LeeBangChannie (RP)

“Okay!” He chirped. “Here’s the game: I toss this little guy at one of the targets—” He mimicked a throw with a little underhand lob, then caught it again, “—and wherever he lands, I get to tickle that exact spot. For two full minutes.”

Jisung’s jaw dropped, and his mind began blanking from panic. “That’s not a game, that’s a death sentence!”

Minho grinned. “It’s entertainment.”

And ten minutes later, Jisung was in the chair, face burning, legs trembling, arms bound behind his back, and watching in wide-eyed panic as Minho stepped back, held the quokka in his hands like it was a bomb, and grinned at him with the look of someone about to destroy a man.

“Ready~?” Minho cooed.

“Minho I swear on EVERY SKZOO EVER MADE—”

“Too late~”

And the first plushie flew through the air.

It hit Jisung’s right knee. 

And the ace gasped like he’d been shot. “NOOO—NO NONO NOT THE KNEE—” He shrieked, already pulling at the restraints in a wild, twitchy panic. 

Minho was beaming.

“Ooooh,” He cooed like he’d just won a jackpot, crouching slowly, dramatically, right in front of Jisung’s trembling legs. “First try. Right knee. You know what that means~”

“I’M GONNA DIE!!” Jisung wailed, gritting his teeth and tugging at his restraints. “Hyung—HYUNG YOU KNOW HOW BAD IT IS!!”

“And that’s why I’m going to go gentle.” Minho reassured, although his grin said otherwise. 

His nails skittered in little circles around the softest parts of Jisung’s knee, dancing around the cap, then suddenly scribbling up the edge where it met the thigh. Then back again, lightly, just enough to make Jisung’s laughter pitch climb higher and higher—

And Sungie was giggling like an idiot. 

“Minhoooo!!” Jisung whined. “I cahahahahan’t TAHAHAHAKE THAHAT!!”  

“You’re doing amazing,” Minho giggled, switching hands and doubling down with both thumbs now pressing right into the squishy dip just below the kneecap.

And when the timer rang, Minho stepped back. 

Minho held the plush quokka like it was a sacred weapon.

Jisung, still breathless and twitchy from the first round, had tears in his eyes and a dazed, pleading smile on his face. His left knee was red, twitching, clearly still feeling the aftershocks of the ticklish frenzy Minho had driven him into.

And Jisung’s entire soul left his body the moment the plushie hit him square on the inner thigh—not just grazing a target, not just skimming the edge, but lodging itself perfectly between the two inner thigh bullseyes Minho had oh-so-innocently set up earlier.

“Oh,” Minho whispered, blinking in mock awe. “Double hit.”

“Minho, please…” Jisung gasped out, hips shifting in the seat like he could somehow melt out of the chair entirely. “PLEASE not the thigh, not the—Minho PLEASE!!”

And Minho absolutely pounced, his fingers digging into the muscle without an ounce of hesitation.

Jisung absolutely lost it, instantly squealing so loud it echoed throughout the room. His body jerked, knees yanked inwards instinctively, but they were strapped down tight. All he could do was laugh and giggle and take it.

Minho’s fingers skittered everywhere. Up and down the plush, sensitive skin, around the edges of the taped-on targets, dragging in slow horrible spirals near the crease where thigh met hip.

“Plehehehehease—!!” Jisung squeaked, cheeks soaked with tears, voice climbing higher and higher with every scribble. “Nohohohot thehehehere not theheehheereee—MINHOOHOHOHO—!!”

“But I hit the target,” Minho said sweetly. “Both of them!! Gotta respect the rules.”

He leaned in, his hair brushing against Jisung’s thigh as he focused his evil little clawing just under the edge of the tape, right in the soft dip of flesh, making Jisung’s laughter crack into desperate, cackly little giggles.

“Youhuhuhure so mehehehehehean to mehehehe!!” He wailed, twisting like crazy.

Minho only smiled wider.

He picked up the pace, switching to light spidering for a few seconds—just enough to make Jisung think he could breathe—before suddenly digging in again with firm little kneads of his thumbs into the trembling muscle.

That got the loudest howl yet.

“YOUHUHUHAHHAH—!!”

Jisung was gone. A thrashing, teary mess, drooling and squealing and sputtering out half-syllables of gibberish.

“I’M GONNA DIE—” He gasped, head lolling as he laughed himself red, “I cahhahahahan’t STOHOHOP TIHIHICKLING MEEHEHEH!!”

“You’re gonna laugh.” Minho corrected, glancing at the timer with a grin. “Still one minute to go~”

Jisung screamed again.

Minho leaned in with the softest, evilest voice imaginable. “Want me to use the nails now?”

Jisung let out a sound that couldn’t even be classified as human when Minho’s nails trailed down his thigh, past his knee, and right against his calves. 

This was so unfair. Jisung didn’t even know he was that ticklish there. But now he was thrashing and screeching like a banshee at the feeling of nails dragging along the skin there, and poor Sungie was losingit. 

“OKAHAHAHAHAY OKAY!! I GET IT I GET IT!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE ITS TOO TIHIHICKLISH!!” Sung didn’t even know what he was screeching about, all he could feel was the tickles. 

“Okay okay,” Minho laughed, letting up and watching Jisung pant before reaching back to unclip the restraints. “You did great~”

“Never agahain.” 

“Ehhhh…we’ll think about that later.”

It was one of those lazy afternoons in the dorm — the kind where nobody had anything to do but annoy each other. Seungmin, of course, had chosen the latter.

He was lying sprawled across the living room couch, dressed in a soft oversized hoodie, shorts, and the fluffiest socks imaginable. His feet were propped up on the armrest, his phone lazily flipping between apps. But his true entertainment wasn’t on the screen.

It was Lee Know, dancing around the kitchen to some random beat, waiting for the microwave to finish reheating his lunch.

“Hyung,” Seungmin called out, his voice already laced with mischief. “What exactly are you doing?”

Lee Know raised an eyebrow. “Cooking.”

“That’s cooking?” Seungmin grinned. “Looked more like wierd dancing... if the theme was ‘confused flamingo.’”

Lee Know blinked. “Excuse me?”

Seungmin shrugged with faux innocence. “Just saying.”

Lee Know stared at him for a beat. “You want to rethink that?”

“Why? Is the flamingo offended?”

Lee Know set his bowl down slowly and turned toward the couch, arms crossed. Seungmin’s smirk widened.

“Oh, are you mad?” he teased. “Is the great Lee Know going to—HEY!”

Because suddenly, Lee Know was walking straight for him with that familiar slow, calm, deadly energy — the exact kind that spelled doom for whoever was in his path.

Seungmin scrambled to sit up, but Lee Know was already there, kneeling at the edge of the couch by Seungmin’s socked feet, cracking his knuckles.

“Hyung—wait—I was just joking—!”

“Were you?” Lee Know asked, grabbing both of Seungmin’s ankles before he could escape. “Funny. I’m about to be hilarious.”

Seungmin didn’t even have time to beg properly before Lee Know’s fingers dove into his soles — through the socks, but still devilishly effective.

“NAHAHAHAHY! NOHOHOHOOO!” Seungmin shrieked, throwing his head back, twisting and thrashing on the couch.

Lee Know smirked. “That doesn’t sound like your bratty nature now.”

“YOHOHOU SAID YOU WERE COHOHOOKING—NOT TORTURING!”

“I was cooking. But now,” Lee Know said, voice casual, fingers scratching the middle of Seungmin’s arches, “I’m dealing with a guy who doesn’t know when to shut up.”

Seungmin bucked wildly, trying to yank his feet away, but Lee Know had them perfectly pinned, using his thighs to trap them in place as he tickled mercilessly. His fingers moved in every direction — zigzags, scribbles, light fluttering under the toes — and Seungmin was losing it.

“PLEHEHEHEASE HYUHUHUUNG—”

“Oh?” Lee Know said, finally slowing his fingers for just a moment. “Already begging?”

Seungmin panted, chest heaving, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You know,” Lee Know said, raising a brow as he studied Seungmin’s socked feet. “I think these fluffy little socks are actually protecting you too much.”

“No. No, nononono—don’t you da—”

Too late.

Lee Know peeled the first sock off with exaggerated slowness, revealing Seungmin’s bare foot. His toes curled instinctively, already bracing. The second sock followed, flung somewhere behind him.

Lee Know gave a satisfied hum. “Much better.”

Seungmin’s feet were pale, soft, and twitching. His toes wiggled nervously as Lee Know just stared at them for a moment.

“You know what happens now, right?” he asked.

Seungmin gulped. “You don’t have to—”

“Oh, but I do.”

Then Lee Know’s fingers were back, this time on bare skin, and Seungmin let out a scream-laugh so loud it echoed.

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAA! I CAHAHAN’T!”

“Oh, I know,” Lee Know teased, dragging a single finger slowly up the side of Seungmin’s sole, making him convulse. “That’s the whole point.”

He tickled under the toes, scratched the heels, traced lazy spirals into the balls of his feet — and Seungmin was hysterical, voice cracking as he kicked uselessly.

His feet twitched and curled with every touch, but Lee Know was relentless. “Are these ticklish little feet still feeling bratty?”

“NOHOHOHO! I SWEHEHEAR!”

Lee Know laughed, eyes glinting. “I don’t believe you.”

Then, slowly, as Seungmin lay limp and trembling in laughter, Lee Know’s fingers stilled.

But instead of letting go, he reached one hand up — and landed it right on Seungmin’s lower tummy.

Seungmin’s breath hitched.

“Wait—wait wait hyung—”

“You didn’t think we were done, did you?”

And then — both hands moved at once. One resumed torturing Seungmin’s bare soles, while the other dug into his belly, knowing right where Seungmin was absolutely weakest.

The reaction was instant.

Seungmin gasped.

Then nothing.

No laughter.

Just wild, red-faced, open-mouthed silent laughter, his body arched and trembling.

Lee Know grinned like the devil. “There it is. The mute button.”

He kept going, alternating between scribbling up and down Seungmin’s arches and squeezing along his belly. It was completely unfair, completely overwhelming — and completely deserved.

Seungmin’s arms flailed blindly above his head. His feet were trying to kick, but Lee Know had him perfectly locked down.

After nearly a full minute of silent writhing, Seungmin let out the tiniest, broken wheeze.

“Hyuh-hyuh—hyung—”

Lee Know, finally satisfied, slowed his hands and then stopped, letting Seungmin’s legs fall back onto the couch gently.

Seungmin was a wreck — flushed, breathless, giggling weakly, hair a total mess.

Lee Know stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his hands. “That,” he said, “was for the flamingo comment.”

Seungmin could barely speak. “I... I hate you.”

Lee Know smiled and leaned down, pressing a teasing kiss to his forehead.

“Sure you do.”