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“I thought you were the one who wanted this, hyung,” Seungmin says flatly, like he’s discussing the weather rather than the fact that he’s currently straddling Minho’s hips, fingers hovering with dangerous intent over his sides.
Minho squirms beneath him, wrists secured to the bed frame, shoulders tense as he tries, and fails, to twist away. His face is scrunched up, eyes squeezed shut, lips pressed tight like he’s holding back something embarrassing.
So, you’re probably wondering how Minho got into this situation. Much less, how Minho got into this situation actually tied down by the one and only Kim Seungmin.
Well, after one too many misunderstandings between the divorced couple, Minho and Seungmin had come to an agreement. A horrible agreement, but an agreement nonetheless.
Whenever one of them had a lee mood—no matter how bad it got, no matter how embarrassing it was, they had to tell the other.
It was always too embarrassing to tell the other members (that they agreed on wholeheartedly), and they were both good lers, so it was an easy and foolproof way to get what they wanted.
And even better, they didn’t have to tell anyone about this agreement. It was already too mortifying to mention the fact that they let each other tickle, but it also ensured none of them would spill.
Oh, how it backfired on Minho badly.
It had been a casual Tuesday afternoon. The lee mood had been bad, lasting more than three days and making Minho feel like a walking nerve. And even worse, the others had started picking up his initial jumpiness.
So Minho desperately sees through his last resort. The 3 P’s. The perfect way to get rid of a lee mood.
“I really wish a good ler was around here somewhere. This lee mood is killing me.” He looks pointedly at Seungmin across the room. P one: Purposefully stroking the puppy’s ego.
Seungmin happily puffs his chest. “Luckily, the best ler in the whole group is sitting right in front of you.”
Minho rolls his eyes secretively. Sure. Real humble, Seungmin. He smiled, fluttering his lashes. P two: Provoke provoke provoke.
“Really?” He looked around, exaggerating his movements. “I don’t see him~”
Seungmin narrows his eyes. “Oh you little—”
Minho bolts. Very logical of him. P three: Pray that you don’t die.
Of course, he underestimated Seungmin, who catches him and makes quick work of him in seconds, tying him down and straddling his waist.
And he waits. “Lee Minho.”
“Kim Seungmin.” Minho shot back.
Seungmin grins slyly. “Are you really this pathetic? You literally admitted you were in a lee mood. You then provoked me further despite our agreement. So you want me to tickle you that bad, hm?”
Minho scoffed. “You’re delusional, Kihim Seungmihin.” He clamped his lips together as Seungmin playfully littered some pokes along his tummy.
And that’s how Minho got here.
Seungmin sat comfortably perched on Minho’s thighs, his knees pressing lightly into the mattress on either side of the older man’s hips.
The rope around Minho’s wrists was soft but secure, looped neatly around the slats of the bed frame above his head, keeping his arms stretched taut and helpless.
Minho’s black t-shirt had ridden up during their playful scuffle, exposing a pale strip of toned stomach that rose and fell with every quick, anticipatory breath.
Minho’s face was already flushed a deep pink, cheeks puffed out as he tried to school his expression into something a little less pathetic.
His lips were pressed into a tight line, but the corners kept twitching. “Shut uhup!! I-I don’t know what y-you’re talking about!”
“Really?” Seungmin retorted, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “So this had nothing to do with our little agreement?”
He continued the horrid poking, even switching to trailing his nails along the skin of Minho’s tummy. Minho throws his head back, straining, trying so hard to hold it in.
“Awhhh, is our resident house cat trying to hold it in? You don’t like your tummy rubs?”
Minho’s stomach twitched under Seungmin’s trailing finger. “Don’t—don’t say thahahat!!”
Seungmin tilted his head, looking far too pleased with himself. “What do you mean? You’re the one who wanted to be—”
He was cut off by a squeal. Seungmin looks down. One of his fingers was in Minho’s belly button.
“Oh?” Seungmin’s eyes sparkled with delight, voice dripping with mock surprise. “Is that a bad spot, hyung?”
Minho basically folds in half. All that held-back laughter exploded out of him in a stream of unsteady giggles and whines. Seungmin continued, slipping his hands to Minho’s sides.
Minho threw his head back against the pillow, his usually sharp, cat-like eyes scrunched tightly in laughter. His legs kicked uselessly behind Seungmin, heels drumming against the mattress. “StohoHOHOP!! YOU’RE SOHO MEHEHEHEAN!!”
Seungmin’s fingers slowed to a gentle, almost tender rhythm—light fluttering touches that danced across Minho’s quivering sides without digging in too harshly.
He kept his expression carefully neutral, that signature deadpan face making everything feel ten times more unbearable for the older man trapped beneath him.
Minho was still breathing hard, little residual giggles slipping out every few seconds even though the tickling had dialed back.
Seungmin tilted his head slightly, watching Minho’s every twitch with quiet focus. His voice came out soft, almost kind, but delivered in that flat, honest tone that somehow made it worse.
“You want more, hyung? Or are you done?”
Minho looked like he wanted to sink through the floor. “Wha-why would you ask that?”
Seungmin hummed thoughtfully, still moving his fingers in that maddeningly gentle way—never too rough, never overwhelming, but constant. “I’m asking because I want to make it good for you. You always get embarrassed when I say it out loud, but…you haven’t actually told me to stop yet.”
His eyes met Minho’s flushed face directly, honest and steady. “Do you want me to stop, hyung? Be honest.”
“…”
“Hyung?” Seungmin asks again, grinning.
“No!! Juhust…keeheep gohoing…” Minho mumbles.
Seungmin shrugs. “Alright.”
Minho was a mess beneath him. His wrists pulled weakly at the soft ties, chest rising and falling rapidly as helpless giggles poured out of him in a constant, breathy stream.
His face was flushed deep pink, eyes glassy with laughter-tears, and every time Seungmin’s nails skittered lightly over a particularly sensitive patch just below his ribs, he let out a high-pitched whine that made him want to disappear.
“Stohop gohohoing so lightly!” Minho shrieks. “Ihihit’s kihihilling mehehe—!!”
Seungmin sighs. “Then tell me what you want!! Gosh, this is what happens when I try to be nice to you.” He smiles fondly down at the scarlet, squirming boy under him.
“Just—Just go harder!! Just wreck me properly!” Minho orders, hiding his face in his arm.
Seungmin gasped. “Ohhhhh!! Why didn’t you just say so?”
Minho was gonna strangle him the second he was out of these ropes. Luckily, he didn’t have much time to think about it because Seungmin has stopped playing nice.
His hands moved quicker, digging and scribbling fiercely into Minho’s sides, fingers wiggling and scratching with purpose. Every time Minho tried to twist away, Seungmin followed, targeting the spots that made him squeal the loudest—right beneath the ribs, then back down to those horribly sensitive hollows at his waist.
Minho’s laughter turned loud and uncontrollable, bright cackles mixed with desperate, breathless shrieks. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks as he thrashed against the restraints, legs kicking wildly behind Seungmin.
“NOOHOHOHOOHO!! Ihihihit tihihickles it tihiHIHIHICKLES!!”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Seungmin retorted. “I’m tickling you. What did you expect?”
Seungmin’s hands finally slowed to a stop, resting lightly on Minho’s trembling sides as the older man gasped for air beneath him.
Minho sucked in another shaky breath, blinking up at the ceiling as residual giggles kept slipping out. His whole body was still twitching from the aftershocks.
Then Seungmin tilted his head, that mischievous little grin creeping back onto his face as he asked innocently: “Now where should I go next?”
Minho’s head snapped up so fast he nearly strained his neck. He gaped at Seungmin in pure disbelief, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. “You’re…you’re asking me?!” he croaked, voice hoarse from laughing so much. “You’re supposed to decide that!!”
Seungmin let out a soft laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement instead of that flat deadpan look. He shifted his weight on Minho’s thighs, making sure the older man was still securely pinned. “I know, but it’s cute when you try to explain it,” He said honestly, voice warm and teasing.
He tried to twist his upper body away, but with his wrists tied and Seungmin sitting firmly on his thighs, there was nowhere to go. After a long moment of squirming silence, he finally mumbled into his own arm, voice barely audible and dripping with embarrassment.
“…Hips are my death spot.”
Seungmin’s eyebrows shot up, his grin turning positively wicked. He leaned in even closer, practically hovering over Minho now. “Oh? Your death spot?” he repeated, voice dripping with teasing delight.
He didn’t wait even a second, thumbs digging into Minho’s hips with zero hesitation. Vibrating his fingers into the hollows.
“Ah,” Seungmin says, far too pleased, voice bright with amusement as his fingers start digging in steady, deliberate motion along Minho’s hips. “So this is the spot.”
Minho is immediately gone again.
“AAAHAHAHAHAAH SEHEHEHEUNGMIN!!”
Seungmin laughs under his breath, watching him fall apart all over again, completely unbothered and entirely entertained.
“Should’ve just told me sooner,” he says, almost fondly.
Seungmin’s fingers press in again, right along the same sensitive spots, but this time there’s a sharper edge to it—cool fingertips sliding over warm skin in a way that makes Minho jolt harder than before.
“Oh?” Seungmin hums, almost pleased. “Sensitive to temperature too?”
“THAHAHAT’S NOT THE POINT—!” Minho squeals, squirming uselessly against the bed, his laughter instantly back in full force. “WHY ARE YOUR HANDS SO COHOHOHOHOLD?!”
“Cute.” Seungmin comments casually. “Why do you hate it so much when we call you cute?”
“BECAUSE I’M NOHOHOHOHOHOT!!” Minho breaks off into laughter again when Seungmin lightly scrapes his nails along his side, just enough to make him fold. “SEHEHEUNGMIN!!”
“Seungmin is no more.” Seungmin grins. “It’s your favorite, hyung~”
Minho blanches. “Nonononono—”
“It’s the tickle monsterrr~” Seungmin sang, voice saccharine with mock innocence.
“STOHOHOP that’s so chihihihildish!!” Minho whined. But his bright red ears told a completely different story. And he was throwing his head back and howling with laughter again.
Because Seungmin drops it again. Not even fully. Just enough.
Those fingers dart in, quick and precise, right along Minho’s sides in that exact pattern he knows works too well now.
Minho opens his mouth.
Closes it.
Fails to produce anything coherent because Seungmin scratches again and his brain completely short-circuits into laughter.
He’s gone again, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as Seungmin resumes with absolute confidence, fingers pressing and scribbling along his sides in relentless, controlled chaos.
“NO MORE NO MORE PLEHEHEHHEHEHEASE!!”
Seungmin has fully committed to being the problem now.
Not even pretending otherwise.
Minho is already halfway gone—breathless, flushed, laughing in shaky bursts when Seungmin lifts his hands just long enough to reset the tension again.
Seungmin looks down at him like he’s considering it very seriously.
Then, in the softest, most infuriating voice imaginable: “But hyung…” He wiggles his fingers slowly. “The tickle monster’s hungry for moreee~ More ticklish sides and tummies~”
His fingers dig in again, scratching lightly but quickly now, moving between Minho’s stomach and sides in a way that feels completely unfair—no pattern, no mercy, just constant tickles.
“NOHOOHOOHO NOT THEHEHEHERE!!”
“Not where? Here?” Seungmin switched to both sides at once, nails raking up and down in alternating patterns that made Minho’s brain short-circuit.
Minho’s gasping with embarrassment through his laughs. “I CANT I CANT I CAHAAHAHAHNT—!!”
“Oh really?” Seungmin nodded along exaggeratedly, eyes sparkling with pure joy. “You can’t? That’s so sad.”
His voice was mock-sympathetic as he scratched harder, nails dragging deliberately over the delicate bones of Minho’s ribs, finding the spots that made Minho jolt like he’d been shocked.
your post about who might be most and least ticklish in each group just appeared on my tl and i just realized there's the possibility that jxw is basically the most ticklish svt subunit and for some reason that's so cute to me
If you asked me why I like tickling, I would tell you that I like it, because it makes me happy.
If you asked me on a deeper level, I'd tell you I enjoy it, because I lost my childhood too fast, I became serious and frustrated. Tickling, as dumb as it sounds, helps to remind me that I can still be silly and not always take things too seriously. It makes me feel thrill, the same thrill when you're watching a horror movie, that anticipating accent. It makes me feel safe, and relax, taking my mind off of stuff when I need to.
clearer version. i can't move on from this. the smirk on jimin's face. and i can tell he tickled him just slightly rougher the second time to guarantee a reaction 😵💫 the way jungkook whips his head around like "who tf is tickling me"
