October's on it's way and it's time to start prepping those fanfics and artwork!
As always – this challenge is just for fun! There is no pressure to complete every prompt, just do what you want/what you can. Jump around the list, pick and choose, combine, and interpret the prompts however you like. Just enjoy yourself! Don’t burn out trying to do it all!!
I've continued with the daily and weekly formats for prompt lists this year. The groupings of prompt in the daily prompt list correlate directly with the extended prompts in the weekly prompt list. Both Week 1 and Week 5 are not full weeks based on how the calendar was set, but the rest constitute a full 7 days.
Whether you choose to use one of these lists or both, mix-and-match with another list, use another list entirely, or forgo all lists and make up your own ideas -- it's all up to you!!
As always, I’ll be eager to see all the works created with these prompts under the tag #augtickletober2025!
...huh? oh! hey there!! didnt see you there, creepin in the shadows, fangs glistening, hungry for the souls of the damned! hiiiii! this is another long tickle fic and its for the hit roblox game Pressure!! i hope you enjoy it!!
this is a fic requested by [REDACTED]!! thank you so much for the request!! <3333
this is for TKTober using the prompt list by @august-anon
Feeling the Pressure
Words: 4,072
Pairing: Lee!Reader, some Ler!Sebastian
Warnings: Intense tickles, some foot tickles- also you die!!! tw death
Prompt: Spell
The corridor ahead breathed with that faint, mechanical hum you only ever notice when you're moving too fast. To anyone else, it might have been a suffocating silence, the quiet before some anomaly lunged out of the dark. But to you, it was a rhythm, a pattern. Every drip of condensation from the pipework, every hiss of a pressure valve, even the distant groan of shifting metal, it was all familiar music to you. You've done this run enough times to know its ins and outs.
The Hadal Blacksite was not forgiving, not by a mile. However, if you listened carefully, it was predictable. Every time you died, you knew with grim certainty that it was your fault, and that next time, you would be more prepared than the last.
Your boots scraped across the grating as you swung into another side chamber. Door... 27, if your count was correct. A half-collapsed storage nook, fluorescent lights buzzing like overgrown gnats. Your eyes swept the corners automatically: no shadows crawling where they shouldn't and no misplaced breathing. Clear.
That is when you saw it, lying on a crate in the center of the room like someone had just set it down and walked away.
Not Kroner, and not a breacher either.
It looked like a toy at first, something you'd hand to a kid, except... wrong. A crystalline rod, maybe the length of your forearm, capped with a jagged bulb of translucent glass. Strange grooves spiraled down the shaft like veins, glowing faintly with a pale lavender pulse. Every few seconds, the light shivered, like it was laughing at you.
You frowned, stepping closer. Urbanshade's junk usually looked... clinical, industrial. This was downright whimsical.
Still, you'd learned long ago that ignoring anomalies meant leaving potential tools on the table. You reached out and touched it. Cold... then warm, like it was shifting temperature to unsettle you.
When you lifted it, the grooves glowed brighter.
"...Huh."
The thought came half out of your mouth before you realized it. The weight was nothing, feather-light, almost begging to be waved around. And so, like the reckless idiot every runner is sometimes, you did.
With a flick of your wrist, a burst of air puffed across the crate, scattering dust over the far side of the room. Your eyebrows shot up.
You tried again, this time at the nearby wall. A faint shimmer traced the concrete before fading.
You grinned. "Okay, that's new."
Curiosity always burns hotter than caution. You aimed at a discarded barrel in the corner and gave it a playful swish. The thing vibrated, rattling like someone had shaken it from the inside. You stifled a laugh. This was harmless, whatever it was. Harmless and... weirdly fun.
And then you made the mistake of aiming it at yourself.
A ghost of pressure, no, of fingers, skimmed your wrist. You jerked, biting back a startled laugh. It stopped as quickly as it started, like the wand was teasing you.
You shook your head, chuckling nervously. "A-Alright, that's... a little much."
You twirled it again, amused. Maybe it was like the Toy Remote, one of those anomalies that were more joke than threat. Look, if Urbanshade wanted to stockpile silly artifacts from a clown's reject bin, that was their problem. For you, right now, it meant you had something to play with during the in-between.
And play you did, all the way down the next hallway. You poked it at pipes and watched them hiss louder. You flicked it at the flickering lights and made them spark. At one point, you even swished it at a door, just to see if it would magically open. (It didn't.)
The problem was, while you were amusing yourself, you weren't listening.
The metal scream hit first, the sound of claws dragging down steel from somewhere behind. Then the rush, that telltale hiss of water flooding through pipes at impossible speed. Your stomach sank. Angler!
You darted forward, scanning for cover. The lights in the hall dipped, then blazed with sickly brightness.
The locker! Your eyes locked on the battered storage unit set against the wall. No time to think, just move!
You yanked the door open, slid inside, and pulled it shut. Darkness swallowed you whole, except for the faint pulse of lavender light from the wand still clenched in your hand.
Your breath came shallow. You pressed yourself against the back of the locker, forcing the air out of your lungs, listening.
The Angler thundred past. Its roar echoed down the corridor, rattling the metal skin of your hiding place. For a moment, you thought it might stop. Then, silence. It was gone.
Relief washed through you, but it was short-lived because that's when you heard it.
A wet slurp from behind.
You froze. The smell hit next, like iron and rot, clinging to the back of your throat. Then the sound again, a ripple, a shift.
You tilted your head down, every nerve screaming denial.
Black sheen glistened in the faint glow of the wand. A puddle of void-mass. In the locker. With you.
Your heart kicked into overdrive. The space was too small, too tight. Nowhere to run. You'd trapped yourself.
The puddle shifted, tendrils lifting lazily like smoke, curling toward you. It didn't need to rush, you were cornered prey. Your grip on the wand tightened until your knuckles ached.
The thing inched closer. Your mind scrambled for options. None. No way out, no plan.
Desperation whispered.
You raised the wand, aimed it shakily behind you at the mass. Your hand moved before your brain caught up, flicking the crystal tip in the slightest, most pitiful gesture of defiance.
Light flared.
The void-mass convulsed.
For a moment, you thought it was going to explode. Then you realized it was quivering. Like it had been shocked with a thousand tiny pinpricks. The tendrils jerked, squirmed. The puddle rippled violently, spasming against the locker walls. Were those... squeaks you heard?
It looked... like it was laughing.
You blinked, sweat dripping down your temples. "No way," you whispered.
The wand pulsed again, and the puddle recoiled hard, smashing itself against the far corner of the locker to get away from the unseen phantom fingers tormenting it. You almost laughed yourself, half in hysteria and half in disbelief.
"Y-yeah," you breathed, voice shaking but edged with a grin. "And stay back!"
Slowly, cautiously, you reached for the locker handle. Your pulse still thundered in your ears.
You eased the door open and stepped out into the hall, never breaking eye contact with the puddle still writhing inside.
The moment you were clear, the puddle shot a tendril forward and slammed the locker door shut behind you with a metallic clang.
You didn't look back. You just gripped the wand tighter and started walking.
The door slid shut behind you with its heavy pneumatic hiss, and the first thing you did was collapse against the wall. Your lungs burned, your legs ached, and sweat slicked down the back of your neck.
Safe room at last.
The dim amber glow of the ceiling lights buzzed faintly overhead, the closest thing to comfort this place ever offered. The air was dry here, scrubbed clean of the chemical stench and saltwater tang that clung to the rest of the facility. Your whole body sagged in relief. You'd made it.
You looked down at the wand still clutched in your hand. Its grooves pulsed softly, almost smug.
You laughed weakly, the sound pressing against the sterile walls. "What... even are you?"
A void-puddle tickled into submission. The thought still made you shake your head in disbelief. You could already hear Sebastian's dry commentary in your head: "Ohh, yes, we catalogued that anomaly months ago. Harmless, unless you happen to be particularly sensitive."
Sensitive! The memory of that fleeting brush across your wrist earlier flickered through you, and you found yourself staring at the crystalline tip a little too long.
Curiosity gnawed at you again. You were safe. You had time. And no one was watching.
You sat down on the metal bench, holding the wand with a shaking hand. Slowly, carefully, you aimed it at your opposite forearm.
The glow brightened.
A feather-light stroke traced along the fine hairs of your skin. You flinched, breath catching in your throat. A high, startled laugh bubbled out of you before you could bite it back.
It stopped the second you lowered the wand.
You blinked down at your arm. Nothing there. No mark, no sensation lingering. Just the echo of that laugh in the empty room.
"...Oh, no..." you murmured, heart racing.
Because you already knew what was going to happen next.
You raised it again, this time toward your side. The crystal hummed.
Phantom fingers darted against your ribs, quick and relentless. You yelped, twisting sideways on the bench, a helpless giggle tearing loose. The invisible touches spread upward, brushing against your underarm, then darting down your stomach.
"AhahHAHA! OkahAHAHY okAhahaAY-!" You gasped, lowering the wand instinctively.
The tickling vanished.
You doubled over, panting, cheeks burning hot. Your whole body trembled with adrenaline.
It was real. Not just some silly parlor trick, not just a breeze or vibration. Actual tickling, impossible, entirely invisible, but... undeniable.
And worse... it responded to you.
You swallowed, staring at the thing. Any sane runner would have shoved it in their pack, locked it away until the fishy shopkeep could dissect it. But sanity had fled the moment you'd seen that void-puddle slam the door shut behind you, that monster which had ended so many previous runs for you, now scared of that wand's abilities.
You had to know.
You aimed again, this time at your stomach.
The wand pusled. A dozen phantom fingertips skittered across your belly at once. You shrieked, doubling over, arms wrapping tight as though that could shield you. The harder you tensed, the more insistent the invisible touches became, scribbling patterns that stole the breath from your lungs. It was trying to show you exactly how helpless you were.
"St-StOHoHoHOhOhOP!! OhOhOMyHyHYGohOhOD, StoHoHoHOP!!" Your voice cracked between helpless laughter.
And when you flicked the wand sideways in your struggle, the effect changed.
Phantom feathers now. Silky-soft, draaaagging across your neck, down the insides of your arms. You collapsed onto your side of the bench, kicking helplessly, laughter spilling without control.
Each motion with the wand shifted the sensation. A jab forward sent blunt pokes down your sides, staccato bursts that made you squeal. A twist of the wrist summoned ghostly invisible hands to squeeze at your waist, fingers dancing mercilessly.
It was like the wand was reading you, learning just where to press the hardest. Every flick unlocked a new tickly torment.
Your giggles bounced off the walls, echoing back at you like a chorus. You tried to smother them against your sleeve, but it didn't matter. No one could hear you here but yourself.
"Y-YouhUHUHu're NoHohOt RehHehhEal," you wheezed at the phantom fingers scribbling across your ribs, trying to will them out of existence. "Y-youHuHuhu're- juHuHuhUst- hEhehEHheE!! aAN OhOhOhObject-!!"
The wand pulsed brighter, as though amused.
The invisible touch slid down to your knees, spidering behind them until you kicked out violently, nearly dropping the wand. Your laughter broke into gasps, then shrieks, until you jammed the tip against the floor in desperation.
Everything stopped.
The silence that followed was deafening. Your chest heaved. Your arms wrapped protectively around your middle as if to shield yourself from something still there. Tears stung in your eyes from laughing too hard. Had you ever laughed this hard before?
You sat there for a long moment, shaking, before daring to pick the wand back up.
It flowed faintly again, innocently, like it hadn't just wrung you out like a rag doll.
Your lips curled into a dazed, breathless smile. "Y-youhuhu're dahangerous."
The wand pulsed as you set it down, but your mistake was when you pointed it towards you without thinking. The wand pulsed again, brighter than before, as if it had only been toying with you up until now. Before, it was just testing your sensitivity. You barely had time to register that thought before it hit you.
Phantom hands multiplied.
They came from everywhere at once! Curling under your arms, scribbling down your sides, kneading the backs of your knees until your legs kicked violently against the bench. Another set latched onto your feet, phantom fingers digging mercilessly at your arches and toes.
The laugh that ripped out of you didn't even sound human. It was raw, breathless, bursting out of you in helpless waves.
"AhahAHA!! NoHoHO!! NOhohOnoNOnOnOHOhO!!!" Your pleas dissolved into shrieking laughter. You twisted, rolled off the bench, hit the floor hard, and still couldn't escape the invisible touches.
Everywhere at once!
Ribs squeezed. Toes wiggled uncontrollably as phantom nails traced circles. Your stomach quivered beneath dozens of unseen fingertips. Each new wave layered over the last until your mind fuzzed with static, nothing but laughter and panic.
You couldn't even catch your breath. Tears blurred your vision, stinging hot as they spilled down your cheeks.
You tried grabbing the wand, tried to force it still, but every movement just triggered something new. A jab sent buzzing pokes at your sides. A twist unleashed a storm of feathers under your chin. When you dropped it for a moment in desperation, it only hummed brighter, punishing you with phantom hands clamping at your hips.
You couldn't think, couldn't process. It was like a curse, dragging you deeper into its rhythm. Your body convulsed, rolling on the sterile floor, half-sobbing between shrieks of laughter.
"HAhahAHHAHAHH-!! StHahHAHA- StHahaHAHAP!! PleHEhEHEHEASE!!!" Your voice was shredded, laughter breaking into hiccups.
It didn't listen.
You clawed at the ground, trying to crawl away, but your legs buckled as ghostly fingers dug into the backs of your knees again. Your arms flailed, catching nothing but air. Each desperate motion only seemed to please the wand more!
The intensity peaked, phantom touches everywhere, impossible to defend, your mind splintering into pure sensation. For one horrifying moment, you wondered if it would just keep going until you passed out entirely.
And then... silence.
The air stilled. Your body collapsed, boneless, onto the cool floor.
You lay there, gasping, chest heaving like you'd sprinted a mile at full tilt. Sweat plastered your hair to your forehead. Your uniform clung damp to your back. Every muscle trembled, weak from laughing too hard, too long.
The wand rested beside you, humming faintly, innocent as a lullaby.
You wiped your eyes with a shaking sleeve, giggles still bubbling out uncontrollably in aftershocks. Your ribs ached. Your throat was raw.
"... O-okahahay," you croaked, voice rough. "N-nehever... nehehever again."
Your hand twitched, reaching for the wand, then hesitated.
"M-mahaybe... maybe again lahater..."
The glow pulsed once, as if agreeing.
Getting back on your feet took longer than you wanted to admit. Your legs shook like you were balancing on a tightrope, each step unsteady. You shoved the wand into your belt, still wary of what it might do if you held it too long.
You staggered toward the door. Safe room time was over.
The hallway outside felt colder than usual. Your ears rang faintly, whether from leftover laughter or the facility's hum, you couldn't tell. You forced yourself forward, trying to shake the fog out of your head.
Moving into the next room, you heard it: mechanical whirring, servos clicking.
Searchlights.
Your stomach dropped.
Its massive body floated far above you, gleaming eyes scanning, its harpoons bristling with anticipation. Typically, you would've timed its patrol path, ducked between its blind spots, or maybe tossed an item to distract. Easy.
But your limbs weren't listening. Your knees still wobbled. Your head still spun. Every nerve was fried, twitching with phantom echoes of tickling that weren't even there anymore.
You moved too slowly.
The creature spun toward you, screeching with static. A beam of light shot out, line-of-sight locking onto you instantly. Your heart lurched.
"W-wait, no, I-!"
Too late.
The harpoons lashed forward. Pain exploded through your chest as the world fractured into black.
There was the liminal nothingness between runs, a void, and then, of course...
...Sebastian.
The lamp burned between you, outlining his sharp features in mocking glow. His arms folded across the counter as he leaned in, smirk already tugging at his mouth.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice like sandpaper dipped in oil. "Back again, and so soon. Didn't make it too far, did we~?"
You winced, heat flooding your cheeks. You couldn't meet Sebastian's eyes. "Got distracted," you muttered.
"Distracted?" His tone wrapped around the word like it was the funniest thing he'd heard all day. He slid the document for the Searchlights forward, flipping it open, but it didn't interest either of you now. "How tragic. Shall I hazard a guess at the cause?"
Your blush deepened. Your hand pressed against your belt, and you felt a little disappointed at not finding the wand there, that stupid, cursed wand.
He tapped the counter with a long, clawed finger, smile widening. "No need to confirm. I can see it written all over your face. Whatever you picked up, it seems it had more... influence over you than any other entity in the facility."
Your throat tightened. "It's not like that."
"Mmm." His eyes glinted, unconvinced, as his glowing bulb drifted overhead. "Of course not. You simply forgot how to run properly after spending some quality time in a safe room with some artifact designed for...? Survey says? Pleasure, defense?" He chuckled, low and cruel. "Perhaps something else~?"
You nearly choked on your own spit. "I-! It-! That's-!"
He raised a hand, silencing you with a lazy wave. "No matter. The point stands. It killed you as surely as any monster could have. A pity that you lost it, though. I would have liked to examine it myself."
You slumped, mortified, wishing the dark would swallow you whole.
Sebastian leaned closer, grin wicked. "Next time, try to survive long enough to bring it back to me, hm? I'd very much enjoy... experimenting."
You groaned, burying your face in your hands.
"Distracted," he repeated softly, savoring the word.
The shop lights flickered, mocking you, then went dark.
The next run began cleaner, sharper.
You pushed out of the starting room with your shoulders squared, jaw set. The echoes of the last death clung to you like static, but this time, you weren't letting yourself slip. No wandering thoughts. No stupid distractions.
Room after room, you moved with precision. Your steps were measured, weapons ready, eyes darting over every corner. Entities barely slowed you. You cleared puzzles in record time without backtracking. Your breathing was steady, calm, and collected.
It was almost perfect.
Redemption.
By the time you were crawling through the vent into the shop, you were buzzing with relief. Your pulse slowed and your grip loosened. Seeing Sebastian, lounging in his little room as though the world didn't exist outside his shop, it almost made you smile.
Then you saw it.
On the stand behind him, propped neatly as though it were a priceless artifact: the wand.
Your heart plummeted.
Of course it had come back here. Of course it hadn't vanished into nothingness like other anomalies sometimes did. Of course! No, it was here, gleaming faintly, mocking you with its soft little hum.
Sebastian followed your gaze and smirked. "Ah. I see you've noticed the new addition to my collection."
You swallowed, throat dry. "...Why do you have that?"
"Why wouldn't I?" He leaned back, gesturing to it like a curator unveiling his finest work. "Recovered artifacts always return here, eventually. This one was practically eager." His voice lowered, sly. "I imagine you know why that is."
Heat flared in your cheeks. "Y-you don't-"
"Oh, but I do!" He plucked the wand from the shelf, holding it delicately between his claws like a poisonous plant. "Its properties are fascinating. A semi-sentient anomaly, designed to pacify the monsters of the Hadal Blacksite nonviolently. It seems to respond to stress responses, such as laughter and panic, but especially resistance. Multiplying phantom stimuli until the subject is overwhelmed. Quite ingenious, really. I call it a Pacification Tool, a tickling generator."
The word landed like a slap to the face. Tickling.
Your stomach twisted. Sebastian had said it so casually! As if he were discussing a lock-picking set or a keycard.
Sebastian tilted his head, studying you. His grin sharpened. "Curious. Some runners can endure it with minimal trouble. Others, however..." His bright blue eyes flicked deliberately toward you. "...cannot handle its effects in the slightest."
You prayed that the floor would eat you alive.
"You d-don't-" you stammered, defensive, your voice pitching higher. "You don't know that's what happened."
"Don't I?" He leaned forward, wand resting lazily against his palm. "One moment, you're alive, you find this item, and bring it into the saferoom. Twenty minutes later, you stumble out of the saferoom dazed, breathless, and die to the Searchlights like a novice. And now, you can't even look at this wand without blushing. Tell me again how I'm incorrect?"
You groaned, dragging your hands down your face. "If you say one more word, I swear-"
"Swear what?" His smile widened, all teeth.
"T-The very next flash beacon I find-"
His face twitched. He tapped the wand against the counter, slow, taunting. "Fine, then. For a demonstration-"
You froze. "W-wait. Don't even think about it-!"
Too late.
He flicked his wrist.
The wand burst to life brighter than before. It recognized you, and it remembered every spot on your body. Phantom hands exploded around you, not just the fingers this time, but brushes, combs, little pokers of air scratching across every vulnerable inch. Your underarms were attacked at once, bristles dragging in dizzying circles. Your ribs jolted as invisible comb teeth jabbed rhythmically. Your feet lit up with flickering pokes, heels to toes, while brushes swept cruelly over your arches.
You shrieked, stumbling backward. "SebAHAHAHHSTIAHAHAN!! HAHAHAHAHAH NONONOOAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!"
Your body folded, laughter ripping out of you uncontrollably. It was sharper this time, more complex, as though the wand was proudly showing off all the new tricks it could do. You collapsed onto the floor, writhing, grabbing at empty air while phantom tools shredded every ounce of control you had left.
"HAHAHAHAH- P-PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!! STAHAHAHAHHAHAA-!! G-GOHOHOHOD, NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHREE!!!" Your words broke into squeals as something that felt like a feather duster fluttered against your neck.
"Interesting. It really, really likes you." Sebastian's laugh cut through, rich and amused. "It's incredible. I can practically feel how happy the wand is, getting to tickle you again. You must be more sensitive than I thought. Just look at you."
You kicked helplessly, tears streaming down your face, throat aching with laughter. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All you could see was the shopkeeper's silhouette above you, perfectly composed, amused like this was the best entertainment he'd had in months. To be honest, it probably was.
"Oh, I don't think you are." He twirled the wand in his fingers, and the phantom brushes redoubled on your stomach, circling your belly button mercilessly. "For that, you'd have to stand up first."
You convulsed, shrieking, laughter pouring out until your voice cracked.
Finally, finally, the pressure eased. The phantoms vanished, leaving you in a crumpled heap on the shop floor, wheezing and giggling uncontrollably. Your body tingled, trembling with aftershocks.
Sebastian slid the wand back onto the shelf as casually as one might set down a quill. "Effective, isn't it?"
You lay there, sprawled, sweat-drenched, cheeks blazing red. You wanted to be furious, to scream at the fish who had just tormented you. Instead, another laugh sputtered out of you, breathless and broken. "Ihihihi... hahahate youhuhu," you gasped between giggles.
He leaned down low, grin wicked. "You'll thank me later. Now, are you gonna buy anything?" He gestured toward his tail, full of items you'd need for the run.
You glared up at him, still too weak to stand. Then, you turned your gaze to the wand.
Sensing what you were about to demand, he cut you off before you could start. "It's not for sale. Consider it insurance."
You pointed a shaky finger up at him. "Y-youhuhu... are soho dead. Nehext run, Ihihi'm getting you bahack. Mahark myhy words."
Sebastian chuckled, straightening, utterly unbothered. "Uh-huh, right, looking forward to it."
Day 31 – SKZ
Prompt: tktober finale special
Lee! Minho Ler! Chan
Warnings: rough tickles
a/n: is it nice? i think i used their names too much tho
Tags: @tmnt-stayhead @itzsana-kiddingmenow @lezleeferguson-120 @sunlightstay @hansloveleeknow @hi-im-1niki1-minaj333mwah @jisung14444333 @minnielvrr @jeongins-diary @jeongin-lover08 @sirloncelot-of-bananas @princess-tears1 @zainozzzzzzz
This is a tickle fic. If you're not into this stuff pls scroll... <3
Minho was looking for old, dusty books for a school project about ancient words. He was tired from studying, but he still had to work.
He found a small, old leather notebook. It was filled with weird symbols and strange drawings. When he read the title on the front, he laughed: "Joke Spells for Fun."
He showed it to the man who owned the store. “What is this?” Lino asked.
The man smiled. “Oh, that? It’s just a joke book a student made many years ago. It’s harmless and silly. Just five dollars.”
He bought it because it was funny and cheap.
Later that night, back at their dorm, Bangchan came into the living room and saw him reading the strange book.
“What did you buy, Min ?” He asked, sitting down next to him.
Lee know held up the notebook. “A joke spellbook! Listen. This one says: ‘To feel better, touch your nose and say: Up, Down, Good Day!’”They both laughed. The spells sounded completely silly and fake.
Minho kept reading. He found a page with a strange drawing and a translation that said: “Laughter Spell: May the room fill with laughter.”
Minho thought the spell meant "make the room feel happy." It seemed like a nice, safe thing to say.
“Let’s try this one,” He said. He pointed the book at the ceiling and read the strange, made-up words slowly: "Risius, Corpus, Fuzzaria!"
Nothing happened. No sparkles. No happy music.
Chan started laughing. “Wow, that was a huge fail! The room is only filled with my laughter because you look so silly trying magic!”
Minho smiled. “Fine. Let’s go to sleep. The fake magic is over.”
They laughed about the silly book and went to bed, completely forgetting the words he had chanted.
The next morning, Lee Know woke up slowly. He stretched his arms and sighed.
Then, he heard a sound from Chan's bed. He was waking up, too. Chan yawned, then lazily wiggled his fingers in the air next to his face as he stretched his hand out.
Suddenly, a big, electric fuzz hit Minho's ribs on his right side. It felt exactly like someone had taken a feather duster and quickly brushed him hard.
Minho gave a huge, silent jump in his bed. He quickly slapped his own arm down over his side, squeezing his eyes shut to stop a shout.
What was that? He thought, his heart beating fast. Why did that feel like a tickle?
He tried to stay completely still.
Then, Bangchan, who was still half-asleep, looked at the ceiling and gave a quick, gentle double-tap with his index finger on the air above his head.
Instantly, Minho felt two sharp, quick pokes right on the side of his waist. It was so sharp and light, it sent a powerful, ticklish jolt through his whole body.
Minho bit his lip hard to stop a loud squeak of laughter. He pressed his face into his pillow, shaking quietly. I must be dreaming.
Minho looked over at Chan, who was now sitting up, totally unaware. Chan scratched his head with his hand, wiggling all five fingers deep into his hair.
Lee Know suddenly felt a chaotic, overwhelming scribbling sensation hit both his armpits at once. It was light, fast, and completely unbearable.
Minho lost the fight. A loud, desperate "Eeeep!" escaped into his pillow, followed by a huge, shaky fit of giggles that made his whole bed move. He pulled the blanket quickly up over his head.
Chan looked over. “Minho? What are you doing? Are you okay?”
Minho tried to sound normal, though his voice was shaking with suppressed giggles. “Y-Yeah! Just… stretching too hard! Go get breakfast!”
Channie got out of bed. He started walking toward the door, casually dragging his index finger through the air as he walked, making a line on the wall.
As the older dragged his finger, Lino felt a continuous, light, single line being drawn slowly right up the sole of his left foot. It was an agonizingly slow and soft tickle.
Minho’s foot instantly curled up hard, and his face twisted in a silent, desperate scream of laughter. He was trapped under the blanket, shaking uncontrollably as the invisible touch wrecked him.
The spell! Minho realized with absolute terror. The silly Laughter Spell! It made the air tickle me!
They were sitting at the table trying to eat lunch. Lino was sitting perfectly straight and still. The leader was talking about a new song, and he used his hands a lot. He suddenly poked the air hard to make a strong point about the song.
Minho was drinking water. The hard poke hit his left side. He gave a huge, uncontrollable shudder, and water sprayed out of his mouth onto the table.
Channie stared. “Minho! What is going on with you? That was the third time you’ve jumped!”
He frantically wiped the water. “It’s… a muscle spasm! A bad one! Don’t worry!”
Chan looked very suspicious. He slowly and deliberately wiggled his index finger in front of Minho's face, right at the chest level.
Minho instantly felt a fast, sharp tickle hit his side ribs. He choked on air, gasping loudly, shaking his head side to side.
Chan’s eyes grew wide with surprise and a huge, mischievous grin. He moved his hand back and forth, like drawing a gentle horizontal line in the air, right at Minho's tummy.
Min let out a loud, muffled, high-pitched scream of laughter. He grabbed his own stomach, his whole body shaking out of control.
“Lee Minho! It’s you!” Bangchan shouted, jumping up from his chair. “The spell worked! I can tickle you just by touching the air! This is amazing!”
Lino knew he had to run. He pushed his chair back and ran for the door.
Chan didn't chase him with his feet. He just stood there, laughing, and started waving both his hands wildly in the air, moving them up and down.
As Chan waved his hands, Minho felt an overwhelming, chaotic, ticklish attack hit his back, his sides, and his arms all at once. It felt like ten people were attacking him with feathers from every direction.
The younger didn't even make it three steps. The intense, body-wide tickle made his legs weak and his body turn into jelly. He tripped on the rug and crashed to the floor, collapsing into a giggling, shaking mess.
Chan slowly walked over and stood above Minho, watching him suffer. The lee was curled up, trying to protect his sides, but it didn't help—the tickles came from the air itself.
Chan didn't touch Minho, he sat down on the sofa, leaned back, and put his hands out. He started a long, careful, focused attack to completely wreck Minho's energy.
First, Channie focused on the Tummy. He used both hands and started a slow, wide, sweeping motion in the air right above Minho's exposed stomach.
His body convulsed continuously, jumping off the floor with every sweep of Chan's hand.
“WAAAAAH! NOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHHP IT!”
Chan kept the sweeping motion going for a very long time, watching Lino shake violently on the floor.
Next, Chan kept one hand sweeping slowly over Minho's Tummy, and with the other hand, he made a small, fast, sharp tapping motion in the air, focusing it right above the younger’s Armpits.
The dual attack—slow sweep on the Tummy and sharp taps on the Armpits—was complete chaos. Lee Know’s laughter broke into continuous, high-volume, choked gasp-squeaks and screams.
“GAAAAH! NOHOHOHO! T CAHAHHAHAAN'T I- I CAHAHAHNHOHOHOT DOHOOHH THISS! PLEAHEHAAA!”
Chan kept the air attack going until Min was weak and exhausted. He was a gasping, trembling mess, unable to move or speak anything but choked whimpers of laughter.
Minho slowly pushed himself up, resting his head on the sofa cushion. He was utterly defeated and trembling.
“Okay. Okay, stop. Stop, hyung. You have to break the spell. It’s too much. I can’t live like this,” Minho whispered, his voice weak.
They quickly went to the sofa and grabbed the old leather notebook. They flipped through the pages with shaking hands until he found the Laughter Spell again.
At the very bottom, in small writing, was a section titled: "To Stop the Spell."
Bangchan read it carefully: “The Risius spell—the laughter that takes over the body—can only be stopped when the ticklish power is completely pulled out. This must be done by finding the ticklee’s worst spot and tickling it with a real touch for thirty continuous seconds.”
Minho groaned, staring at the words. “Real touch? On the worst spot? Thirty seconds? That’s going to kill me.”
“Looks like it,” Channie said, trying hard not to smile. “So, where is the worst spot?”
Minho was too exhausted to lie. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Don't...You know it.”
Chan suddenly looked very serious. “Thirty seconds, Min. I have to keep the touch going for thirty seconds straight, across the thighs. No stopping, or it won’t work.”
Minho nodded, giving up on the fight. “Just do it fast. Get this spell off me.”
Chan quickly helped Lino flip over onto his back, pulling him into a secure sitting position on the sofa.
Chan took a deep breath. “Thirty seconds. Starting… NOW.”
He attacked the exposed whole thighs instantly. He used both hands to deliver a furious, non-stop, light tracing and high-speed scribbling motion all over the soft skin, moving from the top of the thigh down to the knee and back up.
The real, physical, light touch on Minho's entire absolute worst spot was agonizing.
He gave one final, raw, terrified scream that disappeared immediately into continuous, high-pitched, hysterical wails.
“WAAAAAH! NOHOHOHO! PLEAHHAHAHAHAH! NOHOHOHOHOH! IT'S TOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAHAHAHDDD! GET OOHOHOHOOHFF!”
Chan kept the scribbling going, his expression serious as he focused on keeping the light, fast touch consistent across the entire area.
10 seconds passed. Lino was shaking wildly, his legs kicking hard against Channie’s sides, tears of laughter streaming down his face. His voice was gone, replaced by desperate, choked gasps. He was fighting with every bit of strength he had left.
15 seconds passed. Chan had to adjust his pin, using his own legs to keep Minho's hips from twisting away. His entire body was arching off the sofa, powered only by the tickle frenzy.
"AHAHAHHAHAHA DAMMIT! NOOOOO WHHHYYY DID I DOOOHOHOHOHO THHIHIHIHIHS!!"
20 seconds passed. Minho’s body began to fail. His movements grew much weaker, and his hysterical gasps turned into soft, exhausted wheezes. The intense laughter had completely destroyed his energy.
25 seconds passed. His body went completely limp, his head falling back against his hyung’s shoulder. His final fight was over. He was completely silent, just trembling softly.
30 seconds. STOP.
Channie pulled his hands away instantly, rubbing Minho’s thighs gently.
He lay limp, his chest heaving, his entire body trembling from the physical exhaustion. The room felt... completely normal.
Chan slowly and deliberately wiggled his fingers in the air, right above Minho's face.
He didn't feel a single thing.
Chan giggled, poking the air right above his side. Still nothing.
“It’s gone! The spell is broken!” BangChan shouted happily.
Lino slowly sat up, resting his head on Chan’s shoulder. He was utterly defeated, limp, and trembling.
“Never again,” He whispered, his voice raw. “That was pure torture. I am so tired now.”
Chan helped him stand up, leading him toward his room. “No more silly joke books for you. We’ve had enough laughter.”
Lee Know sighed. “Agreed.”
He fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow, finally defeated by the combination of an ancient, mischievous spell and the absolute tickle agony required to break it.
A/N: So I decided to do tickletober this year!!! Anyway since I'm super busy at the moment some will be more full length fics and some will be more like drabbles, since inspiration is a fickle thing. Anyway, this one is more of a drabble, lol. Happy spooky month!!!!!
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader
Summary: Pretty much exactly what it says on the tin- Matt being a dick and absolutely abusing the concept of anticipation because he so would.
Warnings/Rating: Could not be more wholesome if you tried. Maybe the inherent manipulation of anticipation???? idk man it's pretty tame.
Word-Count: 490
"I'm not even-"
"If you say you're not doing anything one more goddamn time Matt I'll kill you."
This has been going on for days.
Matt - sweet, clueless Matt - had gotten a bit too adventurous with his hands about a week ago when you were engaging in your standard sickening amount of PDA, touch just a little too light and a little too fast. And you'd flinched, because of course you had, and he'd given you that puppydog-tilted-head look that anyone else might find sweet but you knew meant he'd taken note of the reaction and would be making you regret it later.
Only, later never came.
Sure, there had been small things here and there - the hand on your waist when he needed to get by you being suspiciously teasing, the kisses he pressed to your neck getting lighter and lighter, the casual pokes when you had to stand on your toes to reach something he'd yet again decided to hide on the highest possible shelf. But nothing beyond that. No evidence he knew what he was doing aside from the amused grin on his face and the fact that he'd never done any of that before.
And god help you, it was driving you insane.
"Really, honey. I'm not sure what you're talking about," he tries again, voice placating and confused. But the look in his eyes, you'd know that smug amusement anywhere.
And, okay, maybe you're beginning to crack a little.
"Listen, I- if you're going to do something, just do it already!" You're ranting at this point and you know it, equal parts nervous and infuriated (and, okay, maybe a little amused) in the way only he could make you. "I'm pretty sure this is like, psychological torture or- or gaslighting, or something! Not to mention you-"
The words stop coming only when the world tilts on its axis all of a sudden, the ceiling taking over your vision as your weight works against you, one light but intentionally placed little push to your shoulder, a foot behind your ankle, and you're laid out flat on your back on the couch.
You don't have time to process before Matt follows you down.
"Psychological torture? That would never hold up in court, y'know."
His fingers are digging into your sides gently, and it's all so sudden you almost forget to laugh. Almost.
But you don't forget to laugh. Instead, some high pitched sound between a squeak and a scream is all you can manage before your words are crumbling to giggles.
"MATTHEW!"
You use the last of your breath to put as much venom and accusation in his name as possible, like it's a curse. He seems a little too entertained to care.
"What? You gave me permission and everything!"
"Ihihi did nohohot-!"
"I believe your words were, "if you're going to do something, just do it already"." He condescends, and only digs his fingers in harder.
Since it’s getting close to October, ive been starting my plan for Tickletober! I’d like some suggestions from the prompt list made by @//august-anon by picking a prompt w/ a character (or combo of characters) from the following fandoms I’ll be doing:
Sonic the Hedgehog (not knowledgeable w/ the recent films though :( )
August's Weekly TickleTober 2025
A character is dared not to laugh in a game of teasing and anticipation (where touching isn’t allowed). If they lose, they get tickled.
Series: Baldur's Gate 3
Characters: Astarion, Halsin
Summary: Halsin challenges Astarion to a game of teasing, daring him not to laugh. If Astarion laughs, he gets tickled. But if Halsin can't get the rogue to crack, then he gets tickled.
Word Count: 1,377
A/N: My first ever TickleTober fic is a teasing game 😭, how terrifying and therefore very fitting for the season 🎃. As much as I love Astarion as a ler, I like to think he's a very verbal tease-sensitive lee~ Hehe. Anyway, thank you everyone for reading and I hope you enjoy it!
“Evening, Halsin. Is there something I can help you with?” Astarion asked, lounging on a cushion outside of his tent when the druid approached.
“Perhaps.” Halsin sat down on Astarion's carpet. “Tell me, what did Tav do this time to deserve your torment?”
“Are you serious?” Astarion scoffed, “do I need a reason? They enjoy it.” There was a flicker of amusement in the rogue’s eyes as he recalled ruthlessly tickling Tav into submission earlier that evening.
“True,” Halsin agreed. Tav’s peculiar preference of bonding activity was no secret to the camp. “But must you be so rough with them?” He gestured to the other side of the camp, where a giggling Tav was still lying on the grass, surrounded by their other companions.
Astarion gasped, “rough? Hardly! Darling, I’m nothing if not gentle. Otherwise it wouldn’t tickle.”
Halsin furrowed his brow. “Hm.”
Astarion sighed. "Why do you care all of a sudden? It’s not as if you haven’t tickled them before.”
“I’m only looking out for their well-being.” Halsin answered. “And wondering if your actions are a sign that you need of a taste of your own medicine.”
Astarion waved a hand. “Oh, they’re fine! They’ve dealt with far worse than me, I can assure—“ He stopped, catching up with the druid’s words. “Pardon, what was that?”
Halsin straightened, answering Astarion with a widening grin.
“Oh no. No, no, no!” Astarion sat up immediately. “Don’t you dare even think about touching me!”
“I’d wager I don’t need to touch you to make you laugh.”
“Oh! A comedian now, are we? Don’t tell me you’re training to be part of the Circle of Giggles.”
Halsin laughed at that. “I do know a few good jokes. But I’m not here to make you roll your eyes out of your head.” Then he leaned forward and placed his hands together. “I have something different in mind, a… game, of sorts. ”
Though still wary, Astarion relaxed against his cushion again, his curiosity piqued. “Alright. I’m intrigued. What do you have in mind?”
“I will attempt to make you laugh without touching you, using only words and gestures," Halsin began. "If you break, I tickle you. If you don’t, well… I’ll let you tickle me.”
Astarion wanted to laugh already. But he practiced restraint, if only to rob Halsin of the satisfaction. “Fascinating. You wish to tease me into laughing, is that it?"
Halsin's brow lifted. “I see that you’re already familiar with this game.”
“Indeed. It does wonders for our dear Tav.” Astarion tilts his head. “And I suspect that’s where you found the inspiration for this little ‘game’…”
Halsin chuckled, “you caught me there, I’m afraid.”
So Tav talked Halsin into this? Astarion noted to make them pay for that later. But currently, he found the prospect of tickling Halsin incredibly tempting…
“Fine. I’ll play your little game. But on one condition: no magic.”
Halsin nods. “I had no intention of using spell craft.”
“Good!" Astarion raised his chin, wearing a smug grin. The rogue was certain he'd win this little challenge. Halsin would be sorry he ever approached Astarion tonight. "Now that we’ve got the rules in place, what would you like me to do?”
“Make yourself comfortable,” Halsin instructed, moving closer to Astarion. “Keep your arms up and behind your head.” He stood on his knees by Astarion’s side, waiting patiently as the pale elf reclined and put his hands behind his head, even stretching out his legs and crossing his ankles as a show of confidence.
Halsin got right to it, raising both his hands and wiggling his fingers. But Astarion didn’t even flinch.
“So, you are quite vulnerable right now…” Halsin started as his wiggling fingers moved to hover over Astarion’s underarms. “There’s nothing stopping me from tickling you…” Then hovered over his sides. “…not here…” Next, his rib cage. “…or here.” And finally, his belly.
“No cooing? I’m almost disappointed,” Astarion observed, smirking. “Sadly, it’s not working. You might as well give up. I have a feeling you’ll like me tickling you as much as Tav does.”
“I don’t doubt it. You always seem to know what you’re doing.” Halsin replied. “However if you’re so sure my technique isn’t working, why are you so still?”
Astarion felt a chill down his back and had to fight to keep his eyes from widening. “I am of the undead persuasion, remember? Stillness comes with the territory.”
“Your muscles tense…” Halsin continued to narrate, his hands wandering but still hovering, “…wherever my hands move.” They settle over Astarion’s thighs. “Hm, and your eyes follow them wherever they go.”
Astarion curled his toes, hidden safely within his slippers. “How sweet of you to notice my eyes.”
“And you’re trying to distract me.” Halsin lowered his hands just slightly. “Oh? Did you just twitch?”
Astarion’s jaw clenched. A muscle spasmed, but he didn’t think it was obvious.
Halsin went on, “I do recall you reacting quite violently when I tickled you here.”
“Oh, I will.” Halsin’s hands hovered over Astarion’s knees next.
Astarion shifted his legs before he realized he was doing it. He whispered harshly, "fuck!”
Halsin beamed and exclaimed, “aha! So it moves!”
“Shut up,” Astarion hissed.
“I don’t think I will.” The druid’s hands moved back up Astarion’s frame, hovering over the same spots again. But this time, Halsin didn’t say a word. Astarion braced himself, fighting his body’s desire to shift away from the hovering hands.
“Why aren’t saying anything, hm?” Astarion dared when the silence was almost too much to bear. “Run out of material already? Should I expect to hear ‘tickle, tickle’ next?”
“That wouldn’t work on you," Halsin said. “At least not until I actually tickle you.”
Astarion wanted to scream. Halsin knew what he was doing after all and it was infuriating. Just a few observations and some wiggling fingers had Astarion squirming! How was that possible?! …wait.
No! Astarion almost gasped out loud at how his body betrayed him. He was squirming!
“Hm. I think you’re about to crack. You’ve been awfully quiet.” Halsin hovered over Astarion’s belly, fingers still. “And you’re trembling. Worried I’m going to tickle you here now?”
Astarion didn’t dare speak. He pressed his lips shut as they threatened to curve upwards. His eyes were locked onto Halsin’s hands.
“Or should I aim for somewhere a bit more… exposed?” Halsin’s hands quickly dove for Astarion’s arm pits.
“Hehehe!”
A giggly shriek flew out of Astarion as he pulled his arms down and rolled over into a fetal position. When he looked up to curse the druid, his fury was replaced with a dreadful realization: the druid never actually touched him. To Astarion's horror, Halsin was grinning and his hands were up and no one where near him.
“You–you–you–AGH! Damn you!” Astarion snapped at Halsin, too flustered to put a sentence together as he unraveled himself and sat up.
“Come now, Astarion. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Halsin smiled, lowering his hands.
“Speak for yourself!” Astarion growled, smoothing back his hair and cursing under his breath. He didn’t dare to look around to see if anyone noticed what occurred. He swore that Tav would be sorry for ever saying anything to Halsin…
“You know what I think?” Halsin rested a hand on Astarion’s shoulder. “You're sure to have when I take my prize.”
“Oh gods, no…” Astarion sighed, covering his face. He didn’t want to admit it but he’d lost fair and square. His only solace would be that he’d sleep well tonight. Everytime Halsin tickled him, it hadn't been for very long. However, the druid was known to be ruthless. “Fine!" He threw his arms out in defeat. "Let’s get this over with…”
“Not tonight, I think. It’s getting late.” Halsin removed his hand from Astarion’s shoulder. “I’ll take my prize tomorrow, so as to not disturb the others.” Once the druid stood, he winked at Astarion. “Rest well, my friend. Thank you for indulging me.”
Astarion watched Halsin walk away, too stunned to respond. Then once recovered from his stupor, he reached for one of his cushions and screamed into it, silently vowing revenge on not only Tav, but Halsin...
As you know, I love doing tktober every year! I'm always eager to come up with fun stories to fit the spooky theme and enjoy reading the same. However, I've noticed that the popular tktober prompt lists aren't really so much about Halloween or the time of year as they are just...prompts. That we fill during October.
SO! To that end, I'm curious: Would anyone else love a prompt list for tktober that consists mainly of spooky/fall themed prompts for us to add a tickly spin to? I'm thinking along the lines of the lists I created for myself in the years 2023-24 (which can be found on my masterlist for reference). I would love to create one for us to use (both daily and weekly!), but only if there's enough interest for that sort of thing. Otherwise I can keep my Halloween/spooky loving prompts to myself and do my own thing, which I've already been doing the last couple of years.
would you be interested in a more Halloween-themed tktober prompt list?
