Summary: Ilya makes a discovery during one of their hook-ups. Shane counts on him forgetting, but of course, he doesn't. (Canon-typical NSFW stuff. Minors, don't interact. I'm obsessed with this show.)
Shane didn’t expect that Ilya Rozanov could be so gentle.
On the ice, he’s swift, calculated, out for blood. And off of it, he’s snarky, a little rude…an asshole, as Shane often calls him.
But in this hotel room, Ilya’s calloused hands move softly, gracefully over Shane’s skin, handling him like something delicate, ready to shatter. It makes him feel vulnerable, too vulnerable, and he has to get out of his head before he fumbles the chance to feel Ilya inside of him for the first time in months.
He presses their lips together, successfully pulling himself back into the right headspace—Ilya’s kisses aren’t so soft, they have more fire in them, a kind of desperate passion that feels like they’re out on the ice, playing a game.
He’s on his back, legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist. He wants him close, as close as possible, because by tomorrow, the only touching they will be doing is slamming into one another on their skates, and he craves the heat of Ilya’s skin against his, has been not-so-patiently waiting for Ilya to fulfill the promises he’s made in all his filthy text messages.
Ilya’s fingers absent-mindedly curl around the back of Shane’s thigh, nails lightly grazing the sensitive skin there, and Shane’s leg twitches involuntarily—it sends goosebumps over his skin, and he lets out a little gasp against the other’s lips.
Ilya pulls away. “You okay?” he asks.
Shane nods, leaning back in, but Ilya doesn’t kiss him again, not just yet. Instead, the bastard repeats the action, and Shane’s expecting it this time, but the muscles in his leg still tense at the feeling, toes flexing.
“Hollander, are you…” Ilya pauses, like he’s trying to remember the right word. “Ticklish?”
The word rolls of his tongue easily now that he’s found it, and wow, his English really has gotten better over the years, and Shane’s stomach flutters.
“No,” he replies, and he sees the mischievous glint forming in Ilya’s eyes, the smirk threatening to tug at his mouth, and Shane refuses to give him the satisfaction. He grabs a fistful of Ilya’s curls and brings their lips back together.
He successfully manhandles Ilya flat onto his back, so that Shane is the one on top now, and Ilya’s hands are busy grabbing at Shane’s ass now; a successful distraction, it seems.
Even Shane himself forgets, lost in the feeling of Ilya’s cock inside of him, the blinding pleasure of it all. It’s been so long, too long since he’s had this relief, and he’s not eager to let it go just yet, holding off his orgasm for as long as possible, trying to make the moment last.
After they’ve finished, and Ilya has gone back to his room, Shane’s phone vibrates with a text.
Lily: I will remember how ‘not ticklish’ you are next time.
Shane’s cheeks get hot, and he promptly puts his phone back down, heading off the shower.
It’ll be months before they see each other again.
He’s sure that Ilya will forget by then.
***
Ilya does not forget.
In all the years they’ve known each other, all the times he has touched Shane’s body, he remembers everything. He remembers the way Shane’s throat quivers under his lips, how he can feel Shane’s heartbeat jackhammering through the skin of his chest. He remembers how Shane likes to be touched, the spots to kiss and lick and stroke to make him whimper and moan.
He also remembers the ways Shane doesn’t like to be touched, is very aware of what not to do to make sure he feels comfortable and safe.
When they’re apart, Ilya reminisces on these memories, thinks about new things he can try the next time they see one another, wonders if Shane is touching himself to the memories too.
They’re in Boston this time, and Ilya has been texting Shane dirty things for days now, teasing him in preparation for this night.
Shane shows up right on time, hood pulled up, nervous eyes darting up and down the hotel hallway. Ilya pulls him inside, watches as he folds his clothes in that stupidly endearing way as he undresses, desperate to touch him after months apart.
Ilya leads him to the bed, pressing quick kisses to his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.
Shane’s kissing back, planting his lips wherever they reach, like the crown of Ilya’s head or his collarbone as he shuffles backwards, letting himself be pushed back against the mattress.
There’s a delicate dance to this, what they have. They don’t talk about what they are, what this means, but it isn’t devoid of tenderness and care, either. It isn’t a quick hook-up, it isn’t hate-fucking, it’s…Well, it’s something that Ilya doesn’t quite have a word for, in either language, and he thinks it might be better left unsaid.
And so, while he knows Shane’s body so well, has been inside him, something about this feels more intimate. He’s heard Shane laugh before, at interviews and parties, a few times with him, when they bumped heads in the middle of changing positions, but it’s not in the nature of their relationship to be…silly.
But he’s just too fucking tempted to see Shane Hollander let loose a little, in a different way than normal.
He brings his hand to the back of Shane’s leg, like last time, and slowly, deliberately scrapes his nails along the skin, ghosting behind his knee, and Shane twitches, bending his knee and trapping Ilya’s fingers there.
Ilya looks up with a smirk, and is delighted to see Shane’s cheeks are flushed.
“Told you I would not forget, Hollander,” he says. “I have excellent memory.”
Shane does his best to glare, but he just ends up looking pouty. Ilya’s startled by how cute he finds it, and to try and ignore that thought process, he squeezes at the muscle of Shane’s thigh.
Shane lets out a strangled sort of noise and shoves at Ilya’s chest. “Rozanov, don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what? This?” he asks, repeating the action a few times in rapid succession, and finally, a little giggle slips out and Shane is smacking at his arm, trying to shove him away.
They’re both naked, and they’ve gone soft now, but they’re both grinning like idiots and Shane looks so adorably flustered. Shane manages to get himself free from Ilya’s grip, tucking both his legs under himself protectively.
“I hate you,” Shane murmurs.
Ilya chuckles. “Can you ever forgive me?” he asks, giving Shane his best wide, pleading eyes. He sidles up next to him, presses a little kiss to his shoulder.
Shane’s pout slips away into a smile, and he leans down to kiss the bridge of Ilya’s nose. Their lips find each other’s once again, and soon, its like nothing ever happened.
They just barely crossed into a forbidden zone, that too-soft territory that they’ve been avoiding. A delicate dance—How far can they delve into couple-like affection before it becomes too much to handle?
It comes in little bursts like this: The tender forehead kisses, the lingering brushes of knuckles, the laughter, the teasing.
Shane nips the shell of Ilya’s ear and whispers, “Are you ticklish, Rozanov?”
“Russians are not ticklish,” Ilya replies.
By the look on Shane’s face, he knows he doesn’t believe him, so he pins him back against the mattress, ready to take him apart and clear his mind.
He wonders if Shane will remember that comment for next time.
Summary: (S2 E4) Vox finally has Alastor all to himself. Utterly helpless, completely at his mercy. When he struggles to get a rise out of Alastor, he searches for new methods, and he could not be more pleased with what he finds out.
Tw: Super, super intense tickling. Noncon, though ig it's possible to stretch it into dubcon if you really want to. Bondage. Gag usage. Canon typical swearing (So, a lot). Suggestive material. Implied sexual fantasies (not acted upon). Explicit violent fantasies (not acted upon). Mentions of blood (hypothetical). Forced undressing (upper body only). Mentions of major (canon) injuries (Alastor's wound). Infliction of minor injury. Extensive, but relatively neutral commentary on Alastor's very skinny body (it's just sinner anatomy). Brief ler drop. Crying. Unrequited feelings. Mood swings. Absolute freak behavior. Please, please, please let me know if I missed any!
---
Oooohhhhh boy. You read that right, 9.9k words! This really got out of hand and took me forrreeevveerrr. This is my first time really leaning into a limited perspective, and I had a lot of fun playing with that. As much as I want to let this fic speak for itself like a good author should, I have much too much to say, so there will be a little ramble at the end for those who are interested in my thoughts.
Read below the cut!
.
.
.
“Ohoh my god!” Vox exclaimed, pacing around Alastor. “You’re mine. I still can’t believe it, Al. Just. Wow.”
Alastor raised an eyebrow. It was about all he could do, bound to the chair and gagged as he was.
It just made Vox laugh. “Ohhh, Alastor, Alastor, Alastor, Alastor.” His voice darkened and distorted at the end. He placed his hands on Alastor’s shoulders and leaned in.
Alastor rolled his eyes, but Vox caught the tiniest recoil upon contact. He was used to it, especially with Alastor, and thought nothing of it.
Vox squeezed and pulled Alastor closer to his screen. “What should I do with you?” He could hear the eager edge of his own voice. It didn’t matter to him. Alastor was his plaything. “I could have you any way I wanted.”
That got Alastor’s brows to furrow, which made Vox’ smile widen.
Like this, with a printed frown and washed in blue lighting, Alastor truly looked pitiable.
Vox tugged at the edge of the gag wrapped around Alastor’s face, but didn’t pull it down. “What was that?”
He waited for a reply that would never come. The gag silencing Alastor was one of his favorite pieces of technological advancements. It had the ability to completely silence noise. Even if Alastor wanted to put up a futile attempt to muffle out a biting remark, he would go completely unheard. It wasn’t often the Radio Demon was silenced, and Vox couldn’t be prouder of himself. This was all just too perfect.
“No, you’re not even worth that.” He trailed a claw along Alastor’s jaw.
The muscles tensed as Alastor ground his teeth together. Besides the incredibly subtle movement, there was no further reaction.
Alastor’s composure was difficult to break, and it was starting to piss Vox off. What good was having Alastor on a platter if he couldn’t get a proper rise out of him? At least if Alastor could speak he’d have something to go off of, but Alastor being forcibly silenced was not something he was going to sacrifice just for some nostalgic witty banter.
“Alright, Al,” Vox muttered, removing his hands to tap at his screen pensively. “I’ll get you to break, don’t worry.”
Alastor’s head tilted an inch to the left and he crossed his legs at the knees, letting his foot bounce slightly in the air. There was the faintest sound of studio laughter. Vox could see the smugness in his eyes. Even his shadow, projected on the cold tiles of the floor, wore a pompous smile–however that worked.
Vox needed to snuff it out. Immediately.
What could he do? It was so hard to get under that bastard’s skin with words alone, one-sided or not. Pain didn’t do much, either, though he’d be sure to thoroughly test that once Alastor was a little more broken in. He knew vaguely that Alastor didn’t enjoy physical contact, but could that really be enough to shake him? He did usually tense slightly when Vox laid his hands on him (as he’d just been reminded), but it could hardly even be called a slip in the overall air of indifference Alastor was drowning in these days. Vox could just touch him more, maybe.
Well, okay. As much as he savored the thought, he didn’t really want to have Alastor in that way. Not outside of his head, anyway. Not anymore.
It was worth a shot to see if just… touching Alastor would do anything. Unsexy, unerotic touch, but touch nonetheless.
He knelt down in front of Alastor and once again grabbed his shoulders. Alastor was expecting it this time and didn’t react at all. Whatever. He’d have to give in eventually.
“Alastor,” Vox said, sickly sweet, and started kneading as if he was simply giving a massage. His thumbs dug into the stiff muscles of Alastor’s neck, and his fingers curled around his back.
Alastor held eye contact with Vox, challenging.
Vox met his gaze, watching intently for any sign of unease. It was admittedly awkward, staring into Alastor’s eyes while rubbing his shoulders. But it would be worth it if it pissed Alastor off.
The massage obviously wasn’t relaxing, but it was clear it wasn’t getting him anywhere in terms of breaking Alastor’s spirits. He slid his hands down Alastor’s arms. His fingers lightened as he dragged them over the wires keeping Alastor still until they lingered on Alastor’s elbows.
He felt them move. Barely. It might not have even been noticeable if he wasn’t also feeling the subtle shift of the wires. They didn’t have any sensory input on their own, but Vox had a spatial awareness of each and every wire connected through his demonic magic, which–because of how tightly they wrapped around Alastor–allowed him to feel any small tremor in Alastor’s upper body and arms.
Vox locked onto the small movement like a shark to blood. It wasn’t the flinch of first contact. Alastor would have been fully aware of the movement of Vox’s hands before they reached his elbows, so surely it was something more. Something Vox could work with.
Experimentally, he trailed his claw around the tip of Alastor’s elbows. They jerked again, a little more, and Alastor’s eye twitched almost imperceptibly.
“What, Alastor? Is this bothering you?”
He moved his index finger and thumb together, pinching a small amount of skin and fabric between his claws.
Alastor’s body moved more forcibly this time. He jumped and strained against the wires. Even still, the movement was practically microscopic. The wires felt his chest contract with a miniscule, choppy exhale.
Genuinely, Vox didn’t understand why someone would be so repulsed by physical touch that they actually jumped away from it, even if it were from an enemy. It was clear Alastor was attempting to hold back his reactions and just barely missing the mark, which was unusual. Not that he was complaining, of course! This was the goal, after all. It’s just that Alastor was so good at saving face and biting down his annoyance in almost any situation, so he wondered what made this so different.
Oh well, he wouldn’t stop his fun by pulling his gag down and asking him. That’d just be silly.
He continued to pinch Alastor’s elbows, soft and slow. This twitching really was getting quite entertaining. The longer Vox teased his elbows, the less subtle Alastor’s movements got. It went from millimeters to centimeters.
His waist and elbows were relatively immobile, but after a couple of minutes his shoulders actually started visibly twisting and he tried to fold himself down. The convulsions in his chest got more erratic with the sharp hitches in his breath. Alastor’s eyes looked angry. There was something burning in them and his eyebrows were pushed together dramatically. Even Alastor’s static was getting louder.
Vox was eating it up. Annoying Alastor in any form was just so incredibly delightful.
At one point, as Vox had the tips of Alastor’s elbows in his fingers, he wiggled his claws into the bone. Microphone feedback cut through the static–so quiet, but definitely there. Alastor’s eyes widened and he fought against the wires to double over while one of his knees shot up. He caught himself and froze just a second too late.
Holy fuck. Was that- no way. How had Vox not realized before? This whole time Vox thought he was just aggravating Alastor; he didn’t even register what was actually going on. Vox’s eyes took on a manic quality and he cackled. “You’re- you’re- Oh shit, this is amazing! It’s tickling you!?”
Alastor took in a deep breath, eyes shut. They opened on the exhale to peer at Vox through his furrowed eyebrows. One of his brows flicked up as a ‘DING, DING, DING!’ sound effect played. Alastor tilted his head and leaned back in the chair, looking Vox up and down.
“Hey!” Leave it to Alastor to be lippy without saying a word! What was he insinuating? Vox expected him to be embarrassed about it or something, but he was acting like Vox was the stupid one for not realizing it sooner. “Enough of that attitude! You’re so unbelievably fucked right now.”
Vox left no time for Alastor to sass him back. His hands darted to his ribs and he started rapidly squeezing.
Alastor’s arms tightened against his sides (though there wasn’t much room between them in the first place) and his back arched. His radio static cut out for a second as his legs jerked. Vox had to dodge his boney knee.
Vox laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was silly and childish and that’s why it was so fucking satisfying to inflict upon Alastor.
He wiggled his fingers in between each of Alastor’s ribs, which were a little difficult to feel underneath his thick coat, so he just pressed harder to compensate. “Ohoh, Alastor! This is perfect! I hope you’re fucking seething, bitch.”
Alastor’s chest was jumping as he twisted from side to side. It wasn’t enough movement to dislodge Vox’s hands.
Vox was so curious about what Alastor’s laugh would be like, and knew he’d have to remove the gag at some point. For now, though, he was satisfied with the lack of back-talk and he was perfectly entertained just watching and feeling him squirm.
He stayed on Alastor’s ribs for ages. He’d move spots eventually, sure, but there was no rush when he was in total control. And it was such a good spot, too. Alastor couldn’t decide whether to lean forward or arch back, but neither got him away from it in the slightest. It was hilarious.
When his hands reached a little higher, almost to his armpits, Alastor’s head snapped up. Vox could see his eyes forced shut. He looked so pissed off, but the edge of mirth was unmistakable. When his hands dipped lower, Alastor rocked and kicked his legs so hard the chair started to roll away.
“Woah,” Vox said. His foot pressed into the base of the chair, catching it before it got too far. “Where do you think you’re going?” He pulled Alastor back with his hands, still scratching at his ribs. He called upon additional wires to wrap around Alastor’s legs and shoulders, binding them to the chair and almost fully immobilizing him. Now he could see and feel every minor twitch–every time Alastor tried to shift away (and it was a lot), but he didn’t have to chase Alastor with his hands to stay put. “Good fucking luck rolling away now.”
Vox dug in with a renewed vigor. His thumbs scratched endlessly in the gaps between the bones, meanwhile his fingers slipped behind Alastor–there was just enough give to get between him and the back of the chair–to wiggle into the edges of his shoulder blades.
Alastor threw his head back. He was practically bouncing in his seat. The wires at Alastor’s shoulders were being struggled against in short, frequent bursts. Alastor’s legs were absolutely fighting for their lives trying to kick out. There was another burst of feedback.
Vox was lucky he didn’t have actual ears, or else the urge to let go of Alastor to cover them might win. Thankfully it only lasted a second. “Eugh. You’re lucky this look is so fitting for you, Al, because the sound is terrible.”
Suddenly the room was filled with the loudest, most annoying feedback Vox had ever heard. This time his hands did actually leave Alastor, aiming for his nonexistent ears out of instinct. “Fuck!”
Alastor was practically panting, trying to catch his breath. Even still, Vox could tell he had the most shit eating grin on under the gag. Alastor was laughing. Vox wasn’t even tickling him still, and he was laughing. Alastor was laughing at him.
“Alright, Alastor. You shut the fuck up.”
He grabbed Alastor by the head in a messy grip. Most of it was hair, some of it was Alastor’s ear. It was definitely painful; the wires felt Alastor’s body stiffen and there was a delightful crinkle of displeasure at the corner of his eye. Vox roughly pulled Alastor’s face up to his screen.
The feedback died off quite quickly. Vox was pretty sure it was just Alastor losing focus, but he chose to believe it was because Alastor was intimidated by him.
“I own you, bitch!”
Alastor’s eyes flicked to the side. A laugh track played.
Vox growled. He kept his grip tight and with his other hand he clawed into Alastor’s belly. He felt it jump under his fingers and watched as Alastor’s face screwed up. Vox could feel the resistance of Alastor’s head trying to pull away, but with the restriction of everything up to his shoulders, he didn’t have a lot of leverage to escape Vox’s grasp. It gave Vox the perfect view of his eyes. They were desperate. Overwhelmed.
Alastor’s stomach was surprisingly concave. Vox should have expected it considering the rest of Alastor’s slim figure, and it wasn’t all that uncommon for sinners to be practically skeletal anyway. There wasn’t a lot there to pinch, so instead Vox just dug his fingers into the jumping muscle.
“Don’t forget who’s in charge here,” Vox said, grinning sadistically.
Alastor did make an effort to keep eye contact with Vox, the prideful piece of shit that he was, but eventually he couldn’t hold his eyes open anymore. At that point, Vox let go of his hair with a shove, sending Alastor’s head falling back. It immediately tucked as far as it was able to into Alastor’s chest in a pitiful attempt to double over.
He used both hands now to tickle Alastor’s stomach. His entire waist was slender enough and Vox’s hands large enough, thanks to demon anatomy, that he could wrap his fingers the whole way around it, so there were claws poking into the front, sides and back of his torso. “You’re so pathetic,” Vox said. “I can’t believe this is so easy.”
The wires were being fought against fervently, but they kept Alastor still. It was kind of uncanny how little Alastor actually moved despite clearly trying to. Vox couldn’t imagine what that felt like on Alastor’s end–to be so thoroughly restrained and absolutely powerless to interfere with someone else’s hands on your body. It stirred something in Vox’s stomach. Not arousal, which surprised him. This was closer to butterflies, or maybe shooting stars sparkling inside of him. It was a longing for the present as if it were a memory long past. He didn’t expect to ever feel that again with Alastor, yet here he was.
It was incredibly entertaining to feel how Alastor’s struggling lessened or increased depending on where Vox’s hands went. His back didn’t seem to make him squirm as much, so Vox focused his attention on his hips and belly.
Alastor’s static began crackling and cutting out in small bursts as Vox stayed on those spots, never relenting. Alastor’s breathing was getting more erratic. Vox had kept him laughing behind the gag for so long he was probably struggling to get air.
Vox didn’t mind, though. He doubted Alastor would pass out or anything, and if he did, Vox could just pick this back up where he left off when Alastor came to.
Vox’s fingers danced around Alastor’s sides as his thumbs curled into the muscle just below where Vox estimated Alastor’s navel was. It was difficult to tell over his coat, though.
Wait. Actually.
Vox chuckled sadistically as the thought hit him. What reason did he have to not tear open Alastor’s coat this very second? What would Alastor do, bite him? Please.
So he called for his wires to loosen at Alastor’s front just enough for Vox to slip his hand under them. Immediately, Alastor’s torso started squirming around with its new, tiny amount of freedom, but it didn’t make too much of a difference for Vox at the moment.
He let his claw glide through the fastenings at the middle, starting from just below Alastor’s chin (which, by the way, made Alastor scrunch his neck up adorably) and trailing slowly down his body. It tore through three layers of fabric, neatly. It was just the buttons and his bowtie that were damaged. They fell back to reveal Alastor’s bare chest and stomach.
At the same time, a high pitch screech echoed eerily around the walls. Vox couldn’t place what the sound was, exactly. It sounded similar to a fork scraping across a plate, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t it. Either way, it wasn’t nearly as annoying as the feedback, and it was over rather quickly.
Vox granted Alastor the mercy of a small break, taking the time to instead just appreciate the view. Alastor’s torso was the same grey as his face, but Vox was delighted to see there was a substantial amount of fur, though not so much that it obstructed the contours of Alastor’s skinny ass body. His ribs were visible even from the front. Vox could follow them with his eyes all the way to the center where they met Alastor’s sternum. The jagged, red gash left by Adam was a point of interest, and definitely something Vox would explore at a later date, but wasn’t at the forefront of his mind at the moment. Vox had left Alastor’s pants intact but he could still see his hipbones jutting out so sharply Vox wondered how they hadn’t cut through the fabric on their own. Vox’s eyes were most drawn to the spasming muscles of Alastor’s stomach, and his chest’s heavy rising and falling.
With a flick of his wrist, the wires tightened again at once. There was something about the way they immediately stifled his movement and dug valleys into Alastor’s fur that Vox found immensely thrilling.
What was even more thrilling was Alastor’s face. He looked downright murderous. In any other circumstance, Vox might have the sense to be nervous about the way Alastor’s eyebrows were cutting downwards, or the way his eye was twitching. Now, though, the sight sent a ball of warmth deep in his chest. It made him giddy. He couldn’t bite back his smile if he tried.
“Don’t worry, Al,” Vox said, voice lilting. “There’s no one here to see you but me.”
Alastor’s eyes narrowed.
He brought his hand up to drift his claws along Alastor’s furred stomach. Bare as it was, Vox could feel the skin shudder upon contact. He twisted a tuft of fur between his fingers, enjoying the texture, and the jumping of Alastor’s chest.
The rougher tickling was nice, of course, but without all that useless fabric in the way Vox could revel in making Alastor writhe around with the lightest of touches. It felt much more intimate. He hoped Alastor felt the same, because he knew it would piss him off.
Vox laid his clawtips just below Alastor’s wound and leisurely trailed them down. It left tiny canyons of parted fur that slowly righted themselves as Alastor’s torso squirmed. He made a few detours to graze along Alastor’s sides before getting to the part he was most excited about.
Once he reached Alastor’s navel he removed all but his pointer finger. He let the single, sharp edge swirl around his bellybutton with a radius of about an inch or two between it and his finger.
Each rotation of the circle took around ten seconds and every time he completed the loop the circle got smaller and smaller.
As he neared his prize, Alastor’s wiggling increased in vigor. His stomach and lungs bounced with more intent.
Vox shifted his gaze to Alastor’s face. His head was tucked down into his neck. It was shaking slightly in a way Vox doubted was on purpose. His eyes were closed and his eyebrows were pulled together. He looked desperate. It was stunning.
Once again, Vox wanted to know what noises Alastor would be making right now if it weren’t for the gag. It would be pretty great to hear Alastor beg, or scream, or giggle. Anything other than the relentless static and stupid sound effects. Even with that curiosity nipping at him, it was still too satisfying to keep Alastor stripped of his words. He left the gag for now and looked back to Alastor’s belly.
The circle was closing in. Truthfully, actually tickling inside his bellybutton like he planned to may just result in bleeding. His claw was just too sharp to not pierce the skin, and it looked too large to fit anyway. Inflicting pain wasn’t something Vox was opposed to, but like Alastor’s wound, he filed it off to be explored another time.
Just as Vox’s finger scratched along the very edge of Alastor’s belly button, nearly dipping inside but not quite, he began increasing the size of the loop. Around and around and around. Bigger, bigger, bigger.
Alastor’s body stiffened when the circle started to grow. A record scratch sound effect played. The noise itself pulled something into Alastor’s eyes. It was more than the mirth of being tickled.
It was amusement. His head jerked down toward Vox, almost nodding.
Vox felt his display rapidly heat. He had to put a mental effort into not letting it show on his screen. Ever the cocky bitch, huh? It was simply too mocking of a gesture, but a thrum in Vox’s chest insisted it was twistedly familiar in a way he didn’t understand.
“What?” he asked, defensive. “Is this entertaining you? Is this just so funny?”
He didn’t change his pace. Around and around and around. Bigger and bigger still.
As if he was still in control, as if he had any power in this situation, Alastor’s eyes flicked towards Vox’s hands and back up. His ears swayed as his head fell to the side. His body was actively twitching away from the touch, and Alastor still wanted to act unbothered.
“Well it doesn’t make a difference to me! It doesn’t change the fact that I can do whatever the fuck I want and all you can do is sit there and fucking take it!”
Eventually the trail of Vox’s claw was large enough that he could purposefully linger on Alastor’s lowest ribs, where they began to curve up toward his sternum, in the same rotation as the peaks of Alastor’s pointy hipbones.
Vox relished the way the wires at Alastor’s waist and thighs met a particularly driving wave of resistance when he hit his hips. He definitely wanted more of that. “Good spot?”
He finally abandoned his circling to place both hands on Alastor’s hips. The skin was tight where it stretched over the bone. Vox wrapped his fingers over them.
“They’re like handlebars,” he commented absent-mindedly. “It’s like they were made for me to grab.”
That high pitched squeal filled the air again. It was distorted and washed in overdramatic reverb, but it still had the fork-on-a-plate quality. This time it came out in stuttering bursts, like a skipping CD. Or…
Wait.
Was that an elk call?
Vox couldn’t help but laugh at the realization. “Always on brand with you. Fucking hell.”
He squeezed. His fingers curled into the edges of the bones themselves while his thumbs pressed deep into the cavities.
Alastor fought hard. The chair inched back and forth a couple of inches with how forcefully he was trying to toss his body around. His head was swinging aimlessly, frantically, sending his hair in several directions.
Knowing he was the one to cause these reactions in the Radio Demon sent a shiver down Vox’s spine. It was incredible. He had gotten a taste of absolute control over Alastor and he knew he’d never be able to let it go.
He pinched and pulled the taught skin, rubbed firm circles into the bone, and raked his claws through the fur on the sides.
Everything he did sent Alastor into a new wave of thrashing. He liked the feel of the straining wires. He liked the feel of Alastor’s lungs struggling for air beneath his hands. He stayed just like this for longer than he could count.
Vox’s own heart was beating rapidly at the buzz of it all. His head was swimming, but he felt lighter than he’d ever been.
“I own you.” His voice was gritty and deep. “I own every part of you.” He could feel his screen glitching out from the sheer exhilaration coursing through his veins. “I own your voice a-and your b-b-body, and- and- and- and-”
Vox was buffering. He registered vaguely that his hands were stuck in a loop of clenching and unclenching, and so he was squeezing Alastor’s hips rapidly. It was maybe 30 seconds of disconnection.
A drop of water hit his wrist, which grounded Vox enough for him to latch on and shove his way back to the present. He glanced up.
Alastor’s head was hanging down, trembling, and his bangs hid his face. Vox caught it, this time, as another drop fell from behind Alastor’s hair. It landed on Vox’s knee.
Holy shit. Alastor was crying. Alastor was crying. Vox had to take a long, deep breath to cool his systems down and keep from crashing again.
“No way. Noho fucking way!” Vox laughed.
He kept one hand on Alastor’s hip, still scribbling roughly. Never letting up. His other, in contrast, gently grabbed Alastor’s chin between his index finger and thumb. The static swelled, almost loud enough to cover another one of those darling elk noises. He tipped Alastor’s head up to face him.
It was the most beautiful thing Vox had ever seen. Alastor’s face was wet and shiny with tears. They were pooling in the outer corner of his eye and rolling down his cheeks, soaking into his gag. Vox’s attention was drawn to his eyelashes, which held beads of tears like dewdrops on grass. The light in the room caught on the teardrops’ reflection and turned them into glistening blue stars. His eyelashes looked so delicate. Vox didn’t think he’d ever find anything about Alastor cute, but for some reason the soft curl of his lashes, emphasized by their glittery wetness, was genuinely adorable. It made something uncomfortable–yet inescapable–pinch in Vox’s throat.
Alastor’s eyes flitted around, trying to focus, but he couldn’t seem to anchor his gaze on Vox’s screen. They were glossy and dazed. Eventually he gave up trying. His distant, red eyes stared into nothing, releasing another fat, rolling tear.
“Oh, Al,” Vox said quietly. It was almost a whisper, but it carried the bottom edge of his voice. “Look at you. You’re a complete fucking mess.”
He tilted Alastor’s head this way and that, watching as the tears’ shine morphed when the light hit him at a different angle.
Surprisingly, Alastor didn’t give much of a fight. He was still trying to buck against the wires, and the movement jostled his head, but Vox was pretty sure that wasn’t entirely intentional. Maybe he had accepted his fate, or maybe he’d simply ran out of energy, but he wasn’t putting up any resistance. He allowed Vox to reposition his head as he pleased, like a mannequin, giving no indication he even noticed.
Vox traced his thumb along Alastor’s cheekbone. It was a light touch. He didn’t want to think of it as tender.
It made Alastor flinch. Barely noticeable, but Vox was becoming more and more hyperaware of Alastor’s every tremble.
Vox smudged the wet stain on Alastor’s cheek and collected some of it on his claw. He pressed his thumb against his projection-like tongue and rolled the salty liquid around in his mouth. A smirk spread across his screen when he saw Alastor’s eyes flicker and his nose scrunch fleetingly.
Suddenly, Vox broke his rhythm on Alastor’s hips, squeezing roughly over and over again. Feedback rang out. He had to tighten his grip on Alastor’s jaw, surely to the point of pain, to keep him from pulling away when he jumped. Alastor’s face was being held fully in view and Vox was watching his expression like a hawk.
Alastor’s eyes widened. It made them look wild and deranged. His eyebrows drew upward, dimpling the skin in between. Alastor finally managed to settle his gaze onto Vox’s screen, just for a moment, before his eyes screwed shut from the force of his own inaudible laughter. Another wave of tears cascaded down his face.
It was a long while before Vox finally relented and stilled his hand. The tension in Alastor’s body left all at once, leaving him slumped against the chair. The only movement was the deep heaving of his chest. His eyes remained closed. He looked well and truly spent.
Unfortunately for him, Vox could keep this going for so much longer.
Soft as a breeze, Vox’s hand trailed up from Alastor’s hip. It fluttered around his belly, then continued drifting higher. He made a detour to ghost up and down Alastor’s ribs, so lightly it only just shifted the fur out of place and didn’t even touch his skin.
Alastor still squirmed. His face tightened, like he was trying to resist it, but even as exhausted as he must have been he couldn’t seem to fight the urge to get away.
Vox didn’t stay there for too long. His hand slid over Alastor’s chest. A single claw drew a line through the peak of fur on his sternum, skipped over the wound, then went higher still. He traced Alastor’s prominent collarbones, back and forth, from one shoulder to the other. It was almost a chase, because Alastor’s shoulders were free to wiggle much more than the rest of his body. Though, the tiny amount of movement they had wasn’t by any means generous. Vox’s hand resumed its path and traced small swirls up Alastor’s throat, which got Alastor to attempt to tuck his head down. Vox’s grip on his face held strong. Finally, Vox’s hand came to rest with the other on Alastor’s jaw. Both thumbs rubbed circles into Alastor’s damp cheeks while his fingers wrapped around to settle at the back of Alastor’s neck.
Heavy, red eyes bore into Vox’s. They were tired and wet but still showed an impressive indignation. It was honestly unsettling. Alastor still somehow had enough fight left in him to look only mildly annoyed instead of broken, even as he shivered in his seat, bathed in uneven, lilting static.
“I have to give it to you, Alastor,” Vox grit out, narrowing his eyes. “Your constitution is fucking unnatural.”
There was the subtlest upward flick of Alastor’s eyes, like he was holding back rolling his eyes. Out of a crackle of static came a muffled, weak, trickle of applause.
“What? Is that supposed to mean something?”
Alastor’s jaw shifted. He continued to stare.
“Whatever,” Vox grumbled. “I’m gonna stamp out that attitude out sooner or later. You can’t take this forever.”
One of Vox’s hands gathered the short, surprisingly soft hairs at the nape of Alastor’s neck and pulled. His other roamed a little higher, carding through slightly sweaty red hair at the crown of Alastor’s head with a fair amount of tension.
It was a surprise to Vox when, as he ran his claws along Alastor’s scalp and reached closer to Alastor’s pinned ears, one of them flicked away.
“Oh?”
He grabbed the tip of that ear. It jerked out of his hand. A giggle built in Vox’s chest, but he stuffed it down. He sunk his claws into the base of Alastor’s ear. It could still shift around, but he was low enough that he didn’t have to chase it too far. His fingers curled inward.
Alastor ripped his head away with enough force that he actually managed to dislodge Vox’s hands. He glared at the floor, ears still twitching.
“How cute.” Vox was on a roll with hitting all of Alastor’s best spots.
He didn’t replace his hands just yet. Instead, he stood and walked around Alastor to stand behind him.
Alastor’s head didn’t move. His eyes didn’t leave the floor. But now that Vox was paying attention, he saw the subtle shifts in Alastor’s ears. They angled and twisted with each of Vox’s steps, following his location.
Vox wondered if they did that on their own, or if Alastor was purposefully teasing him.
Vox braced one hand on the back of the chair and with the other, grabbed one of Alastor’s antlers. It was small enough that with just two fingers, one hooked around each prong, he had enough leverage to yank.
Alastor’s head was pulled back far enough for him to be looking up at Vox. A sway of feedback played, whistled eerily, off tune, like wind through empty branches in a dark forest.
Vox could see, peering over Alastor’s chin, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He was drawn to it. Reaching over Alastor’s shoulder, he dug the tip of his sharp claw into the lump. It wasn’t to tickle, this time. He was pressing hard enough to hurt.
“Alastor. My prisoner. The lowest of the low.” His voice was softer than he expected. Focused, but not on his actual words.
If he pressed hard enough, he could make Alastor bleed. He could watch as red dripped down his throat. He could watch Alastor choke on it helplessly. It would be so easy. He should want to, but for some reason he didn’t think he did.
His eyes fell to Alastor’s wound and the pathetic stitching barely holding it together. Then back to his face.
To Alastor’s credit, his expression showed no signs of reaction. He maintained eye contact. He didn’t struggle. But Vox could feel the swallow he took, which pushed his larynx further into his claw. It seemed purposeful, somehow. The static rose in pitch before dropping most of its weight to give way to an echoing, ticking clock.
Heat swelled in Vox’s stomach, and he had to turn his internal cooling fans up.
Vox applied more force. There was a small, needle-point crater formed from the pressure. Slowly, he slid his finger to the side, catching it on the ridge of Alastor’s jugular and leaving a small abrasion in his skin. It wasn’t deep enough to bleed, but it faded from a light grey to a deep pink in the most satisfying way.
His claw continued to roam Alastor’s taught throat, which kept Alastor’s attention. Vox let it drift without thought while he took a look at the cables wrapped around the back of the chair. He considered the best angle for a couple of seconds before he summoned two more wires. They snapped up and wrapped around Alastor’s antlers so Vox could free his hand.
Alastor’s antlers were incredibly convenient anchor points to hold his head still. It was a shame more sinners didn’t have them, or else he’d bring the idea of an antler bondage line to Valentino. They would sell out so quickly. Alastor could be on the advertisement.
Vox shooed the thought away as quickly as it came.
With both hands free, Vox wasted no more time in grabbing Alastor’s ear tightly to hold it still. It shuttered uselessly in his grip. Immense satisfaction washed over Vox.
He met Alastor’s eyes, which narrowed. Vox knew his screen was all shit-eating smile. It was extremely appropriate, in his opinion, given the circumstances.
Vox’s other hand came up and scratched along the outer edge of Alastor’s ear.
Immediately, Alastor’s ear tensed and his head jerked as much as it was able to, which is to say not all. There was a sharp intake of air through his nose. Perfect.
Vox didn’t expect the heat that spread through the soft, velvety fur. Black and red strands parted, giving way to his fingers and enveloping them in warmth.
If Vox pretended this was under different circumstances, it seemed all too domestic. Fleeting looks shared between friends. Gentle touches lingering a little longer than they should. A shell of a memory gone by. He’d never had it with Alastor when he wanted it, but in this moment he missed it all the same. Empty longing was too familiar a feeling.
He was happily dragged out of that train of thought when his eyes met Alastor’s, filled with so much hatred. They were literally dripping with disgust. Every stroke of Vox’s fingers on his ears made them tighten.
It was better this way. More true. Vox didn’t want to have the made up image of Alastor looking at him with anything akin to affection burned into his memory bank anymore.
He dug his claws into Alastor’s ear and tugged it aggressively. The muscles in Alastor’s throat shifted and his eyebrows furrowed deeper.
Vox lifted one hand from Alastor’s ear and ran his finger along the edge of his gag, before slipping his claw under and finally pulling it down.
There wasn’t even a beat to breathe before Alastor tried to bite his hand. It was easy to avoid, with Alastor’s head immobilized.
Alastor let out a heavy chuckle. It was wet and dry at the same time. “Forgive me.” His voice was the most raw Vox had ever heard it. “You can hardly blame a fish for swimming.”
“Or a bitch from biting,” Vox countered flatly.
Another laugh caught behind Alastor’s teeth. It cut off into silence when Vox pulled his ear again. The edges of Alastor’s mouth curled up, revealing his black gums.
Vox’s hand resumed its position on the edge of Alastor’s ear, brushing lightly against the fur. He watched Alastor’s expression closely.
A small gasp was let out before Alastor could catch it, but after a second his lips pressed tightly together.
“What’s the matter, Al? Nothing to say?”
Alastor’s eyebrows fell and he peered up at Vox through slitted eyes. “What, do you want critiques?” The words were stilted and squeaky, like they took effort to force out.
“Please, be my guest.”
Vox waited until Alastor opened his mouth again to quickly dart his hands down and latch on to his sides.
Whatever Alastor was about to say died on his tongue. He clamped his teeth together, but it wasn’t enough to stifle the short, high pitched cry as his arms pressed inward.
“Sorry, what?”
Apparently, Alastor was already too worn out to resist any more than that, because after only a few more seconds loud laughter poured out unceremoniously. The sound was jagged. Rough.
As far as Vox was concerned the noise was the symphony of his success.
He didn’t stay on the spot for long. He would savor that laughter soon, but for now he gathered all of his quickly draining will power to continue his game. Toe the line of Alastor breaking, step over for just long enough to shed him of his superiority, then inch back and make him wallow in the pieces of his broken mask.
His hands pulled away and reappeared on Alastor’s ears in one motion. He curled his fingers under the muscles at the bases, close to his skull.
Roaring laughter filtered down to sparse, pattered giggling. It was almost sweet, the way the pitch rose and fell in time with Alastor’s resistant pulls on the wires holding his antlers.
“You hahave me as your- ngh- your wihilling prisoner,” Alastor said through strained mirth and crackling interference. “And yet, you cahaha- cahan’t bring yourself to- ahaha- inflict anything r-real upon me.”
Somehow, in a way Vox would be impressed by if it wasn’t pissing him off, Alastor managed to sound exceptionally condescending. Even with laughter dancing around his words, pulling his voice tight, he found a way to wiggle under Vox’s ego and pry it up like a crow bar on a loose panel.
“This is real, alright,” Vox reassured, tongue coated in a bitter lining.
He angled his fingers just so, and almost didn’t catch the way Alastor’s head leaned into them—at least, into the wires—with a shiver. His eyelids fluttered, his throat bobbed, and his lips curled into his teeth, stifling what would have been one of the prettiest gasps Vox had ever heard.
Vox smirked. “At least, these reactions would make someone think so.”
“I-“
Vox cut him off immediately by hitting the exact same spot. Whatever retort Alastor was about to give died on the spot, becoming nothing but a sharp wind sucked in through his clenched teeth.
This was nice. Who needed a gag, anyway? It was so easy to keep Alastor silenced through his fingers alone.
“Hm?”
Alastor tried again. “I can- can- Ah-!”
The same spot, once more. The cry that tumbled out of Alastor’s lips ignited a fire somewhere inside of Vox. When Alastor’s eyes peeled open, falling onto Vox’s screen—so well illuminated—his pupils were blown wide.
Holy shit.
Holy fucking fuck.
God damn.
God in heaven.
Alastor’s eyes flicked to the floor, brows raised. Whatever he found there made him chuckle.
Vox’s body refused to move.
The rattling sound of a crash cymbal invaded the room. It bounced off the walls to settle into the buzz of static, and directly into Vox’s spine.
Vox blinked. Alastor blinked back. His eyes glanced at the floor again, with much more difficulty than Vox had noticed the first time—what, with the angle and all. Alastor’s shadow, looming large by their feet, didn’t blink. It stared, unashamed, mouth agape in an upward curve.
Vox’s hands, which he was just becoming aware of again, had been cupping Alastor’s ears like a pair of sick baby birds, gentle and still. Vox pulled them back like he’d been burned.
“Welcome back,” Alastor chirped pleasantly. “Have a nice time away?”
“Oh, you absolute piece of shit!”
His hands quickly found Alastor’s ribs again and dug forcefully into the pronounced ridges. Each finger found a spot in one of the valleys and his thumbs, shifting under the loose fabric, wrapped around to press into Alastor’s spine.
Mad cackling exploded out of Alastor in an instant. It was so loud, so forceful, and so sudden that whatever phantom speakers Alastor operated through buzzed in aggravation, threatening to blow out. Vox could feel with his hands this time the way Alastor’s shoulder blades pinched together, and it felt so much nicer then than it had through the wires. Still, Vox didn’t take the frantic, rocking tugs at Alastor’s shoulders and thighs for granted.
Vox had to get a better hold on himself. He couldn’t believe he’d short circuited twice. If he kept losing his shit every time Alastor made a satisfying noise, or lingered in his mind too strongly, how was he supposed to enjoy this?
Oh, but Alastor seemed to enjoy it plenty. Granted, he’d been pretty distracted the first time, but just now Alastor was entirely too satisfied to watch Vox glitch out.
Of course, now he was beside himself, almost screaming in laughter, so it’s not like that satisfaction was long-lived. It was almost worth it to watch his pleased grin snap away in a second and morph into hysteria. Still, Vox assured himself he wouldn’t lose focus again.
When Alastor’s laughter started breaking into shrill squeaks of lost air, and tears prickled at the corners of his eyes again, Vox let up. Naturally, his hands took their spot atop Alastor’s head.
Without a second to breathe in between, the last of Alastor’s wailing trickled into wet tittering. He was so focused on getting air he had no hope of muffling the whining noises Vox’s attention to his ears ripped from his throat. His lungs trembled as they heaved. Vox could see his sternum rising and falling with a considerable amount of effort.
A single tear fell, leaving a trail along his cheekbone before slipping away to disappear into his hair.
Vox brushed a finger along the trail to rub it away. In time with a bursting elk call playing in the air, Alastor snapped his teeth at him, and he quickly yanked his hand away and placed it right back on his ear. He shot Alastor an unimpressed look.
“I know, I know. A fish and his swimming, yada yada, blah-blah-blah.”
“A behehe- mmh- bit- aha!” Alastor shut his eyes and took a long, shaky breath in through his nose. His ear gave a particularly vigorous—though overall useless—flick as his eyes opened and he set them on Vox. “A bihitch-! From- ah- from-mm, eheh, bihitihing.”
Vox found a genuine smile worming its way onto his screen. Not quite sadistic, just comfortable. He didn’t know if it was from Alastor actually calling back to his stupid joke, or the fact that it took so much effort for him to do so. It was endearing, as much as he would rather rip off his own arm than admit it, the way Alastor seemed so unbothered by his own laughter, except for the fact that it made it harder to deliver the punchline. Alastor was, and always had been, an entertainer first and foremost, after all.
Ugh, it was disgusting. He bit back the grin and lowered his eyebrows, hoping to give off annoyance instead.
Through his pathetic, whimpering giggles, Alastor’s eyes still crinkled at the edges in a way that told Vox he hadn’t put his expression in check quick enough.
“Whatever,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes. “A bitch from biting, yes, I’m so hilarious. Now laugh.”
And Alastor did. His stomach was the next target.
The chair rolled back and hit Vox’s chest, which just allowed him more leverage to grab at the exposed skin and fur. Grey strands entangled themselves in his claws as he scratched around the area.
It was so reccessed—and Vox knew, of course, sinner biology was incredibly varied. Some had more body parts, some had less, completely different shapes and sizes, and systems that worked in ways he couldn’t even comprehend.
He, himself, was a shining example: half electronic, half organic, no clear distinction of which was where, and also he was kind of, sort of, vaguely aquatic. Not to mention his computer of a brain which confused anyone he tried to explain it to. It’s not like he understood how Velvette’s joints stuck together or how, exactly, Valentino’s pink smoke situation worked.
But the sinner that confused him the most had always been Alastor, from his freaky sound effects to his even freakier shadow. He was deceptively human on the outside yet had countless supernatural systems in place underneath.
And now, as he pressed his fingers into his hollow belly, he wondered if Alastor had any organs at all. He wondered if Alastor even knew himself. He wondered how easy it would be to get the answer and slice him open right now with his claws. He wondered how warm the blood would be as it seeped into his hands.
He wondered if Alastor had any idea where his train of thought was leading him to, or if he was too lost in his shrieking and squirming to even consider.
That shrieking and squirming was getting exceptionally desperate, actually. His eyes were scrunched tight but his face was wet again. He was interrupting his own cacophony of laughter with sharp hiccups, which he nearly choked on. Vox found that less entrancing than he expected to.
It seemed all at once that a sheet of indifference fell over Vox. He kept tickling fervently, but he watched Alastor with something akin to boredom. Maybe it was so far into boredom that it turned to repulsion.
A pinch here. A squeeze there. His movements were getting mechanical. And Alastor’s laughter was getting grating. Both on Vox’s audio receivers and Alastor’s throat, it seemed, because it was starting to creak. It sounded like it was scratching painfully.
Vox kept going.
Somehow, Alastor was hardly resisting his wires anymore, except for his chest which pushed out against them with all it had. Alastor was running out of oxygen, then.
He kept going, still.
The gasping hiccups got more and more frequent, until they overtook him entirely and all that was coming out was a whistling plea for breath, interspersed with silence. Vox didn’t remember when the static cut out, but the room was completely void of it.
And still, he didn’t relent.
Alastor’s face was going red, which Vox had never seen from him before. His mouth hung open like a newborn baby, yet to properly cry, though tears were streaming down his face like the rolling waves of the ocean.
His bottom lip tucked briefly into his top teeth before popping back out silently. He just barely managed to drag in a breath before his lip did it again. It wasn’t until the third time that Vox heard a soft ‘ksss’ hissed behind the motion.
His eyebrows pulled together and he slowed his hands a fraction to listen.
Literal bells and whistles rang out. “V-“ A gasp. “V-“ A hiccup. “V- -x!”
Vox wasn’t even sure it was on purpose, when his hands let go. He was just taken so off guard when he realized Alastor was trying to say his name. He wasn’t sure why he was so shocked. What else was Alastor supposed to say? Still, it was the closest to begging for mercy possibly anyone had ever gotten from the Radio Demon.
And just like that, the sheet of indifference floated away, and Vox was sure it was impossible to be more smug than he was now.
“Oh, me? Who were you calling for? Me? Just little old me? Begging for me to save your pathetic ass? ‘Vox, pretty, pretty please stop tickling me, I can’t take it! Vooox! Oh, it just tickles soooo much, Vox!’”
In Vox’s opinion, his Alastor impression was pretty good. This, however, was a whiny, muppetized, bastardized version of it and nowhere close to Alastor’s voice. If he was a being of higher dignity it would have even been embarrassing, but luckily for him he was used to acting like a fool in front of people. Also, he was riding the high of Alastor calling out his name like it was the last thing he’d ever do, so he didn’t think he had it in him to be slightly shameful of anything at all for the rest of the day.
Unfortunately, Alastor was too busy hyperventilating to even pay attention to his gloating. With whatever dull haze that overtook him completely washed away, Vox could genuinely appreciate the state Alastor was in.
His face was losing its color quite quickly, fading back to its usual grey with every gasping breath he took. Vox was drinking up the tug of the wires every time Alastor’s chest convulsed with a hiccup and—yeah—it didn’t seem like those were stopping anytime soon. Alastor’s tears had run down the sides of his jawline, and up into his hair, which was almost completely soaked with sweat as well. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
Vox was not one to show mercy, but he didn’t mind spending a couple of minutes letting Alastor recuperate. It’s not like he wasn’t enjoying watching.
Slowly, Alastor’s breathing steadied. At least, as much as it could with the (frankly, hilarious) hiccups slipping out every once in a while. At last, Alastor’s gaze shifted back to Vox.
“Welcome back,” Vox chirped pleasantly. “Have a nice time away?”
Alastor rolled his eyes, but his smile widened. With a click, the static roared back to life.
“Whahat a wa-hicc-waste.” Alastor’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, dearie me! Pardon my-hicc-my, well, that. How- ahaha! How unbecoming!”
Vox stared. Only Alastor, fucking Alastor, could somehow make hiccuping seem like an insult to him. And to top it off, he managed to wrap in his own giggling—which, by the way, Vox knew was involuntary—and twist it so Alastor was giggling at him instead! If after all of that, Alastor was still the most prissy, attitude riddled wretch in the Nine Circles, there really was just no helping his case.
“It’s a waste, by the way,” Alastor continued. “Because you wehere so-hicc-! Mhm.” He took a breath. “So close to making it real. So close to actually- ehehe- achieving something. Why, I believe I was seeing stars towards the end there! Hahaha! And yet.” The static popped and crackled and coated his words. If Vox had to guess, that was his substitute for not being able to gesture with his hands.
“I-! I’m not-! I ca- I- What? What are you even talking about!?” God damn it, how is Alastor the one making him stutter like a fucking mess? “That was real! It was fucking real, what do you mean!?”
Canned laughter, dancing all around him, bit him with daggered teeth.
“I’ve laughed harder than that over a cup of t-hicc-tea and good gossip with Zestial, I’m afraid.” The studio laughter morphed into a collective ‘Aww’ that dripped like honey down the walls.
“Zestial!?” Surely Alastor was saying that just to get under his skin. Zestial, that old slab of dust, had cobwebs where his sense of humor should be. Not to mention, he’s never been known to make social calls. “You’re lying, obviously. I don’t even care.”
He fluttered his claws under Alastor’s jaw.
“Ha,” Alastor said dryly, though it was immediately clear real laughter was starting to bubble up in his chest again. “I’m hurt. You really make me out to be a liar?” The end of his sentence pitched up, and his shoulders shook in a way that wouldn’t fool anyone.
“Just shut up already,” Vox grit out. “You called my name, like the little bitch you are, and begged and begged for mercy, so don’t pretend to be disappointed that you didn’t suffocate!”
“It was a disappointment,” Alastor sighed wistfully, though the effect was sullied when a bark of laughter slipped out. “Better- ahaha- better luck next tehe- time, I -hicc- suppose!”
Vox wasn’t oblivious to what was going on here. He wished he could say Alastor was easy to read, but even after all these years, he wasn’t. Still, Alastor was obviously trying to get him riled up.
To what end, though? Surely he realized poking the bear would end up with him in tears, laughing so hard he can’t breathe. There was no way that was actually what Alastor wanted, no matter how much he pretended to be unaffected. So clearly, it was about avoiding something worse, then. What was it?
His hands inched up again. They booped his nose on their way, quickly, already expecting the snapping teeth. They reached Alastor’s ears.
It wasn’t even a gasp, this time. It was more like a bone weary sigh.
“Something wrong?” Vox asked.
It doesn’t manage to actually move, but Vox could feel the sentiment of a shaken head with the alternating pulses of strain from each antler. “No, no, nothing at all.” And Alastor was just doing it for the bit; his tone didn’t actually try to hide his disdain. Not that it mattered, because Vox was just going to do it anyway, and Alastor knew that. “Carry oN-!”
Alastor hit quite the impressive high note when Vox interrupted him to press his fingers into the increasingly familiar spot. He was getting rather skilled at working the controls after all this time.
“Is this what you were avoiding? Why?” It was mostly mumbled to himself in contemplation. It’s understandable, Vox supposed, that someone like Alastor would find touch nearer to his face to be less bearable than somewhere else, even if it tickled less.
Though, Vox pondered if it actually did tickle less. He certainly got more reactions out of Alastor by just ghosting contact over his ears than he did with any spot on his torso. It was only when he dug in with some force that he got a true rise out of Alastor–more than helpless wiggling, anyway. With his ears, though, a firmer touch didn’t send Alastor into hysterics in the same way. It just sort of… Disrupted him. So when he did this…
“Mhmgh!”
And when he did that…
“Agh-!”
When he curved his fingers like so…
“Unnh...!”
Vox willed his system not to overheat. The noises were becoming downright lewd.
A quick glance to Alastor’s rattled expression told Vox that Alastor was hearing it too.
Vox was like, ninety percent sure that Alastor wasn’t actually getting all hot bothered about it, but the vocalizations came out all the same.
He leaned down, putting his screen just an inch or two from Alastor’s ear.
“What, is it getting t-t-to you, Al?” He kept his voice low and smooth. It would have been so effective if his voice didn’t glitch.
Once again, Alastor broke off into a trail of giggling. “To mehehe? You seheem a-ahaha- little worse- mnmh- worse for wear y-yourself.”
The soft rumble of electricity polluted the air like ink in water. The fur on the tips of Alastor’s ears stood on end.
“If you’re- ahaha! Ngh-! G-going to… to- mhmn.” Alastor’s lips pressed together to quiet the laughter and what could only be described as moans. Vox could feel the shiver that ran down Alastor’s body.
“Aw, keep trying. You’ll get it out eventually.”
Whatever playful edge Alastor had in his eyes disappeared and was immediately replaced by a grimace. If Vox didn’t know any better he’d say Alastor actually looked flustered. There was a snap of aggressive feedback.
Then, Alastor’s eyes drooped and roamed around Vox’s screen hungrily. “Vox,” he gasped, soft and sweet.
Heat. “Wha- uh, huh?”
“Vox. Mm, oh, Vox.” It was almost like a song.
There was a sudden pressure in Vox’s chest that bursted in all directions. Down to his stomach, where it twisted and turned. Up his throat and into his head.
“Ahah- V-Vox…”
A stinging buzz of frying wires, and Vox was cut off from the world.
In what felt to him like less than a second, he was back online, though still much too warm. He found himself kneeling on the floor.
Alastor was still in the chair, immobilized. But he was looking down at Vox with condescension nestled deep into his eyes.
“Welcome back,” he chirped pleasantly. Except, this time, it was so much more contemptful. “You’re as predictable as always. And disgusting." A hiccup punctuated the end of his words, but somehow it, too, leaked of disapproval.
“You- you- I- uh.” He simply couldn’t find the words.
Alastor’s eye twitched. His brow raised.
“Fuck off,” Vox finally grit out. He stood and brushed himself off. “I’m done with this.”
All of the wires, except for the original ones over Alastor’s arms and chest, slid back into their pocket dimension.
Suddenly slack, Alastor’s head fell forward, but he quickly righted it and began rolling it side to side, stretching out his neck. His legs, too, kicked and worked their muscles for a second before one crossed over the other politely.
“Well, every good host knows when to call it a night! Haha!”
Vox couldn’t fathom how Alastor still had the energy to put all that fake cheer into his voice. He roughly gripped Alastor’s face and shoved the gag back into place. “It’s time you shut the fuck up.”
Alastor stared at him, unblinking.
With a deep sigh, Vox turned away and walked out of the room. He shut off the lights with his mental control panel a second later.
---
"Welcome back," the Absolute Loser of a Man chirped pleasantly. "Have a nice time away?"
This was originally intended to be around 4k. There was a specific image I had in mind, that was the entire reason for me writing this in the first place, and I didn't even get to it until over 5k words in. It's 24 pages on Docs. Oopsies.
It's also, unsurprisingly, difficult to write anything engaging in limited perspective when the non-pov character can't move or talk and there's nothing to bounce off of. I put a lot of thought into how Alastor would express things in the very limited manners he still could, and how Vox would percieve it all on his end. Everything is filtered through Vox's eyes, and Vox is a delightfully unreliable narrator.
Unfortunately, that means the readers aren't privy to Alastor's inner commentary, which is absolutely hilarious. I thought about explaining some of his thoughts and actions here, but then I had the idea to completely rewrite this fic, beat for beat, but from Alastor's perspective instead. Let me know if that's something you would be interested in! He's such a little shit I can't even lie.
Besides that, Vox's thoughts and observations are obviously very clouded in bias. For example, Alastor's shadow is much more expressive than this fic implies, simply because Vox doesn't think to look unless Alastor brings his attention to it. Instead, he's actually more aware of Alastor's sound effects than I think the average person would be, because of their history but moreso because he's intune with electronics, radios, etc and he has some similar tells.
He's dealing with extremely mixed emotions which give him whiplash as they drag him around, which is why one second he doesn't even want to hurt Alastor and the next he's basically drooling over the idea. There's absolutely implied RadioSilence, or even RadioStatic, but it is extremely toxic and not meant to be taken as an example in any way shape or form. As much as Vox is obsessed and in love with Alastor, he genuinely hates him too.
Thanks for making it this far, and reading my rambling if you did that! Let me know if you liked this fic, it would absolutely make my day!
A/N: My first fanfic for something other than squid game! Woah!! I’m currently on holiday right now so I kept this in my drafts before I got on the plane so I could work on it at the hotel! Yipeee!
I really love the bully/bullied trope in tickle content so I thought Jax and Gangle would be perfect for my style of writing. I wasn’t sure at first how tickling Gangle would work so I had to get creative!
This also isn’t really as intense or as long as my other fics because I’m not used to writing these characters and really did just want to get it out there and test the waters! But it does explore some character development I guess? ANYWAY Enjoy!
Summary: Jax is curious about how Gangle’s ribbons work- but just asking isn’t quite enough. He needs to get close and personal.
————————————————
‘so, how do your ribbons work, anyway?’
Gangle, from where she was curled up on one of the open-space sofas, jumped with a squeak. She only just managed to grab her sketchpad before it fell to the floor.
‘Jax!’ She exclaimed, hugging the pad to her chest protectively. ‘Y-you scared me…’
Jax scoffed and leant over the back of the sofa, cocking his head. ‘Everythin’ scares you, Gangers, nothin’ new there’
Gangle shifted away and tried to glare, although it fell pitifully flat, what with her sad mask plastered on her face. If anything, she just came across…pathetic. ‘Don’t…don’t call me that’ she inched back even further, trying to create distance.
She knew, really, that the best course of action would be to get up and simply walk away; but her meek and down-trodden demeanour held her back. Not to mention she was terrified of what monstrosities Jax could be capable of if provoked.
The most she could manage was yet another awkward shuffle. Her ribbons curved around the armrest of the sofa and suddenly, there was nowhere else to go.
The claustrophobic feeling was exacerbated by the fact that with every flinch or attempt to curl back, that purple menace would hover juuuust a little more. His smirk grew and his eyes narrowed as he got closer…
And closer.
And closer.
And-
‘What do you want?!’ Gangle couldn’t take the tension a second more, already an anxious personality as is, never mind with Jax in the mix. It wasn’t a secret that he got some kind of…rush? Thrill? From tormenting her any chance he got. Zooble, bless her, would usually step in, but- Zooble wasn’t here right now.
Nobody was. They’d been called to one of Caine’s wacky adventures, and usually Gangle would join, but after hearing some fast-paced nonsense revolving around ‘man-eating puppies’ and ‘cavernous lairs’, she very quickly opted out.
She hadn’t expected her tormentor to opt out too. He probably only did it to get her alone. Bastard.
‘What, I can’t just wanna hang out? Why do I gotta want something?’ Jax’s shit eating grin expanded cartoonishly wide and he rested his cheek in his hand. ‘Gosh, Gangle. You’re soooo paranoid’
‘I have ev-every right to be’ A small attempt at assertiveness that held no weight behind it with how Gangle drew up her knees and hugged her sketchpad tighter.
Jax suddenly vaulted over the backrest and landed surprisingly gracefully on the cushions next to her, practically looming over her shaking frame. ‘Yeah, yeah, whatever’ He sighed and dismissed her statement with a wave of a hand.
‘Look- I know what you’re thinkin’’ His other arm, draped over his knee, raised slightly and he waved both hands whilst putting on a (rather grating) falsetto. ‘Oh nooo, here’s Jax, coming to use me as a kite again’. He dropped the mocking act to point at her with a smile, ‘which, by the way, was very funny’, before jumping right back into the mimicry. He used one hand to form a ‘sock puppet’ shape and spoke through it- ‘And may I add just how good-looking he is!’.
He let out an obnoxious ‘HA!’ at his own joke, slapping a knee. ‘Wow! Thanks, Gangle! I had no idea you felt like that!’
Gangle had been watching the display with sheer bafflement. ‘…I…I don’t sound like that’.
What else was she supposed to say? This was probably the longest she’d been in such close vicinity with the rabbit without being tied into knots, or threaded down a drain, or being forced to chase after him to get her comedy mask back.
‘Uh, yeah, you totally do’
‘I do not!’
‘’I do not!’’ He mimicked again, flapping his hand. ‘That’s you’.
‘Anyway! As I- or, rather, you- were sayin’’ he put both hands under his chin, crossed his legs and hunched forward. ‘I’m not here to fuck with you this time. I just wanna chat, y’know?’.
Gangle blinked and squinted at him suspiciously. She tilted her head like she couldn’t quite understand. For a moment her and Jax just stared at each other. She hated how relaxed he looked. How smug. Resentment needled under her skin that her bully got to walk around so at ease whilst she lived in the fear he put her in.
So, excuse the fuck out of her if she didn’t quite believe he’d just popped over for ‘a chat’.
‘…A chat about what?’
‘Well, more a question than anythin’ else’
‘Okay, fine, a-a question about what?’
Jax rolled his eyes, laughing in disbelief as if she had said something wildly socially unacceptable. ‘Oh my god, Gangers! I literally said before!’ He leant impossibly closer. Hunched so dramatically that Gangle could see the very top curve of his spine. His hands under his chin interlocked fingers and he gave a look that was anything but friendly. ‘How do your ribbons work?’
The theatre character took a few beats to remember that Jax had, in fact, asked that at the very start. It wasn’t her fault it slipped her mind; being in fight or flight mode tends to loosen the ol’ short term memory.
‘O-oh, yeah. Right’ she unhooked one slender ribbon-arm from around her sketchpad and held it in front of her. She waved it and the two circus members watched as the dainty-looking material flowed and snaked in the air. Gangle pulled her eyes away from it and instead to Jax, who’s intense stare made her more than a little self conscious.
Wrapping the arm back around her sketchpad, she cleared her throat softly and looked away.
‘So, uh- what is it you wanted to know? Exactly?’
Jax blinked out of the trance the ribbon had put him in. Quickly adorned his face with that same cocky expression, just in case Gangle had thought him a bit too interested.
‘Well, y’know- how they work’ He gestured at Gangle’s frame with both hands, like his bizarre question should’ve been answered ten minutes ago and this was all a very strenuous waste of his time. ‘Like, how do you even move? Circus logic, or ya think there’s gross cartilage in there? Real flat? Oh- D’ya feel when the breeze lifts under them? Can you even feel at all, or do you just guess and act accordingly? Would ya want even more so you could be some kind of f<BOING>d-up ribbon octopus? If I cut you in two, would you become two Gangles? Like a worm?’
Gangle tried to keep up but the questions kept coming, ridiculous and honestly kind of uncomfortable in their abnormal nature. She wanted to ask what the fuck went through Jax’s head for him to even think about cutting her up and seeing if she ‘multiplies’, but something told her that would be the worst thing to do right now. Instead she looked around like assistance would spawn out of nowhere, (not an usual event with the cartoonish Circus logic, honestly), but nothing did.
God, how long was this adventure?! There wasn’t necessarily a concept of time in the Circus, excluding some strange clock-like structure Caine set up in one of the long hallways to ‘appease the humans and their weird fascination with getting old’- completely obsolete, given the whole point of the Circus was that there was no permanent pain, aging or death.
But regardless! This definitely felt a lot longer than usual adventures. Surely the gang should be back by now?!
‘Jax, I-’
‘Wait, hell, I can’t believe I never tried this!’ Without any warning, Jax shot a hand forward.
Into the nests of Gangle’s ribbons.
It was a feeling like no other. Gangle shrieked with surprise and the sketchpad went flying. Her legs reflexively kicked out at the intrusion, and looking down, she saw with horror- Jax’s gloved hand inside her middle.
It made sense that it could happen- she didn’t exactly have a solid body. Her ribbons simply spooled downwards. No organs or insides or even skin. It was almost akin to the trope of putting an arm or leg through a ghost.
But that didn’t mean it should happen!
Especially not when it felt like…like…
‘Jahahax!!’ An alarmed giggle left her mask before she had chance to stop it. Jax was grabbing at the ribbon on the other side, scrunching in handfuls, far too close for comfort when his ears momentarily stood stiff and he shot his head upright to stare Gangle right in the face. Gangle had one hand over her mouth like she was shocked such a noise came from her.
They were practically nose to nose.
‘The f<SQUEAK>k was that noise?’
Gangle just shook her head.
Jax slowly looked down at his hand, still grabbing a fistful of ribbon, and gave it a light squeeze.
Gangle jolted and muffled a panicked laugh into her hand. ‘Mmmph! No! Nohoho!’
Her other arm came to push at Jax’s chest.
The rabbit stared down at his fist in disbelief. His eyes slowly made their way back up to Gangle’s, and the Theatre-esque character felt her heart drop when a wonky smile grew on Jax’s face. His eyebrows rose and he snorted.
‘Ha- haha! No way! Nooo WAY!’ He fell into giddy tittering, little ‘heehee!’’s spilling out between words. ‘You’re f<BOING>in’ ticklish?!’
Gangle pushed with renewed vigour, using her other hand now for more leverage. This was bad. This was the worst.
This was possibly the bad-worst-awful’est thing that had ever happened to her in all her years of being prisoner in the Circus. All she knew is she had to get away right the hell now, or she’d be in for a very unpleasant time.
‘No! I-I’m not!’ A few cartoonish sweat beads appeared on her forehead when Jax gave a ‘mmhmm’ with half-lidded eyes. His cocky grin said it all. ‘It hurts! That’s all! You’re literally grabbing my- my skin! Of course it hurts!’
The fist grabbing the ribbons didn’t move. Jax positioned himself slowly, using his free hand on Gangle’s shoulder to stabilise himself so that his knees were caging her between himself and the armrest. ‘Yeahhh, I bet it hurts. That why you giggled like an embarrassed schoolkid? Because it hurt? Gangle got an ouchie?’
Ugh, he was insufferable.
Gangle breathed hard and gave a nervous smile. She could feel Jax’s hand pull at the ribbons again and again, too light to induce laughter, but enough that each time triggered a horrible ticklish tremor.
This was just her luck. Of course Jax would find this out. Heck, this was her first time finding out too! She hadn’t even been tickled much back in her human body, never-mind this warped digital hellscape.
‘I-I’m serious, Jax! You’ve had your fun, okay?’ Her voice wobbled, the anxious smile having become an involuntary real one from the tiny ticklish shocks that Jax kept pulling from her. Literally and figuratively.
Jax chuckled lowly, the hand on Gangle’s shoulder snaking in-between the coils and taking the egde of a ribbon between thumb and finger. He rubbed it in light pinching motions and Gangle fell into high pitched giggling. The fist holding a handful of ribbon let go, only to join the other and pinch along the length of a coil where a human body’s waist would be.
The pinching tickles were awful. Sharp and tingly, impossible to ignore or tune out. She couldn’t even pretend it hurt now, arms flailing uselessly and helpless to stop her laughter.
‘EEK!’ She kicked out and tried to roll away but Jax’s knees were braced on either side, and the armrest behind her wasn’t about to flicker out of existence. She was well and truly trapped. ‘St-stohohoHOHOHOP! STOPPIT! AHahahHEHEHE!’
‘So, on with the questions’ Jax continued casually, tapping the fingers of one hand up and down a length of ribbon that coiled from her middle to her neck. His other hand came down to where her ‘hips’ would be, alternating cruel little pinches between each sides, maddening in the way that was impossible to adjust to.
‘Ohhh, c’mon, weepy. If ya answer ‘em, I’ll stop. Scout’s honour’
Gangle could hardly think straight, but the promise of this torment stopping was enough. ‘FINE! FIHIhihIHINE!’
‘Didja know y’were so, stupidly ticklish?’
Gangle could feel her face get even hotter. It’s like Jax knew the exact question to ask to get her melting from fluster. Why her?! What did she do to deserve this?!
‘STOHOHOHOP! PLEAHAHAHASE!’
‘Didn’t answer my question, pal!’
‘HihihIHIHIHI!’
Her ribbons fluttered and flailed with no direction before trying to wrap around Jax’s upper arms, pushing as hard as she could. Jax couldn’t help but think the ribbons were somewhat captivating. The way the light bounced off them, the different hues of red that flashed with each desperate movement. He’d never been a particularly huge fan of art or ‘the finer things’ whilst in the Circus- instead, focusing on deluding himself into believing none of this was real and taking to mischief and violence- but this was new.
He’d never tickled a Circus resident before, so he never really ‘took them in’, as nonsensical as it sounded. A punch, a shove, a push into a hole or equally unappealing crevice- none of the physical contact he made with the other members required a specific focus. It was simply a matter of ‘see victim’, ‘assault victim’, ‘walk off’.
This was different. From this angle, and spending such a duration up close, he really could appreciate how fascinating those ribbons were. They felt soft but firm, and surprisingly strong for what they were.
Gangle, meanwhile, was laughing harder than she had in…probably her entire time at the Circus. She could hardly wrap her head (her mask?) around the fact she was being tickled. By Jax.
Although, what with the rabbit’s love for making her suffer, she supposed it was bound to happen at some point. Even Jax would run out of violent, painful ideas.
'C'mon! Just answer the question and I'll stop! Did you ever think you'd be so ticklish?'
Gangle tried to hold out, tried not to give him the satisfaction, but he was craning his neck in a way that very much looked like he was about to take a bite into a ribbon. And she could only imagine how much more awful that would’ve felt.
‘OKAY! OKAHAHAHAHAY! NOHOhohoho! I dihihidn’t! No-nohohow stohoHOHOP!’
Jax felt a vague sense of disappointment that she’d cracked so easily, but he wasn’t surprised. She’d folded for less.
It didn’t mean he had to stop, though. When had he ever held a promise in this place?
‘Okayyyy, next up-’
Gangle, through the ticklish agony, felt her heart drop. No way! No way was he still going?!
She didn’t know why she was surprised, honestly.
‘WHA- NOHOHOho!’
Jax briefly held up a finger. ‘Don’t interrupt!’ Before burying it right back within the ribbons. ‘Does it feel worse if I do this?’ He scratched at a particularly sensitive bundle, fingers skimming over the fabric. ‘Or this?’ His other hand used two fingers to drill into where her armpit would be, vibrating into the ‘flesh’.
Gangle honestly couldn’t tell her right from her left at that moment, but she could tell that the drilling was so much worse. The scratches felt like a soothing massage in comparison.
‘AHHGHHHAHAHAHAHA!’ She squashed her arms to her sides, which…didn’t do a whole lot, seeing as she was made of spindly ribbons and Jax’s arm was the width of about 5 of them.
‘Ohoho! It’s unanimous! The rougher one tickles like a b<QUACK>h, huh?’ He crowed with delight. ‘Better even it out- I know you like symmetry, right?’
Jax’s other hand stopped with the scratching and dove under her other arm, copying the drilling motion. Gangle was squealing with laughter now, head thrown back over the armrest, uselessly pawing and slapping at whatever part of the rabbit she could reach. Her laughter went silent briefly as he continued this down the length of her ‘sides’.
‘Okay, one more question- who do you prefer? Me, or…Kinger?’
It was an obvious choice. Kinger was mad, but he was kind. He’d always have a conversation with her if she needed one, even if he forgot the topic every five seconds.
But of course, she knew what Jax wanted to hear. He was such an asshole.
‘C’moooon! I’ll stop this time! Promise!’
Gangle should’ve held out, the chances of him actually following up very slim if going off the previous time, but fuck it. What did she have to lose?
‘YOU! I- I PREHEHEHEHEeheheFER you!’
And, to Jax’s credit…he actually did stop.
He gave her ribbons another quick scrunch and withdrew, sitting back on his heels with an arm draped over the backrest. ‘Well- I had a few more questions, but I think they can wait til next time’
Gangle didn’t think she’d be able to feel so breathless what with not having lungs, but the Circus members didn’t really need to breathe anyway. Nevertheless she found herself with a hand on her chest, splayed halfway over the edge of the cushion, panting.
If she’d been wearing her comedy mask, it’d probably have broken about 5 times over. Her sketchpad lay abandoned on the floor in the chaos.
‘W-why’d you-huff- do that?!’ She exclaimed.
Jax lolled his head back and gestured to her with a loose hand.
‘Ahhh, you’re fine. Besides! You’re always so sad, whinging about somethin’ or other. Did ya a favour. Not sad right now, right?’
‘I-I wasn’t sad in the first place!’
‘Well consider this an investment then. Stockin’ up on the ol’ serotonin’ he then pushed himself up and gave her a lazy wave. ‘You’re welcome!’
Gangle was about to say something but he was already walking off. She hated how pleased with himself he seemed.
However- despite the tickling being objectively awful, it wasn’t as though it had hurt, or caused any lasting damages. It…hadn’t been entirely unpleasant to laugh like that, either. She felt the warm afterglow that reminded her vaguely of when she’d laugh with her friends back in the real world. Or, at a particularly comedic panel of her favourite webcomic.
She took a shaky breath and stretched to grab her sketchpad. The last thing she drew before being tickled to pieces was a bust of an anime character. It didn’t have a face yet.
Giving a quick look over her shoulder, she took her pencil and scribbled away. She found herself giggling quietly.
The bust, once featureless, was laughing brightly. Gangle had made sure to prioritise her focus on the features she didn’t have- the scrunched nose, the showing teeth, the creases of the eyebrows.
She giggled once more at her masterpiece. Usually she’d show Zooble, and really she was going to, but now it had turned into something private and personal, just for herself.
She wondered, shyly, how long it would take for Jax to get curious again.
Robert is being Flambae's spotter while he exercises...And Robert just can't keep his eyes off him. Flambae is just too good-looking for him to look away from...and Flambae knows it. So...What happens if Robert actually indulges in his admirations?
I'm officially part of the Dispatch fandom! I have been for about a month straight...and though it's taken a while to finally write a fanfiction for it, I uh...I had this little idea stuck in my head for about a week...and I needed to get it out there one way or another. So...Here it is! I hope you all enjoy!
Robert was spotting Flambae while he was doing bench presses. Now, Flambae normally wasn’t the type to ask for help on this stuff…He’s Flambae…he should know his own limits. But…Let’s just say that…Maybe Robert had a point when he mentioned that Flambae pushed himself harder than he should. Because pushing himself past his limits usually led to him being unable to lift the bar off himself…and there’s nothing more embarrassing than a man who gets their ribs crushed and winds up asphyxiating under the bar.
“Seven…Eight.” Robert spoke up, before helping Flambae move the bar onto the rest. Robert grabbed him a small towel and his water bottle, while Flambae sat himself up.
“Thanks.” Flambae said, taking the towel and wiping off any excess sweat. He let out a huff as he tried to recover.
Robert smiled a small bit, just admiring how sweaty and breathless Flambae looked on the bench. Something about seeing him in this position made his heart flutter. He’s seen Flambae like this before…quite a few times, actually. But no matter how many times Robert has watched, this side of Flambae never failed to take his breath away.
“Admiring the view?” Flambae spoke up, ripping Robert from his thoughts.
Robert widened his eyes and scratched the back of his head. “Huh? Uh-” He mumbled, trying to play it cool. “You’re…getting stronger.” Robert admitted.
“Hell yeah I am…” Flambae flexed his muscles. “It feels great to be this good-lookin’.” Flambae gloated.
Robert rolled his eyes, trying to keep his reactions in check. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” Robert said dryly.
Flambae turned towards him with furrowed eyebrows and a smirk. “Don’t act like you’re not enjoying it.” He teased, snatching his water bottle from Robert and drinking from it.
Robert rolled his eyes. “Yeah right...” He grumbled, pretending to not be jealous or envious about it.
Flambae smirked. “Don’t you lie to me, bitch. I know when you’re admiring me.” He moved his hand through his own hair. “Admit it…You find me sexy~” Flambae teased, pulling his left arm behind his shoulders to show off his toned body.
Robert rolled his eyes and walked closer…before squeezing the water bottle, making water splash into his face from the end piece.
“AH- Hey!” Flambae grumbled, squeezing the water bottle at Robert to get him back.
Robert chuckled a bit and covered his face, deflecting some of the squirted water with his hand. “Nice try.” He joked, rubbing his wet hand off against his own pants.
“You’re a dick.” Flambae grumbled.
“Funny…I was thinking the same thing about you.” Robert teased back.
“At least I have one, Mecha-bitch.” Flambae spat back.
“And I don’t?” Robert joked back.
“Ohoho, you wish you were as good as me.” Flambae teased.
“Me? Wanting to be you?” Robert reacted. “I’d rather die.”
Flambae narrowed his eyes. “Oh yeah?” He stood up, facing Robert.
“Well unlike you, I actually like having my last 2 fingers.” Robert teased.
Flambae scowled. “And I wonder where they went, Mecha-dick.”
Robert laughed a bit. “Off your hand, that’s for sure.” He joked.
Flambae rolled his eyes and walked past. “Shut up.” Flambae put his water bottle down by the pull-up bar.
Robert raised an eyebrow. “You want a spotter for that too?” He asked, smirking a small bit.
“Nope.” Flambae jumped onto the bar. “I can do this myself.” He started doing pull-ups with great form in sets of 5 to warm up.
Robert chuckled quietly as he watched him start his pull-ups. God…even watching him from this angle made him look hot. It was like Flambae had no bad angles. Everything on him was that perfect…in his eyes, anyway. Robert still didn’t know what to do with these feelings…he’d felt them for months, but…he’d been trying not to focus on him too much. But during the workouts…Robert found himself struggling to stop his eyes from memorizing Flambae…every curve, every angle…It was all hard to ignore. Even his sassy comments and scowls were hot…God, it just wasn’t fair…
“Enjoying yourself?” Flambae spoke up, catching him off guard.
“Wha- Uh…Yeah…” Robert tried, and failed to hide his admiration. But his red face was already giving him away.
Flambae just chuckled. “You know…It might make me feel a bit better if you came closer…” He told Robert. “If you want…you can watch my sexy body while being my little spotter.” Flambae teased.
Robert widened his eyes and felt his blush deepen. Oh god…Had he been that obvious with it?! “Uhhhh…B-But I thought you…didn’t need one?” Robert mumbled.
Flambae smirked. “Oh trust me, I don’t.” Flambae admitted. “But since you’re practically idolizing me…you might wanna make the most of it while you can.” Flambae teased, trying to get Robert to blush more.
Robert widened his eyes, before trying to make himself as stoic as he could. “Nah, I’m good to just watch from here.” Robert said to him, trying to downplay the whole thing.
Flambae smirked at him. “Suit yourself.” He said, adjusting his grip. As he adjusted his grip though, his hands slipped slightly, making him jump. “aAh-!”
Robert gasped and instinctively ran up to catch him…only to realize Flambae was still on the bar, smirking devilishly at him. Robert looked at his hands…before looking at his position. “Oh, you did not just…” Robert grumbled and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“Fuckin’ called it.” Flambae smirked with a small laugh, clearly proud of his fake-out.
Robert rolled his eyes. “Shut up…” He grumbled, before standing in front of him while Flambae continued his pull-ups.
Flambae chuckled a bit as he lowered himself down, looking at him. “Just admit it already. You like me.” Flambae tried to tell him.
Robert widened his eyes and dropped his jaw. “Wait, WHAT?! No I don’t!” He reacted. “That’s insane!”
Flambae smirked with a chuckle. “You’re not exactly good at hiding it.” Flambae told him. “I’ve seen the way you look at me…” Flambae admitted, still talking despite holding himself up against the bar. “And my body’s not just reserved for the women~” He teased.
Robert grumbled to himself. This guy, honestly… “Please…It’s never gonna happen.” Robert argued. Flambae really needs to stop teasing him about that shit. He doesn’t have a crush! Why would he?! He’s an asshole! Yeah, he’s got a good looking body…and looks really sweet whenever he talks about his niece…And when he finds Flambae holding Beef occasionally, but…He doesn’t LIKE-like him…
“Shame…” Flambae muttered.
Robert kept his face stoic. He did NOT want Flambae finding out the truth. He would never hear the end of it! If this little secret came out…Flambae would bully him till the end of time.
Flambae did a few more pull-ups before hanging from the bar. “You’re doing it again…” Flambae teased.
Robert grumbled and crossed his arms. “I’m not admiring you! I’m…” Robert tried to think. “J-Just…making sure you’re using good form.” Robert explained as best he could.
Flambae chuckled a bit. “Come on, Robert…” He shook his head. “If you were really checking my form, you’d be walking around and checking every bit of my body…not just the front.” He told him.
Robert rolled his eyes. As much as he hated admitting it, he had a point. “Yup, I know…Was just about to move.” Robert tried to go along with it, walking around and checking his form as he kept doing the pull-ups. Again…how this man managed to look so good no matter what angle Robert used to look at him…He was perfect. It was so unfair! How could a man have such a ripped, yet toned body?!
Robert walked a bit closer, moving around to the front. Without even fully processing his actions, Robert moved his hand out and touched Flambae’s ab muscles to feel how hard they were.
Flambae’s breath hitched as his arms hung down, a wobbly grunt leaving his body. “aAH-” He looked down at Robert with a stern look. “Warn a person, will ya?!” He spat out.
Robert quickly moved his hand back. “Sorry…” He mumbled. “Just…feeling them.” Robert admitted, slowly bringing his fingers down against his abs again.
Flambae flinched slightly and bit the inside of his lip. “Okay…Just be careful.” He warned.
Robert looked up. “Do they hurt?” He asked.
Flambae shook his head. “No no. They don’t. Just…” Flambae tried to think of a good excuse. “Caught me off guard.”
Robert hummed. “I thought nothing gets past you…” He asked, a small smile showing on his face.
Flambae widened his eyes at Robert’s words. Shit…he DID say that…Fuck. “Y-Yeah, but I didn’t think you, of all people, would do this.” Flambae admitted.
Robert smirked slightly. “Do what? Touch your ribs?” He poked his lower rib, making him flinch more.
“R-Robert-” He could feel more sweat dripping down his forehead as nervousness took over.
“Hm?” Robert looked down at his abs…before looking at Flambae’s nervous face. “What’s wrong?”
Flambae shook his head quickly to get himself to stay tough. “Nothing, nothing. Just…Didn’t know you wanted to touch them.” Flambae admitted, his voice getting slightly softer. “You could’ve just asked…that’s all.” He admitted, getting a bit more vulnerable than he’d like to admit.
Robert felt his face warm up even more. Something about the way he said that…sounded like he was flustered. It was a side of Flambae he barely ever saw…so trying to pinpoint it was never easy. Robert began to feel his ribs more, using only one or two fingers to touch his abs.
Unfortunately, this just made Flambae squirm and jump more. “aAh- R-Robert! I-I said be careful-!” Flambae grumbled while trying to hold his breath. But the moment his left lower rib had been poked…A stupid little sound fell out of Flambae’s lips.
A giggle. A fucking high-pitched little giggle. And telling by Robert’s reaction…he had heard it too.
“W-Was that a giggle?” Robert asked with a smile.
Flambae growled. “No, it was NOT! You fucking liar!” He tried to protest.
“Oho no, I know a giggle when I hear one.” Robert admitted, before poking the same ab. “And that was most certainly-” He poked again.* “A giggle.”
Flambae grunted and let one hand off the bar to cover his face. Shit, he could feel a smile filling his cheeks. This was NOT good…
“Is someone a little ticklish?”
Robert asked the question so casually, it should’ve been a crime. How the hell was Robert being so casual about his question?! “N-No! You’re crazy! Have you been-!” Flambae jumped and yelped, pure anger and fear covering his face. “Robert, don’t you fuckin’ try.”
And then…like clockwork, Robert started tickling his ab muscles with his 8 main fingers. And Flambae was completely screwed. Flambae covered his mouth for as long as he could, which only made his face go tomato red…And by the time about 5 seconds had hit, Flambae just bursted out cackling. “aAAH! PFFFTAHAHAHAHA!” He shouted.
“Holy shit!” Robert reacted.
“ROHOBERT!” He shouted, his hand lowering from his mouth to grip his abs. “GAHAhahaha!” Flambae laughed and squirmed as much as he could while up there.
Robert looked like he was beaming. “You’ve been ticklish all this time?!” He asked, tickling the bottom 3 abs. “How have I never found out about this?” Robert asked, fluttering down by Flambae’s body.
Flambae squirmed and yelped, trying desperately to stop Robert. But holding onto the bar kept one of his defenses pre-occupied. He can’t stop 2 hands with only 5 fingers. That’s impossible. And listen, the guy’s not weak. Flambae can handle many hits before he has to back down. But he just…could never handle being tickled. Even when his niece tickled him to get him up off the couch…Flambae would crack within the first ten seconds.
…And now his grip is gonna crack if he’s not careful.
“ROhohobert stahahap!” Flambae laughed.
“No way. This is way too entertaining!” Robert started tickling a little more closer to his toned belly. This single move ended up earning him a squeal from Flambae. “Have your abs always been this ticklish?” Robert asked, still fluttering his fingers as he watched Flambae struggle on the bar.
“HAhahahaha- Yehehessss!” He hissed a little bit, feeling his grip slowly loosening on the bar. “Waha-Wahahait, Ihihi’mgonna fahahall!” He laughed, kicking his feet a little bit.
“Oh, you wanna get down?” Robert asked, before fluttering up his ribs. “Is it because you don’t want me toooo…” He fluttered up to his armpits.
Flambae yelped and grunted. “NO! I swear to god!” He shrieked.
“Tickle your armpits?” He finally made it to the hollows, and fluttered in there.
Flambae shrieked and dropped his arms down, causing himself to fall…right into Robert’s arms. Flambae let out fits of laughs as he felt Robert’s fingers still in his pits. Even just having them there made him laugh helplessly. “Puhut me dohohown!” He begged.
“Hmmm…” Robert lowered him down a little bit…before smirking and tickling his armpits all over again. “Nah.” Robert muttered rather confidently as he went right for the hollows to drive him up the wall.
Flambae gasped and sputtered out a half-assed protest before falling victim to his own cackles and laughter. He was wriggling around, but failing to get out of Robert’s grip. He couldn’t hide it anymore…he just couldn’t get out of Robert’s grip right now. The tickles were weakening him too much.
“You know, I never would’ve guessed you’d be this ticklish.” Robert admitted.
“Hahahahaha- Yohohou ahahahass!” Flambae laughed as he felt his knees buckle under him. “ROBEHERT!” He shouted right as Robert caught him again, by some miracle.
“I got you.” Robert told him…all the while, he was lowering Flambae down sideways on the mat.
As soon as Flambae landed on the map safely, Robert kept up his ticklish onslaught.
Flambae cackled and squirmed around, ending up with himself laying on his side with his arms clutched to his sides and his knees curled up against his stomach. By this point, his cackles had turned to long-winded giggles and the occasional fit of laughter. “Sssstahahap ihit! Lehehehet meeee gohoho!” He begged.
“And have you stop your laughing? I don’t think so.” Robert told him, before taking out his hands from his pits. “Especially when those abs are too ticklish to even be touched.” Robert teased, as he started poking his abs and belly.
Flambae wheezed and doubled over, clutching his abs with breathless laughter. “Rohobeheherrrt! Yohohou-” He managed to push one hand, but was struggling to get the other hand. Why Robert’s hand was so fast, was completely beyond him. “Ihihi’m gonna kihihill yohohou!” He tried to threaten him.
“Oh, you’re gonna kill me?” Robert asked, smirking. “How are you gonna do that…” He touched down on his front ribs near the abs, making Flambae guffaw. “When you can barely handle a few tickles?” He teased.
“FUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!” Flambae shouted. “HAHAHAHA!” He tried to push Robert off him, but kept pulling his hand back whenever Robert went for his armpits. “SHIHIHIT!” He laughed. “YOHOHOU BAHAHASTARD!” He shouted at him.
Somehow, Robert kept managing to get one step ahead of him. It was infuriating while also…kinda fun in the weirdest way possible. A lot of him was furious Robert had found out one of his only weaknesses…But the other part of him was secretly enjoying it. He may spend his whole life denying it…but he secretly loved when Robert played around like this. The banter was one thing…but the roughhousing? Especially wrestling and play-fighting? That was more his style of fooling around.
Robert chuckled. “Not gonna lie, this is quite the display.” Robert teased. “I could keep you giggling like this all day.” Robert teased.
Flambae was blushing more from those words alone. “SH-SHUHUHUT UHUP! GAHAHAhahaha-!” He covered his mouth in one last futile attempt to hide his laughter. As much as he was absolutely hating getting his weaknesses exploited…He hadn’t laughed like this in ages. Not even his niece had learned to tickle him this much.
Robert couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the sight. Flambae was completely red like his suit, with a bright smile on his face…and now, with his mouth covering it, he looked like a kid trying to hide behind the couch. “Is it too much for you?” Robert asked.
“Rohobert- eeEEEK! PLEHEHEEEASE STAAAHAHAAP!” He shouted, kicking his feet wildly and squirming all over the place by this point.
Robert finally stopped tickling him, making sure that he wasn’t gonna explode. Flambae’s heaving and breathing filled the room for a while as he tried to recover from the big tickle attack. The fact that Robert had managed to get Flambae to plead…was both hilarious, and shocking at the same time.
But despite every stupid thing Robert had done that day, like the tickles, making him fall off the bar, and the many teases and insults Robert threw at him earlier…the last thing he EVER expected was for Robert to help him.
“Here.” Robert spoke, offering him his towel. Flambae looked at him with shock, but took the towel. Damn…even after tickling him to oblivion…Robert knew the best way to help him out. “So…How was your workout?” Robert asked.
Flambae let out a couple more breaths. “A bit…different.” He admitted. Flambae was used to being out of breath from regular exercises…but from tickle fights? Not as much. But in a strange way…it still felt like his abs had gotten stronger due to the tickling. Flambae finally managed to come up with an answer. “I don’t know…” He admitted.
“If you wanted another way to exercise your core…” Robert knelt beside him and gently fluttered his fingers against his abs one last time. “Would you consider getting tickled again?” Robert asked with a smile.
Flambae couldn’t help the giggles that left his mouth. “Ihihi-” He cleared his throat and stopped Robert’s hand. “I don’t know if…I can handle it all the time…But…” Flambae cleared his throat, trying not to make his slightly red face known. “I wouldn’t say no…if you offered…” He mumbled.
Robert widened his eyes. “Wait…” Robert stared at him with shock. “So it wasn’t bad?” He asked for clarification.
Flambae instinctively covered his face with his towel. “Don’t even think about it, Mecha-bitch.” He grumbled. “And don’t you EVER tell anyone about this.” Flambae warned.
Robert dropped his jaw…with a big smile on his face. “There’s no way…”
“Robert, NO!” Flambae growled.
“I can’t believe this!” Robert reacted.
“Robert, I swear!” Flambae argued.
“You actually liked it!” Robert reacted.
Flambae’s eye twitched…as Robert ended up saying it out loud. Oh, Robert had just fucked up…And Flambae has had enough…
The angry ex-villain suddenly sends flames towards Robert in retaliation. “FUCK OFF!”
Robert yelped and moved out of the way, thankful that he, nor anything in the room had caught on fire. “Okay, okay! Jesus, I was joking.” Robert reacted.
“You’d better be…” Flambae warned.
Robert put his hands up in defense, and backed away more. As fun as it was being able to tickle Flambae to the point of pleading for mercy…He’d much rather keep his fingers instead of losing them to the hands of Flambae…
I finally got to see 'Deadpool and Wolverine' on Sunday and have been inspired to write a little tickle fic. :) Hope you guys enjoy!
Warning for movie spoilers and lots of foul language and general Deadpool-isms. But if you've seen the movie too then this is exactly what you should expect from the two of them. XD
"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse
ler!Wade/Deadpool x lee!Logan/Wolverine
Tiny bit of ler!Logan/Wolverine x lee!Wade/Deadpool
M/M Tickle Fic
Word Count: 2,343
Deadpool groaned as he was slammed headfirst into the dashboard of the Odyssey again, taking a moment to upright himself as he turned back around to make eye contact with one pissed off Wolverine.
They had been nonstop fighting for over twenty minutes now and with the both of them being able to heal so quickly it could go on indefinitely. But there was no time for this! With every minute that ticked by that was one less minute that Wade had at the chance to save his universe.
Wade wasn't the type of guy to ever give up, but he knew there was absolutely zero chance that Logan was going to. The older man even seemed to be enjoying taking all of his pent-up anger out through his endless stabbing and slicing at Wade's body.
"Okay! Time out!" Wade screeched with his hands up in a 'T' shape just as Logan launched himself from the back and landed on top of him with his claws at the ready, though managing to restrain himself from thrusting them into Wade's head for the moment.
Wade spoke slowly with his hands still up as a sign of surrender.
"Now let's just take a second here......to calm down......and reassess the situation."
"You started it, bub," Logan growled in his face as the merc scoffed and tossed his head around in exasperation.
"Ohhh c'mon! Can't we just admit that we were both giant assholes?!"
Logan only retained his glower while the tips of his claws pressed into the side of Wade's head.
"Uggh fine! I'll be the grown up here, geez. Okay I'm sorry I punched you in the face first. And I'm sorry I lied about being able to get your world back. But you know there is still a chance that it is possible. Right? We don't know for sure yet that my claim was total bullshit. But I promise that from here on out there will be no more lies from me .....Okay? We good?"
The anger in the feral man's eyes began to subside along with the tension in his muscles diminishing as his breathing grew less harsh and had evened out.
"Not a lie. An educated fucking wish," Logan smirked and retracted his foot-long claws back into his hand much to Wade's relief, "Ya know that's probably the most ridiculous thing I've heard in a long time."
"Sorry, but I was in a panic trying to diffuse the situation and sometimes my mind just comes up with the stupidest shit and I can't control what comes out of my mouth."
"Sometimes?" Logan raised a skeptical brow, making Wade gasp in mock offense.
"Well that's not very nice. I'm a human being, you know, with feelings and dreams.....," he paused as he eyed the man hovering over him up and down before adding, "...and a raging boner."
The Wolverine let out an annoyed sigh and shook his head.
"For fucks sake, does everything have to be a perverted joke with you?"
"Who's joking, gorgeous? Now get off of me. My pants only have so much room for expansion," he carried on while simultaneously giving Logan a poke in the stomach, eliciting a snort and a faint twitch that Wade didn't fail to notice as the man promptly backed off of him.
"Well well, what in the name of PG-rated shit have we got here?" Wade said a little giddily, tilting his head as Logan looked at him with a suspicious frown from where he had now settled into the 3rd row back seat.
"The fuck you babblin' about?" He continued to glare while Wade began slowly crawling towards him from the front of the van.
"I mean, either this is just a wet dream I'm having, or it appears the big, bad Wolverine may be a little ticklish."
Logan's face remained stone-cold, showing no sign of fear as he just huffed and rolled his eyes.
"You're insane. Just stay the fuck away from me."
Wade only shook his head with a grin a mile wide being concealed by his mask as he closed in on his quarry.
"Mm mm, sorry Peanut. But I think we've reached that point in our relationship where it's time to explore each other's bodies. Don't worry, I'll be gentle," he was a mere arm's length away now as Logan bristled up and snarled at him; his claws shooting back out of his fists.
"Wade, I'm not joking. Do NOT fuckin' touch me, or so help me I'll splatter your brains all over the walls of this fucking cab!"
"Ooooh getting a little defensive there," the merc pauses as he turns his head to look out at the audience, now speaking in a husky whisper, "I love it when they play hard to get. Time to enact my elaborate and well-thought-out plan..."
Deadpool lurched back with an act of surprise and flailed his arms around in a frenzy before pointing out the window behind where Logan sat.
Logan had absolutely no idea why he turned around to look. He knew damn well that there was going to be no one there. Maybe it was his nerves finally getting to him as he came to the realization that this crazy freak of a man was seriously about to tickle him.
Wade delayed not a second as he threw himself onto Logan and tackled him back into the cushions where he got his bigger frame trapped between the seats, ending up with Wolverine's claws plunged into both sides of his ribcage.
"Ouchie! Hahaha! Just kidding! Johnny's still dead, you dummy! Now it's tickle time!" He buried his dancing fingers into Logan's stomach as the man growled and clenched his teeth while beginning to squirm underneath him.
"Grrrrggggh! Wade! Motherfuc-Get the fuck offa me!" He yanked his claws out of Wade's sides and continued to frantically stab into his body. Really he wanted to slice the other man's arms off to get him to stop, but the way he was wedged between the seats didn't give him very much room to move his arms efficiently.
"Awww are you trying to tickle me back? How fun! But you know, you really need to work on your technique. Something more like this would work a loooot better....," Wade's hands moved up to tickle his ribs, pressing in hard to make sure to get through the X-man's thick uniform top as Logan bucked and snorted while he tried to hold himself together.
"St-Stop! Goddammit! Stop ticklin' me, ya prihihick!" A regrettable giggle escaped him, and he knew he'd lost any hope that Wade would lay off of him now.
"Ahh now we're getting somewhere. Looks like you really are ticklish, huh?" His hands continued squeezing up and down Logan's sides with rapid speed.
"I never...ssssaid I wasn't-Gahah! Stupid ahahasshole-Aahahahaha!" Logan finally couldn't keep it in any longer as gruff laughter spilled out of him and the power behind his stabbings grew weaker and weaker.
"That is so true. Thank you for pointing that out. You wanna go ahead and do that for me? Hm? You wanna tell me how ticklish you are? How the mighty Wolverine absolutely cannot take the tickles? C'moooon, tell daddy all about it," Wade grinned as he was rewarded with a hard snort from Logan as he unsuccessfully tried to regain control of his laughter.
"Fuhuhuhuck yooooou-ahahahahahaah! Okay okay I'm.....," he wheezed much to Wade's amusement, "I'm seheeheeheerious! That's enohohough!"
"Oh no, this is just getting good. Pretty sure you've had this coming for a long time now, big guy. This may sound crazy, but I'm guessing you don't get tickled very often. Which is a damn shame because look how adorably ticklish you are!" Wade cooed teasingly while kneading his fingers into Logan's belly again as more snorty laughs bubbled out of him.
"I hahahate you sohohohooo fuhuhuhucking muhuhuhuch!" By now Logan had completely abandoned his attempts to stab Wade as he realized that it was pointless and now tried using his arms to guard his sensitive torso while continuing to writhe helplessly.
"Don't say such things, my squirmy wormy. I promise I'll grow on ya. Like a hemorrhoid sure, but that's all semantics. Tell you what, if you promise to refer to me as Marvel Jesus for the rest of the movie I'll let you up right now."
"As soohoohoon ahahas ya let mehehehehe uhup-eehehehehhehehe-I'm g-gonna fuhuhucking kill yooohoou!" Logan bellowed out, but the way he was giggling and pathetically making attempts to push Wade's hands away gave the appearance that he was far from being able to kill anyone right now.
"Ooooh someone's a little sassy pants. Not exactly smart to mouth off to someone who's tickling the crap out of you, but I get the impression you're more of an act before thinking kinda guy. That's alright, we'll tickle that shitty attitude right out of you."
Logan was able to get his big forearms crossed over his stomach in defense, prompting Wade to quickly scope out another target for his tickling barrage as he lunged forward and managed to jam his hands past Logan's clenched biceps up into his armpits.
"Nohohohooooo.....," Logan's thundering guffaw broke up into a long, airy wheeze as he thrashed about in silence for a few moments with Wade delighting in his reactions.
"Awww look at you. Wolverine's not such a tough guy. You just have to know how to pet him and then he's just a cute little helpless Wolvie, isn't he? Does that tickle too much? Does it? Coochie coochie coo!" He pushed his fingers in further to wiggle deep into the soft center of the armpits while the feral mutant convulsed in spasms before finding his voice again.
"Really? Still being a grumpy cunt after all this joy and laughter I've brought to you? I was sure you'd be thanking me by now. Hmmm maybe I'm not trying hard enough. You know what? Yes, I think I have just the thing."
The merc pulled his mask up past his nose before shoving Logan's arms out of the way and yanking up his uniform top, exposing a hairy wall of tightly packed abdominal muscles that Wade was nearly distracted by before refocusing on the task at hand.
"Time for a blow job!" Wade quickly dove his face straight into Logan's belly and began blowing a very ticklish array of raspberries all over as the tough Xman exploded into hysterics.
"Bwwaaahahahaah! You fuhuhuhuhuck! Ahahahahahaha! Stahahap ihihihit! Stahahahahahahaaap! I'll kihihihihilll yoohoohooou! Baaahaahaahahahahah! Fuhuhuhuhuhuuuuck! That tihihihickles! N-Nohohohohoahahahahahhahaha! Pleeheeheeease!"
Wade almost stopped in shock as that last word played over his ears. He had neared the point of getting Wolverine to beg for mercy, which he would most certainly never do when tortured under any other circumstances. That seriously put it all into perspective for him of just how ticklish the big lug really was.
Having gotten this far he wanted to push it more. Logan's stomach was clearly a major weak spot and with the right technique he was confident that he could drive some forbidden words from his lips.
The loud farting noise his mouth made as he blew long and hard right into Logan's bellybutton echoed throughout the whole vehicle along with the screaming laugh that burst out of Logan's chest as he momentarily levitated off of the seat cushion.
Several fantasies began playing through Wade's head as he pictured Wolverine completely breaking down and begging profusely for mercy. That would give him the ultimate bragging rights for sure. Unfortunately, his devious thoughts had distracted him far too much.
Logan had desperately been looking for a way out of this situation and now was his chance. He had to act fast before he was literally tickled to death.
With a twist of his body, he managed to lift one of his legs to put a foot against Wade's stomach and violently kick him away, sending the merc flying back towards the front of the van with a surprised yelp.
Grateful for the tickling to finally end Logan immediately sat up and tried to catch his breath while Deadpool again had to turn himself over from his current upside-down position where he had landed on his head.
"God...dammit.....I told ya....to fucking....stop....," Logan panted as he glared dangerously at Wade, who simply scoffed and gave him a dismissive hand.
"Oh don't be so dramatic! It was just a little tickling. Besides a guy like you should be able to take ten times worse than that."
Logan's only reply was a vicious snarl and the snikt sound of his claws coming out as he got up and began to approach the now wide-eyed merc.
"Woah woah, take it easy! It was all in good fun! You don't have to pull that big macho act on me. You can't fool me, I know you were having fun too, right Logan? Uh.........Right?"
"............."
A few minutes later and Wade found his whole body completely wrapped up and restrained by all of the seat belts in the van with them even covering his entire face and preventing him from uttering more than muffled words.
"Hmph. Finally figured out a way to shut you up," Logan smirked as Deadpool squirmed in his prison of seatbelt webbing; able to hear but unable to see and speak clearly.
"It's true what they say, silence is golden. And I definitely prefer you as bein' the merc without the mouth. Whaddya think about that?" He reached over and tickled his fingers over an exposed area on Wade's side, producing muffled chuckles as his thrashing increased.
"Well I certainly ain't letting you get one up on me. Besides, you like this ticklin' stuff, don't ya? Don't worry, it's all in good fun. Unlike you though, I promise not to be gentle."
One hand dug hard into vulnerable ribs and the other into his thigh as Wade made a futile attempt to scream for mercy.
{The Koopa King kidnaps a human and interrogates him about the other human messing up his plans with the Princess of The Mushroom Kingdom. He settles on quite a silly tactic which ends up being... fun. And this human is kind of cute- wait what?}
Bowser was scary..
But… mostly, he was just kind of dramatic.
“WHERE IS MARIO?!” Bowser roared for what had to be the fifteenth time that hour.
Luigi jumped anyway, tied tightly to a wooden chair in the middle of Bowser’s throne room, “I-I told you, I don’t know!”
Bowser narrowed his eyes.
Luigi stared back nervously.
“…You really don’t know?”
“No!”
Bowser groaned loudly, dragging a claw down his face, “ugh! This is impossible!”
Luigi blinked.
That was it?
No fire breathing? No torture dungeon? No dangling him over lava?
Bowser stomped in a frustrated circle, “Kamek said threatening you would work better…”
“Well, maybe you’re just bad at threatening people,” Luigi muttered before he could stop himself.
Silence.
Bowser slowly turned.
Luigi immediately regretted every life choice he’d ever made.
He was cut off by Bowser simply looming over him, smoke puffing lightly from his nostrils. Luigi shrank back as much as the ropes allowed.
The Koopa King suddenly grinned.
It was not a comforting grin.
“Maybe,” Bowser said slowly, “you just need… stronger motivation.”
Before Luigi could ask what that meant, Bowser grabbed the ropes around the chair and hauled both Luigi and the chair across the room effortlessly.
“HEY-!”
The chair thunked down again.
Luigi looked around frantically and realized that Bowser had dragged him beside the throne platform.
“…Why am I over here?”
Bowser ignored the question.
Instead, huge claws hooked beneath Luigi’s overalls and yanked it down below his butt in one swift motion.
“HEY!” Luigi squeaked, face burning red when he was exposed to just his green undershirt and briefs, “wh-what are you DOING?!”
Bowser tossed the shirt aside carelessly.
“Hm,” he hummed thoughtfully, “scrawnier than the Mario guy.”
“Thanks?!”
Bowser smirked.
He hooked a finger into the collar of his green shirt, and yanked. Buttons popped off scattering to the floor as Luigi’s bare upper body was exposed.
“OKAY! You can stop THERE!-“
Bowser hooked a claw into his the waist of his boxers.
Luigi only scowled despite his fear, “don’t you dare.”
Bowser pulled the waistband out and popped it back, chuckling as he stood back up.
Then he grabbed the ropes securing Luigi’s wrists and retied them higher against the back of the chair, stretching Luigi’s arms up helplessly above his head.
Luigi’s stomach dropped.
“Okaaaay, this officially feels evil now.”
Bowser flexed his claws slowly.
“You’ll talk eventually.”
Luigi swallowed hard.
“…Are you gonna burn me alive?”
Bowser blinked.
“What? No.”
“…Oh.”
“Too messy.”
“Then what sick game are you plann-ING-!”
Without warning, Bowser’s claws dug lightly into Luigi’s sides.
The claws scribbled again.
“WAHAHA! HEY!!”
Bowser paused.
Luigi froze too.
Both stared at each other.
“…Seriously?” Bowser asked.
Luigi’s face immediately turned bright red, “don’t look at me like that!”
Bowser’s grin returned twice as wide.
“Well, well…”
“No. No, absolutely not.”
Bowser wiggled his claws against Luigi’s ribs.
Luigi exploded into helpless laughter, “WAHAHAHAHAIT! NOHOHOHO!!”
“Oh, this is incredible! I didn’t think this would actually work,” Bowser said, sounding genuinely delighted.
Luigi twisted desperately against the chair as giant claws skittered all over his sides and stomach. Every touch sent sharp bursts of laughter pouring out of him.
“STAHAAHAHAHAP!”
“Tell me where Mario is.”
“I DOHOHOHON’T KNOHOHOHOW!”
Bowser leaned closer, eyes gleaming mischievously now, “you’re laughing too hard. I don’t believe you.”
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
Bowser dragged blunt claws lightly up Luigi’s underarms.
The giant Koopa attacked both underarms now, claws scratching carefully without hurting him, and Luigi slammed his back on the chair so hard he nearly tipped it over.
Bowser caught the chair easily with one hand.
“Careful,” he said casually, “wouldn’t want you getting hurt.”
“YOU’RE LITERALLY TIHIHICKLING ME!”
“And? It’s not hurting you, is it?”
Luigi had no response other than shaking his head because he was too busy dissolving into cackles.
Bowser, meanwhile, was becoming increasingly fascinated.
At first this had just been another intimidation tactic. A weird one, sure, but Kamek had suggested “creative approaches.”
But Luigi’s laugh..
It was ridiculous.
Bright and helpless and completely contagious.
And annoyingly cute.
Bowser blinked at the realization.
Cute?
The Koopa King stared at Luigi as the plumber wheezed through laughter, squirming helplessly in the chair.
“…Huh.”
Luigi noticed immediately, “-w-whahahat?”
Bowser almost looked embarrassed, but covered it up quickly with a grin again, “oh nothing.. just thinking about how sensitive you are to… a little air on your belly..”
“Oh NO NO-!,” Luigi said instantly, despite smiling in a way that seemed genuine.
“Oh yes.”
Bowser suddenly shoved his snout against Luigi’s stomach and blew a loud raspberry against his bare belly.
Luigi SCREAMED with laughter.
“WAHAHAHAHAHAHA BOWSEHEHEHER!!”
Bowser actually laughed too now, deep booming chuckles filling the throne room.
Luigi was practically crying laughing at this point, kicking helplessly as Bowser alternated between clawing at his ribs and blowing obnoxious raspberries against his stomach.
“PLEHEHEHEASE!”
“Still not talking?”
“I DOHON’T KNOHOHOHOW WHERE HE IS!”
Bowser paused.
Luigi panted hard, exhausted giggles slipping out every few seconds.
The Koopa King studied him carefully for a moment.
Then he sighed.
“…You really don’t know.”
Luigi blinked, “I told you that from the beginning!”
Bowser shrugged. “Yeah, but this was more fun.”
Luigi stared at him in disbelief.
“You are unbelievably weird,” he tried to sound grossed out but his giggles failed him.
Bowser smirked proudly, “thank you.”
“…That wasn’t a compliment.”
Bowser ignored that too.
Instead, one giant claw lightly poked Luigi’s side again, making him squeak and jerk in the chair.
Bowser’s grin softened strangely.
“…Your laugh is cute.”
Luigi went completely still.
“…Excuse me?”
Bowser immediately looked away with a grunt, “forget I said anything.”
“Oh my god,” Luigi stared at him, “you think I’m cute!” he exclaimed while blushing himself.
“I do NOT.”
“You totally do!”
Bowser crossed his arms stubbornly, “quiet!”
Luigi burst into disbelieving laughter.
Unfortunately for him, Bowser seemed to decide that meant round two.
Bowser stepped closer again, a sinister smile on his muzzle and wiggling his fingers.
“Wait, c-c’mon, you can’t seriously still be doing this-”
Bowser cracked his knuckles dramatically.
Luigi’s eyes widened, “oh no.”
“Oh yes.”
The giant Koopa leaned casually against the chair, one claw tracing slowly up Luigi’s side without quite tickling yet.
Luigi immediately squirmed, “d- don’t do that.”
“Do what?” Bowser asked innocently.
“That weird anticipatory thing!”
“The weird anticipatory thing?” Bowser echoed with a grin, “little guy using big words there… you mean this?”
His claw suddenly scribbled into Luigi’s side.
Luigi burst into startled cackles, “WAHAHAHA- BOWSER!”
“There’s that laugh again,” Bowser teased, “you sound ridiculous.”
“YOU-! YOU’RE RIDIHIHIHICULOUS!! K-KIDNAPPING ME AND DOHOHOING THIHIHIHIS?!”
“Kidnapping is serious business. This?” Bowser fluttered his claws against Luigi’s stomach rapidly, “this is entertainment.”
Luigi dissolved into cackles again, twisting helplessly against the ropes.
“NOHOHOHOHO!”
Bowser seemed far too pleased with himself.
“You know,” he said thoughtfully, “for someone who’s acted nervous this whole time, you sure laugh loud and confidently.”
Luigi kicked helplessly, “I CAHAHAN’T HELP IT!”
“Oh, I know.”
Bowser’s claws climbed back under Luigi’s arms.
Luigi squealed before he even reached his armpits, “NOHOHOHOHO WAIT WAIT!”
Too late.
Bowser attacked both underarms mercilessly.
Luigi’s laughter shot up an octave immediately.
“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STOHOHOHOP!”
Bowser laughed right along with him now, tail thumping once against the floor, “wow, that spot is unbelievable.”
Luigi buried his face against his shoulder uselessly, giggling helplessly between louder bursts of laughter.
“YOHOHOU’RE AWFUHUHUHUL!”
“And you’re ticklish.”
“THATS NONE OF YOUR B- BUSINEHEHEHESS!”
“It became my business the second you started shrieking.”
Luigi groaned through his laughter.
Bowser leaned closer again, eyes glinting mischievously, “I bet that Mario knows about this.”
Luigi’s face turned bright red. He still wasn’t going to reveal anything.
Bowser gasped dramatically, “HE DOES.”
“SHUT UHUHUHUP!”
“Oh, this just keeps getting better.”
Bowser suddenly switched tactics, scribbling rapidly over Luigi’s ribs instead.
Luigi nearly choked laughing, “WAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!”
“That bad, huh?”
Bowser deliberately repeated the motion.
Luigi howled.
Bowser looked absurdly delighted now, “you’re seriously this ticklish everywhere?”
“Nohohoho!”
“That’s sounds like lying..”
Bowser’s claws danced across Luigi’s stomach again, lighter this time, making the plumber squirm and snort helplessly.
“There’s no way Mario hasn’t tickled you before,” Bowser continued smugly.
Luigi immediately avoided eye contact.
Bowser barked out a victorious laugh, “OH, HE DEFINITELY HAS.”
“I swear to gohohod..-”
“What? Did he pin you down too?” Bowser teased, “did you laugh like this for him?~”
Luigi made an absolutely mortified noise, “EW, HE IS MY BROTHER-.”
He would’ve covered his mouth if he could.
“Oh IS HE?” Bowser looked thrilled.
“NO I- I DIDN’T MEAN THAT-“
“Oooh but you said it.. so he’s your brother, hm? Well tell me then, is he as ticklish as you?” he chuckled, gently scratching a claw under Luigi’s chin.
“I-hehehe-! S-stop! I’m not t-telling you thahahat, you freak.-“
“Freak?!” Bowser looked pissed.
Luigi suddenly became scared again.
“Well, yeah I am kinda freaky,~” Bowser waggled his eyebrows.
“Ew! Stop it, you weirdo!” Luigi involuntarily blushed, but kicked Bowser’s shin which didn’t even phase him.
“Hey! No kicking! And, you call me a weirdo, but somehow this is what’s making you blush.”
Luigi couldn’t even argue because Bowser was unfortunately correct.
The Koopa King grinned mischievously before suddenly lowering his head again.
Luigi recognized the look instantly.
“Oh no no no-!”
PPFFBBBBBBT.
The raspberry against his stomach was so loud Luigi practically folded in half.
Bowser prevented this by easily holding his knees down.
Luigi never felt so restrained before, it made it tickle twenty times more.
“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO MOHOHORE!!” he began snorting repeatedly, unable to stop.
Bowser laughed harder at that reaction than anything else so far.
“That is the funniest sound I’ve ever heard.”
Luigi was laughing too hard to form words anymore, reduced to helpless wheezing giggles as Bowser alternated between raspberries and scribbling claws over his stomach and sides.
Finally, after another minute of relentless tickling, Bowser stopped.
Luigi slumped against the chair panting, hair a mess, face burning red.
Bowser crouched in front of him smugly, “ready to talk more?”
Luigi glared weakly.
“…Still… don’t know… where Mario is.”
Bowser stared at him for a beat then he sighed dramatically.
“You know, usually this part of kidnapping is way less fun.”
Luigi snorted tiredly despite himself.
Bowser pointed immediately, “see? You like me.”
“I absolutely do not.”
“Mmhm.”
“You tied me to a chair and tickled me for twenty minutes!”
Bowser considered this, “and yet you’re still smiling and blushing.”
Luigi froze.
Bowser grinned triumphantly.
“…I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
“…Maybe a little.”
“Well… since you still don’t wanna say anything..” Bowser dramatically huffed, though he grinned genuinely.
Luigi blushed more, feeling butterflies in his stomach.
Bowser grabbed hold of Luigi’s ankles, taking his shoes off in one swoop.
Luigi didn’t even protest.. he only giggled in anticipation. He’d tried to hide it this whole time, but goddamnit did he like this..
He loved being tickled, but the fear of Bowser made his brain confused since he liked what was happening but scared of the person- er- creature? doing it. Now he was too worn out to care..
“No protests? Hm.. I think I may have broken the poor guy..” Bowser chuckled to himself.
His claws descended onto Luigi’s helpless feet, relishing in the squeal that came from behind him. Something else he noticed was that he was barely pulling his feet back..
My first Stardew Valley fic! You're paying your friend Dr. Harvey your annual visit, but he's worried you aren't taking the best care of yourself. Luckily, he's found a method of treatment that seems rather effective.
No warnings except tickles
Word Count: 2,124
“Oh, you’re here, right on time, too. You can go back to room 2, Dr. Harvey will be with you in a bit!”
“Thanks, Maru!”
You passed through the door to Maru’s left and headed to room 2, taking a seat on the crinkling sanitary paper on the bench to wait. That was one of the perks of moving to Pelican Town: the population wasn’t so large that the wait time for your annual check up appointment would be long. In fact, there have been times when Harvey only saw one patient a day, or none at all. The poor guy was in the middle of deciding whether his practice would be more beneficial elsewhere, until you’d arrived. You may or may not have ended up in his clinic a few times every season, for one reason or another. And although neither of you wished it upon you to end up injured or passed out, it had given you both some time together, and you now considered each other good friends.
Not five minutes after you arrived did a knock come to the door before Harvey entered, ensuring the door closed completely behind him for privacy’s sake.
“Ah, there you are, it’s good to see you. How have you been? I noticed you haven’t been in recently for any late night run-ins with monsters in the mines,” he greeted, reviewing your chart. You’ve lived in Pelican Town for three years now and you thought there might be more on your chart than some of the other villagers here, given the aforementioned visits for mine-related injuries.
“I’m doing my best to stay out of trouble. Although maybe I should go pick more fights every once in a while, give you something to do.” Dr. Harvey raised an eyebrow and looked up from your chart to glare at you. You chuckled: he always seemed so serious, even in his hobbies, you recently learned.
“You better not, you know better.” You rolled your eyes in response.
“I know, I’m only joking. You know I don’t go down there for the sake of getting hurt.”
“...Just be careful while you’re down there. I’ll start billing you for my own medical expenses if I have to see a therapist for worrying about you,” Dr. Harvey replied as he fetched the usual equipment needed to check your vitals. Then it was the typical procedures: blood pressure, weight, checking ears and throat, etc.
“Any new pain anywhere?”
“Just a pain in my behind,” you jested, watching a confused Dr. Harvey roll his eyes with realization.
“You’re hilarious. Everything appears normal, except you’ve lost a little weight.”
“Is that so bad?”
“By itself, no. But your work is laborious, hard on your body. You need to make sure you fuel it properly. What’s your diet like?”
“Uh…” you paused, suddenly unable to recall. Did you even eat breakfast before you came here?
“... you know, a little of this and that, here and there.” you replied nonchalantly. That is, until your treacherous stomach decided now was the time to growl. Well, there was the answer to your breakfast question. Dr. Harvey cast a stern glare, crossing his arms.
“...this and that, here and there?” he repeated, slowly with a tone that indicated that was not the answer he was looking for.
“Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that.”
“That may be because it is bad. Or at least not sustainable,” Harvey replied, shaking his head. “Lay down on the table, please.”
“What?”
“I want to examine your stomach and abdomen, to make sure everything feels normal still.”
“Uh… sure,” you agreed, laying down. Harvey hasn’t done this examination with you before, usually taking you at your word that everything was okay.
“You really ought to consider three balanced, full meals per day, or five smaller meals throughout the day for a steadier caloric intake,” he said as he washed his hands.
“Sometimes I just forget, and then I’m too tired and just go to bed,” you admitted.
“What am I going to do with you?” Harvey lifted your shirt up slightly and kneaded into your lower belly, checking for any signs that something could be wrong. You’ve had this type of exam before, but even though you braced for contact, you couldn’t help the sharp inhale and the clenching of your fists, trying to stay still so your friend could do his job. However, he would be a bad doctor if he didn’t pick up on reactions from his patients.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I tried to warm my hands at the sink earlier, they might still be a bit cold,” he apologized, continuing to knead toward your belly button and abs. You tried to force down a chuckle, but it came out more like a groan. That’s when he recoiled.
“Are you in pain?” Concern spread on his features, and you felt an embarrassed heat creep on your cheeks.
“No, that’s not it…it’s fine, keep going,” you assured, avoiding his gaze. Suddenly he seemed to understand, a smirk forming behind his moustache.
“Ah, I see. Don’t worry, this is common. This exam can often be ticklish for some patients.” He continued where he left off, hoping that a bit more pressure would help. On the contrary, this time you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, though you still tried to remain still. Harvey chuckled alongside you.
“I don’t remember having a patient react this strongly before, though. Hmm,” he pondered. Surely, there was a learning opportunity here. You had to understand how important eating healthily and regularly was. “... I think you might require further examination.” He paused and wrote something on your chart.
“Ihihis that necessary?” While you internally groaned at yourself for the residual giggles, Harvey’s smirk broadened a bit. However, he tried to maintain an appearance of professionalism.
“Completely. There are numerous things that I should check for, considering you’ve not been eating enough to keep up your strength.” For the first time since Harvey has been your doctor, you doubted him.
“Such as?”
“Gastrointestinal conditions, loss of muscle mass and strength, to name a few. For instance…” he trailed, then without warning began kneading into your belly again, this time with a bit more vigor. Too much to be considered the standard for an exam, in your nonprofessional opinion. However, you wouldn’t get the opportunity to criticize his method, at least not while you were trying to pry his wrists away from your middle, giggling like a mad person the entire time.
“Hahahaharvehehehey!” You managed to whine through your wild cackling as Harvey continued to knead and vibrate the tips of his fingers around your abdomen, effectively rendering you helpless.
“Yes, see here, your midsection is still very strong, that’s good! We want to keep it that way, especially for someone in your line of work,” he informed, but in no way showed any indication of stopping his “exam”. He changed up his methods, now lightly scratching and swiping with his dull nails haphazardly, but with extra attention around your belly button and just under. You released an involuntary squeal as the careful swipes sent jolts of ticklish energy through the rest of your body, and hoped for the sake of any other patients and your pride that these office walls were sound proof.
“Ah, look here, your nervous system is still functioning as would be expected under these conditions,” he continued to assess.
“Whahahahat condihihitions, tohohorture?!” you remarked, resorting to covering your face to muffle your laughter, since your attempts at stopping him so far have failed.
“Oh, hardly. Just standard protocol, is all. No need to be dramatic,” Harvey stated in a no-nonsense tone, but he was no longer trying to hide the mischief on his features. “I’m going to feel around your rib cage now, this might also tickle a bit.”
“Wahahahit, why-EEK! HAHARVEHEY!” Without much warning other than that, Dr. Harvey scurried his fingers upward, tracing and scribbling at the bottom most ribs.
“Goodness me, I can feel all of them, see?” He inquired, going in again for a more vigorous approach, vibrating his fingertips over and in between each individual rib bone.
“HAHAHARVEHEEHEEEY!” You laughed uproariously, your legs kicking out wildly and involuntarily.
“It’s doctor, while you’re here,” He taunted further, “but, anyway, you see? You’re all skin and bone. While I’m here, I better make sure you have all of them.” You thrashed and held tight to Harvey’s arms as he slowly and carefully counted, as if he weren’t actually sure if you had your ribs.
“WHYEHEHE WOHOHOULDN’T I?” all your kicking had since torn at the sanitary paper, but you were of no mind to notice. It seemed your focus was more fixed on the doctor and how he willed his fingers wiggle and weave up, over, and in between each rib, each swipe and poke sending a new flutter to your system.
“Well, I don’t know what the monsters in the mines want, maybe they like human ribs. But! The good news is, it seems like you have them all and they are intact.” He relented for a moment, again to write something down.
“Fahahantasitc,” you huffed, your body suddenly going limp as you regained your breath. “Wahahit, what do you *huff* keep writing?” Dr. Harvey took his gaze off your chart to meet your eyes and smile, as if this was all routine.
“Oh, just jotting down some notes for myself. What to look for during your visits, mostly. Like, if your stomach growls in my office to repeat the exam, and to be sure you’ve not lost any ribs.”
“I’m not a doctor, but you have to be making that up.”
“Are you insinuating I don’t know what I’m doing?” Dr. Harvey asked, shooting you another one of those glares, the ones that were usually followed by some “test” he needed to perform.
“N-no, that’s not-Harvey, wait!” you sat up, realizing now you have a chance to escape, but made the realization too late as his hands descended just above your knees, squeezing just hard enough to buckle you, stealing any ideas of running off. You fell back against the cushioned table once more, kicking and trying to pull your knees up and away from Harvey.
“I’ve decided you need one more exam, we can’t be too careful,” Harvey stated, rapidly squeezing your knees as if that would redeem the credibility you so rudely questioned.
“NoohoHOHO! BWAHAHA!”
“Yes, I see! Your knee joints seem fine and your legs strong, also very reactionary to stimulus. That’s the body’s way of protecting you.”
“IHIHI DOHOHON’T FEEL PROTEHEHECTED!” you barely spoke through the belly laughter, mentally nothing not to challenge his methods again.
“I assure you, your body is still functioning as it should,” he replied, halting his ticklish assault but keeping his hands threateningly at your knees. He waited a beat for you to catch your breath.
“And we’re going to keep it that way with proper eating habits, correct?” he asked, scratching gently at the sensitive skin on your knees while he waited for your response. Though it wasn’t enough to drive you absolutely silly, you still squirmed and couldn’t keep the lighter giggles from bubbling forward.
“Yehes, Harv-”
“Doctor,” he reminded you with a squeeze before resuming the teasing scratches.
“Good, excellent! Then I think we’re finished here,” he said, delivering one final squeeze to your knees before retreating entirely, chuckling light heartedly at the squeal following it. You collapsed back on the examination table, breathless and limp, but somehow also feeling lighter than when you walked in.
Harvey scribbled something down and handed it to you, what looked to be a prescription that just read “Three square meals or five small meals” in the messy cursive that was a doctor’s handwriting, plus recommended servings of proteins, vegetables, and other necessary nutrients for a farmer/miner/fisher such as yourself.
“You better hope you don’t run into any monsters that have any sort of affinity for tickling its prey, I’m afraid we may never hear from you again,” Harvey commented.
“You better hope I don’t sue you for malpractice,” you threatened while you scanned the “prescription,” despite everything deciding that his recommendation overall was pretty fair. He chuckled again, it seemed he did an awful lot of that at your expense today.
“You’re free to go. You can consider my methods as unorthodox as you want, but my point is clear, correct?”
“Yeah, yeah. Eat better, get stronger…” you said, starting toward the door, “...exact revenge.”
“Pardon?”
“Don’t worry about it, doc,” you replied, though he did appear to in fact be worried.
Do you have any Lee!moon crumbs to share? There’s a disappointingly small amount of him getting wrecked for his sassy behavior where I’ve looked (apologies if this seems rude or pushy in any way, you absolutely do not even have to acknowledge this, just curious)
Here’s a short fic I worked on today!! Hope ya like it!
Sass Attack
Summary:
When Moon has a rough day, he accidentally lets it out on his family. His brothers realize this needs to be fixed and quickly, so they alert the expert.
There’s only one way to chase away the grumps and sassiness.
The kids had only just gone home and the day wasn’t quite over yet, but Moondrop felt run down and ragged.
There was still a daycare to clean and patrols to do.
Moon didn’t feel like any of it. He just wanted to lay down and maybe even sleep.
“AAAAAALRIGHTY!” Sun declared getting Moon to jump from the sudden loud proclamation.
“Rrrgh…must you be so loud..” Moon hissed lowly while Eclipse joined them, the eldest tilted his head at Moon while Sun didn’t seem to quite hear him.
“We’ve got a lot of cleaning up to do and we’ll need all hands on deck! Clipsey, I need you to wipe down the craft tables, make sure all supplies are back in their place, and all paint brushes are cleaned!”
“On it~” Eclipse giggled while Moon tiredly shook his head
“Moon! As usual, you’re in charge of cleaning the naptime area! All blankets and pillows in their proper place, wipe down and stack the cots-“
“Want me to get the feather duster out? Put on an apron and sing for the pigeons in the alley to help?”
Sun froze and blinked trying to process what he heard. He looked at his twin, confused.
“What?”
“I didn’t stutter.”
Sun clicked his rays but shook his head a moment later to get the ridiculous statement out of his head.
“Moon this isn’t a time to be silly!”
Moon crossed his arms, raising one hand to mimic the talking motion.
“Moon, meh meh meh meh..”
Sun stared a moment, before placing a hand on his hip.
“Are you making fun of me?”
“I dunno, am I?”
“Moonie!”
“Sunny!”
“Alright alright!” Eclipse stepped between the twins, holding his arms out before they could be nose to nose.
“That’s enough, there’s too much to do for you two to be arguing.”
Moon huffed. “Who said I was arguing?”
Eclipse gave his younger brother a look before sighing.
“Moon, why don’t you go ahead and get your patrols done early. Sun and I can handle things here.”
“But-!” Sun tried to speak but a quiet calm look from Eclipse stopped him.
“Oh..um yeah! You get your patrols done.”
Moon glanced between his brothers but huffed.
“Fine. I’ll be back later.”
While Moon left the daycare, Eclipse watched for a moment to make sure he was gone before taking Sun’s hand.
“Eep! Hey! Clipsey we gotta clean!”
“In a minute, Sunny.” Eclipse promised, waiting for the wire to come down. As he hooked it on, he wrapped his arms around Sun’s torso.
“I wanna tell Mom about Moon’s behavior…I don’t think he’s in the best of moods.”
Sun blinked. “Huh…well, that explains the attitude…”
“Sassier than you.”
“H-Hey!”
Eclipse giggled as they reached the balcony, entering to find the large mass of cream and orange colored fur.
The dragon hound lifted her head and smiled.
“You boys done with yer work already? It’s barely 7 now.”
Sun hurried to greet their mother with a hug, grunting with effort as he tried to give her a big squeeze without much success since he couldn’t get his arms around her.
“Actually we needed to talk to you mom.” Eclipse smiled softly.
Ana leaned down to lick Sun’s rays, earning a squeak and a giggle.
“Everything okay?” Ana asked then, leaning over to nuzzle Eclipse.
“It’s Moon.” Sun frowned lightly while Eclipse hugged her snout.
“He’s not in the best mood today. Acting rather…” Eclipse trailed off to find the right word. Though Sun seemed to have the perfect one.
“Bratty.”
Ana raised a brow.
“That so?”
“The amount of sass exceeds even Sun’s” Eclipse sighed, earning another playful glare from the smaller star.
“I see…well good news is, I know exactly how to cure that.” Ana smirked sitting up then. She gently nudged her two boys.
“You go on and get yer work done. I’ll handle yer brother.”
“Thanks mom, knew you could.”
“See you soon mama!!”
As they went back to clean and finish their nightly chores, Ana got up and stretched before heading out to wait by the doors to the daycare for Moon to return.
The hour passed, Moon didn’t hurry back either. He was in no rush to help clean and he was sure his brothers hadn’t quite finished.
“Alright Sun, I’m ba-AAAACK!” Moon yelped out as he was scooped up the moment he walked past the threshold to the daycare.
“H-hey!” He turned his head seeing Ana holding him by the neck collar like a kitten. “Mom! Put me down!!”
Ana hummed lightly as she carried her screeching bat back up to the loft.
Sun and Eclipse watched for a moment.
“How much trouble do you think he’s in?” Eclipse asked to which Sun giggled.
“You know mom, when she knows any of us needs cheering up, she goes aaaall out!”
“Well, that is true…” Eclipse sighed amused.
Meanwhile in the loft, Ana made her way to her nest and plopped herself down. She kept Moon in her jaws while he squirmed and whined.
“Moooooom! Come on!”
He got a chuckle from her as she laid him in her arms and began licking his face.
“H-hehehey!” He snickered, trying to push her away and suppress the ticklish giggles bubbling up. “What are you doing, I gotta work mom!”
“Nah, yer patrols are done for now and yer brothers are handling things. For now, I heard someone had a case of sassinitis grumptitus~” Ana chuffed.
Moon froze as soon as the end of that sentence left her lips. That’s what their mother called it whenever Sun was being overly sassy. And for some reason, the silly fake disease always got each of them shy and giddy. That reason really being cause they knew what comes next.
“N-no I don’t…” Moon muttered, crossing his arms and looking away. “I don’t know what Sun and Eclipse told you but they’re wrong”
“You don’t?” Ana smirked moving her head so he had to look at her. “You mind if I run some tests to check that?”
Moon looked at her in confusion. “Tests?”
Ana nodded as she gently moved him to lay him comfortably. She hummed as she scanned over him.
“Let’s see…eyes aint nearly as bright as they usually are. This pointy cute lil nose…” she gently grabbed the tip of said appendage between two fingers and wiggled it, Moon snorting lightly.
“Mhm, still cute as ever. Moving on.”
Her paws moved to squeeze his cheeks and stroke the crescent under his jaw, getting a few giggles out of him.
“Myehahaha! Mahaham!”
“That smile isn’t nearly as big as it usually is.”
“Ihihit is toohoohoo!”
“No, it can get so much bigger than this.” Ana smiled as she took Moon’s arms and lifted them above his head to keep them there with one paw.
“But the real telling symptom?” She lowered her head to whisper dramatically.
“Is saying you don’t have it~ and there’s only one cure for it~”
Moon snorted, feeling the anxiety of anticipation bubbling up in his belly. Part of him wanted to give in but the other part…
“Where did you get your medical degree?” He shot with a snicker.
Ana grinned down at him.
“I’ll have you know that I’ve worked hard to be able to spot this sort of thing out just so I can chase it away~”
“Nice dodging the question moAHAHAM AHAHAA H-HEHEY!”
Moon’s snark was cut off when he felt claws scribbling along his left side.
“Hold still now, Moonberry~ gotta get that nasty lil infection out of ya!” The dragon teased as her claws jumped from his left side to his right and back again.
Moon squealed out, squirming side to side in an attempt to avoid the paw to no avail.
“Moon…that’s not staying still baby. I can’t help you if you don’t~”
Ana chuffed holding her paw just above him in a tease
Moon giggle whined, trying to move his torso away, eyes stuck on that menacing paw.
“I-ihihi khkhkhkhcan’t hehehelp ihihit!”
“You caaaan’t~?” Ana sang lowering her paw slightly. “Well guess I’ll just have to keep a good hold of you huh my lil bat?”
Moon let out a squeak, bringing his legs up to try and protect his belly. Ana chuckled.
“Ohh I think that Sass and grumps is trying to stop me. Don’t worry sugastar, I don’t give in so easily!”
Her free paw went right under his right underarm, tickling at the ball joints.
Moon kicked his legs out, now trying to yank his arms down. Ana had them in a good hold however, her little star being able to only wiggle in place while claws wiggled against the ball joints, every now again grazing the even more sensitive wires that stuck out.
“There we go! Now yer not so curled up! Just what I wanted!”
Moon hiccuped as the tickles slowed, he opened an eye at her.
“Wh-whahat are hic you-youhoohoo hic planning..?” He
Ana’s lips pulled into a playful grin.
“Oh I just needed an opening to chase away that infection…you know what scares it the most?”
Moon snickered and shook his head, the bell in the little star slightly jingling.
“Just a little of….THIS!”
She took a breath and blew a raspberry directly in the middle of Moon’s belly. The naptime attendant’s eyes went wide as a squeal escaped his voice box. He tried arching away from the evil tactic but there was no escape.
Moon kicked his legs and squirmed as much as he could. He jolted again when Ana released his hands and suddenly began lightly scratching his sides, all while another raspberry was planted over his dent.
Moon couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted to push her paws away or her snout, switching between trying to shove both away while he laughed freely.
“NONONONAHAHAOHOHOHO!! MAHAHAHAMAHAHAAA! GYEEHEEHEEHEE! OHOHOKAY OHOHOKAY PFFTHAHAHA! IM SAHAHARRY IM SAHAHARRIHIHIII! KHHHKHKHKHKHEEE R-RED! REHEHED! IHIHIM FUHUHUHULL!!”
Hearing their go to code, she stopped and let him breathe, chuckling as she nuzzled him.
“Did I get it all~?”
Moon hiccuped and nodded, lifting his arms to hug around her head and nuzzling back.
Moon moved to lay against her chest, nuzzling into the soft fur while he gathered his thoughts into words.
“I…don’t know. I don’t have much of an excuse. It was just a really long day, I’ve been tired and just…didn’t feel like it today, I guess.”
Ana nodded.
“That seems to be a common thing with you and yer brother.” She wrapped her paw around him to hold him. Her boys had their moments, their flaws, things that made them more alive than just any other robot.
Moon sighed. “Sorry.”
“I ain’t the one to apologize to hun. That would be yer brothers.”
Moon nodded in understanding. He did give Sun a bit of bite after all.
“Right…I will.”
Then he shrunk back a little shyly.
“This uh…doesn’t replace our bedtime games does it..?”
The dragon hound raised a brow playfully and chortled a bit.
“Not if you don’t want it to. I’m happy to play with you boys whenever you’d like.”
Moon smiled at that and hugged around her face.
“Thanks mom..”
“Of course. Now, go see if yer brothers need anymore help, then we can relax and play. Deal?”
“Deal.” Moon grinned, standing up and heading back toward the balcony.
“See you in a few mom, love you.”
“Love you too sugastar, see ya in a bit.”
Ana smiled and laid her head back down to wait for all three of her boys to return for the night
