— | hi! my name is sana, and this is a kpop tickle blog! |
— | i just want to clear this up before there's any confusion—all idols in my fics are not meant to depict their real life selves!! it is just a portrayal!! |
— | i am a minor, and i am 16 years old! keep your suggestions to yourself |
— | i'm pretty introverted, but please don't hesitate to drop by and say hi! i'm very friendly once you get to know me!! my mbti is infj-t!! |
— | i am in fact taken!! @sirloncelot-of-bananas is my gf <3 |
— | i do not write reader / yn fics |
— | small disclaimer!! i am a ler and do sometimes do teases but i'll feel kinda awkward if you show up in my inbox just asking to be teased with like zero chat beforehand...it's just not the most comfy for me :( |
— | discord: itzmesv. |
— | i am also into sonic, atla, mcu, etc! |
— | i use she/her pronouns |
— | my favorite group is itzy!! |
— | request status - closed! <3 |
𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑:
— | skz tickle-verse community join link |
— | discord server for skz tickle-verse! |
𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:
— 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕:
-> boynextdoor
-> itzy
-> stray kids
-> aespa
-> ateez
-> dreamcatcher
-> enhypen (closed permanently)
-> multigroup
-> txt coming soon!
— 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔
— 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
— 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒑𝒔 𝒊 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏!
— groups i write for
𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒:
— 14
𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒:
#written by sana ⋆˚꩜｡ - all fics
#sana’s rants - just me ranting about random stuff
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
Seungmin swore the fluorescent lights of the locker room were judging him.
He kept his eyes fixed on his locker, a man on a mission. If he could just get his vest off, grab his coffee, and maybe crawl into a hole for the rest of his shift, everything would be fine.
The door swiveled open with zero regard for Seungmin's ever decaying personal dignity.
It was not going to be fine.
"Good morning, Officer Giggles~" Chan sang in his ear. "Someone had a great time yesterday, hm?"
Seungmin’s face, predictably, went nuclear. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He finally dared a glance over his shoulder. Chan was leaning against the row of lockers, a mean grin on his face. Minho was just staring at him with a blank expression, which was somehow the most terrifying of all.
“Don’t you guys have, like, actual work to do?” Seungmin groaned. He turned back to his locker, yanking the door open and hiding his flaming face behind it. “Criminals to catch? Justice to serve?” He clicked his duty belt on, adjusting the radio.
He kept it turned off.
He'd keep it turned off forever if he could. Maybe move to a different country. Change his name. Become a fisherman somewhere remote where no one knew what his laugh sounded like when he was being tickled half to death on his best friend's couch.
"I don't know what you heard, but none of that was me. The radio probably glitched. Connection, you know?" Seungmin shrugged, walking away from his locker. Chan and Minho took a second to follow.
Chan's smile widened into something almost disbelieving. "Oh, absolutely. Terrible connection. Could barely make out the screaming."
"There was no screaming."
"There was definitely screaming," Minho said, falling into step beside him. "I counted at least three distinct pitches. Impressive range, really."
"I—" Seungmin's face was already heating. "You're both delusional." He picked up his pace. They matched it effortlessly.
"Did you know," Chan continued, tone conversational, "That your laugh is actually really cute? I've never heard you laugh like that before. It's very...youthful. Like a puppy being tickled."
"I am not a puppy."
"You sound like one when you're being wrecked," Minho said.
Seungmin's ears were on fire. He could feel the heat radiating from them, could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. "There was no wrecking. There was no laughing. There was nothing."
"So the girlish squeal I heard around 1:47," Chan said thoughtfully, "that was just...what? A bird?"
"A very large, very distressed bird," Minho agreed.
"Trapped in your radio."
"Right. Of course."
Seungmin made it to the locker room door. He shoved it open, desperate for sanctuary, and—
Minho was faster.
He slid through sideways, planted himself in front of the desks, and crossed his arms again. His smile was infuriating. "I just want to say, for the record, I've never been prouder of Jeongin. That kid's got guts."
Chan chuckled. "I wanna hear it for myself. Watch out, Seungmin." He winked and strolled out.
Minho lingered a moment longer, studying Seungmin with an expression that was equal parts amused and genuinely fond. "For the record," he said quietly, "it's nice to hear you actually lose control for once. You're too serious. Jeongin's good for you."
Chan and Minho's apartment.
Big couch. Good TV. And more importantly, it was neutral ground—no one had to worry about rank or paperwork or the smell of stale coffee that seemed permanently embedded in the station walls.
Seungmin had been here a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. He knew which floorboard creaked, which couch cushion had the spring that poked you in the ass, and exactly where Chan kept the good snacks (behind the rice cooker, because Minho kept stealing them).
Tonight was supposed to be normal.
They had all just been chilling on the couch, unbothered, talking softly while passing around packets of Turtle chips and Gatorade. (Of course they're not gonna drink the night before work.)
Minho has been quiet. Seungmin caught him staring on more than one occasion. So Seungmin decided to liven things up. For a bit of entertainment of course.
He lunged. Minho's reflexes were good. Years of training, instincts sharp—but Seungmin was faster. He caught Minho around the waist and took them both down to the carpet in a controlled tackle that knocked the wind out of Minho's lungs.
"HOLY SHIT HE GOT HIM!" Changbin yelled.
"MINHO GET HIM BACK GET HIM BACK!" Hyunjin cheered over the phone.
Chan appeared in the kitchen doorway, spatula in hand, and watched the scuffle with an amused smile. "Minho, don't break him. He's got paperwork tomorrow."
"I won't break him." Minho grunted, trying to get leverage. "Much."
Seungmin was strong. He'd always prided himself on that. He worked out regularly, kept his body in good shape, could handle himself in a real fight if he had to.
But Minho was something else entirely.
Minho was wiry and relentless and seemed to have an instinct for exactly where Seungmin's center of gravity was. Every time Seungmin tried to shift his weight, Minho was already there, countering, pressing down, finding the weak points.
And then Seungmin's wrists hit the carpet.
Minho had him. Both arms pinned above his head in one of Minho's surprisingly strong hands. His knees were bracketing Seungmin's hips, sitting on his thighs, totally immobilizing him.
Seungmin's heart hammered.
"Okay," He said flatly. "Okay, you got me. Let go now."
Minho didn't let go.
He looked up instead, catching Chan's eye. "Channie hyung. Give me a hand?"
Chan set down the spatula and wandered over, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What do you need?"
"His arms. Keep them up."
Chan didn't even hesitate. He knelt down, took over holding Seungmin's wrists, and pressed them firmly to the carpet above his head.
Seungmin's eyes went wide.
"Wait—what, what's going on?"
Minho's hands went to the hem of Seungmin's shirt.
"Field test, Officer." Minho's voice was calm, clinical, almost bored. "You have to be able to fight back under the worst conditions. Distractions. Discomfort."
Seungmin's shirt untucked with a soft rustle of fabric. Minho pushed it up, exposing the pale strip of Seungmin's stomach, the defined lines of his toned midriff.
Changbin's voice piped up from somewhere to Seungmin's left. "Oh my god, he's doing it."
Conditions like what?" Seungmin asked, his voice climbing an octave.
Minho's smile was evil. "Conditions like this."
Minho goes for the ribs first. Of course he does.
"Come on, Officer Kim!" He teases. "You should be able to handle this, right?" Minho looks down at the wreck of a boy under him. "Awwwhh, is it too bad already?~"
"Nohohohohohooho!! NOHOT THEHEHERE!!"
“Oh, I love that." Minho's voice was syrup-sweet, devastatingly condescending. "I love how fast you break. Officer Kim Seungmin, top of his class, best marks in combat training, completely undone by a few fingers on his ribs."
"Fuhuhuck yohOHOHOHOHOU!!" Seungmin managed.
"Language, officer." Minho's thumbs found Seungmin's tummy and dragged his nails along the taut skin. "That's not very professional."
The sound that came out of Seungmin was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal. His whole body arched off the floor, straining against Chan's hold, but Chan held firm.
Minho's thumbs kept moving, from his tummy to his sides and then higher, pressing into the spaces between his ribs with relentless precision.
Chan helped by scribbling at the soft crook of Seungmin's elbow, trailing his nails up and down the inner bicep. Seungmin hadn't expected that to tickle so bad, but his own high pitched squealing giggles proved him wrong.
"Awwwhh, that's adorable." Minho crooned. "Is this bad? Is this really that bad?~"
Seungmin's head was thrown back now, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter so out of control it was almost silent. Chan was still holding his wrists, firm and steady, but his shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
"ITS SO BAD!! Ihihihit tihihickles so mUHUHUHUCH!!"
Minho laughs at that. "That is so cute. Jeongin was so right to exploit this all the time. I can't get over your little face right now!"
Seungmin lets out a frustrated sound, face stretched into the cutest scrunched expression of joy despite himself, grin spreading wide across his face, eyes folded into crescents.
And then Minho's nails were dragging along his lower belly.
Right below his navel. Across the soft, vulnerable skin just above the waistband of his pants. Slow. Deliberate. One hand on each side, fingers spread, nails scraping ever so lightly.
Seungmin's whole body seized.
And then he snorted. A tiny, cute little snort between his bouts and peals of giggles.
The others froze. Minho's face stretches into the most amused, happy expression Seungmin's seen on him in a while. "Is that a snort? Did you just snort? Oh my gosh, that's adorable. I'm gonna make you do that again."
"GAHAHAHAHA!! NO!! HYUHUHUHNG HYUNG PLEHEHEEASE!!" Seungmin wails as Minho attacked his lower sides and belly.
Rapid, scribbling scratches paired with his thumbs digging deep, and poor Seungmin was a goner, head shaking side to side, absolutely squealing with laughter. More snorts interrupted his peals of giggles.
"MIHIHINHO I SWEHEEHEHEHEAR!!"
Minho slows down hearing the frantic-ness of Seungmin's shrieking. He traced along the contours of his stomach with soft, lingering strokes, giggling along with the mess of an officer beneath him.
"I didn't know you were a snorter, Officer~" Chan teased from above him and Seungmin whines, burying his burning face into the crook of his own shoulder. "Shuhuhut uhuhup!! I cahahahan't help it!"
Minho swirls his nails along Seungmin's belly button. "I cannot believe you're hiding your face like a shy turtle right now. You're literally screaming!"
Seungmin was indeed screaming. Because Minho's finger had dipped into his belly button.
"CHAN HYUHUHUHUNG HELP ME!" Seungmin pleaded, his voice cracking.
Chan, the traitor, just sighed and tightened his grip, now scrunching his nails over the head of one shoulder, sending tiny ticklish sparks of tingling sensation up into his neck. "Sorry, Seungmin. You're in the field. No backup."
Minho beamed. "See? Even the training officer agrees." His fingers were relentless, merciless, but his eyes were sparkling with pure, unadulterated glee.
He was relishing this. He poked and prodded and scribbled until Seungmin was a giggling, gasping mess. His face was still buried in his shoulder, his protests reduced to incoherent squeaks.
"Stop stop stohhohohohohohop!!"
“Stop?” Minho cooed, his face the picture of innocence. “But we’re just getting started with the simulation. The perp is relentless. What would you do, Seungmin? What would you do in this high-stress situation?”
He punctuated the question by scratching Seungmin’s ribs, a sensation so overwhelming that Seungmin’s laugh turned high-pitched and desperate.
"I DONT KNOHOHOHOW!! GAAHAHAHA—I DONT HAVE A PLAN!" Seungmin wails.
"Awwww," Minho croons. "the baby turtle doesn't have a plan. He's just hiding his face because he's shy~"
"STOHOHOHOP TALKING!"
"Make me," Minho purred. And then he dug in.
His fingers found the spaces between Seungmin's ribs, wiggling and pressing with surgical precision. Seungmin screamed—a high, helpless sound that made Changbin nearly fall off the couch from laughing so hard.
"OKAY OKAY OKAHAHAY I GIVE UP I GIVE UHUP YOU WIHIHIHIN!!" Seungmin babbles. A last minute resort.
Chan finally lets up on his wrists and Minho scoots back, laughing with his head thrown back as Seungmin lay there, a red faced, exhausted mess.
Seungmin just groaned, burying his face in the carpet. "I hate all of you," he mumbled into the fibers. "Every single one. You're all dead to me."
Hyunjin laughs and turns his phone screen to the flattened officer. "Even him?"
Jeonginnie 💗 liked your message: Video Attachment
AAAAAH IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS I HOPE ITS GOOD!! please leave ur thoughts in ur replies and reblogs they make me so happy!
i have a lot to say about this chris brown situation. first of all the fact that liking his music became such a big and bad thing only after bts got called out on it?? when many other idols also did it and got off with zero consequence?? tsk tsk.
second of all, if we're all fighting to make bts take accountability, some people need to be aware of the many idols who actually supported and recommended his music to others.
if some of yall aren't aware, chris brown is an artist who physically ass@ulted rihanna in 2009 grammy awards, and he was put under trial for it. recently bts attended his concert and earned a shit ton of backlash from doing so.
some of these idols are also from groups i stan. but ignoring what they did does not help anything and thus we need to be aware of how many idols actually support him. even if its not possible to make them take that accountability we need to be aware.
so here's a list of idols who did openly support and recommend chris brown music, or have publically used it before, with some of them even calling him their ROLE MODEL:
rm bts
jhope bts
jimin bts
jungkook bts
v bts
bigbang taeyang
jay park
lee gikwang
taeyong nct
mark nct
heechan nct
blackpink
winter aespa
giselle aespa
yugyeom got7
jackson wang got7
bambam got7
baekhyun exo
kai exo
chanyeol exo
skz bangchan (yes, that bang chan, i know, i almost didnt believe it myself...)
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
Seungmin swore the fluorescent lights of the locker room were judging him.
He kept his eyes fixed on his locker, a man on a mission. If he could just get his vest off, grab his coffee, and maybe crawl into a hole for the rest of his shift, everything would be fine.
The door swiveled open with zero regard for Seungmin's ever decaying personal dignity.
It was not going to be fine.
"Good morning, Officer Giggles~" Chan sang in his ear. "Someone had a great time yesterday, hm?"
Seungmin’s face, predictably, went nuclear. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He finally dared a glance over his shoulder. Chan was leaning against the row of lockers, a mean grin on his face. Minho was just staring at him with a blank expression, which was somehow the most terrifying of all.
“Don’t you guys have, like, actual work to do?” Seungmin groaned. He turned back to his locker, yanking the door open and hiding his flaming face behind it. “Criminals to catch? Justice to serve?” He clicked his duty belt on, adjusting the radio.
He kept it turned off.
He'd keep it turned off forever if he could. Maybe move to a different country. Change his name. Become a fisherman somewhere remote where no one knew what his laugh sounded like when he was being tickled half to death on his best friend's couch.
"I don't know what you heard, but none of that was me. The radio probably glitched. Connection, you know?" Seungmin shrugged, walking away from his locker. Chan and Minho took a second to follow.
Chan's smile widened into something almost disbelieving. "Oh, absolutely. Terrible connection. Could barely make out the screaming."
"There was no screaming."
"There was definitely screaming," Minho said, falling into step beside him. "I counted at least three distinct pitches. Impressive range, really."
"I—" Seungmin's face was already heating. "You're both delusional." He picked up his pace. They matched it effortlessly.
"Did you know," Chan continued, tone conversational, "That your laugh is actually really cute? I've never heard you laugh like that before. It's very...youthful. Like a puppy being tickled."
"I am not a puppy."
"You sound like one when you're being wrecked," Minho said.
Seungmin's ears were on fire. He could feel the heat radiating from them, could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. "There was no wrecking. There was no laughing. There was nothing."
"So the girlish squeal I heard around 1:47," Chan said thoughtfully, "that was just...what? A bird?"
"A very large, very distressed bird," Minho agreed.
"Trapped in your radio."
"Right. Of course."
Seungmin made it to the locker room door. He shoved it open, desperate for sanctuary, and—
Minho was faster.
He slid through sideways, planted himself in front of the desks, and crossed his arms again. His smile was infuriating. "I just want to say, for the record, I've never been prouder of Jeongin. That kid's got guts."
Chan chuckled. "I wanna hear it for myself. Watch out, Seungmin." He winked and strolled out.
Minho lingered a moment longer, studying Seungmin with an expression that was equal parts amused and genuinely fond. "For the record," he said quietly, "it's nice to hear you actually lose control for once. You're too serious. Jeongin's good for you."
Chan and Minho's apartment.
Big couch. Good TV. And more importantly, it was neutral ground—no one had to worry about rank or paperwork or the smell of stale coffee that seemed permanently embedded in the station walls.
Seungmin had been here a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. He knew which floorboard creaked, which couch cushion had the spring that poked you in the ass, and exactly where Chan kept the good snacks (behind the rice cooker, because Minho kept stealing them).
Tonight was supposed to be normal.
They had all just been chilling on the couch, unbothered, talking softly while passing around packets of Turtle chips and Gatorade. (Of course they're not gonna drink the night before work.)
Minho has been quiet. Seungmin caught him staring on more than one occasion. So Seungmin decided to liven things up. For a bit of entertainment of course.
He lunged. Minho's reflexes were good. Years of training, instincts sharp—but Seungmin was faster. He caught Minho around the waist and took them both down to the carpet in a controlled tackle that knocked the wind out of Minho's lungs.
"HOLY SHIT HE GOT HIM!" Changbin yelled.
"MINHO GET HIM BACK GET HIM BACK!" Hyunjin cheered over the phone.
Chan appeared in the kitchen doorway, spatula in hand, and watched the scuffle with an amused smile. "Minho, don't break him. He's got paperwork tomorrow."
"I won't break him." Minho grunted, trying to get leverage. "Much."
Seungmin was strong. He'd always prided himself on that. He worked out regularly, kept his body in good shape, could handle himself in a real fight if he had to.
But Minho was something else entirely.
Minho was wiry and relentless and seemed to have an instinct for exactly where Seungmin's center of gravity was. Every time Seungmin tried to shift his weight, Minho was already there, countering, pressing down, finding the weak points.
And then Seungmin's wrists hit the carpet.
Minho had him. Both arms pinned above his head in one of Minho's surprisingly strong hands. His knees were bracketing Seungmin's hips, sitting on his thighs, totally immobilizing him.
Seungmin's heart hammered.
"Okay," He said flatly. "Okay, you got me. Let go now."
Minho didn't let go.
He looked up instead, catching Chan's eye. "Channie hyung. Give me a hand?"
Chan set down the spatula and wandered over, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What do you need?"
"His arms. Keep them up."
Chan didn't even hesitate. He knelt down, took over holding Seungmin's wrists, and pressed them firmly to the carpet above his head.
Seungmin's eyes went wide.
"Wait—what, what's going on?"
Minho's hands went to the hem of Seungmin's shirt.
"Field test, Officer." Minho's voice was calm, clinical, almost bored. "You have to be able to fight back under the worst conditions. Distractions. Discomfort."
Seungmin's shirt untucked with a soft rustle of fabric. Minho pushed it up, exposing the pale strip of Seungmin's stomach, the defined lines of his toned midriff.
Changbin's voice piped up from somewhere to Seungmin's left. "Oh my god, he's doing it."
Conditions like what?" Seungmin asked, his voice climbing an octave.
Minho's smile was evil. "Conditions like this."
Minho goes for the ribs first. Of course he does.
"Come on, Officer Kim!" He teases. "You should be able to handle this, right?" Minho looks down at the wreck of a boy under him. "Awwwhh, is it too bad already?~"
"Nohohohohohooho!! NOHOT THEHEHERE!!"
“Oh, I love that." Minho's voice was syrup-sweet, devastatingly condescending. "I love how fast you break. Officer Kim Seungmin, top of his class, best marks in combat training, completely undone by a few fingers on his ribs."
"Fuhuhuck yohOHOHOHOHOU!!" Seungmin managed.
"Language, officer." Minho's thumbs found Seungmin's tummy and dragged his nails along the taut skin. "That's not very professional."
The sound that came out of Seungmin was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal. His whole body arched off the floor, straining against Chan's hold, but Chan held firm.
Minho's thumbs kept moving, from his tummy to his sides and then higher, pressing into the spaces between his ribs with relentless precision.
"Awwwhh, that's adorable." Minho crooned. "Is this bad? Is this really that bad?~"
Seungmin's head was thrown back now, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter so out of control it was almost silent. Chan was still holding his wrists, firm and steady, but his shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
"ITS SO BAD!! Ihihihit tihihickles so mUHUHUHUCH!!"
Minho laughs at that. "That is so cute. Jeongin was so right to exploit this all the time. I can't get over your little face right now!"
Seungmin lets out a frustrated sound, face stretched into the cutest scrunched expression of joy despite himself, grin spreading wide across his face, eyes folded into crescents.
And then Minho's nails were dragging along his lower belly.
Right below his navel. Across the soft, vulnerable skin just above the waistband of his pants. Slow. Deliberate. One hand on each side, fingers spread, nails scraping ever so lightly.
Seungmin's whole body seized.
And then he snorted. A tiny, cute little snort between his bouts and peals of giggles.
The others froze. Minho's face stretches into the most amused, happy expression Seungmin's seen on him in a while. "Is that a snort? Did you just snort? Oh my gosh, that's adorable. I'm gonna make you do that again."
"GAHAHAHAHA!! NO!! HYUHUHUHNG HYUNG PLEHEHEEASE!!" Seungmin wails as Minho attacked his lower sides and belly.
Rapid, scribbling scratches paired with his thumbs digging deep, and poor Seungmin was a goner, head shaking side to side, absolutely squealing with laughter. More snorts interrupted his peals of giggles.
"MIHIHINHO I SWEHEEHEHEHEAR!!"
Minho slows down hearing the frantic-ness of Seungmin's shrieking. He traced along the contours of his stomach with soft, lingering strokes, giggling along with the mess of an officer beneath him.
"I didn't know you were a snorter, Officer~" Chan teased from above him and Seungmin whines, burying his burning face into the crook of his own shoulder. "Shuhuhut uhuhup!! I cahahahan't help it!"
Minho swirls his nails along Seungmin's belly button. "I cannot believe you're hiding your face like a shy turtle right now. You're literally screaming!"
Seungmin was indeed screaming. Because Minho's finger had dipped into his belly button.
"CHAN HYUHUHUHUNG HELP ME!" Seungmin pleaded, his voice cracking.
Chan, the traitor, just sighed and tightened his grip. "Sorry, Seungmin. You're in the field. No backup."
Minho beamed. "See? Even the training officer agrees." His fingers were relentless, merciless, but his eyes were sparkling with pure, unadulterated glee.
He was relishing this. He poked and prodded and scribbled until Seungmin was a giggling, gasping mess. His face was still buried in his shoulder, his protests reduced to incoherent squeaks.
"Stop stop stohhohohohohohop!!"
“Stop?” Minho cooed, his face the picture of innocence. “But we’re just getting started with the simulation. The perp is relentless. What would you do, Seungmin? What would you do in this high-stress situation?”
He punctuated the question by scratching Seungmin’s ribs, a sensation so overwhelming that Seungmin’s laugh turned high-pitched and desperate.
"I DONT KNOHOHOHOW!! GAAHAHAHA—I DONT HAVE A PLAN!" Seungmin wails.
"Awwww," Minho croons. "the baby turtle doesn't have a plan. He's just hiding his face because he's shy~"
"STOHOHOHOP TALKING!"
"Make me," Minho purred. And then he dug in.
His fingers found the spaces between Seungmin's ribs, wiggling and pressing with surgical precision. Seungmin screamed—a high, helpless sound that made Changbin nearly fall off the couch from laughing so hard.
"OKAY OKAY OKAHAHAY I GIVE UP I GIVE UHUP YOU WIHIHIHIN!!" Seungmin babbles. A last minute resort.
Chan finally lets up on his wrists and Minho scoots back, laughing with his head thrown back as Seungmin lay there, a red faced, exhausted mess.
Seungmin just groaned, burying his face in the carpet. "I hate all of you," he mumbled into the fibers. "Every single one. You're all dead to me."
Hyunjin laughs and turns his phone screen to the flattened officer. "Even him?"
Jeonginnie 💗 liked your message: Video Attachment
AAAAAH IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS I HOPE ITS GOOD!! please leave ur thoughts in ur replies and reblogs they make me so happy!
Hello it's the 🦫 anon again! May I request lee! Chan and ler! Minho please? Take all the time you need dear ♥️
-🦫
Unbreakable?
Words: 1.3K
Lee! Channie
Ler! Know
T/W: Rough tickling, restraints, use of those clip on fake nail thingies, EVIL teasy Minho
A/N: I'm actually ashamed at how long this took me, I'm so sorry 🦫Anon! But it's finally done, and I'm pretty happy with it...although I haven't really properly checked through for any mistakes since I'm tired and I want to go to bed so just ignore those okay? thank you ☺️
It wasn't often that the strong, unshakeable leader of Stray Kids got this flustered, but it was a sight that their resident cat was always delighted to be the cause of.
He'd been hard at work all day, riling up his dear hyung until he was a shy, blushy mess~
First, there had been the photoshoot, which had Chan wearing a thin tank top. Minho stood next to him during the group photo, his fingers slowly slipping under the material, scribbling lightly at the dip of his side. Channie stifled his giggles, and as soon as the photos had been taken, he cringed away from the second oldest.
"Hey- stahap!" He giggled, squeaking as the cat leaned in close to his ear.
"Just you wait, Channie...I'll pinch allll over these sides later~ you can never handle it there, can you?" Minho cooed, before walking away as if nothing had ever happened, leaving the leader bright red with a slack jaw.
Next, came the interview. Minho was sat behind Chan, and while he was speaking to the interviewer, he quickly latched his fingers onto the leader's ribs, vibrating his thumbs into the backs of them. Chan gasped, quickly shoving his hands away and clearing his throat. The other members his snickers, but were quickly silenced by a half-hearted glare from the eldest.
Once the interview was over, Chan cornered Minho.
"What was that?" He huffed, crossing his arms. Minho only smirked.
"Oh, don't you worry. I'll get those ribs later, hyung~ they always make you squeal." He whispered, before they were all whisked away to the cars to head back to the company.
Then, there had been dance practice. During their break, Minho crept up behind the leader, quickly swiping a finger down his spine. Chan arched with a squeal, feeling the mischievous cat rest his chin on his shoulder from behind.
"Awh...you have such a sensitive back, Channie~ I'll have so much fun scratching all over it with my nails! Aren't they getting long?" He murmured, scribbling under his chin to hear him squeak before slipping away.
Once they eventually got back to the dorms, Minho casually walked to his room, happy to sit and wait for their dear leader to finally seek him out to get the tickles he oh so desperately wanted. It was only a matter of time~
It was around 10pm when Chan had finally had enough. All he could think about was the teasing touches that had followed him all day, playing on his mind like a broken record. The fleeting brushes of fingers, the sharp spike of adrenaline, the barely contained gasp of shock and excitement, followed by Minho's stupidly teasy voice low in his ear had made him so jittery that he could barely sit still.
So, here he found himself, outside the door to the cat's den with his fist raised to knock. When he finally built up the courage to do so, he was met with an airy "come in~". He pushed the door open, carefully closing it behind him, his eyes locked on the floor.
Minho watched the older boy enter, a pleased hum leaving his lips as he stood up, strutting over to Chan with the elegance and deadly precision of a panther. He placed a single finger under his chin, tilting his head up.
"Oh, Channie~ are you finally ready for your reward, hm?~" He cooed, giggling delightedly at the leader's shy nod. He gently tugged him over to the bed, pushing him to lay down with his back to the mattress. He grabbed some soft scarves from his bedside table, as well as a small pouch that he placed next to him. He carefully tied each of Chan's wrists and ankles to the bedposts, making sure that they were secure but not too tight.
Wasting no time, he latched his hands on to his sides, kneading in to the plush skin with his thumbs. Chan squeaked, bucking his hips and squirming, deep cackles already shaking his shoulders. Minho switched to light pinches, fingers travelling up and down the leader's sides, back and forth between his lower ribs and his hips. Lino giggled at the shrill squeal the boy let out, leaning down to whisper in his ear.
"Aww...aren't you cute, hyung? Don't worry, I'll get you good~"
He pulled out a bottle of massage oil from the pouch, pouring some into the divot of his belly button. He dipped a finger in, swirling it around a little to make the lee squeak, before spidering his fingers all over Chan's stomach, the oil allowing his nails to skate gracefully across the soft skin.
"Fuhu- nohohoho! Stahahahap!" Chan cackled, bucking his hips to try and dislodge the mischievous cat. His fists clenched and unclenched, trying to dispell somenof the ticklish energy.
"Ohhh...is this too ticklish for you, hyungie? Are you too ticklish? Can the tough, unbreakable leader of Stray Kids not handle a few tickles?" Minho cooed, swiftly tracing his fingers up his sides to his ribs, scribbling meanly between the bones. Giggling at the muffled scream Chan let out, he poured a little more oil into each of the leaders armpits, scratching his nails into the tender skin on one side and massaging circles with his thumb on the other side.
"NOHOHO! MIHIHIHINO- STAHAHAHAP! I'M SEHEHEHERIOUS!" Chan shrieked, shaking his head back and forth frantically. Seeing how flushed the leader was, Minho lightened his touches to actual massaging, gently rubbing the oil into his skin to give him a break. Chan gladly took some deep breaths, melting into the mattress due to the light touches. He whined when Minho gently but firmly twisted him over onto his stomach, revealing his smooth back.
"Are you ready, jagi?" Minho purred, pouring a little oil at the top of his spine. He lightly raked his nails down his back, fluttering his fingers lightly over his lower back to make him arch just slightly.
"Nahahaha- thaHAHAHAhat's sohoho bahaHAHAD!" Chan cackled, muffling his squeals into the pillow below his head.
Minho flicked a finger back up his spine, spidering his fingers across Chan's broad shoulders.
"Awwh, you have such a ticklish back, Channie~ are you ready for the grand finale?" He cooed, reaching into the pouch again.
Minho used the fact that Chan was face down to his advantage, quickly putting on the fake nail extensions before dragging them down the leader's back. Chan choked on a squeal, goosebumps immediately spreading across his skin as the deliciously tingly sensations zipped up and down his spine like lightning.
"FUHUHUCKIHING- NOHOHO! STAHAHA- MIHINHOHO!" The older boy wailed, his laughter muffled by the pillow. The sharp nails had dull points to avoid actual harm, but they were pointy enough to make every nerve in his back light up with electricity.
Sensing the leader's growing fatigue, Minho pulled his hands away, wiping Chan's back down with a towel and putting the fake nails back into the pouch.
"Are you okay, Channie? Did I go too far?" He asked, gently rubbing the boy's back to help him calm down.
"I'm fihine, juhust tired." The leader reassured, sitting up once Minho freed his wrists and ankles. His face was still flushed pink, and his eyes were sleepy, worn out from the intense tickling he'd just been put through.
Putting the pouch back on the bedside table, Minho pushed the leader back down onto the bed, laying down next to him and pulling him into his arms. He gently ran his fingers through his hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
"Sleep, Channie. I've got you." He murmured, and with that, the leader's breathing evened out.
Maybe he'll finally get a full night's sleep?
AHH I KIND OF HATE IT...but I can't put this off any longer so this will have to do, sorry 🫣
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
Seungmin swore the fluorescent lights of the locker room were judging him.
He kept his eyes fixed on his locker, a man on a mission. If he could just get his vest off, grab his coffee, and maybe crawl into a hole for the rest of his shift, everything would be fine.
The door swiveled open with zero regard for Seungmin's ever decaying personal dignity.
It was not going to be fine.
"Good morning, Officer Giggles~" Chan sang in his ear. "Someone had a great time yesterday, hm?"
Seungmin’s face, predictably, went nuclear. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He finally dared a glance over his shoulder. Chan was leaning against the row of lockers, a mean grin on his face. Minho was just staring at him with a blank expression, which was somehow the most terrifying of all.
“Don’t you guys have, like, actual work to do?” Seungmin groaned. He turned back to his locker, yanking the door open and hiding his flaming face behind it. “Criminals to catch? Justice to serve?” He clicked his duty belt on, adjusting the radio.
He kept it turned off.
He'd keep it turned off forever if he could. Maybe move to a different country. Change his name. Become a fisherman somewhere remote where no one knew what his laugh sounded like when he was being tickled half to death on his best friend's couch.
"I don't know what you heard, but none of that was me. The radio probably glitched. Connection, you know?" Seungmin shrugged, walking away from his locker. Chan and Minho took a second to follow.
Chan's smile widened into something almost disbelieving. "Oh, absolutely. Terrible connection. Could barely make out the screaming."
"There was no screaming."
"There was definitely screaming," Minho said, falling into step beside him. "I counted at least three distinct pitches. Impressive range, really."
"I—" Seungmin's face was already heating. "You're both delusional." He picked up his pace. They matched it effortlessly.
"Did you know," Chan continued, tone conversational, "That your laugh is actually really cute? I've never heard you laugh like that before. It's very...youthful. Like a puppy being tickled."
"I am not a puppy."
"You sound like one when you're being wrecked," Minho said.
Seungmin's ears were on fire. He could feel the heat radiating from them, could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. "There was no wrecking. There was no laughing. There was nothing."
"So the girlish squeal I heard around 1:47," Chan said thoughtfully, "that was just...what? A bird?"
"A very large, very distressed bird," Minho agreed.
"Trapped in your radio."
"Right. Of course."
Seungmin made it to the locker room door. He shoved it open, desperate for sanctuary, and—
Minho was faster.
He slid through sideways, planted himself in front of the desks, and crossed his arms again. His smile was infuriating. "I just want to say, for the record, I've never been prouder of Jeongin. That kid's got guts."
Chan chuckled. "I wanna hear it for myself. Watch out, Seungmin." He winked and strolled out.
Minho lingered a moment longer, studying Seungmin with an expression that was equal parts amused and genuinely fond. "For the record," he said quietly, "it's nice to hear you actually lose control for once. You're too serious. Jeongin's good for you."
Chan and Minho's apartment.
Big couch. Good TV. And more importantly, it was neutral ground—no one had to worry about rank or paperwork or the smell of stale coffee that seemed permanently embedded in the station walls.
Seungmin had been here a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. He knew which floorboard creaked, which couch cushion had the spring that poked you in the ass, and exactly where Chan kept the good snacks (behind the rice cooker, because Minho kept stealing them).
Tonight was supposed to be normal.
They had all just been chilling on the couch, unbothered, talking softly while passing around packets of Turtle chips and Gatorade. (Of course they're not gonna drink the night before work.)
Minho has been quiet. Seungmin caught him staring on more than one occasion. So Seungmin decided to liven things up. For a bit of entertainment of course.
He lunged. Minho's reflexes were good. Years of training, instincts sharp—but Seungmin was faster. He caught Minho around the waist and took them both down to the carpet in a controlled tackle that knocked the wind out of Minho's lungs.
"HOLY SHIT HE GOT HIM!" Changbin yelled.
"MINHO GET HIM BACK GET HIM BACK!" Hyunjin cheered over the phone.
Chan appeared in the kitchen doorway, spatula in hand, and watched the scuffle with an amused smile. "Minho, don't break him. He's got paperwork tomorrow."
"I won't break him." Minho grunted, trying to get leverage. "Much."
Seungmin was strong. He'd always prided himself on that. He worked out regularly, kept his body in good shape, could handle himself in a real fight if he had to.
But Minho was something else entirely.
Minho was wiry and relentless and seemed to have an instinct for exactly where Seungmin's center of gravity was. Every time Seungmin tried to shift his weight, Minho was already there, countering, pressing down, finding the weak points.
And then Seungmin's wrists hit the carpet.
Minho had him. Both arms pinned above his head in one of Minho's surprisingly strong hands. His knees were bracketing Seungmin's hips, sitting on his thighs, totally immobilizing him.
Seungmin's heart hammered.
"Okay," He said flatly. "Okay, you got me. Let go now."
Minho didn't let go.
He looked up instead, catching Chan's eye. "Channie hyung. Give me a hand?"
Chan set down the spatula and wandered over, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What do you need?"
"His arms. Keep them up."
Chan didn't even hesitate. He knelt down, took over holding Seungmin's wrists, and pressed them firmly to the carpet above his head.
Seungmin's eyes went wide.
"Wait—what, what's going on?"
Minho's hands went to the hem of Seungmin's shirt.
"Field test, Officer." Minho's voice was calm, clinical, almost bored. "You have to be able to fight back under the worst conditions. Distractions. Discomfort."
Seungmin's shirt untucked with a soft rustle of fabric. Minho pushed it up, exposing the pale strip of Seungmin's stomach, the defined lines of his toned midriff.
Changbin's voice piped up from somewhere to Seungmin's left. "Oh my god, he's doing it."
Conditions like what?" Seungmin asked, his voice climbing an octave.
Minho's smile was evil. "Conditions like this."
Minho goes for the ribs first. Of course he does.
"Come on, Officer Kim!" He teases. "You should be able to handle this, right?" Minho looks down at the wreck of a boy under him. "Awwwhh, is it too bad already?~"
"Nohohohohohooho!! NOHOT THEHEHERE!!"
“Oh, I love that." Minho's voice was syrup-sweet, devastatingly condescending. "I love how fast you break. Officer Kim Seungmin, top of his class, best marks in combat training, completely undone by a few fingers on his ribs."
"Fuhuhuck yohOHOHOHOHOU!!" Seungmin managed.
"Language, officer." Minho's thumbs found Seungmin's tummy and dragged his nails along the taut skin. "That's not very professional."
The sound that came out of Seungmin was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal. His whole body arched off the floor, straining against Chan's hold, but Chan held firm.
Minho's thumbs kept moving, from his tummy to his sides and then higher, pressing into the spaces between his ribs with relentless precision.
"Awwwhh, that's adorable." Minho crooned. "Is this bad? Is this really that bad?~"
Seungmin's head was thrown back now, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter so out of control it was almost silent. Chan was still holding his wrists, firm and steady, but his shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
"ITS SO BAD!! Ihihihit tihihickles so mUHUHUHUCH!!"
Minho laughs at that. "That is so cute. Jeongin was so right to exploit this all the time. I can't get over your little face right now!"
Seungmin lets out a frustrated sound, face stretched into the cutest scrunched expression of joy despite himself, grin spreading wide across his face, eyes folded into crescents.
And then Minho's nails were dragging along his lower belly.
Right below his navel. Across the soft, vulnerable skin just above the waistband of his pants. Slow. Deliberate. One hand on each side, fingers spread, nails scraping ever so lightly.
Seungmin's whole body seized.
And then he snorted. A tiny, cute little snort between his bouts and peals of giggles.
The others froze. Minho's face stretches into the most amused, happy expression Seungmin's seen on him in a while. "Is that a snort? Did you just snort? Oh my gosh, that's adorable. I'm gonna make you do that again."
"GAHAHAHAHA!! NO!! HYUHUHUHNG HYUNG PLEHEHEEASE!!" Seungmin wails as Minho attacked his lower sides and belly.
Rapid, scribbling scratches paired with his thumbs digging deep, and poor Seungmin was a goner, head shaking side to side, absolutely squealing with laughter. More snorts interrupted his peals of giggles.
"MIHIHINHO I SWEHEEHEHEHEAR!!"
Minho slows down hearing the frantic-ness of Seungmin's shrieking. He traced along the contours of his stomach with soft, lingering strokes, giggling along with the mess of an officer beneath him.
"I didn't know you were a snorter, Officer~" Chan teased from above him and Seungmin whines, burying his burning face into the crook of his own shoulder. "Shuhuhut uhuhup!! I cahahahan't help it!"
Minho swirls his nails along Seungmin's belly button. "I cannot believe you're hiding your face like a shy turtle right now. You're literally screaming!"
Seungmin was indeed screaming. Because Minho's finger had dipped into his belly button.
"CHAN HYUHUHUHUNG HELP ME!" Seungmin pleaded, his voice cracking.
Chan, the traitor, just sighed and tightened his grip. "Sorry, Seungmin. You're in the field. No backup."
Minho beamed. "See? Even the training officer agrees." His fingers were relentless, merciless, but his eyes were sparkling with pure, unadulterated glee.
He was relishing this. He poked and prodded and scribbled until Seungmin was a giggling, gasping mess. His face was still buried in his shoulder, his protests reduced to incoherent squeaks.
"Stop stop stohhohohohohohop!!"
“Stop?” Minho cooed, his face the picture of innocence. “But we’re just getting started with the simulation. The perp is relentless. What would you do, Seungmin? What would you do in this high-stress situation?”
He punctuated the question by scratching Seungmin’s ribs, a sensation so overwhelming that Seungmin’s laugh turned high-pitched and desperate.
"I DONT KNOHOHOHOW!! GAAHAHAHA—I DONT HAVE A PLAN!" Seungmin wails.
"Awwww," Minho croons. "the baby turtle doesn't have a plan. He's just hiding his face because he's shy~"
"STOHOHOHOP TALKING!"
"Make me," Minho purred. And then he dug in.
His fingers found the spaces between Seungmin's ribs, wiggling and pressing with surgical precision. Seungmin screamed—a high, helpless sound that made Changbin nearly fall off the couch from laughing so hard.
"OKAY OKAY OKAHAHAY I GIVE UP I GIVE UHUP YOU WIHIHIHIN!!" Seungmin babbles. A last minute resort.
Chan finally lets up on his wrists and Minho scoots back, laughing with his head thrown back as Seungmin lay there, a red faced, exhausted mess.
Seungmin just groaned, burying his face in the carpet. "I hate all of you," he mumbled into the fibers. "Every single one. You're all dead to me."
Hyunjin laughs and turns his phone screen to the flattened officer. "Even him?"
Jeonginnie 💗 liked your message: Video Attachment
AAAAAH IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS I HOPE ITS GOOD!! please leave ur thoughts in ur replies and reblogs they make me so happy!
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
Seungmin swore the fluorescent lights of the locker room were judging him.
He kept his eyes fixed on his locker, a man on a mission. If he could just get his vest off, grab his coffee, and maybe crawl into a hole for the rest of his shift, everything would be fine.
The door swiveled open with zero regard for Seungmin's ever decaying personal dignity.
It was not going to be fine.
"Good morning, Officer Giggles~" Chan sang in his ear. "Someone had a great time yesterday, hm?"
Seungmin’s face, predictably, went nuclear. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He finally dared a glance over his shoulder. Chan was leaning against the row of lockers, a mean grin on his face. Minho was just staring at him with a blank expression, which was somehow the most terrifying of all.
“Don’t you guys have, like, actual work to do?” Seungmin groaned. He turned back to his locker, yanking the door open and hiding his flaming face behind it. “Criminals to catch? Justice to serve?” He clicked his duty belt on, adjusting the radio.
He kept it turned off.
He'd keep it turned off forever if he could. Maybe move to a different country. Change his name. Become a fisherman somewhere remote where no one knew what his laugh sounded like when he was being tickled half to death on his best friend's couch.
"I don't know what you heard, but none of that was me. The radio probably glitched. Connection, you know?" Seungmin shrugged, walking away from his locker. Chan and Minho took a second to follow.
Chan's smile widened into something almost disbelieving. "Oh, absolutely. Terrible connection. Could barely make out the screaming."
"There was no screaming."
"There was definitely screaming," Minho said, falling into step beside him. "I counted at least three distinct pitches. Impressive range, really."
"I—" Seungmin's face was already heating. "You're both delusional." He picked up his pace. They matched it effortlessly.
"Did you know," Chan continued, tone conversational, "That your laugh is actually really cute? I've never heard you laugh like that before. It's very...youthful. Like a puppy being tickled."
"I am not a puppy."
"You sound like one when you're being wrecked," Minho said.
Seungmin's ears were on fire. He could feel the heat radiating from them, could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. "There was no wrecking. There was no laughing. There was nothing."
"So the girlish squeal I heard around 1:47," Chan said thoughtfully, "that was just...what? A bird?"
"A very large, very distressed bird," Minho agreed.
"Trapped in your radio."
"Right. Of course."
Seungmin made it to the locker room door. He shoved it open, desperate for sanctuary, and—
Minho was faster.
He slid through sideways, planted himself in front of the desks, and crossed his arms again. His smile was infuriating. "I just want to say, for the record, I've never been prouder of Jeongin. That kid's got guts."
Chan chuckled. "I wanna hear it for myself. Watch out, Seungmin." He winked and strolled out.
Minho lingered a moment longer, studying Seungmin with an expression that was equal parts amused and genuinely fond. "For the record," he said quietly, "it's nice to hear you actually lose control for once. You're too serious. Jeongin's good for you."
Chan and Minho's apartment.
Big couch. Good TV. And more importantly, it was neutral ground—no one had to worry about rank or paperwork or the smell of stale coffee that seemed permanently embedded in the station walls.
Seungmin had been here a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. He knew which floorboard creaked, which couch cushion had the spring that poked you in the ass, and exactly where Chan kept the good snacks (behind the rice cooker, because Minho kept stealing them).
Tonight was supposed to be normal.
They had all just been chilling on the couch, unbothered, talking softly while passing around packets of Turtle chips and Gatorade. (Of course they're not gonna drink the night before work.)
Minho has been quiet. Seungmin caught him staring on more than one occasion. So Seungmin decided to liven things up. For a bit of entertainment of course.
He lunged. Minho's reflexes were good. Years of training, instincts sharp—but Seungmin was faster. He caught Minho around the waist and took them both down to the carpet in a controlled tackle that knocked the wind out of Minho's lungs.
"HOLY SHIT HE GOT HIM!" Changbin yelled.
"MINHO GET HIM BACK GET HIM BACK!" Hyunjin cheered over the phone.
Chan appeared in the kitchen doorway, spatula in hand, and watched the scuffle with an amused smile. "Minho, don't break him. He's got paperwork tomorrow."
"I won't break him." Minho grunted, trying to get leverage. "Much."
Seungmin was strong. He'd always prided himself on that. He worked out regularly, kept his body in good shape, could handle himself in a real fight if he had to.
But Minho was something else entirely.
Minho was wiry and relentless and seemed to have an instinct for exactly where Seungmin's center of gravity was. Every time Seungmin tried to shift his weight, Minho was already there, countering, pressing down, finding the weak points.
And then Seungmin's wrists hit the carpet.
Minho had him. Both arms pinned above his head in one of Minho's surprisingly strong hands. His knees were bracketing Seungmin's hips, sitting on his thighs, totally immobilizing him.
Seungmin's heart hammered.
"Okay," He said flatly. "Okay, you got me. Let go now."
Minho didn't let go.
He looked up instead, catching Chan's eye. "Channie hyung. Give me a hand?"
Chan set down the spatula and wandered over, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What do you need?"
"His arms. Keep them up."
Chan didn't even hesitate. He knelt down, took over holding Seungmin's wrists, and pressed them firmly to the carpet above his head.
Seungmin's eyes went wide.
"Wait—what, what's going on?"
Minho's hands went to the hem of Seungmin's shirt.
"Field test, Officer." Minho's voice was calm, clinical, almost bored. "You have to be able to fight back under the worst conditions. Distractions. Discomfort."
Seungmin's shirt untucked with a soft rustle of fabric. Minho pushed it up, exposing the pale strip of Seungmin's stomach, the defined lines of his toned midriff.
Changbin's voice piped up from somewhere to Seungmin's left. "Oh my god, he's doing it."
Conditions like what?" Seungmin asked, his voice climbing an octave.
Minho's smile was evil. "Conditions like this."
Minho goes for the ribs first. Of course he does.
"Come on, Officer Kim!" He teases. "You should be able to handle this, right?" Minho looks down at the wreck of a boy under him. "Awwwhh, is it too bad already?~"
"Nohohohohohooho!! NOHOT THEHEHERE!!"
“Oh, I love that." Minho's voice was syrup-sweet, devastatingly condescending. "I love how fast you break. Officer Kim Seungmin, top of his class, best marks in combat training, completely undone by a few fingers on his ribs."
"Fuhuhuck yohOHOHOHOHOU!!" Seungmin managed.
"Language, officer." Minho's thumbs found Seungmin's tummy and dragged his nails along the taut skin. "That's not very professional."
The sound that came out of Seungmin was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal. His whole body arched off the floor, straining against Chan's hold, but Chan held firm.
Minho's thumbs kept moving, from his tummy to his sides and then higher, pressing into the spaces between his ribs with relentless precision.
"Awwwhh, that's adorable." Minho crooned. "Is this bad? Is this really that bad?~"
Seungmin's head was thrown back now, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter so out of control it was almost silent. Chan was still holding his wrists, firm and steady, but his shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
"ITS SO BAD!! Ihihihit tihihickles so mUHUHUHUCH!!"
Minho laughs at that. "That is so cute. Jeongin was so right to exploit this all the time. I can't get over your little face right now!"
Seungmin lets out a frustrated sound, face stretched into the cutest scrunched expression of joy despite himself, grin spreading wide across his face, eyes folded into crescents.
And then Minho's nails were dragging along his lower belly.
Right below his navel. Across the soft, vulnerable skin just above the waistband of his pants. Slow. Deliberate. One hand on each side, fingers spread, nails scraping ever so lightly.
Seungmin's whole body seized.
And then he snorted. A tiny, cute little snort between his bouts and peals of giggles.
The others froze. Minho's face stretches into the most amused, happy expression Seungmin's seen on him in a while. "Is that a snort? Did you just snort? Oh my gosh, that's adorable. I'm gonna make you do that again."
"GAHAHAHAHA!! NO!! HYUHUHUHNG HYUNG PLEHEHEEASE!!" Seungmin wails as Minho attacked his lower sides and belly.
Rapid, scribbling scratches paired with his thumbs digging deep, and poor Seungmin was a goner, head shaking side to side, absolutely squealing with laughter. More snorts interrupted his peals of giggles.
"MIHIHINHO I SWEHEEHEHEHEAR!!"
Minho slows down hearing the frantic-ness of Seungmin's shrieking. He traced along the contours of his stomach with soft, lingering strokes, giggling along with the mess of an officer beneath him.
"I didn't know you were a snorter, Officer~" Chan teased from above him and Seungmin whines, burying his burning face into the crook of his own shoulder. "Shuhuhut uhuhup!! I cahahahan't help it!"
Minho swirls his nails along Seungmin's belly button. "I cannot believe you're hiding your face like a shy turtle right now. You're literally screaming!"
Seungmin was indeed screaming. Because Minho's finger had dipped into his belly button.
"CHAN HYUHUHUHUNG HELP ME!" Seungmin pleaded, his voice cracking.
Chan, the traitor, just sighed and tightened his grip. "Sorry, Seungmin. You're in the field. No backup."
Minho beamed. "See? Even the training officer agrees." His fingers were relentless, merciless, but his eyes were sparkling with pure, unadulterated glee.
He was relishing this. He poked and prodded and scribbled until Seungmin was a giggling, gasping mess. His face was still buried in his shoulder, his protests reduced to incoherent squeaks.
"Stop stop stohhohohohohohop!!"
“Stop?” Minho cooed, his face the picture of innocence. “But we’re just getting started with the simulation. The perp is relentless. What would you do, Seungmin? What would you do in this high-stress situation?”
He punctuated the question by scratching Seungmin’s ribs, a sensation so overwhelming that Seungmin’s laugh turned high-pitched and desperate.
"I DONT KNOHOHOHOW!! GAAHAHAHA—I DONT HAVE A PLAN!" Seungmin wails.
"Awwww," Minho croons. "the baby turtle doesn't have a plan. He's just hiding his face because he's shy~"
"STOHOHOHOP TALKING!"
"Make me," Minho purred. And then he dug in.
His fingers found the spaces between Seungmin's ribs, wiggling and pressing with surgical precision. Seungmin screamed—a high, helpless sound that made Changbin nearly fall off the couch from laughing so hard.
"OKAY OKAY OKAHAHAY I GIVE UP I GIVE UHUP YOU WIHIHIHIN!!" Seungmin babbles. A last minute resort.
Chan finally lets up on his wrists and Minho scoots back, laughing with his head thrown back as Seungmin lay there, a red faced, exhausted mess.
Seungmin just groaned, burying his face in the carpet. "I hate all of you," he mumbled into the fibers. "Every single one. You're all dead to me."
Hyunjin laughs and turns his phone screen to the flattened officer. "Even him?"
Jeonginnie 💗 liked your message: Video Attachment
AAAAAH IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS I HOPE ITS GOOD!! please leave ur thoughts in ur replies and reblogs they make me so happy!
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
Seungmin swore the fluorescent lights of the locker room were judging him.
He kept his eyes fixed on his locker, a man on a mission. If he could just get his vest off, grab his coffee, and maybe crawl into a hole for the rest of his shift, everything would be fine.
The door swiveled open with zero regard for Seungmin's ever decaying personal dignity.
It was not going to be fine.
"Good morning, Officer Giggles~" Chan sang in his ear. "Someone had a great time yesterday, hm?"
Seungmin’s face, predictably, went nuclear. He could feel the heat radiating from his cheeks. He finally dared a glance over his shoulder. Chan was leaning against the row of lockers, a mean grin on his face. Minho was just staring at him with a blank expression, which was somehow the most terrifying of all.
“Don’t you guys have, like, actual work to do?” Seungmin groaned. He turned back to his locker, yanking the door open and hiding his flaming face behind it. “Criminals to catch? Justice to serve?” He clicked his duty belt on, adjusting the radio.
He kept it turned off.
He'd keep it turned off forever if he could. Maybe move to a different country. Change his name. Become a fisherman somewhere remote where no one knew what his laugh sounded like when he was being tickled half to death on his best friend's couch.
"I don't know what you heard, but none of that was me. The radio probably glitched. Connection, you know?" Seungmin shrugged, walking away from his locker. Chan and Minho took a second to follow.
Chan's smile widened into something almost disbelieving. "Oh, absolutely. Terrible connection. Could barely make out the screaming."
"There was no screaming."
"There was definitely screaming," Minho said, falling into step beside him. "I counted at least three distinct pitches. Impressive range, really."
"I—" Seungmin's face was already heating. "You're both delusional." He picked up his pace. They matched it effortlessly.
"Did you know," Chan continued, tone conversational, "That your laugh is actually really cute? I've never heard you laugh like that before. It's very...youthful. Like a puppy being tickled."
"I am not a puppy."
"You sound like one when you're being wrecked," Minho said.
Seungmin's ears were on fire. He could feel the heat radiating from them, could probably cook an egg on his cheeks. "There was no wrecking. There was no laughing. There was nothing."
"So the girlish squeal I heard around 1:47," Chan said thoughtfully, "that was just...what? A bird?"
"A very large, very distressed bird," Minho agreed.
"Trapped in your radio."
"Right. Of course."
Seungmin made it to the locker room door. He shoved it open, desperate for sanctuary, and—
Minho was faster.
He slid through sideways, planted himself in front of the desks, and crossed his arms again. His smile was infuriating. "I just want to say, for the record, I've never been prouder of Jeongin. That kid's got guts."
Chan chuckled. "I wanna hear it for myself. Watch out, Seungmin." He winked and strolled out.
Minho lingered a moment longer, studying Seungmin with an expression that was equal parts amused and genuinely fond. "For the record," he said quietly, "it's nice to hear you actually lose control for once. You're too serious. Jeongin's good for you."
Chan and Minho's apartment.
Big couch. Good TV. And more importantly, it was neutral ground—no one had to worry about rank or paperwork or the smell of stale coffee that seemed permanently embedded in the station walls.
Seungmin had been here a hundred times. A thousand, maybe. He knew which floorboard creaked, which couch cushion had the spring that poked you in the ass, and exactly where Chan kept the good snacks (behind the rice cooker, because Minho kept stealing them).
Tonight was supposed to be normal.
They had all just been chilling on the couch, unbothered, talking softly while passing around packets of Turtle chips and Gatorade. (Of course they're not gonna drink the night before work.)
Minho has been quiet. Seungmin caught him staring on more than one occasion. So Seungmin decided to liven things up. For a bit of entertainment of course.
He lunged. Minho's reflexes were good. Years of training, instincts sharp—but Seungmin was faster. He caught Minho around the waist and took them both down to the carpet in a controlled tackle that knocked the wind out of Minho's lungs.
"HOLY SHIT HE GOT HIM!" Changbin yelled.
"MINHO GET HIM BACK GET HIM BACK!" Hyunjin cheered over the phone.
Chan appeared in the kitchen doorway, spatula in hand, and watched the scuffle with an amused smile. "Minho, don't break him. He's got paperwork tomorrow."
"I won't break him." Minho grunted, trying to get leverage. "Much."
Seungmin was strong. He'd always prided himself on that. He worked out regularly, kept his body in good shape, could handle himself in a real fight if he had to.
But Minho was something else entirely.
Minho was wiry and relentless and seemed to have an instinct for exactly where Seungmin's center of gravity was. Every time Seungmin tried to shift his weight, Minho was already there, countering, pressing down, finding the weak points.
And then Seungmin's wrists hit the carpet.
Minho had him. Both arms pinned above his head in one of Minho's surprisingly strong hands. His knees were bracketing Seungmin's hips, sitting on his thighs, totally immobilizing him.
Seungmin's heart hammered.
"Okay," He said flatly. "Okay, you got me. Let go now."
Minho didn't let go.
He looked up instead, catching Chan's eye. "Channie hyung. Give me a hand?"
Chan set down the spatula and wandered over, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What do you need?"
"His arms. Keep them up."
Chan didn't even hesitate. He knelt down, took over holding Seungmin's wrists, and pressed them firmly to the carpet above his head.
Seungmin's eyes went wide.
"Wait—what, what's going on?"
Minho's hands went to the hem of Seungmin's shirt.
"Field test, Officer." Minho's voice was calm, clinical, almost bored. "You have to be able to fight back under the worst conditions. Distractions. Discomfort."
Seungmin's shirt untucked with a soft rustle of fabric. Minho pushed it up, exposing the pale strip of Seungmin's stomach, the defined lines of his toned midriff.
Changbin's voice piped up from somewhere to Seungmin's left. "Oh my god, he's doing it."
Conditions like what?" Seungmin asked, his voice climbing an octave.
Minho's smile was evil. "Conditions like this."
Minho goes for the ribs first. Of course he does.
"Come on, Officer Kim!" He teases. "You should be able to handle this, right?" Minho looks down at the wreck of a boy under him. "Awwwhh, is it too bad already?~"
"Nohohohohohooho!! NOHOT THEHEHERE!!"
“Oh, I love that." Minho's voice was syrup-sweet, devastatingly condescending. "I love how fast you break. Officer Kim Seungmin, top of his class, best marks in combat training, completely undone by a few fingers on his ribs."
"Fuhuhuck yohOHOHOHOHOU!!" Seungmin managed.
"Language, officer." Minho's thumbs found Seungmin's tummy and dragged his nails along the taut skin. "That's not very professional."
The sound that came out of Seungmin was somewhere between a laugh and a squeal. His whole body arched off the floor, straining against Chan's hold, but Chan held firm.
Minho's thumbs kept moving, from his tummy to his sides and then higher, pressing into the spaces between his ribs with relentless precision.
Chan helped by scribbling at the soft crook of Seungmin's elbow, trailing his nails up and down the inner bicep. Seungmin hadn't expected that to tickle so bad, but his own high pitched squealing giggles proved him wrong.
"Awwwhh, that's adorable." Minho crooned. "Is this bad? Is this really that bad?~"
Seungmin's head was thrown back now, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter so out of control it was almost silent. Chan was still holding his wrists, firm and steady, but his shoulders were shaking with barely suppressed laughter.
"ITS SO BAD!! Ihihihit tihihickles so mUHUHUHUCH!!"
Minho laughs at that. "That is so cute. Jeongin was so right to exploit this all the time. I can't get over your little face right now!"
Seungmin lets out a frustrated sound, face stretched into the cutest scrunched expression of joy despite himself, grin spreading wide across his face, eyes folded into crescents.
And then Minho's nails were dragging along his lower belly.
Right below his navel. Across the soft, vulnerable skin just above the waistband of his pants. Slow. Deliberate. One hand on each side, fingers spread, nails scraping ever so lightly.
Seungmin's whole body seized.
And then he snorted. A tiny, cute little snort between his bouts and peals of giggles.
The others froze. Minho's face stretches into the most amused, happy expression Seungmin's seen on him in a while. "Is that a snort? Did you just snort? Oh my gosh, that's adorable. I'm gonna make you do that again."
"GAHAHAHAHA!! NO!! HYUHUHUHNG HYUNG PLEHEHEEASE!!" Seungmin wails as Minho attacked his lower sides and belly.
Rapid, scribbling scratches paired with his thumbs digging deep, and poor Seungmin was a goner, head shaking side to side, absolutely squealing with laughter. More snorts interrupted his peals of giggles.
"MIHIHINHO I SWEHEEHEHEHEAR!!"
Minho slows down hearing the frantic-ness of Seungmin's shrieking. He traced along the contours of his stomach with soft, lingering strokes, giggling along with the mess of an officer beneath him.
"I didn't know you were a snorter, Officer~" Chan teased from above him and Seungmin whines, burying his burning face into the crook of his own shoulder. "Shuhuhut uhuhup!! I cahahahan't help it!"
Minho swirls his nails along Seungmin's belly button. "I cannot believe you're hiding your face like a shy turtle right now. You're literally screaming!"
Seungmin was indeed screaming. Because Minho's finger had dipped into his belly button.
"CHAN HYUHUHUHUNG HELP ME!" Seungmin pleaded, his voice cracking.
Chan, the traitor, just sighed and tightened his grip, now scrunching his nails over the head of one shoulder, sending tiny ticklish sparks of tingling sensation up into his neck. "Sorry, Seungmin. You're in the field. No backup."
Minho beamed. "See? Even the training officer agrees." His fingers were relentless, merciless, but his eyes were sparkling with pure, unadulterated glee.
He was relishing this. He poked and prodded and scribbled until Seungmin was a giggling, gasping mess. His face was still buried in his shoulder, his protests reduced to incoherent squeaks.
"Stop stop stohhohohohohohop!!"
“Stop?” Minho cooed, his face the picture of innocence. “But we’re just getting started with the simulation. The perp is relentless. What would you do, Seungmin? What would you do in this high-stress situation?”
He punctuated the question by scratching Seungmin’s ribs, a sensation so overwhelming that Seungmin’s laugh turned high-pitched and desperate.
"I DONT KNOHOHOHOW!! GAAHAHAHA—I DONT HAVE A PLAN!" Seungmin wails.
"Awwww," Minho croons. "the baby turtle doesn't have a plan. He's just hiding his face because he's shy~"
"STOHOHOHOP TALKING!"
"Make me," Minho purred. And then he dug in.
His fingers found the spaces between Seungmin's ribs, wiggling and pressing with surgical precision. Seungmin screamed—a high, helpless sound that made Changbin nearly fall off the couch from laughing so hard.
"OKAY OKAY OKAHAHAY I GIVE UP I GIVE UHUP YOU WIHIHIHIN!!" Seungmin babbles. A last minute resort.
Chan finally lets up on his wrists and Minho scoots back, laughing with his head thrown back as Seungmin lay there, a red faced, exhausted mess.
Seungmin just groaned, burying his face in the carpet. "I hate all of you," he mumbled into the fibers. "Every single one. You're all dead to me."
Hyunjin laughs and turns his phone screen to the flattened officer. "Even him?"
Jeonginnie 💗 liked your message: Video Attachment
AAAAAH IT TOOK FOREVER TO WRITE THIS I HOPE ITS GOOD!! please leave ur thoughts in ur replies and reblogs they make me so happy!
I am sorry for asking that because I know requests are closed but will you release a hoodie by any chance?🥹 That series is my favorite because it’s SOOO CUTEEEE
ahhh no worries!! itll be a while before i release another hoodie part as i 1. dont have any lee! know requests and 2. i need to get through my other requests too TT but if i get a request for lee! know once they open, i will certainly be releasing another part soon!
Hum logo ko dikhana hai ki we cant be pushed around, we can handle shit! Mwahhhhhhhhhhh ❣️
Sending a billion hugs and more :3
brooo bahut bahut shukriya yaaarr :(( this means so much to me thank you for always being here >.< you have literally never failed me and hamara rishta bahut kaas ho gaya hai you're so special to me :D
you got this too okay?? IM HERE FOR YOU TOO AND I LOVE YOU
