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!
It’s just something like this for the lip balm thingy
Credits to whoever made the short: https://youtube.com/shorts/CbUsSrZNE_I?si=aX7Gym3r6mM8Wjah
And still no preasure. Btw the April fools thingy got me Airceisvsjsihdiwu.
𝙘𝙤𝙥 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙚𝙨, 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙙𝙪𝙩𝙮~
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨: 2k
𝙖/𝙣: if no one gets the title reference i will be INCREDIBLY sad. also seungmin is the cop here we know he's cute asf and i'm not okay :3 i've been watching too much of the rookie ik.
anyways happy birthday to me!! this one's kinda special hehehe >.<
𝙩/𝙬: manhandling, rough tickles, use of handcuffs (for restraint), mentions of gun (obviously not used), and a lil bit of humiliation at the end because embarrassed seungmin is my roman empire.
The city lights were just starting to smear into the early evening haze when Seungmin’s radio crackled with routine chatter. He was three hours into his night patrol shift, consisting of full uniform crisp, duty belt heavy at his hips, boots polished enough to reflect the light shining through his window.
The weight of the vest was familiar, grounding. He liked nights like this: quiet enough to think, busy enough that boredom never quite settled in, waiting for a call or some normal radio chatter to keep him occupied.
He was just about to take another sip of his coffee when his personal phone pinged. Once. Twice. Then three times.
Innie <333
HELP
come now
hurry hyung seriously
No emojis. No dramatic over-punctuation. Just those three short lines.
Seungmin’s pulse kicked up hard. Car accident? Break-in? Panic attack? Someone in the building? Ex showing up again? Worse?
He didn’t even radio dispatch. Just in case. He flipped the lights once, silent mode, dropped the car into gear, and peeled out toward the familiar route to Jeongin’s apartment like he’d driven it blindfolded a thousand times (because he practically had).
Six minutes later he was skidding into the guest parking spot he’d claimed as his unofficial one years ago. Door left unlocked (because of course it was), stairs taken two at a time, badge clinking against the buttons of his uniform shirt.
He didn’t knock.
He burst through the door like the apartment was actively on fire.
“Jeongin!! What the hell is wrong?!”
Hair wild from the wind and the frantic drive, uniform jacket half-open, chest heaving. Eyes scanning every corner for blood, broken glass, an intruder—anything.
Jeongin was standing in the middle of the room in an oversized hoodie and basketball shorts, hair fluffy and unbrushed, looking very much alive. And very much not bleeding. Not even a little bit.
He lifted one hand in a tiny wave.
“…Hi, hyung.”
Seungmin paused, hand still on his gun, eyes scanning the room for any intruder. Nothing.
Seungmin stared.
Then dragged a gloved hand down his face so hard the leather creaked.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Jeongin at least had the decency to look a little guilty. "I saw this lip balm online. And I couldn't find it. So I called you because my hyungie should be able to pick it up for me after shift right?"
“You sent me a nine-one-one level text… for a lip balm.”
“I said please!”
“You’re unbelievable.” He groaned. “You made me think you were bleeding out. Or kidnapped. Or on fire. Or all three at once.”
In one fluid movement—years of training and probably too much pent-up frustration—Seungmin tackled Jeongin backward onto the couch. The cushions wheezed under their combined weight.
Jeongin’s arms flailed for half a second before Seungmin caught both wrists in one large, gloved hand and pinned them above his head against the armrest. The boy's eyes widening in panic. “Hyung, wait—wait wait wait!!”
Seungmin’s free hand hovered for a dramatic second, fingers flexing like a villain in a drama, then dove straight for the soft dip under Jeongin’s ribs.
The scream that ripped out of Jeongin was immediate, high-pitched, and utterly devastating.
“HYUNG NOHOHOHOHO!! NOT THEHEHEHEHERE!!” Jeongin thrashed like a fish on dry land, laughter exploding out of him in helpless waves.
Seungmin’s voice dropped into something low, teasing, almost sing-song, the exact opposite of his earlier panic. “There is a serious emergency now, Jeonginnie.” His fingers spidered up under the hoodie, scratching lightly over the sensitive skin just above Jeongin’s waistband.
“Turns out Jeonginnie is way too ticklish~ How can Innie be this ticklish?? That’s dangerous. That’s a public safety hazard. I should probably arrest you for it.”
"PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! IHIHIHIHIM SOHOHOHOHHORRYYY!!" Jeongin howled. It came out more like a whine.
Seungmin skittered one hand right into the crease between his shoulder and neck, cooing at how Innie folded, giggling so hard, squirming in place as he tugged frantically at the officer's grip.
“Aww, listen to you,” Seung cooed, voice syrupy-soft and devastatingly fond. “Such pretty little giggles, Jeonginnie. You sound like you’re being murdered, but look at this face—”
His free hand came up to thumb away one of the tears sliding toward Jeongin’s temple. “—all red and shiny and smiling even when you’re begging.”
"Nohohohohhoo!! Hyuhuhuhungie COHOHOHOME OHOHOHON!! PLEHEHEHEASE!! I sahahahaid I was sohohohorryy!!" The younger stammered out, squealing as the hand travelled to his collarbones.
Seungmin tilted his head, studying him like a particularly interesting case file.
“You know what’s really dangerous?” he asked conversationally, fingers walking spider-light down Jeongin’s sides again, slow enough to make every muscle twitch in anticipation.
“The fact that you called me here on a fake emergency… wearing this big hoodie…” He tugged lightly at the hem that had ridden up to expose a strip of trembling stomach. “…with nothing underneath. That’s basically entrapment, Innie.”
Jeongin’s eyes went comically wide, even through the tears.
“I—I dihihihidn't!!”
“Didn’t think I’d notice?” Seungmin’s voice dropped lower, teasing, almost sing-song. “Didn’t think I’d want to punish my poor, helpless, ticklish little best friend for wasting police resources?”
His fingers plunged without warning—both hands now, since he’d released Jeongin’s wrists to brace himself better—digging into the softest parts of Jeongin’s waist and sides in quick, merciless squeezes.
Jeongin’s scream of laughter was so loud it bounced off the ceiling.
“HYUNGHYUNGHYUNG!! NO MOHOHOHORE—PLEASE—MEHEHERCYYYYY!!”
Jeongin’s face burned hotter—if that was even possible—and he tried to hide it in the crook of his elbow, but Seungmin just gently tugged the arm away.
“Nope. I want to see every second of this.” He leaned down until their foreheads almost touched. “Say ‘hyung, I’m too ticklish’.”
"Hyuhuhuhuhung, Ihihihi'm toohohoo tihihicklish!!" Jeongin whisper-giggled, squirming around even as Seungmin trapped his thighs with his knees.
“Louder.”
“HYUNG I’M TOOHOHOHOHOO TIHIHIHICKLISH!!”
Seungmin’s laugh was low, delighted. “That’s right you are.” And with that, he released his hold on Jeongin's wrists and let the boy curl up.
In the space of maybe three frantic heartbeats—0.3 seconds if Seungmin had been cruel enough to time it—Jeongin moved.
One second Seungmin was smugly hovering, still cooing over the mess he'd made of his best friend.
The next, the world flipped.
Jeongin hooked a leg behind Seungmin's knee, twisted his hips with surprising, explosive strength (where the hell did that come from?), and suddenly Seungmin was the one flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling in stunned disbelief. The couch cushions wheezed under the impact.
Before Seungmin could even suck in a proper breath to protest, cold metal clicked around his wrists.
Click. Click.
His own handcuffs.
Ratcheted tight, no give, the cold metal biting just enough into Seungmin’s skin to send a thrill of outrage through him.
“Jeongin-ah!” Seungmin gasped, tugging experimentally, muscles flexing under the uniform shirt. The cuffs held firm, linked to the sturdy wooden frame of the couch.
His heart hammered—not from fear, but from the sheer gall of his best friend turning his own gear against him. “You did not just—uncuff me right now!”
Jeongin’s eyes sparkled with pure mischief, leaning back to admire his handiwork. “Hyung came to my rescue, right? Best friends help no matter what.” His voice was all faux innocence, but his hands were already moving—deft fingers unbuckling the heavy police duty belt with a series of satisfying clinks.
The weight of it thudded to the floor, radio still attached, flashlight and baton rolling free. Then the shirt: buttons popped open one by one, exposing the white undershirt clinging to Seungmin’s heaving chest, the faint outline of abs tensed from the struggle.
Jeongin didn’t even hesitate.
Cool night air hit Seungmin’s bare stomach and he sucked in a breath so fast it sounded painful.
“Jeongin I swear to god if you—”
Jeongin didn’t let him finish.
He ducked down and blew the loudest, wettest, most obnoxious raspberry right into the center of Seungmin’s exposed tummy.
Seungmin’s reaction was instant.
A high-pitched yelp—borderline shriek—exploded out of him, followed immediately by full-body flailing. The cuffs rattled uselessly against the hood. His legs kicked out in wild arcs, heels frantically drumming into the bedsheets as laughter bubbled up in his throat.
"Oh, yes again." Jeongin retorted, gasping for air before ducking back down to get his belly button.
“STOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOPPP!!” Seungmin’s voice cracked into an uncharacteristically girlish squeal. “PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE—JEONGIN!!”
Jeongin lifted his head just long enough to coo, eyes sparkling with pure mischief.
“What’s wrong, Seungminnie?” His voice was disgustingly sweet. “You can take a taser to the ribs during training but can’t handle a little tummy tickling? That’s so sad, hyung.”
Seungmin’s face was already scarlet, but the humiliation dialed up to eleven when Jeongin’s fingers suddenly dove for his sides.
No warning.
Just ten wicked fingertips spidering up and down the sensitive skin right over his ribs, then digging into the hollows, then skittering back to the soft stretch over his hipbones.
Seungmin cackled.
Actual, full-throated, head-thrown-back cackling. Tears were already pricking the corners of his eyes. His whole body jerked like he’d been electrocuted—only worse, because electricity at least had the decency to end.
This was endless. Relentless. Everywhere he twisted, Jeongin’s hands were already waiting. Left side? Fingers. Right side? More fingers. Stomach? Another raspberry. Waist? Evil little pinches.
"NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE!!" Seungmin wailed into his arm. "IHIHIHIM DYIHIHIHIHING!!"
“Look at you. Big bad officer Kim Seungmin, completely wrecked by raspberries. I should take a picture. Frame it. Hang it in the station break room.”
“Jeongin—I swehehear to goOHOHOHOHOD!!!”
“You won’t,” Jeongin said cheerfully. “Not for a while.”
And that was when the radio crackled.
“Unit 47, this is Dispatch. Uh… everything okay over there? We’re getting… sounds.”
A beat.
Then Chan’s unmistakable voice, warm and way too amused.
“Seungmin-ah. You forgot to mute your radio again, didn’t you?”
Seungmin froze. His eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Jeongin's jaw dropped, and his head shot from the active radio on the floor to Seungmin's face like he was watching a tennis match.
Chan kept going, clearly grinning so wide you could hear it through the static. “Your laugh is cute, by the way. Very… youthful. Very endearing.”
A second voice—Changbin this time—cutting in with a snort. “Sounds like someone’s getting wrecked. Need backup, Seungminnie? Or should we just enjoy the show?”
Hyunjin’s softer laugh followed, lilting and evil. “I vote show. This is better than the drama channel.”
Seungmin’s face went from nuclear red to supernova. You could probably see the glow from space. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. No sound came out.
Jeongin blinked once.
Twice.
Then he scrambled off Seungmin so fast he almost fell off the couch.
“Okayokayokay—damage control—damage control—”
He dropped to his knees, fumbling with Seungmin’s shirt buttons, doing them up crooked in his panic. Fingers shaking. Then the undershirt. Then he grabbed the duty belt from the floor, hastily rebuckling it around Seungmin’s waist with all the grace of a startled raccoon.
Seungmin, still cuffed, still flushed to the roots of his hair, just lay there breathing hard and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for spontaneous human combustion.
Jeongin froze at the sudden movement of Seungmin's hands, still trying to scoop up the pillows that had fallen in the scuffle. "...What are you doing?"
Seungmin’s fingers—despite the cuffs—were already fumbling, twisting, working the key he kept hidden in his watch band (because of course he did, paranoid little shit).
The cuffs clicked open.
Jeongin’s survival instincts finally kicked in.
“Oh shi—” He dropped the pillows onto the bed, and bolted. "I'm going to the convenience store to get bribes!! I'LL BE BACK WHEN YOU DON'T WANNA KILL ME!!"
Seungmin sat up, grabbed the radio, and spoke in the most deadpan voice he could muster after being tickled half to death:
“…You’re all dead to me.”
Laughter exploded over the channel—Chan wheezing, Changbin cackling, Hyunjin making kissy noises. Seungmin turned the radio off. Completely.
Then he flopped back onto the couch, covered his burning face with both hands, and muttered to the empty apartment:
“I’m never answering his texts again.”
anyways i hope this was good...please give me feedback and stuff >.<
if you receive this, you make somebody happy! go on anon and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up.If you get one back, even better! ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )~☆
Director’s note: YOOO HIII btw btw I’m always taking reqs so like hem hem anyway IM SO SORRY I FINISHED THIS SO LATE I WAS PROCRASTINATING SM SORRYYY 😭 I love these two smsmsm aaaaaaa they’re so gay gay homosexual gay lesbians wlw ahahaha
Hey siri play Miss You by Conan gray
(Akari’s POV ₊˚✧
“I swear, I’ll see you on the weekends, and after school.. I could even break into Miya girls’ if you want me to!”
“B-but you’re transferring…” Minori sobs into her tissue, as I continue to pat her back. Shiho is standing behind us, very obviously blinking away tears.
“Come on, it’s only a few streets away! And like I said, we can meet up elsewhere besides school, and—“
My breath was suddenly knocked out of my chest as Minori SLAMMED INTO ME, wrapping her arms tightly around me—as a whole—and started sobbing into my shoulder.
“Stop making this sound normal! I can’t handle coming into school everyday and you’re not there..!” Minori sniffled, pulling back to look at me with those sad, watery puppy eyes. Damn, she really takes from Samo-Chan..
I could see Shiho turn away from us, shoulders shaking, and instantly feel a pang of pain for them. My best friend and girlfriend.. I wish I didn’t transfer.
But there’s no turning back I guess.. and that’s why I’m currently sitting next to Ainsley in the 2-B classroom in Kamiyama high school, daydreaming about that day whilst holding my pen and scribbling Involuntarily into my notebook.
I felt her nudge my shoulder, and I glanced at her before glancing back at the whiteboard… holy math equations.
Thank god I’m good at math, anyway…
I begin to scribble the equations onto my notebook, and then answering them just as fast.
That’s what my members liked to call my “strange talent”.
They have literally made a game out of it, we sit in a circle at break time, and they just spit out the random-est.. but of course, solvable math equations at me. And somehow, something in my brain clicks and I answer.
Correctly.
“Somehow”.
“How did you get that?” I hear Ainsley whisper from beside me, and I straighten up before I shrug at her.
I look to the left, where Kiyona and Toshiko were sitting, and almost snorted—
Kiyona had given up completely on the math equations, and was resting her head on her folded arms on the desk, trying to fall back asleep, whilst beside her, Toshiko had her hand on her head, trying to scribble a logical answer to the seemingly impossible equations.
Poor them, I smirk.
But I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself..
I wonder how Shiho, Minori and Kohane are doing back in Miya girls’—
“Aah—!” I let out a very… not embarrassing sound.. as I feel the back of a glitter pen press against my side.
“What were you daydreaming about?” Ainsley asks with that usual curious—and mischievous—smile. And I sigh.
“You seriously poked me to ask me that…?” I lean back in my seat, looking back at her with a “constipated” looking expression. For some reason.
“Would you rather I asked you to explain how to do these weird ass math thingies, Einstein?” She said. I look at her own notebook, half of the equations are written down whilst.. the other half is just doodles.
“Why would I ever tell you what I daydream about…”
“Because I’m your best friend and you totally trust me!”
I sighed again, and straightened up.. once again.
“I’ll tell you when class’s over, promise. Now, basically, what you do is…”
- After class.. 𐙚˚
I walk out of the classroom, clutching my sketchbook to my chest, the rest of them following behind me like ducklings. Typical.
Kiyona and Ainsley are bickering over the cherry cake in Ainsley’s lunchbox… probably over who takes the larger slice. And Toya and Toshiko were talking about the equations.
I dunno what was with them and the equations, to be completely honest… they were simple!
Ok maybe only simple to me.. but still!!
“So, what were you daydreaming about?” Ainsley asked again, catching up to me. Must’ve figured out the cherry cake situation…
“I forgot.” Lies.
“Uuuughhhh— I was dying to knowww, c’monnn…”
“What? You were daydreaming in class again?!” Kiyona chimed in, probably to tease me..
“At least I wasn’t sleeping in class again.” I countered, earning sputters and coughs from Kiyona and Ainsley yelling “BUUUURNNN!!!” as usual.. ok, maybe I don’t regret transferring all that much.
But they do remind me so much of Shiho, Minori and Kohane.
I miss them so much.
- Yamaguchi household, after school ♡ ₊˚‧
I logged onto discord to find the group already talking and texting and bickering about some stupid stuff.
This happens everyday.. and I’m not complaining either.
We always log onto discord after school everyday to call and compose together—it’s so fun. I love spending time with them like this…
Kiyona begins the call, and I join it along with the others.
Ainsley immediately opens her video cam and begins to talk excitedly into her mic about the latest drama happening in her palace-mansion-house-thingie.
Kiyona stays muted for a couple of seconds, checking if her mom was near the room, before turning on her mic and videocam too and adding commentary to the drama..
And Toshiko keeps her video cam open as she illustrates for our new music video.
I’ve memorized these moves like the back of my hand.. and that does sound creepy, but I guess that’s just what your mind does whenq you call the same 3 people everyday for a couple of months.
I turned on my videocam too before beginning to write some lyrics for a new song, probably the 5th I’ve written this week, pouring my feelings into it… recounting the daydreams, the thoughts, the love I have for the three girls on call with me right now..
My phone buzzes beside me.
I glance over, and it’s… Shiho!
I pick it up and open the notification, she’s inviting me to hang out at the cafe near our schools tomorrow.
Well, that’s something to look forward to.
I haven’t seen her in almost 2 weeks.. and that’s been a rough 2 weeks. Kind of.
I text back to agree and we chat for a bit before I hear sudden shouting in my headphones. I totally didn’t forget I was in a group call.
“AND THEN, MY 5TH BODYGUARD FELL DOWN THE STAIRS, AND MY 4TH CAUGHT HIM AND THEY ACCIDENTALLY KISSED!!” Ainsley said into her mic, and I heard Kiyona gasp and giggle.
And Toshiko smiled.
Oh my god, these three are so adorable— ok, I need to continue writing the lyrics.
“Wait, did we have homework?” Kiyona perked up suddenly in the middle of Ainsley gushing over how the two bodyguards should date, and the two froze.
“No, we didn’t. Don’t worry.” Toshiko reassures them after like.. 3 seconds. Clearly trying not to laugh at their panic.
The two sighed in relief at the same time, and Kiyona chuckled. I noticed Ainsley squinting suspiciously through her videocam… at mine.
“Akari, you’re being oddly quiet.”
“I’m writing.” I replied nnnoorrmally enough…
“Again? Isn’t this your.. 4th… 5th song this week?” Ainsley tilted her head at me.
“You should rest.” Toshiko said in her usual monotone voice… oh god, they’re all onto me.
“I’m bored, what else do you want me to do?”
“Rrrrresstttt??” Kiyona suggested, god, I want to throw a METAL PIPE AT HER—
“you’re acting as if you rest regularly. Which you don’t.”
Kiyona sputtered and coughed, Ainsley laughed hysterically, and Toshiko smiled, STILL TRYING NOT TO LAUGH—
“BUUUUURRNNNNN!!” Ainsley yelled into her mic, causing everyone (including me, unfortunately.) to laugh more, even Toshiko let out a sound akin to a chuckle.
A few minutes later of playful banter, the group call faded to silence, and everyone was doing their respective jobs. Kiyona even asked me in the chat to send her my unfinished lyrics so she could continue onto them.
I never want this warm feeling to end.
- The next dayˎˊ˗
I walked through the Kamikou hallway towards my locker.
the school was mostly empty, since it was fairly early. I always rode here beforehand to catch up on studies and whatnot, and it was quite peaceful. I liked it.
As I collected my notebooks and pens, I couldn’t help but look forward to this afternoon.. I’m so excited to see her.
I almost couldn’t sleep last night from how much I was anticipating the date.
I promptly closed my locker and fixed my tie and adjusted the red cardigan I chose today, I also made sure to tuck my shirt in so.. ahem… Shiraishi doesn’t chew me out again for it…
Anyway, I’d better head to my classroom now.
“HEEEYYYYYY!! GOOD MORNINGGGGG!!”
A very sudden, cheerfully loud voice snapped me out of my focus on the notebook in front of me, and I turned to see Ainsley skipping over to her desk next to me.
“HIII ARIEEEE!! HOW ARE YOUUU??”
“I’m doing great, what about you?”
“I’M DOING AWESOME!! I LITERALLY ATE— UHM— WAFFLES!! FOR BREAKFAST!!! WITH CHOCOLATE CHIPS!!!!”
she slid into her seat and peeked into my notebook to see what I was writing. Nerdy science notes, as she calls them.
“Wowwwww!! You’re so good at science, arie! You should teach me sometime~”
“Sure, whenever you’re free.” I shrug, smiling at her. She’s so sweet..
“Hmm, maybe not this month— oh, oh, oh! Right! Yesterday, I saw you looking at your phone in the middle of our call! Who texted you? Was it Shiho-Chan?? Did she text you some mushy things??? Give me all of the details!”
Ok, now I really believe her when she said she ate waffles with chocolate chips.. might’ve chugged down some cherry juice with that too. She’s so hyper, but she’s always hyper, anyway.
“I mean.. she just texted me to ask if I want to go on a date with her to that cafe near us. That’s all.”
“So I was right! It was Shiho-Chan! Hehe, you two are so cute together, awwwh~” Ainsley cooed at me, purposefully teasing me. Ugh, I hate her.
“Shut up before I set you up with Airi-Chan.” I shot back, blushing just a lil bit..
“You know I would be more than happy if you did that to me, Arie.”
“Shut up. Study. We have a science quiz today.”
“O-oh shoot! Really?! Why didn’t you say that earlier??!!”
Andddd that.. was a heck of a school day.
Because I’m too lazy to write all of the events so get a time skip..
We finally filed out of the classroom, together, once again.
They were all bickering over some would you rather thing, and I was just making them follow me out of the school like my own little pack of puppies.
I felt so warm.
“Okay, okay.. goodbye, guys, take care! I have a date unfortunately, so I can’t join the call when yall get back home.”
“Hehe, with Shiho~” Ainsley teased, and I quickly shut her up with a look. That look that said I will definitely be texting Airi that evening.
“Alright, have fun! It’s no worries, I’ll finish the lyrics for you.” Kiyona was always nice like that.
“Tell her I said hi.” I’ll make sure to note that in my mind.. tell Shiho that Toshiko says hi.
I finally waved them goodbye after we talked for a good 5 minutes even after that, and headed towards the cafe.
I know the spot—again—like the back of my hand. The back of the cafe, the booth we always used to sit at even before we dated.
It was always the warmest spot in the cafe, somehow, and we always snagged it first.
Good memories.
I smiled to myself as I pulled open the cafe’s glass doors and felt that usual cool breeze hit me.
The smell of coffee beans and freshly baked cookies.. I loved it so much.
I looked to the back of the cafe and spotted her almost immediately, waved enthusiastically before I skipped over and slipped in the seat across from her, smiling goofily.
“I missed you so much! It feels like forever since we last hung outttt— how are you?? What happened today? Did emu and saki annoy you again?”
Holy excited… I was pumped up.
We were talking for a solid hour (I don’t know how couples talk), even after getting our desserts, her ice cream was melting cause she wasn’t eating it.
And the whipped cream on my strawberry shortcake was also melting, but I didn’t mind.
After a few minutes of comfortable silence, and me definitely not getting lost in her eyes over and over again..
“So.. do you want to go back to my place?” She asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
I nodded in agreement, having went to her place multiple times. Her mom and sister were always so sweet, always making sure I never left hungry or anything.. especially her mom.
Anyway, so we both got up (after paying, of course) and walked HAND IN HAND out of the cafe.
She was telling me about how their recent concert went, little did she know I had attended their concert.. but, still, it’s worth it hearing her talk about it all excitedly like that. I can listen to her talk forever..
I pushed open the door to the hinomori household for her (odd, I know), and greeted her mother, her sister gasping before hugging me and—almost—crushing my lungs, but not like I minded anyway.
And then we were both sitting huddled up on her bed side by side, doodling each other.
I loved her room. It was always so tidy and cozy and… yea.
And plus, the doodling was my idea.
Just saying.
“Are you drawing my bass next to me?” Shiho asked as she looked over at my paper, surprised that I had memorized how her bass looked. I mean.. I’ve memorized all of the band’s instruments. I don’t blame her for being surprised.
“Mmmmaybeee… you’re drawing hearts. Awwh, you’re so in love with me~” I teased, giggling when she huffed at me, blushing. Adorable.
“Shut up, you literally have a dozen doodles of me in your notebook.”
“W-what?! How’d you know?!!”
“Someone told me.”
“Shut it…”
“Respect your elders.”
“How are you older than me?!”
“Darling, you’re born in December. I’m born in January.”
“That’s 11 months, makes no difference.”
“That’s almost a year.”
She turned to me, and my gaze faltered for a moment and suddenly I was pinned down by her on her mattress.
“So you want to know what happens when you don’t respect your elders~?”
“Your tone is scaring me… and why are you pinning me down.”
I remember this… I had pinned down shiho and tickled her just last month. Is she getting revenge on me? It’s not my fault she didn’t tell me she was ticklish first.
“I’m taking revenge, of course, what do you think?”
Gulp.
Well shit, At least I called it—
“And what’s convenient is that you wrote your tickle spots in your notebook too.”
Douuuublee shit.
“You’re also horribly ticklish on your sides, you adorable hypocrite.”
And with that, she started squeezing my sides. In the same way I did to her.
That did feel horribly ticklish.
I desperately tried to keep my mouth shut and be quiet, to prove my non existent point.. (I had already lost) but I failed at that too. Fuck.
And unfortunately the most embarrassing laughter started spilling from my mouth.
And I felt my cheeks heating up at an alarming rate.
Ugh, I hated this. (No I didn’t)
I held onto Shiho’s wrists tightly, which didn’t do anything, but I just liked holding her wrists. Eh. She’s my girlfriend, I can hold her hands anytime I want to.
“Woah, chill! don’t break my wrists, Kari, is this too much for you~?”
I’m suing her after this.
“Noho— hic— no it ihihisn’t— FUHUHUCK!!”
damn, I guess my hips really are my worst enemies.
BECAUSE SHE STARTED KNEADING THOSE, TOO—
Please, I’m not bread dough, I swear…
“Are you sorry for disrespecting me?”
“I LITERALLY DIHIHIDN’T— SHIHIT— FINE FINE, I’M SOHORRYYYY!!”
“damn, you really can’t handle tickling, can you?” She teased again once she stopped, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear, and kissing my forehead.
I could feel my cheeks getting even hotter, and I pushed her off me, earning me a laugh from her.
I loved her laugh.
I guess she loved mine too..
I drew an arrow and wrote “a mean tickle monster” on my doodle of her…
☆-!
Hi guys I’m so sleepy I’m posting thisrihht before ungotibed ok? Ok gnight guyswhiureodjejdkdmejdjdshwjs
"it is a cultural shock — how our daughters are using such [crude] language."
always the women being subjected to puritan culture. citizens are being booked for using slurs. fifteen year olds. are we serious?
why only "daughters"? why is it less surprising to see "sons" as well using crass language? because "boys will be boys", apparently.
the prime minister of the country with the largest population in the world has nothing better to do than making a reel, saying he forgives everyone who verbally insulted him during the recent protest that was highly against the political party he belongs to.
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
"Right there," Jisung mumbled, his voice already hazy with relaxation. "That's the spot, Min."
Minho hummed in acknowledgment, his thumbs pressing firm, deliberate circles into the base of Jisung’s neck. It was intimate in a way that made Minho’s heart feel full. He loved getting to spend time with his boyfriend, to be able to take care of him after he does so much for the city.
“That’s it,” Minho murmured, pressing deeper. “You were so tense. What were you even doing all day?”
“Mm… training,” Jisung mumbled into the pillow. “Swinging. Saving. You know. Hero stuff.”
Minho rolled his eyes fondly. “Right. Hero stuff.” He worked his way down Jisung’s spine, following the curve of each vertebra, and Jisung melted further into the sheets, boneless and pliant. This was the good part—the quiet, the warmth, the way Minho’s hands knew exactly where to press.
Minho's hands travel absentmindedly to Jisung's back ribs. Jisung’s entire body jerked. A high-pitched shriek, half-surprise and half-pain, tore from his throat, and he instinctively tried to scramble away, his whole body jolting.
Minho’s hands shot back, and he sighed, a long, weary sound. "Why did you do that?"
Jisung, still trembling from the shock, whined into his pillow. "You know why! It's the same reason you tied me down!"
"Because you have crazy reflexes, baby." Minho said, his voice patient but exasperated. "I touch one sensitive spot and I’m webbed to the ceiling. I have to keep you in place."
Jisung’s arms were stretched out above his head, his face still planted firmly in the pillow.
He didn't fight it. In fact, he felt a new wave of relaxation wash over him. He was anchored, secure. He melted even further into the sheets, a small, happy sigh escaping his lips.
Minho’s hands found his back again, resuming the deep, soothing strokes. It was so good. So good. His muscles sang. He was practically purring.
Until the fingers started wandering again. This time, they crept slowly, deliberately, towards his sides and the sensitive ribs on his back. Minho’s thumbs pressed in, just a little, right into that spot.
Jisung squealed, a sound that was pure, unadulterated panic mixed with mirth. He jolted so hard that the headboard creaked, but the ties held. He arched his back, trying to escape the relentless touch, his laughter already bubbling up in his throat.
"Jisung!" Minho’s voice was sharp with warning. He pulled his hands away. "Stop squirming so much!"
Jisung let out a howling, giggling whine, his whole body shaking. "I cahahan't! It tihickles! It tihihihihickles!"
Minho stared down at his boyfriend, who was now a bundle of uncontrollable giggles and flailing limbs, tied securely to the bed. A familiar, fond smile touched his lips. He had a choice. He could be the kind, patient partner and move on. Or he could indulge in a little mischief.
The latter was infinitely more appealing.
"You're a menace," Minho says, and his voice had gone low and teasing. "A menace who needs to learn to take a massage like a grown-up."
And then his thumbs dug into Jisung's back ribs.
Jisung lost it.
"WAHAHAHAIT!! NOHOHO!! MINHO!!—" He couldn't even form words, his body convulsing beneath Minho's hands, laughter ripping out of him in desperate, howling peals.
He was flopping up and down like a fish that had been thrown onto a dock, the rope creaking as he yanked against it. His face was buried in the pillow, but that didn't muffle the sound—high and wheezy and completely out of control.
Minho didn't stop. He just kept pressing his thumbs into the spaces between Jisung's ribs, tracing slow circles, working the sensitive spots that made Jisung scream.
"Are you going to man up or not?" Minho asked, his voice maddeningly calm, almost bored.
"I CANT! MIHIHIHIHINHO I CAHAHAHAN'T!! PLEASE NO NOHOHOT THEEHEHERE!!"
Minho's fingers had slid to his shoulder blades, vibrating against the bones and the spaces between.
The sound that came out of Jisung was not human. It was a howling, giggling, screeching mess of a noise, his whole body bowing upward off the mattress. His arms yanked at the ropes. His feet kicked uselessly at the sheets.
“I CAHAHAHAHAN’T!”
“Can’t what?” Minho was tickling him now, properly, his fingers skittering up and down Jisung’s sides, dancing over the sensitive curve of his back ribs. “Can’t handle a little massage?”
Jisung lets out a indignant, petulant whine at that. "THAHAHAHAT'S NOT FAHAHAHAIR!! Youhuhuhu're tiHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHE!!"
Minho hums. "Actually, you might like this more than the massage, right Sungie? You love this massage the most~" Minho kneads mercilessly into Jisung's hips. "Answer me."
Jisung's fingers clawed uselessly at the air, his whole body arching and bucking in a desperate attempt to escape the ticklish torment. Minho didn’t stop. He simply changed his tactic, using his nails to rake over the strips of sensitive skin of Jisung's armpit.
Jisung just lets out a bunch of frustrated noises along with some more laughs. "WAIT!! WAHAHAAHAIT!!"
"Wait for what?" Minho's fingers never stopped. They danced over his ribs, dipped into the hollows, traced the spaces between each bone. "You haven't answered my question yet."
"I cahahan't think when you're tohOHOHOUCHING ME THEHEHERE!!" Jisung screams. His brain was going into full panic mode, trying to do anything to get Minho's torturing fingers off of his side and armpit.
"You're so red." Minho's fingers danced down his sides, featherlight, and Jisung wailed. "You're thinking about it, aren't you? About how much you love this. About how you'd rather be tickled than massaged any day."
"I—I WOHOHOULDNT!!"
"Liar." Minho's voice was fond, almost affectionate. "You're such a liar, Jisung. You love this. You love when I tie you up and tickle you until you can't breathe."
Jisung's face was on fire. Minho was surprised steam wasn't coming out of his ears yet.
Minho leaned down, his lips brushing Jisung's ear. "Say it."
"NOHOHO!!"
"Say it, and I'll stop."
Jisung shook his head frantically, so embarrassed he could die.
"Tell me, Jisung."
And Jisung gave in.
"YEHEHEHES!" He screeched. "I LIHIKE THE TIHICKLING MORE THAHAN THE MASSAHAHAGE!!"
Minho's hands stilled.
The room was silent for a long moment.
Then Minho leaned down, his lips brushing Jisung's ear, and his voice was warm and soft and absolutely smug.
"I knew it."
Jisung groaned. "I hate you." He waited for Minho to commit the grave mistake of untying him.
"You were good," Minho said, his voice soft and teasing, as the ropes fell away from Jisung's wrists. "You earned your freedom."
Jisung's arms dropped to the mattress. He was still panting, still trembling, still flushed from head to toe. His wrists were pink from the rope. His bare back was slick with massage oil and sweat. He looked utterly wrecked, completely defeated.
Minho smiled down at him, fond and proud.
And then Jisung moved.
One second he was a boneless puddle on the mattress. The next, he was a blur of motion—faster than Minho could track, faster than he could react. There was a soft thwip sound, and suddenly Minho's left wrsit was pinned to the headboard, webbed in place by two thick strands of white silk.
Minho blinked. "Wait—"
Another thwip, and his right hand were webbed too.
"Jisung," Minho said carefully, testing the webbing. It held firm. "Babe. Love of my life. What are you doing?"
Jisung's smile was sharp and bright and full of mischief. His eyes were still red-rimmed from crying with laughter, his cheeks still flushed, his hair a complete disaster. He looked like chaos incarnate.
"Revenge," he said simply.
Minho's stomach dropped. "Now, wait—"
But Jisung was already climbing onto the bed, crawling up Minho's body with the kind of focused determination that usually preceded something catastrophic. His hands landed on Minho's hips, and Minho's shirt rode up just slightly, exposing a sliver of skin.
"Jisung," Minho tried again, his voice pitching higher. "Jisung, we can talk about this—"
"We talked enough." Jisung's fingers found the hem of Minho's shirt and pushed it up, baring his stomach. "You talked. I laughed. Now it's my turn."
"Jisung, don't you dare—"
But Jisung was already leaning down, his lips brushing the skin just above Minho's belly button.
And then he blew.
The raspberry was loud and wet and absolutely devastating. Minho's whole body jerked, his back arching off the mattress, a strangled sound ripping out of his throat. The webbing held, but the bedframe groaned in protest.
"JIHIHIHISUNG—!"
"Oops," Jisung said, not sounding sorry at all. He pulled back, grinning, and Minho could see the laughter sparkling in his eyes. "Did that tickle? Cause I can do it again."
And he did.
The second raspberry was longer, more deliberate, Jisung shaking his head from side to side as he blew into Minho's stomach. Minho shrieked—his hips bucking, his heels drumming against the mattress.
"WAHAHAIT WAIT NOHOHOHOHHO!!"
"You thought you could get away that easily?" Jisung cooed.
He used his hands—his free, unbound hands—to crawl up Minho's flanks, his fingers skittering over the sensitive skin of his sides. Minho screamed with laughter, his head thrashing on the pillow. "NOT THEHERE!!"
Minho's flanks were devastatingly ticklish—Jisung knew this, had catalogued every weak point on his boyfriend's body over three years of loving, teasing warfare.
And right now, with Minho's arms pinned above his head and his shirt bunched under his armpits, his bare stomach and sides completely exposed, he was helpless.
"Oh, here?" Jisung's fingers wiggled into Minho's underarms, and Minho's laughter went silent, breathless, his whole body convulsing. "You mean here? Right here, where you tickled me?"
Minho was dying. His face was red, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter broken and desperate. He was so much more sensitive than Jisung had ever realized—every touch made him jump, every wiggling finger made him scream.
And Jisung was loving it.
"You were having so much fun, weren't you? Being a menace?" Jisung hums.
"I TAHAHAKE IT BACK!! I tahahahake ihihit ALL BAHAHACK!!"
"Fine, fine. As you're begging for mercy and all." Jisung yanks the webs off.
Minho groans. "You're too mehean..." As Jisung helps him sit up.
"All's fair in love and tickle wars~" Jisung teases back.
Minho kissed his forehead, still catching his breath. "Idiot."
Jisung melts, smiling. "Your idiot."
can you guys genuinely let me know if my writing's getting too repetitive?? i worried about this one a lot cause for some reason all my fics kinda read the same these days.
ehheheehehheh IM SO GLAD IT LIVED UP TO YOUR STANDARDS TT i swear i was writing this thinking the whole time: annie has to love it annie has to love it annie has to l-
ANSJLKSHDSJ ME TOO I ACTUALLY LOVE THIS SERIES A LOT <333
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
"Right there," Jisung mumbled, his voice already hazy with relaxation. "That's the spot, Min."
Minho hummed in acknowledgment, his thumbs pressing firm, deliberate circles into the base of Jisung’s neck. It was intimate in a way that made Minho’s heart feel full. He loved getting to spend time with his boyfriend, to be able to take care of him after he does so much for the city.
“That’s it,” Minho murmured, pressing deeper. “You were so tense. What were you even doing all day?”
“Mm… training,” Jisung mumbled into the pillow. “Swinging. Saving. You know. Hero stuff.”
Minho rolled his eyes fondly. “Right. Hero stuff.” He worked his way down Jisung’s spine, following the curve of each vertebra, and Jisung melted further into the sheets, boneless and pliant. This was the good part—the quiet, the warmth, the way Minho’s hands knew exactly where to press.
Minho's hands travel absentmindedly to Jisung's back ribs. Jisung’s entire body jerked. A high-pitched shriek, half-surprise and half-pain, tore from his throat, and he instinctively tried to scramble away, his whole body jolting.
Minho’s hands shot back, and he sighed, a long, weary sound. "Why did you do that?"
Jisung, still trembling from the shock, whined into his pillow. "You know why! It's the same reason you tied me down!"
"Because you have crazy reflexes, baby." Minho said, his voice patient but exasperated. "I touch one sensitive spot and I’m webbed to the ceiling. I have to keep you in place."
Jisung’s arms were stretched out above his head, his face still planted firmly in the pillow.
He didn't fight it. In fact, he felt a new wave of relaxation wash over him. He was anchored, secure. He melted even further into the sheets, a small, happy sigh escaping his lips.
Minho’s hands found his back again, resuming the deep, soothing strokes. It was so good. So good. His muscles sang. He was practically purring.
Until the fingers started wandering again. This time, they crept slowly, deliberately, towards his sides and the sensitive ribs on his back. Minho’s thumbs pressed in, just a little, right into that spot.
Jisung squealed, a sound that was pure, unadulterated panic mixed with mirth. He jolted so hard that the headboard creaked, but the ties held. He arched his back, trying to escape the relentless touch, his laughter already bubbling up in his throat.
"Jisung!" Minho’s voice was sharp with warning. He pulled his hands away. "Stop squirming so much!"
Jisung let out a howling, giggling whine, his whole body shaking. "I cahahan't! It tihickles! It tihihihihickles!"
Minho stared down at his boyfriend, who was now a bundle of uncontrollable giggles and flailing limbs, tied securely to the bed. A familiar, fond smile touched his lips. He had a choice. He could be the kind, patient partner and move on. Or he could indulge in a little mischief.
The latter was infinitely more appealing.
"You're a menace," Minho says, and his voice had gone low and teasing. "A menace who needs to learn to take a massage like a grown-up."
And then his thumbs dug into Jisung's back ribs.
Jisung lost it.
"WAHAHAHAIT!! NOHOHO!! MINHO!!—" He couldn't even form words, his body convulsing beneath Minho's hands, laughter ripping out of him in desperate, howling peals.
He was flopping up and down like a fish that had been thrown onto a dock, the rope creaking as he yanked against it. His face was buried in the pillow, but that didn't muffle the sound—high and wheezy and completely out of control.
Minho didn't stop. He just kept pressing his thumbs into the spaces between Jisung's ribs, tracing slow circles, working the sensitive spots that made Jisung scream.
"Are you going to man up or not?" Minho asked, his voice maddeningly calm, almost bored.
"I CANT! MIHIHIHIHINHO I CAHAHAHAN'T!! PLEASE NO NOHOHOT THEEHEHERE!!"
Minho's fingers had slid to his shoulder blades, vibrating against the bones and the spaces between.
The sound that came out of Jisung was not human. It was a howling, giggling, screeching mess of a noise, his whole body bowing upward off the mattress. His arms yanked at the ropes. His feet kicked uselessly at the sheets.
“I CAHAHAHAHAN’T!”
“Can’t what?” Minho was tickling him now, properly, his fingers skittering up and down Jisung’s sides, dancing over the sensitive curve of his back ribs. “Can’t handle a little massage?”
Jisung lets out a indignant, petulant whine at that. "THAHAHAHAT'S NOT FAHAHAHAIR!! Youhuhuhu're tiHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHE!!"
Minho hums. "Actually, you might like this more than the massage, right Sungie? You love this massage the most~" Minho kneads mercilessly into Jisung's hips. "Answer me."
Jisung's fingers clawed uselessly at the air, his whole body arching and bucking in a desperate attempt to escape the ticklish torment. Minho didn’t stop. He simply changed his tactic, using his nails to rake over the strips of sensitive skin of Jisung's armpit.
Jisung just lets out a bunch of frustrated noises along with some more laughs. "WAIT!! WAHAHAAHAIT!!"
"Wait for what?" Minho's fingers never stopped. They danced over his ribs, dipped into the hollows, traced the spaces between each bone. "You haven't answered my question yet."
"I cahahan't think when you're tohOHOHOUCHING ME THEHEHERE!!" Jisung screams. His brain was going into full panic mode, trying to do anything to get Minho's torturing fingers off of his side and armpit.
"You're so red." Minho's fingers danced down his sides, featherlight, and Jisung wailed. "You're thinking about it, aren't you? About how much you love this. About how you'd rather be tickled than massaged any day."
"I—I WOHOHOULDNT!!"
"Liar." Minho's voice was fond, almost affectionate. "You're such a liar, Jisung. You love this. You love when I tie you up and tickle you until you can't breathe."
Jisung's face was on fire. Minho was surprised steam wasn't coming out of his ears yet.
Minho leaned down, his lips brushing Jisung's ear. "Say it."
"NOHOHO!!"
"Say it, and I'll stop."
Jisung shook his head frantically, so embarrassed he could die.
"Tell me, Jisung."
And Jisung gave in.
"YEHEHEHES!" He screeched. "I LIHIKE THE TIHICKLING MORE THAHAN THE MASSAHAHAGE!!"
Minho's hands stilled.
The room was silent for a long moment.
Then Minho leaned down, his lips brushing Jisung's ear, and his voice was warm and soft and absolutely smug.
"I knew it."
Jisung groaned. "I hate you." He waited for Minho to commit the grave mistake of untying him.
"You were good," Minho said, his voice soft and teasing, as the ropes fell away from Jisung's wrists. "You earned your freedom."
Jisung's arms dropped to the mattress. He was still panting, still trembling, still flushed from head to toe. His wrists were pink from the rope. His bare back was slick with massage oil and sweat. He looked utterly wrecked, completely defeated.
Minho smiled down at him, fond and proud.
And then Jisung moved.
One second he was a boneless puddle on the mattress. The next, he was a blur of motion—faster than Minho could track, faster than he could react. There was a soft thwip sound, and suddenly Minho's left wrsit was pinned to the headboard, webbed in place by two thick strands of white silk.
Minho blinked. "Wait—"
Another thwip, and his right hand were webbed too.
"Jisung," Minho said carefully, testing the webbing. It held firm. "Babe. Love of my life. What are you doing?"
Jisung's smile was sharp and bright and full of mischief. His eyes were still red-rimmed from crying with laughter, his cheeks still flushed, his hair a complete disaster. He looked like chaos incarnate.
"Revenge," he said simply.
Minho's stomach dropped. "Now, wait—"
But Jisung was already climbing onto the bed, crawling up Minho's body with the kind of focused determination that usually preceded something catastrophic. His hands landed on Minho's hips, and Minho's shirt rode up just slightly, exposing a sliver of skin.
"Jisung," Minho tried again, his voice pitching higher. "Jisung, we can talk about this—"
"We talked enough." Jisung's fingers found the hem of Minho's shirt and pushed it up, baring his stomach. "You talked. I laughed. Now it's my turn."
"Jisung, don't you dare—"
But Jisung was already leaning down, his lips brushing the skin just above Minho's belly button.
And then he blew.
The raspberry was loud and wet and absolutely devastating. Minho's whole body jerked, his back arching off the mattress, a strangled sound ripping out of his throat. The webbing held, but the bedframe groaned in protest.
"JIHIHIHISUNG—!"
"Oops," Jisung said, not sounding sorry at all. He pulled back, grinning, and Minho could see the laughter sparkling in his eyes. "Did that tickle? Cause I can do it again."
And he did.
The second raspberry was longer, more deliberate, Jisung shaking his head from side to side as he blew into Minho's stomach. Minho shrieked—his hips bucking, his heels drumming against the mattress.
"WAHAHAIT WAIT NOHOHOHOHHO!!"
"You thought you could get away that easily?" Jisung cooed.
He used his hands—his free, unbound hands—to crawl up Minho's flanks, his fingers skittering over the sensitive skin of his sides. Minho screamed with laughter, his head thrashing on the pillow. "NOT THEHERE!!"
Minho's flanks were devastatingly ticklish—Jisung knew this, had catalogued every weak point on his boyfriend's body over three years of loving, teasing warfare.
And right now, with Minho's arms pinned above his head and his shirt bunched under his armpits, his bare stomach and sides completely exposed, he was helpless.
"Oh, here?" Jisung's fingers wiggled into Minho's underarms, and Minho's laughter went silent, breathless, his whole body convulsing. "You mean here? Right here, where you tickled me?"
Minho was dying. His face was red, tears streaming down his temples, his laughter broken and desperate. He was so much more sensitive than Jisung had ever realized—every touch made him jump, every wiggling finger made him scream.
And Jisung was loving it.
"You were having so much fun, weren't you? Being a menace?" Jisung hums.
"I TAHAHAKE IT BACK!! I tahahahake ihihit ALL BAHAHACK!!"
"Fine, fine. As you're begging for mercy and all." Jisung yanks the webs off.
Minho groans. "You're too mehean..." As Jisung helps him sit up.
"All's fair in love and tickle wars~" Jisung teases back.
Minho kissed his forehead, still catching his breath. "Idiot."
Jisung melts, smiling. "Your idiot."
can you guys genuinely let me know if my writing's getting too repetitive?? i worried about this one a lot cause for some reason all my fics kinda read the same these days.
Director’s note: for my WONDERFUL AMAZING FRIEND @kokoluvskya!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY IDIOT <33 I LOVE YOU SM I HOPE YOU HAVE THE MOST AMAZING-EST DAY HEHEHE
It was a nice day (as per-usual…) in Shibuya on the rooftop of Miyamasuzaka girls’ academy, the leftover scent of the rain lingering in the air.. two girls had been practicing since school had finished.
Haruka and Minori.
They were practicing the new dance for their new song, just preparing to perform it on stage later that evening.
For now, they had been practicing alone, as Shizuku and Airi had been absent, well, somewhere…
Minori had been a stubborn little shit.
Haruka had been persistent with telling her to take breaks every few minutes. And guess what Minori did? SHE KEPT PRACTICING.
Haruka was watching her practice from the bench, a bottle of cold water in her hand, and her eyebrows furrowed waiting for Minori to TAKE A GODDAMN BREAK—
But no, she kept practicing.
Step back, spin, move to the side, bounce, jump, jump again, pose, jump, and do it all over again.
Sigh…
“Minori-Chan, you’ve been going at this for quite a while.. I have an extra water bottle for you.”
Minori slipped and stopped for a moment, and turned to look at her idol… holy barnacles, she’s always so pretty even when she’s sweaty from all that dancing… she could feel herself blushing—and not from the practicing.
“I’ll drink it later, I promise! I just need to get this move right!”
“You can get it right after you take at least a five minute break..”
Minori looked away, cheeks flushing even redder at the concern. Her idol was so sweet and kind, oh my god—
“I’ll take a break right after I perfect this move!”
…
“Sigh.”
Uhhhhh.. let’s just say what happened next was.. uhm.. very professional. Very idolsy.. yea.
Because she was sort of now just stuck pinned on the rooftop tiles.. on her back, like an upside-down bug.
And Haruka was sat on her hips, a smug but concerned look on her face.
“Eep! Haruka-Chan, what are y—“
That was the last coherent sentence that came out of Minori’s mouth before it was a mess of squeals and giggles as Haruka’s EVIL WIGGLING FINGERS descended on her AWFULLY TICKLISH EXPOSED SIDES.
she was a goner… to say the least.
“So, are you gonna take a break?” She persists once again, fingers moving up to tease and wiggle at her ribs.. oh shit.
“Eep! Nohoho! EHEHE— hic AFTER I FIHINISH THE MOHOHOVE—" The sounds coming out of Minori’s mouth were.. totally not adorably high pitched giggles.. and squeaks… trust.
That response only followed in more relentless squeezing and oh god—
She snorted.
And Haruka grinned from above her.. oh my god.
“HEHEHEHAHAHA— I’LL TAKE A BREAK— I PROHOHOMISE!!” she finally squeaked out, gasping for air greedily when Haruka stopped and stood off her.
Minori sat up, feeling giddy but breathless after that.. and a bottle of cold water was shoved into her hands.
“15 minutes. I swear if I see you getting up to practice again, you’re getting tickled again.”
They both looked over at the sound of giggling to find Shizuku and Airi standing by the doorway of the rooftop with two bags of popcorn..
𝙖/𝙣: been FOREVER since a longing part :3 celebrating with a new ler in the series hehehe
warnings: pinning, teasing, minho calls jisung "tickle bug", use of recording and live stream, jisung is catastrophically embarrassed, a little disclaimer that jisung asked them
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
Jisung is a mess. His face is the color of a ripe tomato, flushed all the way down his neck and disappearing under the collar of his oversized shirt. His hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction from thrashing.
Chan is still straddling Jisung's hips, solid and immovable, his weight pinning Jisung's wrists to the mattress on either side of his head. Chan's not even breathing hard, the bastard.
He's just sitting there with that fond, wolfish grin, watching Jisung try to remember how lungs work. Every few seconds, Jisung's body gives an involuntary twitch, a leftover spasm from the assault, and Chan's grin only widens.
Minho is happily sitting on his arms, completely unbothered, entirely content with having watched Jisung kick and buck and scream with laughter.
"Hello, everyone," He says, and Jisung nearly dies on the spot. Is he really live right now? He can almost hear the explosion of comments that must be flooding the screen. "Sorry for the sudden live. Chan-ah and I wanted to show you something."
Chan snorts above him, his grip tightening just a fraction. He shifts his weight, leaning down to get a better look at the phone screen. "Oh, this is going to be good," He murmurs, his breath warm against Jisung's ear, which is now burning a furious crimson.
A quiet, breathless sort of whine escaped Jisung’s throat. His chest was still heaving, the remnants of hysterical laughter bubbling up and dying in his ribs.
He was pinned, utterly defeated.
And the fans could see every single second of it.
Chan finally speaks up after about a moment. "So, who wants to see us tickle Hannie?"
Jisung's entire soul briefly left his body. His eyes went impossibly wide, and a strangled, disbelieving noise clawed its way out of his throat. The chat exploded. Hearts. Emojis. Screaming in all caps. A flood of YES and PLEASE and WE DO and I CANT BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING.
The pressure kept Jisung flat, but his knees. Oh, his traitorous knees, were already creeping up toward his chest, his body instinctively trying to curl into the smallest possible shape. His arms were still pinned by Minho, but his legs were free, and they were trying.
Chan laughed, bright and delighted, and it was the most beautiful and terrifying sound Jisung had ever heard. "Awwww," Chan cooed, tilting his head like he was observing a particularly fascinating creature. "Look at the little pill bug here. He's curling up. So cute~"
Jisung's face burned so hot he was sure he was going to combust. "I'm not a pill bug!" he whined, his voice cracking embarrassingly high. He tried to pull his knees up higher, tried to tuck his chin down, tried to disappear into himself.
Minho just laughed again, utterly unbothered. "He says this," Minho announced to the phone, which he'd propped up against a pillow so the camera had a perfect view, "but watch Chan-hyung get the tummy."
"No," Jisung gasped, his eyes darting to the phone screen where hundreds of comments were flying by. "No. Not in front of the fans. Chan hyung. Chan. CHAN.—"
Chan's fingers found his stomach.
"CHAHAHAHAHAHAN!!"
The giggle that exploded out of Jisung was helpless and immediate, his whole body jerking as Chan's long fingers spidered across his sensitive belly. His knees tried to slam shut, tried to protect him, but Minho was already there, already holding him, and there was no escape.
"NAHAHAHAH!! YOU CAHAHAHAHAN'T!!"
Both Chan and Minho ignored his protests.
And Minho was already narrating, his voice smooth and clinical like a nature documentary. "Here we observe the pill bug in its natural habitat," Minho said, completely deadpan, watching Chan as his fingers wiggled mercilessly against Jisung's quivering tummy. "Its favorite habitat, as we can see."
Jisung wailed, a sound caught between laughter and despair and utter embarrassment.
"Being tickled half to death," Minho continued, nodding sagely. "Notice the defensive curling response. Classic pill bug behavior. He's trying to protect his vulnerable underbelly. But alas..."
Chan casually dips a finger into Jisung's belly button.
Jisung lets out a howl of laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks, his body writhing between them. His knees were still trying to curl, but Minho's weight kept him flat, kept him exposed, and there was nothing he could do but laugh and laugh and laugh.
"The pill bug is experiencing peak distress," Minho narrated, his voice warm with barely concealed affection. "He's very red. Very loud. Very cute. The predators are fascinated."
Chan snorted, his own laughter shaking his shoulders. "Fascinated," He echoed, grinning down at Jisung's wrecked, tear-streaked face.
Jisung could barely form words anymore. His laughter had gone breathless. "I HAHAHAHTE YOU BOHOHOTH!!"
The chat was exploding with heart emojis and the excited suggestions of the fans.
"Get the hips?" Minho read out loud. "Why, what a good idea!"
But Chan didn't wait. Of course he didn't wait. His thumbs dug into the sensitive hollows of Jisung's hip bones, pressing and vibrating in quick, merciless circles, and Jisung lost it. His whole body arched off the bed, a fresh shriek tearing out of his throat.
Minho's hand joins in at the ribs, vibrating thumb buried deep in the space between his bottom two ribs.
His legs kicked wildly, heels drumming against the mattress, but he couldn't escape. He couldn't move. Chan's weight was solid on his thighs, pinning him down, and Minho's hand was still at his ribs, vibrating into the spaces between each bone like they were playing some sort of cruel instrument.
Jisung swears he is not going to live another day. But he loves it anyway.
Jisung's head thrashed from side to side, his grin stretching so wide it hurt. Tears were absolutely streaming down his temples now, disappearing into his sweaty hairline. His laughter had gone completely silent between the shrieks.
Minho cooed, and his voice was dripping with mock sympathy. "Awww. Look at him." He tilted his head, watching Jisung squirm like a fish on a line. "The pill bug is absolutely thrashing. Look at those little legs go."
Jisung's legs were going. Kicking, scrabbling, trying to find purchase on anything that would give him leverage. But Chan's weight was on his waist, and Minho's weight was on his arms, and there was nowhere to go.
"I CAHAHAHAHN'T!! STOHOHOP TEHEHEASING MEHEHE!!"
"The pill bug," Minho continued, his voice sliding into that smooth nature-documentary cadence again, "stands no chance against the predators' strategies. The predators have identified the most vulnerable spots. The hip area. The rib cage. Very sensitive. Very ticklish."
"SHUHUHUHUT UP YOU MEHEHEHEANIE!!" Jisung screams. "I'hihim nohot even ticklihihish!"
That seemed to do it for a second. Both Chan and Minho paused.
"You're not ticklish?" Minho asked again, grin widening in amusement. "Should I test that out?"
Jisung whined. "No, please don't."
"Please don't what?"
"...Please don't tickle me."
Minho reached up to squeeze his hand, giving him a knowing look. At Jisung's nod, he was back.
Minho grinned, and took Chan's place. Chan clambered to tackle Jisung's arms down again. Minho made an amused expression. "Reallyyy?" He drew the word out, and his free hand came up, fingers crawling up Jisung's side like little spiders. "The pill bug isn't ticklish?"
Jisung clamped his lips together so hard his jaw ached. His whole body tensed, and the giggles started bubbling up in his chest, trapped behind his sealed lips. "N-Noho."
His shoulders hunched, his hips twitched, his legs kicked weakly against the bed. But he was determined. He would not break. He would not—
Minho's fingers wiggled against his ribs, light and teasing. "Is the little pill bug holding in his giggles~?" He cooed, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Is the pill bug feeling all the tickles?"
Jisung shook his head frantically, his breath coming out in sharp, strained little exhales through his nose. His face was so red. His whole body was trembling with the effort of keeping quiet.
Minho tilted his head, pretending to study him. "Who's the most ticklish pill bug, hm?" He mused, his fingers still dancing lazily across Jisung's ribs. "Is it you?"
Jisung shook his head again, a desperate, jerky motion. His lips were twitching, fighting so hard to stay together. A tiny, helpless giggle slipped out, and he slammed his lips shut again immediately.
Minho's eyes sparkled. "Really?" He frowned, pretending to be confused. "But I could've sworn you were..."
And his hands dove into Jisung's armpits.
"GAHAHAHAHAH!! MINHOOOO!!"
"What? Don't act like you didn't ask for this~"
"WHA—?! PFF—SHUHUHUHUT UP!! NO I DIHIHIDN'T!!"
"Mhm~" Both Chan and Minho chorused.
After another ten minutes of tickling a poor Jisung stupid, he finally started to wear out, going limp and giggly.
"Awww," Minho cooed, finally letting up a but, tilting his head as he observed Jisung's squirming form. "Look at the little pill bug. He's so sensitive today. Did the predators wear him out?"
"WEAR ME OUT??! YOU FUHUHUCKING TORTURED ME!!"
Minho shrugged. "Potato, patahto."
And then, "Don't be mean to the species predator. Or next time I will blow raspberries into your tummy until you cry."
Chan lets Jisung go. "C'mon, bug. Don't be rude. Say hi to the fans."
Jisung's blush is nuclear. "Hi guys. Forget that ever happened."
"Oh come on. We all know you lik—"
And the live cuts out as Jisung frantically slams the end button.
happy 3 year anniversary to me!!
starting off the next three days full of fics hehehehe i hope you guys like this one and i hope you're excited for the next ones too!!
