Hi everybody! My name is Lexi! I'm 26, use she/her pronouns, and consider myself a very ticklish tickling enthusiast! I like to say that I'm 102% lee—I'm just that lee!
I'm a polyamorous lesbian currently in a committed relationship with my precious girlfriend and forever play partner @poesparakeet-fics (we're long distance right now, but hopefully not for too much longer!) We're in the process of setting up both an OnlyFans and a ManyVids account where we'll be making lots of irl tickling video content, so keep an eye out for that!
Here's some tags I use frequently here on Tumblr:
#lexi speaks (general stuff about me, updates, etc) | #sapphicquillcontent (fics, videos, photos, everything!) | #sapphicquillfics (all my tk fics!)
And here's where you can find me elsewhere online:
This blog is a 100% safe space! Regardless of how you identify or what your kinks are, all are welcome here! I'm all about sex-positivity, body-positivity, and full acceptance of ALL LGBTQ+ identities ABSOLUTELY NO kink-shaming, hate, harassment, or bullying is allowed!
I will do my best to reply to ALL asks! I prefer public interactions with folks I don't know very well, but if you'd prefer we chat in private, just mention that in your ask! Please know that if I don't already know you, I probably won't reply to any private messages that you send without you giving me a heads-up you'll be sending one via an Ask!
I will always ignore: hate messages, trolls, bait asks, no age on your blog, blank icons, "hey" messages, any messages asking for roleplay or teases out of no where.
Thank you so much for reading and respecting my boundaries! I hope you enjoy all of my content!
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Shoutout to lees who don't brat, don't really fight beyond some involuntary thrashing, and immediately start laughing because they just like being tickled so gosh-darned much.
You're adorable and valid and so much fun to tickle.
I need the praise, I need to be told that I am loved and wonderful and that I matter, I want to be told that I’m pretty and lovely and worth all my bullshit and I just need it okay
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I love tickling smart people. Overthinkers, poets, PhD students, those who inspire and challenge me with their thoughts and words. Making their brains utterly melt into giggly chaotic pleading desperate mush with only a few of my fingers. Mmm.
Pros and cons of living with your real-life ‘ler in real life (from a ‘lee’s real-life experience and perspective):
PROS -
• getting tickles all the time
• the “I’m gonna tickle you when you get home” text
• getting used to being tickled yet, in spite of that, seemingly getting more ticklish every time??
• cheer-up tickles
• tickles to release frustration (100% a personal Fave)
• getting more comfortable w/ your body (tummy extra bloated today? still gets tickled. thighs with cellulite and scars? tickled. haven’t shaved? body hair helps amplify certain sensations, like the tickles you’re getting. feet a bit drier than usual? tickled. afraid to open your mouth in the a.m. because of morning breath? too bad you’re forced to open it because tickles. sweat/b.o./hair/fat/marks/dry skin/Y'KNOW THINGS THAT ALL HUMANS JUST CAN’T HELP??? DOESN’T CHANGE HOW TICKLABLE YOU ARE!!!)
• being tickled in public
• being tickled in public in a place where it’s inappropriate to make a scene aND BEING TOLD IN THE EVILEST QUIET VOICE NOT TO MAKE A SCENE
• tickles when you’re already happy to amplify the happiness
• being called cute 24/7
• VERBAL TEASES OUT LOUD RIGHT TO YOUR FACE
• TEASY FACES
• TEASY GESTURES
• inside faces/phrases/etc. your ‘ler gives you that outsiders are indifferent to bUT YOU KNOW THEY MEAN YOU’RE GONNA GET WRECKED IN THE NEAR FUTURE
• wake-up tickles
• casual tickly touches that aren’t anything big, they’re just a natural part of life that happens when you’re together, little ticklish touches that are as normal as a hand on the shoulder
• snuggly tickles
• car tickles
• interrogation tickles
• reward tickles
• punishment tickles
• tickle torture
• playful tickles
• gentle affectionate tickles
• tickles paired with pecky lil forehead kisses
• hug tickles
• tickle nuzzles
• tickle noms
• sharing tickle posts with the ‘ler in person aND BEING TEASED ABOUT THEM OR EVEN TICKLED BECAUSE OF THEM IN PERSON
• tickles that mean “I love you”
• tickles that mean “you’re a little shit and I can’t stand you right now (ps I love you)”
• bedtime tickles
• tickle massages
• massages AFTER tickles (good God if you think a regular massage is heavenly, you haven’t had one immediately post-tickles, like where the tickles just melt into a soothing rubdown, seriously fUCK IT FEELS GOOD MY DUDE)
• tickle aftercare - rubs, snuggles, your ‘ler getting you snacks and drinks and making sure everything is good and you feel good (personal Fave: having wrists and ankles rubbed after being in cuffs)
• when your ‘ler finds out how to get the UGLIEST laughter out of you and you’re absolutely mortified… until they tell you that’s one of their FAVORITE laughs of yours
• no matter how experienced you both get with all of this tickling, it still seems like each session leads to the discovery of a new spot or technique; delightfully surprising for you and the ‘ler
• FINDING OUT YOU’RE WAY MORE TICKLISH IN SOME PLACES THAN YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE. Lesson learned: self-tickles don’t tell you SHIT about where you’re ACTUALLY most ticklish when being tickled by another person
• the deep and raw trust exhibited when you’re tied down, helpless, at your ‘ler’s mercy, and they’re holding back your head to tickle your neck - leaving what is basically the most vulnerable and precious area of your body completely unprotected, yet it doesn’t even cross your mind to be anything but comfortable and enthusiastic, because your ‘ler only wants to make you laugh. It’s like a pet cat rolling over and showing you its belly. It’s saying, “You totally have the ability to kill me right now, but I know you won’t. I just want you to love me and make me happy. And I know that’s all you want, too. So let’s wrap up this sappy shit. Rub my damn belly already.”
• getting used saying “tickle”
• being tickled with feathers and other soft things you & your ‘ler find while shopping, outside, etc.
• using ANYTHING and EVERYTHING as a tickle tool (seriously we’ve used some OBSCURE SHIT that has ended up being THE MOST SHOCKINGLY EFFECTIVE SHIT)
• I haven’t really done straight-up roleplaying, but there have been little fiction or trope-inspired tickles that are tons of fun!!
• BEING PINNED UP AGAINST THINGS LIKE COUNTERS OR WALLS AND TICKLED
• being tickled standing up and your legs give out under you but your ‘ler hold you up
• bonding with your ‘ler
• always having discussions about boundaries and comfort zones
• consent and safewords
• the ‘ler being the most terrifyingly merciless monster in the world, yet stopping the instant you’re legitimately uncomfy
• ‘ler being stoic
• ‘ler being teasy
• ‘ler being smiley and laughing along with you
• 'ler growls
• 'ler hums
• being chased (and getting caught on purpose because tickles)
• playing games and getting tickled of you lose
• playing games and getting tickles if you win
• provoking your 'ler until they break and absolutely destroy you (provocations can either be being a sassy lil brat of being a teasy little 'lee)
• speaking of: being a teasy little 'lee. Toe wiggles. Stretches. Puppy eyes. Etc. And knowing how much they’re getting to the 'ler. And when it works.
• sneaky, discreet tickles when you’re with company
• REAL BIG TICKLES ONCE YOU’RE ALONE
• giving each other looks/getting tickles when something that COULD be interpreted as tickly (but really isn’t, you’re both just tickletrash) happens on TV or something
• 'lee and 'ler nicknames
• bEING MANHANDLED (ex: being picked up and thrown on the bed, having your ankles grabbed and being TUGGED down so you’re in a better position for being pinned, etc.)
• being treated and touched so so gently and with so much care as opposed to manhandling
• being comfortable with each other
• being asked what you want/the 'ler only wanting to do what you want
• the 'ler doing whatever THEY have the urge to do with you (to you), and you don’t get a say, you’re just helpless to stop it, but you don’t want to stop it (because of course they’d never have the urge to do something you didn’t want, and if you really did want them to stop, they always would)
• long talks about ticklishness, tickling fantasies, what you love and what you hate, what you want more of, what you want to try out
• trying out new things, experimenting and exploring, feeling out new territory carefully together
• 'LER DIVING RIGHT IN AND EXPLOITING IT IF YOU LIKE NEW THING
• purchasing “normal” objects and BLUSHING and being a flustered ball of awkward while checking out because they’re actually gonna be used as tickle tools
• feeling more loved than ever before
• knowing what you and your 'ler have is beautifully special, and not shared with anyone else in the whole wide world (for monogamous 'lee/'ler pairs like mine, I mean)
• having a tickle monster that’s hungry for you, and only you, all the time
• LOOKS whenever tickling comes up anywhere for any reason
• tickle innuendos
• being tickled with body parts other than fingers, like mouths/toes/hair/noses/eyelashes
• YOUR 'LER CAN’T HELP BUT TICKLE YOU ALL THE TIME AND THEY REALLY HAVE NO CONTROL OVER IT EEEEEE
• being tickled while you’re trying to talk or do something
• being tickled while you’re trying to ramble about something you’re uselessly worried over, so you’re forced to stop worrying and let go and laugh and be happy
• tickles when you’re in compromising situations (stretching, reaching for things, trapped/stuck/immobile in some way, holding things and not having hands free, just in a good position for tickles, etc.)
• tickles to cause AND get rid of hiccups
• when you’re half-laughing, half-legitimately kinda SOBBING because it just tickles so much it’s overwhelming
• being able to ask for tickles when you want and/or need them, and getting them. (this is a Big One hoo boy)
• your 'ler is your best friend, and tickling, although a very large and important and impactful part, is still only a PART of your relationship - a relationship that is still so special without tickling and has so many other important facets
• six pack
• THERE’S MORE BUT I’VE MILKED MY BRAIN OF ALL I CAN THINK OF AT THE MOMENT AAAAAAAHH
CONS -
• constantly being tickled to tears that ruin your makeup
• never want to dress in cute things that cover spots or make it harder to let go during tickles (like dresses that you can’t squirm in because you don’t want to flash your undies, or restricting jeans) and thus almost exclusively wearing t-shirts and shorts
• hair looks cute? ruined by tickles
• you can’t put your bare feet ANYWHERE and I mean literally ANYWHERE without them being tickled I swear to goodness
• blushing 24/7
• squirming always
• toes permanently curled
• fidgeting
• WHEN YOU CAN’T MAKE A SCENE BUT YOU’RE SO TICKLISH HOW DO YOU NOT LORD JESUS HELP
• getting sweaty and overheated by tickles in the summer because tickles/all that laughter is a workout
• laughing/screaming yourself hoarse
• sore throat
• sore abs
• bruises and sore spots from gargalesis
• fingernail marks
• ugly laughter
• LAUGHING SO HARD YOU FART OKAY LISTEN I HAVE TO INCLUDE THIS BECAUSE I’M TRYING TO SHARE WHAT REALISTIC TICKLE EXPERIENCES ARE LIKE FOR THOSE WHO DON’T KNOW AND THIS IS A REALITY OKAY WE’RE HUMANS HERE THINGS HAPPEN I’M SORRY IT DOESN’T HAPPEN OFTEN OR ANYTHING IT’S JUST A POSSIBILITY YOU GOTTA BE AWARE OF
• bathroom breaks/needing to safeword to prevent accidents (unless you’re into that, in which case no shame!)
• accidentally hitting/kicking/headbutting/scratching the 'ler
• …honestly these cons are all bullshit okay I lied and I love all of these things. Everything is a pro.
Gee, Tumblr would probably really hate it if you shared and spread this damning article … To the surprise of absolutely none of Tumblr’s LGBTQ users, it turns out the independent NYC human rights agency Commission on Human Rights (CCHR) found that Tumblr’s ham-fisted adult content ban in December 2018 disproportionately targeted LGBTQ users. The CCHR’s investigation revealed Tumbler’s moderation algorithms is demonstrably biased against queer content. As part of the settlement, Tumblr was obligated to review their prejudicial anti-gay moderation policies. Even more mortifyingly, they’ve also had to hire an expert on sexual orientation and gender identity (SOGI) issues and provide unconscious bias training to their moderators. I frankly doubt Tumblr has learned a thing from this humbling experience. Just recently the Tumblr algorithm flagged three ancient posts of mine as violating their terms. All three “offenders” were vintage homoerotic beefcake images (softcore by modern standards) roughly 50 – 65-years-old by Bruce of Los Angeles, Bob Mizer and Tom of Finland. (These are of course pioneering queer artists who routinely faced censorship and imprisonment in the fifties and sixties. Plus ca change!). They've been visible on my page - corrupting viewers - for years at this point. I appealed all three immediately. Only the Tom of Finland one was approved. The other two are now hidden. So, they haven't learned much. Apparently, Tumblr – who loves to declare how hip, youthful, inclusive and progressive their values are - wants to restore trust with their queer users. I’d recommend we remember their hypocrisy when Pride rolls around and Tumblr splashes rainbow flags everywhere and attempts to pink wash their image.
Caleb kisses him deeply and Essek sighs, luxuriates like a cat in a patch of sunlight. He trails his fingers idly through Caleb’s hair as it tumbles around his shoulders.
"Caleb Widogast," he sighs as Caleb pulls back to press their foreheads together.
But there's a pinch between Caleb’s brows, so Essek stops. Waits.
"Could you . . . Liebling--"
Essek quiets him with a gentle press of lips against lips.
"Of course," he says softly. "Bren."
Bren's breath hitches, then he sighs. The shape of the name still fits oddly in Essek’s mouth, but he feels the weight of it keenly, heart swelling at being entrusted with it.
"Bren," Essek says again, kissing Bren's cheek. "Bren." His brow. "Bren." His nose. Bren's eyes are shut tight but he leans into Essek's touch.
"Bren," he murmurs, and this time Bren surges forward to meet him, insistent and familiar.
Essek loves this man, every part of him. And he is so grateful to know and be known.
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love finding melt spots on a lee. It's not as ticklish there, but it still makes you blushing, giggly mess? You've never been cuter. You lean into it because it feels so good? It just gets better. Just gentle little scritches and kisses all over those spots work like a charm. Minimum effort, maximum enjoyment
A/N: Based on “Date someone who will give you back scratches when they’re reading or watching something next to you, and when you squirm they just smile because they know you love it and continue until you’re giggling up a storm. Better if they sigh slightly “You’re disturbing my peace” and tickle you more until you’re a puddle and they have the goofiest smile on their face.”
Words: 1.2k
—
Caleb doesn’t look up from the page when Molly walks into the library. He doesn’t even look up when Molly makes it over to the desk, trailing a finger over the wizard’s hunched shoulders. “And how are you doing this evening, Mr. Caleb?”
“Mm. Fine. And you?” Caleb replies, his gaze still focused intently on the text before him.
“Just fine, myself—was wondering if you’d like some company.” Mollymauk hops up onto the table, watching for a look, a glance, a little more attention. But, Caleb is dedicated, persistent—something Molly admires about him greatly. He leans back and spreads out amongst the pile of books and scrolls, knocking a few to the floor.
“You are just as bad as the cat, you know. Maybe worse.”
“And yet here we are in a home full of cats.” Molly’s voice is smug, teasing. “Do you just have a love for being close to beings that mess with you?”
Caleb rolls his eyes.
There we go. The eyes aren’t on Molly yet, but they are torn briefly from the book. An in.
Molly’s tail coils around Caleb’s wrist. “Take a little break with me, won’t you?”
Caleb huffs an almost laugh. “Maybe, in a bit.”
Mollymauk releases his wrist, pouting. He taps his nails a few times, thinking. His tail flicks.
A few minutes pass. He spins awkwardly on the table, knocking off a few more books and nearly tumbling into Caleb’s lap; he turns his head to give him a look—a rather cute, pleading, eyes-wide, I-need-you-to-pay-me-some-attention kind of look.
Caleb fights with a fond smile as his eyes flick up over the pages of the book to finally take it all in. “Alright, Liebchen.” He sighs, marks his page in the book, and closes it shut, scooting his chair back to stand. “Not a break, I’m not done yet, but… come.”
Molly sits up, stretches, and the pleased smile on his face is just as apparent in his eyes. He follows as Caleb gets up and makes his way to the much more comfortable, much better place to read —in Molly’s opinion. The sofa cushions are soft, and it’s long enough that Caleb can sit down and Molly can lounge about where he likes. The tiefling wastes no time crawling right into Caleb’s lap. He settles in face down, chin resting on his arms.
As soon as Caleb gets the book open and the bookmark safely set down, he reaches with the hand not holding up his reading materials to scratch gently at Mollymauk’s scalp.
Molly makes quite a few little sounds of approval as Caleb’s fingers card through his hair and he melts within a matter of minutes. Fingers slide gently down the back of his scalp, sending tingles down his spine as they travel down to his neck. Molly fidgets slightly, the feeling starting to prickle at the edge of ticklish. He hums, content and bubbly, against Caleb’s thigh and squirms into the nest of his own arms he’s made for himself in the wizard’s lap.
The fingers continue, light and gentle and soothing, to make their way lower onto his shoulders and upper back. It’s considerably more ticklish, but still bearable enough to release all of the silly energy with a hum and a few squirms every so often. As Caleb’s fingers trail languidly over Molly’s shoulders, side to side, he reads away above him, by all appearances not noticing the twitches below.
Each time fingers pass over a spot that hedges too close to ticklish to stay still, they continue on, not taking any extra time or particular care. But—the thing is, with how thoroughly Caleb is tracing over his back, scratching and caressing gently, he keeps going back to those spots, passing them over and over. And Molly already knows there’s a lot of them. It feels nice, it’s tingly and warm and close and just the right amount of teasing. He doesn’t want to give the wizard reason to stop any time soon, like squirming out of his lap after he just asked for attention. But also, he considers, maybe Caleb will abandon his studies and really have a go at him if he asks nice — it’s already gotten him this far.
For now, Molly opts to keep quiet, as still as he can reasonably maintain, and enjoy the affection. He’s gone with the flow many times in his life, and Caleb’s flow seems like one he would very much like to follow.
Caleb’s hand continues down, down, tickles along his back, down past his waist and Molly wriggles deeper into his lap and the couch. “Eehee- wa- heheheeEE—” He squeals into the crook of his elbow as Caleb’s blunt fingernails tickle softly over his ass, down toward the back of his thigh. “Fuck.” Molly hisses, muffled. The tracing, tickling wizard claw slowly makes it way down over his thigh to the back of his knee and Molly’s leg jerks closed involuntarily. “Nnggeh- naha shihit.”
“Be careful with those.” Caleb says sternly, an unmistakable peppering of amusement in his voice.
Molly whines quietly into his arms and lays his leg back out straight.
The game continues to build pace slowly, one hand always on the book and the other slowly tinkering with various sensitivities he can find on Molly. His shoulder blades, the backs of his ribs, his spine, anywhere near the dip of his waist or tail, the small of his back, his knees, his thighs, his ass… no where was left safe and unscrutinized. And yet, it was still so delicate, earnest, curious, and innocent. Little tingles and sparks light up across Molly’s nervous system. He’s content to live within this afternoon for the rest of his waking hours.
Then, the next time Caleb’s hand reaches up to turn the page of his book, it reappears just where the top of Molly’s thigh meets his ass. He gasps in a breath as the fingers wiggle, more deliberate and ticklish, over the skin there. They stay in that spot; unlike the skating, absentminded tickling of before — this has purpose, this has focus and intent.
Molly tries to peak up at him, abandoning his arm nest to turn and peer behind him. He gets a face-full of book for his trouble. And a pinch to the back of his thigh. He squawks at that, kicking the cushions behind him. “MmPFF!” He reburies his face to try hiding the bright laughter threatening to spill over.
“I’m trying to read, keep quiet down there.” Caleb, bemused, scolds cheekily from behind his book.
Molly rolls his eyes and tries to sit up on his elbows while fighting off more laughter. Without looking, Caleb runs a few fingers clumsily down his tail. Molly falters and crumples back into the wizard’s lap. “N-no fair.” Molly whines through his giggling. “Are yohohou gonna read all night?”
“It will take me a while, yes, if you keep distracting me.” Caleb replies, matter-of-factly.
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Okay, Kingsley never knew Frumpkin. He knew of the strays Caleb picked up here and there in Rexxentrum; the ship cats and strange breeds Kingsley seemed to collect on his travels. There was always a new set of kittens in the gardens, some with little collars woven with protective spells that would go off to new homes.
But he never knew Frumpkin.
Jester had drawn him a picture of the cat, and shown sketches she had done of everyone. She had shown him Mollymauk-- the strange brother who was so very loved he had never known-- but he had fixated on Caleb. The sketches of the wizard, hunched with a cat across his shoulders. A cat that showed up in most of the sketches; on Beau's lap, on Mollymauk's shoulders, curled in Yasha's cloak...
That's how Kingsley knew something was wrong.
The red moon had disappeared from the sky, yes. There was a web of light shifting through the sky, and magic was being stranger than normal. But it was the cat that let him know something was wrong.
The white cat didn't look like Jester's sketches. It looked like some spoilt ship cat that had just wandered too close to the throne room. It didn't look like it had ever begged for scraps in its life.
And it walked to Kingsley with a purpose that he had expected when he saw it. There was a note tucked into a ribbon around its neck, and he knew Jester's writing better than anyone. Sending was broken, she had made due with friends in the Feywild, it seemed.
"Hello," Kingsley crouched to look the cat over. Look for any hint of fey about it; "Frumpkin. What has the wizard gotten into now?"