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trashyswitch · 6 months

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Day 30: Caught

SCP-049 and SCP-999 get to have yet another playdate together! They are watched by Dr. Itkin, and things go relatively smoothly compared to the last visit.

Part 3 of 049 and the 'Unkillable' Creature. Link to Part 2

049 and 999 are back together again! I hope you enjoy!

SCP-049 waited patiently for SCP-999 to arrive to his room. He had cleaned up his things to prevent 999 from getting at his tools. Their last visit was evidence enough that 999 was too young to handle such sharp tools. The last thing he would want, was for 999 to hurt someone during one of its curious states. SCP-049 brought out a couple toys he had collected for the last while. These toys included a ball, a kids’ keyboard, and a coloring book with crayons. Though he had played with the toys a little bit by himself, he had specifically collected them for SCP-999. “SCP-049?” Someone called. SCP-049 looked up. “999 is here?” 049 asked.

“Yes, he is. Are those toys for 999?” Dr. Itkin asked.

“Yes. SCP-999 is a dog-like creature that resembles the intelligence of a child at 3 years old. I have no doubt that 999 will enjoy these toys.” SCP-049 explained.

“Very well. Sending in 999 now.” Dr. Itkin said as he clicked a button. The door slid open, to reveal 999 sliding through the door frame. “999!” SCP-049 reacted, opening its arms and kneeling down to its level. 999 slid itself past the toys, straight up to 049 to give him a big hug. 049 happily took the hug, and allowed 999 to knock him over onto his backside. “Oof…Hello, 999. It is a pleasure to see you again.” SCP-049 greeted.

999 nuzzled the right side of its face and cheek against 049’s mask. “I missed you too, 999. I missed you a lot.” 049 admitted.

999 opened its eyes and started planting kisses onto SCP-049’s mask.

“Oh? I did not know you give people kisses.” 049 admitted.

999 smiled and looked at 049 with starry eyes. It gurgled happily and wrapped its pseudopods around SCP-049 happily.

“Oh my…” 049 chuckled and hugged 999 back. “I suppose some greeting hugs are required.” SCP-049.

SCP-999 nuzzled its face further into 049’s mask, hoping to tickle the SCP’s neck a little bit. But 999 quickly noticed that the mask lacked the nerves to make him laugh. So, 999 brought out a 3rd pseudopod and moved it through the cloak’s hood.

“What-” 049 widened his eyes under the mask as the pseudopod shoved itself down his hood. “W-Wait! Gahaha! NOHO! Nine-nine-nihihine!” 049 reacted.

999 gurgled happily and closed its eyes, looking almost proud of itself for getting 049 to laugh.

“Nohoho tihicklehehes! Yohohou knohohohow thihihis!” 049 reminded it.

“I hope it helps to know that SCP-999’s favorite activity is tickle-wrestling.” Dr. Itkin told him.

“Ihihi knohohow! Ihit’s kind of obviohohous.” 049 admitted.

“Though, 999 has enjoyed playing with rubber balls.” Dr. Itkin added.

Looking around, 049 reached out for the orange ball that was laying on the ground. He had to fight his inner instincts to try and get the ball, which proved to be somewhat difficult. 049 wasn’t used to being tickled anymore. 999 was the only friend he really had these days.

Finally, 049 touched the ball and gripped the ball with his gloved hands. He waved the ball at 999, hoping to get its attention. “999, look!” 049 declared, shaking the hollow ball.

999 looked at the ball with starry eyes, and let out something similar to an “Ooooh!” sound.

“Doho you want to play with it?” He asked.

SCP-999 clapped its pseudopods together as the third pseudopod removed itself from his hood. SCP-049 let out a breath of relief. Thank goodness…the tickles are over. 049 threw the ball to the other side of the room, and watched as 999 slid across the floor to the ball. The pseudopods caught the ball like a baseball glove, and carried the ball back to 049. Happy with itself, 999 gave it to 049 and did a little bouncy dance.

049 stared at it, surprised to see it react like that. “Is…that your version of a happy dance?” 049 asked it.

999 nodded its head and purred.

SCP-049 chuckled and threw the ball again. “Go get it.” He told it.

999 slid to the ball and caught it with its mouth this time! 999 carried the ball back to 049 like a puppy, and dropped it to the ground.

“Let’s try something different.” 049 decided. “I throw it, and you throw it back to me.” 049 suggested.

999 did a small happy dance as it moved back a little bit. 049 threw the ball to 999, and 999 caught it with its pseudopod again. But this time, 999 threw it overhand back to him. 049 was able to catch it with little issue, and threw it over to 999 again. 999 caught it, and threw it over to 049 once more.

“Whoa!” 049 reacted, catching it in front of his face. “You nearly hit me.” SCP-049 reacted. “A little softer, okay?” 049 asked as he threw it.

999 caught the ball with its body, and took it out using a new pseudopod. Then, 999 threw the ball to 049 slightly roughly.

049 caught the ball again, and threw it slightly above 999, so he could see if 999 would catch it with the pseudopod. But to 049’s surprise, 999 rose itself up and caught it with its gelatin body! The ball floated in the body, looking almost invisible due to the similar color of 999 and the ball.

Then, 999 lifted itself up, and took in a ‘breath’. Suddenly, the ball shot right out of 999, and went flying towards 049!

049 quickly jumped out of the way to save himself from the fastball that had moved his way. He fell to the ground as the ball bounced off the wall, ricocheting, and hitting 999 right in the face! 049 looked up at 999 with shock, worried 999 got hurt. But 999 just sat there…staring off into space with the rubber ball in its cranium. “Oh dear-” 049 ran up and pulled the ball out of 999’s head. “Are you alright?” He asked.

999 looked up at 049, with an innocent little smile on its face. It gurgled happily and stretched itself up, surpassing 049’s height by a long shot. 049 was dumbfounded. What…in the world was 999 doing?!

The creature of jelly suddenly surrounded his body, and engulfed him within its orange body. The only thing that was not engulfed was his head. “Uuhhh…999?” He called.

The creature looked down at 049, with an innocent, but secretly wicked smile on its face. And then…049 began to feel tickly sensations on his belly, neck, ribs, even his feet.

“Uuuhuhuhuh- HeheheHEHEHEHAHA! NIHIHINE-NINE-NIHINE! NOOOHOHOHO!” 049 shouted.

999 just gurgled and cooed, jiggling its large body around playfully as it tickled him.

049’s body flopped around, going from a standing position to a sitting position. His arms and legs were flopping around inside the gelatin-like substance that was SCP-999. “IHIHIT’S SOHOHO TICKLIHIHIHIHISH!” 049 yelled at them.

“999, please don’t tickle him for long.” Dr. Itkin ordered.

999 gave the camera something similar to a human’s thumbs up with its pseudopod, before looking at 049 again with that same ‘innocent’ smile.

“WHAHAHAHAT HAHAHAPPENED TO PLAHAHAHAYING BAHAHALL!?” 049 asked, confused.

999 just shrugged its gelatin shoulders.

“It looks to me that SCP-999 just wanted to play something else.” Dr. Itkin mentioned to him. “YEHEHEAH, IHIHI KNOHOHOW THAHAHAHAHAT!” 049 shouted back.

“Now now, there is no need to be snippy with me.” Dr. Itkin told him. “Such behavior is not tolerated here, and there will be disciplinary actions against you if you act out too much.” Dr. Itkin reminded SCP-049.

“OHOKAHAY, OKAHAHAHAY! IHIHI’M SOHOHORRY!” He told the doctor.

“Apology accepted. Have fun~” Dr. Itkin teased into the microphone, before a small bit of feedback rang through the room. 049 immediately sensed he knew what this feedback meant: He’s all alone now…being mercilessly tickled by 999. And while this would’ve annoyed him to no end…something in his mind was beginning to shift.

It didn’t help that 999 was now starting to emit comforting smells of bread fresh out of the oven. It smelled heavenly and started to make him feel hungry…but the hunger for such a thing, couldn’t really be satisfied due to the time period he was in. It was…almost a heartbreaking reality for him. Though, he knew 999 didn’t mean to make him sad when he emitted those smells. And truthfully, he really couldn’t be sad right now with all the tickling he was experiencing.

“NINE-NINE-NIHIHINE! THIHIS IHIS CHIHILDIHIHISH! AHAHAHAHAHA- PLEEHEEHEEHEEASE!” He begged.

999 must’ve noticed something was off…because 999 stopped the tickles and looked at him with…a worried face?

049 took in deep breaths to recuperate from the laughter fits he had experienced. He looked at 999 with relief, mixed with a little bit of confusion. “Hohow…how did you…” He started to ask.

999 brought 049 up onto a standing position, and let 049 escape from its grasp. When 049 fell out of the orange body, he practically flopped onto the ground in pure exhaustion. It looked like 049 couldn’t keep himself on his feet for very long.

Wanting to apologize to 049 for overdoing it, 999 slid up to him and wrapped its pseudopods around him before nuzzling its cheek into 049’s chest. 049 seemed to appreciate this action. “Th…thank you, 999. Thahanks.” He told the creature.

999 gurgled happily in response and continued to cuddle its tall friend.

“Thank you for your consideration, 999.” Dr. Itkin told the creature. “We will reward you with some candy as a midnight snack.” The doctor told 999.

999 looked over at the snack box, and heard a package of skittles land in the snack box. 999 looked up at the camera, before hanging its ‘head’ for a bit.

After a few minutes of thinking, 999 looked over at the snack box and took out the skittles and…handed 049 the bag…

Wait, what?!

049 looked at 999. “You…want ME…to have the candies?” 049 asked.

999 nodded its ‘head’ and gurgled happily in response.

049 looked down at the skittles, before gently ripping the package open. He pulled a red one out and stared at it. “A…comfit?” 049 asked, mistaking it for a fruit, nut or seed covered in sugar. Curious of its taste, 049 put it under the mask, and chewed the candy. It was a little chewy, but super sweet! Holy- it was SO SWEET! It was like he had eaten 5 tablespoons of honey all at once! It felt like he may throw up from how deafeningly sweet this one tiny piece of candy was!

“......May I try another?”

#playing catch #rubber balls #playful #tickle wrestling #tickle fights #augtickletober2023 #tickletober 2023 #ticklefic #ler!999 #lee!049 #fluff

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bearhugz · 2 years

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Let's watch pro wrestling and wrestle each other while we watch it~~💪

#tickling #ticklish #tickle #tickles #tickle community #tickling community #t-word community #tickle fight #tickle wrestling

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ukticklishtickler · 2 months

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Going up London this weekend if anyone is interested in a tickling session with me, drop me a message 😁 🪶

#tickle community #tickling #uktickle #feet #feet tickling #socktickling #tickle wrestling

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tickleyoutickleme · 5 months

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Dream or nightmare?

#wrestling #tickling

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willowser · 5 months

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i just think katsuki is a very pinch their nose, tug on their ear, squish their cheeks, grab their whole face in his hand, hold them upside down by the ankles, put them in a headlock kind of dad.

#and the whole time he's listening to you talk about your day with a straight facr #*face #they're screaming and giggling and having a ball and he's just so casually got his child in a headlock #has their hands in one of his own and is tickling their lil pits #totally straight faced #and he's always doing it to them #even when they're older and in their teens he still tugs on his daughter's ponytail and she gets all DAD STOP #or he walks past your son and flicks him in the ear #wraps and arm around his neck until he can get out LOL #he's a BULLY !!!#he'll always be a BULLY !!!!#and then when he does it to you—they're both climbing all over him to get him off 🥺#katsuki wrestles you onto the couch and your lil knight in shining arm son charges him and climbs on his back and yells #LET GO OF MY MOMMY !!#and whacks him in the ear LOL #WAAAHHH #cw children #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: dad bakugou

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silentsamlikesham · 6 months

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I was surprised there wasn't more fics like this for the fandom. Macho boys need to be soft sometimes....

Zoro x Sanji

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Sanji’s shoes click rhythmically off the cobblestone pavement as he stalks towards the ship. His eyes watch the cracks in the ground and the uneven bumps in the stones until they fall away to crooked lines etched into the wood of the dock.

He doesn’t lift his head as seagulls circle him, their sharp eyes catching the few bags Sanji has dangling from his wrists. He doesn’t take in the sight of sailors throwing barrels onto ships or jostling past him in a hurry to grab more rope, and food and booze from the carts that sit on the edge of the ships.

He doesn’t flinch when the seaside breeze cuts through his hair, plastering it across the wrong side of his face as he climbs onto the Merry. Not even the splash of sea water from below, that soils the cuffs of his pants, can rip him from the haze of his foul mood.

The first time Sanji glances up from the floor, is to watch behind him as Zoro reaches the bottom of the rope ladder. He takes a brief hiatus from his gloom to watch smugly as Zoro struggles to use only his legs to get aboard.

One of his arms is coiled around a barrel of beer, the other is weighed down by as many shopping bags as Sanji could throw at him, topped with a box he’s balancing between his bicep and shoulder that contains large heavy pieces of meat.

The swordman seems to sense he’s being watched because he peaks a look up at Sanji, his eye’s just visible under his bandana.

“You going to help me, Curly?”

Sanji tsks loudly, his brief smile at the other’s struggling twisting into a frown again as he remembers just how pissed off he is.

“Screw you, Mosshead.”

The clack of Sanji’s dress shoes echo across the deck of the ship as he storms off towards the pantry, the door to the kitchen banging loudly behind him as it slams shut.

Zoro blinks slowly, shaking his head as he convinces himself not to think too hard about what has set the cook off. Knowing how temperamental he could be, it could be as simple as an eyelash grazed his eye, or maybe he had to buy a bruised fruit or something.

Zoro decides to ignore the temper tantrum and instead focuses on getting over the side of the ship and safely onto the deck. He kicks the door to the kitchen open, not feeling bad when it slams loudly against the cracking wooden wall. It’s not his fault someone had shut it when they knew his hands were full, and Zoro was not dropping any of stuff in his arms until he knew he’d never have to pick them up again.

“Oi, watch it moss for brains.” Sanji snarls, already halfway through unpacking one of the half full bags he’d decided not to throw at Zoro.

Zoro noisily drops everything from his left arm, the sacks opening and almost spilling their contents, while the box dents on one side. With both arms Zoro carefully drops his booze barrel onto the floor, the only thing he cared about getting safely back to the ship.

“What the hell, idiot. You better not have bruised anything.” Sanji seethes, storming forwards, his eyes not even on the products.

It was clear the cook wasn’t upset about the door, or the dropped goods. No, Zoro knew by now his rival was itching for a fight. Well, if that is the case, he’d give him one.

“What’s your problem, Ero-Cook? You don’t like how I handle them, then you carry them.”

Like expected, his blonde crewmate sucks in a breath before he easily spins his hips and launches a kick at the side of Zoro’s head. The hilt of a sword catches the edge of his ankle, stopping the impact by mere centimetres.

“Isn’t your job on this ship to be the pack mule?” Sanji hisses, leaning forward enough that Zoro can feel a flick of spit hit his chin. “Can you do anything right?”

The next few clashes between the pair are nasty. A pinch of hurt mixes with a wave of fury and frustration as Zoro matches the tempo of the other’s hits. They block, dodge and slam into one another, a litter of bruises and bumps being left in the wake of their moves as they throw insults back and forth.

It’s nothing new, nothing unusual between them, but it feels strange to Zoro. Sanji doesn’t feel like he’s letting off steam, not when one shoving kick almost breaks a rib, or when the next kick almost comes crashing down on his skull at practically full force, hard enough to crack bone. The cook clearly seems upset with him.

“What-” Zoro slams the hilt of his second blade into the side of Sanji’s knee, unbalancing him, “is your-” He steps further shoving into the cook and knocking him back onto his ass, the tip of Yubashiri pointing down at him “fucking problem?”

Sanji’s glare trails from the tip of the blade up to Zoro’s face before he growls back “You. You ruin everything.”

With that, Sanji uses a kick to knock the blade away before he pushes forward, barely lifting off the ground as he tackles Zoro at his knees, knocking him onto his back and briefly winding him.

He probably could have taken the hit, but he’s so surprised that he doesn’t even realise what the cook is doing until he feels two sharp knees digging into the inside of his elbows. His arms are pinned, stretched outwards with his swords as far from his opponent as possible, as Sanji sits heavily on his chest.

Zoro’s so startled by the approach that he goes to swing his head, to whip the sword in his mouth at the hot head, but before he can, Sanji has taken the sword away. For a moment, Zoro thinks he’ll join Sanji in feeling murderous, but some of his anger is quenched when he realises the cook doesn’t toss the blade away, but instead places it carefully above Zoro’s head, just out of reach of his mouth.

“You couldn’t just keep your mouth shut at the market, could you?” Sanji pants, pushing as much weight into his knees so he can, watching Zoro flinch as they push through muscle and pinch at nerves.

“What are you talking about, shit-cook?” Zoro tries to move his arms, he knows he’s strong enough to lift Sanji’s scrawny legs off him, but for some reason, nothing happens.

“You just had to butt in about booze right as I was getting somewhere with that beautiful blonde-haired beauty. You had to open your stupid mouth and ruin it.”

Sanji thinks back to the lady, all curves and soft lines and a small timid smile. The brief laugh she paid him for a weak joke was enough to make Sanji float. He’s sure he could have charmed an evening with her while they were stuck on this island, but big mean and green had to ruin it all, as usual.

“That’s what this is about? You striking out with yet another clueless chick?” Zoro continues to struggle, becoming perplexed that his strength seemed to have left him.

“Don’t call women demeaning shit like that.” Sanji snarls, only refraining from hitting the green bafoon when he notices the other looking worried at his arms twitching uselessly beneath Sanji’s hold.

“It’s not going to work, Mosshead. I’m leaning on a weak point in your arms.”

Zoro’s attention turns back to Sanji, his brows furrowed in thought as though he wasn’t sure to believe the blonde or not.

“Apologise, and I’ll move.” Sanji bargains, his temper subsiding as a feeling of victory settles in his chest.

“Eat shit.”

Sanji grins at the discomfort on Zoro’s face, the sweat breaking out across his forehead as he struggles to get himself back in a position of power. The blonde decides to lean his upper body back, a show of how long he is willing to wait for Zoro to cave. His hands fall lazily behind him as he goes to rest one of them on Zoro’s stomach.

The movement surprises the swordsman, the hand going unnoticed until he felt gentle fingertips dragging across his ribs, pushing at the taut skin. The lack of sight, mixed with an unusual place for Sanji to touch him is enough to cause Zoro to flinch, to let the smallest involuntary gasp through his lips as his breath hitches and his eyes widen in genuine surprise.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

Maybe he didn’t notice?

“Oho, what was that Marimo?” Sanji, having literally felt the hitch in breath beneath him, stares curiously at his hand, then looks back at Zoro’s face, the faintest dusting of a blush growing on his cheeks as he suddenly refuses to meet Sanji’s face.

The cook might have just taken the reaction as having hit a bruise, but the discomfort on Zoro’s face makes Sanji curious. So, he does it again.

This time his fingers brush relentlessly over the spot, the touch getting softer as he realises it elicits more of a reaction from the man beneath him. Sanji can’t help the grin that spreads out across his face as the pieces start to click together.

“Oi, Marimo.” Zoro glares a hole through Sanji as he meet’s his gaze, his blood boiling at the sight of the smug expression on the assholes face. “I didn’t know moss could be ticklish.”

Zoro tries to keep his face neutral as he opens his mouth to deny it, to tell Sanji he’s an idiot and to get the fuck off him before he skewers him, but before he can…Sanji squeezes his hip bone, his long fingers coiling into the exposed hollow of his hip.

He thought with all his hard work and training over the years that he could have held back his reaction, hardened his mind until he felt nothing. It doesn’t work. Not with Sanji’s weight holding him down, his arms and swords useless for once, his rival’s touch soft against his skin. This was new, this was terrifying, and this was something Zoro had never prepared for.

He lets out a bark of laughter, his face whipping to the side in embarrassment and panic as he tries to will the flush climbing up his neck away.

Sanji forgets to be angry, forgets he was ever upset, forgets completely about the blonde that started this whole scene. He can feel the echo of the laugh through Zoro’s chest, can feel the panicked breaths that follow against his thighs. His eyes are locked on Zoro’s watery smile, not used to seeing such a shy grin on the swordman’s face.

He squeezes again, Zoro’s eyes twisting shut as though not being able to see what was happening would be enough to make it go away. He loosens his grip slightly, scratching the area instead, his nails bluntly dragging across the cotton of Zoro’s shirt as a groan from his mouth turns to soft giggles.

Sanji is pretty sure he’s forgotten how to breath. It’s like he’s afraid to. That he’ll make too much noise and miss a single sound coming from Zoro’s lips.

“Didn’t think a brute like you could giggle.” Sanji teases eventually, pausing his assault long enough to see if Zoro will answer him, if he is capable of speech.

Zoro is pretty sure he’s going to die. His chest is tight after less than a minute of this. He can’t think, he can’t breathe, his hip feels like it’s been electrocuted and now Sanji’s words are burning him. He can feel the heat radiating from his skin, the tension in his limbs will surely snap at any moment. When it does, it’s likely he’ll melt into the wood of the floor.

“What, no quip back?” Sanji is laughing now, joyfully too, not his usual cruel cackle that he uses to taunt Zoro mid-fight.

“Shu-huh-ut up!” Zoro gasps, trying to regain his composure.

He can’t remember the last time someone had pinned him like this, and certainly can’t remember a time when someone ever tickled him like this. He hadn’t even considered he was ticklish, not since he’d grown up.

“Aw Marimo, that’s not very nice.” Sanji’s eyes are practically shining as he leans back with both hands now on Zoro’s stomach, all ten fingers curling into the soft dip just below Zoro’s abs.

Zoro’s eye’s practically bug out of his head at the sensation. Any thought of shutting down his nervous system disappears as he lets out a stream of loud laughter, his legs curling and kicking out behind Sanji, his back arching off the ground, nearly hard enough to push Sanji off him. But the blonde was able to stay on top, his laughter joining Zoro’s.

“Oh, mosshead. I think I’ve found a way to indefinitely win our little fights now. Let’s hope no one outside the crew finds out about this, eh?”

Sanji’s words are too much, too condescending, and sweet and frustrating.

“I-Ihh- I’m go-ahah-gonna cut yo-oho-you’re fucking tongue ou-ouaha-out.” Zoro warns, deadly serious for once. His threat sounding ridiculous though as his voice cracks at the end, his laughter hitting a shriek as Sanji traces a spot just above his pant’s line.

Sanji hums, unimpressed. His hands disappear from Zoro’s stomach and for some reason that’s worse. Zoro’s gaze snaps from the door to the kitchen back to Sanji as he desperately tries to anticipate whatever the fuck the cook is going to do next.

He’s too slow though because he doesn’t feel the hands shoving under his exposed armpit’s until it’s too late. Not being able to drag his elbows into his sides is torture and his shrieking continues as his nerves tingle from his chest all the way to his fingertips.

“I don’t think the world’s greatest swordsman is the only title you’ll ever earn; clearly most ticklish swordsman is already yours.”

It’s the worst comment so far. Mainly because the cook has just fucking admitted he think’s Zoro can achieve his dream. The compliment is weird and warm enough to have butterflies fluttering in his gut while his lungs seize in his chest. His face is beetroot red at this point as Zoro starts to feel like he’ll never escape.

But just as he thinks this, Zoro registers his legs, which have been twisting and convulsing this whole time…Sanji is settled on his chest. Zoro’s legs are completely free. He mightn’t have trained his kicks like the cook, but he can still swing them as well as any other competent fighter.

As Sanji opens his mouth to tease him further, Zoro moves. He brings his knees up with as much force as he can in his position, and they hit Sanji square in his lower back. He knocks the cook forward just enough that one of his knee’s shifts from where they were pinching the nerve in Zoro’s arm and in a blink of an eye he goes from a laughing mess to grappling Sanji’s waist, rolling the pair over until Zoro finds himself nestled in between the blonde’s legs, his hips pining the other’s down.

Sanji is blinking owlishly up at the ceiling, disorientated, and confused at how he ended up in this position.

Zoro wastes no time in hopping up and falling back down on the other’s thighs, preventing any kicks or twists that might come his way. He gives Sanji a second, relishing in the horrified expression on his rivals faces before he digs both his large hands into every inch of skin he could on the blonde’s stomach and is rewarded by a loud wheeze followed by a stream of curses and laughter as Sanji loses it beneath him. His whole being wiggling and convulsing and suddenly Zoro doesn’t feel as embarrassed or weak.

He was going to kill the blonde, tickle him to an inch of his final breath and make him promise to never try this shit again, to beg and cry for Zoro to stop...

But the heated feeling dies in his mind as soon as he thinks it, because Sanji laughs like it means nothing. Like he doesn’t care that he’s being lit on fire by Zoro’s touch. He meets Zoro’s eye like they’re sharing a joke over a drink, like they’ve just surprised yet another unsuspecting crew, he looks at Zoro as if they’re friends…and it kills Zoro. Destroys him in a way he’s not expecting.

So, he stops, his fingers stilling when Sanji’s eyes gather tears and his face is as red as Zoro’s own.

He doesn’t tease him, doesn’t trust himself to say a single word when his mouth has dried, when it feels like cotton in sitting in the centre of his tongue.

“Tr-ucahaha-truce. Plea-ahah-se Marimo.”

Zoro stares at him until Sanji squirms uncomfortably at the silence. He watches the emotions swirling in Zoro’s eyes, his face it’s usual mask of secrecy. The idiot looks lost, like he’s stuck on something particularly complex.

Sanji hasn’t a clue what could be happening in the green idiot’s brain, so he doesn’t push him. Not when he’s still menacingly looming over him, ready to pounce.

Sanji handles him the way he always does when he needs Zoro to comply without needing him to actually agree with him.

“I’ll let you drink a bottle of the good booze if you let me up?”

Zoro grins then, the tension washing away as Sanji offer him something familiar, something safe.

He grunts as he stands, surprising them both when he offers Sanji a hand up.

He takes the hand, letting Zoro pull him to his feet, surprised when the other pulls him close, his breath tickling Sanji’s ear as he hisses “You tell anyone about this, and not even the world’s best sake will save you.”

Zoro pulls back then to glare as threateningly as he can at the cook. Sanji looks stricken, maybe a bit intimidated for a second before he bursts into laughter. Zoro pouts at the response, forgetting none of his intimating tricks work on the pervert.

Sanji gooses his side as he dances out of Zoro’s reach and towards the drinks stash, laughing as he replies over his shoulder.

“Next time I won’t forget to pin you properly, moss for brains.”

The threat sounds more like a promise, like Sanji is already planning his next attack. It makes Zoro uncomfortable, afraid, and slightly excited. The same mesh of emotions he always gets from fighting with Sanji.

Maybe, this would be another form of release for them. Another way to pass the time on the ship and let off some steam.

He tries not to dwell on the fact that a tickle fight was far less acceptable for a pair of terrifying warriors than genuine bruise inducing sparring.

Who could judge them out at sea? Who would learn of what they did on the grand line behind a closed kitchen door.

Zoro wanted to hear that laughter again, wanted to see that grin across the cook’s face…and maybe, he admits quietly in his brain as he takes the first gulp of his drink, he was looking forward to having the cook tease him like that again.

To beat him with a soft touch, rather than a short blunt one.

Zoro needed to drink the entire bottle placed in front of him before he lets his thoughts continue, before he reaches a conclusion, he’s been avoiding for months now.

He holds out his empty cup and receives a scoff in return as Sanji fills it again, the two of them clinking their next glasses together in a silent ‘cheers’.

They’ll figure it out, whatever this is.

They’re nakama after all.

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squealing-santa · 4 months

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i'm dangerous cause i'm a fool for love

authors note: at last, at last, wrestling-anon is here with my gift for @august-anon -- and great minds think alike, because i was DELIGHTED to discover that we had submitted remarkably similar prompts in the best possible way. I'm Bloodweave trash, so I just had to go with the Astarion/Gale pairing you requested, but I hope I've worked in a couple of your other ideas too. title from Lord Huron, music absolutely made for BG3 at all times. also yes--that's obviously your Tav at camp with Wyll at the start <3

word count: 2739

fandom: Baldur's Gate 3, BG3

pairings: Wyll/Tav, Astarion/Gale, Bloodweave

content warning: discussion of past trauma

summary: Astarion knows he doesn't know half of what he's missed out on. Gale knows all too well.

* * * *

“Stop–STOP!”

Wyll’s voice rang loud and frantic through the camp, a tone they all recognized by now.

Gale glances up from the book he was poring over, Astarion sprawled over the seat behind him with his own book in hand. Gale calls out, a fond grin on his face,

“Oh dear. And whatever has our Blade of Frontiers done this time to deserve such torture?”

Wyll shrieks again, desperately grabbing for Tav’s hands as they snaked up his shirt again, tweaking the base of his ribs.

“Tav, PLEASE! I d-didn’t mean it!” he insists, his cheeks aching from the huge smile they’re forcing onto his face with each delicate touch.

“Oh you didn’t? Then why did you say, and I quote, that you could take anything any of us dished out?” Tav asked, their own face bright with laughter at the sight of Wyll thrashing and pleading, nearly going to his knees.

“N-no more, no more!” Wyll gasps, the loudest noise still flying unbidden from his lips when Tav’s fingers find the weak spots near his navel.

Astarion moves closer to Gale, remarkably quiet for once as he watches the two lovers playfully tussling, a look of…longing? Confusion? on his pale face, fingers twitching at his sides as they do when he’s deep in thought.

The playful torture ends with Wyll finally capturing Tav’s wrists and planting kisses on their palms, and Tav fondly kissing the tears off his cheeks with a smile.. “There we are, a happy ending indeed,” Gale says, closing his book and placing it carefully back into his pack, glancing back at Astarion. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

Astarion starts slightly, letting out an airy chuckle. “Hardly, my darling. Why, our lovely Wyll is loud enough to drown out anyone, there was no point in me trying to talk.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Gale teases, leaning in to plant a kiss on Astarion’s curls. Astarion rolls his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not speaking of yourself, hmm? I’ve never known you to be quiet in any setting. And I do mean any setting,” he adds with a leer.

Gale recognizes that shift in tone, the way Astarion deflects off to flirting more outrageously when he’s feeling something he’s not yet prepared to delve into, something Gale has had to come to terms with over their slow, strange courtship. He knows the best way forward is to leave it, knowing Astarion will come to him when he’s ready to unravel another layer, heal another wound.

“I have been known to be rather verbose, yes, but last I checked you didn’t exactly object to the long odes of praise,” Gale retorts, and Astarion grins. “That’s my Gale.”

Astarion wanders off to his own bedroll, that look still in his eyes, as Wyll scoops Tav up and over his shoulder with a cry of “revenge!”, carrying them off to his tent as Tav playfully swats at his back.

* * * *

Astarion comes to him rather sooner than expected, in the end.

The moment dark falls over the camp, Gale casts the usual soundproofing spell lest any of their companions–noises in the night draw anyone or anything closer than they’d like, retiring to his tent with a bottle of wine, a second glass already poured in case Astarion decides it’s one of the nights he’d like to spend tangled in Gale’s sheets rather than simply trancing on his own.

Gale hears the rustle of the tent flap pulling back as Astarion enters, giving him a fond smile and gesturing to the wine.

Astarion grins back, immediately seizing the glass and taking a sip, Gale’s eyes following the movement of his throat and the pleasured sigh he lets out as he swallows.

“My my, it’s like you knew I was coming.”

“I rather hoped you would. The bedroll feels rather empty when you don’t, hard though that may be to believe.”

Astarion preens, but his eyes are soft. “You flirt. You know you don’t have to work to get me in bed any more, hmm?”

“Nevertheless,” Gale says, “I never tire of complimenting you. And you never seem to tire of the compliments. We are…complementary, that way.” He looks especially proud of his little joke, Astarion groaning in reply even as he covers his mouth to hide a laugh.

“You are impossible. Absolutely impossible.” Astarion takes another drink, then quiets, staring into the liquid as though he’s trying to conjure something there.

Gale hesitates a moment before he moves closer, stroking a hand through Astarion’s hair, still not pushing him to respond, though every bit of Gale is sending out all of the “you can talk to me, I love you, you’re safe” signals he possibly can without words.

Astarion leans into the touch, his eyes drifting closed, a soft, pleased noise in his throat as Gale’s fingers lightly scratch at his scalp. Without looking up, he says, almost to the glass, “I… it’s hard, still. Even after…even after killing him. To feel as though I learn every day some new thing that he took from me without me even knowing I missed it.”

Gale feels the same dull ache in his heart–and his scar–that he does every time Astarion talks of his life before, of not just the obvious cruelties inflicted upon his scarred back, but the small, insignificant ones.

“I…all of us, but especially I…we’re here to help you find those things again, my love. If you want to find them. To learn together. I…hardly know sometimes who I might be without what my goddess made me…”

Astarion looks up at him, eyes slightly shiny with unshed tears. “Oh, my love. What a pair we two make,” he says, running his fingers along Gale’s jaw, toward his neck, Gale snorting out a small laugh involuntarily. “You know I’m ticklish…”

“That…reminds me,” Astarion says, looking back into the glass again as though it might perhaps be encouraging him. “I…look, I don’t even know how to…well, what I mean is…”

“Shall I tickle you, then?” Gale asks, and Astarion nearly chokes on the sip he’s about to take. “I…noticed how you were gazing at Wyll and Tav earlier. It was rather hard to miss, I’m afraid, though I suspect those two were rather preoccupied.”

“I don’t…I can’t remember. If I was ever ticklish, if anyone ever tried. Before. Certainly not since. I rather doubt that I am, honestly. But…”

“We can start quite gently,” Gale promises, “I can tell you what I’m going to do, how I plan to touch. So I don’t startle you.”

Astarion sets the glass down with a nod, still not quite able to look up. “Yes. That…I think that might help.” He laughs again, a bit embarrassed. “All of the debauchery I’ve explored with so many and here I am blanching at the idea of asking for something so silly.”

Gale tilts his chin up, pressing a soft, warm kiss to his mouth, feeling Astarion not simply yield to it but answer it back hungrily, his fingers wrapping around the back of Gale’s neck as he sighs into his mouth, the kiss not something to be endured but something Astarion wants, and Gale can’t help but smile against his lips.

“Something funny, wizard?” Astarion breathes, his fingers shifting from a wrap to a tickle, making Gale scrunch up with a rather sweet giggle.

“N-no! Nothing funNY, I swear!” Gale insists, unable to still the giggles as Astarion’s fingers caress the sides of his neck, moving to tease under his chin.

“Perhaps I should simply tickle you instead, hmm?” Astarion purrs, but the purr turns to a yelp when Gale slips his fingers under the loose hem of Astarion’s shirt, just barely grazing his waistline.

Gale smiles in earnest now. “Sorry. Didn’t warn you properly. But…I’m already getting the sense that you might have been wrong about that whole not-being-ticklish bit.”

Astarion smirks back at him. “What was it Wyll apparently said earlier? I can take anything you dish out? I’m quite certain I can, you just caught me off guard.”

Gale taps the tip of his nose with a grin. “Lie down, hmmm? On your back to start, if it’s comfortable. And simply say…hmm…light, I suppose? If it’s too much to bear, I don’t actually want to torment you.”

Astarion obeys, biting back the temptation to make a lewd comment about Gale wanting him on his back, and raises his arms up, crossing them behind his head to pillow it in his hands.

“I think I’ll start with your stomach, then…” Gale muses, and Astarion feels a rather pleasant stirring in his chest at the idea of Gale narrating such a thing, the intention of comfort and warning nonetheless reminding him that when Gale puts his mind to it, he can tease Astarion to new heights of frenzy. Before he can remark on it, however, Gale’s soft fingers draw circles along his waistline and up toward his navel, and Astarion’s whole body jolts.

“What the HELL–?”

Gale can’t hide the look of glee on his face. “Oh, dear, dear me. I’ve only just started and you’re about to squirm out of your skin?”

“F-far from it, I just…didn’t expect…oh, GODS!”

Gale draws light, relentless paths, every touch shooting straight through Astarion’s nerves, like so much sparkling light, Astarion would swear Gale was casting some sort of spell as he laughs harder than any of the times he’s teased the others with Tasha’s Hideous Laughter.

And Gale simply will not.

Stop.

Talking.

“My, my, such a sensitive stomach, hmm? I suppose it makes sense to try your ribs next…lucky for you they’re not as exposed as they were when we first found you, eh?”

Gale strokes along the bones of his ribs, wiggling nails into the grooves between them, and Astarion’s laughter softens slightly but doesn’t fade completely.

“Ah, I see, not quite so ticklish there, are you? I’m a bit deadly around the ribs myself, if you haven’t noticed, quite a liability if someone thought they might want to sneak up and put a knife into them, eh? It’d catch them quite off guard for me to laugh, I expect–keep those arms up, would you, love?”

Gale’s fingers find their way to the soft tufts of hair in his armpits and Astarion practically howls, though he manages–barely–to keep his arms behind his head, tears springing to his eyes, but nothing resembling “light” rising from his mouth.

“Oh, this might be the best spot yet, hmm? You’re not simply ticklish, you’re terribly so, you may even rival me…or Wyll, for that matter!” Gale beams, and the fact that he isn’t intending to tease only makes the effect worse–well, or better, but Astarion thinks it might take more than a little tickle to get that confession from him.

“Hold on. Bit of an unusual spot, but…” Gale slides his fingers up Astarion’s sleeves to flutter softly over his biceps, and Astarion’s laughter goes from howls to the sweetest, most bubbly giggles Gale has ever heard, his eyes squeezing shut as he says “Y-you are vicious at this, Gale Dekarios!”

“Vicious? Me? I’m wounded, you know! After all, you were the one who asked for this…though I suppose you couldn’t have known you’d be quite this dreadfully ticklish…I may take a bit of convincing to stop, hearing you laugh like this!”

Gale immediately contradicts himself by pausing the attack, watching Astarion closely. “Still with me, love? I’d like to try your legs a bit, though I’m not sure if I dare to try your feet…”

Astarion clears his throat, adjusting his shirt as Gale withdraws his hands. “Do your worst, darling. Though don’t think I won’t enjoy every moment of my revenge…I don’t think I’ve explored your particular weakness to this nearly enough, now that I think on it.”

“Then I suppose I may as well earn it,” Gale teases back, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his forehead before sliding down to perch between Astarion’s thighs. “I normally might do this facing away from you, but I don’t…well. I want you to be able to see what I’m about to do, at least this first time.”

“You…you sweetheart,” Astarion says, voice fond but slightly shaky, a part of him still never sure that he deserves to have what he wants, what will bring him comfort, and Gale leans up to kiss him again, fingers cupping his chin as he murmurs, “I love you…”

“I love you too, even though you’re about to try tormenting me again…perhaps you’ve already found everywhere, however,” Astarion says, his eyes rather suggesting he hopes that isn’t the case. Gale grins as he rearranges himself between Astarion’s bent thighs, resting his fingers on his hips, making him twitch.

“Let us see,” Gale muses, returning to his narration as he lightly tickles, then squeezes at Astarion’s hips. Astarion jolts again, a few short laughs slipping out, but he shakes his head, looking almost disappointed. “Not much, I’m afraid.”

“Next time I have you undressed I may have to try one of my quills,” Gale says, half to himself, and Astarion’s eyes widen at the image before he lets out a loud, shrill squeal of laughter when Gale’s fingers start scribbling over the backs of his thighs, his back arching off the bedroll.

“GODS, that, that–” Astarion half-yelps, half squeals, barely managing not to slam his thighs down to protect the spot, and Gale all but lights up.

“Ohh, ticklish thighs, is that it? That’s a rather dangerous secret, you know…your thighs are so tempting to me already, but knowing I can hear your lovely laugh if I simply tickle you? You may have unleashed a monster,” Gale teases, fingers flying up and down, darting occasionally to his inner thighs which only makes him laugh louder.

“I’ll! I’ll get yours twice as MUCH–” Astarion tries to sound threatening, but the way his voice trembles with laughter slightly undoes the effect, the laughter spiking to a shriek when Gale teases behind his knees. “NOT that!”

“Not that? Not what, your knees? But that doesn’t sound like light, not at all! In fact, I’m starting to suspect you’re enjoying this a bit more than you’re letting on, love–you’re not fighting me a bit, are you? Haven’t tried once to put your legs down, or even grab my hands…”

Astarion only shriek-laughs in response, his head falling back, his hands slipping from behind his head to cover his face.

“Oh, no. That won’t do at all–”

Before Astarion can react, Gale wriggles his fingers into an exposed armpit again, and this time Astarion does snap his arms down, the howling from earlier repeated louder somehow as he writhes.

“You, you ass, you brat!” Astarion yelps, the insults lacking a certain sting, laced with giggles as they are.

“So which is worse, would you say? Hmm? After all, as your partner, I should know these sorts of things…under your arms, or your knees? It’s certainly hard to tell!”

Gale punctuates the question by wriggling the fingers of his trapped hand in Astarion’s armpit, his other hand slipping behind his knee again, and Astarion cries out “Light, damn you!” before dissolving into hysterics.

Gale stops immediately, the tickles turning to firm rubs, though even those draw small hiccups of laughter as Astarion starts to relax, his eyes bright as he opens them to look at Gale.

“That…well. You are truly a vicious thing when you want to be, aren’t you, treasure?” Astarion says, wiping the tears off his cheeks, giving Gale a little wink.

“And you’re far more ticklish than I ever expected. It’s absolutely delightful, you know. You sound…it’s lovely, when you laugh like that. When you just let go. Just…just lovely.”

Astarion pulls him down on top of him for a long, slightly giggly kiss, his hands skimming along Gale’s back as they stroke up and down, murmuring a soft “...thank you” against his lips before letting his eyes close, enjoying the warm weight of Gale on top of him.

“I plan to have my revenge, you know,” Astarion mumbles, yawning hugely.

“You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. I’ll be ready. Besides, I’ve already got a few more spots on you I’ll be itching to try next time.”

Gale hides a smile when Astarion doesn’t retort anything about there not being a next time, only holds him tighter, face burrowing into Gale’s sensitive neck.

“That’s what I thought.”

#squealing santa 2k23 #ss2k23 #submission #tickle fic #author: wrestling-anon #baldurs gate 3 tickling #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 tickling #bg3 #Wyll/Tav #Astarion/Gale #Bloodweave

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