#Seans tickle fic

[aninklingof]

An Unlucky Encounter

I am bored and I want Lee! Dream so here we are. I’m spoiling y’all with so much content this week.

Lee! Dream

Ler! DreamXD

Warnings: XD has 4 arms, ✨extremely platonic✨

~~~~~

Luck was truly not on Dream’s side today.

He, Sapnap and George had decided to do manhunt training that morning, but with a slight twist. To raise the stakes a bit, the three had decided to throw some cash in. If Dream won, he’d get ten dollars from his two friends (adding up to $20). If they won, he’d give each of them twenty bucks. Now with money on the line, Dream was a little more eager to win.

Unfortunately, the manhunt hadn’t quite started out the way he’d hoped. Toward the beginning Sapnap had kept up with him a little too well, so when he came up upon a village with a blacksmith Dream had to run right past it to keep away from the ravenhead hot on his heels.

George looted the blacksmith and when he finally caught up with Dream and Sapnap he was wielding an iron sword and clad in an iron chestplate. Not only that, but he’d gotten all the bread he possibly could from the village as well. With the two hunters being well armed and with plenty of food to keep their health up, Dream really had no other choice than to flee.

Eventually he had managed to lose the two by jumping through the canopies of the forest and hiding in a cave. He steadied himself by leaning against the wall and took heaving, greedy breaths. His mind was racing for any semblance of a plan when his train of thought was interrupted by a familiar pop.

Dream whipped around and was greeted by the sight of the server protector, DreamXD. “E-Ex, now’s not the best time,” he stuttered.

“Where are we?” The god asked, having to bend down due to the cave being too small for them.

“Look, I’m in the middle of a manhunt with Sapnap and George right now. They’re probably really close by so keep your voice down okay?” Dream explained in a hoarse whisper, an edge of irritation in his tone.

“I thought we agreed that you would tell me when you did a manhunt,” XD said lowly, crossing their arms disapprovingly.

Since the ultimate goal of manhunt was to get to the end and beat the dragon, and XD’s job was to make sure mortals didn’t do exactly that, the two had agreed that as long as Dream let his godly counterpart know when one of these hunts was to take place, XD would allow them to enter the end. Afterward XD would revive the dragon and put the end back to the way it was, and time would move on as normal.

However since this was only training, Dream only needed to find the stronghold and the portal room, not enter the end itself. So he hadn’t told XD.

“What? No, it’s not a real manhunt— we’re just training.” Dream peeked his head out of the cave mouth, checking for any sign of Sapnap and George. “Listen, I really don’t have time for this right now—“

“You need to tell me when you play your hunts, brother,” XD scolded, their voice dark and intimidating.

Dream scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s just training Ex, it didn’t matter.”

“No.” The deity interrupted, their arms unfolding out of their cloak. “You should’ve told me. I think a punishment is in order.”

Dream’s stomach dropped as if he was on a rollercoaster. Before he could even think about running though he was tackled to the cave floor, his arms stretched out to his sides by XD’s top set of arms. The bottom set then grabbed the hem of his hoodie and lifted it to his ribs, causing a surge of panic to go through his body.

“WAIT XD noho! Not right now! I’m trying toho hide!” Dream whisper-yelled, choking down frantic giggles that climbed his throat.

“Then you’d best stay quiet, hm?” XD replied, pushing up their mask to reveal their teasing fanged grin and simultaneously flicking off the blonde man’s mask.

“Noho plehease! Dohon’t!”

The deity ignored his pleas, is clawed hands wigging in the air just above Dream’s exposed stomach. “Ooh Dreamie, I’m gonna get your little belly~!”

“Ehehex dehehee plehehease! Thehey could be nehehearby!” The man giggled, sucking in his tummy as far as it would go to avoid the teasing fingers.

“Then don’t laugh.” And finally XD’s fingers touched down, skittering all over Dream’s sensitive stomach.

The green-clad speedrunner squealed, bucking and wigging every which way. His face was scrunched up and his smile was wide as he tried to muffle his uncontrollable laughter.

XD smiled, delighted with their brother’s struggle to keep quiet as his fingers scratched over every inch of his bouncing tummy.

“Hm, I’m impressed. Usually you’d be losing it right now.” The god commented teasingly, zeroing in on the sides of Dream’s stomach. In response the mortal arched his back and let out a whine, shaking his head side to side.

“What, not here? It’s riiiight here too ticklish for you?~” XD scratched ever-so gently at the freckled skin, moving slowly to his waistline.

Dream yipped and his muffled laughter grew slightly more frantic, his blonde hair flopping every which-way.

“What about here?~” they cooed, now tickling each side of the man’s belly button. Mirthful tears pricked the corners of Dream’s eyes but he stayed strong. XD knew he wouldn’t be able to stay quiet for much longer, and they knew exactly how to break him.

“What about….. right…… here!” XD suddenly poked a nail into Dream’s belly button, wiggling it wildly. His eyes popped open and a wheeze finally escaped his his lips, loud unbridled laughter following soon after.

“EHEHEHEX DEHEHEE NOHOHOHO!! NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!! IHIT TIHIHIHICKLES TOO MAHAHAH—!!” Dream pressed out between desperate peals of laughter, squirming like his life depended on it.

XD removed their finger and quickly dipped their head down, planting a big raspberry right on the poor man’s belly while their hands clawed at his hips. Dream’s laughter rose into silence, arching his back in pure ticklish agony. The shocks running through his nerves were far too intense, overrunning his brain to where all he could think was ‘IT TICKLES IT TICKLES IT TICKLES’

“PLEHEHEHEASE XD!!! I GIHIHIVE!! MEHEHERCEHEHE—AHAHAHA!!”

At the mortal’s desperate cry XD stopped, releasing Dream’s arms and firmly rubbing his tingling abdomen to work out the leftover tickles. Dream’s arms didn’t move down, staying right where they were as he giggled and gasped for breath.

“You okay?” XD asked, only to get a weak nod in return.

The deity scooped up the limp, giggly man in their arms and strode out of the cave. Off in a clearing not too far away Sapnap and George were arguing over which was their compass was pointing when XD approached them.

They instantly stoped bickering and rushed over worriedly. XD calmly reassured them that Dream was okay and that he just needed to nap for a bit. The god offered to teleport them back to the community house, which they agreed to. There XD laid Dream on a bed (that they spawned in), bid farewell to George and Sapnap, and disappeared out the door.

~~~~~

#lee!dream #Ler DreamXD #dsmp fic #dsmp tickle #tickle fics #tickle community #DSMP #dream smp #Seans tickle fic

[mushiewrites]

Breaking a Bad Habit

Oh my gosh jaw anon, this took forever but it’s finally here (not sure if you still are oop)! I have expanded on sapnap and his sensitive jaw. I love him and he is so giggly and small and cuddly and tklish and I want to squish him! Anyway, enjoy! (from this ask)

Sapnap has a bad habit of clenching his jaw. Dream finds a fun way to condition him to stop

(lee!Sapnap / ler!Dream : 1.5K words)

“You’re doing it again.” Dream sighed as he watched the brunette begin to move his jaw back and forth to loosen it up, producing a groan and an overexaggerated eye roll in response. It had been the fourth time tonight that he was reprimanded for his terrible habit. Sapnap tilted his head back slightly as he let his mouth fall open, bringing a hand up to massage either side of his jaw to try and soothe the dull ache that was beginning to form beneath his skin there. A second later he set his controller down on the table in front of him and brought his other hand up to his face, now rubbing circles on either side of his jaw with each hand.

“Okay, fuck off, I don’t care,” he spat out in annoyance. Dream scoffed at the response to his warning, almost offended for being sassed for caring. Sapnap turned his head in the direction of the disapproving sound, rolling his eyes once more as Dream just looked at him with his puppy dog eyes. “Shut up Dream, it’s fine.”

The blonde followed his movements as Sapnap gave one last rub to his jaw before leaning his elbows back against his knees, picking up the remote and unpausing his game to continue playing. Dream continued to watch him from the corner of his eye, not paying attention to the game anymore and instead focusing on the other boy's jaw.

Not even a minute later Sapnap was already back to clenching his jaw, completely unaware that he was doing it. Dream opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself, knowing that Sapnap wouldn’t listen to a word he said anyway. He sat back and let his mind wander, thinking about how he could really get this to sink into Sapnap’s mind. After a minute or so Dream had come up with the idea to poke at his jaw every time it clenched; it would be annoying enough to condition Sapnap to not clench his jaw anymore. And so he set his plan into motion.

Reaching forward slowly, Dream held out his pointer finger and got ready to poke Sapnap’s jaw. He was so focused on the game that he didn’t notice Dream’s hand inching closer and closer to him until it was too late. The finger touched down on his jaw, right on the top left side by his ear and poked twice.

The reaction was not anything Dream had expected it to be.

When he went over the possible outcomes of the poke, he thought of the different ways Sapnap could react to it. Dream could see a scenario where Sapnap slapped his hand away and cursed him off - he could definitely paint a vivid picture of that. He could see Sapnap completely ignore him but also fix his clenching, which he thought would probably be the best outcome.

What he didn’t expect was for Sapnap to squeal.

“N-noho!” the younger boy let out a tiny protest combined with a tiny giggle, immediately turning red at his own reaction. He turned back towards Dream with wide eyes, rubbing at the spot that the offending finger had poked. The way the blonde was smirking sent a chill down Sapnap’s spine, causing him to squirm slightly and drop eye contact out of embarrassment. He could feel the elder's burning stare, whose finger was still hovering in the air mere inches from his jaw.

“Sapnap,” he winced when he heard his name, hearing Dream inhale before he continued. “What was that? Do you have something to tell me?”

The smaller boy paused his game again, quickly putting the controller down and turning his whole body slightly in Dream’s direction. He had a hand out in front of him, the other still pressed against his jaw in an attempt to make the tingling go away. Dream noticed that his ears were slowly starting to match the color of his cheeks and couldn’t help the smirk that began to spread across his face. When Sapnap’s ears blushed, the blonde knew that he was flustered.

“N-No! What are you even talking about, shut up!” The defensive tone in his voice only further proved Dream’s theory that Sapnap was definitely flustered right now. He looked around the room, eyes darting from Dream’s hands to something else, and back to his hands - he didn’t want to be ambushed or taken by surprise if Dream attempted to wreck him.

The elder let out a giggle, light and squeaky as he rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of Sapnap’s denial. Dream knew that reaction well. He could make the younger boy cackle in seconds, sometimes even beg in that amount of time, too. The familiarity of it all was making Dream giddy, his fingers already flinching against the thighs of his pants.

This movement caught Sapnap’s attention, causing him to let out a dramatic gasp as he jumped back on the couch, scooting back as far as he could. But all things come to an end, and unfortunately that included the length of their couch. His back hit the arm of the couch, stopping his escape temporarily and making him break into nervous chirps of laughter. Sapnap looked up briefly and squealed as he watched Dream slowly crawl towards him, a menacing grin stretching from ear to ear. He felt his stomach flip at the expression on the other man’s face, wasting precious seconds he could’ve used to plan a new escape route. Sapnap let out a shriek as Dream grabbed his ankle and pulled, causing him to slip down into his back against the cushions. He turned to try and crawl away but was stuck in place due to Dream holding him. Sapnap swallowed thickly, the realization setting in that it was indeed too late to try and get away.

“Nohoho Dream, fuhuck OFF!” A squawk of a laugh erupted as he ended his sentence, yanking his leg at the feeling of Dream quickly wiggling a finger over his socked foot. “NOHOHO d-dohon’t!”

Sapnap heard a quiet chuckle behind him before he felt Dream release his hold on his ankle, suddenly feeling his hands grabbing at his sides and lifting him up. He yelped at this, feeling flustered at how easy it was for Dream to move him around like that. But that thought quickly passed as a new fear unlocked itself - he was now trapped against Dream’s chest, his arms at his sides with no way to escape. Of course, this didn’t stop him from trying to struggle and squirm his way out of Dream’s firm grasp.

“I’m not even doing anything, you baby,” Sapnap wasn’t expecting Dream’s voice to be so close to his ear, shivering and bringing his shoulder up to try and block the tickly vibrations as he continued to speak. “But don’t worry! I’m about to.”

Another shriek tore from Sapnap’s throat, this time followed by raspy giggles. Dream had slotted his chin on Sapnap’s shoulder to keep him from bringing his shoulder up before rubbing his stubble under Sapnap’s ear. The younger’s laughter was slowly rising in pitch, reaching its peak at a shrill squeak that closely resembled a baby bird. But when Dream brought a hand up to trace along Sapnap’s jaw line, the small giggles now turned into boisterous laughter.

“God, Sapnap, how have I never found this before? This is like a gold mine! Look at you!” Dream was smiling through his words as he felt Sapnap start to squirm in his lap, his laughter rising and his ears turning bright red as the blonde teased him.

“Nahaha D-Dream! Plehehease it’s too muhuHUHCH! NOHOHO!” Sapnap cried out through his giggles as Dream pressed his lips below his ear and blew a huge raspberry while fluttered two fingers along his jawline. Dream made sure to shake his head as the raspberry was coming to an end to tickle Sapnap more, producing squeals through his laughter.

The elder smiled as he pulled his lips from Sapnap’s neck and sat back more, allowing the smaller boy’s shoulder to finally be released. Sapnap rubbed his shoulder against his ear, trying to calm the ticklish electricity that was still bursting under his skin. Dream removed his grip from around Sapnap, instead gently leaning him back and cuddling him with both arms lightly. He could feel the younger boy practically melt into him, watching as his eyelids closed almost immediately. Sap could feel the vibration from Dream’s giggle along his back before he began to speak.

“Remember this next time you’re about to clench your jaw, you little idiot.”

Sapnap felt a hand run through his hair, a tiny giggle passing through his lips as he drifted off to sleep in the warmth of Dream’s arms. He would certainly remember this next time.

And if he starts to clench his jaw on purpose to get tickles? Well, no one needs to know.

#lee!sapnap #ler!dream #i loved this so much ): #i love expanding on non traditional spots #they’re the cutest things ever ): #and the fact sap has an incredibly sensitive jaw?????? #so cute ): #thank u jaw anon for the prompt and i hope u get to see this!! #jaw anon #mushie fics #mcyt tickle #my stuff #OH!!! #sean wanted u all to know that my google doc for this #was named jawjaw binks #i’m so clever and hilarious guys

[sleepy--anon]

Day 17: Interrogation

Reserved by @aninklingof

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

You can still reserve unmarked days, only one left!

Please check my writing list before you request

Karl and Dream were spending the day together, wanting to make up for lost time. Karl felt bad that he'd met up with Sapnap and George so many times and knew so much about them but couldn't say the same for Dream. After showing Dream the sights of North Carolina, they ended up in Karl's room, on his bed, just talking about random things. Karl asking little questions that he knew the answer to for the others and vice-versa.

"Oh! Here's one, I won't even ask are you because I know you are. Where are you ticklish and how much?" Dream flushed bright pink, Karl's referral to already knowing coming from their hug when Karl squeezed his sides. Dream’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he shook his head at the question.

"No~? No you don't wanna answer my question~?" Karl purred, already happy with how easily flustered he made him. Karl was as nimble as a cat, he sprung up onto Dream, sitting atop his hips, pressing his shoulders into the mattress.

"You are at most going to tell me your worst spot Dreamie boy~" Dream was borderline short circuiting, he didn't know what to do with himself. Karl pressed a soft kiss right between his eyebrows, softly cupping his face.

"You are so damn cute! I can't" Dream flushed darker at the compliment, squeezing his eyes shut. Which proved to be a big mistake when he didn't see Karl reach for his sides and squeeze. Dream’s eyes shot open, immediately bursting into hysterical giggles. His hands came up and shook before dropping to Karl's small wrists when he slipped under his crewneck, feeling his cool rings against his bare sides.

"Come on Dream just tell me~" Karl switched to his nails, crawling them up his ribs. Dream’s back arched before slamming back down, for some reason more sensitive today. His giggles turned into soft high pitched cackles.

"KAHAHARL! PLEHEHEASE!" Dream rolled left and right to try to dispel the feeling of Karl massaging his ribs. Karl flooding his ears with whispered compliments, teases, and repeating the dreaded question. His nails migrated down, in a claw shape, until they hit his tummy, earning a shriek and full body convulsion.

"FUHUHUHUCK! THEHEHEHERE!" Dream's hands switch between covering his face and pushing Karl's hands.

"Awwwww~! It's your tummy~? Dreamie has a tickly tummy~?" Karl had a small pang of sympathy, having been the victim of death spot attacks by both Sapnap and George, separate and together. He pulled his hands out of his shirt and lightly skittered around his belly with one hand, relishing in how he giggled into his hands.

"You are so cute I think I might pop!" Karl cooed, cupping Dream’s face, covering him in kisses, still pulling frantic giggles from the blonde.

"Thank you for telling me cutie~" Dream took a big breath before grabbing Karl's waist and flipping them over so now their positions were alternated.

"You can repay me by answering the same question Karl~ Where are YOU most ticklish~?"

#aninklingof #sean tag #augtickletober2023 #ler!karl #ler!karl jacobs #lee!dream #dsmp tickle #mcyt tickle #mcyt tickle fic #sleepy's fics #implied lee!karl

[jsidetickles]

I’m in the mood to write some short tickle fics, but mainly for LIS2, so please give me some prompts for Sean, Daniel and Esteban!

#life is strange 2 #lis2 #lis 2 #sean diaz #daniel diaz #esteban diaz #tickle fic #prompts

[ofallthingsnasty]

through the briar

Pairing: Micah Bell x F!Reader Tags: dead dove: do not eat, hard noncon, sexual coercion, chubby reader, fat-shaming (reader receiving), alcohol, vaginal sex, this is not a happy fic, Micah Bell as his own trigger warning, Arthur Morgan is a good man but he can’t save you Word count: 4.8k Summary: He's a rotten man. And you've always been too soft, both in mind and body.

In the end, it all goes wrong after a ruined job.

Note: Please read the tags properly! I admit I don't like him but I like his character - if that makes sense? He is despicable and that makes him fun to write for. English is also not my first language, so if anything reads a little weird for the late 19th-century setting, that’s probably it. Sorry in advance. And please if you wanna talk rdr2 darkfic/smut, I am so here!!

The flames in front of you are high and merry.

During the day, they sting your cheeks in the Lemoyne heat, but at night they wrap themselves around you like a cozy blanket, a welcome addition to the tepid air that settles over Flat Iron Lake as soon as the sun sets. The days are long and suffocatingly hot here, something that you especially feel, under your skirts and in every crevice of your body. You spend them with rolled up sleeves and a prickling nose, entrenched into your chores with sweat dripping from your brow by noon. Only now, when the sun finally relents and stops spurring on the muggy air of the lake, can you appreciate the temperature. The nights are nice and, if you ignore the bugs that bite and nip at every inch of exposed skin, they’re even downright comfortable. Colter seems a long way from here now, and you’re grateful for it. You like it, sweat or not, and still you are sitting by the fire instead of sleeping, restless and your mind in coils. The other women are already in bed, even Karen, who is the one to stick around the longest these past few days, has long since started snoring. Truly, at first they had been understanding, but after days even they have grown a little tired of your groveling, especially now that Arthur is back from the brink of death and everyone busy with his recovery. No one cares about your little quarrel with Micah anymore. It has to seem small to them, you’re sure. It’s huge to you - you, the one who had a gun pressed to her forehead, almost a casualty of a failed stagecoach robbery - but at the end of the day, it’s nothing. And you agree, in part. It’s entirely your fault, you feel, that a silly, botched job has gone to your head that badly. It shouldn't irk you as much as it does, because you have seen many things go south in your time, after all. But it’s not every day that you stare death into the face, as well. You aren’t Arthur. Or John or Sean or even Micah, for whom it seems to be a daily occurence. You’re just you: soft in both mind and body, someone of Dutch’s ever-growing menagerie of pets and misfits. Picked up like a flea-ridden stray from the side of the road because you tickled something in the big, grand heart of Mr. Van der Linde, for whatever indiscernible reason. 

You aren’t quite useless. But you aren’t all that helpful, either. And so it stings all the more to know you’re just a little more vulnerable than you thought you were. You didn’t botch the job, you’re quite aware of that. It had been Micah who messed it up; not acting quickly enough and rushing into the attack, paying no mind to you, who had been standing out in the open without protection. It certainly hadn’t been your looks that made it end badly, like he insisted afterwards, or your inability to handle a gun.

But Micah’s needling and taunts are hard to ignore when he knows just how to crawl into every however tightly guarded insecurity of yours.

He had been at his peak immediately after you crawled back into camp, clutching the reins of a borrowed shire like your life depended on it, eyes wide and hands cold. And even though you had already expected the treatment that followed after he stormed away from the busted-up coach when every single man around you was dead, it had stung immensely.

You did nothing but tuck your chin into yourself and let your eyes burn with tears while he berated you for mistakes that weren’t yours. Walking away didn’t help - he was like a hungry dog, nipping at your heels with venom in his voice and quick hands that waved around wildly, drawing everyone’s attention to your lecture. He pushed and prodded until your cheeks were a stinging, hot mess and you could only mumble about how sorry you were. Only Arthur arriving in camp with fresh game and a few dollars in his pocket had saved you. Micah rode out, then, and Arthur had shuffled you away to the main fire, a calming hand on your shoulder. And oh, Arthur. He had been the kindest about it all. Always a watchful eye on you when he was around because Micah did not let go of his venom - and when he was around, the blond would at least leave you with a couple of sarcastic remarks, but nothing quite as malicious as when he caught you on your own. Arthur stepped in between you and his abuse more than once, always with a tight jaw and hard eyes, telling Micah to finally forget about it. But it only helped in the moment. The busted coach is just the latest issue he has with you, and one that he can finally hound you for without attracting too much attention. Out of all the women, he seems to like you the least and he isn’t quiet about it, either. While you’re all useless baggage, just many, many more mouths to feed for him - your biggest wrongdoing is not even being nice to look at. Too big, too unpolished, too quiet. Sometimes he acts as though you’re everything he hates distilled into one person, even though that is just another one of his exaggerations. 

 Even in Colter he made off-handed comments about how you'd never starve, how you looked like some kind of grizzly bear all bundled up in your coat and yet you sometimes catch him staring at your cleavage, especially when you have to cover up less than you'd like. He is an animal, nothing more than that. And you know you shouldn’t let his words get to your head but with every word, every crude gesture, every goddamn look at you he tears you down, leaving you to feel raw and wrong all by yourself. He knows too well how to get under your skin and likes to do it just as much.

And it all escalated just days before he, Dutch and Arthur rode out to meet with Colm. He threw you one of his shirts while you were scrubbing away at the tub, already sweaty with the midmorning heat and arms strained with the task, barking something about you fixing it for him. Stunned into silence, you simply let it happen, not even able to utter your usual apologies. You had never seen Arthur storm over quite as fast as he did when you pried the red, mingy fabric from your eyes, having watched from the edge of camp, just as Micah was about to get rough with you. They got into one of their typical squabbles afterwards, only this time you were at the very center of it. Arthur’s gruff tone and curt words had held well against Micah’s sneering and he had finally relented when Arthur threw his own shirt back into his arms. He kept his distance afterwards, seemingly done with his taunts. You know now that he just had found something more interesting to do with his time. Riding out to talk to Colm had sounded like a truly insane idea, even for him, and your worries were confirmed when Arthur barely made it back to the gang, shot up and paler than a ghost. That had been a week ago - and just thinking about it in comparison to your bickering, it feels trivial, almost petty to still be bothered by it. But Micah’s words have touched something in you. His constant reminders of your stature and skill just won’t leave you, especially not when you’re all alone with your thoughts. Maybe it’s why you double down in your care for Arthur, both to thank him for his effort and so that you can focus on something else for once. Like the others, you have spent the last couple of days fretting over him. Sitting by his side in the evenings, silently mending or knitting while the sun is still up and fetching him anything he needs, when he asks for it. He doesn’t say it, but you can tell he likes the company, likes that someone is watching out for him. You can’t imagine what’s brewing in that thick head of his during the days - but it isn’t pretty, not with the way he grunts and whines when he dozes off and leaves you to brood. You usually trudge back to the main fire once he’s out for good, at least when Micah hasn’t already taken up a seat.

And today you’re lucky, so you sit and revel in the heat, your shawl loosely slung around your shoulders to ward off insects and unwanted attention. You left Arthur to snore softly on his cot, calm for once, and the only sounds around you are the soft nickering of the horses and Cain sniffing about, licking up any residues of food on plates and spoons the others didn’t bother to put away. A few members of your posse are missing, scattered about Lemoyne doing odd jobs or drinking, no doubt, and the rest is sleeping. You and Micah are the only ones awake, aside from Bill who’s on guard duty. You’re keenly aware of the fact that the blond is sitting by the scout fire, doing god knows what. He never really sleeps and that makes your nightly ruminations all the more difficult. You're always tense, always feeling his presence behind your back. Furrowing your brows, you poke at the fire with a stick, much like Jack often does.

Maybe it all has to stop? The thought strikes you suddenly, as you move a log. You could simply try to forget about this, especially now that you all have to work a little harder with the gang’s enforcer out of commission, but you doubt that Micah is going to let go of it any time soon. Your mind runs faster than any logical thought. An appeal to his ego could work. An apology? Thanking him? Everything in you bristles at the thought of apologizing to him. It wasn’t your fault - but he did save you, ultimately. If it hadn’t been for his quick aim, you’d be buried somewhere in the red soil near Clemens Point now. And maybe it’s the crux of the issue; that he both caused this and, somehow, resolved it again. You don’t feel indebted to him at all, it’s more of an even bigger annoyance to you. If only you had been a faster draw, then at least you would have something to hold against him. You sit and stew in the notion for a few minutes. Maybe it could really work, could get him off your back. Maybe you would catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, maybe it would give you some sleep back - if you stopped being his favorite target for a little while. And maybe you could forget about this whole thing a little faster without him constantly at your throat. You know that you’re not one for confrontations - especially with quick-tongued opponents like Micah Bell - but you can try a thank you, even a stuttered one. Even if you can already hear Karen scream at you over being even remotely nice to a snake like him, it might just be the right thing to try. You prod at the logs once more, then you swallow your pride and get up, mind quickly made up. 

Micah’s red shirt glows warm and almost orange in the light of the fire. His hair falls forward as he leans into the warmth, seemingly unbothered by your slow approach. He looks peaceful, almost serene and only lifts his head ever so often to sip away at a bottle of unidentifiable liquid, no doubt alcoholic in nature.

He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence when you come to a halt in front of him. Seated on one of the stools, he only spins the bottle in loose circles as he holds it in his lap and you can hear the liquor splashing inside. Still decently full. Both of you say nothing for a couple of heartbeats, then his head finally cocks up and he pulls his left shoulder up to rest one hand on his thigh. You feel all your courage plummet from your stomach to your feet, suddenly bewildered by your earlier thoughts. He says your name with too much flourish and it makes you cringe. “Well, what did I do to deserve the honor?” You fumble with the tassels on your shawl, unsure what to respond and already full of regret for even getting into his line of vision. But it’s too late now - simply turning around and leaving again will only give him more ammunition for tomorrow, you just know it. “I- '', you grasp a handful of thread and stare into the fire, anything to avoid his eyes. “I suppose I wanted to thank you. For shooting that bastard, I mean.” He laughs at that, even if it’s at least a little true. 

“Thank me? Aren’t you the sweetest little thing?” His tone is mean and enough for you to want to turn around again. But you just furrow your brows and finally look back at him, not trusting your mouth anymore. He sighs with fake strain and then chortles. “You know, sugarpie?”, he leans his head back and it leaves his face open, owlish eyes glinting at you. “It only showed me how much of a dead weight you really are.” The double entendre doesn’t go over your head. He’s referencing your statue, as he so often does - and it makes your cheeks sting with heat again, makes you pull an indignant face. But you have no fire to give back, you just break eye contact and grab your shawl tighter. He suddenly swings back, arms spread wide in an attempt at a welcoming gesture -  it’s such an unexpected change in behavior it catches you off-guard. Laughing as though he can read your exact thoughts, he slaps the rock next to him, voice jovial.

“Relax, relax. Come on, have a drink with me.” You eye him warily and he looks right back at you, neck of the bottle tilted in your direction. There is nothing harmful in those big, blue eyes and although something in you bristles against fraternizing with him, you finally take a seat and the whiskey out of his hands. Raising it in a bastardized toast, you sniff the liquor and give him a nod. You take a generous swig, pulling a face as the alcohol burns the back of your throat. His eyes are on you all the while, his whole body leaned over to you, watching you with awe, almost. He is chuckling to himself and you can smell him, even over the terrible sting on your tongue. Like sweat and sun and morass, a day spent in camp, no doubt. He laughs when your lips release the glass, wet and deeply amused. “Good stuff, hm? Come on, woman! Another! Loosen up a little.” It feels wrong, the way he talks, the way he switches his tone around in a second. The only time he’s at least cordial is when he’s drunk but even then he manages to be condescending. The liquor rises to your head immediately, the little food you had in the late afternoon doing absolutely nothing to ward it off. Your cheeks heat up with a more intimate burn than the one from the scout fire, a warmth that isn’t entirely foreign to you. You know this isn’t a good idea, but the thought of enduring his company without at least a slight bit of a buzz to take the edge off is just as unappealing as getting a little too friendly with Micah. He almost cheers you on as you tip your head back again, watching you down another mouthful and shivering after it runs down your pipes.

“That’s better, isn’t it?”, he grins at you and you feel like you’ve never seen him clearer - he’s so close suddenly. There is warmth on your shoulder and you realize it’s his hand, resting on your body as if it’s nothing. “I guess”, you say, before taking another sip, just to get rid of the weird feeling of him touching you. You pass time like this, sharing the bottle between you two. He talks about the job gone wrong, about Colm, about everything and anything, but with every swig from the bottle the chatter washes over you more and more, until it’s just noise. You nod and hum and dig your feet into the soil, the warmth of the alcohol enough to make you pull at your shawl and place it over your lap. His hand has wandered from your shoulder to your thigh, and he squeezes it ever so often, over the fabric of your skirt. It’s too close to your hip, too warm and too heavy and the alcohol makes you keenly aware of it, while not really minding it. It’s an odd feeling, something you almost preen at, something that has your stomach in slight knots. Somewhere, deep down, you know that this isn’t wise, that it’s the liquor working its ways into you but then his fingers twitch and you throw all the caution to the winds. He’s just getting more and more tipsy, you figure, and let him continue. He lets you finish the bottle just as the fire in front of you is slowly dying. You should rekindle it, you know, keep it lit so that Bill won’t have to do it later but you can’t bring yourself to care. The less it burns, the less heat is on your cheeks and the pleasant buzz in your head is just enough to keep you warm. Your eyes are just about to droop from exhaustion and alcohol when his hand slides just a little too close to your crotch, feather-light and careful, awaiting your reaction. You feel so unlike yourself, a spark of something white and hot coming to life deep within your belly. Some tiny part of you is telling you to stave it off, to snuff it out because you’re beside yourself, but it dies off instead when he leans over, his hair almost  tickling the skin of your face.

You glance back at him, a silent question hanging in the air even though you can barely see him in the moonlight.

And to your shame, the whiskey has worked its claws into you. You don’t say anything in response but you lean into his touch, just so.

He looks at you for a heavy second, then inhales and - laughs. It's dark and breathy with liquor, the first time you've ever heard him laugh properly, the sound humiliating. He doesn't need to utter a single word, all he ever could tell you is in his chortling. Disbelief that you want this. Mockery at your undignified state. Heat for you.

It fades into giggles and you want nothing more than to bury your face in your hands. “Come on, sugarpie”, his voice is almost dark, so close next to you. You let him help you up and only notice just how drunk you are when you finally stand, the ground suddenly softer than you remember and your legs clumsy. One step, then two and you already stumble over your own feet. Two rough hands steady you, grab your waist while you breathlessly giggle, your predicament strangely funny to you. Wordlessly, he pulls you towards the treeline, his touch never leaving you. You try your best to keep up but find that you can barely walk straight. If he is annoyed by it, he doesn’t mention it, just wordlessly guides you away from camp. Your head is thick with it, so thick that you can’t stop yourself from speaking.

“Where’re we going?”, you push out and it sounds like someone else is saying it. “A little walk ”, he says, voice so surprisingly sober next to your wobble.

You stumble alongside him, disoriented and mind hazy. Just up through the trees, right by the lake - your thoughts are splotchy and all mixed up, every second step a blur. 

Your eyes feel slow and your body so heavy that the earth has to shake whenever you plant your soles on it, you’re sure of it. You barely notice when he pulls you aside, just far enough from camp to be undisturbed, a little spot that is free from trees, where you can see the stars dance on Flat Iron Lake. Swaying as though you’re dancing to some imaginary tune, you have almost forgotten that he exists again, too caught up in the warmth of the liquor. You don’t even know how you end up on the floor, the world around you spinning with the change in balance, turning and turning and never stopping. Micah is above you and you grip his arms to steady yourself, noises of confusion spilling from your lips like water. “What are you doing?”, you mutter into the darkness, feeling the muscles of his upper arms twitch underneath the fabric of his shirt. “Getting a proper thank you, sweetheart.” His words take a moment to reach you and by the time you open your mouth to answer, he is already nipping at your neck, the hairs of his beard scratchy on the tender skin. A hand fumbles and slips under your skirts - when did he bunch them up in the first place? - and the touch makes it so real, sobers you up.

You're about to make a grave mistake. What had flickered in your stomach just minutes ago were ideas, misguided thoughts - not real desire. Just the alcohol weaving its way into your head, putting things into it that shouldn't be. You try to wiggle away but his grip turns to steel, unrelenting and hard on your shoulders. Tears prick at your eyes as he coos down at you with fake concern, his breaths heavy in between words you don’t hear.

“Stop- Please, Micah-”, you gasp, tongue still heavy with alcohol. Everything seems slow and fast at the same time, even his hands on you don’t hurt as much as they should and yet - you’re terrified beyond belief.

“The liquor already leaving you, sweetheart? A shame. I liked you real bold”, he groans into your ear and you’re suddenly overly aware of the hardness pressed against your clothed inner thigh. “Sh, sh”, he laughs, clamping a hand over your mouth. “Bill's on guard right now, he won't hear you, sugarpie. No use in crowing for that idiot.”

You shake your head against his grip, tears pricking at you eyes. 

“Or are you calling for Morgan?”, he says, even more amused. “Bet you’d like this better if it was him. I’ve seen how you look at him, sugarpie.”

His words stir something in you awake, deep and unsightly. Is he only doing this to get back at Arthur? The thought sours your stomach until you can feel the bile rising and you go limp against him. He takes it as confirmation and almost shakes with fake laughter. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this, sweetheart.” One rough hand brushes over the muslin of your drawers, the other still on your mouth. You can only screw your eyes shut and silently weep against him, can only endure the way his skin warms your cunt through the fabric. It leaves for a few moments and he shifts above you, reaching somewhere - you don’t dare to peek, too afraid of what it might be. “There-”, he grunts, then the muslin strains against the fat of your thighs, pulled upward. It snaps and the unmistakable cold of a blade touches you for a split second. “There we go.” By now your grip on him has slacked, your hands barely holding onto his arms. The futility of trying to stop him sweeps over you like a veil, leaves you numb and weak. You can feel the summer air on your core, the way it cools the heat that the liquor had ignited, the way it gets churned around as he moves your ruined underwear around to gain him access. Thick fingers fumble around until they finally find what they seek and he laughs, deep and ugly. You don’t even sob when he lets go of your mouth to undo his pants. It earns you a throaty good girl as he frees himself and you open your eyes to glance up at him. He’s on you, his form an inky mass against the light of the moon as pushes himself into you, slowly and hissing at every inch. You’re not quite prepared, the alcohol mixed with terror making you dry but he doesn't care. It burns and stings and scratches, and you can feel how tight you are around him, how much you don’t want this. His hands reach up again, cradling your face in almost tender fashion while he savors the feeling. Barely giving you a moment to breathe once he bottoms out, he starts a mounting pace, grunting at every push and pull. You’re rattled with the motion, helpless and almost numb. The liquor dulls the pain but still you can’t help the yelps that leave you; not loud enough for him to care, but just loud enough for him to notice. He bows down and presses a slew of open-mouthed, wet kisses over your face, a bizarre mirror of a loving gesture, and bites you weakly whenever you clench around him in discomfort. It’s a ghastly feeling. “Oh, you're real sweet, darling, real sweet”, he moans out in a shaky exhale. You've never heard him so desperate, so genuine. He sounds grateful, almost loving, yet it’s all a ruse. You only murmur his name in response, lost and teary. You just want him to stop, just want him to get off you and go back to camp. You just want your bed, just want to hear Karen snore next to you. “I know, I know”, he mutters and clutches your shoulders again, grunting before he continues. “You’re so goddamn tight, sweetheart-”

It sounds like he wants to say something else but he chokes on the words before they climb up his throat. Instead, he fucks you harder and you’re grateful that your body finally complies and supplies you with some lubrication. In and out and in again, his full weight snaps against your hips, his thrusts slowly growing sloppy and more shallow. He grips you then, the hardest so far, and buries his face underneath your jaw, keening and sucking at your skin as though his life depends on it. Finally, he spills himself into you, ignoring your weak protests. It’s hot and wet deep within you, the mark of a rotten man. You silently cry as he catches his breath, sweaty face pressed into your neck. Minutes pass like this, him regaining composure and you trying to drown the dread that blossoms in your stomach, too afraid to move. His whole weight is crushing your chest that rattles with sobs, a weight you’ll feel for weeks to come. He slips out of you with a weak groan and heaves himself up to his knees. You feel his seed trickle down, stinging your bruised skin. He says nothing as he tucks himself back in, but you can feel him stare at his work in the moonlight. Patting your thigh, he whistles lowly, much like one would do to a horse and you tense at the gesture. “Now”, he laughs between heavy breaths. “Wasn’t that fun, sugarpie? I should thank you for the good time, hm? Real good time we had.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just adjusts his shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles that have formed. “You're a wild little thing when you’re drunk, you know that?” Another chuckle. He fastens his neckerchief, then palms one of your still-folded knees. “And darling”, he croons, still sucking in the musky air around you like he's suffocating. “Remember: You wanted this. Gave old Mr. Bell something for his troubles, didn't you?” The hidden threat doesn’t go unnoticed. You know how well he can twist his words around Dutch and you have no doubt that if you were to tattle to anyone, you’d be the one getting kicked out of the gang, not him. So you nod.

“Good, good. Don't go telling that big bad”, he grins as he pushes the words out with fake sweetness. “cowboy next thing tomorrow morning, alright?” This time he doesn’t wait for your confirmation, just gets up and stretches himself with obnoxious ease. “See you around, sugarpie.”

His laugh is dark as he strolls back into camp, leaving you behind, empty and still drunk.

End note: I hope you enjoyed it! I have reworked and edited this many, many times so I definitely developed a little bit of tunnel vision. I must have written at least 8k for this in total and revamped every scene at least once and I know that some transitions are a little hamfisted - but I had to finally let this one go, it's been with me two months since its inception and I am just done with it haha. Please be kind when leaving feedback, I am not too confident in this one. And don’t be too shy to chat me up!! I am desperate to talk anything smutty and/or dark for rdr2 with someone!!!

#micah bell x reader #micah x reader #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #chubby reader #tw.noncon #tw.alcohol #tw.coercion #tw.fat shaming #/rdr2 #/micah bell

[jessicamdawn]

I posted 2,734 times in 2022

That's 2,601 more posts than 2021!

35 posts created (1%)

2,699 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@seekingidlewild

@itwasyummy

@kaylizle

@sherokutakari

@kashidoodles

I tagged 1,343 of my posts in 2022

#thai drama - 619 posts

#not me the series - 288 posts

#kinnporsche - 181 posts

#kdrama - 159 posts

#jdrama - 109 posts

#bad buddy - 73 posts

#extraordinary attorney woo - 72 posts

#not me white - 56 posts

#not me yok - 53 posts

#not me sean - 51 posts

Longest Tag: 91 characters

#the bravest thing in the world is being able to tell someone you’re sad or lonely or scared

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Just passed the 20k mark in this Clone!White Not Me AU fic

Feels like a milestone

Officially a Long Fic

6 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

#4

Wednesday, I had a slight sore throat that persisted throughout the day. Since I had other symptoms of dehydration, we figured it was that and I drank A LOT of water and by the time I went to sleep, it didn’t hurt.

Thursday, my throat hurts worse and only sucking on medicated cough drops helps (which also NUMBED MY TONGUE, I thought I’d lost my sense of taste, y’all. I freaked out.) I had a slight cough and slight headache.

Friday, my sore throat was gone, poof. But! lots of sinus drainage, leading to more coughing, And a slight headache that got worse over the day (ended up taking a migraine pill cause it got so bad. was probably a major tension headache from the stress of being ill in some way.)

Saturday, my throat feels fine until suddenly I HACK. It’s like when your body overreacts to an allergen, where even the smallest thing makes you sneezy or itchy or w/e. The smallest thing tickles my throat and I start coughing (that ‘smallest thing’ being so much nasal drainage, or, you know, bread.)

I was coughing so much I started timing it and realized that, if I’m distracted, I can go 5-6 minutes between coughs, but if there’s no distraction, I cough every 40-50 seconds. So some part of it is psychosomatic. The cough is also worse when lying down.

Now it’s 11 PM and I’m congested enough I need to stack pillows to sleep. While I don’t think it’s COVID (my mom was sick first and tested herself and it came back negative), I’ve still been wearing a mask around any other people and sequestering myself when possible.

Please send well wishes and good prayers my way.

7 notes - Posted July 16, 2022

#3

Chapters: 3/12 Fandom: เขา...ไม่ใช่ผม | Not Me (TV 2021) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sean/White, Dan/Yok, Black/Gram, Eugene/Namo, Gram & Gumpa & Sean & White & Yok Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Clones, Clone!White, White is not Black's twin but his clone, becoming a person, Self-Reflection, Vigilantism, Illegal Activities, disability rights, Rule of Law, Mental Link, Physical Link, Falling In Love, SeanWhite's real ship name should be TrustFall Chapter Summary:

White takes part in his first acts of vigilantism with the gang, working for disability rights. In the aftermath, he experiences a violent episode that leaves him gasping and certain he has just drowned on dry land. Concerned, Gumpa insists White stay with him at the garage. Now roommates with Sean, White begins to see a new side of his hotheaded teammate.

11 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#2

Things My Sister Said While I Showed Her “Not Me” Episodes 7-9:

- Todd is sus. Todd is sus when he breathes.

- Sus hair. Sus smile.

- All I hear is -flirt- Officer- we're so wrong for each other. but so right. -passion- flirt-

- I don’t know if I even know what happened in the scene. I think I was having a stroke. It was beautiful.

- Sean is like 'fuck. omg. breathe.’ touching. more touching. went from the knee to the arm. face. this is what friends do. ear. how is sean not freaking out?

- Hey, Google. Call Sus Todd

- Todd’s soy milk is sus

- stfu. I’m dying. I’m screaming. kiss him. fuck. KISS HIM. YES!

- I feel like one of those posts that's like "Yeah, sex is great, but have you ever seen two ex-enemies doing a trust fall and kissing on a rooftop before?"

- Todd is at fault until I say otherwise. Guilty until proven innocent.

- I'm expecting Black to come back and everyone is like "ew. Where's the other guy?"

- (Black slapped White) 😶 Kill him.

11 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Given that both White and Sean do a trust fall to prove their deep trust in the other, and that Sean uses a trust fall to prove that Black is not his Black, I suggest that their ship name is not “SeanWhite” or “WhiteSean,” but “TrustFall.”

15 notes - Posted April 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #It's a lot of Not Me stuff #and a LOT of Thai BL stuff

[switchy-lee-tan]

Who do you ship Schneeplestein with?

I like him with Anti, Chase, Jack, Warfstache, idk I’m a multishipper. Just asking for help with some future t-fic ideas :)

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye egos #dr. schneeplestein #schneeplestein #schneeple #tickle fic #ler!schneeplestein #lee!schneeplestein #chase brody #antisepticeye #sean mcloughlin #warfstache #wilford warfstache #shipping #antisepticeye x schneeplestein #warfstache x schneeplestein #chase x schneeplestein #jack x schneeplestein

[12timetraveler]

Suddenly I'm Holding the World in My Arms

Summary:

Hosea and reader have been together for years. Neither ever expected children, but then again, life doesn't care what we expect.

Notes:

I have been thinking about this fic for a couple months now. In December I had dreams about it at least once a week. Finally I've been able to sit down and write. it. It turned into quite a beast, but I'm absolutely in love.

I tried to stay mostly within canon, placing this before the events of rdr2, but I did add Charles to the gang earlier than he actually joined. No Micah though which is kind of nice, seeing as there are enough lunatics in the gang between Sean, Bill and the Callander brothers. Nice to have one less crazy to write, as fun as he can be.

Chapter 1: Summer 1897

As always below is just a little snip. Read the full thing on AO3

~~~~~~

“Damn. Shit. Hosea,” you panted, arching your back against the soft grass beneath you. Your fingers were tangled in your lover’s silver hair, probably tugging too tightly as he expertly worked your clit, though he didn’t seem to mind. If anything it only spurred him on, alternating between licking and sucking, all while two long, deft fingers stroked your insides, with a third occasionally teasing at your entrance, just enough to make you whimper and wail. “God yes. Just like that. Please don’t stop. <em>Please</em>,” you tugged on his hair a little harder for emphasis, knowing your lover enjoyed teasing you relentlessly. You were already approaching your sixth orgasm for the evening - a feat you’d never accomplished before falling into bed with Hosea but that he loved doing to you time and time again as your relationship had grown - and he hadn’t even unbuttoned his trousers yet. Not a single one of those orgasms had come easily to you, Hosea teasing you right up to the edge before pulling away.

A deep chuckle vibrated against your folds, and you moaned in both pleasure and fear, certain he was going to pull back and drag this out even longer. To your pleasant surprise, he grabbed your thighs tighter, squeezing the ample flesh there, and began working with even more fervor, pushing you closer and closer to number six.

“Yes. Yes. Please. Yes. Hosea. So good. Yes,” You babbled, clutching at the grass beneath you as you felt that coil in your center winding up, ready to snap. You bit your lip, trying to suppress your moans and wails, knowing that even in the middle of this meadow away from any roads, you were still at risk of someone stumbling upon the two of you.

Hosea hummed, letting the vibration tickle your clit, and you were practically sobbing in pleasure. Your hips ground up against his face, urging his fingers deeper into you. He circled his lips around your clit and rubbed his fingers against your g-spot at the same moment, and that was all it took for your orgasm to have you floating amongst the stars with a soundless cry. Your body twitched and jerked against Hosea's grip, but he held on tightly, lapping at your core, gently egging your orgasm on without causing too much pain from overstimulation.

You mewled as you came back to earth. The cool grass beneath you felt incredible against your burning skin. Hosea's careful lapping at your core sent shivers up your body, just enough to light your nerves without causing pain.

"Hosea," you whispered, untangling your fingers from his hair and pressing your hand to the side of his head, trying to guide him up to you.

Hosea lifted his head, pressing sloppy kisses across your abdomen before he obeyed, moving up to hover over you. His shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open and nearly tugged out from his trousers, though you’d been stopped from your earlier attempts at undressing him when he decided he needed to taste you. Again and again and again and–

“Lookit you,” He chuckled fondly as he took in your disheveled state. You could feel how your hair was ruffled and tangled from you squirming against the grass. Your lips were parted as you panted for air. You must look absolutely wonton laying in the grass, dress bunched around your waist.

You whined and grabbed his shoulders, guiding him to lay on top of you, needing that grounding weight of him for a moment as you regained your surroundings. Hosea obliged, gently lowering himself down onto his elbows so more of his weight rested across your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck and snuggled close to him while he kissed along the side of your head and face.

"My God," you sighed against his neck. "Hosea the things you do to me,"

"I could say the same about you," he teased, rolling his hips down against you so you could feel the hot, hard line in his trousers and the small damp spot on the fabric, wet with precum. You groaned as he rutted down against you roughly, unable to stop himself.

"Damn," you whined, fingers quickly tugging his shirt out of his trousers and pushing it off his shoulders. "Hosea, I need you in me. I need you in me <em>now</em>."

Hosea sat back on his heels and you chased him up, attacking his gun belt and setting it aside before frantically undoing the buttons on his trousers. You pushed them and his drawers down his thighs until his bent knees stopped you. Hosea quickly shifted his legs out in front of him, kicking off his boots so you could yank his trousers off the rest of the way.

You easily pulled yourself onto Hosea's lap, grinding down on his hot member. He groaned and pulled you flush against his body, nipping at your neck as your hips ground against each other.

Hosea pulled your dress up over your head and tossed it aside. His large hands came up under your breasts, cupping the heavy weight, the hard peaks of your nipples brushing against his palms as he kneaded the soft flesh. Your lips found his jawline and you nipped and sucked along the skin there, making sure he'd have at least one mark to match the necklace of love bites he'd already given you.

Hosea reached out and grabbed a blanket, which he'd brought for you to lay on and had been promptly forgotten as the two of you ravished each other. Carefully he wrapped the blanket around the two of you, holding it in his hands behind your back. The two of you were curtained, shielded from the world, but fully visible to each other.

You released his neck to capture his lips in a desperate kiss. You gently chewed his lip, making him gasp.

"Come on, sweet thing," he cooed breathlessly. "Ride me,"

#hosea/reader #hosea/f!reader #hosea matthews #f!reader #pregnancy #papa Hosea #dad hosea

[teejaysnow]

I know the traditional birthday gift is birthday smut, but since I can’t write smut to save my life, here’s some birthday fluff in celebration of @ghostcat3000

(Thanks to @modestytreehouse for checking that I haven’t insulted anyone too much [apart from Sean Connery, sorry not sorry] - and to point out that I need to put a bit of a spoiler warning for some of Ghostcat’s fics. Consider yourself warned...)

Anyway, Happy Birthday, D, from Grumpsak, EBN and me.

“Yeah, and then there’s one where you’re a robot.”

Isak pushed himself up on his elbow and gave Even an offended look.

“Excuse me, where I’m a what?”

“A robot. Or a pleasurebot, if you want to get technical about it.” Even hesitated before continuing, “Well, if you want to get really technical about it you’re not really a robot. Or, well, you kind of are? That is, you you have built a robot you. And I fall in love with… well, both of you, I guess?”

“What’s a pleasu… no, don’t tell me, I really don’t want to know,” Isak decided with a quick headshake. He flopped back onto Even’s chest - causing Even to let out a pained huff - and wriggled into a more comfortable position, nuzzling his nose into the opening of Even’s bathrobe before tilting his head reflectively as an idea hit him. “Although do you think I could borrow one of those robot things to do the Graham Norton interview next week? Sana booked us on the early morning flight again, because she’s a horrible, horrible person who enjoys my pain way too much.”

Even scrunched up his nose and moved the obstinate curl that was tickling his chin out of the way before dropping a kiss to the top of Isak’s head. 

“Sana is the nicest person we know,” he tried to argue before meeting Isak’s scandalised look and wisely abandoning the subject. “Anyway, probably not. But you could always leave the bot here so I won’t get lonely while you’re gone?” This suggestion was met with an indignant huff and a retaliatory poke to his stomach, but Even decided it had still been worth it. “Anyway, in another of her stories you’re in a school play.”

Isak stared at Even with the expression of a person who knows he’s about to ask a question he really doesn’t want to know the answer to.

“Ooookay…?” he prodded cautiously.

“Yeah. Romeo and Juliet. Magnus made you audition with him.”

Isak groaned, because… 

“Of course Mags will fuck up my life in every universe, even the fictional ones.”

“So you play Juliet-”

“With you as my Romeo, I take it?”

“Uh uh. Some guy called Bille is your Romeo. I am the director.”

“Of course you are.” Even didn’t even have to check to know that the words were accompanied by an elaborated eye roll. “Let me guess, it’s a modern take of a classic play, very hipster-y with Baz whatshisname vibes, all saturated colours and moody music.”

Even twisted his neck into an uncomfortable angle to be able to give Isak an affronted glare.

“There is more to me than Baz Luhrmann, I’ll have you know,” he pouted. Isak just gave him an unimpressed look in return and Even accepted the inevitable. “Fine, so there might have been some allusions to Baz, but you’re way off on the colours.

To Even’s disappointment, Isak didn’t seem to take the implied “so there” to heart if his sniggers were anything to go by.

“Hipster-y, Baz, Romeo and Juliet? Ooooh, she knows you. And with a more monochromatic colour scale, then? Does that mean she’s another of your black and white movie nerd mutuals?”

“Mutuals? Really? Look at you all down with the tumblr lingo,” Even teased and Isak raised his eyebrows in pretended offense. “And yes, she might reblog the occasional classic movie gif, what about it?”

Even received a quick kiss to his torso as a reward for his honesty.

“Of course she does. Oh my god, you’re such a nerd,” Isak mumbled with an affectionate pat to Even’s chest.

“Anyway, you liked Psycho, does that make you one of my ‘black and white movie nerd mutuals’ too?” Even asked, combing his fingers through Isak’s hair and enjoying the affronted grumble at the question.

“Of course I liked Psycho, the actor who plays that Bates guy is hot. Definitely wouldn’t kick him out of my bed despite all the mummy issues.”

“Anthony.”

“Huh?”

“The actor’s name, it’s Anthony. Perkins.”

“What the fuck? He played the creepy guy in Silence of the Lambs too?”

Even gave Isak a resigned look and another quick kiss to his temple.

“That was Anthony Hopkins, my hopeless little fountain of completely inaccurate pop culture trivia.”

“It was? I thought Anthony Hopkins was the guy who played Bond?”

Even just stared at him for a moment, too aghast to even contemplate a reply.

“Please for the love of god tell me you’re joking,” he finally managed.

“What? Anthony Hopkins, he’s the old, Scottish guy with fucked up views on women, right?”

Even closed his eyes and shook his head.

“That’s Sean Connery, you cultural black hole.”

“Is it really? I thought Sean Connery was-”

“No,” Even interrupted him, putting a hand over his mouth. “Whatever you’re going to say will make me lose all respect for humanity forever. Please don’t ever speak again. Ever.”

Isak giggled as he rolled over and freed himself from the impromptu muzzle, blinking innocently at Even’s unamused expression.

“Come on, of course I know who Sean Connery is. He’s the lesser Bond and the guy who got outacted by Nicolas Cage in The Rock. Great film, by the way. Michael Bay, baby. And it’s in colour.”

“Oh, god…” Even moaned, trying to push Isak off of him. “You come into my house, you disrespect the name of Connery-“

“Two words. Daniel. Craig,” Isak replied confidently as he octopussy-ed himself around Even in an effort to remain on top of him. Even couldn’t really blame Isak for his triumphant expression, because as arguments go? That one was a good one. Admitting defeat, he returned to the previous subject.

“Whatever. What I was saying before you started being annoying was that it’s Ghostcat’s birthday today and you should wish her a happy birthday.”

“Right. Your movie nerd friend.”

“Hey. She also reblog cats. You like cats.”

Isak made a sound that could possibly be described as agreement. Possibly...

“I want to know more about those pleasurebots, though,” he demanded instead. “Show me.”

Had Isak looked up from where he was using his index finger to draw patterns on the part of Even’s chest left bare by the bathrobe, he might have changed his mind - because Even’s grin? Practically diabolical.

“As you wish,” he agreed as he reached for his ipad, tapped on the Safari icon and opened his bookmarks. “As you wish…”

#*sigh* let's post it from the right account this time... #happy birthday ghostcat #hope it's a good 'un #ot #ficlet #my shit #my fics

[aninklingof]

Just a Dream

Hello, I wrote a fic 😊

This is an AU where Dream’s bed is possessed by a tickle monster. There will (hopefully) be at least 2 more parts after (Part 2 here). Also there’s fanart of the scene at the end 😁

Thanks @skylolasaysstuffsblog for proofreading the first part ❤️

Lee! Dream supremacy!!! 💚

Warnings: swearing, slightly intense tickles ✨platonic!✨

Enjoy!

~~~~~

Dream blinked his eyes open slowly. He didn’t know what time it was, but his body told him it was too early to be awake. He willed himself to roll over to go back to sleep but he did nothing more than wiggle a little, seemingly stuck to the bed on his back spreadeagled.

Realizing that he couldn’t move was the kick he needed to gain full clarity. Dream pulled at his wrists but they didn’t move. He lifted his head to look down at his ankles, but his eyes found something much worse.

A tall shadowy blob with purple catlike eyes towered over him from the foot of his bed. Tentacles squirmed over the walls and ceiling— Dream couldn’t tell if they were shadows or not.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” the creature purred.

“Who— wh-what are you..?” Dream stuttered.

“I am the new tenant under your bed. I was just creeping out for a midnight snack, and it seems I’ve found one.”

Dream didn’t like the sound of that.

“Wha-what do you mean t-teNAT—!!” The blonde man squealed and squirmed upon feeling a curious flick from one of the figure’s tentacles against his side.

“Sensitive one aren’t we~?” The creature cooed. “I’m gonna have fun with you~”

More tendrils slithered closer to Dream’s body, stretched out and vulnerable as if he were served up on a silver platter to this monstrosity that seemed to only want to tickle him.

“Wahait wait wait hahang on a sehehECOND—!” Dream shrieked upon feeling dozens of tentacles begin tickling him all at once. He had no idea what was going on or how any of this was possible for that matter, all he could focus on were the velvety wiggling arms that tickled so terribly.

“Does someone have a ticklish tummy~?” The tickle monster teased deviously, a few arms pausing their attack to lift Dream’s tank top and expose his warm skin.

“Ohohohoh gohohohohod plehehehease!! Whahahahat dohohoho yohohohou wahahahahant?!” The blonde man begged between wheezes and squeaks of hysterical laughter. He felt the tip of a tentacle tease the edge of his bellybutton. “FUHUHUHUCK NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!!!”

“Nawww, blondie’s got a tickly tum button does he~?” The shadow taunted excitedly. “Your laughter is much sweeter here, I think I’ll explore that further.”

The dreaded tentacle dipped into Dream’s navel and wriggled around wildly, throwing the poor man into silent shuddering cackles. The torture on his poor belly button was accompanied by several more tendrils teasing his belly and sides, as well as a few wiggling under his shorts to tickle his thighs and into his armpits.

Dream felt like he was losing his mind. It tickled so bad that he simply went limp and laughed. He squeezed his eyes shut and squeals and shrieks wracked his nerves— he was going to die.

And then as soon as it started it stopped. The tickle monster may have said something before it slinked back under the blonde’s bed but Dream couldn’t care. His body still buzzed with the worst residual tickles and all he could do was lay there and let them pass. Somehow in that time he managed to slip back to sleep, exhausted from the intense tickle torture he’d received.

The next time Dream opened his eyes sunlight streamed through the blinds and he shielded himself from the prying light. He rolled over to pick up his phone to check the time, jumping at the small spark of tickly energy that ran down his whole left side as it brushed against the bed.

He squeaked softly and his hand dropped to rub away the effect, his own fingers brushing his bare skin only serving to worsen the feeling.

The memories of the sudden tickle attack in the middle of the night came rushing back to Dream all at once then and he shivered. Was all that real? His shirt was pushed way up and he was super sensitive, but the shirt could be explained away by midnight squirming. As for the sensitivity he had no clue.

After Dream changed into less smelly clothes (seemed he’d sweated a lot that night, odd) he trudged down to the kitchen to find George and Sapnap already awake.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” George greeted. The words sent a chill through Dream’s spine.

“Morning,” he mumbled shyly, his cheeks glowing a faint red as he busied himself with making a bowl of cereal.

“You feeling okay Dream?” Sapnap asked as he set his phone down.

“Hm? Yeah I’m fine,” the blonde answered, wincing at the nervous voice crack that squeaked out of him.

Sapnap stood and walked over to him, placing the back of his hand on Dream’s forehead and cheeks. “You look flushed, are you feeling hot?”

“Sap, I’m fine. Thank you though.” Dream leaned into the younger’s hand gratefully. “Just had a rough night.”

“I heard you giggling in your room late last night,” George spoke up for the first time since greeting Dream, now sitting on the counter sipping a cup of orange juice.

Dream went rigid and chuckled nervously. “D-did you?”

“Yeah. Got up for a midnight snack and heard you giggling your head off,” the brunette explained with a forced neutral face. “What were you giggling at, hm?”

If Dream hadn’t been so caught off guard by George’s sudden input he would’ve probably realized that George could tell something was off with his best friend. However, the blonde’s brain was buzzing chaotically and he couldn’t get his thoughts straight.

“Dream?” Sapnap spoke, his voice still laced with concern.

“What..?”

“You didn’t answer me. What were you giggling at?” George pressed, crossing his arms over his chest impatiently.

“I—“ Dream sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. “I had a really weird vivid dream last night… I think it was a dream at least.”

George and Sapnap shared a look before leading the blonde man to the living room couch and squishing him between them, comforting Dream as he explained his dream embarrassedly.

“That’s pretty wild,” Sapnap said at the end of Dream’s story, his cheeks tinted a slight pink.

“But it was just a dream, yeah? So it’s alright, it’s not real.” George added before squeezing Dream tighter and scratching comfortingly at his curls.

The blonde furrowed his brows in thought, still relaxing a bit from the older’s hand in his hair. “But it felt so… real. It was so bad.”

“Dream, you don’t have a tickle monster under your bed.” George stated firmly, warm brown eyes staring into bright green. “It was just a dream.”

The blonde blinked and looked away. He then nodded and leaned back into George. “Right… just a dream.”

~~~~~

#sean’s tickle fics #Seany’s tword art #lee!dream #dream fanart #dream #tickle monster #tickle fic #myct fanart #myct tickle #georgenotfound #sapnap

[mushiewrites]

Heyheyhey I have something important that I’d like your opinion on friend—!

Tickle tools on Dream’s tum-tum: how would he react to different ones and which would be the worst?

My brain got hooked after reading the Lee Ranboo Ler Aimsey fic where Aimsey was tickling Ran’s back with a hairbrush and I wanted her to get his tummy with it and whenever I think of tummy tickles I immediately think of Dream now so—

Hi hi Sean! (I swear I'm working on prompts everyone I just am not in the best place mentally rn!!!)

I haven't read that fic but feel free to send it my way bc it sounds ADORABLE. But omg yes, any excuse to talk about Dream and his tummy 🥺

IF YOU'RE NOT INTO TICKLE TOOLS PLS KEEP SCROLLING

Feathers:

With Dream, I feel like the soft part would have him giggling quietly, blushing like crazy and hiding his face in his hands because of how flustering something so simple is.

BUT the opposite end - the hard stiff end - has him absolutely squealing. Dragging the pointy end along his tummy, poking along the lower pudge or swirling it around in his bellybutton will have him howling.

Art Supplies:

Think of simple paint brushes - they work enough, almost acting as feathers because of how soft they are (sometimes worse depending on the stiffness of the bristles).

However, a paint brush with paint / markers are a little more flustering. Not only does it tickle more, causing Dream to squirm and try and grab at the ler's wrists, he's unable to fight back due to the fact that the "art" would get messed up. And after, Dream has to look at all the "I'm ticklish!" "Tickle me here!" "Death spot!" and all the other writing left by the ler. (Bonus flustered Dream: realizing that the ler has to now scrub the ink / paint off)

Electric Toothbrushes: So I don't ever see these in fics (at least in this lil community), but I can vouch that this is the meanest thing EVER. So I imagine the bristles on the toothbrush without it turning on would make Dream break into high pitched giggles, trying not to squirm away because he likes the way it feels against his skin. But as soon as they switch it on, and the bristles begin swirling, he screams, wheezing and thrashing and bucking his hips to get it away as it slowly works its way towards the middle of his tummy. And when it makes its home pressed inside his bellybutton, he goes silent, tears forming in his eyes as he squeezes them shut, going limp because of how bad it tickles.

I hope this was okay I didn't proof read and wrote this while multitasking.

#lee!dream #an inkling of #asks #thank u sean for the lil questions i love dream n his tummy so so much #mushie concepts / hcs #my stuff #mcyt tickle

[sleepy--anon]

Day 19: Arms Up

Reserved by @aninklingof

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

Reservations are all taken now

Little intense

George really couldn't tell you how he agreed to this, some may say his competitive nature, some may say his want to prove others wrong. The situation in question? Dream and Sapnap challenged him to keep his arms up while they tickle him. The two had boxed him in on his bed, Dream pressed up behind him and Sapnap straddling his lap. Completely crowded by the two bigger boys had George feeling extremely weak, he knew if he changed his mind about the challenge he would have to pray that they'd be merciful enough to let him up.

"Ready Georgie~?" Sapnap purred, setting a timer on his phone.

"How long are you setting that for?"

"5 minutes." Dream hummed, sliding his hands up his back to squeeze his shoulders. It was a well known fact that if him or Sapnap were teamed up on that Dream was the kinder one. Sapnap had his moments too but he's usually more ruthless with George because George shows him little to no mercy himself. George felt like he was vibrating from the inside out, it was no secret that he was the most ticklish of the three and yet he carried himself like the opposite. Sapnap showed him the phone, letting him approve the time shown before placing it on the bed, a safe distance away from them. He tapped his elbows, making quick eye contact, checking for any second thoughts. Sapnap was always considerate and had fantastic eye communication which George was always silently greatfull for. He slowly locked his fingers together, pressing them to the back of his head, taking a big breath and pushing his chest out a bit.

"Ready?" George gave a firm nod, giving Sapnap a 'do your worst' look, ok maybe that's why he's so merciless with George. Dream started with lightly dragging his fingers down his arms, Sapnap scoffed at how he already twitched, twisted, and scrunched his face up.

"This will end rather quick~" He crooned, pressing start on the timer. He slipped his hands under George’s shirt, feeling him jump and gasp.

"Yohohour hahahands are cohohohold!" Sapnap mumbled a quick and quiet apology, leaning back when George’s elbows came in, narrowly missing his face. Dream had slipped into the sleeves of his t-shirt and Sapnap had brushed his lower ribs. The both smirked at each other, hearing his rather frantic giggles. Sapnap and Dream both leaned in to each ear mumbled teases at a volume low enough to rumble in his ticklish ears. Then in complete contrast to Dream’s slow, methodical, gentle fingers, Sapnap dug into his bottom ribs. George shrieked, flinging himself back into Dream, his legs trying to come up. They say his hands flex, yet they stayed put.

"YOHOHOU'RE UHUHUHNFAHAHAIR!"

"My whole job is to make you drop your arms George, so what I'm hearing is I'm doing a great job, thank you~!" He flicked his eyes between Dream and the timer which was a little over 45 seconds. They both went for the kill, Dream knuckling George’s ribs with his big hands, and Sapnap prying George’s elbows apart so he could blow raspberries on his neck and nibble at his ears. George kicked out violently behind Sapnap before his arms slammed down, shoving Dream’s hands and Sapnap’s shoulders. Both pulled back, letting George stue in his after tickles.

"So close George, if you had just held out for 10 more seconds-"

"I would've died! That was torture, I still feeling your beard and teeth on my ear!" George whined, rubbing his ear and neck. A blush formed on his cheeks as he pulled both boys arms around him as he relaxed into them. Hushing them if they said anything.

#mcyt tickle fic #mcyt tickle #dsmp tickle #lee!george #lee!georgenotfound #ler!dream #ler!sapnap #augtickletober2023 #sleepy's fics #aninklingof #sean tag

[ewritesthangs]

I really love your last corpse fic, it was really soft and comforting. For your next drabble, could your write something about playing video games with him?

Giggles filled the apartment as you squirmed. You were being tickled by your boyfriend, Corpse. He only smirked and continued on with his torture. Fingers tickling you, causing you to squeal.

"I give! Please!" He stops his torture and let's you regain your composure.

"I win. Means you play with me."

"Alright alright. I'll play a game. Just nothing thats gonna scare the piss out of me. Mark did that to me once and let me tell you he got a black eye from my head."

"Noted." He chuckles and kisses your forehead.

"Lips down here." He licks his lips before pressing a soft, supple kiss to your lips. He rubs your noses together.

"You make me happy."

"I love you, sappy dork."

"I love you more."

"Lets not rehash this argument." You giggle and sit up slowly.

"Lets playyyyy um hmmmm, among us?"

"Again?"

"Its so fun!"

"True. True. Okay. But I only have my phone."

"Come play as me, with me, while I'm playing with the guys."

"Okay." You shrug, agreeing. Wanting to be engulfed in his embrace for a few hours. You could never get enough of him in any way. Him holding you, singing to you, being with you. You guys walk together to his recording room. You waddle inside, waiting for him to sit so you could sit.

He opens his discord and the game. You hear Sean first. Then felix.

"Fucking hell he better not kill me first this time."

"I will. Don't you worry your little butt, Jack." Felix laughed out.

"Hey guys! Did you miss me?"

"Hey Y/N/N! Where is your-?"

"I'm playing with corpse. Im staying with him so he said I could play as him."

"Hey guys. Im here."

"Hes being kind enough to let me play a little as him. Hes gonna help me win." You giggle maliciously.

"I did not like that laugh." Sean says with a chuckle.

"Here we go, 2 imposters in one avi." Felix beams, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Be happy youre graced with my presence." You smirk.

"Alright true." Sykkuno was always so nice.

Shhhhhhhh

Crewmate

2 imposters among us

You were running around, doing some tasks. You make Corpse do the card swipe so he got more practice. He gets it the first try. "Good job babe! I'm so proud!" You beams, sarcasm lacing your voice.

"Yeah I owned that shit. Watch out, I sus Toast."

"Dont you like always sus toast?" His hand lays atop yours while you are using the mouse. He helps you get the asteroids for thats always your hardest one to do. You don't get killed but Sean did and Sykkuno reports the body.

"I sus Corpse. They have been faking tasks." Felix says.

"Have not! We've been doing tasks all along. Im just bad at asteroids so Corpse here is helping me." You pout.

"I'm only joking Y/N. Calm down." He chuckles.

"Okay where is the body?"

"By the gas tank thing. Bottom left storage."

"Toast has been acting weird." Corpses voice booms through the mess of people talking. He stays silent for a moment.

"I've been doing card swipe."

"Hey thats my line." Corpse laughs out.

"But I was actually doing it. I was in admin. Charlie can vouch for me."

"Actually i dont remember seeing you but its possible." Greaseball states.

"Were voting toast!"

"No don't do it."

"Speedrun!"

"I'm going for blood." The familiar Irish accent cheers.

Toast was ejected .

You take your avi over to electrical where Charlie was. He alone. Then Sean comes in and does the lights. Once you finish your tasks you leave, but the doors are closed.

"Oh my God were gonna die! Charlie no!" You scream, in hopes that, telepathically you can get him to not kill you. He doesn't but a body was found and reported by Sean.

"Rae, care to explain what just happened?"

"Uh you killed poki."

"Uh no. You did. I saw it with mine own eyes."

"Guys he stabbed poki! I saw it happen!"

"Ummmmmm uh yeah I dont know who to believe. Corpsey?"

"Hmmm, I believe Sean. I saw Rae acting sus awhile ago."

"Yeah thats right!" Sean yells. Corpse pulls your hand towards Rae and votes for Rae to be booted off. So does everyone else.

Valkyrae was ejected.

Victory.

"I knew it!" You clap happily, wiggling in Corpses lap. He chuckles and kisses your head.

"You're too cute. I love you." You gasp.

"Wait, you do?"  You feign innocence.

"Uh yeah? How could I not?"

You blush and turn to press a kiss to his lips. "Feelings mutual."

"They do know they're unmuted right?"

Tag List: @the0nlychrissy

#corpse husband imagine #corpse husband

[jsidetickles]

still taking requests for tickle headcanons or a scenario for a tickle fic involving Sean, Daniel and/or Esteban. The creative juices are building up but they need a jump start. Lol

#please comment or send in my inbox #don’t just like #life is strange 2 #lis2 #lis 2 #sean diaz #daniel diaz #esteban diaz #fanfic #headcanon #requests are open

[rodeo-boots]

Heya! If your requests are open (if not ignore this) could you write up some fluffy date (sfw) hcs for Sean and Javier ( I just remembered how much I loved that fic you wrote and it really made me like that pairing) and/or for my boys Dutch and Arthur? Whatever you feel like ☺️

They're open rn, no worries!! But even if they weren't, writing for Javier and Sean is always a pleasure and therefore no problem at all <3 I've never written headcanons like these though, so I hope they turned out okay!

I'll keep everything under the cut, only so peeps don't gotta scroll all the way through if they ain't wanna read this

Whose idea was it to go out on a date in the first place? Javier's of course.

Sean probably laughed at him when he told him, insisting how the both of them weren't all that "cheesy" – but Javier is stubborn, and as soon as he had heard that Sean had never been taken out on a proper date in his life, he made it his responsibility to make up for that

Initially, they had wanted to do things properly, to go by the book; candlelight, a table for two and all. But since neither Sean nor Javier have the patience for rich people, or the money to afford a table at some fancy place in Saint Denis, they decided to keep things simple.

Instead of going out, they chose to have a picnic at the shore of Flat Iron Lake, just a couple feet away from camp (because, well, it's the best location they came up with on the spot, and Javier felt better not wandering too far away from the others)

Their proximity to camp wouldn't take any of the magic of a first date away, though, the both of them seating themselves upon a ratty blanket once the sun begins sinking, the fish Javier had caught in preparation of their dinner sizzling over the flames of their small campfire.

During their shared meal, Javier doesn't even complain about Sean's chewing sounds, sneaking him one adoring glance after the other, a little less inconspicuously than he might think.

And Sean? He basks in the attention, cracks one joke after the other, being his usual self while Javier tries holding onto some sort of romantic atmosphere. Truthfully, he doesn't mind a second of Sean's act, loosening up gradually as soon as he realizes that they don't have to pretend to be someone they aren't – and that there's no rules they have to follow when it's only the both of them together.

Because whenever they’re together, it’s hard for Javier to not get infected by Sean’s upbeat persona, finding himself smiling a lot more often than he would around most other people.

Sean regularly can't sit still, always moving at least one of his muscles wherever he is, but this time, it's him who asks Javier to admire the sunset with him, and him whose arm sneaks around Javier's shoulders. And no matter how differently Javier had thought their dinner would go, he couldn't have hoped for a better outcome, easily resting his own head against Sean's where they sit, murmuring one thing and the other once their conversation grows quiet and honest.

It's a surprise to Javier, when Sean raised his voice to speak his thanks; For the evening they had shared as well as his presence in his life. As such, he can't help himself but nudge him, and mumble something along the lines of, "Don't start weeping now, Macguire." In the end, the moment touched Javier just as much, however, even if Sean tackled him for what he had said, and tickled a more fitting response out of him until Javier begged him to stop.

At the end of the night, the both of them pass out contently, wrapped in one another's arms, but only after sharing another few sleepy kisses and mumbled declarations of love.

Maybe they awaken to Uncle stuffing his face with their leftover pieces of fish – maybe not, but the next morning, Sean greets Javier with a bright smile anyways, asking, "So, when're we doin' this again?"

#rdr2 requests #red dead redemption 2 #javier escuella #sean macguire #javier/sean #i genuinely hope those are alright #its a little short but i havent written in... long #head empty #my writing

[poesparakeet-fics]

Gilmore’s Glorious Giggles

Vox Machina Critical Role Tickle Fic for @wordstrings!

Vax/Gilmore AU where their relationship went further than it did, I guess? I’m a little rusty!

Warnings: Alcohol/ drug use

Words: 1563

“You’re a bad man, Sean Gilmore.”

Gilmore’s bedroom was immeasurably soft, polishing away all the rough edges and grit the world left behind. It’s why Vax had wandered away from his equally battle-worn family, through a chill night full of tension and unease, to a familiar door in a familiar bazaar.

Gilmore never threw open the door and cried out his name on these visits. The door would open, flooding the walk with warm light and perfumed air. Dark eyes would find him, a wry smile would cross his face, and he would gesture Vax inside.

That night, Vax felt sluggish. He floated for a moment in the thick air, the heat from the fire and the scent of exotic perfumes hitting him like sleeping gas. He heard Gilmore shut the door behind him, then a swift clink of a glass being filled before being pushed into his fingers. They usually drank wine together, but on nights like tonight, they would start with a shot. 

He leaned back a little, humming with satisfaction when his back hit the warm, solid weight of Gilmore’s chest. A low chuckle from behind his ear. The other man’s arms wrapped around him to form a welcoming embrace before reaching up to unfasten his cloak. The garment felt like a great weight being pulled off.

Vax didn’t have a great taste for hard liquor, so he took the glass down in two long gulps, pausing in between to feel the rising burn in his chest and the soothing motion of Gilmore’s hands as the arcanist unwrapped him like a gift. Thick fingers over smooth palms found the buckles of his armor, pulling the leathers away to leave him in the linens he wore underneath.

By the time the burn from the liquor died, his armor was placed neatly to the side with his cloak, and Gilmore was stepping in front of him, arms open. Vax leaned forward to rest his head on the other man’s shoulder, letting thick arms wrap him up with his shot glass still dangling.

“Hello.” Gilmore’s voice was soft, purring.

“Hi.” Vax sighs, not yet ready to open his eyes.

“You know I’m always up for a cuddle, darling, but let’s have a seat, hm?”

He steered Vax to a plush sofa, feeling the radiating heat of the fire on his one side. The glass is taken from him, and he misses Gilmore’s warmth for a moment before the other man joins him. The glass has been refilled and set on a polished tabletop nearby. 

Once the other man takes his seat, Vax buries his face in his chest with a sigh. His limbs interlock with Gilmore’s, and he just breaths.

“Oh, Gill…” he groaned. He didn’t know where to start. He didn't want to start.

“Hush,” Gilmore murmured, one large hand stroking Vax’s hair. “I guessed I might get a visit from you tonight, you know. You were all carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders when you came by the shop.”

Vax just nods. 

“Poor thing. Do you want to talk about it?”

Vax shakes his head no. Hard. He could talk about it with Vox Machina. He could whisper all his worries and sins into Pike’s ear if he had to. Gilmore’s home was clean, free of all that.

Gilmore hums in acknowledgment, body twisting to reach for something on the sideboard behind him.

"Why don't you get started on this, and I can talk as long as you wish."

Vax opens his eyes, momentarily surprised that they had closed at all. Gilmore was holding out a long, thin cigarette rolled in yellow-gold paper. 

Vax adjusts so he's facing upward, careful to maintain as much contact as he can with Gilmore. His hands shake when he balances the cigarette between them and Gilmore lights a match. 

He'd never liked pipeweed much. But Gilmore's stash was always the very finest, and he's developed a taste for the good stuff. 

Vax watched the plumes of smoke rise in front of him, set aglow by the firelight. The comforting weight of Gilmore's arms settled around him.

"So you'll recall Fain as the oldest son of Urial's brother Cardwin, and he is now in a position to enter the merchant's council, but…"

Three puffs, pass. Gilmore would only have one drag before handing it back. 

"And Cordil was all ready to take the spot, but…"

Three puffs, pass. Repeat.

Vax's limbs grew heavy. As the cigarette reached its end, he remembered the liquor on the table and downed the glass in one this time. 

"How are you feeling, dear boy?" Gilmore's voice broke out from the haze of idle gossip. 

"Fine. Good. Good." 

"Mmm. I'm so glad to hear it. How sober are you?"

Vax laughed at the question, the sound coming out a little harsh. 

"Not very. A… 2. Out of 20."

"Wonderful! That's probably slowed you down enough for me to do this."

One hand safely rescued the shot glass from Vax's fingers, the other arm wrapping around his rib cage to pull him in close, his neck and ears suddenly under attack from a volley of soft lips and rough stubble.

"SEAN!" It's a shriek, he can't deny it. He wasn’t not quite laughing yet, but breathless, his face twisted into something between hysteria and a stubborn sulk.

Gilmore gets a faceful of Vax's long hair when his captive thrashes. Vax kicks his legs only to be scooped most of the way into Gilmore's lap with two thick arms wrapped around his chest, fingers worrying at his ribs. Gill finally manages to fight past Vax's hair. 

"OH. NO! THE BEHEEHEEARD! THAT BEARD, YOU MONSTER! NOOoo!"

With that wail, he was laughing. He'd been ready to make Gilmore work for it this time, but the damn facial hair had broken him. 

Gill just chuckles into the shell of one sensitive, pointed ear. 

"Oh, I grew it just for you darling."

Bless Gilmore. Bless him for pretending not to know that Vax could easily slip his hold, even absolutely hammered. Bless him for never, ever mentioning that this happened every time, and Vax still kept coming back. Bless him for accepting whatever Vax was willing to give him and never asking for more. 

Vax was starting to lose his breath, and possibly his mind. He rallied what little focus he could to try and pry Gil’s arms away from his ribcage, only to expose himself just enough for the attack to shoot upward into his armpits. He wasn’t sure if it was the surge of panic or the force from his tea-kettle squeal that propelled him to his feet, but he went with it, making to run down the length of the long sofa and escape Gil’s wicked fingers.

He barely made it a step.

“Nope,” one big hand clamped around his ankle, tripping him expertly back onto the cushion face-first while its partner wrestled with his sock, “I don’t think you’re quite done yet.”

“Nohoho!” Vax cries, kicking his feet. “Leave that! Please!”

“Oh darling, one little sock isn’t going to save you.” 

Gilmore sounded relaxed and amused, as if he were pouring Vax another drink rather than wrestling him down and tickling him silly. With the sock out of the way, he started to spider manicured nails across Vax’s sole, starting at the heel and working upward at a torturous crawl. As his fingers climbed, so did the hysteria in Vax’s cackling laughter.

“No!” Vax was squealing again, and beyond caring. “Fiend! Scoundrel! No no no NO NO TOES PLEASE!”

Gilmore chuckled, about to retort when--

*Whap*

One of Vax’s feet finally jerked out of his grip and caught him in the jaw. Vax gasped as best he could, still breathless.

“Sean? I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

“I’m just fine,” the other man answered, rubbing his jaw “It’s your poor foot you should be worried about.”

Vax followed his frowning, thoughtful gaze to the appendage in question. 

“What? No, my foot’s fine, I--” 

He cut himself off, catching the wicked smile that was creeping across Gilmore’s expression. He had a split second to take a deep breath before it all came out of him in one shrieking fit of laughter. The smile aside, Gil provided no warning before snatching the offending foot and rubbing the underside of his chin all over Vax’s toes. 

If Vax were able to form words at that point, he would have bellowed that NO he was NOT SORRY actually, because Gilmore was a fiend who deserved every kick to the face he got while that atrocious instrument of torture was attached to him.

By the time he started to lose his breath and Gilmore slowed down, though, all he could gasp was “Stop! Stop, I have to pee. Bastard.”

Gilmore released him with a grin, leaning back to recline on the couch.

“Fair enough, I did ply you with liquor. You look just about finished anyway.”

Vax took a moment to catch his breath.

“You are a bad man, Sean Gilmore.”

“Am I?” Gilmore answered with a little smile. “Get yourself to the loo before I decide you were faking it and prove you right.”

Vax moved quickly toward the head. He hadn’t been lying, the liquor was going right through him. 

“Bed or bath?” Gilmore called about behind him.

“Bed, please.”

He didn’t need a bath. He felt clean.

#Tickle fic #Tickling #Critickle Role #CR #Vax'ilmore #vax'ildan #tw alcohol #tw drugs