Hi guys, im finally coming out of my cave and i think im gonna start writing again for tickletober since this will be the first time I have no exams then(and it’s my holiday too.)
I’ll be using @itzsana-kiddingmenow ‘s tickletober list for my prompts. If you guys have any requests for the pairings for any day just put it in my inbox
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.
this fic contains tickling!! if not your thing, keep scrolling darling <3
The sand was black.
That was the first thing Minho noticed as he killed the ship's engine, the sudden silence ringing louder than the roar of the motor had been. The shoreline stretched before them like spilled ink, volcanic grains glittering with flecks of something silver.
Mica, maybe, or crushed shell. It caught the grey light and threw it back like scattered stars. No footprints. No driftwood. No evidence that any living thing had ever touched this place.
The crew didn't notice. They never did, not at first.
The grey sunlight filtered through the clouds, casting a soft, muted glow over the beach as the waves lapped gently at the shore. The boys' laughter echoed across the sand, a chaotic symphony of joy that seemed to fill the entire oasis.
Changbin lay half-buried, his arms stretched out lazily, his head tilted back with a grin so wide it crinkled his eyes.
"You're brooding," Chan said when Minho finally stepped onto the beach.
"I'm observing."
"You're brooding with your eyebrows."
Minho's mouth twitched. He opened his mouth to retort, but Chan's hand found his first. Palm warm against the chill of Minho's fingers, grounding him in a way that made his chest ache faintly. Chan didn't ask. He never did. He just held on, and Minho let himself be held.
Jeongin ran up to him and presses a seashell into his palm. Minho exhaled, and the tension he hadn't realized he'd been carrying bled out of him like tidewater. He observes the shell for a few fleeting seconds before tugging the youngest closer to plant a kiss to the top of his head. "Thank you, Innie."
Jeongin beams and runs off, back to the others, back to playing.
Behind them, the others had begun their ritual. Changbin lay supine, eyes closed, arms spread like a martyr, while Felix and Seungmin knelt on either side of him, scooping black sand over his torso with exaggerated reverence.
The sand rose. Changbin's chest disappeared, then his stomach, then his arms up to the elbows. Only his neck, face, and ears remained exposed, his grin cutting through the darkness of the grains like a crescent moon. He looked ridiculous. He looked perfectly, utterly content.
He looked like the sun peeking out behind the moon during an eclipse, a beam of happiness cutting through even the darkness of the sand.
Chan leaned in, his shoulder brushing Minho's. "Cute," He murmured, nodding toward the scene.
Minho followed his gaze. Changbin had surrendered completely, his eyes closed now, a peaceful smile on his face as the boys piled more sand around his neck, their giggles softening into something almost reverent.
Felix patted the mound gently, like tucking a child into bed. Jisung placed a single seashell on Changbin's forehead. A ceremonial offering.
"Yeah," Minho said quietly, his voice rough around the edges. "Cute."
Jisung crouched near Changbin's feet, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "You know," He said, tapping a single finger against the arch of Changbin's left foot, "you're really not supposed to move."
Changbin jolted. A strangled noise escaped his throat.
"Jisung," he warned, his voice cracking. "Don't. Don't you—"
"Don't what?" Jisung's finger traced a lazy spiral on the sole. "I'm not doing anything. I'm just resting my hand here. Perfectly still. Like you're supposed to be."
"JIHISUNG!!" Changbin's whole body convulsed, the sand around him shuddering. Felix gasped dramatically and began patting the cracks back into place.
"You're moving," Felix scolded, his voice dripping with theatrical disappointment. "After all our hard work. Do you know how long it took to get that sand perfectly smooth?"
Hyunjin, the traitor, began scribbling at the spot behind Changbin's ear. A horrendously ticklish spot that sent zaps of ticklish sensation straight to Changbin's nervous system.
And then Jisung began scratching properly at the arch of Changbin's foot.
Changbin screamed. A high, helpless, utterly undignified sound that dissolved instantly into the most hysterical, breathless giggling any of them had ever heard.
His feet kicked uselessly, sending sprays of sand into Jisung's face, which only made Jisung retaliate by spidering both hands over both soles at once.
"NO NO NO NOHOHOHO!!" Changbin was shrieking now, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes, his entire body bucking against its sandy prison. "PLEASE!! PLEHEHEHEEHEASE I WOHOHONT MOVE!! JUST DONT DO THAHAHAHAT!!"
Felix was giggling so hard he'd collapsed onto his side, clutching his stomach. Jeongin had abandoned all pretense of fixing the sand and was just cackling openly, recording the whole disaster on his phone. Hyunjin's face was split in a gleeful grin, his fingers never stopping their relentless assault on Changbin's neck.
Minho watched from a few feet away, his hand still loosely linked with Chan's. His expression had gone from mild concern to poorly concealed fondness, the corners of his mouth twitching. Beside him, Chan was already laughing, quiet and warm, his shoulder shaking against Minho's.
"They're going to kill him," Minho observed.
"Nah," Chan said, his voice full of affection. "He's having the time of his life. Look at him."
Minho looked. Changbin's face was a masterpiece—squeezed eyes, wide grin, tears streaming, his entire being reduced to pure, unfiltered joy. He was laughing so hard his face was crimson. It was undeniably adorable.
"HEHEHEELP!! SOHOHOMEONE SAHAHAHAVE ME!!"
Jeongin, now up to Changbin's elbows in sand after his feet had been abandoned, leaned in close to Changbin's ear. "If you stop moving," he whispered innocently, "we'll stop."
Changbin went completely still—or at least, he tried to. Every muscle in his body was trembling with the effort of suppressing his giggles, his breath coming in hiccups. His wide, watery eyes darted between his tormentors.
"...Really?"
Jisung's grin was wolfish. "No."
He went for the soles again and Changbin howls in frustration before dissolving into giggles again. Hyunjin's long fingers tracing patterns nonstop on his neck.
"JIHIHISUNG YOU MEHEHENACE!! I HAHAHATE YOU!! Hyuhuhuhuhuhunjin pleheheease stop tohohouching my neheheck!!"
"No can do, wifey~" Hyunjin chuckles. "Your giggles are far too cute."
Changbin's breathing slowly evened out, though every few seconds a residual giggle would escape him, his shoulders shaking the sand mound slightly. His eyes were still wet, his cheeks still flushed, but the panic had drained out of him, replaced by a drowsy, contented haze.
"You okay?" Felix asked softly, his thumb brushing over Changbin's ankle.
Changbin hummed, a sound so relaxed it was practically a purr. "Mhm."
"Not gonna move?" Jisung teased, but his voice was gentle now, his fingers carding lightly through the hair at Changbin's temple.
"Tragic," Hyunjin agreed, reaching over to brush a stray grain from Changbin's cheek. "Truly tragic. We'll build a shrine."
"A memorial," Seungmin added. "With a plaque. 'Here lies Changbin, who was too ticklish to survive.'"
Changbin snorted, which turned into another soft giggle.
"Alright!!" Minho called out. "Let's return to the ship guys! Rinse Binnie off before getting in, I don't want sand all over my fucking deck."
All the other boys ran in to grab vessels to hold water in, bringing them back out to fill with water from the barrel tap.
Felix had two. Jisung was holding his bucket with both hands, already sloshing water over the sides in his eagerness.
"You ready, Bin?" Seungmin asked, his voice sweet as poison.
The first bucket hit him square in the chest, turning the dark sand into mud.
Felix was more merciful, aiming his buckets at Changbin's feet and legs, washing away the sand in smooth, clean streams.
Hyunjin circled around to his head, gently pouring water over his hair and neck, careful not to get it in his eyes.
Jeongin had somehow acquired a giant barrel and was hesitating, clearly debating whether to dump the entire thing at once.
"Yang Jeongin, don't you dare."
Jeongin glanced at Jisung, who nodded solemnly.
The barrel tipped.
Changbin's scream echoed across the cove as a literal wave of water crashed over him, dissolving the sand mound entirely, leaving him sprawled on the beach like a washed-up sea creature.
He gasped, coughed, and flopped onto his back, arms spread wide, utterly drenched and covered in wet sand streaks.
The crew burst into laughter—bright and loud and utterly delighted—as Changbin lay there, blinking up at the grey sky, his chest heaving.
"...I hate you all," He said weakly. "I hate you so much."
"You love us," Felix corrected, dropping his empty buckets to offer Changbin a hand.
Changbin stared at the offered hand. Then, with a groan that came from the depths of his soul, he took it, letting Felix haul him to his feet.
Meanwhile, Chan was watching the waves with his captain. The tides were coming in, the streaks of orange painting the skies reminding them that sunset was soon approaching.
"Ready?" Chan asked, nodding toward the ship.
Minho looked at the black beach one last time—at the scattered buckets, the crumbled sand crown, the footprints that had finally marked the shore.
Then he looked at his crew, already scrambling toward the gangplank, dripping and laughing and alive.
"Yeah," He said softly. "Let's go home."
lowkey wanted to give that evening beach nostalgia vibe....i hope i succeeded...
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!!
warnings: public tickling, Felix is sort of unable to move, feet tickles, embarrassment
author's note: hie hie guys !! this is my first fic so im sort of nervous to post it haha. a big thank you to @itzsana-kiddingmenow who encouraged me to post it!! love youuu 🫰🏻 I hope you enjoy this and any sort of feedback is appreciated ^_^
this is a tickle fic!! feel free to keep scrolling if it's not your thing!!
Felix is pretty sure this very needed vacation actually healed a part of him.
Technically, it wasn't a vacation. For the past couple of months, Stray Kids were working non-stop. It was a comeback season, which meant they got little to no breaks before and after the release of their albums. It is all just one big roller coaster, really. During the preparations for the new releases, Felix feels like that is the hardest part of the comeback season. Practicing, working to be better, recording, trying to be as perfect as possible – which meant they spent more than half of their day stuck in their company, practice rooms and recording booths. But then after the release of the album, all cameras were brightly flashing into their faces; performances, interviews, fan meetings, fan calls, and, oh God, the award shows made them sit on the edge of their chairs, waiting to see if their name would get called.
So, during the comeback season, they were on edge for almost the entire time
They released their newest production almost a month ago, and their schedules have been filled to the brim. Not to mention their side quests like promotions and modeling shoots. But, their work paid off, and while this trip to Australia still required work (a couple of interviews and filming for their YouTube content), it almost felt as if they were doing nothing at all.
Felix actually thinks it might be because Australia is his home, and visiting it after so much time of being restricted to it, it feels even sweeter when he does get back. The Kids were staying here for two weeks, and over the weekend, they were allowed to have a day off and enjoy their time there. And they got the best of it.
This Sunday, the kids were spending the entire day at the beach, along with Felix’s sisters, and Chan’s siblings. They got to the beach early, found a spot near the beach bar by the water and Felix is sure this was the best day in the last four months. During comeback seasons, the members actually don’t have a lot of time to hang out, due to all the work. And when they did hang out, they mostly did when filming because all of them took their little breaks as resting opportunities. So, yes, today was pretty special to Felix.
As said before, they got to the beach pretty early, and since then they have not rested once, and it was an utter mess (in a… pleasant way). They were in water for actually a really long time, with Hyunjin having a blast following them around and drowning them (until they all ganged up on him and suddenly it’s ‘bullying’), until Minho, who was on the beach with Seungmin and Olivia playing cards, called them to get out of the water and rest a little. They played footvolley, too, until Seungmin accidentally sent the soft, inflatable beach ball flying to Changbin’s face, which resulted into a long, exhausting, chase around the beach before he eventually got tackled into the hot sand and tickled. Seungmin was a little pouty out of the embarrassment of getting wrecked when there are a few other families on the beach, but the pout quickly got forced away when he received the ice cream from his hyung.
After a few rounds of cards, that Felix obviously won (totally not because of his cheating tactics…), Felix was back in the water, now resting and sunbathing on his ginormous duck floaty that they bought earlier that day. The others stayed back at the beach, while Minho and Hyunjin went to get more cases of beer.
He’s not completely sure how much time he spent in water, but as long as the water didn’t push him too far away from the beach, he was okay resting there, sunglasses protecting his eyes from the sun that was burning his freckled body. Every so often he would stretch further across the floaty so his hands and feet would dip into the water. Surprisingly, the position, with his torso and bottom falling through the hole of the floaty, actually felt pleasing for his usually aching back.
Oh, yeah, he definitely needed this break.
But, Felix’s peace didn’t last long. He isn’t sure what made his muscles spasm more – a sudden ticklish feeling going through his foot, or the fear when he suddenly felt something sliding down his foot. He’s pretty sure that even Minho and Hyunjin, who went to the store, could hear how loud his scream was. His foot kicked up in the air as he jumped at the sudden touch, and his heart felt like it would jump out of his chest.
It made him feel safer the moment those squeaky and recognizable giggles filled the air, but regardless of that, Felix’s body stayed stiff. “Hyung!” Felix scolded, a whine almost breaking out.
Chan – that sneaky wolf – finally appeared from behind the floaty, barely able to keep his head above the water as he laughed at Felix's reaction. “It's not funny,” Felix whined as he hid his red face behind his hands.
“I'm shahorry!” He giggled, one hand on the duck floatie as he held himself up, and the other reaching over to pry the younger hands away from his face. “You just looked too peaceful. I couldn't help myself.”
“You're so annoying.” Now, he's not sure what in his right mind made him splash Chan while he was already in such a vulnerable position, but he did. While Chan wasn't expecting it, Felix's hand dove under the water and dove right back out, sending a bunch of water splashing on Chan's face.
Now it was Felix’s turn to laugh. Felix giggled as Chan blinked away the water as he spat out the water that entered his mouth. Felix's laughter died down as Chan just stared at him blankly, before a very scary smirk appeared on his face.
“Oh, no.” Was all Felix muttered before Chan pulled the goggles back over his eyes and dove back into the water. “C-Chan? Wait, wait, wait! Chan?!” Okay, now, he was panicking.
Chan was always so caring and careful with all of his members, especially Felix – but when provoked? He was one scary ler. Even the thought made Felix's stomach do flips.
A few seconds passed before he felt ticklish shocks shoot through his ribs and to the rest of his body. Felix couldn't hold back the deep giggles caused by Chan's rough fingers digging between his ribs. The blond couldn't do much – he squirmed, kicked his legs out, tried to push the floatie through the water (which also didn't work because Chan's fingers between his ribs kept him in place), wriggled from side to side, but his position, being on a floatie in the middle of the ocean, made him almost completely immobile.
And that made it all much more flustering.
Even though it lasted about half a minute, Chan managed to squeeze the younger's ribs, squeeze them, knuckle in between the bones, and scratch at the spot where his ribs end and sides start. “CHAHAHN! CHAHN!” Felix laughed and called out helplessly. The tickling was just too much, and being so exposed made it much worse.
He was lucky Chan could stay under water for only so long, because eventually the tickling stopped, and Chan dove out. The leader dove back out, and as he was catching his breath, Felix (still giggling) tried to push himself and the floatie away, but he barely moved at all, considering tickling knocked his strength out.
Chan just laughed at the pathetic attempt. “Oh no you won't.” He pulled screaming Felix back, before reaching his hand over and digging his fingers into soft, freckled abs. Felix squealed once more, and his weak attempts of pushing and hitting failed again. Chan just laughed along because somehow, only one hand turned Felix into a squealing, laughing mess.
“Really, Lix? Just a couple of fingers is all it takes to make you lose it?” Chan cooed, pinching and prodding the soft skin.
“SHUHUT HAHUHUP!” Felix's laughter turned squeaky. He barely knew what to do with himself.
“If you weren't so cute, this would be pretty embarrassing considering others at the beach are seeing you get wrecked.” Oh, that just made it so much worse. For a moment, Felix finally remembered his place: in the ocean, by the beach where his sisters and members are, AND where many other families were as well. Though, Chan didn't allow him to focus on that as much because he sneaked his second hand under the water, and started scratching at his lower back, whilst his other hand started circling the blond’s belly button, and occasionally dipping his finger in as well.
Felix was losing it. “PLEHEHEASE! I HAHA CHAHAN'T THAHAKE IT!” Every time he would arch his back, he lean more into the hand on his stomach; and when he did the opposite, he'd lean into the hand on his back. None of his attempts to move away worked, he only looked like a fish on the shore, so eventually his body went limp. He laid there and just took it.
“Aigoo, my baby,” Chan cooed in mock sympathy. “Is this too much for you, Lix?” Felix nodded, holding onto Chan's bicep, but he stopped fighting him off. Chan cooed once again (making it so much worse for his Aussie twin) before finally slowing down and taking one of Felix's hands and softly kissing him.
However, just when Felix thought Chan was done, the older swam behind Felix, and slowly skittered his fingers all over Felix’s neck and jawline. “Chahannhihie!” Felix scrunched up, his giggles going high pitch.
“Aww, sunshine, I missed you giggles so much.” The fondness in Chan's chest grew, I mean, how could it not when Felix was laying here in front of him, reduced to a giggly mess. “We've been so busy lately, we didn't have the time to hang out. You missed this, too, hm?”
Felix couldn't help but nod. Yes, this was extremely embarrassing. Yes, the tickles were almost unbearable. Yes, the rest of the members and his sisters will NEVER let him hear the end of this, and are probably filming. But the group was so busy for such a long time now that he missed being able to just mess around with them.
Chan couldn't help but giggle at his band mate's cute reaction, and slowed down. He leaned on the floatie and brushed his fingers through Felix's wet hair, as the younger calmed down, letting out the extra giggles. “Are you okay? Did I go overboard?”
“Noho… it was kinda nihihce.” He shyly admitted. Chan couldn't help but awe loudly, leaning over and placing a big kiss to the younger's cheek. “Sthohop it, Channie.”
They stayed in silence for a few moments before Chan reached over and tweaked his side, earning a squeal. “We better get back.”
Felix saw the shit eating grin on Chan's face and just groaned, hiding his face once more. The others are gonna tease him so bad.
The air in the common room was thick with tension. And not the good kind of tension, where adrenaline buzzes under your skin, where you feel ready and charged up. No, this tension was different.
Chan, the leader, the unshakable pillar of their strange little alien family, was currently flat on his back on a wide, padded mat. His wrists and ankles were secured by magnetic cuffs that hummed faintly, pinning him spread-eagle and utterly helpless. Noticeably the same spot where Jeongin had his checkup weeks ago.
Traitors, he thought miserably. I built those cuffs.
His face was the color of a ripe strawberry, the blush crawling down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his loose t-shirt.
"You said it yourself, hyung," Jeongin said, settling his weight more firmly across Chan's hips. He was straddling him like it was the most natural thing in the galaxy, his knees bracketing Chan's ribs, his hands hovering in the air just above Chan's heaving chest. "Minho hyung's...torment triggered my powers. Maybe yours are just slow."
"Jeongin, that's nohot how it works." Chan gasped, already breathless and Jeongin hadn't even touched him yet. The anticipation was killing him. His whole body was taut as a wire, every nerve ending screaming, and he could feel the laughter already building in his throat like a trapped animal.
"Aww, look at him," Jisung cooed from somewhere to Chan's left, sprawled across a beanbag with his vines curling lazily against his fingers. His grin was enormous, gummy, and absolutely menacing. "He's already red and Innie hasn't even started."
"His ears are practically florescent," Hyunjin added from a plush armchair, long legs crossed elegantly, chin propped on his hand like he was watching the season finale of his favorite drama. His eyes were bright with barely contained glee. "This is going to be good."
“You’re a traitor, Seungmin.” Chan snarled. It had in fact, been the two maknaes ganging up on him to get him pinned to the table. The eldest would be lying if he were to say he wasn't just a little curious, though.
Jeongin tilted his head, all wide-eyed innocence. "But hyung, if your powers manifest, we need witnesses. For science."
"For science." Jisung repeated, deadpan, and then dissolved into snickers.
Chan had told himself it was fine. He'd told himself it was a logical experiment. He'd told himself he was the leader, the oldest, the one who had held this ragtag family together through asteroid fields and bounty hunters and at least three near-death experiences involving malfunctioning airlocks.
He could handle his baby brother wiggling his fingers.
But Jeongin lowered his hands.
At first, it was just the pads of his fingers—featherlight touches skating up the sides of Chan’s torso, tracing the valleys between each rib with excruciating slowness. Chan’s breath hitched. His stomach muscles fluttered involuntarily. He bit his lip, hard, determined to maintain some shred of dignity.
Jeongin's fingers landed on the lower slopes of Chan’s ribs, just above the waistband of his pants, and scribbled—short, quick, scratching motions that bounced from rib to rib. Chan jerked violently, a startled yelp punching out of him before he could stop it.
“NAHAHAHAHA—JEONGIN!!”
“Oh.” Jeongin said, delighted, “That’s a good sound.”
He didn’t let up. His fingers danced upward, tracing the ridges of Chan’s ribcage with merciless accuracy, dipping into the soft spaces between each bone.
Chan bucked beneath him, but the magnetic cuffs held firm, locking his wrists above his head and his ankles spread wide. All he could do was twist and writhe and laugh—loud, helpless, breathless laughter that filled the room and made Hyunjin clap his hands together in glee.
"Oh my god, he's dying." Minho laughed. "Look at his face!"
Chan’s face was, indeed, a masterpiece of embarrassment. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears already beading at the corners.
His mouth was stretched wide in a helpless grin, cheeks flaming, ears practically glowing red. He was squeaking—full-on, high-pitched, undignified squeaks between cackles, the kind of sound he’d never live down.
Changbin wheezed from the floor. “I’ve never seen him like this.”
“No one has.” Jisung agreed, clutching his pillow like a lifeline. “This is historic.”
Minho tilted his head, cat eyes gleaming. “His worst spot is the sides of his chest, by the way. Just under the armpits. If you want to be thorough.”
Jeongin's face lit up like a Christmas tree, looking away from his red faced, squirming victim towards his hyung. "Remind me to give you one of those weird cat hybrid treats later."
Minho beamed.
"NOHOHOHOHO DOHOHOHON'T—" Chan thrashed, really thrashed now, his whole body twisting in the cuffs. The magnetic bonds held him fast, but his torso was free, and he used every inch of that freedom to squirm and buck and try to dislodge the absolute menace sitting on his hips. "Jeongin, please, not there, not thehehehere—"
"The armpits, huh?" Jeongin repeated, and his fingers dug in deeper, nails now, light scratches that made Chan's nerves light up like a constellation. "You said that was your worst spot, right? A few months ago? During truth or dare? I can't believe I haven't exploited it before."
"Jeongin," Chan said, his voice still raw and breathless, a thin thread of warning wrapped in leftover giggles. "Jeongin, don't. Don't you dare—"
But Jeongin was already moving.
Not slow. Not dramatic. Just casual. Infuriatingly casual.
He let his right hand drift up from Chan's stomach, dragging his fingertips lightly over the hem of his shirt, over the tense ridges of his abs, up toward his chest. His eyes never left Chan's face.
And that was the worst part. The eye contact. The smug, knowing little quirk of his lips. The way he watched Chan's expression crumple in real time.
Chan's breath hitched. His whole body tensed.
"No—" Chan whispered, already squirming, already trying to twist away even though the cuffs held him fast. "No, no, no, no, no—"
Jeongin paused, his hand hovering over the spot. Chan tenses so hard his abs ached.
And then the demon of a maknae pounces, raking his nails over the soft hollow, watching Chan absolutely howl and thrash like crazy.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He could only laugh, loud and helpless and absolutely shameless, thrashing against the cuffs like a fish on a line, while the youngest reduced him to a puddle of helpless, squealing, blushing mess.
"THAHAHAHAHAT'S NOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAIR—"
“Aww, hyung,” Jeongin cooed, digging his thumbs into the soft flesh and circling. Chan screamed with laughter, thrashing so hard the entire examination table rattled. The cuffs held fast. “You’re so sensitive. This has to be it. The power’s in there somewhere, just dying to get out.”
"I DONT FEEHEHEHEEL AHAHANYTHING EXCEHEHEPT DEHEHEHEATH!!"
"You're so dramatic." Jeongin laughed. As if Chan thrashing around on a table screaming under him was a daily occurence. "What if I add more hands?"
Chan gasped at that. "NOHO WAHAHAY!! YOUR POWERS AHAHARENT STROHOHONG ENOUGH FOHOR THAT!!"
Jeongin shrugged.
It started as a faint pressure against his stomach, like someone pressing a palm flat against his trembling abs. Then another pressure against his neck. Then his hips. Then the insides of his wrists—spots he didn’t even know were ticklish until that exact moment.
“What—” Chan gasped, but he didn’t get to finish.
The invisible touches moved.
They weren’t hands exactly—Jeongin had described them before as “blobs of sensation,” and that was disturbingly accurate.
They were warm, semi-solid masses that could shape themselves to any surface, and right now, they were shaping themselves into claws. Thin, pointed, nail-like protrusions that scritched and scratched and dragged across every inch of Chan’s exposed skin.
Chan absolutely shrieked. Jeongin’s real hands never stopped their own assault, now targeting Chan’s stomach with a relentless, squirming wiggle.
The invisible hands were the stars of the show, though. They were unpredictable. They moved in patterns no human hands could mimic, attacking from impossible angles, skittering up his sides one moment and then diving back into the hollow of his armpits the next.
Chan tried his hardest to form a coherent sentence. To order Jeongin to stop. Instead, what came out was: "FUHUHUHHUUHUCK—!!"
Jeongin tsked. "Language, hyung. Feel anything? Any powers trying to escape?"
Chan wailed. "NOHOHOHO!!"
Jeongin hummed and let up, poking his tongue in his cheek as Chan panted, gasping for air that never seemed to be enough. "I guess we've gotta try something else then."
Chan's stomach was tingling from Jeongin's swirling fingers, his neck and ears were melting from the invisible touches, and his whole body felt like it was floating in warm, ticklish honey.
"There he is," Jeongin murmured, and there was something reverent in his voice. "There's my hyung."
Jeongin's been tracing for ten minutes and Chan thinks his brain is gonna melt out of his ears.
Chan's giggles turned into full, bubbly laughter—not the desperate cackling from before, but something lighter, brighter, almost musical. His head fell back against the cot, baring his throat to the invisible blobs that were still tracing lazy patterns along his neck.
His eyes were squeezed shut, but tears were leaking from the corners anyway—not from distress, but from sheer, overwhelming sensation.
"Tickle tickle tickle, hyungie~" Jeongin sang under his breath, his fingers wiggling up and down Chan's sides in a steady, hypnotic rhythm.
Chan shook his head weakly, still laughing. "Nohohohoho!!"
"You like that, hyung? You like the tickles?"
Chan's brain was static. "Yehehehehehes!!"
The word came out before he could stop it. The room erupted.
Felix made a sound like a boiling teakettle. Hyunjin literally fell off his chaise lounge, clutching his chest like he'd been shot. Jisung buried his face in his hands and screamed. "SO CUTE OH MY GOD."
Jeongin's face split into the widest, most delighted grin Chan had ever seen. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes sparkling, and he looked for all the world like a child on Christmas morning who'd just received everything he'd ever wished for.
Jeongin's fingers started wiggling again, faster now, bouncing up and down Chan's sides in a flurry of light, teasing touches.
"Tickle tickle tickle for the hyungie who likes it~" Jeongin sang, his voice dripping with affectionate mocking. "Tickle tickle tickle for our sweet, shy leader who just wants gentle tickles on his tummy—"
"STAHAHAP!!" Chan shrieked, but he was grinning, laughing so hard his stomach ached, tears streaming down his temples. "STAHAHAP SAHAHAYING IT!!"
Jeongin laughed and eased up a bit. Chan's chest was heaving. He needed air.
"M' tired," Chan mumbled, voice hoarse and cracked from all the laughing. His head lolled to the side on the cot, curls plastered to his damp forehead. His chest was still heaving, but the movements had lost their frantic edge. "Can't do any more."
Jeongin pulled his hands back immediately, hovering. The invisible telekinetic blobs dissolved into nothing. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay, hyung. I've got you."
Chan blinked up at the ceiling, eyes glassy and unfocused. A few residual giggles bubbled up and died in his throat. His whole body felt like warm jelly—loose and heavy and done.
"Don't feel anything," he whispered. Not accusing. Just tired. Just empty. "Nothing's there. I guess I just… don't have powers."
Minho's expression flickered—something soft and almost sad passing over his features before he smoothed it away.
Jeongin didn't say anything. Not right away.
Instead, he reached down and pressed the release on Chan's wrist cuffs. The magnets disengaged with a soft click, and Chan's arms dropped limply to his sides. Then the ankles—another click, and his legs drew together slightly, knees bending in unconscious relief.
"You are everything." Jeongin said firmly. "You are not less for not having powers."
Chan melts. "Innie—" And he was being tugged into the maknae's arms. "Just shut up and let me hug you."
The oldest deflates, eyes going soft and fond. "Okay, baby."
"And this video is going in the group chat forever!!"
anyways this is the final part!! i'd like to thank everyone who has showed me support throughout writing this series and i'm so glad you enjoyed it!! i do hope i can get to the other members without so much delay :333
some honorable mentions to the people who have always been so supportive of me throughout this whole series: @sirloncelot-of-bananas @astrophile-annie @livelovestraykids @crystawaters97 @reginald-stay09 @minnielvrr @hetashi-takashimaya @asexualaerosmith + everyone who loved this series!!
Minho's world had narrowed to the dusty gap beneath the ottoman, his broad shoulders jammed awkwardly against the heavy wooden frame, arms pinned uselessly beneath his own chest.
His damn phone sat just out of reach, screen glowing mockingly with a half-finished game. He’d wiggled. He’d cursed. He’d even tried rolling his hips to gain leverage, but the ottoman was a solid beast and he was thoroughly, humiliatingly wedged.
God. Hopefully no one gets back until I get out of this.
Minho spent the next twenty minutes struggling to find a gap to escape. It would be all too easy if someone lifted the ottoman from above him, but that would mean someone would see him in this position and Minho wasn't all for that.
Then the front door clicked open.
Jeongin’s footsteps paused. A beat of silence. Then the unmistakable sound of the maknae’s bright, evil laughter bubbling up as he took in the sight: Lee Minho, dancer extraordinaire, global kpop star, face-down and trapped like a sad turtle.
“Hyung?!” Jeongin wheezed, dropping the bag without a care. “What are you doing under there?!”
“Shut up and help me, you brat,” Minho growled, voice muffled against the floor. He tried to kick his legs in warning, but they only flailed uselessly behind him.
Jeongin didn’t help.
Instead, the younger boy strolled closer, still giggling, and without any mercy at all, plopped his full weight down right on the backs of Minho’s thighs, effectively pinning his lower half.
“Jeongin—” Minho started, but the warning died in his throat as Jeongin’s hands immediately found his sides.
The first scribbling attack was light, almost playful, dancing over the fabric of Minho’s shirt. Minho twitched, biting back a sound. But then Jeongin pushed the hem of the shirt up with zero hesitation, cool air hitting warm skin, and the real attack began.
“Jeongin, don’t you dahahahare!!”
But Jeongin dared. Oh, he dared enthusiastically.
Bare fingers attacked without mercy—clawing, scratching, digging thumbs deep into the hollows of Minho’s sides. One hand spidered up toward his underarm (as far as the trapped position would allow), while the other raked down to the sensitive skin just above his waistband, teasing the line of his sweatpants.
Jeongin laughed, delighted. “Wow, you’re loud already. I’ve barely started!” His fingers danced faster, digging into the spaces between ribs, then skittering down to the sensitive dips just above Minho’s hips. “This is payback for all the times you tickled me during practice, you know.”
“FUHUHUHUCK!! I diihihidn't do it thihihihis bahahahahhad!!” Minho whined, forehead pressed to the carpet as laughter poured out of him. His whole body trembled under the assault. Jeongin’s nails were surprisingly sharp, scratching lightly in that way that drove Minho absolutely insane.
"NO!! NOHOHOHHOHO!! NOT THAHAHAHHAAHHAHAT!!"
“You’re so red, hyung,” Jeongin teased, voice sweet and innocent even as his hands destroyed the older dancer. “Cute. Does it tickle that much? Right here?” He dug in harder under Minho’s ribs, vibrating his fingers.
“YES IT TIHIHICKLES, YOU FUHUHUHUCKER!! STAHAHAHAP!” Minho’s voice cracked. Tears were already pricking at the corners of his eyes. He hated how sensitive he was there, hated that Jeongin had figured it out so quickly. The ottoman creaked as he bucked again, but he wasn’t going anywhere.
Jeongin shifted his weight a little higher, leaning forward so he could reach better. One hand slipped around to Minho’s stomach, nails lightly scratching in swirling patterns that made the muscles jump and twitch uncontrollably. The other hand stayed focused on his sides, squeezing and digging in rhythmic pulses.
"Hmmm, should I call the others?? I'm pretty sure Channie hyung and Seungminnie hyung would love to see this~"
“NO! Don’t you dahahahare call anyone! I’ll kihihihill you after thihihis— AAAHAHAHAHA!”
Jeongin’s eyes sparkled with pure, wicked delight as he sat comfortably on the backs of Minho’s thighs, looking down at his helplessly trapped hyung. Minho was still panting from the previous round, chest heaving against the carpet, arms numb under his own weight beneath the heavy ottoman.
“I can literally make you do whatever I want right now,” Jeongin said, voice sweet and dangerous. He drummed his fingers lightly over Minho’s exposed sides, feeling the muscles already twitching in anticipation. "Hmmm, what should i ask for?"
Minho thrashed under him. "NOTHING!! Lehehet me go youhu brahat!!"
"I want you to call me hyung."
Minho barks out a laugh, this time not from the tickling. "In youhur dreheams. I'll never do it."
Jeongin shrugged. "Your loss." He dug both thumbs into the dips just above Minho’s hips while his fingers continued their spidering dance across the ribs.
Minho squealed. The older dancer bucked wildly underneath him, legs kicking uselessly against the floor, hips twisting as much as the pinned position allowed. But there was nowhere to go. The ottoman held him fast, and Jeongin’s weight kept his lower body helpless.
“YOU’RE SO MEHEHEHEAN!!” Minho wailed, voice cracking as uncontrollable laughter poured out of him. His head thrashed side to side, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
He was starting to get dizzy. The constant, merciless tickling on his bare sides and ribs made his vision blur with tears of laughter. Every breath he tried to take was stolen by another wave of giggles.
Jeongin leaned down closer, chin almost resting on Minho’s back as he whispered, “Just say it. Call me hyung and I’ll stop. Or should I go lower?” His hands slid teasingly toward Minho’s waistband, fingers hovering dangerously close to the hypersensitive skin just above it.
“NOHOHO!! NOT THEHEHEHERE!!” Minho shrieked, trying to suck his stomach in. But Jeongin only laughed and returned to his ribs, this time using all ten fingers to scribble and claw rapidly up and down both sides at once.
Jeongin slowed. "Go on. "Please hyung, don't tickle me""
Minho clamped his lips shut and shook his head. But two jabs and rapid scratching at his sides again forced the words through his lips.
"PLEHEHEHEASE HYUHUHUNG," Minho wailed in embarrassment. "DOHOHON'T TIHIHICKLE MEHEHE!!"
Jeongin finally lifted his hands completely, patting Minho’s trembling back gently. “Okay, okay~ You did so well. I’m proud of you, hyung.” His voice was dripping with fake sweetness, clearly still riding the high of his victory.
He climbed off Minho’s thighs at last and shoved the ottoman up high enough for the older dancer to finally pull his trapped arms free. Minho collapsed fully onto the carpet the moment he was loose, rolling onto his back and curling up slightly. His chest heaved, face flushed deep crimson, hair a complete mess, and tears still clinging to his lashes as he tried to catch his breath.
The dorm was quiet when Minho finally pushed the door open, but the silence felt heavier than any noise.
His body ached with every step, the sting of the stage fall still sharp in his knee, the echo of the staff’s yelling ringing in his ears like a feedback loop.
His throat was raw from forcing words out during the schedule, and the headache had only worsened into a dull, relentless throb behind his eyes.
All he wanted was his bed. All he wanted was to collapse into it and let his brain melt out of his ears.
But the moment he kicked off his shoes, two figures appeared from the living room.
“Minho-hyung?” Felix’s voice was soft, worried, freckled face creased with concern. “We heard what happened today. Are you okay? You look really pale.”
Hyunjin stepped closer, reaching out gently. “Come sit for a second. We made some tea, and I can get the cooling patch for your head. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but—”
Minho lightly tried to protest. “But, I just want to sleep, guys. Let’s talk tomorrow?” He tried.
“Okay, but first—”
Minho’s patience snapped like brittle wire.
“I don’t need anything.” He snarled, voice low and cutting, sharper than he’d ever meant it to be with them, his babies, his everything. “Just leave me the fuck alone. Both of you.”
Felix flinched, eyes widening. Hyunjin’s hand froze mid-air, his expression crumbling into hurt.
“Hyung, we’re just trying to—”
“I said leave me alone!” Minho’s voice cracked with exhaustion and frustration. “I’m not a damn child. I don’t need babysitting. Just stay out of my face.”
He didn’t wait for their replies. He shoved past them, shoulders rigid, ignoring the way Felix’s soft “hyung…” followed him down the hallway like a bruise. He’d pushed it. Kept poking at it. For some reason, it felt satisfying even when it hurt.
The bedroom door slammed harder than necessary. Minho collapsed onto his bed face-first, the mattress creaking under him. His chest felt too tight, breaths shallow and angry.
Tears prickled hot at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill, but he refused to let them. He wouldn’t cry. Not over this. He didn’t deserve to cry when he was the one who did this.
He buried his head deeper into the pillow, muffling the world, the regret already starting to twist in his gut alongside the headache and the shame.
Just as the weight of the day pressed him further into the sheets, the door to his room opened with a quiet click.
Instead, the mattress dipped on both sides of him. Then more. The quiet shuffle of multiple bodies moving carefully, like they were approaching a wounded animal that might bolt. Before he could lift his head or protest, warm pairs of arms began wrapping around him.
All seven of them.
Seven pairs of arms. Seven bodies pressing in close, surrounding him completely in a messy, overlapping tangle of limbs and quiet breathing.
The bed groaned under the combined weight, but no one moved away. They simply held on. Tight enough to ground him, gentle enough not to smother.
Minho wanted to push them away. Tell them that he’d been horrible and they should just leave him to rot in his own misery.
But the words wouldn’t come. The fight had drained out of him the second their warmth started seeping through his clothes.
Two hot tears slipped free despite his best efforts.
They rolled slowly down his cheeks, soaking into the pillowcase in dark, silent patches. His voice came out small. “Jinnie, Lixie, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
It felt suffocating and safe at the same time. Like being buried and rescued in the same breath.
He didn’t deserve it. Not after how he’d spoken to them.
But they wouldn’t let go.
Minho’s hands finally unclenched from the pillow. One shaky hand reached out blindly until it found Chan’s arm, then another until it brushed Felix’s fingers. He held on weakly.
The tears had barely started to slow when the shift happened.
It began with Jisung.
The younger boy, still glued to Minho’s back, let his fingers drift lightly over Minho’s side. An innocent-looking brush at first.
But when Minho twitched and let out a shaky, involuntary huff against the pillow, Jisung’s whole demeanor changed. A mischievous spark lit in his eyes. “Hyungieeee~ Was that a giggle?”
Before Minho could even process the warning, multiple hands moved at once. “No-No wait—!”
His protest was cut off by a startled yelp as the attack began.
Chan and Changbin grabbed each of his wrists in one smooth motion, pulling his arms up and pinning them firmly above his head against the pillows, Minho being stomach down on the bed. Minho’s eyes flew open, still glassy from crying, widening in genuine surprise.
Hyunjin immediately went for the back ribs. Using his thumbs to slide into each gap between the bone. Minho felt his body jolt helplessly. Chan and Changbin each used their free hand to target that sensitive spot beneath the armpit.
Seungmin dragged his nails down Minho’s sides, letting out amused chuckles as Minho bucked up and down like a wild bull. Jeongin and Felix tag teamed him, using one hand to squeeze up and down the thighs while the other scribbled under the knee.
Minho’s a mess instantly. “AAAHAHAHAAA!! NO—NOHOHOHOHO TIHIHIHIHICKLING!!” The words dissolved instantly into bright, uncontrollable laughter.
His head snapped back against the pillow, throat exposed as peals of laughter burst out of him—loud, wheezing, the kind of laugh that made his whole face scrunch up and his eyes squeeze shut.
Minho flopped up and down like a fish out of water, red face scrunched up, teeth showing in a downright adorable grin. “FUHUHUHUCK—I CAHAHAHNT I CAAAANT!!”
Seven pairs of hands worked in chaotic harmony, finding every weak spot they’d memorized over years of living together. The tickles at his thighs and knees made his voice pitch up until it was practically a shriek; Minho will deny its existence till the day he died.
“NahahaHAHAHA!!!! OHMYGOSH STAHAHAHAHAP!!”
Changbin’s high pitched laugh rumbled through the pile. “Not until you’re properly wrecked, hyung. You yelled at our Felix and Hyunjin earlier. This is payback.”
Chan was smiling wide, eyes soft even as he kept Minho’s arms stretched taut. “And because we love you. And because you need this.”
“Are you feeling better, hyung?” Jeongin asks innocently.
“Nohohohoho!!” Minho choked out. “Youhu bahahastards are tihihIHIHICKLING MEHEHE!! ”
“He says he’s not feeling better!” Seungmin shouts. “Keep going!”
Minho wails at that. “OKAHAHAY OKAY OKAY! I FEEL BEHEHETTER!!”
“You sure?” Hyunjin enquires.
“YEHEHEHES!! Juhuhust stohohohop!! Plehehease! I neeheheed a nahap…”
The tickling finally slowed, then tapered off into gentle pokes and lingering traces of fingers as the laughter in the room gradually died down.
Chan and Changbin finally released his wrists. Minho’s arms flopped limply back down onto the bed, too exhausted to even pretend to push anyone away. The rest of the members slowly untangled themselves, but not completely. They stayed close, a warm, protective pile surrounding him.
Felix brushed a few sweaty strands of hair off Minho’s forehead, grinning. “But you feel better now, right, hyung?”
Minho hummed, the sound low and lazy. He didn’t even try to deny it. “Mmm…yeah.” His breathing evened out almost immediately afterwards, far too quickly for someone who had been so worked up just minutes ago. His smile lingered, small and peaceful, as his body finally surrendered to sleep.
The dorm fell into a peaceful quiet, filled only with the soft sounds of eight boys breathing together.
Hyunjin notices it by accident. At first, it’s just a small thing. Lee Know brushing past him in the practice room, sleeve riding up slightly…and there it was.
Faint, pale lines along his wrist. Not scars, not anything serious—just traces. Like someone had been holding him there. Recently.
Hyunjin tilts his head. “What’s this?”
Minho immediately tugs his sleeve down. Too fast. “Nothing.”
That’s the second thing Hyunjin notices.
Minho doesn’t hide things. He dares people to look. So the fact that he’s suddenly avoiding eye contact? Suspicious.
Minho scoffs, trying to move past him. “You’re dramatic.”
Hyunjin catches his wrist again—gentler this time, but deliberate. His thumb brushes over the faint marks, and Minho flinches.
Hyunjin’s eyes slowly light up. “Wait…”
Minho immediately pulls his hand back. “Drop it.”
“No, no, hold on—” Hyunjin grins now, something playful and dangerous sparking in his expression. “That’s not from grabbing.”
Minho turns away, busying himself with literally nothing. “You’re imagining things.”
Hyunjin circles him like he’s solving a mystery. “You hate being grabbed. You’d have complained.”
“I am complaining. You’re annoying.”
Hyunjin ignores that completely. “So if it’s not that…” He leans in slightly. “What made you react like that?”
Minho freezes a bit. Hyunjin’s grin stretches in glee. “Someone tickled you.”
Minho lets out a strangled noise. “Hwang, so help me, if you don’t want tissues in your diet—”
Hyunjin is delighted. “You—Lee Minho—got tickled hard enough to leave marks? So who was it? Channie hyung, Seungmin, maybe even Changbin hyung?”
Minho shoves him lightly. “Stop talking.” But it’s too late. Hyunjin is already moving. Fast.
Minho barely has time to react before Hyunjin grabs his wrist again—this time more firmly—and traces his fingers right over the same spot.
Minho jerks. Clamps his lips together. A sharp inhale—almost a yelp—slips out before he can stop it.
Hyunjin gasps in delight. “Oh my gosh, you’re kidding!”
Minho couldn’t take the tracing. Bubbly giggles burst from his lips, his other hand scrambling to wrench Hyunjin’s off. “Stohohop!! You bahahahastard!!”
Minho glares, but it’s already ruined by the way he’s biting back a squeak. “Hyunjin, don’t—” Hyunjin absolutely does.
His other hand joins in, fingers dancing lightly along Minho’s wrist, then just barely up his forearm—and Minho snorts.
Actually snorts, head ducking as laughter spills out in quick, startled bursts. “Nohohoho!!”
“Hyuhuhunjin!!” Minho’s voice cracks into helpless giggles, knees bending slightly as he tries to twist away. “I swehehear—!”
“You what?” Hyunjin teases, moving closer again. “You can’t even finish your own sentence.”
Minho glares at him through laughter, cheeks flushed, eyes squeezed shut for a second as another soft scribble hits the exact same spot.
“Youhuhu—!!” he chokes, free hand coming up to cover his face on instinct.
Hyunjin notices that immediately.
And gently catches that wrist too. Minho’s eyes snap open. “Hyunjin—”
“Nope,” Hyunjin says firmly. “No hiding.”
Minho opens his mouth to protest and immediately dissolves into giggles again when Hyunjin traces the same sensitive spots in slow, deliberate patterns.
“I cahahahan’t!!” Minho chokes out, face scrunched up cutely. Like a little overripe tomato.
Hyunjin smiles. And this time, when he lets go, it’s gentle.
The tables turn immediately. “Hyung,” Hyunji warns as he catches the mischief in Minho’s eyes.
Minho takes one step forward. Hyunjin takes one step back. Another step forward. Another step back.
Until Hyunjin’s back meets the mirrored wall with a soft tap. Oops.
“…Hyung,” Hyunjin says again, but it comes out weaker this time. “I was joking.”
“Mm.” Minho steps closer, slow enough that Hyunjin has time to regret every decision he’s made in life. “So was I.”
Minho catches one shielding wrist. Then the next. And Hyunjin was pinned to the practice room mirror.
Minho immediately traces along Hyunjin’s toned side, cooing as Hyunjin basically folds in seconds, giggling helplessly.
Tracing lightly over Hyunjin’s belly, circling, skimming, barely pressing—but always finding it.
Minho leans in slightly. “You started this.”
“I dihihidn’t!” Hyunjin squeaks, voice breaking when Minho drags a slow line right under his ribs. “That’s nohot fair!”
Minho hums. He had no intention of stopping anytime soon.
“What’s wrong, Jinnie?” He teased. “Can’t handle some tracing?”
“Thahats ironic!!” Hyunjin knows he’s digging his own grave. “Youhuhu were the ohone gihihiggling up a stohohorm earlier!!”
Minho raises his eyebrows. “Oh? Getting cocky now, are we?” He shifts to dig slightly into Hyunjin’s hips, watching with amusement as Hyunjin nearly buckled, the air filling with the sound of his sweet laughter.
It started as a harmless bet—some dumb game, too much confidence on Minho’s side, Changbin’s quiet, knowing smirk on the other. And then Minho lost. Not by much, which somehow made it worse.
“Alright,” Changbin clapped his hands once, satisfied. “You know the deal.”
Minho rolled his eyes, trying to play it cool even as he shifted back a step. “Yeah, yeah. Ten seconds, right? Don’t drag it out.”
Changbin tilted his head, considering him.
Minho squeezed his eyes shut, instinctively trying to curl in, but Changbin kept him from fully hiding. Just enough that he couldn’t escape the attention, couldn’t disappear from it.
It made everything worse.
Or better, depending on who you asked.
Minho’s words cut off in a sharp inhale as Changbin shifted them both down onto the couch, quick and controlled.
One second Minho was standing, the next he was half-sprawled, Changbin right there, bracing him in place.
It wasn’t rough—just solid. Inescapable in that calm, unfair way.
Minho tried to twist away again, but Changbin adjusted easily, one knee sliding between Minho’s legs to keep him from rolling off, one hand catching both of Minho’s wrists and guiding them up over his head in a single, annoyingly effortless motion.
“Yeah. Completely unnecessary. I’m not even—I’m not that—”
Changbin’s free hand dipped, fingers brushing lightly along Minho’s side.
Minho jerked.
“—tihihicklish,” He finished weakly, the word breaking apart the second it left his mouth.
“Oh really??”
“Yehes!! Thahat was just a fluhuke!!” Minho denied, though he was beginning to squirm quite a bit.
Minho’s words dissolved into giggles when the tickling moved up his ribs, lighter now, more deliberate, making him squirm even harder.
“Relax, it’s barely been a few seconds.”
Minho shook his head rapidly, biting his lip in a desperate attempt to muffle the laughter bubbling out of him. It didn’t work. Nothing worked.
Changbin didn’t care. He just wanted to hear his hyung laugh. He just shifted slightly and found that spot just above Minho’s hips.
“NOHOHOHO!!” Minho’s laughter spiked, louder, more frantic, his whole body jerking as he tried to twist away, completely undone now. “NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!”
“Say it again,” Changbin said, amused.
“I LOHOHOST! I LOHOST!!”
“That’s right.”
“PlehehEHEHEASEE!! I CAHAHANT!”
“You’re doing fine.”
“Ihihihim nohohohohohot—” Minho choked, laughter catching in his throat, his head shaking as if that would somehow make it stop. “I’m lihihiterally GOHOHOHONNA DIHIHIHIE!!”
Minho’s world narrowed to the sensation, to the laughter he couldn’t control, to the way every pause made his stomach flip because he knew it wasn’t over—
—And then he gets an idea. A terrible one.
Minho sucked in a shaky breath, trying to force words through the laughter.
“Dohoho—” he broke off, giggling helplessly. “Dohohoouble!!”
Changbin paused. Just barely. And Minho seized it.
“DOHOHOUBLE OR NOHOHOTHING!!” He blurted, the words tumbling out in a breathless rush, laughter still clinging to every syllable.
Changbin went very still.
“Double or nothing?” He repeated slowly.
Minho nodded quickly, still trembling with leftover giggles, chest heaving.
“Yehehes!! If I win ihim free!!”
“And if you lose?”
Minho hesitated. That was the problem, wasn’t it? But he was already in too deep.
“Then you can keep gohoing…” he said, the last part wobbling.
Changbin hums. “Alright.”
—
Changbin’s fingers curled around his, firm, steady.
“Three,” Minho started, determination sharpening his voice. “Two, one—”
They pushed.
And Minho’s arm dropped. Not even slowly. Not even a struggle. It just folded.
“Wait!!” Minho choked, eyes widening as his hand hit the table with a soft thud.
Minho barely had time to react before he was grabbed again, pulled forward with a surprised yelp as Changbin dragged him right back onto the couch. “So you lost. Double or nothing. So now you get double tickle time.”
Minho screamed—a startled, breathless sound that broke immediately into uncontrollable laughter as the tickling hit him all over again, worse this time, because he was already sensitive, already worn down.
“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.
yess ive made friends during orientation. I found a stay friend too so we started talking about skzcodes when some of the games we played were similar to what the kids played.
im studying biomedical science with analytics so workload is crazy but at least i like what im learning.
im so grateful that all me early classes are e-lectures so the earliest i need to be in school is 10am especially cos my school is an hour away from home😭😭
i technically haven’t started school yet but my to do list is already never ending. Im just excited to get my own lab coat next week
reginald’s blog @reginald-stay09 - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
