𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙪𝙩𝙮~ 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙬𝙤
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 1.8k
𝙖/𝙣: @wonllitz cops.
warnings: pinning, rough tickles, soft tickles, teases, use of video recording
𝒍𝒆𝒆: seungmin
ler: chan and lee know
𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @hwaowiiii @jeonginsdiary @wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday @inkedloveandlostpromises @lajanaa
@skzdiary @skznccmlee @moony-9 @sunny-117 @minnielvrr @reginald-stay09 @lunalattae @just-hyunlix-things @skzrosey @kijaswrldd @shinywombatcrusade
@kawaiihaille20 @mars-hi1009 @gnabnahcnova @loveskz2901 @jeongin-lover08 @sirloncelot-of-bananas @livelovestraykids
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!
