Aerith should have known better.
She's lying spreadeagled on the bed, wrists and ankles bound with soft scarves tied securely to the posts. Her damp hair clings to her cheeks, still drying from the shower she had just taken, and she's clad only in delicate lingerie—a lacy bralette and matching panties—that leaves her fair skin bare and vulnerable. The soft moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a silvery glow over the room. It's late, and she thought she'd have a quiet night to herself, but Tifa and Yuffie had other plans. Ambushing her as she came out of the bathroom, they had her giggling and flustered before she even knew what was happening.
Her cheeks are flushed a deep pink, both from the exertion of struggling and from the embarrassment of her situation. She tugs lightly at the scarves holding her wrists, but there's no escape. Her green eyes dart between Tifa and Yuffie, wide with apprehension.
"You said you could handle it," Tifa says, her arms crossed and a sly smirk playing on her lips. She's leaning casually against the bedpost, though there's a flicker of something deeper in her expression—a touch of jealousy, perhaps, lingering from Aerith's earlier date with Cloud. Tifa would never admit it outright, but this playful revenge feels oddly satisfying.
"I didn't think you meant this!" Aerith protests, her voice high-pitched and nervous. Her legs shift, toes curling as she instinctively tries to cover herself despite being fully restrained.
Yuffie crouches beside the bed, her grin nothing short of wicked. "Come on, Aerith, we're just having a little fun. Besides, we've gotta know—can you really handle it?" She wiggles her fingers menacingly in the air, making Aerith squirm in anticipation.
Tifa chuckles and steps closer, her dark eyes glinting mischievously. "Let's find out. Where should we start, Yuffie?"
"Oh, that's easy," Yuffie replies, rubbing her hands together theatrically. "Her sides, obviously. She's already twitching just thinking about it!"
Aerith gasps, tugging harder at the scarves. "Wait—no, no, no! Not my—"
But Yuffie's fingers dart to Aerith's waist, her touch light and teasing. Aerith jolts violently, a shriek escaping her lips as her hips buck against the bed. "No! Please!" she cries, her body twisting as much as the restraints allow.
"She's so ticklish," Yuffie says gleefully, her fingers dancing along Aerith's bare sides with relentless precision. "I barely touched her!"
Tifa joins in, placing her hands on Aerith's ribs and giving them a firm squeeze. Aerith's laughter bubbles up uncontrollably, her voice rising in frantic pleas. "Tifa, stop! I can't—please!"
Her head thrashes from side to side, her damp hair sticking to her flushed cheeks. Her fingers clench and unclench as her body writhes under their touch. Every nerve feels like it's on fire, and her chest heaves as she struggles to catch her breath between bouts of hysterical laughter.
"Uh-oh, did I say something funny?" Tifa teases, her voice dripping with mock innocence. "Or does it really tickle that much?"
"I can't! I can't! Please!" Aerith begs, her voice cracking as tears streak down her face.
Yuffie, ever the instigator, moves her hands higher, skimming Aerith's smooth underarms. The reaction is immediate—Aerith lets out a piercing scream, her back arching off the bed as if she's trying to levitate away from the sensation. "Not there! Anything but there!"
"Wow, this is almost too easy," Yuffie says, her grin widening as she continues to torment Aerith's underarms. "You're ticklish everywhere, aren't you?"
Tifa's hands trail lower, settling on Aerith's thighs. She kneads the soft flesh gently but deliberately, and Aerith's legs twitch and jerk uncontrollably. "Tifa, please! Please, I'm begging you!" she pleads, her hips bucking wildly as if she can shake them off through sheer willpower.
The torment continues, with Tifa and Yuffie trading places and testing every inch of Aerith's sensitive body. Yuffie gleefully discovers that the soles of Aerith's feet are unbearable, her toes curling tightly and her voice breaking into desperate squeals when Yuffie's fingers trace along the arches. Meanwhile, Tifa takes her time with Aerith's ribs and waist, kneading them with firm, rhythmic squeezes and marveling at how every touch sends her into fits of uncontrollable giggles.
Every time they switch spots, Aerith experiences a fresh wave of torment. The teasing remarks, the anticipation of where they'll strike next—it all keeps her nerves on edge, making every touch feel like the first. Her laughter is raw and frantic, her body twisting and writhing as if she can somehow escape the maddening sensations.
Finally, after what feels like hours for Aerith (but was only a few minutes), Tifa sits back, wiping her hands on her pants and casting a satisfied look at Yuffie. "I think that's enough. Don't you?"
Yuffie pouts, clearly reluctant to stop. "Aw, but she's so much fun!"
Aerith lies limp on the bed, her chest heaving as she gasps for air. Her voice is hoarse, her skin still tingling with the ghost of their touches. "Never… again," she croaks, barely audible.
Tifa pats her on the shoulder, her tone almost soothing. "Sure, Aerith. Whatever you say."
But the mischievous smirk she shares with Yuffie suggests otherwise. Aerith groans, closing her eyes. Why do I even put up with them?