “S-stop it, Ryuk! This isn’t fuhunny!”
“Are you kidding? This is hilarious!” Ryuk’s cackle grew even louder as Light thrashed in his chair, trying desperately to fend off the Shinigami’s relentless poking. "Humans are weird! Who knew the mighty Kira could be undone by a few wiggly fingers?”
Light bit his lip, stifling a laugh that threatened to escape. But Ryuk’s clawed hands were merciless, and before long, a startled laugh broke free from Light’s lips.
"Nahahaha he-hehehey quit ihihit!!"
“There it is! I knew you had it in you!” Ryuk howled with delight. His cackling laughter filled the room, almost drowning out Light’s increasingly frantic giggles.
“Hahaha R-Ryuk, stop! Y-you-ahh!-idiot!” Light gasped, trying to push the Shinigami away. His hair was disheveled, his usual calm demeanor shattered by the absurdity of the situation.
“Why would I stop now?” Ryuk said between cackles, his grin wider than ever. “This is the most fun I’ve had in years!”
Eventually, Ryuk relented, floating backward with a gleeful smirk. Light slumped in his chair, gasping for breath, glaring daggers at the Shinigami.
“Seriously what's gotten into you,” Light muttered, straightening his clothes and running a hand through his hair in a futile attempt to restore his dignity.
Ryuk chuckled, still grinning from ear to ear. “Oh, come on, Light. Admit it! That was fun. For me, at least!”
Light shot him a murderous look. “If you ever do that again, I’ll write your name in the Death Note.”
Ryuk cackled once more, completely unfazed. “Oh, Light… as if you’d get rid of me. Who else would make you laugh like that?”
Light rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, but Ryuk only continued to float around the room, still amused by his newfound discovery.
And though Light would never admit it out loud, he knew he’d have to stay on his guard from now on - because Ryuk had found yet another way to torment him.
a/n: ahhhh I forgot how much I like this show omg! I feel like all I write for is lee!Angel but that's gonna change soon a promise!! also these two are just so AKANKDKODHHFBF /pos I really hope I did them justice here LMAOO! Enjoy :)
Lee!Angel
Ler!Husk (slight ler!charlie in the beginning)
Word Count: 1016
Cw: show appropriate language, sfw tickles
Summary: Husk witnesses Charlie do the "exploding spider" trick on Angel's knee, showcasing how ticklish that joint is on the spider. What kind of person would Husk be to not exploit the ticklishness of his friend?
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“AH- Charlie! Whahat the fuck?” Angel’s shrieky voice can be heard by Husk’s as he looked up, to see the spider on the couch and Charlie giggling next to him. Angel was rubbing his knee as the princess spoke, “I’m sorry, Angel! It’s just so funny how you react when I do that!”
“Yeah, funny for you, torture for me,”
“Torture- oh my Satan, Angel, you’re so dramatic,” Carlie giggled as Angel got up and headed over to the bar. He was met with a smug, yet slightly confused Husk as the cat gave Angel his usual martini.
“What did she do?” Husk asked, enjoying seeing the blush rush to Angel’s cheeks.
“She did that stupid exploding thing on my knee,” Angel said in faux anger as he took a sip of the drink, “you know what I’m talkin’ about.”
It took Husk a moment, but eventually he understood what happened. “Oh, I see. She got you with the exploding-spider?”
Now Angel was confused, “What? No! She did this!” Angel said as he reached across the bar and down to Husk’s knees. He ran his fingers down the bartender’s knees, smiling as he thought he caught him off guard.
However, Husk didn’t even move. Angel looked up at Husk in shock. “Are you done?” Husk said, keeping his voice monotone as an idea stuck in his head.
Angel, ever gullible, fell for it. “What? No way this doesn’t tickle ya. You’re normally like really ticklish on your knees!” Angel said in disbelief as he repeated the motion, switching knees.
“It just doesn’t work on me,” Husk said, taking one of his claws and dragging it down Angel’s exposed ribs. Said spider squeaked and immediately retracted his hand, “My turn.”
Angel barely had time to figure out his situation before Husk jumped over the bar and picked Angel up bridal-style and started heading towards the couch. Now the actor stared panicking. “Hey- Hey! What are you– HEY!” Angel squealed when the bartender threw him onto the couch and sat on his thighs.
“Sorry, legs, you made a funny sound when Charlie tickled you here,” Husk said bluntly, not sorry at all, as he wasted no time. He grew his claws out (not super sharp) and began to spider all over Angel’s knees.
Said man shrieked as he quickly fell into loud, belly laughter. Fell was the perfect word to describe it, as he tossed his head back, he was grateful there was a pillow there to cushion his head from the motion. “HUhuhusk! StahaHAHAhap it!” Angel used his top hands to try and cover his face to muffle his loud, shrieky laugh, while his other hands pushed on the cat’s back.
Husk grunted, but found it easy to keep his balance, noticing the tickling taking away a lot of Angel’s strength. “Hey, you know what’s funny? You’re a spider who can’t take a spidering!” Husk chuckled at the irony, switching to underneath Angel’s knees.
The screech Angel emitted could shatter glass, and Husk’s ears went down to shield him from permanent ear damage. “Jeez, legs, this spot really gets ya, huh? Is this your death spot?” He smirked as he heard the spider’s laugh go silent, “Yeah, that’s right, shut up cause you can’t handle the truth. That or it tickles way too much for you to even laugh. I’m heavily relying on the latter.” He chuckled as Angel managed to get out a “SHUT UP” before dissolving into more silent cackles.
Having an evil idea, Husk gave Angel a small breather. The spider was greedily taking in gulps of air as he giggled his fluffy head off. “Ohohokay, ya hahad yohour fuhun, let me up nohow!” Angel said as he used his top arms to prop himself up on his elbows.
“Not so fast, I’m not done yet~” Husk growled out that last word, finally turning around to face Angel. He had to fight to not smile at the latter’s pink face and teary eyes. Not to mention his huge smile. Angel can deny it all he wants, but this is one of his favourite forms of affection to receive from Husk.
However, Husk kept up the “evil ler” behaviour as he started spidering his claws around Angel’s stomach. “The itsy bitsy spiiiderrr went up the water spout!” He sang as he slowly spidered closer to Angel’s ribs. The spider groaned out as he hysterically giggled.
“Nohohohoho! Nohohohot thehehe stuhuhupid sohohohong!” Angel covered his face again, but quickly glued his arms to his sides with a squeak as Husk poked at his upper under arms.
“Down came the rain,” At this, Husk continued to poke his claws now Angel’s ribs, down his sides, and a few quick pokes to his hips just for good measures, “And washed the spider out!” As he sang the last part, he dragged his claws to Angel’s knees again, spidering over the tops and undersides of his ridiculously ticklish joints.
Husk was having much more fun than he wanted to let show. He always enjoyed turning Angel into a giggly, blushy mess, and this was his favourite way to do so. To be mean, he stayed at that spot for 30 seconds longer than necessary until Angel managed to giggle out, “MOHOHOVE OHOHON! PLEHEHEAHASEHE!” so he decided to be merciful.
“Out came the sun, and dried up all the rain,” He continued as he moved back to Angel’s hips, giving them a few exploding-spiders and enjoying how that tactic seemed to work a lot better than the poking, “and the itsy bitsy spiiiderrr, went up the spout again” He finished by digging his claws into Angel’s lower pair of underarms. Angel’s laugh went from shrieky gasps to silent very fast. “Holy shit, you might be the most ticklish person I’ve ever met”
Angel couldn’t respond, so he resorted to weakly flipping Husk off. As retaliation, Husk started doing the “exploding spider” trick on Angel’s shoulders, said sinner dissolved into helpless giggles as he weakly tapped on the cat’s leg. “MEHEHehehrcy! IhIhIhI gihihive! I GIHIHIVE! HUHUHUHUSK!” With one final scribble to Angel’s higher pair of underarms, Husk decided his friend had enough. He ran his and (or paw? idrk) through Angel’s hair, resisting the urge to tease him for leaning into the contact.
“Had fun?” Husk asked with a smirk on his usually grumpy face.
“S-Shuhut up, yohohou bully!” Angel blushed as he shooed his friend away from his hair, quickly fixing it because he just knew it was messy.
Husk chuckled, getting up off the couch and going back to the bar, Angel following after he was done with his hair.
“Why are you staring at me? You’re creeping me out,” Astarion drawled with a raised eyebrow.
You shrugged. “I’m wondering what else you’ve been keeping a secret.”
Astarion huffed out a laugh. “What, you think that because I’m a vampire that I’m untrustworthy? I’m hurt, darling.”
You shook your head quickly, taking Astarion’s hand in your own. “No, it’s not that. I can understand why you kept that secret at first. I’m more curious about… well…”
You fumbled over your words, trying to find out how to phrase it. Astarion smirked and leaned toward you, your faces mere inches apart. “Curious about what, darling? If you’re going to ask about my… preferences, I would like to let you know that I’m open to almost anything.”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “You know I wasn’t going to ask about that, shameless flirt.”
Astarion laughed and cupped your cheek. “What can I say? With someone as lovely as you, it’s hard not to flirt.”
A bit of heat touched your cheeks and you smiled. “I was going to ask if there is anything I should be careful of with you. Vampire-related or not, I want to make sure I’m not making you uncomfortable at all.”
Astarion’s eyes widened in surprise, but he was quick to correct his facial expression. He shrugged. “Darling, nothing you could do would make me uncomfortable. If anything, I should be asking you this question.”
You crossed your arms. Astarion sighed. “Well, I’m not fond of pain, but you know this. If you want to be more, erm– physical with me, I would request gentler touch.”
You smiled at that. “You’re a bit of a softie, then?”
Astarion flushed. “Well, I didn’t say that.”
You laughed and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him close. “What kind of gentle are we talking about? Hugs, kisses, tickles, hand-holding–”
“Since when is tickling considered gentle?”
You looked up at him with a small frown. “It can be very gentle, love. Can I show you?”
Astarion hesitated, but upon seeing the soft look in your eyes, he nodded. You smiled and gently began to trace your hands up his ribs, barely skittering your fingertips as you drew circles and scribbles along his ribs and sides.
Astarion could not hold back a small smile, curling into you as he shook with soft laughter. You grazed his belly and ever so slightly pinched at his hips, making him squeak uncharacteristically.
“Ah–! Hehehe, okahay!” Astarion tapped your shoulder and you ceased your tickling. He did not let go of you, however, still curled against you as you rubbed gentle circles in his back.
“How was that?”
Astarion hummed in contemplation. “Not as agonizing as I imagined. I suppose we could keep that on the list.”
You smiled and pulled out of his embrace to kiss him. He kissed you back, his own hands finding your hips while your lips were locked together. Your breath hitched and he smiled against your lips.
“Now, tell me, darling: how gentle should I be with you?”
