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“Fjord! How are you?” Molly greets him as the half-orc enters the room, then frowns in an overly exaggerated fashion. “What’s with that grumpy look on your face?”
Crossing into the room as he finally finds the tiefling that has been on his mind, Fjord mutters. “Last time… Little shit… Teach you to steal shit from me….”
He walks right up to Mollymauk and grips him by the shoulder.
“Hey!” Molly chuckles, “Not that I’m against the manhandling,” he questions the half-orc tugging him backwards out of the room, “but, what’s going on?”
“I told you to stop fucking with my shit.” Fjord says pointedly.
“And what shit did I fuck with?” Molly quips back, trying to spin himself around as Fjord pulls the back collar of his coat. He dances backwards awkwardly, shuffled onward by his friend. “C-come on! What do you think I did?!”
Fjord stops for a moment, gives him an annoyed, knowing look.
Molly argues. “How do you even know that whatever it is was me?”
“Was with Jester all afternoon. Already asked Veth.” Fjord states, matter-of-factly.
Molly grumbles about that doesn’t prove anything as they continue. Fjord drags them up through the ship, back to his room, and tosses Mollymauk in before him.
“You’re a real pain in my ass sometimes, you know that?”
“It’s not my fault you have a terrible fashion sense.”
Fjord raises an eyebrow at him.
Mollymauk winks back.
“Where’s the hat, Molly?” He steps forward, backing the tiefling toward the bed.
Molly glances behind him at the bed, looks up into Fjord’s predatory eyes. “What are you gonna do?” He smirks, asking with half-lidded eyes and a sultry tone. “Fuck me about it? Teach me a lesson? Spank me?”
Fjord breaks his glare for a moment, laughing. “Ha- Yeah, you wish.”
Then, he leaps forward.
Mollymauk squawks with alarm as he is thrown back onto the mattress, his sides immediately subject to squeezing, scribbling tickles up and down them.
He shrieks and breaks down into laughter within moments. “Wahahahahait! Fjohohord!”
“Tell me where you hid it.” Fjord insists. “Or I’m gonna make you cry.”
Oh, gods. Molly hopes he does.
“Lihihihike you cohohohould!” Molly spits back, cackling.
“I’ve got plen-ty of patience, Molly,” Fjord assures him, “...but you’ll find I’m lacking in mercy today.” He wrangles Molly onto his back and starts tickling all along his middle. He spiders over his stomach, pokes and squeezes up his sides and reaches into the coat to tickle his ribs. Molly snorts and laughs wildly, trying desperately to catch Fjord’s hands. He flails in surprised, ticklish distress, unable to do anything other than cackle.
Fjord eventually uses one wide hand to reach behind the tiefling and scratch his fingers over Molly’s shoulder blade while his thumb digs in under his arm. Mollymauk shrieks and dissolves into cackling laughter, curling in on that side. Fjord throws a leg over his waist, straddling him, and uses the other hand to finally get a grip on Molly’s wrist and slide his hand under his knee. He pins him flat on his back, squirming.
Effectively most-of-the-way-pinned, Molly continues to cackle away.
Fjord grabs the other arm, then, pulling it up over his head and using the tickling hand to scribble up and down, from his armpit to his hip. Molly hiccups with a gasping laugh as he kicks wildly behind Fjord. “NAHAHAHAHA– FUCK!”
“Tell. Me. Where. It. Is.” Fjord punctuates each word with a drilling poke. Molly shouts through more laughter.
Molly shakes his head, his face flushed with laughter.
“Okay. A different approach, then..” He grips Molly by the elbows, shifts up a bit, and then quickly twists the squirming purple tiefling around – through incessant protests – so he’s face down. “Comfy?” Fjord asks, returning Molly’s hands to their position under his knees.
Mollymauk turns his head, trying to get a glimpse of Fjord. He knew if he pushed his buttons enough that he could get a rise like this out of him, but it was already pleasantly more than he had expected. He flashes a little smirk as he catches Fjord’s eye. “Pretty comfortable, sure. Careful of the tail, there, darling.” He brings it up from where its shoved back between Fjord’s legs in the straddle, just managing to flick it over the back point of a ticklish, green ear, teasing.
“Oh, I’ll be mighty careful of it.” Fjord drawls back as he brings his hands down to the base of where his tail begins at the end of his spine. The fingers are light, almost hovering, and it sends shocking shivers pricking up and down Molly’s spine.
“Y-eeeEEE- waitwaitwait- nahaHAHA- EEE EHHEEHEEHEE FUCK! FUCK!” Molly struggles under him, his back and shoulders trying to twist in on themselves. “No no no no noOOOHO! AHAHA- wahaAHAHAIT! No! Please! I’m sORRYHEHEHE! FJORD! NAHAHAHAHA—”
“Oh you’re sorry now, hmm? No—” He pauses with a short, bemused chuckle. “—Not yet. But you are going to be.”
Mollymauk feels the hair on the back of his neck prickle up at what Fjord says. His entire nervous system is alight. Fingers ghost over the skin of his lower back, tracing along his spine, poking gently over and over into the sensitive skin near his tail, scratching at each spot enough to make his skin buzz.
Mollymauk can handle a lot of tickling, okay? In fact, he’s quite proud of it. He can take Beau and Jester ganging up on him and tickling him to tears, ruthless and unyielding. He can handle Caduceus or Veth or even the agonizingly familiar teasing of Yasha as they take him apart with laughter. He can endure even the most deviously conjured spells that amplify the sensations from his magical tinkering wizards. But, gods, what the fuck? Fjord isn’t going hard, but he is going all out, putting his whole gods-damn orc-ussy into this- this fucking- what even is this? Hell. Unending. Unbearable. Almost-not-there-but-really-really-fucking-there-and-unbearable tickling, fingertips gently brushing against his skin over and over. He can’t shake the surmounting tingle and buzz of his nerves, his brain and skin screaming at him to roll over, to move, to get it to stop, or to get Fjord to dig in harder and just do it already. He wails, frantic, into the mattress, and Fjord continues just as before. The arms along his sides wiggle uselessly where they’re held under Fjord’s knees. It feels even worse, having them down at his sides but able to protect some skin, too close and too far away to do anything other than drive him more crazy.
“PleheheheheHEEHEHEASE!” Molly squeals, begging.
Fjord doesn’t answer, but he does start slowly moving his tickling fingers upward. It’s not exactly better. It’s different . At least it’s not quite at his tail, right where the nerves all pool and drive him to see stars when tickled for too long. The whole of his back is, fortunately or unfortunately, exceptionally ticklish.
“See? Much better results this time around.” Fjord says, tracing the backs of Molly’s ribs and watching him wriggle.
“Yohohohohohohou’re an ahahahahahaHAHAH ASS!”
“How rude!” Fjord mock-gasps, and amps up the teasing playfulness of his touches. He ghosts his fingers over Molly’s spine and starts spidering along his shoulder blades.
Molly crumbles into the bed, cackling. “Gahahahahhaa- stahahahahoppit already! HAHAHHA I- eeheeHEEHEE I dohohon’t deserve thihihihis!” He cries out as Fjord traces lightly along his shoulders and spine. “Nonononono no!”
“Yeah… I think I’ll camp out here for a while.” Fjord notes aloud. His fingers continue lightly, making and breaking contact over and over, sending shiver after shiver down Molly’s spine.
He squirms endlessly, wailing and cackling into the bed as Fjord continues to tickle and tease him. “Might even buy some property, in fact.”
“Shut uhuhuhuhup!” Mollymauk whines as Fjord keeps tickling, keeps talking, keeps teasing.
He wants to last longer, he really does. He’s waited a long time for this, after all! It’s not easy to get Fjord to really have a go at him. But… he’s not sure how much longer he can manage if Fjord keeps this shit up.
One finger worms its way under his arms, suddenly, on each side. Then two. Molly squeals, trying to clamp his struggling arms down harder, however useless. “NahahahHAHAHA C’MON- HAHA FJORD YOUHOHOHOU! AHH! STAHAHAHAHOP!” He frets as the fingers scratch gently into the hollows under his arms. Fjord’s other hand remains tickling gently along his back. The thumbs nearly meet along his back, discovering a good spot along the base of his shoulder blades that hooks straight into his already buzzing nervous system. He shrieks, his eyes pouring over with tears, his body sparkling with ticklish energy.
“Tickle, tickle, Mollymauk.” Fjord leans in to tease, his voice gently and syrup-y. “I can do this all day.”
Molly knows he’s right. He tries to think about his options, but his mind is too overwhelmed with ticklish distress to think much other than various curse words.
“Where’s that hat? Where’d you hide it?” Fjord asks, then coos. “Or do I just have to keep tickling you forever?”
“FJORD HEHEH- NO! Please—” He gives in, defeated and hoarse — his voice escapes between gasps and bursts of laughter. “It’s- it’s in the library- the libraryehehehe gods- stop! I-hehehe I cahaahahan’t!”
“Hm. That’s better.” Fjord replies calmly, as though he’s not taking the tiefling apart at the seams. “You’d better not be lying to me.”
He draws one finger slowly down his spine.
“I’m not- I’m- I’m-” Molly shrieks and falls into wheezy giggles. “I- I’m not, I-ehehe I promise -”
“Hmmm.” Fjord shrugs off of him, draws a hand down his tail and runs a thumb over the edge of the spade.
“Fjord–” Molly’s breath hitches, he closes his eyes in anticipation.
“...Shame.” Fjord sighs. “I thought you’d hold out longer.”
A prickling swirl of brattiness rises in Molly’s chest. He shifts his shoulders a little and with a shake of his head quickly finds his confidence and dignity again easily as though he hadn't just been brought to tears. But to be honest… he thought he would too. This damn tease of a captain was too good at this. He thinks for a moment. “Had to have a little pity on you, dear, your head looks so naked.” Molly quips breathlessly.
Fjord narrows his eyes and looks the panting tiefling over. He takes an arm in his hands and manhandles Molly around and upward to a sitting position. “C’mon, up we go then.” Fjord gestures and then pulls Molly all the way to his feet. “The library?”
Molly lets out a residual giggle. “Fine, fine. Follow me, Captain.” He salutes with a smile.
They make their way through the corridors below deck into one of Caleb’s favorite haunts, the library they keep aboard.
Molly leads them in. With one hand wrapped around Molly’s forearm, Fjord commands him to point out just exactly where his hat was hidden, which he does.
Ah. The romance section, of course.
After a few moment’s inspection, Fjord raises an eyebrow, turning slowly back to Molly with an unamused, wide eyed look of annoyance on his face.
“Oh. You think you’re fucking funny, huh?”
“What?” Molly scoffs, then clambers in closer to see for himself. The shelf is… “What? No- no I- huh? T-this is where I put it.” He looks into Fjord’s eyes. “I swear!”
Beside a few books, along the bottom shelf sits: nothing .
“Sticking with that story are we?” Fjord rolls his eyes. “Looks like you need a little visit to Jester’s dungeon. Maybe that’ll jog your memory, hm?”
Molly goes violet, his free arm clamoring for a grip on Fjord’s. He squawks. “No, no wait! I don’t- I really don’t know where it is!” His eyes flicker, taking in the scene—processing.
“We’ll see how long that lasts. You must really be itching for punishment, hm?”
Molly’s voice is high and flighty as he babbles frantically. “No!” He denies, but then laughs for a moment at himself, as–well.. hadn’t he just been exactly that? “I mean-” He shakes his head. “I- I really don’t know! It’s- it must be somewhere! Jester! She- she set me up! Or Veth or- or, or one of the cats took it—” He peters off into nervous giggles as Fjord tows him out of the library by the arm.
“Sure, sure, the cats.” Fjord responds dismissively with a chuckle. “We’ll see about that.”
Molly’s mind reels with questions all the way down. Where could the hat be? Did someone sabotage him? Did someone simply find it and put it aside somewhere, Caduceus or Caleb cleaning up innocently? Where could it be? What was Fjord about to do? What did he get himself into? How did he eventually get out?
Fjord opens the door to Jester’s not-so-secret little dungeon below deck, pulling Molly in with him.
“Fjord, I really don’t know where-” He tries again.
Fjord laughs, smirking. “Come on. Up!” He instructs, frowning when Molly hesitates. “In we go.”
“But I really–”
“I don’t believe you.” Fjord cuts him off, putting a hand around each of Mollymauk’s arms. He guides him, sputtering, into the seat and then locks each arm into place.
Mollymauk squirms, unsure of what to do. Perhaps all he can do is just take it until Fjord does believe him.
Molly swallows as he watches Fjord lift the top of the stocks, grab his leg and guide his ankle into place. First one, then the other, they sit comfortably on the leather padding. Fjord flips the top back over and locks it into place. His gaze flicks back up to meet Mollymauk’s.
“So...” Fjord begins.
Molly swallows, unsure of what else to say to plead his case.
Fjord stretches, rolls his shoulders, then slides in close. “I don’t know what compelled you to lie to me, Mollymauk, but I’m gonna make you regret it.”
Molly opens his mouth, closes it without speaking. He squirms in his seat, held tightly in place.
Fjord throws a leg over the tiefling’s and settles in over Mollymauk’s thighs, straddling him once again. Molly blushes under the proximity, the annoyed scrutiny in Fjord’s eyes.
Fjord slowly wiggles his fingers in toward Molly’s ribs.
Molly sucks in a surprised breath and presses his back into the chair, going nowhere. He smiles nervously and giggles as the fingers close in. They begin to tickle lightly over his ribs on either side, reminding him how open his upper body is now. This time, there’s not arms pinned to his sides. There’s also no mattress in front of his face to hide and wail and cry into. He’s right here, stuck, directly in front of Fjord.
Fjord watches him weigh out his situation in live time, a bemused smile on his face. “I knew you were a glutton for punishment, but…” Fjord trails off, chuckling a little. He brings his fingers up to lightly poke and scratch under Molly’s arms, making him gasp and twitch and giggle. He does the same to his neck, his chest, his collarbone. Molly jumps and tingles with each touch.
“Last chance for a while, wanna tell me where that hat is, for real this time?”
Molly’s eyes are scrunched from laughing. “I hehehehehee I told you—”
“You still ‘don’t know’ hmm?” Fjord sighs. “Okay. I have a feeling you’ll remember later.”
He gets up, patting Molly’s cheek. He stands and walks over to a nearby cabinet, opening a door outside of Molly’s view and considering something or another inside. Mollymauk is all too familiar with its contents, though usually he is getting them for himself or handing them off to Jester. He smiles nervously, giddy with anticipation and a little tingle or fear, uncertainty.
Fjord comes back with a cloth gag, walking around behind the chair as Mollymauk squawks. “I- heh- I thought you wanted me to talk?! What’s this about?”
“I do. And you will. Eventually. For now, I want you to think real hard about where you left that hat of mine.” Fjord assures him, voice steady but teasing. “I’ll take this off …in a while.”
Molly feels the gag pull over his lips and grunts, wriggling indignantly. Fjord has it around and nearly in his mouth, though, and pulls tightly with one hand. There’s a sudden scribble under his arm, Fjord’s other hand, and Mollymauk shrieks out a little laugh. The gag slides into place easily.
“Mmmph!” He grunts in protest around it.
“That’s much better.” Fjord says, and Mollymauk rolls his eyes.
Fjord just pats his cheek, giving him a dark smile as he wanders down to the stocks. Mollymauk twitches his toes, squirms in his seat.
Fjord grips the base of Molly’s heels, making him jump suddenly at the contact. He runs his thumbs firmly up both soles, not tickling yet. He rubs into the balls of each foot for a moment, then each toe. Molly watches him suspiciously. Fjord fiddles with the tops of the stocks and Mollymauk’s heart sinks. He feels more than sees the first of the ties wrapping around his toes, keeping them in place and stretching out his foot. He shakes his head, pleading wordlessly into the gag.
Fjord ignores him and ties back the toes of his other foot. He claps his hands together when he’s done, smiling at his work. “Perfect. Now..” He brings a small stool out to sit on, and leans in close to examine Molly’s barely squirming feet.
Molly feels scrutinized, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He can’t quite see Fjord’s hands, or his own feet. He can’t talk. He can’t argue. He can only sit there, watch as his torment draws closer, and then take it for as long as Fjord decides to keep him like this. He squirms in his seat in a giddy, nervous excitement at the prospect.
Fjord traces down one sole, then the other, toe to heel and back up again. One finger on each, then two, then three. Molly is giggling into the gag, his feet unable to do anything to dampen or distract from the sensation. Fjord’s little smile widens, clearly amused by Molly’s suffering. He zeros in on a spot about an inch under his big toe and scratches there incessantly on both feet. Mollymauk squawks loudly into the gag before throwing back his head.
“MMMMFMFF MFFMM!” Molly shakes his head side to side.
Fjord scratches his nails up under his toes, and tickles there until Molly makes a distressing shriek behind the gag. He slows back down a moment, but tickles lightly all over his captive feet, his heels, his ankles, the sides and tops where he can reach, every inch of skin along his soles.
Molly loses track of how long it’s been and - briefly - why he’s even here in the first place. He’s so used to the tickling along his feet that when there’s a sudden pinch at his knee he jolts unexpectedly.
“Hey.”
“Mmm?” Molly says weakly, little tears forming in his eyes.
“You feel like fessing up yet?” Fjord asks with a gentle smile, standing and moving around behind Molly’s head to untie the gag. Molly nearly spits it out as he gulps in a few greedy breaths, trying to calm his residual laughter.
Fjord watches him, expecting some confession. Molly’s lip quivers as he watches Fjord with increasing desperation. “I… I don’t know…”
Fjord sighs, “you really are a stubborn one,” and in a moment he’s standing and walking back behind the stocks to pinch one toe in between his fingers. “How about I show you something Jester showed me?” He suggests, walking back over to the cabinet.
Molly watches him, quiet aside from fading giggles and fast breathing.
Fjord pulls out a bottle and two brushes, one of the writing, calligraphy variety, and another that looks to be wide, made of wood or something of the like, and used for combing hair. He walks back over, and –helpless to do anything else, Molly watches on curiously.
Fjord takes his seat back at the end, scoots forward a bit, and sets down his little tools. The bottle, when Fjord opens it high enough to remain in Molly’s sight, appears to have its own applicator brush attached to the lid. Fjord swirls the brush around a few times, soaking up the liquid, then pops it out. It disappears from view, and soon Molly jumps in his seat as the cool, slick liquid slides across his skin.
He can’t help a surprised giggle that escapes, and soon neither the laughter nor the slide of the brush can be stopped.
After a realistically-short but mentally-unending period of time, the slathering appears to be complete enough to Fjord’s liking. Molly twitches his toes and shivers. His feet feel cool, slippery, and ever so trapped.
“Now…” Fjord says calmly. He brings the calligraphy brush up and runs it under Molly’s toes, making him squeal.
“Waitwaitwait WAIT!” Molly shrieks. “Whahahahat is that?! That- that shit mahahahkes it so much wohohohohorse! Whatthefuhuhuhuck?! AhHHH! Nohohohoho!”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. You’re not getting your hands on our little recipe any time soon.” Fjord scolds, then adds with a smirk. “Nope. Just your feet.”
Molly dissolves into cackles and gasps as Fjord drags the small brush in swirling tickles across the canvas of his soles. It fits perfectly between his toes and all along the most ticklish lines of skin.
Fjord’s brush finds a particularly sensitive spot under and between his middle toes; he takes note of how running the brush over the tops of his toes makes Molly squirm. He takes his time, compares the bad spots on each foot to double check that they work in both spots. It’s devious, methodical, and Molly wishes almost more than anything that he could burn through the toe-ties with sheer force of will.
Fjord spends time tickling each foot thoroughly before he finally sets the tool down. Molly is sweating, voice hoarse from laughing. His feet are tingling with sensation even after he stops for a brief breather.
“Ah- Fjord.. Please..” Molly asks weakly.
Fjord looks back up at him. “Hat?”
Molly lets out a defeated groan, lolling his head to the side.
Fjord stands, and Molly watches as he pulls something out of his pocket — a long, thin, black band of cloth. Mollymauk’s eyes widen. “Wait! N-Not another gag!?”
“Nope.” Fjord confirms. He brings the fabric over his eyes and ties it behind his head. Molly pouts as it is tied into place, leaving him in darkness. “Now then, where was I?”
Molly shivers in the dark, listening carefully as his nervous system trembles with anticipation.
Something hard scratches down his foot–a bunch of ‘something’s, actually. It’s overwhelming, electric, incessant. It’s all Molly can feel and focus on as he screams out a wild, desperate laugh. “WhAHAHAT THEFUCKISTHAT?! HAHAHA AH- HahahahaHAHA!”
“I think you like this little guy, hm?” Fjord teases, scratching the brush just under his toes along the ball of his foot.
Mollymauk throws his head back against the back of the chair. The laughter tears out of him at a speed and intensity that surprises them both. “PLHEHEHEHEHEEEEASE!”
“Please what?”
“EheheHEHEHEHEEHEE- YOHOHOU’RE KILLIN’ MEEHEHEHEHE!” Molly whines through frantic laughter.
“Oh relax, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not gonna kill you.” Fjord speaks calmly, as though soothing a child. “I’m just gonna make you really, really wish you were dead.” His voice is sweet as the words drip out like honey, and Molly shivers from more than just the tickling sensations lighting up his soles.
“PFFFAHHAAHFUCK!” Molly cries — both in the sense of crying out aloud during his cackling, and in the other—more literal—sense, as tears bleed into the cloth tied over his eyes. He clasps and unclasps his fingers. He presses deeply into the seat and strains uselessly against the stocks — all for nothing. His laughter rings out boisterously as Fjord continues to scrub the brush up and down his foot, then switch to the other. Back and forth. Back and forth. Overwhelming, but never enough to get desensitized to in any one place.
“PLEHEEHHEEASE!” Molly shrieks.
“What happened to that attitude of yours?” Fjord snickers, looking up from his feet to take in Mollymauk’s squirming, desperate form.
“Don’t knohohohHOOW! I dohOHON’T know wHERE—” Molly babbles incoherently, still trying to bargain with his captor.
“You don’t know where your attitude went?” Fjord laughs, pulling the brush away from his soles for the first time in far, far too long.
Molly heaves in deep, shaky breaths. “I- heh- I… –what?”
Fjord hums, sounding amused. They sit in the ‘silence’ of Molly deliriously catching his breath.
“Maybe I should believe you…” Fjord says after a little time passes and Molly sounds a bit less frenetic.
Molly tries to give his best hopeful, honest smile. It’s hard without the eyes. He picks up the sound of Fjord getting up from his seat, a little relief washes over him.
Then the brush is back, and Mollymauk is wailing out a surprised bark of laughter. “WAITHAHAHA— WAIT!”
“--But, on the other hand..” Fjord sighs, bringing his other hand to tickle along the sole of Molly’s right foot as he brushes up and down his left. Mollymauk almost wishes for a gag with how loudly he shouts and shrieks through desperate laughter. The hand and brush switch. They switch back a little while later.
“Hmm.” Fjord says, stopping again after a few minutes. “What do you think?”
Molly whimpers, smiling defeatedly. “I thihihink I am going to die here.”
“Not if you tell me the truth.”
“I am telling yohohohou the truth.”
“Well, I have to make sure you’re not lying.” Fjord says, shrugging, and then the terrible brushing starts up again.
“Whyhyhyhyhy WHYHEHEHEHE would I STILL BEHEHEHE LYING?! HAHAAAHEHE- oh noOHO! Plehehehehease!” Molly argues as much as he can get out as he’s laughing.
“You tell me.” Fjord replies, not letting up. “Maybe you’re just a masochist.”
Molly definitely does not hate being on the receiving end of an evening like this, it’s true. He would take a moment to consider that if he had a brain cell that could focus on anything other than the incessant scrubbing of the hairbrush along his soles. It scrapes across the balls, the arches, the heel, up and down, up and down, over and over. The slick oily liquid covering his feet lets it glide with almost no resistance. All tickles, no resistance — yeah, Molly is probably going to die here.
He’s wheezing by the time Fjord stops again. He hesitates, half-pleading through his laughter, wondering when it’s going to start up again.
It doesn’t… And Fjord doesn’t say anything.
It still doesn’t… And then, finally, Fjord’s pulling down the blindfold. “Hey, there.”
Molly’s eyes adjust weakly to the light, the blindfold is damp with his tears. He mutters some kind of reply before closing his eyes again. “Fjord…”
“Mollymauk.” Fjord says, leaving the blindfold down around his neck and standing back up. He doesn’t even ask about the hat this time. “Would you like to know my favorite thing about this?”
Fjord points down to Molly’s slickened soles as he paces slowly back over behind the stocks.
“..What?” Molly asks, hesitantly.
“Well, we’ve gotta clean you up, and lucky for me…” He runs a finger across his sole and gets some of the silky liquid on it. “It’s. Edible.” Fjord says, then breaks into an enormous grin.
Mollymauk thrashes in his seat, feeling whiplashed and unable to do anything but convulse and shout and wiggle in place. “NONONO WAIT! WHATTHEFUCKFJORD- DON’TDON’TDOHOHOHON’T! NO NO NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!”
Fjord’s face sinks halfway out of view as Molly feels the swish of a tongue over his toes. He squeals and laughs frantically. Fjord pulls one toe into his mouth, tickles a pattern into it with the tip of his tongue. He draws in another and licks at the space between them, tickling absurdly more than Molly had anticipated.
Mollymauk is lost to laughter, squealing desperate pleas and wishing very much that he could get his hands on this concoction in the near future. Fjord haphazardly makes his way down his toes, licks a few stripes up each sole. Molly is wheezing by the time he’s done, tears streaking down his cheeks.
Fjord stops short of fully ‘cleaning’ the slick liquid from his soles, grinning up at an extremely disheveled and blushing Molly delightedly.
“Ahh.” Molly leans back, gasping in a breath. “Fuck, that was fucking—yohou’re a monster.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Fjord chuckles lightly. “Alright, come on. Out with it already. Let’s put an end to this.”
“I…” Molly bites his lip and looks down.
“You’re seriously still not gonna tell me?”
“I- I… buhuhut.. I’m nohohohohot lying.” Molly whines, tossing his head back. “I’m not.”
“Do I need to get the gag back out for a while?”
Mollymauk’s eyes go wide as his head snaps back up. “Fjord— plehehease, I- I don’t know hohohow much more of this I can take—”
Fjord doesn’t even acknowledge him, shakes his head once. “Nah. I have a different idea.”
Anticipatory dread settles in Molly’s stomach as he waits for whatever horrible idea Fjord has thought up now .
“Now, how about we try and get you to answer some other questions first, start small.”
Molly listens nervously. “…L-Like what?”
Fjord leans in close. “Like…” He looks Molly’s form over, scrutinizing again. He brings his hands in close and tickles lightly and precisely under Molly’s arms. “Does this tickle?”
Molly, already overly sensitized and giddy, breaks into laughter with ease. His hands form into useless fists and he squirms with the little give he has in the bondage. He shakes his head in surprise as he laughs.
“No?!” Fjord asks, with a delighted smile and mock-anger. “This doesn’t tickle one bit? What I’m doing right here?” He spiders his fingers and pokes into the soft, ticklish hollows.
Molly laughs frantically, catching on to the game. “I-It does! AHHH- hahaHA IT TICKLES- haha HA AHAHAHFUCK!”
Fjord continues with this line of questioning, finding all of the worst spots his hands can reach. “How about here?”, “What about this spot?”, “Does this one tickle, too?”, and “Are you sure?”.
Molly squeals and cackles at each new attack and point of contact. Fjord lingers in a few places, such as Mollymauk’s hips and ribs and bellybutton, asking over and over if he’s sure — like really sure, like really, really sure! And that he isn’t lying, of course.
Fjord reaches around behind the seat next, fitting his fingers between the panels of the back and scratching ticklishly at Molly’s shoulder blades.
“Does it tickle here?”
“YEHE-YEHEHES! FUAHAHA—”
“Oh it does?” And then the fingers slip out and are instantly back at that maddening spot high on his thigh. “How about here?”
“MMMF— OH FUCK! PLEHEHEASE! NOHOHO NAHAHAH STAHAHA— STAHAHOP!”
“Ohh, you can’t take it?”
Between cackling laughter, Molly shrieks. “NO!”
“Isn’t this juuuust what you wanted, though? And apparently still is, since you’re still stuck on your little fib.”
Molly shakes his head. “I DIHIHI-DIDN’T LIEHEHEHEHE PLEHEHEHEASE! FJOHRHRHRE EHEH— FJORD!” He snorts as he laughs hysterically in place. “NOHOHOHOT LYING- DOHOHON’T KNOW- DYHYHYHYHYING-”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Do I need to get the gag again?”
“NOHOHO!” Molly shrieks back.
Fjord focuses in, wraps his hands around either side of Molly’s thigh, and starts tickling maddenly light from every angle. Molly twitches violently, laughing. “Hahah FUCK! HHAHAHA AHHH HAHA Whahahahahat the fuhuhuhuck ahahhahHAHAHA!”
“Telllllllll meeeeeee.” Fjord practically sings. He stops the maddening tickle claw attack, only to move it to his other thigh and start again.
Mollymauk cries through cackling laughter, wishing he had something more to say.
He stands, returning to the back of the chair and finding Molly’s tail flailing nervously behind it, the only bastion of freedom in where he is bound. Fjord notes the double ring along the back that can comfortably house Jester’s tail for just such occasions, and he smiles. He takes the tail in his hand, and Molly gasps then shouts. “Wait! Wait–!”
“No waiting.” Fjord responds, wrestling the tail into place and locking the rings to keep it still. He grips just under the spade, holding the tail firmly. “Think we need to take things up a notch, in fact.”
“No- nononono what the fuhuhuhuhcuckck does that mehehehehean– Fjord dohohon’t- haHAA—” He cries as Fjord scratches, light and gently as ever, over the spade of his tail. The feeling shoots along his tail, along his spine, straight through his nervous system with a terrifyingly strong buzz. It’s maddening. Molly throws his head back into the chair and screams. Fjord tickles lightly over the skin, keeping his touch gentle and ghosting to tease the tiefling and short-out his mind temporarily.
“PLEHEHEHEHEASE I - I DOHOHOHON’T KNOW!”
“You want it worse than this? Really?” Fjord says, sounding surprised. “Okay… you asked for it.”
“NOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEEE AHHHAHA–”
Fjord leans closer, drawing in a deep breath, before he releases it onto the pinned end of his tail. The sensation vibrates against Molly’s skin and sets him freshly alight. He scream-laughs incoherent pleas until it ends. Then, Fjord lands another raspberry, and another, Mollymauk’s only relief being the brief moments it takes to breathe in.
“FUHDHJAANAAHAAHHAA HAHAHA NO HAHAH FJORDFJORDFJOOOOOORD AHHAHAA!”
He takes the tip of the tail into his mouth, nibbling it, and Molly wails, banging his head back again. He licks at the purple skin, traces the piercings with his tongue.
Mollymauk cries on the other side of the chair, pleading incoherently.There’s a lightning bolt of buzzing, tickling shock overloading his system. Fjord’s lips and scruff skate over Molly’s tail as he sucks in a breath for another raspberry. Fjord’s hands soon make themselves known again with what begin as featherlight scritches in his armpits. Molly tugs down as hard as he can, trying to free his arms but only stretching the muscles there tauter. Instead of an explosion of vibration, Fjord huffs out the breath he was holding and licks the spade of his tail again, dragging tooth and tongue over it, and Molly’s vision goes white. Sparks crackle through the few levels of conscious brain function he has that aren’t completely overwhelmed and consumed with how badly this tickles. Fjord uses the edges of his nails to scratch under both squirming underarms while tickling a horrible, evil, distressingly effective trail along the underside of the spade with his tongue. It’s everything and overwhelming and he can’t think or give him any answers and there’s nothing he can say to make him stop because he doesn’t know what happened to the stupid fucking hat and he isn’t stopping and—
“AHAHAL-LICORIHIHIHICE!” Molly gasps out desperately, wheezing through his cackles.
Fjord leans back, picking up on the safeword the Nein had established for just such situations, and his fingers still instantly.
“Ahaha aha! Please-” Molly wheezes desperately. “I’m- I’m not lying- I really don’t know! I- I don’t! That’s where I-hihi put it! I don’t know where it is! Please- pleasehehehe Fjord you have to stop! I- I can’t- p-please! You have to belieheheheheheve me–”
“Mmm.” Fjord hums, and it almost sounds scolding until Molly peaks an eye open and catches his smirk. “Yeah alright… I believe you.” Molly sighs, slinking back against the chair back. Fjord lets him relax into the chair a moment before he drops the other shoe. “…‘Cause I found your little hiding spot an hour ago and put it back where it belonged.”
Molly gapes at him. “You- what? Wait. Wait. Wait. So– so you, what - you planned this-? You- you knew the whole time? And you–”
Fjord chuckles. “Serves you right for trying to hide my shit.”
Molly exhales shakily, gaping. “Heh…” After a beat he smirks. “Jester is rubbing off on you.” His eyes flutter shut as his head leans back against the chair.
“Mmm. Next time I’ll bring her in for backup.”
Molly’s eyes shoot back open. He holds his palms open where his hands are shackled and shakes his head. “Now, now- no need for that.”
“Mmhmm. We’ll see.” Fjord grins. “I know you only took my shit so I’d do this.”
Molly scoffs, then sputters a bit before finds in the words, “Ah- I.. w-well, not… not– I didn’t know you’d…do this.”
“Ehh. You kinda deserved it.”
Molly attempts a shrug.
“You can just ask me instead of antagonizing me into making you cry, you know.” Fjord pats Molly’s hair soothingly and then reaches up to release one of his wrists.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Molly laughs weakly.
“Hmm.” Fjord chuckles at that. “True, and I have to say, it was priceless seeing your face when the hat wasn’t in there and you realized you were fucked . Oh man . I should’ve invited Jester, actually, so she could draw it for you.”
Molly turns to look at the far wall, magenta warming his cheeks. “You’re positively fucking evil, I hope you know.”
“Sure, sure.” Fjord chuckles along smugly, releasing his other arm. “And you love it.” It falls unceremoniously into Molly’s lap. The straps holding him and his tail back against the chair loosen and release soon after. Molly rubs his wrists gingerly, watching Fjord with a weary smile.
Fjord steps around to the stocks, along his way admiring the silly look of embarrassment that rarely graces Mollymauk’s features. With a twist and click, his ankles are free, and Molly draws them in weakly, rubbing at his ankles next.
Fjord takes a wrist in his hands and rubs at the muscle gently but firm. “Mmm.” Molly hums as his eyes fall shut, content to let Fjord continue after all he’d just been put through.
“You lasted a long time.” Fjord rubs his shoulders and cups the back of his neck. “Seriously, I’m impressed.”
Molly shrugs sheepishly, a blush still on his cheeks.
“Come on, let’s get you somewhere a little more cozy. I’ll bet I can get Caduceus to make us up some yummy tea.” Fjord scoops the limp ball of lavender tiefling the rest of the way up into his arms. He considers briefly, that perhaps this is not the best motivation to get the tiefling to stop fucking with his things. Then, with a soft smile, he carries him out of ‘Jester’s dungeon’ and back up to their creature comforts.