Namseok’s wifey💋

this is a tickle blog; if that’s not your cup of tea, please feel free to leave :) 25 y/o🫶🏼 she/her

[letshavefuntt]

I am ignoring you

I’m really inspired to write about jimin and jungkook these days, so maybe i’ll post more fics with them🩷🤭💐 hope you’ll like this lovelies, enjoy!!!

Genre: tickle fic

Warnings: none

The morning sun filtered through the massive glass windows of their rented wooden chalet. Inside, the cabin was warm, smelling faintly of pine and the hot chocolate they had made the night before.

Jimin was tucked on the plush living room couch, He was supposed to be angry. Jungkook had promised they would sleep in, but the younger had instead woken up early, full of travel energy, and had loud-stumbled around the kitchen trying to make coffee.

Jimin crossed his arms tightly over his chest, burying his chin into the collar of his sweater. He threw his absolute best, most intimidating glare at Jungkook, who was standing by the edge of the sofa.

"I am ignoring you today, Jeon Jungkook," Jimin huffed, turning his face away and forcing a stubborn pout onto his lips. "Go hike the Matterhorn by yourself."

Jungkook didn't look intimidated at all. In fact, his eyes crinkled into his signature bunny smile as he stared down at the older boy. Jimin’s fake angry face was just entirely too cute to resist.

"Oh, really? Hyung is ignoring me?" Jungkook teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Before Jimin could even register the shift in the air, Jungkook lunged forward. In one swift, practiced movement, he slid onto the couch, dropping his frame across Jimin's legs.

"Yah! Get off!" Jimin squeaked, but he had absolutely no leverage. He was completely trapped under Jungkook's weight, his thighs pinned firmly against the cushions. With a grin, Jungkook didn't hesitate. He hooked his hands around Jimin’s ankles. Jimin was completely barefoot, his skin warm and ticklish.

"Jungkook-ah, don't you dare-" Jungkook’s fingers descended, his fingertips digging straight into the sensitive, tender arches of Jimin's bare feet. The reaction was instant. Jimin’s entire body went completely rigid as a jolt of pure electricity seemed to shoot up his spine. His eyes squeezed shut, and his tough, angry facade shattered in a fraction of a second.

"A-Ahahahha! No! Jungkook, stohahahahaap!" Jimin cried out, his voice instantly pitching up into a flurry of breathless squeaks. He immediately tried to curl inward, trying desperately to pull his feet back into the safety of his chest, but Jungkook’s grip on his ankles was like iron.

Jimin tossed his head back into the couch cushions, his hair going in all directions as rapid, melodic giggles spilled uncontrollably from his lips. He blindly reached his hands forward, palms pressing against Jungkook’s broad shoulders, trying to push him away-but trapped flat on his back, he had zero leverage.

Jungkook only smirked, his fingers shifting from light, teasing scribbles on the heels to a firm, rhythmic scratching right in the center of Jimin's highly ticklish soles. "Who's ignoring who now?" Jungkook laughed, enjoying the sheer chaos he was causing. Jimin was a complete, beautiful mess.

He was a chaotic flurry of wiggling toes, his back arching off the sofa as he tried to twist away from the agonizingly sweet sensation. He was kicking his legs in a completely useless attempt to break free, his face turning a bright, rosy pink. The airy, helpless laughter filled the quiet Swiss cabin, utterly erasing any trace of the morning's grumpiness until Jimin was completely at Jungkook's mercy.

"Okay! Okhahahaahay, I give up! I'm not maaad!" Jimin gasped out, tears of laughter welling in the corners of his squeezed-shut eyes. Hearing the confession, Jungkook finally let go of the squirming feet. Jimin let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, limp against the cushions, thinking the ordeal was finally over. He was entirely wrong.

Before Jimin could even attempt to slide out from underneath him, Jungkook crawled further up the couch, straddling Jimin’s hips and effectively pinning him down. "Good. But you still need to be punished for trying to ignore me," Jungkook whispered playfully.

"Wait, Jungk—AAAHAHAHAA!"

Jimin’s voice broke into a high-pitched shriek as Jungkook’s hands suddenly dove under the hem of his sweater, attacking his bare waist. Jungkook’s fingers walked nimbly up his soft flanks, digging right into the deep hollows of his hip before migrating up to his ribs.

If Jimin’s feet were a weak spot, his upper body was his absolute downfall. The touch against his bare skin made him twist and writhe wildly beneath Jungkook’s heavy frame. He threw his arms up, trying to shield his sides, but Jungkook easily caught his wrists with one hand, pinning them gently but securely above his head.

With his other hand completely free, Jungkook scribbled his fingertips right into the sensitive creases of Jimin's armpits and down the sides of his ribcage. "J-Jungkook-ah! Ahahahahahhahaha! Mercy! Pleeeeease, I can't-" Jimin screamed with laughter, his entire torso arching as he tried to escape the touch.

His face was flushed crimson, his chest heaving rapidly as sweet, breathless giggles poured out of him in endless waves. He was completely defenseless, wriggling hopelessly under the younger's grip, completely consumed by the warm, cozy chaos of the morning.

Jungkook finally relented, lifting his hands away from Jimin’s burning side and releasing his wrists. He didn’t move from his spot straddling Jimin's hips, though, keeping the older boy completely anchored beneath him.

Jimin collapsed back into the plush cushions like a puppet with its strings cut. His chest was heaving rapidly as he tried to claw back his breath, his throat sore from all the high-pitched squealing.

He let out a long, shaky, shuddering sigh, his eyes still squeezed shut as a few stray tears of pure laughter leaked down his flushed cheeks. Jungkook leaned down a bit closer, a proud, smug grin plastered across his face. He reached out and gently ran his fingers through Jimin’s soft hair, brushing the messy strands away from his sweaty forehead.

"Look at you," Jungkook teased softly, his voice dropping into a low, rumbling chuckle. "So tough a minute ago, telling me to go hike the Matterhorn alone. Now you're just a breathless little puddle on the couch."

Jimin let out a faint, whiny pout, his eyes cracking open to glare weakly at the younger boy. He tried to look annoyed, but with his cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson and his lips trembling with lingering, silent giggles, the effect was completely ruined.

"I hate you," Jimin wheezed out, his voice completely raw. He tried to turn his head away, but Jungkook’s hand stayed in his hair, gently cupping the back of his neck and tilting his face right back. "No, you don't," Jungkook murmured, his thumb softly wiping away a tear of laughter from the corner of Jimin's eye.

He kept petting his hair, his long fingers trailing soothingly through the strands in a stark contrast to the chaotic tickling from moments before. "You love me. And you’re definitely not ignoring me anymore."

Jimin sniffled, his body finally relaxing completely under Jungkook's comforting weight. He leaned his head back into the hand petting his hair, a soft, defeated smile breaking through his pout.

"Fine. I'm not ignoring you. Just... give me my hot chocolate." Jungkook chuckled, leaning down to press a quick, sweet kiss to Jimin's warm cheek before finally shifting off him. "Deal, hyung."

🪶🪶🪶🪶

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

Link to the full video:

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

OMG OMG

Edit: thank you to everyone who send it in sorry I saw it too late 😔

[stupendousphilosopherballoon]

[toomuchpanicnotenoughdisco]

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

Guys…??!!

I need to look more into idid because omg

[wereallgonnadieonedaybutnottoday]

Omgg the I’m gonna tickle him when I get home?!!😭😭

[bangtangiggles]

give me your hand

￫ summary: While at Hobi's Jack in the Box listening party with Yoongi, you suddenly become overwhelmed by your surroundings. Noticing your change in mood, Yoongi resorts to something that he knows will ground you.

￫ genre: tickle fic, hurt/comfort, fluff

￫ pairing(s): yoongi x reader, brief hobi x reader, brief jimin x reader

￫ warnings: swearing

￫ word count: 5.4k

￫ A/N: lol i wrote this after hobi's jack in the box listening party when i saw that yoongi couldn't make it because he didn't feel good 😭 i wanted him there just as much as the boys did so i wrote a fic inserting him into the party to cope with his absence 😔 if there are any errors i sincerely apologize. also, seeing as i wrote this with myself in mind, please note that this fic is written from the perspective of fem!reader with my features.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The music was loud, too many colorful lights and patterns were flashing and reflecting off of the ceiling, and a dull ache was blooming in your head just behind your eyes. It felt as though there were too many people standing around you, and the room was starting to feel stuffy, despite everyone being fairly spaced out.

You had been thrilled to attend Hobi's listening party for Jack in the Box, but now that you were a couple hours in, the environment was becoming too much for your introverted personality. After getting the already guaranteed invite from Hobi, you and Yoongi had tried to prepare for this, discussing ways to give you a comfortable experience at the party. 

It was known that big events like parties, fashion shows, and promotional premieres weren’t your thing. You often supported your boyfriend and his bandmates from the sidelines, mostly to protect you from the public eye but also because you were very introverted. Social gatherings had never been a huge interest of yours, unless they consisted of a tight-knit group of people that you were familiar with.

As a result, Hobi attempted to put together another Jack in the Box listening party reserved for the eight of you and a few select people, but you brushed it off. You assured him that there was no need to accommodate you in that way. Hobi deserved to be celebrated with many of his loved ones and connections for one special night; you didn’t want to make his schedule busier than it already was.

Besides, it was the polite thing for you to do. You could suck it up for one night. Plus, it wasn't as if you absolutely despised social events altogether; you simply preferred a small gathering with your close friends. As long as you stayed close to Yoongi and the rest of the boys for the majority of the night, you’d be alright.

Or so you thought.

While Yoongi had gone to get the both of you another round of drinks, you had shuffled yourself into a corner of the room near the wall of windows, creating the illusion of being in a more open space. You figured the speakers and flocks of people would bother you the least from there. The other boys were elsewhere around the gigantic room, so you were alone. Your plan of sticking to at least one member of Bangtan had failed. 

You didn’t even know why you hadn’t agreed to join Yoongi in getting the drinks. You didn’t even think your answer through, too focused on everything that was bothering you in the surrounding area. Yoongi figured something was up when you responded a little too quickly. He didn’t think much of it, only assuming that staying put would overwhelm you less than making your way through the fairly crowded space. 

You slumped against the wall for a couple seconds before turning your body around. Closing your eyes, you pressed your forehead into the wall’s coolness. You felt hot and sticky, needing to ground yourself.

“Did Yoongi put you in timeout?” 

Your head whipped towards Hobi’s playful voice beside you. You opened your mouth to speak, wanting to quip back and show him that you were fine, but nothing came out. 

“Hey,” Hobi said, smile faltering slightly. He ran a hand down your back. “You okay?”

You turned your head back to the wall, stomach dropping at being caught. “Uh, I don’t think so.” You paused. “No.”

Hobi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in concern before he craned his neck to the right, then turned to the left as he studied the room. 

“Do you want me to get Yoongi hyung, sweetheart?”

“No, it’s fine, he’s just getting drinks,” you reassurred, eyes prickling with tears. Yoongi had been gone for more than ten minutes and you were starting to get antsy. You prayed that Hobi couldn’t tell. After all, you were still turned to the wall and the room was quite dark. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, looking uneasy. “I can still get him.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “I’m sorry,” was all that you could manage to reply. 

You wanted Yoongi, but you felt childish for getting that upset and desperate for him. You didn’t want to waste Hobi’s time, nor make Yoongi feel that you couldn’t last ten minutes without him. 

“Hey,” Hobi stopped you, leaning his forehead against the wall with you to catch your eye. When you lifted your head, a gesture to show that you were listening, he gave you a gentle smile. “No apology needed.” You watched him beckon someone over, and you were glad to see that it was Jimin.

“Can you stay with her for a second? I need to find Yoongi hyung.” 

“Yeah, of course,” Jimin said without hesitation. He watched Hobi walk away before facing you. Your eyes met the floor, too embarrassed to look at him.

“You alright, honey?” Jimin asked. “You seemed okay thirty minutes ago.” Jimin was most likely referring to the conversation you were having with all of the boys after the eight of you had taken a group photo together. You had genuinely been having a good time, bantering with the guys and laughing at their jokes. Before your gaze even hit the ground, Jimin had noticed the frantic look in your eyes. He noticed how you were now biting your lip and picking at the skin on your thumb—signs of your climbing anxiety that the boys were familiar with. 

“Yeah, just… need Yoongi.”

Jimin clicked his tongue. “Aigoo. It’s getting all too much, hm?” 

You nodded, shoulders slumping in relief now that you knew you didn’t have to explain yourself to Jimin. Aside from Yoongi, his bandmates knew you all too well. Yoongi was their brother, and in return you were like a little sister to them. They would protect your life as if it were their own. If Yoongi wasn’t there, they were ready to step up in any way they could.

Not a minute later, Hobi had returned with a calm looking Yoongi at his side, carrying glasses filled with a bubbly, red-colored liquid in each hand. 

“Woohyuk was keeping him hostage,” Hobi joked, trying to keep the mood light. He also knew you would feel more reassured about Yoongi’s absence after being given an explanation. 

You huffed out a small laugh, genuinely amused by Woohyuk’s predictability but finding it hard to continue wearing a happy face. It was a running joke between the eight of you that Woohyuk, a producer under Hybe, could never read the room during a conversation; he always rambled longer than he needed to, and he often made it hard for the other person to find a way out of the conversation. But right now, you couldn’t focus on the hilarity of the situation. You currently needed to be alone with your boyfriend. 

Yoongi eyes flickered across your face, immediately understanding what to do. 

“Can you hold onto these?” Yoongi asked, handing Jimin one glass and Hobi the other.

The two of them nodded, trying to hide their worried faces but failing miserably at it. They knew you could get overwhelmed at events like these, but your mood had changed so suddenly. They usually had warnings, anxiety signs popping up gradually. Yet now, it seemed as though a switch had been flipped inside you. Jimin and Hobi wondered if they had missed something earlier. 

“We’ll be right back,” Yoongi reassured, grabbing your hand. 

Yoongi guided you across the room, gently pulling your hand into his chest to keep you close. The walk to the hallway felt endless as you dodged guests and furniture that was placed around the room with no rhyme or reason. People were greeting you left and right while others shot you smiles, but you could barely register them. Your eyes were set on the green exit sign ahead of you. You grunted as your arm brushed someone’s back, only wanting to feel Yoongi’s touch.

When you finally made it to the door, Yoongi opened it swiftly, beckoning you out of the room first. Once the door shut, you felt like you could fully breathe again. The air out there was cooler and less suffocating. The hallway was dim, warmly lit only by tiny lamps lining the wall every few feet. You shut your eyes for a moment, relieved now that the bass from the music was slightly muffled by the wall. 

“There we go,” Yoongi said, voice gentle and low. If you were in the room next door, you wouldn’t have been able to hear him. It was just loud enough to hear over the booming bass, enough to soothe you—until another guest opened the door, causing you to wince. 

A cacophony of music, excited conversations, and laughter briefly filled your sensitive ears. You watched the man walk down the hallway and into the men’s restroom, eyes furrowed with irrational anger toward the innocent party-goer just for opening a door. 

“Hey,” Yoongi said softly. “Look at me.” 

You sighed, lifting a hand to your forehead as you tried to relax. You couldn’t help but feel guilty. The two of you were there to celebrate Hobi’s album release, but you couldn’t focus. You didn’t want to take Yoongi away from his best friend or ruin the night for him just because you couldn’t keep your anxiety and irritation at bay. You were overwhelmed—almost annoyingly so—yet he was being so patient with you. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, keeping your eyes on the floor rather than doing what he asked.

Yoongi hooked his index finger under your chin, guiding you to meet his eyes. “Good girl,” he said, just as softly as before. “What’re you sorry for, hm?”

“For taking you away from the party. I’m just so… ugh. I can’t help it. I’m getting overwhelmed in there and you have to be out here rather than with Hobi just to calm me down. You shouldn’t be dealing with this.”

“I’m not ‘dealing’ with anything,” Yoongi said patiently, a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “I’m simply helping my partner through a situation that she and I knew from the very beginning might stress her out. I have no problem being out here with you, jagi. I figured this would happen, and I don’t mind it one bit. I was prepared.”

You grunted, still not sold.

“It’s okay to take five minutes to yourself,” Yoongi continued. “It’s only natural when you’re in an environment that you don’t actively seek out or you’re not used to. You’re simply not sociable. You’re just not a party person, no matter whose it is. You like smaller get-togethers. You can’t be expected to be okay with this type of environment the entire time.”

“But I was having a good time,” you pouted. “I just…”

“Needed a second,” Yoongi finished for you. “And that’s okay. You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to do that. That’s what we’re doing now, right?”

“Yeah…” you admitted, closing your eyes as he leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“What if I told you that I’ve been feeling exactly how you are right now?”

You leaned back, scanning his face curiously. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But you’re hiding it so well.”

“It’s part of the job, love,” Yoongi chuckled. “I’m used to putting on a face when I’m feeling anxious or overwhelmed. I have to be professional. That’s not to say I’m bottling it up. I take time to give myself the space to relax amidst the chaos, whether that be a bathroom break or putting my foot down to say I need some fresh air. The right people will understand.”

“But how are you so calm right now?” You asked, dumbfounded.

“I stepped out a few times to take a breather.”

You nodded, remembering how Yoongi had taken at least three “bathroom breaks” since arriving a couple hours ago. 

“And I’ve been making sure to stay by your side and hold most of the conversations with the boys,” he explained, cheeks darkening slightly at the allusion of his affections for you and his bandmates. “It uh, helps ground me. Keep me in a space where I’m actually enjoying myself.”

You smiled at that, wrapping your arms around his torso. You knew he was too shy to look at you, and you had an overwhelming urge to be hugged by him, so you hid in his chest for the sake of both of you. 

You realized that you had been engaging in conversations with so many different people throughout the night, feeling as though you had to socialize with as many fellow guests as possible in fear of appearing rude or closed off. You had completely disregarded your plan to stick with Yoongi or one of the other boys throughout the night.

After hearing Yoongi’s advice, you realized that you had been draining your social battery. It was polite to engage in conversation with the other guests, but you didn’t have to go on for nearly as long as you forced yourself to. It was okay to divert to a subtle escape and to say no. 

“I’m not like this all the time though,” Yoongi continued. “I just have to be in the right place. For example, concerts are loud but I always have a good time putting on a show. As for this party, yes the rest of the group is here—but there are also a ton of other people here that I’ve only talked to a few times in my life. It makes this circumstance harder to deal with, so I have to step out here and there to regulate.”

“Do you go to therapy or something?” You said sarcastically, but genuinely marveled by how Yoongi could explain things on a level that you could understand. You already knew he went to therapy and could build on the skills he learned after each session, but you were often amazed at how he always knew just what to say—the right thing to empathize and put you at ease.

Yoongi didn’t respond; you only felt his chest move from under your cheek as he chuckled warmly. 

“We can stay out here for a bit. Let me know when you’re ready to go back in.”

You nodded against his chest, sinking into his warmth. It felt different from the warmth you felt in the room on the other side of the door. 

“Do you know what made you start feeling this way, or when it started?” Yoongi questioned, pulling away from you with a gentle firmness.

“I don’t know. I think it was a little after we took the group photo and scattered.” You paused, wracking your brain for any further explanations. “I guess I just felt safe and stable being around the seven of you. I think I’ve been on edge all night without really noticing, so when I finally felt calm—and then it was ripped from me—it was like I fell flat on my face. That was really the only time I had been with them the entire night. I should’ve been spacing out my time with them like we planned, but I didn’t. I spent it talking to people I didn’t really want to talk to.”

You huffed out a sarcastic laugh. 

“I think there’s a difference between stepping out of your comfort zone and running out of your comfort zone, jagi. I’m so proud of you for wanting to get more comfortable with socializing, but I think you might have over done it too quickly, hm? It’s okay to take it slow.”

You bit your lip, then nodded, albeit belatedly. “I burnt myself out.”

“Exactly, baby.” He rubbed your biceps in an attempt to soothe you and avoid making you feel attacked or embarrassed. “But I’m so proud of you. You did so good, even though it was probably so hard for you.”

You leaned into your boyfriend once more, melting into him as you wrapped your arms around his waist and tucked your head under his chin. You mumbled out a tiny “thank you,” putting a fond smile on his face that you couldn’t see.

“How about we take things slow, hm?”

“How?” You whined.

“For tonight, we don’t need to talk to anyone else if that’s what will make you feel more comfortable. I think you pushed yourself as much as you could for the night. It can just be you and me in the corner—and the boys whenever they come over, of course.”

He sensed you stiffening against him, so he rubbed your back. “And for the future, maybe you can consider coming along to some events more often, rather than skipping most of them. That way, you can expose yourself more and get more comfortable rather than avoiding them. I know we do it for your privacy, so we’ll find a way to hide you from so many cameras. How does that sound? ”

You snuggled under his chin. “That’s doable.”

“That’s my girl,” he crooned, voice deep and velvety. “Should we go back in?”

You nodded into his chest, snuggling in a little deeper to savor the moment. “‘Mkay.”

Reluctantly, you let go of your boyfriend. Yoongi opened the door for you once more, allowing you to hook your arm through his own while he led you through the packs of guests. Ending up in your corner from before, you sat on a low wall resembling cement a few feet in front of the actual wall, an interesting architectural choice that was too firm for your rear. 

“We can just sit here and people watch for a little bit,” Yoongi suggested, sitting down beside you. “We don’t have to stay for long.”

You hummed in reply, but upon realizing that he probably couldn’t hear you over the music, you nodded in his direction. You swung your legs as you observed the room around you, letting your heels hit the wall repeatedly as your feet came back down.

Across the room, you watched Hobi dancing to Butter, then you glanced to the side of the stage where Taehyung, Namjoon and Jin looked on fondly. Beside them, Jimin laughed as he pointed at Jungkook, who was laying on the ground and adorably tapping his feet to the song’s rhythm with a glass of champagne in his hand. 

You wanted to go over there and join them, but the last thing you wanted to do was dodge a maze of tables, seats that were oddly shaped as bulky cubes, and spatially unaware elbows. Your social battery was nearly dead, but you wanted to hang on a little longer out of respect for Hobi and any other peers who were a part of the album-making process. You knew Yoongi felt the same.

Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi’s eyes were only on you and no one else in the room. You were wearing an adorable little pout, and as cute as it was, he knew he had to get rid of it. If the two of you were going to stay for Hobi’s sake, he had to at least distract you from your stressors. 

“Give me your hand,” Yoongi directed lazily. 

Without question, you clasped your hand in his, assuming that he only meant to hold it. However, when he shook your hand off, you shot him a confused look. Yoongi didn’t respond; he only took your hand and rotated it so that your palm faced the ceiling. 

“What are you—”

“Shh. You’ll see.”

Yoongi had only done this a couple times before, otherwise you would have known what was up his sleeve. 

Yoongi began running his fingers around your palm. The speed at which he did so was fairly slow, but it was still enough to make you squirm and stretch your arm out at the sensation. Goosebumps erupted on your wrist, traveling up your arm and making you roll your neck. 

Your pout was being replaced with a smile that you were attempting to suppress. You couldn’t help it—pressing your lips together made it easier to stop yourself from moving so much. Furthermore, Yoongi’s tactic at making you feel better made you feel quite shy. 

Yoongi swirled the tip of his index finger across the skin of your palm and he took care to trace every line. The side of your palm—the base of your pinky finger—appeared to be the most ticklish. Yoongi took notice of this by the way you fidgeted, fighting hard to keep your hand open. He intentionally stretched out the moments he spent in that area, focusing on it until he knew you were a second away from snatching your hand back. But then, he would give you brief breaks, dragging his blunt nail up and down the underside of each of your fingers where you were less sensitive. 

As Yoongi continued, you were becoming more and more used to the sensation; it was becoming more soothing rather than overwhelming ticklish. You could feel yourself relaxing at each moment passing by, watching Yoongi’s groupmates goofing off from afar while basking in the feeling of Yoongi tickling your palm. He switched between using five digits around your palm and then letting one finger do all the work. You didn’t know which tactic you preferred more. 

After a few minutes, Yoongi stopped and lifted your hand to his lips. He kissed the top of your hand before clasping it and bringing it down to his lap protectively.

“Thank you,” you said, lowering your head to rest on his shoulder. 

Yoongi purred, patting the top of your hand in acknowledgement. 

Deep down, you wanted Yoongi to keep going, but you realized he must have stopped as Jin was walking towards the two of you. How you felt about being tickled was something shared between you and Yoongi only. You knew that the other boys wouldn’t care, but tickling was a sensitive and intimate topic for you—information that you could currently only trust to be in the hands of your boyfriend.

“I’m heading out,” Jin said loudly so that you could hear him over the music. “I’ve got an early schedule tomorrow.”

You stood up and embraced Jin. “Bye, Jinnie.” You stepped back and watched Jin hug Yoongi as well.

“Let’s walk out together,” Yoongi suggested. “Y/N and I are quite tired so I think we’ll leave too.” 

Your goodbyes to the boys went by in a blur, seeing as you were eager to get out of there. You received hugs from each of them, as well as praises for getting out of your comfort zone. Hobi thanked you more times than you could count for making it to the listening party, and his gratefulness made you all the more happy that you came and stayed for as long as you did. You were proud of yourself, and more importantly, the joyful look on Hobi’s face made it all worth it. 

You could have celebrated Hobi’s album from afar—shooting him a text message, calling him on the phone, congratulating him between schedules—but showing up to the main event was a significant gesture. He was one of Yoongi’s best friends, and because of that, he was one of yours, too. You owed it to him. 

As you stepped out of the elevator and into the parking garage, you and Yoongi bid Jin one last goodbye as he walked to his car. The two of you walked hand-in-hand to your own SUV. Listening for the quiet signal of the door unlocking, you put your hand on the door handle to hop in but Yoongi stopped you, moving to open the door himself. You giggled softly, tired but still giddy over his chivalry. 

You watched Yoongi make his way to his side of the car and sighed. You couldn’t wait to go home. For the most part, you had a good time, but you felt drained.

Yoongi flopped into his seat and let the door shut. You thought nothing of him opening the center console for something. While his left hand rummaged around, you didn’t expect his right hand to find its way to your side. You jerked, not being able to move very far in such a small space. Not only that, you were already secure in your seatbelt. 

“Hey—!”

“What?” Yoongi questioned, feigning innocence. He continued to squeeze and crawl his fingers around your side. You gripped his fingers, attempting to bend them while squirming this way and that to escape the feeling. But, Yoongi was strong, and his hand was stuck to you like glue. 

“Why’re you fidgeting so much?” Yoongi asked, still acting clueless. 

You couldn’t reply, only splutter out embarrassed giggles over your predicament.

And just as quickly as the tickles began, they stopped. Yoongi turned the car on, moving on as if nothing happened. You panted slightly, surprisingly out of breath from being caught off guard and unable to defend yourself. 

Yoongi craned his neck, about to back out of the parking spot. Unbeknownst to you, he never put the car in reverse. Using a couple that was actually walking by the car to carry out his charade, Yoongi pretended to watch them pass so that he could “back out.” Then, he blindly reached for your stomach, fingers wiggling over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the sides of your tummy, thumb finding just the right spots to make your laughter burst out. 

“WHAT THE F—”

“Why’re you laughing?” He was evil. You could almost hear his own entertained laughter fighting to release itself from his pursed lips as he continued to pretend looking behind the car for any more pedestrians. Meanwhile, his fingers attacked you with squeezes and scribbles. You jolted forward—almost smacking your head on the glove compartment before flopping back into your leather seat. 

“Careful, jagi!” Yoongi instructed, voice playful but laced with genuine concern. 

You gripped his wrist and shoved it away, your success mostly credited to him backing off. The possibility of you bumping your head gave Yoongi a scare. Luckily, you appeared unfazed; a grin was plastered on your face as you panted, anticipating another attack. 

“What the fuck,” you managed to finish, not at all angry but feigning irritation to mask how much you actually loved it. 

“Are you okay? You’re pretty fidgety and giggly. Did someone put something in your drink? Do I need to hunt someone down?”

“I’m fihihine.” 

“If you say so…”

Yoongi actually put the car in reverse and made his way out of the parking garage, making sure to give a polite wave to an employee by the gate. 

About five minutes into the ride home, Yoongi slowed to stop at a red light. You watched the light, waiting patiently for it to turn green. The quicker you got home, the sooner you could shower, change into comfy pajamas, and snuggle into Yoongi’s side. 

Suddenly, you were ripped out of your thoughts, yelping as you felt a hand squeeze your upper thigh. 

In a split second, Yoongi’s hand was already gone from your thigh, resting on the steering wheel as if he did nothing. Then, before you could even register it, his hand was attached to your thigh again. You saw it coming this time, but you still weren’t prepared. He squeezed your thigh several times, making you shriek and jerk violently at the electric feeling. 

“YOONGI!” You screamed during the last squeeze, partly because it felt so ticklish and partly because you wanted him to focus on the road. 

Yoongi couldn’t keep a straight face anymore. The light turned green, highlighting his gummy smile and the small crinkles by his eyes. He eased onto the gas as he chuckled, shoulders shaking as you groaned in embarrassment. But you loved it, and he knew that, no matter how much you outwardly protested. You loved being surprised, you loved being trapped, and you loved having to succumb to his touch. You loved the moment of panic, because at the end of the day, he made you feel safe and comforted. He was a cat and you were the mouse, enjoying the chase. 

It wasn’t long before Yoongi was smoothly pulling into the parking garage of your apartment complex. You stretched to relieve your fatigue, groaning slightly as your muscles went rigid before relaxing. 

Yoongi directed you not to get out of the car yet, and a second later, he was scurrying around the car to the passenger side. The door popped open, and before you could unbuckle your seatbelt, Yoongi was already reaching for it to do it himself. You smiled at his unyielding chivalry, moving your arm to climb out of the car.

However, you were stopped short when Yoongi’s hands shot to your sides, kneading and pinching just under your ribs. You curled up in the seat, bringing your legs up to your chest and your shoulders up to your neck to protect whatever dignity you had left. 

“I’m gonna kill youhohohou,” you strained through giggles. 

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi said matter-of-factly, a smug smile on his face.

Yoongi switched spots, now aiming for your collarbones. You sunk down into your seat even more, laughter going silent the second you felt the flutter of his fingers near your neck. Curling up into the fetal position did nothing to protect you; Yoongi still found ways to slip his fingers in every crevice, and he took advantage of each spot opening up as you did your best to twist and turn in the small space. 

“My poor baby,” he teased, grinning as a new wave of laughter rolled out of you. “I don’t think we can go to any parties anymore. She’s gone crazy.”

You didn’t have any breath left to dispute him. You simply sunk down further, nearly snuck between the dashboard and the bottom of the seat. That was Yoongi’s sign to finally conclude his playful assault.

You lay limp in your seat, breathing heavily as you tried to catch your breath. You adjusted your dress and hair, as both had become disheveled from all of the flailing. 

“You okay?” Yoongi asked innocently, shoulders shaking as he watched you pull yourself together.

“No,” you whined, but your bright smile told him otherwise.

“Come here, my baby,” he said, offering up his hands for you to hold. You looked up at him suspiciously.

His eyes scrunched as he was overcome by giggles. “I’m done, I promise.”

Thus, you accepted his hands, allowing him to pull you out of the car. You wobbled slightly, leaning into Yoongi to steady yourself as he swiftly shut the door and locked the car. Just the mere proximity of Yoongi’s chest to your own made you want to melt into him—so you did. Your arms found their way under his armpits and your hands clung onto his shoulders. You nuzzled into your boyfriend like a kitten, sighing contentedly as you could still make out Yoongi’s natural scent through his expensive cologne. 

“Someone’s sleepy,” he drawled, pulling you even closer and patting your back.

“Yeah, ‘cuz of the party. And you tick—yeah. You t-worded me.”

“I tickled you?”

You giggled, cheeks and ears growing hot at the mere word. Yoongi could be so soft, never pointing out the fact that he was tickling you to pretend he wasn’t doing anything for your sake and to mask his overt prompts at initiating physical affection. However, he could also turn so wickedly blunt that you were left a bashful, giddy puddle. 

Yoongi maneuvered his head, lips nearly brushing your ear as he purred, “But I think someone loved it, hm?”

Your giggles grew in pitch as you shook your head against his chest. 

“You needed it, hm?” His tone turned softer. 

You nuzzled into him again, as if trying to rid an itch on your face. Then, you nodded. You could practically feel the soft, satisfied smile radiating off of Yoongi’s face. 

“Come on, my sleepy girl.”

Reluctantly, you pulled away from the embrace, opting to cling onto his arm instead. Your heels clacked against the concrete as you walked to the elevator. Yoongi had basically dragged you all the way there. The journey wasn’t even a minute long, but your aching feet made it feel longer. Yoongi tapped the button to go up as you spoke.

“When we get in—shower, pajamas, bed—no wait. Shower, pajamas, cuddles, bed.”

Yoongi chuckled, squeezing your hand. 

“Why’re you laughing?” You quipped, squeezing it back.

The doors dinged open, and he didn’t respond until you were in the elevator and the doors were shutting. 

“It should be shower, pajamas, cuddles, tickles, and then bed.”

You squeaked. Yoongi often gave you back tickles to help you fall asleep, especially after a hard day. That night was already a given, but he just had to point it out. 

As the elevator ascended, you leaned your head against Yoongi’s good shoulder. “Yoongs?”

He hummed.

“Thank you for making me feel better.”

“Always, jagi.”

[letshavefuntt]

Dinner at Jungkook’s

This fic has been sitting in my notes for i think over a month🤫🫠 so i decided to edit it and upload so we can all enjoy it together🩷🤭 hope you’re gonna like it lovelies🪶🪶🪶🪶

Genre: tickle fic

Warnings: none

It started in the back of a black SUV winding through the streets of Seoul. Jin was exhausted, but more than that, he was targeted.

Jungkook had spent the entire USA tour acting like a golden menace-sneaking up behind Jin to poke his sides or attacking his ribs every time they were backstage.

Jin leaned over to Jimin, his voice a whisper. "Jimin-ah, I can't take it anymore. My ribs are bruised from that brat's 'love.' We need to end this. Tomorrow, at his place for dinner... we strike."

Jimin's eyes turned into crescents as a devious smile spread across his face. "I've been waiting for you to say that, hyung. He got me during the practice yesterday. I'm in."

🪶🪶🪶🪶

Later (that night), Jimin pulled out his phone and opened a secret chat with Namjoon, Yoongi, Hobi, and Taehyung.

Jimin: Emergency meeting. The maknae has been a menace this whole tour. Jin-hyung and I are planning a counter tickle attack. Hobi: Finally!! He poked my sides so hard I’m still flinching. Yoongi: I'm only in if we actually pin him down. He's too fast. RM: He did break my focus during the speech...! suppose justice is required. Taehyung: I have the best spots memorized. Tomorrow at JK's house. When he serves the drinks, that's the signal. Jimin: Perfect. Tomorrow, 7 PM!

🪶🪶🪶🪶

The atmosphere at Jungkook's house the next day was very cozy. Jungkook, completely oblivious, was actually being quite the host, bustling around the kitchen.

"Hyungs, the food is almost ready!" he called out, flashing that innocent bunny smile that usually let him get away with anything.

The six of them exchanged a silent look. Jin gave a sharp nod. As Jungkook walked toward the coffee table with a tray of drinks, he noticed the way they were sitting-spread out, circling the area.

"Why are you guys looking at me like that?" Jungkook asked, his steps slowing.

"Oh, nothing, Kookie," Jin said, standing up and blocking the exit to the kitchen. "We just wanted to thank you for being such a... handy member this tour." Jimin stood up on the other side, cracking his knuckles with a grin. "Yeah. You've been so 'touchy-feely' lately, we thought we should return the favor."

Jungkook's eyes went wide. He put the tray (luckily on the near table) and turned to bolt, but Taehyung and Hobi were already behind him.

"Wait-no! Hyungs! It was just a joke!" Jungkook said, his voice already pitching higher in anticipation as the six-man circle closed in.

🪶🪶🪶🪶

Jungkook was pinned firmly in the center of the rug, a captive king in his own home.

Namjoon and Jin took the "heavy lifting" roles, each sitting by Jungkook's shoulders to keep his arms pinned wide. This left his torso completely defenseless. Hobi didn't waste a second, his fingers dancing a fast rhythm against Jungkook's collarbones and the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Oh, he's really ticklish here today," Hobi laughed, feeling the way Jungkook's neck muscles jumped under his touch. Jungkook's head thrashed from side to side, a smile plastered on his face. "Hyung-heehee! Not the neck-hahahahah!"

Down at the other end, Jimin had claimed Jungkook's feet. He knew the youngest was lethal with his kicks, so he sat firmly on Jungkook's ankles, his fingers doing circular patterns into the very center of Jungkook's arches. The sensation sent electric jolts through Jungkook's body, making his lower half twitch and writhe against the floor.

"Look at his toes curling," Jimin giggled, intensifying the pressure. "You were so brave in Las Vegas, Kookie! Where's that big energy now?"

Yoongi and Taehyung were the most surgical about it. They sat on either side of his waist, their fingers finding the small gaps between his ribs. Yoongi's touch was light and scratchy, like a spider skittering across Jungkook's skin, while Taehyung used firm, kneading pokes that made Jungkook arch his back so high his chest nearly hit Hobi's chin.

"He's like a vibrating phone," Yoongi joked, his own gummy smile breaking out as he felt Jungkook's stomach muscles fluttering frantically under his fingers.

"... I can't... haha... hahahahaha!" Jungkook wailed, his voice cracking. His eyes were watering, but they weren't tears of distress-they were bright with pure, unadulterated joy. Every time he managed to suck in a lungful of air, Jin would lean down and whisper, "This is for the tickles i received in Mexico," before digging his fingers into Jungkook's armpits.

The sound in the room was a symphony of chaos and bubbly giggles that Jungkook couldn't suppress. He felt completely surrounded, overwhelmed by the physical sensation of six people focusing entirely on him.

He finally went limp, his strength spent, just lying there and vibrating with silent, wheezing laughter while they continued to "scold" him with their fingertips. He felt pampered, in a shaky, breathless kind of way.

"Okay, okay, have mercy," Namjoon finally said, though he gave Jungkook one last squeeze to the ribs. "I think he's turned into a puddle."

As they slowly pulled their hands away, Jungkook stayed exactly where he was, his chest heaving as he stared up at his ceiling. He looked thoroughly "ruined," his shirt hiked up to his chest and his hair standing in every direction.

"You okay, Kook?" Jimin asked, reaching out to brush a stray hair from the younger boy's sweaty forehead. Jungkook let out one last, shaky giggle and nodded weakly. "Best... dinner party... ever."

🪶🪶🪶🪶

The six of them stayed sprawled around him on the rug, nobody in a hurry to move. Jungkook lay in the center of the circle, with a dazed, happy glow on his face.

"Look at him," Jin teased, leaning over and poking Jungkook's flushed cheek. "We're supposed to be punishing you, and you're lying there looking like you just had a spa day."

Jimin chuckled, resting a hand on Jungkook's ankle. "I've never seen someone enjoy being tickled so much. You didn't even try to use your 'Golden Maknae' strength to throw us off. You just... melted."

"I think we broke him," Yoongi added with a smirk, crossing his arms. "The big, strong maknae was reduced to a squeaky toy in under thirty seconds. I'm pretty sure I heard a whistle come out of his lungs at one point."

Jungkook tried to huff a defensive breath, but it just came out as another giggle. "I was... outnumbered," he managed to rasp out, though he made no effort to move or sit up.

"Outnumbered? Or just pampered?" Hobi cooed, reaching out to ruffle Jungkook's messy hair. "You love it when we all focus on you, don't you, Kook? Even if it means your ribs are tingling for the next three hours."

Taehyung crawled closer, hovering over Jungkook with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "He was definitely leaning into it. Every time I stopped for a second to let him catch his breath, he'd wiggle his side right back into my fingers. You’re totally loving it Jungkook-ah."

"I am not!" Jungkook protested, his voice finally returning, though he couldn't hide the shy, bunny-toothed grin.

"Admit it," Namjoon said, nudging Jungkook's shoulder with his foot. "You missed us being this clingy while we were busy traveling. This was just your way of getting your 'hyung-battery' recharged."

Jungkook finally rolled over, hiding his red face in the rug, his shoulders still shaking with lingering giggles. "Whatever. Just... feed me already. I think you guys tickled all the calories out of me."

"Oh, so he's back to being a brat already," Jin laughed, standing up and dusting off his pants.

"Come on, let's go eat before he decides he wants a second round of 'attention.'"

🪶🪶🪶🪶

[stupendousphilosopherballoon]

[bangtangiggles]

now who hid this clip from me 😭

[ticklesandboxysmiles]

FINALLY! I FINISHED THIS

Checkmate

Lee: Kim Seokjin

Ler: Kim Namjoon

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Ships: Namjin (they’re hubbys!)

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down 

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Seokjin and Namjoon were sitting on the living room rug, their bodies tense, the atmosphere heavy, a deadly silence…

It was a chess match!

Jin tried to move his knight, which soon captured one of his husband’s pawns, haha!

RM didn’t let that slide, and right after, with his bishop, he took the knight’s life.

Seokjin wouldn’t give up that easily, maybe if he tried to take that annoying bishop with his queen…

But that was exactly what Namjoon wanted…

“Checkmate, darling,” the rapper slowly moved his queen in front of the king, who had no escape or any fate other than accepting his death.

“Argh! Again, Namjoon!” Jin huffed, crossing his arms and turning his head away. He hated losing, but it was impossible to beat RM at chess!

“I’m sorry, Jinnie,” he laughed, reaching out a hand to boop the love of his life’s nose, who quickly pulled away before he could touch him. “But teasing you is so much fun, huh? That little face you make after you lose to me~”

Seokjin opened his mouth, making the most offended expression possible, then simply turned his face away.

“Hmph!”

RM laughed even more, ah~ Jin like this was so cute~

“You’re not going to ignore me, are you?”

“…”

Namjoon stood up, walking until he was standing in front of the singer. With his hands raised in the air, he slowly wiggled his fingers. Jin could see what he was doing, so he visibly blushed.

“Don’t be sad, Jinnie! The tickle monster is going to cheer you up again.” RM crouched down in front of Seokjin.

The older man felt his heart pound, but his dignity was worth much more than that! He kept looking to the side, arms crossed and a well-formed pout on his lips.

“If you don’t say anything, the tickle monster is going to want to see you laugh even more.”

It was the final warning.

And even so, Seokjin remained silent.

“Okay~”

Namjoon laughed before digging his fingers into the other’s sides, lightly moving them up and down like two spiders.

Jin grabbed his wrists, but that didn’t stop him one bit from continuing, and the older man was already starting to let out a few giggles…

“Pfff- lehehet gohoho…”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen~” RM lifted the other’s chin with one hand, lightly walking his fingers along his neck, making Jin let out a squeal.

“What was that?” Namjoon laughed, squeezing his husband’s ribs even more.

“Nahahahadahahaha! Argh! Nahahahahamjohohohohon!”

Seokjin tried to stand up, but was pushed onto the couch, where the rapper climbed onto his waist, now pinning his hands beneath his knees.

“Oops~”

“N-Namjoon! Let me go right now!” Jin exclaimed, the pout still on his face. He wasn’t going to give up that easily, definitely.

“Admit defeat, or else…”

The younger man raised his hands and brought them toward Jin’s knees, making him shiver.

“You wouldn’t do that…”

RM laughed.

“Checkmate, love.”

He squeezed both of the older man’s knees at the same time, sending a wave of shock through his body that made him burst into laughter.

“AHAHAHAHAHA! KIHIHIHIM NAHAHAHAJOHOHOHOHON!”

“Oh~ do you admit you lost? Do you admit it?~”

“AHAHAHAHA IHIHIHIHIHI HAHAHAHAHAHATEHEHEHE YOHOHOUHUHUHU!”

Namjoon stuck his tongue out at his husband. “What a sad thing to say.” He increased the intensity of his squeezes, making Seokjin squeal again.

“AHAHAHA OK! OK! IHIHIHIHIHI LOHOHOHOHOHOST!”

“Hm? What did you say? I can’t hear you over all that laughter…”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA JOHOHOHOHOHON!” Jin threw his head back, tears lightly forming at the corners of his eyes while his cheeks hurt from laughing so hard.

“Okay, alright,” the rapper laughed. “Only because you’re too cute.”

He picked up his husband and turned him so he was lying down with his head in his lap, then gave him a gentle kiss on the lips as he began running his fingers through Seokjin’s hair.

“Argh… you always win…” the singer huffed.

“Only at chess, and at tickling… now let’s see who can make the better cake, huh?”

Jin laughed, making RM laugh too. This time, he could accept losing.

But only this once, okay?

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

Thanks

[namjoonstiddies916]

UGH I LOVE🥹🫶🏼

[bangtangiggles]

rough day

￫ summary: Namjoon coming home late was the last straw after a day full of minor inconveniences. Projecting your anger onto your boyfriend, Namjoon uses tickles to combat your grumpiness and help you to open up about why you're upset.

￫ genre: tickle fic, hurt/comfort, fluff

￫ pairing(s): namjoon x reader

￫ warnings: none

￫ word count: 3.5k

￫ A/N: i think it's really funny how namjoon posted on his instagram story yesterday saying he had been trying to organize a bunch of books for two months... this draft i've been meaning to post mentions how the two of you have been planning to organize books for TWO MONTHS 😅 it's confirmed, namjoon and i are connected somehow... jk jk. crazy coincidence!!

if there are any errors i sincerely apologize. also, seeing as i wrote this with myself in mind, please note that this fic is written from the perspective of fem!reader with my features.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You were sprawled on your stomach, cheek squished against the couch cushion under you. Huffing, you stretched your arm out to reach the TV remote that had fallen on the floor at least twenty minutes ago but you were too lazy to pick up. But now, you had to put on a different show. You hated this show. You hated the theme song and you hated that one actor. Okay, maybe hate was a strong word. Nevertheless, you had to change the channel. And you needed to turn down the volume. Why had you put it up so loud? Making sure the volume was at an acceptable even number, you huffed again. 

Where is Namjoon? You thought. He usually arrived home from the studio or dance practice later than intended, which you always understood. It was just part of the job. However, you wanted him home now. You had a shit day; nothing extremely horrible happened, but it was one thing after another, overflowing like a sourdough starter. You wanted to crawl into his arms and ask him for playful kisses to make it all better, but at the same time you didn’t want to see him. Namjoon coming home late was just the cherry on top of your bad day, and you wanted to blame him for something that wasn’t always in his control. It was silly, immature, and yet selfishly human; you couldn’t help it. 

Right on cue, you heard the keypad from the front door dinging. Making his way into the living room, Namjoon let out a relieved sigh as he saw you, a breathless “Hi, baby,” leaving his mouth. Unluckily for him, you were going to drag out your bad mood a little longer. 

You only grumbled in response, your pride stopping you from jumping up and attacking Namjoon with a bear hug. 

Namjoon stopped in his tracks, his duffel bag falling onto the floor with a large thump. He studied you on the couch. You hadn’t even spared him a glance; you just stared ahead at the TV. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were formed into a pout. Although you looked concentrated, he knew that you were feeling the opposite. He could tell your mind was loud, thoughts going in dozens of different directions. Your body language screamed, “don’t talk to me.” But, Namjoon knew that wasn’t what was best for you right now.

Namjoon made his way to the other end of the couch, lifting your ankles up and laying them across his lap so he could sit. He watched the TV screen for several seconds before turning his head to you. He watched you quietly, noticing the sour look still on your face. You weren’t budging. 

“Rough day?” Namjoon asked gently.

You didn’t answer. He tilted his head and tried again, more playfully this time. “You look like you’re two seconds away from growling at someone. Want to growl at me?”

You huffed, lips twitching just slightly.

“Ah,” Namjoon teased, leaning forward so that he could see your face better. “I think I saw the tiniest flicker of a smile.”

You shook your head and turned your head away from the TV and towards the back of the couch instead. You crossed your arms under you and tried to get comfy, still fuming inside. You figured you should’ve just told him right away what was wrong—that you had a bad day and him coming back late wasn’t helping—but you felt as though you needed to sulk and fuel your anger a little longer, and make him feel a taste of guilt. Just a pinch of it. 

Namjoon knew you needed space sometimes. But, he also knew you. He knew the secret remedy you’d never ask for out loud, but your silence always begged for. He knew what you needed deep down, even if it wasn’t crossing your mind at that moment.

“Okay,” he said with mock seriousness, reaching behind you to grab the remote and mute the TV. “I’m gonna offer you three options.”

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, wary.

“One,” he lifted a finger, “I can give you a long, philosophical talk about perspective.”

You let out a deep sigh and turned your head slightly to subtly look at him a little better. You couldn’t risk him catching another glimpse of a smile.

“Two,” he lifted a second finger, “I can let you stew in your adorable, little huffiness for the next hour to let you cool off and then we should talk.”

You rolled your eyes but still didn’t speak.

“Or three…” A sly smile spread across his face as his fingers wiggled in the air. “I fix your grumpiness with tickles.”

Your eyes went wide, a sudden fluster rushing to your face as you tightened your crossed arms protectively. You weren’t expecting him to bring tickles up, let alone be so direct about it. 

As he was never one to dismiss your anger or sadness, you knew Namjoon would be gentle. Immediately attacking you with rough tickles to fix your mood wasn’t your thing. You also knew he would stop if you wanted him to. But you also really, really didn’t want him to stop.

“Don’t,” you mumbled, not wanting to give him an answer nor admit what you really wanted. 

“What’s it gonna be, baby?” He asked, fingers pausing to let you think without intimidation. When you refused to respond, he continued. “I’m going to take silence as you wanting number three…”

Your eyes seared forward into the dark cushions, not daring to look at him as you remained silent. 

“Option three it is,” he grinned, crawling on top of you and straddling your back.

Your whole body squirmed the second his fingers snuck into your underarms. You tried to suppress the laughter, but it easily bubbled out anyway—giddy, sweet, and full of the exact joy he was hoping to pull out of you. It was impossible not to laugh when he had you trapped on your stomach with absolutely nowhere to go. It was so much harder to move, and it somehow made you breathless faster. Laughter poured out of you, loud yet slightly muffled by the couch cushion under you. 

You gasped between laughs, trying to catch them into suppression but failing miserably. 

“I can hear you laughing, baby,” Namjoon chuckled, eyes gleaming. “There’s no use trying to stop.”

He tickled down your ribs and squeezed the sides of your waist, making you screech in delight. His fingers spidered back up your sides, and he laughed as you jerked when his hands slipped over the soft sides of your breasts. 

“JOOHOOHOONIE!!” You shrieked through your laughter, as that was one of your worst spots. 

"You’re not going to be grumpy for much longer,” Namjoon sing-songed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your shoulder between scribbles.

You tried to glare, but you were laughing too hard. Every time you pushed at his hands, he just redirected, sneaking around your defenses with expert ease. It wasn’t too hard for him to do so anyway, as reaching behind you was a near impossible task. If you tried to grab his hands at your ribs, you would open up your armpits, allowing him to slip his hands back into them. Each time he’d pull them out, his action continued an endless cycle of unsuccessful attempts to grab them just for him to take advantage of your open spots all over again.

Namjoon made a couple more rounds over your ribcage and waist, slipping his hands just under your shirt when you squirmed just right. Your skin, already feeling electrified from each precise touch, erupted in goosebumps. Roaring laughter came over you in waves each time his fingertips grazed over particular areas of your bare skin in strategic patterns.

After another minute, his fingers slowed, becoming more feathery as they grazed along your stretched ribs and across your back. 

“Joohoohoon…” you giggled deeply into one of the decorative couch pillows. You were so flustered, and the transition from unpredictable tickles to steady back scratches was making you melt. 

Due to you laying on your stomach, Namjoon could tell you were already getting tickled out, and simply wanted to calm you down now, partly to allow you to catch your breath but also to hopefully give you the headspace to open up about what was bothering you.

He leaned down and brushed away the hair from your face, smiling at your smooshed cheek against the couch. “Feel a little better?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed and breathless from all the affection. Namjoon kissed the tip of your nose and climbed off of you. You rolled over dramatically and flopped onto your back. Before you could do anything more, he was pulling you into a warm embrace, settling you into his lap.

“My baby girl,” he whispered fondly, chuckling as you nuzzled bashfully into his neck. “Should we talk about what made my pretty girl so grumpy?”

You shook your head against his neck, fearing that if you told him, he’d view you as childish. 

Patient as always, Namjoon nuzzled right back and rubbed your arm in a soothing manner. “I think we should. It doesn’t feel nice to be brushed off when you arrive home from work.”

A pang of guilt struck your chest, but you couldn’t feel sorry for yourself. It bothered you that he repeatedly came back from work so late, but that didn’t give you the right to intentionally hurt his feelings. You shifted uncomfortably in his lap, embarrassed about being called out. However, Namjoon was opening the floor for you to do what he did best—communicating and sharing thoughts and concerns. 

Namjoon started for you, continuing to rub your arm so that you didn’t feel overwhelmed. “I take it you did have a rough day, huh?”

You nodded, encouraged to speak with help from Namjoon’s unwavering patience and guidance. “It just felt like everything went wrong today. I spilled my coffee this morning and it got all over the counter. Right after I cleaned that up, I made myself another cup and ended up spilling that one too—all over my shirt! And I didn’t even bother making another cup of coffee because I felt like I was just going to spill it all over again.”

“Poor baby needs her coffee in the morning,” Namjoon teased, briefly tickling your tummy. You smacked his hand, half-heartedly fighting your growing smile despite having to detail the day’s obstacles.

"After I threw my shirt in the wash, I decided to change our bedsheets and prepare another load of laundry. I ended up stubbing my toe on the bed frame.” You pouted, remembering how it took nearly thirty minutes for the pain to completely subside. 

“Do you need me to kiss it better?” Namjoon asked, playful but genuine. 

“Nohoho,” you giggled uneasily, curling up into a ball in his lap to protect your feet, just in case he had any ideas. 

“Okay, okay, go on, baby girl.”

“Well, while I was waiting for the laundry to be done, I decided to start color-coding the books on the bookshelf.” Namjoon nodded, endeared as he imagined your determination about completing a task the both of you had been procrastinating for two months now. He could see your focused face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squinting slightly as you analyzed the rows and rows of books you owned, working out the best course of action. “I gave up, Joon. I’m sorry. It got too overwhelming. There are books all over the floor in there. We just have so many books, and there are just too many variations in colors and sizes and not enough room to—”

“Take a deep breath, baby.” Namjoon’s voice wasn’t impatient, it was steady and unhurried. He wasn’t one to interrupt, but he figured it was best for you to slow down; it was imperative so that he could understand what you were saying and he disliked the idea of you becoming overwhelmed all over again. 

You did as he directed and continued. “Alright, well, I didn’t finish the bookshelf and there’s a mess to pick up later. And the coffee smell in the kitchen was too strong so I opened a window to air it out which honestly was pretty stupid since it’s so cold out—”

You shrunk at the rueful smile Namjoon was wearing due to another barrage of rambles from you. You needed to slow down.

“—sorry. I got cold, so I wanted to wear my favorite hoodie—you know, the one you got me for my birthday last year? But I couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere, Joonie. It’s nowhere to be found. I looked in the laundry, my closet…your closet. I even looked in the trash because I was so desperate. I don’t know where I could have put it.”

Namjoon’s hand moved to your head, wanting to give his two cents but he could tell you weren’t done. You melted into the feeling of Namjoon’s fingers scratching at your scalp, feeling bad for what you were going to bring up next.

“And then…” You trailed off, biting your lip and focusing on Namjoon’s tanned neck. The little hairs and natural lines from constant movement were much more appealing to you right now than having to admit your pettiness. 

“You didn’t come home when you said you probably would be. I know that’s usually the case, but… I don’t know. Today was just one thing after another, and I just wanted you home. You make it better. I just needed your cuddles or something right away. And when you didn’t come on time, I got upset and I wanted to make you upset too. I-I’m sorry.” Your voice wavered as you revealed the last thought, and you knew you couldn’t go on. Everything you wanted to say was basically covered, so it didn’t really matter.

Hearing your voice crack, Namjoon cooed into your ear, pulling you closer than you thought was already possible. “My baby, I’m so sorry you had a bad day. I’m here now, yeah? I’ll give you all the cuddles or ‘something’s’ that you need.”

A few tears had spilled from your eyes, yet you let out a watery giggle at how he took your own words for his own. 

“I know it was petty and immature and childish but—”

“You don’t have to explain, baby,” Namjoon interjected gently. “I can see how me doing that repeatedly can build up inside you, especially when other things pile up beside it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to hold you, baby girl. I’m here now, and I’ll hold you for as long as you need me. I’ll try to be better about coming home on time—or earlier, at the very least. I promise.”

You finally took your head out of the crook of his neck to place a firm kiss to his lips, a gesture to note a thank you.

“Can you just do something for me, baby?” Namjoon asked when you pulled away. You hummed. “Just talk to me about it next time, okay? I don’t think I deserved the silent treatment. I deserved at least a growl…”

You smacked his chest, but understood the seriousness of his request. “I’ll do that, baby.”

“You’ll growl at me or talk to me?”

“Joohoohoon!” You smacked his chest again, falling into exasperated laughter. “Talk to you, obviously!”

“I know, baby, I know, I’m just teasing,” Namjoon grinned, amused how he could rile you up. “But see how this is better? You could’ve been your cute, huffy self with your arms crossed on the couch, not saying a word. But instead, you’re being your cute, huffy self here in my arms, and we’re talking about it.” 

“Yeah…” you blushed, tummy fluttering at how he described you.

“But just so you know, baby, you don’t always have to talk about your bad day immediately if you don’t want to. You can just say that something’s bothering you, and that you’ll tell me about it when you’re ready.” Namjoon gave you a reassuring smile, dimples popping out as he made sure you were taking his words into consideration. When you nodded, he continued. 

“In the meantime, I’d like to comfort you in any way that I can, even if I’m part of the reason why you’re upset. Whether that be a hug, or sitting on the opposite end of the couch, I want to make it better like you said I do. Does that sound good? I don’t like seeing my baby sad or grumpy, even if you do look pretty cute…” 

Another watery giggle flowed from your lips. “Sounds good.”

"Just say something, okay?" He reiterated. "Otherwise, I'll just have to tickle you again."

He grinned as you squirmed at that statement, knowing he was being goofy but that there was also some truth behind it.

“Now, how can we make the rest of the day better, hm? Can we fix anything?” 

You shrugged, mentally finished with the day. It didn’t feel like there was any saving it at that point, as it was late enough already. Other than mending your little grudge against Namjoon, it didn’t feel like any more solutions could be presented. You just wanted to take a shower, jump into bed, and cuddle up to Namjoon while he read to you until sleep caught a hold of you. The quickest way to a fresh start was the only solution in your vision. 

“Well, you got the coffee cleaned up, right? Did you get the stain out?”

“Yes, thank goodness.”

“Perfect! That’s one less thing you have to worry about. The bookshelf didn’t work out, but we can always do that another day. I have the day off tomorrow, so how about we tackle that, hm?” 

You scrunched up your nose, the thought of having to face that wretched bookshelf again was daunting. However, you really did need to get that mess off the floor; the mess alone would eventually stress you out more than the hours it would probably take to color-code. “‘Mkay,” you sighed, but nevertheless gave Namjoon a promising smile.

“Now that those are out of the way, I think you’ll be pleased to hear that I know where your hoodie is, baby girl.” 

“What?!” You exclaimed, sitting up in his lap. “Where?”

“You left it in my studio,” Namjoon laughed, the crinkles by his eyes deepening when your face lit up at the news. “Remember when you came by last week? The heater wasn’t working properly so you took it off when it got too warm in there. I found it on my couch a few days ago and I keep forgetting to bring it back.”

“Oh my god, Namjoon,” you breathed out, putting a hand to your chest. “Thank you so much.” That hoodie didn’t mean a lot to you solely because it was a birthday gift from Namjoon. It was the coziest hoodie that you owned, fleece-lined with a large hood that you could hide under and cuffed sleeves that hugged your wrists but didn’t constrict you. It was also plain and dark grey, so it matched just about any combination of pants and shoes in your wardrobe. But most importantly, out of all of your clothes, it somehow smelt like Namjoon the most. It was most likely because you made Namjoon wear it often, as you thought he looked so handsome and cuddly in it—especially when paired with grey sweatpants. 

“You’re very welcome, my love. Now, what am I forgetting? Coffee, bookshelf, hoodie, coming home late…” Namjoon raised an eyebrow as he counted on his hands, starting with his pinky and pausing at his index finger. 

“I stubbed my toe,” you whined, lifting your left leg up for dramatic effect.

“Aigoo, yes! Well, I’ve got to kiss it better, don’t I?”

“No, baby, it’s fine,” you giggled nervously. You weren’t falling for it. If you gave him your foot with the alleged intention of receiving a healing kiss, he was never releasing it. He was so going to tickle it until you were a squirming, screaming mess. 

“I don’t think it is!” Namjoon carried on. “Give me your foot!”

You scrambled off of his lap, rolling onto the living room floor as a bridge to your escape. “Nohohoho!”

“Yes!” He shouted, leaping off of the couch to chase you. You darted around the coffee table, cackling as if he already had his hands all over you again. 

“Joon—it’s too late for this!” You shrieked as he bounded around the coffee table towards you. It wasn’t too late at all. It was never too late for tickles. Instinctively, you always said something that refuted how much you loved being tickled. You could never fully admit how much you truly enjoyed it other than in deep conversations; they occurred from time to time when you and Namjoon discussed it in order to understand that side of you better. But, Namjoon knew you. He always understood the difference between you begging him to stop because you genuinely needed him to, and pleas that were being expressed simply to combat the anticipation of his tickles. 

Right now, Namjoon knew your excuse for him not to continue his hunt for your foot wasn’t an actual concern of yours. He knew you didn’t mind the chase. This was all you needed to fix a bad day—Namjoon, his cuddles and reassurances, and of course, endless teases and tickles.