I've been considering digging through old art (drawn before I started this blog) to periodically post them here. So I decided to inaugurate this new tag with a fic inspired by the following doodles.
🔞 Minors and ageless blogs: DNI please 🔞
Date: 9–17 April 2024
Costumes
Summary: Mill and Steve are dressing up for Halloween. To make things a bit more exciting, they agreed to keep their respective costumes a secret while they assemble them. Tonight's Halloween night and finally time to show off!
Word count: ~3k
Includes: Mild restraints / manhandling, lots of teasing, foot focused tickling
"Are you ready?" Mill calls to the bathroom door. "Because I am!"
"Just a second!" The door barely muffles Steve's voice as he responds. "I'm having a little trouble with… this……mrgh!" His words turn into a grumble as he apparently struggles to fasten something.
Mill glances one more time at the full body mirror, as if merely turning their head would've ruined the costume somehow. They can't help but smile, both in pride and amusement.
The two piece suit they've put together looks great. Mill was worried the bright green hue of the whole set would be obnoxious to look at, yet it turned out to be striking in the best way. The colour matches their eyes and the bright streaks in their hair, which they've tied into a bun—the Felt leprechauns don't have hair so this is the best they could do, save for going bald. The maroon tricorn hat does provide a lovely contrast as well. Mill raises the crowbar and rests it on their shoulder. Yep! Every piece of this set belongs together. Mill particularly loves the trousers' pinstripes that are also on the jacket's collar.
A knock on the bathroom door brings them back to reality. "I'm ready, stardust!" Steve announces from the other side.
Mill steps away from the mirror and at the centre of the bedroom. They ready a small pose, crowbar on their shoulder still. "So am I," they reply.
"I'm opening the door in three… two…" On a wordless 'one', Steve finally walks out the en suite.
His smile and eyes widen as he sees Mill. He doesn't know enough about Homestuck to recognise his spouse's costume, Crowbar. Honestly, what matters more to him is how sharp they look in that suit, even though they typically avoid wearing bright, saturated clothes. Mill is donning this presumably in-character stoic face that honestly just makes Steve want to smother them with affection until they melt. But all in due time…
"Looking good, love!" Steve exclaims.
Mill's composed face really doesn't last long as they lay their eyes on their husband. Despite themself, a snort slips past their fist that has quickly moved up to stifle their surprised giddiness. "I'm sorry!" they quickly blurt out, even though Steve appears far from offended by their choked laugh—if anything, he is very pleased by it. "It's just, I wasn't—" They pause briefly to compose themself and to reassess what is standing in front of them. "What are you supposed to be?!" Mill finally asks, utterly bemused. They have a feeling Steve's costume is meant to be silly, because he is clearly happy with their reaction.
"You wanna hazard a guess?" He smiles.
From the cape, the scepter, and, of course, the crown, Steve's costume is undeniably a king. But the king of what? In form, it really looks like a stereotypical king. Aside from the saturated colours—pink, red, blue, and yellow—there are hardly any identifiable features that would allow Mill to figure this out.
They scrutinise Steve's outfit once more. The colours are so wild, they have to be a deliberate choice, but it's not a palette Mill can place—aside from vaguely the pansexual pride flag, but it's not quite it either. They now notice a couple more small, intentional details. He is wearing light yellow gloves. The red cape is clasped with this bejeweled golden chain. Lastly, the yellowish white fuzzy collar—which they first thought was the fur lining you'd typically find on royal capes—is actually a feather boa, of all things.
"A drag king?" Mill guesses. They're not certain of this answer but it's the first best thing that comes to mind.
Steve lets out a deep chuckle. "That's a good guess, but no," he replies. "Although, I could see him as a good concept for one," he adds, coyly resting a pensive finger on his chin.
So, not a drag king but could be one? That hardly narrows it down. "Can you at least tell me if it's a fictional character?" Mill asks.
Steve ponders. "Technically, yes. If that's any help, he's, in a way, a fictional character within fiction."
Mill puffs pensively. That is a clue, though it barely helps. The fact he says 'in a way' implies that it's not exactly a diegetically fictional character. So, maybe it's an imaginary character of a fictional character, yet also not fleshed out enough to be a character itself?
Mill loves a good puzzle but all of this is vague as hell. They drop their shoulders in defeat. "I— I throw in the towel," they admit sheepishly. "What are you supposed to be, love?"
Steve smiles softly. He approaches Mill and takes their free hand. He brings it up to his lips to kiss their knuckles, which already summons that lovely dark shade to his spouse's cheeks. "He comes to me and shouts and bellows in my ear, 'Here I am! here I am!'," he cites, "till the blood comes dancing back and brings some of the sunshine that he carries with him to my cheek."
Mill's eyebrows slowly raise to the ceiling in recognition. "Oh, friend John," they continue the quote, "it is a strange world, a sad world, a world full of miseries, and woes, and troubles; and yet"—they pause for dramatic effect as a wide smile creeps on their face—"when King Laugh come, he make them all dance to the tune he play."
Steve gives them a little boop on the nose. "I half-expected you'd say all of that with a Dutch accent," he jokes.
Mill lets out a small incredulous but also impressed laugh. "Did you really make a whole costume based on, what, two pages from Stoker's Dracula?"
"Says the bird dressed up as a minor character from a several-thousand-page webcomic," Steve jokingly retorts.
Mill retaliates with the same energy. "Well, at least people who read it would immediately recognise my costume!"
"Oh, the point of my costume is not to be recognised," Steve replies coyly.
Mill raises their eyebrows. "Oh? What is it then?"
"It comes with a surprise!" Steve raises a finger to his lips. Then he points at the armoire on the other side of the room. "I hid a little gift for you in the wardrobe."
Mill gives him a little incredulous smirk but indulges him. It is Halloween after all; surprises are what this holiday is about. They walk up to the armoire, rest their crowbar against a nearby chair, and start rummaging through it.
With a devious smile, Steve quietly removes the brooch of his cape and carefully pulls the garment off his shoulders. He grabs it up by two corners, holding it out like a net, and slowly walks up behind his unsuspecting spouse.
Mill is too focused on their task to notice anything. They soon take one step back to readjust their hat after bumping it against the hung jackets and shirts. They open their mouth to express their disbelief that the present can't be found after a cursory search—when their hat gets carelessly knocked out of their hands! Before they could process why that happened, a thick cloth covers them and wraps around them.
In the red darkness, Mill yelps despite themself as one strong arm coils around their shoulders while another, around their middle. The floor disappears from beneath their feet and the world spins for a couple of seconds. They land supine on something soft—the bed. As they have processed that, the mattress shifts around them as something heavy straddles their hips.
Oh… This is the surprise. They’ve made the foolish mistake of turning their back on the body.
Steve chuckles as he superficially runs his hands along the sides of his bundled spouse. Mill’s arms are stuck up at head level under the thick cloth; still, the same fabric protects their sensitive flanks from his teasing touch. Regardless, Mill clearly gets the message; they squirm and whimper, more out of anticipation than anything.
“This,” Steve says as he lightly drums his fingers on their stomach, “is why I chose King Laugh.”
Again, thanks to the several layers of fabric, Mill can only feel the slight pressure of the taps. Still, they can’t help but giggle because of how silly this is.
“I gotta admit,” Steve adds, giving his hands and Mill a little rest, “I wanted to go as a tickle monster at first.” His grin widens. “You know, to mess with you a little!”
Fuck! Why did he say that? Now Mill is wondering what that would’ve looked like.
“But I figured King Laugh would be less… well, monstrous,” Steve continues. Plus, he knows Mill appreciates a literary reference. “Though, on second thought…” He gives their lower ribs a couple of quick consecutive pinches, which earns him a squeal and some feet kicking. “Something tells me you’d like that too~!”
Mill had a feeling this is what Steve's costume choice has been leading towards. Even before he revealed it to be King Laugh, the boa clued them in on his imminent shenanigans. Still, they weren't expecting him to strike so soon.
"So how about we get serious then, Mixter Seven?" Steve says teasingly as he turns around to straddle their ankles. He drums his fingers on the bottoms of their shoes. "What am I saying! King Laugh, serious?" He chuckles. "Don't make me laugh!" Mill feels one of their shoes come off as they hear Steve say "That's my job."
Immediately a single finger drags up and down their sole. Mill wishes they haven't squeaked so soon, but the surprise element is too strong.
"Kitchy-kitchy-kitchy-kitchy!" Steve goes as his finger softly scratches the sensitive bottom of their foot. The obnoxiously green sock provides no protection; if anything, it helps his finger glide more easily.
Mill lets out another squeal despite themself while they shake their feet. Steve briefly pauses and removes his hands. Mill feels him shifting slightly; they can't quite figure out what he's doing. Then he wraps something around their ankles, holding them together. Mill taps their feet together to test the bond. This simply entices Steve to resume his work, drumming his fingers on both soles. Even if one is still protected by the shoe, Mill giggles helplessly. Steve chuckles at their merry misery as his fingers gradually go from tapping to scribbling. He emphasises the gesture with a cheeky "Ticky-ticky-ticky!"
Mill's sporadic laughter increases in pitch. They futilely try to kick his hands away. Steve retaliates by holding their exposed foot still by the toes and skittering his fingers on their taut sole.
"EEHeehee! Pleeeaase!" Mill begs for nothing in particular.
This prompts Steve to remove their other shoe. Mill instinctively covers the newly exposed foot with the other. So Steve simply spiders his fingers on that one again. Letting out a shrill noise, Mill shields the offended foot with the other. Naturally, Steve targets the new one instead, and they both go back and forth like this for a few seconds. Whenever he attacks, Steve makes a short trilling sound which is echoed by an equally shrill noise from Mill.
Soon, Mill relents and stops shielding the bottoms of their feet altogether, granting Steve full access to them, which he gladly accepts. "Giddy-giddy-giddy!" he coos as his fingers dance on their squirmy soles. He can feel Mill writhe underneath him as their laughter seeps through the fabric. They're completely under his mirthful spell.
Steve smiles and yanks one of their socks off in one clean motion. His fingers resume their dance; whatever sound of protest Mill was about to make morphs into another delightful squeal as his velvet glove makes contact with their sensitive skin. After a couple of seconds, he repeats the exact same process with the other foot.
Soon, Steve gradually slows his proverbial magic to a halt. Once he has stopped, he leans back and listens to his spouse's hiccupy giggles perpetuated by the residual tingles on their figuratively pink soles. Pleased with his work, Steve lies down on his stomach, still on top of Mill, and places a kiss on the top of their toes.
The surprise contact from his warm, fuzzy lips makes Mill let out a quiet, squeaky "ah!". The little noises they make melt his heart every time. What doesn't help is that their toes have perked up, asking for more. He obliges, gently grabbing hold of their feet as he plants another kiss before softly dragging his lips along the knuckles.
Mill lets out another shrill sound as they spread and flex their toes, practically grasping at his facial hair.
Oh, so they want soft now, huh? Steve smirks as he sits back up. Mill goes still with anticipation. He doesn't keep them waiting for long; he pulls the boa from around his neck and holds it over their feet, giving it a little shake to have the feathers caress the tops of their feet.
Mill giggles and wiggles their feet in a half-baked effort to avoid the feathers but only succeeds in tickling themself further, which might've been their initial intent actually. Steve chuckles at this. He seizes both ends of the boa and runs them on the bottoms of their feet. "Tickle-tickle-tickle-tickle!" he whispers to drive the soft torture home.
Mill mewls, squirming in a futile attempt of escape. Steve pulls the boa taut and flosses it on the balls of their feet. The scarf is unfortunately too thick to slip between their toes, so Steve makes up for it by dragging its feathers all over the combined surface of their soles.
"Ohohohoho!" Mill laughs in delighted defeat, barely writhing anymore. Steve smirks and ends everything by wrapping the boa around their feet, earning him one last confused, ticklish squeak. He removes his crown and places it on their feet—or actually, around them, trapping them in their feathery prison.
"I crown thee our new king—erm, well, monarch—of laughter!" he declares before he finally gets off his giggly spouse's legs. He turns around and carefully unfurls the cape, revealing a disheveled Mill.
Their hair is a mess—the bun is half undone; their suit, all rumpled up; and their face, flushed and adorned with a wide grin that Mill immediately hides behind their arms as soon as Steve has unveiled them.
This adorable sight fills Steve with the powerful urge to tickle them all over again—this time, focusing on their belly and sides. However, that would severely overdo it. So, he instead lies down prone, on top of them to drink all of their giddiness in. As he lowers himself, Mill lets out a small anticipatory yelp as they shield their flanks with their elbows, expecting Steve to dig into the sensitive flesh, but soon relaxes as they realise their husband isn't going for another round.
Steve rests his head on Mill's chest, listening to their heartbeat which is still at a decent pace due to the previous excitement. Mill shifts slightly underneath him to get more comfortable. Then they rest their hands on his head, massaging his scalp with their cold fingers in wordless gratitude. Steve sighs, content. Still, he can hardly resist and lets his own fingers wander to Mill's now open sides. He only lightly scribbles there; just enough for him to hear the giggles bubbling in their ribcage and their heartbeat quicken slightly. He stops and smiles, satisfied, as his lover resumes gently scratching the side of his skull, sending little shivers down his spine. "You really couldn't help yourself, could you?" Mill says flatly, but Steve could detect the concealed amusement in their voice. Steve snorts. "S'not like you tried to stop me," he remarks and, to prove his point, wiggles a single finger on their lower ribs. Mill bucks slightly and giggles, tapping on Steve's shoulder twice. At the signal, he complies and stops. "Well, not until now," he adds.
Mill exhales and resumes giving Steve head scratches. They absentmindedly shuffle their trapped feet, letting the soft feathers caress their soles and draw a smile on their face. "It's a good costume," they state, audibly content.
Steve feels a little guilty as he realises, running a hand over their rumpled suit, "I didn't ruin yours, did I?"
"Nothing I can't fix," Mill reassures him with another pat on the head. "Don't worry about it."
"Good, 'cause you gotta wear it more often," Steve sighs with a smile. "You look fantastic."
Mill's face grows hot. "Uh— I c—! Well, I—" they sputter, failing to articulate that they can't possibly wear a bright green suit on any occasion other than a costumed event. So, they mutter simply, "Thank you."
Steve chuckles, glad that he's done a good job. He props himself back up and leans forward to give his spouse a kiss. "All good?" he asks.
Mill nods, uttering a quiet "Yes."
He gives them another kiss and moves to stand up. Mill lies still, smiling and watching him as he brushes himself off and looks back at them. He smiles, then looks at their feet—still wrapped in feathers and crown—and smiles wider. Mill flinches in anticipation as he reaches for them but it turns out Steve is simply untying the light blue fabric belt he has previously wrapped around their ankles.
When he steps away, casually tying the belt back around his waist, Mill pipes up, "Oi, king!" They lift their still adorned feet up a tad. "I believe you're forgetting something?"
"Nah!" Steve shakes his head with wide grin. "I named you monarch, remember?"
Mill blushes which automatically makes Steve chuckle. So, Mill asks, "What does that make you, then?"
Steve walks back to them and leans over to kiss them again. "Your husband," he replies simply, brushing their cheek.
Mill's face grow darker. Still, they reach up and pull their husband in for another kiss—much longer this time.
The end
