summary: a story about two of my most central OCs, except their names are changed because they’re in the OC protection program. emmet invites prudence over to his apartment, prudence pranks him, and a silly time is had. platonic fluff, high amount of dumbass energy.
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Prudence Pace has gone too far.
This is the only thing going through her head as she tears through the living room of Emmet’s apartment, with the lad himself hot on her heels. His hair is plastered to his head. He is very wet and very angry. Prudence, a bucket of water, and a door may or may not have caused this.
She lets out a primal fear noise, vaulting over the couch to make a break for the door. But in an instant, Emmet has skidded in the way and blocks her only exit. She gasps, taking a few steps back, and stares back at her friend.
When he invited her over earlier today, he seemed to be in a good mood. A better mood than usual! Especially for this week. It’s been a slow work week, and so, the gang has lost their minds a little and taken to pulling various pranks on one another- save for Emmet. Bernadine worried that he wouldn’t take it very well, and so she deemed him off limits.
Fast forward to today. Prudence completely forgets this. Bucket full of water on a rope above Emmet’s bedroom door. Emmet opens the door. Does Emmet take it very well?
“Uh… E-E-Em…”
Prudence exhales a great amount as she’s crashed into, tackled to the soft carpeted floor. She flails, but he’s too quick. He pins both her arms under his knees and looms over her, cracking his knuckles. He doesn’t seem to be taking it very well.
“What were you thinking?” He slowly asks. There is a dark energy in his stare. Drops of water from his sopping hair fall onto the carpet.
Prudence is happy to lamely explain, trying to appear as innocent as possible. It helps that she feels incredibly helpless like this. She pulls at her arms.
“I… I was thinkin’… i-it was supposed t’ make you… laugh.”
“… To make me laugh?” A hint of a knowing smirk creeps onto Emmet’s face.
Prudence is 95% sure that this is finally the day that Emmet truly slaps her silly rather than emptily threatening her with it when she gets on his last nerves. But there is a glint in her friend’s eyes, and an excited, fluttery feeling in her gut, that both seem oddly familiar. They offer the other 5%; the percent that keeps trying to force a smile onto her face.
“Uhh… please don’t… beat me up?” She finishes unsurely. A drop of water splashes on her head.
Emmet rolls his eyes and raises his hands up off the floor. His expression transforms into a wicked, mischievous grin. “Oh Prue, please…”
He goes on talking, but Prudence only half hears it. She’s too busy focusing on his fingers, which happen to be wiggling in a very threatening way. It’s suddenly very clear what that feeling in her gut is. And what exactly is about to happen to her.
“I was not planning on beating you up.”
And then his hands swoop down and his wiggling fingers dig into Prudence’s stomach.
The poor kid’s yelp fills the apartment before it quickly dissolves into frantic, sputtering laughter. She squirms, tugging at her pinned arms and trying to kick out her legs, but Em just won’t budge. She’s super trapped. And super ticklish.
“It’s supposed to make you laugh, Prue!” Emmet taunts, spidering his fingers up and down Prudence’s sides. It makes her cackle even harder, encouraging him to attack them even more. “I’m making you laugh!”
It’s been… a pretty long time since Prudence has been tickled by anyone. Much less this mercilessly. So long that her brain doesn’t know what to make of the onslaught of tickling feelings right away, and when she tries to speak, it comes out more like this:
Em starts to snigger along with her, paying little mind to that weak attempt at a sentence. He carefully moves his scritching hands to her ribcage, ears pricked for any subtle changes in her laughter.
“So, just curious, where’s your most ticklish spot, love? Eh?” He politely asks.
“Sh-shuhuhuhuhut!” Prue shouts in reply, not even bothering with the “up.”
In response, Emmet rolls his eyes and wiggles the fingers of one hand against her neck. She squeaks and clamps her cheek and shoulder together, but the blunt nails on her ribs definitely still seem to be doing her in the most. She sputters something incoherent that Emmet can only assume is an attempt at snark or an insult that includes the word “foreigner.”
It’s cool, though. No way that she twists in either her limbs or her words is getting her out of the tickle zone right now.
“How’s it goin’?” Emmet politely asks, trying behind the ears.
The tickle victim writhes and giggles, and the only thing she can really get out is, “It tick—it t-tihihickles it tickles hahaha!”
“Pffft! No guff!” Emmet exclaims, forgetting how uncomfortably wet his head and shoulders are.
Prudence bonks her head against the carpet, letting the snorts and laughter tumble out of her. Through the short circuiting in her brain and the overwhelming feeling of the ceaseless tickling, she’s been very careful not to say one specific thing: “Stop.”
… There’s a reason for that.
Suddenly, as Em brushes his fingertips into Prue’s underarms to test ‘em out, she squeals and jolts, her laughter skyrocketing in volume and pitch. She struggles with all her little might, so much so that Emmet is caught off guard. Obviously, he’s just located that ticklish spot.
He grins from ear to ear, ruthlessly honing in her underarms while doing his best not to press down on her skin too hard. She is but a small, delicate idiot, after all. But there’s a nice little spot just under her armpits that seems to extract the most snorty, hysterical laughter, and he gleefully scribbles his fingers around that spot, listening to his friend’s doofy reactions.
Now seems like a pretty good time to make demands, he decides. And also… remember that he was supposed to be making demands in the first place.
“Ey. Prue. You’re gonna say sorry…?”
“I’m sohoHORRYYYY!” She cries, not missing a beat. “I’m s-SORREHEHEHEE!”
“And you’re gonna clean up the water.”
“Y-YEAH! YEAH! O-OKAHAHAY!”
“Alright. I’m gonna let y’go now.”
“Ahahawesome!” Prudence squeaks, running out of breath in a timely manner.
And just like that, Emmet slows to a stop and lifts his hands from Prue’s underarms.
Then, careful not to hurt her, he straightens up and takes the weight of his knees off her arms. He brushes himself off and rises to his feet, standing over Prue as she rolls onto her side. A breathless, giggling mess.
“Holy… god,” she wheezes. “I guh—guess I… deheheserved that…”
“You did.”
She hugs her stomach, trying to rub the ticklish sensations off of her. And then, wiping the tears from her eyes, she flops onto her back again, twitching and exhausted. It really has been a long time since she was tickled like that. That’s why she didn’t tell him to stop.
As overwhelming as it is, she… really missed that.
She peels an eye open to make eye contact with Em, who’s instead looking back toward his bedroom door.
A sizeable bucket, tied to a fixture above the door, and a substantial puddle of water spreading across the hallway’s wood floor. The crime scene. To be honest, a more elaborate prank than most people consider it to be. Emmet looks down at Prudence and points his thumb toward it. He smirks. “Truly, though, what were you thinking?”
“U-uhhuhuh,” Prudence begins, laughter still wavering her voice. Her pale face is tinted deep red, which is always a funny sight. “Me, Bernadine and Ed… we’ve been pr-pranking each other all week. I dunno why. We’re bored.” She clears her throat, finally sitting herself up.
“Bernie said ya appreciate not bein’ involved, but I din’t wanna leave you out.”
After a few moments of processing, Emmet’s smile subtly changes. He’s quiet for a bit, looking around aimlessly as Prudence beams up at him. He is now pretty clearly trying not to smile too much. He takes off his wet hoodie and slings it over his shoulder.
“And?” He finally says, gesturing to her on the ground. “What d’you think about involving me now?”
Prue snickers. “Actually… kinda makes me wanna prank ya more, honestly.” She raises an eyebrow at him, squinting. “Are you ticklish, Em?”
In response, he stares blinking down at her for several seconds. Then turns away, pinching the bridge of his nose. He walks toward the kitchen, chuckling.
“J-just… go clean up the water.”
Prudence leaps to her feet dutifully and runs back to the mess, and Emmet grabs a roll of paper towels to help her out. And to dry his damn hair. Neither of them can stop smiling.
i love sleepy tickles where the ler is sleepier than the lee is
there is just something so cute and charming about a ler who’s like “zzzz please cradle me and let me rest my head on your chest while i scribble my hands all over your tummy”
and a wide awake lee who is like i cannot believe someone this tired still has the presence of mind to want to make me laugh this much
Wow, I leave for like one hour and suddenly all the fetish blogs have my posts.
Look, I don’t judge lifestyles or interests, but there’s a reason I have “SFW” in my blog description. I really don’t like seeing one of my posts that’s meant to be SFW on blogs with nude women in bondage. It makes me super uncomfortable,especially when they comment something clearly NSFW on it. I didn’t consent to that, and neither did anyone else.
Sorry for rambling, I’m just sick of people ignoring my boundaries.
how would you write t-talk for a character who talks in like… shakespearean? i have this character who talks in a super flowery way basically all the time and they’re also super tickly with their S/O and sees tickling as a form of bonding, but i have no idea what kind of things they would say. the typical tickle-teasing phrases don’t seem to suit them
I’ve had this problem, too! It’s kind of tricky, but I tend to just go for the more loving and tender teases with those kinds of characters, like:
“Look at you, my darling, simply overcome with laughter. It fills my heart with so much joy to se you so happy. I could sit here and listen to you all day.”
It’s not my best example, but that’s how I get around it.
I am craving playful tickles so bad. I want to have a tickle fight. I want you to give me a few pokes to the side in the car when I’m being quiet. Tickle me when I’m winning at a game to get back at me. Nuzzle my neck when we hug. I just want soft playful tickles
You know, those types of scenarios where someone can't get away from the tickling is so cute. Like, Imagine being in a sleeping bag with a friend, when they start to run their fingertips over your sides and back, making you squirm and giggle.
You can't pull away because you're stuck in a sleeping bag with them! You would be at their complete mercy, because they have you trapped in there with their devious wiggling fingers, and they're close enough to whisper and coo til you're a vibrant red. Wouldn't that be so flustering and fun?
Then again. They are as trapped in the sleeping bag as you are. There's nothing stopping the tables being turned.
this might sound weird but do you ever see/write a character where you look at them and you’re just like.
“you deserve to be tickled.”
like not even in a mean tickling-as-punishment way and you don’t even know what it is about them, you just think they Should Get Tickled. Preferably Often.
The aliens are very diplomatic, and keep you around for the purposes of studying human biology and culture. You’ve spent a few months in their, ship, and become familiar with the three alien scientists on the mission.
They’ve never done anything to hurt you, and so you trust them for the most part. But one day, while sitting on the examination table, Khaikkax, the main scientist, discovers something… unusual, about you.
He prods your side, curious about whether or not he can feel your organ in there. You’d just finished telling him about the organs in your upper body, and his curiosity can’t be helped.
However, you find yourself squirming away from his long fingers.
“I’m sorry,” Khaikkax says, immediately moving his hand back. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, not at all,” you say. “It’s just a reflex, because I’m really ticklish on my side.”
Khaikkax perks up. This is a word he’s never heard before, and he likes to learn new words.
“What’s ‘ticklish’?”
You pause, realizing you’re in a bit of a pickle. You don’t want to spread misinformation to the aliens, but you’re a bit embarrassed by the idea of the aliens deciding to try tickling out on you.
“Oh, it’s just a human thing,” you say, knowing it would only inspire more curiosity. “It’s like, when light touches and poking and prodding make us laugh.”
Khaikkax nods after a moment. “Laughter is good, isn’t it?”
“It is, most of the time,” you say, then hesitate. “Though, tickling forces you to laugh, and some people don’t like it.”
“And, do you like it?”
You feel your cheeks turning red.
“Oh, your face is changing color,” Khaikkax says. “You told me that when it red, it means you are embarrassed?”
You blush deeper and shrug. “I guess tickling is kinda… embarrassing.”
“Why?” Khaikkax asks.
“I…” you shake your head. “I don’t know. It just is.”
“So you don’t like tickling?” Khaikkax asks. “Embarrassment is bad.”
“Not all the time,” you say. “Sometimes people are embarrassed about the things that they like.”
“So you do like it,” Khaikkax says, seemingly getting excited.
“I- didn’t say that,” you protest. “But uh… I guess, maybe it doesn’t bother me that much.”
“I see,” Khaikkax says. “Can you show me how to do tickling?”
You nod, somewhat awkward, and curl your fingers, moving them toward Khaikkax. You demonstrate the wiggly “tickling” motion.
“You want to go for the most ticklish parts of the body,” you say. “For humans, it’s the stomach, sides, underarms, feet, and sometimes the hips and thighs.”
“Are you ‘ticklish’ in all those places, too?”
You blush again, and Khaikkax, thankfully, doesn’t point it out this time.
“Ummm, I guess so,” you say.
“May I try out tickling you?” he asks. Your face can’t get any redder.
“I- uh- sure,” you stutter out, and Khaikkax mimicks your demonstration. He sticks his hands under your arms, and gently wiggles his fingers there.
You break into laughter.
You wonder, briefly, what makes this alien such a good tickler and why the hell you like it so much.
It terrifies me that there’s so much raging passion in the lgbt+ community that insist on marginalizing asexuals and implying that asexuals don’t deserve to have safe spaces. There’s still so much acephobia so I just wanna know which blogs are genuinely supportive and a safe space for asexuals
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