toast-is-ticklish - Tumblr blog

[toast-is-ticklish]

eclipse

(shigeo, ritsu, teru)

summary: being caught in the middle of a rivalry is exhausting, especially when the rivalry is about you.

a/n: merry christmas, @lee-lucius !! i was your secret santa this year :) and thanks to hypah @squealing-santa for hosting <3

[this is a sfw tickle fic!]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Shigeo isn’t popular. He’s been told that before; Reigen’s made it very clear, at least. He’s well aware that he has a small group of friends, but he’s fine with that. He doesn’t exactly like when lots of attention is on him, it overwhelms him.

So, he’s not used to being fought over.

“You have an unfair advantage.” Teruki sits behind him, arms wrapped around Shigeo’s waist and pulling him into his lap. His head is resting on Shigeo’s shoulder. “You live together.”

“That doesn’t mean we’re always spending time with each other.” Ritsu sits across from them, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. 

“But you’ve known each other all your lives!” Teru huffs.

Shigeo stays out of their argument, embarrassed and unsure what to say. He instead leans his head slightly against Teru’s and focuses on the feel of the steady thumping of the blond’s heart.

“If Shige liked you more, that wouldn’t matter,” Ritsu retorts. 

Teru makes a hmph noise. “But that’s still not fair! Right, Shigeo?”

Ritsu narrows his eyes. “Shigeo?”

Teru’s heartbeat speeds up. “Ah. U-um.”

“It’s fine,” Shigeo interrupts, before either of them can say anything more. “You don’t have to fight.”

“Shi—” Teru cuts himself off with a glare in Ritsu’s direction. “He’s right. There’s no need to fight over this.”

Ritsu nods. “Right. Glad you realised how wrong you are.”

Shigeo sighs and prepares himself for a long day.

It becomes a competition of who knows Shigeo better. Ritsu, naturally, is winning, although Teru continues to protest against the advantage that he has. Shigeo tunes them out, not bothering to pay any attention. He doesn’t even realise that they’re asking him a question until Teru pokes him to get his attention.

“C’mon! Answer!”

Shigeo blinks back into reality. “Ah, Teru—” (“Teru,” mouths Ritsu, gaping at the use of not only Teru’s first name, but his nickname) “—cut that out, please.” He swats Teru’s hands away lightly before looking up. “Um. What were you asking?”

Ritsu shakes his head to clear his obviously many thoughts and questions. “We just wanted to know—”

“Are you ticklish, Shigeo?”

Please stop calling me that, you’ll give Ritsu a stroke, Shigeo thinks, before the question registers. “Huh?”

Teru pokes him again, gentler this time. “Or are you hurt? You’re not hurt, are you?”

“N-no, I’m fine.”

Ritsu leans in, looking interested. “I didn’t think you were still ticklish, Shige.”

Their attention is suddenly entirely on him. He squirms a bit. “U-um, what was the que—aha!” He jolts, and Teru giggles beside his ear.

“Oh, you are!” He turns to Ritsu. “See, I bet I know more about where he’s ticklish than you do!”

Before Shigeo could point out that actually, neither of them had known anything about it until just a moment ago, Teru’s fingers spring into action, and then Shigeo is too busy with his sudden fit of laughter. 

He covers his mouth with his hand, curling up. “W-wahahait!” he protests quietly at the feeling of Teru scribbling over his stomach. 

“Just admit it, Shigeo,” Teru says, and Shigeo can feel the outline of his smile from where the blond’s cheek is touching his, his chin resting on Shigeo’s shoulder. “I know you better.”

“He can’t admit something if it’s not true.” Ritsu’s voice is suddenly much closer than before, and then an extra set of hands are squeezing his knees.

Teru grumbles. “Go on,” he tells Shigeo. “Which of us do you like better?”

“Th-thahahat wahasn’t the quehehestion!” Shigeo squeals, batting at the assaulting hands but otherwise not fighting back much.

“No, it wasn’t,” Ritsu agrees, “because the answer is obviously—”

“Bohohoth! Both of yohou!”

The two of them pause instantly. Teru is the first to speak up.

“...Both?”

Shigeo nods, catching his breath. “B-both…I like you both.”

They look at each other, and for a moment Shigeo thinks they'll finally stop arguing. And then —

“That's not the right answer, Shige.” Four hands are back to tormenting him, and the noise Shigeo makes is not a squeal… but it is pretty damn close.

“Wait, wait, wahahait!”

This continues for a while — all three of them know that Shigeo could never actually pick a favourite between the two of them. The arguing is just for fun, and it’s a silent agreement that the tickling is because Shigeo needs to smile more often.

But when Shigeo pleads for them to stop, they both freeze instantly; because much like he cares about them too much for his own good, they love him too much to keep tormenting him. A smile being forced from you isn’t a true smile, after all.

[toast-is-ticklish]

prompting my own gomens tickle content im so desperate—crowley is bothering aziraphale for attention (maybe while aziraphale is trying to read or bake or organize or something) until my man is thrown into the bookshop couch and tickled to pieces for being such an annoying little shit. discuss. (ideally this is a recurring event because we know crowley wants attention no matter how he gets it) -🍓, n

happy holidays!! hope you like it <33

-

Aziraphale took a slow, deep breath. In and out.

“Was that really necessary?”

Crowley snickered behind him, “What, I thought you liked when it snows?”

Aziraphale huffed, brushing off the flour Crowley had sprinkled onto his shoulders. He refused to turn and look at him, because right now he did not need that mischievous demon to see the smile he was fighting off.

“Well, I prefer when the snow is actually snow. Like on a perfect Christmas day!” He glanced over his shoulder with a cheeky side-eye, “You’re making a mess of my best garments.”

Crowley snorted, “Best garments my arse, you’ve had that one for, what, 100-somethin’ years now? You ask me, it’s about time you get a new wardrobe.”

Aziraphale decided against responding, instead going back to kneading his dough. It was silent only for a moment before he heard Crowley suck his teeth.

“You’re boring. Dreadfully boring. The hell do you expect me to do, wait for bread to rise that I won’t even eat? Like watching paint dry…” He heard pacing footsteps behind him now.

“You don’t have to stay. I’m just trying to keep busy, you’re the one who decided today was the perfect one for a rainstorm-“

“Because I thought it’d give us some ffffuckin’… some alone time, angel,” Crowley mumbled in slight embarrassment and frustration, leaning against the wall and staring daggers into Aziraphale’s back. “Didn’t realize you hated spending time with me so much…”

Aziraphale couldn’t hold back a fond chuckle at his pouty demon, molding his dough to perfection. “Is that not what we’re doing right now? Spending time with one another?” He loved making Crowley work for it sometimes, especially when Crowley’s been so (endearingly) annoying.

Crowley grumbled, but Aziraphale felt arms wrap around his waist only moments later, a head resting on his shoulder. “Not the way I wanted, though.”

“Must you always get your way?”

Crowley chuckled, giving a kiss to Aziraphale’s ear and whispering, “My way’s the more fun one and you know it.”

Aziraphale flushed, but otherwise gave no reaction. He continued to knead, and felt a bit flustered at how intently Crowley watched his hands work.

He felt hot air against his ear once more, “You’re very good at that, angel,” Crowley hummed, kissing behind his ear, “Got such a way with your hands.”

Aziraphale tucked his lips in, his hands slowing, “You’re distracting me, Crowley. Quit.”

Crowley chuckled darkly, “Whaaaat, I’m just observing!”

“Yes, well, you’re very talkative for someone who’s ‘just observing,’” Aziraphale was ready to let his dough rest when he felt the arms at his waist squeeze tighter.

“Can’t help myself. You’re a bit easy to tease,” Crowley snickered, biting at the lobe. Aziraphale gasped softly, fingers nearly pinching at the dough. It tickled, and Crowley wouldn’t stop even when Aziraphale started squirming away and huffing. The demon knew he was tickling, even blowing air into the ear to make Aziraphale squeak, before finally the angel-

“Okay, I think I’ve had enough,” he said through a breathy giggle.

“Enough of what? M’not doing anything,” Crowley pinched Aziraphale’s sides, purposefully tickling him now. Aziraphale couldn’t help but yip at the tickle, how frustratingly embarrassing, and finally he snapped.

Aziraphale whipped around, grabbing his leather collar and pushing Crowley’s chest towards the door, leading him back towards the living room.

The demon’s eyes were wide,“Gotten impatient, have you? Someone can’t handle a little—oh-!” Crowley yelped as he stumbled backwards, “Ohohoh, excited are we?”

Aziraphale wore a smug grin as he used more force to push Crowley against the couch, “You’re very persistent.”

“I try,” Crowley gleamed, leaning his smug head back against his hands, “I mean it worked, right?”

Aziraphale just hummed, crawling on Crowley’s waist with his intentions seeming obvious. The demon chuckled, prideful over another successful temptation. He pressed his hands into Aziraphale’s thighs, smoothing the pants with his palms.

Aziraphale gently took Crowley’s wrists, bringing them above Crowley’s head and meeting their faces in the middle. “Oh, it’s that kinda night, is it?” Crowley mumbled against Aziraphale’s lips. He felt the weight lift off his wrists, but since it seemed his angel was taking a more, mhm, controlling role tonight, he kept his hands where they were.

Aziraphale said nothing in return, if only humming in affirmation. After all, he was a little busy making sure his hands tracked down the demon's body to that verrrry specific spot on his lower ribs. And Crowley remained none the wiser, still caught in trying to keep his hands up and off Aziraphale (which was agonizingly hard, how he’d love to stroke his soft cheek with his thumb, or scratch along his back, or maybe even keep up his cheeky streak and tickle his—)

“GahK-“ Crowley choked, nearly biting Aziraphale in the lip. He jerked, pinned under Aziraphale’s weight as he felt fingers pinching into his fucking ribs, that sneaky little- “Wahait angel!”

“None of that. You were being particularly annoying just moments ago,” Aziraphale tutted with a smile, fighting to keep his fingers under those ribs as Crowley wriggled and squirmed and laughed. “I shouldn’t be rewarding such pestering behavior, now should I?”

“Yohou cuhunt-!,” Crowley cackled, his hands pushing and slapping weakly against Aziraphale’s, which had now moved to squeezing against his very ticklish belly. “Ahaha-! Hahaha nohoho!”r

“You aren’t helping your case any, Crowley~,” Aziraphale sing-songed, poking his fingers up and down Crowley’s sensitive torso, which made him squirm like a giggly worm on a hook, his hands mainly just gripping onto Aziraphale’s sleeves at this point for something to hold onto. Aziraphale smiled down at his giggling frame fondly, “What would help you, however, is. a proper apology.”

Crowley scoffed through his giggles (it came out more like a choke but thankfully Aziraphale didn’t tease him about it), shaking his head from side to side. “Make me-ehehee!”

“Oh now you’re asking for it,” Aziraphale took Crowley’s batting hands with relative ease and hid them under his knees, pinning him down fully. Crowley felt a zing through his chest, digging his heels into the couch despite no longer being tickled just because he needed something, anything to put his anxious (excited) energy toward.

“Hhhmmmmhh,” Crowley hummed through a nervous giggle, refusing to look Aziraphale in the eyes. Hopefully his lips don’t bleed from how hard he was biting them.

Aziraphale looked so smug above him, cheeky grin and all. “Say you’re sorry. I won’t even make you do the dance.”

Crowley chuckled in his throat, “Not happenin’.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Nope,” Crowley popped.

“I think you will.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because I happen to know…” Aziraphale placed soft fingertips against the skin where Crowley’s shirt rode up, his lower belly quivering at the gentle touch. Crowley’s face scrunched hard, and Aziraphale only smiled harder, “…that being gentle with you makes for a most delicious torture.”

Crowley stood no chance holding back his whine. “You’re being mean, angel. I don’t even know what I should be ap-ahha—apohohologizing—wahahait, wait just gimme a secohohond—!”

Aziraphale had just barely grazed his nails against the soft skin, back and forth against that pant line and, and, and—God, how did you make an angel this demonic?!

“Such a sensitive demon,” back and forth, a single-finger scribble inside that awful hip pocket, and Crowley tittered as he felt his face heat to an unreasonable degree. “So, are we going to keep name calling, Crowley?”

Aziraphale brought both hands into his evil equation, fluttering against his hips with a gentle ferocity that sent Crowley into a horribly embarrassing giggle fit. He kicked against the arm of the couch, his body too long and his nerves far too alight to keep still.

“Angel plehehease.” Oh how he hated that word. Aziraphale hummed, his laughter sounded so pretty when it was laced with those desperate giggles.

“Please…?” He gave a quick pinch to those hips, a flustered cackle escaping Crowley’s chest before bringing his fingers up to barely flutter against Crowley’s lower ribs. Fuck Aziraphale for knowing him so well.

“Nonononohohohoho you bihihitch!” Crowley squirmed and shook, hair a tousled mess and cheeks dusted a pretty pink in his delighted embarrassment.

Aziraphale sighed dramatically, pinching the ribs, “Oh well…” except this time the pinches didn’t stop, gentle and precise as they plucked against each and every rib. Crowley couldn’t stop the cackles and giggles and snorts and whines and fuck…maybe this was worth all the fuss it took to get here.

Crowley laughed and laughed, spewing curses here and there as his ribs were plucked and poked, his belly scribbled, curse his fucking waistline for being so damn sensitive—

“Ahahangel-! I—fuhuhuhuck!—I cahahant!” Crowley pulled at his hand, those fingers poking delicately along his waist and around towards his back making words very hard right now.

“A break, love?” Aziraphale asked so sweetly as if he wasn’t breaking Crowley down bit by bit, one sensitive nerve ending at a time.

“Yes-!” Crowley squeaked as Aziraphale pinched his sides just to be cruel. But of course, Aziraphale pulled away, giving his belly a warm rub that only an angel could make feel so good.

Aziraphale kissed his cheek tenderly. Crowley scrunched his neck instinctively. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Crowley,” he whispered in his ear like Crowley had done just a bit ago to him. Crowley was still giggling at the slight contact, twitchy and unsure if it was over for good or if this was really just a break. Maybe a really short one with how long Aziraphale’s been lingering at his devastingly ticklish ears.

“A-Angel, the ears” He squirmed his head, shoulders as scrunched as they could go with his hands pinned by his sides.

“Mmm, yes I’m aware. I did say a break, no?”

“Ffffuck you’ll kill me there,” Crowley said, a breath away from another giggle fit.

“What an unusually adorable death for a demon of your stature,” Aziraphale teased. He kissed the sensitive ear, unable to hold back a chuckle at Crowley’s squeak. He kissed again, and again, light as he dragged his soft lips against the shell, relishing in Crowley’s growing giggles.

“Oh fuhuhuck.”

“So incessant with the cursing. It’s almost like you want me to keep going.”

[toast-is-ticklish]

complex

(aether, albedo)

summary: sometimes side effects are more prominent than the actual product.

a/n: this is kinda romantic implied bc i wrote albedo sort of crushing on aether but it could be read as platonic so i'm just keeping it vague lol. more lee aether who is surprised.

[this is a sfw tickle fic!]

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

At this point, Aether is used to being a test subject. He came to Teyvat to find his sister, yet now he’s going to leave an unwilling hero and guinea pig — and, by the looks of it, still sisterless.

He can’t count how many times he’s gone through Lisa asking him to try a new spell, or Charlotte telling him to stand still so she can work on her photography, or Lyney practicing a magic trick he’s just come up with. He doesn’t mind it, really, not that much — it’s better than trying to fix all the Archons’ problems for them.

(He’s still hoping for Diluc to join the ‘ask-Aether-to-try-every-new-thing’ club, but considering everyone thinks he’s a teenager and not thousands of years old, he doesn’t think he’ll be doing a wine tasting any time soon.)

Point is, this whole thing isn’t just because of his own stupidity. He made a very understandable assumption, alright?

“Come here,” Albedo says, writing down some notes. “I want you to try this elixir out for me, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Aether nods, although Albedo can’t see it with his head bent down. He walks over to the table and sees two bottles, both filled about halfway. On the right is a pale green, glistening substance, and the bottle on the left contains a much more appetising blue-purple liquid. Albedo doesn’t look up from his notes, so Aether takes a 50/50 chance and picks up the left bottle. He downs it in one go.

Albedo looks up, then tilts his head. “That wasn’t the right one.”

Oh.

If Paimon were here, she’d panic and begin asking every question she could think of — but she’s not here, and Aether doesn’t know how to panic for himself. So, all he says is, “Am I going to die?”

“No,” Albedo says, sounding a little amused at how flat his voice is. “But—”

“Will I be in pain?”

“No.”

Aether shrugs. “Alright then. I don’t see a prob—LEHEM!”

His hands shoot up to cover his mouth, his eyes widening as a sudden sensation washes over him. Albedo looks on with a mixture of pity and curiosity as he sinks to his knees. “Maybe I should have warned you better…”

Aether curls in on himself, arms wrapped around his middle now instead of his mouth. “M-mahahake it stohohop!” he pleads, scrunching up his shoulders to protect from invisible, non-existent hands.

Albedo kneels down beside him, admiring the grin adorning his face. He’s never heard Aether laugh quite so freely before, and it’s very endearing. He finds himself staring for longer than he had intended. Aether is the one being tickled, yet Albedo is the one blushing — that doesn’t make any sense.

“In my experience, it stops after a short while,” Albedo finally says, blinking away from Aether’s incredibly pretty face, “although I took a much smaller dose than you. I’d estimate ten minutes at most.”

“T-tehehen?” Aether squeaks. “I cahan’t — too muhuhuch!”

Albedo can’t help but smile. Aether’s laugh is far too contagious. “Calm down, you’ll get used to it soon enough. It won’t feel nearly as bad in a couple minutes.”

Despite his words, Aether whines through helpless laughter, although he keeps any more complaints he may have to himself. From what Albedo had experienced, the tickling wasn’t intense at all; merely a step beyond tingling, just enough to make one laugh. For someone as ticklish as Aether, he supposes it might be a bit worse, but the overall outcome should be mostly the same.

“It was supposed to be a strength enhancer,” Albedo says, carrying the conversation while Aether is too busy cackling beside him. “It still is, technically. It just has some…very strong side effects. I’m sure if you could manage to stand, you’d find yourself a bit better with that sword of yours.”

“Plehehease,” Aether begs. “Mahahake it stohohohop…!”

“Hm.” Albedo reaches around him to scratch at his side, sending him scrambling away with a shriek.

“I hahate yohou!” he wails, then returns his arms around his waist protectively and kicks against the floor a little. “Yohou’re cruhuhuel!”

“I could leave you here until it's over,” Albedo suggests, making Aether frantically shake his head. “Maybe even make some more for you.”

“Y-yohou wohouldn’t!” Aether cries, although they both know he absolutely would. 

Albedo pokes a spot on his tummy that his arms fail to cover up. “If you say so.”

[toast-is-ticklish]

me when your writing😍😍😍😍

UMM ok genshin fics you should so write amth with lee!aether snd ler!kaeya im SUCH a sucker for ler kaeya my god

overtime

Kaeya hasn't known the Honorary Knight for long, but the one thing he's gathered so far is that they overwork themself way too much. Really, they might even be worse than Albedo, which is both impressive and highly concerning.

Aether yawns for what must be the thirtieth time in the past half hour, their head drooping before they force themself awake again. They've been out all day, slaying monsters and delivering items. Come to think of it, they were doing that all day yesterday, too, and the day before that. Each time, they had already been working by the time Kaeya woke up, and each time they were still at it by the time he went to bed.

...Archons, when was the last time they slept? Really, Kaeya won't be a hypocrite and tell them to stop overloading themself with work, but at least he has the sense to take a break every once in a while!

He sighs and walks over to their table in the library. Their little fairy companion is already asleep in the room that's been loaned to them in the headquarters, but Kaeya can't even remember the last time he saw Aether go in there. The more he thinks about it, the more worried he gets.

"Traveller," he says, which startles Aether so badly that their book drops from their hands and onto the floor. Kaeya holds back a small laugh at that as he looks around the library. No one else is in there to hear, but, well. Lisa scares him a little.

"C-Captain Kaeya," they stammer, blinking up at him as though they're trying to register what they're seeing. "Sorry, I just need to finish this for Miss Flora...and..." They begin to trail off, closing their eyes for a moment.

Kaeya sighs. It's a little amusing, he can't lie, but he's not just going to let them continue like this. "That can wait until tomorrow, I'm sure. Or rather," he pauses to consider the time, "later today. Really, Traveller, it's much too late for you to still be working."

Aether reaches up to rub their eyes. They still haven't picked the book off the ground. Kaeya wonders if they're even awake enough to realise. "I'll be fine—"

"Aether," Kaeya interrupts, making them pause. He marches closer to them, snaking an arm around their waist and attempting to pull them up. He expects them to argue, of course, but he's not expecting them to flinch away and burst into giggles almost immediately.

But Kaeya is good at adapting to things, and if anything, this makes it easier for him.

"Come on," he sings playfully, pulling them against him with one arm and wriggling his fingers into their exposed tummy. "Bed. Let's go."

They double over, squirming as they squeak and snort. "Ack—C-Cahahaptahain K-Kahahaha—! P-plehehease! Juhuhust a little lohohonger!"

For someone who wears such revealing clothes, they're more ticklish than Kaeya thought, although he can tell that their drowsiness is making them more giggly than usual.

"You'll have plenty of time later. It won't kill you to rest, you know." Kaeya finds a soft spot near their side, one that makes them nearly collapse to the ground trying to escape.

Still, Aether stubbornly shakes their head. "I cahahan't! Thehere's nohot much left, I can wahahahait—eek! Stohop it!" Their voice rises in pitch when Kaeya's other hand joins in on the torment. They're more of a mess than before, their braid loose and messy and their face red. They still won't give in, but that's fine with Kaeya—their laughter is addicting, and he wouldn't mind doing this until they admit defeat. He keeps kneading and squeezing the one spot he's found already, his second hand scribbling over all the bare skin he can find. He pokes around near the center of their stomach, right next to—

"Mehehehercy!" they suddenly plead, knees wobbling beneath them. "Plehehehease, nohot thehere! Ihi'll stop, I'll stohohop, just no mohohore!"

Kaeya stops instantly, supporting them under their arms before they can fall. "There," he teases, smirking at their flustered state. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

They glance away, but lean closer to him nonetheless. "Y-yohou're cruel," they gasp, catching their breath. "Tohorture..."

"Ah, but it was effective, was it not?" Kaeya hoists them over his shoulder, ignoring their tiny yelp of protest, and starts to leave. "You'll thank me once you've gotten a nice, long rest."

"Mmmm..." they mumble.

By the time he reaches their spare room, Aether is already asleep.

[toast-is-ticklish]

The Human Experience

The fact that there’s no tickle content for this anime whatsoever makes me so sad. Lee!Maou is just so adorable to me lmao. I just had to write this.

Warnings: This fic contains tickling so if that’s not your thing feel free to keep scrolling. Also some spoilers for season 2.

Summery: Maou Sadao learns what tickling is.

“Seriously Maou why am I even trusting you to take care of Alas Ramus!” Emilia cried in exasperation.

“Well excuse me for not having experience with fatherhood!” Maou cried back.

Alas Ramus started crying again, just when they had calmed her down.

Emilia decided to come over and help out so that Alciel could get sleep after babysitting her for the day (after all Emilia and Maou both had jobs to be responsible for).

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Maou groaned. “Nothing seems to keep this child happy.”

Emilia contemplated for a bit on what to do. She looked back at memories from her father, and what he would do to make her feel better if she was sad or upset. Suddenly an idea came to her.

She began wiggling her fingers against Alas Ramuses belly and the child stopped crying, but instead began giggling, and squirming around.

“What magic is this?!” Maou wonderd in shocked awe.

Emilia rolled her eyes. “It’s just tickling you dork.”

She suddenly noticed the purely confused look on his face, and it dawned on her. He didn’t know what tickling was. Well, of course he wouldn’t. He was literally the king of Demons. How would he know?

She then softened her expression. “Tickling is, is when you lightly touch or prod someone, and it causes them to laugh. It’s a human thing. That’s the basics of it anyway.”

Maous confusion seemed to lesson some, but not by much.

“Well she seems to like it.” Maou commented, watching how Alas Ramus squealed with delight. Emilia shrugged at that. “It is generally supposed to be pleasant. Though I learned that in human history, it was used as a torture method or punishment.”

“Woah seriously?” Maou seemed really interested in this now.

“Have you experienced it before Emi?” He asked the magenta haired girl out of genuine and innocent curiosity. Emilia blushed slightly but nodded, “Yes, my father would do it to me sometimes when I was little. Usually to make me feel better if I was sad or upset.” She then looked at him, “I’m guessing you’ve never been tickled before.”

Maou shrugged. “Not that I can remember. Well… I don’t even know what it is.”

“Hmmm…” an idea began to formulate in her head.

She then looked at the purple haired baby and smirked. “Hey Alas Ramus, wanna tickle dada?” Alas Ramus smiled widely and giggled.

Maou looked at the two of them. Their expressions indicated that they were plotting something not so nice.

“Um.. g-guys whatever you’re planning, please… don’t.”

Suddenly Emilia used her killer reflexes and agility to pin him down. She soon had him straddled, with Alas Ramus next to her.

“E-Emi!” Maou cried. Was she finally ready to kill him? He tried struggling and pushing her off but it was no use. She had him down good. Anyway she was way stronger physically.

“What are you doing?!” He asked.

“I’m just giving you the human experience.” She told him with a mischievous grin. And oh boy did he not like that.

“So Maou… is this human body of yours ticklish?”

“I don’t even know what the hell that meahahahaha!!!” He was interrupted by his own laughter as she began clawing at his sides, immediately grabbing at her wrists “Ehemihihihi whahahat ihihis thihihis!!!!” He cried as he failed to pull her hands off.

“It’s tickling you doofus.” She told him, though she wasn’t really annoyed anymore. If anything, she found this pretty endearing that the king Satan was actually ticklish.

“Ihihihits weheheheird!!!” He said through his soft laughter.

Emi then went for his belly, and his laughter increased tenfold.

“AHAHAHA EHEHEMIHIHI!!!” He threw his head back trying harder to pull her hands off. But the tickling weakened him and he eventually just lay limp on the floor as he laughed.

“If only I knew before that the great powerful king Satan, leader of the demons, could be so easily taken down by a few light squeezes or scratches.”

Believe him, he was just as surprised as she was.

“Hey Alas Ramus want in on this?” Emi asked the child with a grin.

Alas Ramus giggled and nodded with a smile. She poked a tiny hand at his ribs. Maou shrieked and slammed his arms down.

Alas Ramus jumped back from the reaction and began to cry.

“Ugh seriously?! Look what you did Maou!”

“What I did? That baby made me do it!!!” Maou shot back.

“Well it’s up to you to make her feel better. I think I know how though…” she then began digging into his ribs and he shrieked again, this time falling into hysterical cackling. He squirmed and writhed on the floor.

“EHEHEHEMIHIHIHI NOHOHOHO PLEHEHEAHASE!!!” He cried.

Alas Ramus stoped crying and began laughing along with her dad.

“Awww is the big bad demon lord to ticklish for his own good???”

Maous face was already red enough as it is.

“STOHOHOHOP DAHAHAMIHIHIT!!!”

Emilia saw how desperate he was. Even if she felt he didn’t deserve it in the slightest, she allowed him mercy.

“Ok then fine.” She got off him, tending now to Alas Ramus who had fallen asleep from tiring herself out.

Maou was left lying there trying to catch his breath.

“T-that was intehense…” he said, with annoyance in his voice. “Human bodies really are odd.”

[toast-is-ticklish]

Measuring Mishap

(I’m sorry that the picture is so blurry-)

Author’s note: Another fic with Miguel after I said I would only make one? I couldn’t help myself. Can you blame me? Lol! I hope you enjoy!

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Lyla

Word count: 2,242

Summary: Lyla is assisting Miguel by measuring him for a new spider suit, but a small mishap occurs in the process that leads the AI to instead discover a playful piece of information about him that can make him laugh.

—

It’s hard enough tearing Miguel away from his work, let alone asking the man to stand still. He always has to be active with something, whether it’s skimming through files, capturing anomalies, or making sure that everything in the Spider-Society is in working order, so taking a break is not one of his strong points.

Miguel huffs as he stands in his spider suit on a short, cylindrical platform, his arms crossed. Above him, two robotic limbs hang from a steel frame like the strings of a marionette. A yellow strip of measuring tape is held in the metal fingers of the robotic hands as the contraption measures Miguel from shoulder to shoulder.

Miguel taps his foot on the ground and exhales an impatient sigh. “Lyla, how much longer is this going to take?” he turns to the AI in question, who’s floating beside his head.

“Just a few more measurements and you’ll be good to go,” Lyla taps away on a digital screen in front of her. Matching her own hand movements in sync, a robotic hand taps at the air alongside her while Lyla makes her note. “What’s the rush anyway? You don’t have any meetings scheduled for later.”

“I just want to get back to business, that’s all.”

“Business?” Lyla hovers backwards, almost offended. “I’m measuring you for a new suit to enhance your abilities so you can catch anomalies with more ease,” she demonstrates by controlling the robotic limbs to take Miguel’s arm away from its crossed state, then measuring it from shoulder to wrist, “It doesn’t get more business-y than that.”

“You know what I mean, Lyla,” Miguel shakes his head. “Work, reports, surveillance, making sure the anomalies are properly contained—instead of standing still like this. That kind of business.”

Lyla pulls the measuring tape and the mechanical arms away to type another note. “Yeah, I get it. But doesn’t it feel nice to take a break every once and a while? It definitely gets you away from those screens you always slouch over.” She throws a teasing grin at him and tries to straighten out his back with the robotic hands, like she’s posing an action figure. “I mean, just look at what it’s doing to your posture!”

“My posture is fine,” Miguel grumbles. He shifts his shoulders. “I only feel like every single second that I’m away from my hands-on work, another multiverse is potentially being swallowed whole.”

“Ugg, you’re being dramatic again. And also mathematically incorrect. On average we have three anomalies each day, meaning that every twenty-eight thousand eight hundred seconds another multiverse is in danger, not every single second.” She smirks down at him, pleased with her correction.

Miguel rolls his eyes. “Can we just get back to the task at hand, please?” He starts to fidget in his spot, like stretching out his arms to keep himself occupied, yet he’s moving around too much for Lyla to continue measuring him. The AI temporarily hangs the strip of measuring tape on the metal frame above them.

“I’m just saying that you can benefit from loosening up for a bit,” Lyla’s ramblings begin to wander as she tries to position Miguel with the mechanical arms to stand still on the platform, but she’s not paying complete attention to where the robot hands are drifting, “You know, like taking a moment to de-stress. It wouldn’t hurt to try—”

Lyla is suddenly cut off by an uncharacteristic yelp emanating from Miguel. Miguel snatches the robotic wrists away from his sides and fires a glare at Lyla, “Watch where you’re putting these things!” 

Processing the aftermath of the yelp, the AI quickly deduces that while she wasn’t paying attention, she must have accidentally squeezed his sides. 

“Oh! Sorry, sorry!” Lyla regains control of the robotic limbs. She properly guides them back towards his torso, but Miguel flinches away, as if on reflex. Lyla tilts her head in curiosity. She shrugs it off and maneuvers the arms close to his sides to hold him straight, but again, Miguel jumps away without her touching him, as if he was suddenly anxious of the mechanical hands.

She tries once more, but every time the robotic hands get close, he recoils and restarts her progress. Lyla narrows her eyes at him and pouts. “Miguel, hold still,” she tries to catch him without him flinching away, almost like corralling a startled horse into a stable. She attempts to grab at his arm, “I can’t get accurate measurements if you keep—”

“Hey!” Miguel tenses up with a squeak when she mistakenly pinches at his ribs. 

Lyla pulls the robot hands away, smiling with intrigue at the sound Miguel just made. “What was that?” she giggles.

Miguel tightens his arms closer to his chest, almost like he wanted to sink into himself. Miguel clears his throat. He adverts his eyes from Lyla's gaze. “It was—”

“Nothing?” she cuts him off with a sly smile, “I thought you would say that. Analyzing what just occurred now.”

“Lyla wait, don’t-

The pixels of Lyla’s heart-shaped glasses flash twice. “Analyzing complete. I detected a hint of laughter in your voice. And came to the conclusion that…” Lyla pauses as her data is pieced together. “No…” her mouth widens along with her eyes. “No way!”  her voice heightens with excitement. “You’re—!”

Miguel barks, “Don’t say it!”

“You’re ticklish!”

Miguel face palms with a growling sigh, flinching just hearing that word. “You said it…”

Lyla giggles excitedly, almost squealing like a fangirl. “How am I just learning about this now?! I need to know all the juicy details! Like, where are you the most ticklish?” She teasingly moves the robot arm with wiggling fingers towards his stomach. Miguel quickly grabs the wrist of the contraption before it can make contact.

“L-Lyla! This is not the time for these unnecessary activities!” he shoves the metal limb away from him.

“Nah, I think this is a perfect time! What you need is a good laugh!” She commands a robot limb to grab Miguel’s left wrist above his head, like she was innocently going to measure his arm for his new suit. “So, are you ticklish here?” Lyla quickly says and flutters her fingers to control the robot’s fingers to do the same into his underarm. Miguel sucks in a gasp and swiftly yanks his arm down, bringing it close to his body and clinging tightly to his own wrist.

“Hey!” Miguel snarls towards the AI, but Lyla had already zoomed behind him and switched to his other shoulder.

“Or here?” Lyla wiggles the chilled robotic fingers into the side of his neck. Miguel instantly scrunches up his shoulders and growls to hold back any further reaction to the tingly scratches. Trying to fight back, he attempts to nab the robot hand out of the air, but Lyla promptly dodges herself and the hands out of the way and behind him.

“Or how about here!” Lyla slips both robot hands into Miguel’s underarms from behind, striking like a snake. Miguel yelps and arches his back from the surprise, immediately clamping both of his arms to his sides and snarling to cover up any giggles that need to be stifled. 

“L-Lyla!” Miguel barely chokes back an audible giggle from slipping through while trying to squirm from her grasp. His mouth twitches on and off with a smile that shows off his fangs and his frame begins to lurch forward, like he wants to curl up into a ball, the longer he holds his laughter. 

“Come on!” Lyla exclaims from behind, “Stop hiding your laughter! Let me hear it!”

Miguel has to hold strong. Who knows what data-collecting Lyla can do with one of his giggly reactions if she gets her hands on it. She of course wouldn’t do anything that could hurt him, but the flustering earful of teases that he’ll hear afterwards is enough to keep himself from giving in to the easy route. Miguel faces this like a challenge.

He growls through his fangs like a big cat fending off a stronger force. “Absolutely n-not! Aye!” he squeaks when Lyla moves the mechanical hands down to both of his sides, clawing into the vulnerable area. Miguel throws his arms around himself in defense, his smile turning more wobbly by the second as he tries to hold back the giddy bouncing of giggles jumping on pogo sticks in his belly.

“Ah ha! Getting closer! I just have to get past your stubbornness!” Lyla smiles and moves one of the robot hands towards his ribs, teasingly scratching at a spot between the curved bones through the material of his suit. Miguel jolts and snickers start to spill out through hisses bypassing his fangs. He squeezes one arm to his side while the other tries to pry the robotic wrist away from wiggling into his ribs. She’s getting closer to breaking through the dam of his laughter and she knows it.

“Knock it ohohoff!” a giggle slips through Miguel’s defenses. He’s doomed. Lyla grins. Now is the moment she’s been waiting for.

Lyla’s glasses flash when she sees the opening she was planning in her sight. The other robotic hand by Miguel’s side whirs with Lyla’s control, then strikes directly at his tummy, swiping its clawed fingers back and forth like a sponge. “Gotcha now, Miguel!”

“GAH! Lylahahahaha!” Miguel finally bursts into robust laughter. He stumbles backwards, nearly falling, but Lyla places the palm of the second robot hand on the center of his back to stabilize him. However, although he’s still standing, his wriggling torso is caught in between the clawed hand vibrating at his tummy and the one stabilizing him. He throws his giggling head forward with a huge, fanged smile on his face, then grabs at the robotic wrist in an attempt to tug away the mischievous machine hand at his stomach. “Dahahamn it!” Miguel shouts through his laughter, knowing that Lyla has come out victorious. One of the strongest spider-men has been defeated by his own AI with a little bit of tickling.

“There’s that laugh I was looking for!” Lyla smiles along with Miguel. “Why did you have to go and hide it? Now I have to make up for all the laughter I missed!” Seeing another advantage to tease him, Lyla scoops up both of Miguel’s wrists in one robotic hand and pulls his arms out in front of him. 

“I’ll take those, thank you,” she beams above him. She then uses the unoccupied robotic hand to reach the ticklish places she tried before, now that the gates that were holding back his laughter have erupted.

Miguel squeals and jolts with laughter as the free mechanical hand scritches and scribbles at the rest of his torso. Lyla swiftly switches from spot to spot, like a scratch to his ribs, a squeeze to his sides, a scribble or two to his belly and underarms. She pokes around his whole torso, sending Miguel into a squirming, giggling frenzy. 

“Lylahahahaha!!! Quihihihit it!” Miguel attempts to tug back his arms as his joyful laughter fills the room. He releases a snort, then buries his face in his shoulder, trying to hold on to any dignity he has left. 

“No wonder you couldn’t hold still! You’re just that ticklish!” Lyla giggles at Miguel’s reaction. “Ironically though, I’m still able to get some measurements from you. Of where you’re the most ticklish, that is, which I determine to be your belly! Your laughter is zero point five decibels higher in that spot than the rest of your tickle spots! Watch!” Lyla then takes the opportunity to return to scribbling at his stomach, causing Miguel to squeak and increase the volume of his laughter, just as expected.

“LYLA!” Miguel calls out her name again in an attempt to scold her, even though his voice is currently laced with silly sounding laughter, “Thahahahat’s enohohohough!!!”

“Aww, so soon? But alright, I gotcha,” Lyla smiles and releases his wrists. Miguel instantly wraps his arms around himself, panting as he catches his breath from the tickle attack.

Lyla floats over to his shoulder. “See? Now wasn’t that fun?”

Miguel huffs out a growl. He glares at Lyla out of the corner of his eye. “That was NOT fun!”

“Say what you want Miguel,” Lyla shrugs with a lingering, all-knowing smile on her face, “but I can read that your body language is much more relaxed than it was before.”

Miguel opens his mouth to counter her, but he stops himself. He looks away from her with a defeated scowl. A small blush heats in his cheeks. He, unfortunately, can’t argue with her data about him feeling more relaxed.

Lyla hovers back to his other side to grab the measuring tape that she had previously hung on the contraption's metal frame. “Now, let’s get back to business. I still need to finish measuring you for real.”

Miguel flinches away from her, reflexively bringing his arms close to his body for split second defense. “There’s more?!” he frantically questions.

The AI chuckles at his flustered reaction. “Hehe, relax Miguel. I promise I won't tickle you on purpose,” she holds out a reassuring, open palm. “But you better hold still this time,” she ends her sentence with a lighthearted smirk. 

Needless to say, Miguel fully understands that he should listen to her advice, but at least the short break in the middle of their work wasn’t a total waste of time.

[toast-is-ticklish]

Coat of Paint | Miguel x Peter

Random drabbles 4/?

He looked so focused. As if he was working on a serious mission. Saving the world - no, saving the multiverse. Giving it his all.

Miguel O'Hara would never do anything half-assed, no no. Peter thought that as he smiled and watched Miguel paint the wall in the prettiest color of pink. Yeah, this kind of job actually did suit him very well.

"Stop staring at me and help out, I'm not doing this all by myself," Miguel sighed, totally noticing Peter who wasn't even being subtle. Peter laughed and continued painting as well.

"I am helping! I'm helping," Peter chirped. Why was he here with Miguel, painting the walls pink in the first place? Well!

These were the walls of his precious Mayday's bedroom. The last time he and MJ wanted to paint it in her favorite pink color, Mayday took a literal paint-bath and made everything pink that could be pink. It was hard to keep her away from something so much fun.

So to prevent disasters this time, MJ took Mayday out on a trip while Peter would take care of the room. And he got himself the best possible assistant for that.

"You know, Miguel!" Peter started, putting down the paint brush again after painting just a little more, and he stood by Miguel's side, leaning against him.

"You're actually pretty good at this. Calms the mind, huh? What do you think of the color? It's actually a different color than the one Mayday bathed in the other day. When she dragged the pink all over the place, MJ and I didn't like it as much after all. I think Mayday didn't like it either because she cried when she saw her own reflection. Good thing it happened then, don't you think? We now got her this color which is just a few shades lighter than the previous pink. It's much better."

"Peter, I don't care. I agreed to help you out to make you shut up, and what is it that you aren't doing?" was Miguel's grumpy answer.

"Shutting up, but look! We are Spider-men so we can paint and talk at the same time, we're multitaskers."

"Don't want to. Look at your part, you barely did anything!" Miguel snapped, waving at Peter's part of the wall that still barely had any pink on it.

"Ah yes, I'll be quick! But look, I wanted to show you..." Peter tried to show Miguel his phone with Mayday's previous paint-disasters, and while Miguel continued to paint, reaching all the way up to get to the top parts, Peter grabbed his outstretched side for attention. However what he got was more than just attention.

"AHH!" Miguel shrieked like he had never heard him shriek before, and the paint brush came falling down from his hand, leaving pink stains on Miguel's cheek, on his shoulder, on Peter's shoulder and on the floor.

...... "What was that?" Peter asked. Miguel glared at him, panted heavily and slowly kneeled down to pick up the brush.

"Your death sentence that was," he grunted, and Peter quickly raised his arms to fend off Miguel's attempt at getting pink paint on his cheek as well.

"Miguehehel what! I didn't do anything I - wahh!" Peter stumbled back, knocked over the bucket of paint which literally got pink paint streaming all over the floor for a second time that week, and he fell right in it, with Miguel going after him and attacking him with the paintbrush swiping all over his cheek and neck.

"Whahahat ahahare you dohohoing! Bwahhaha!" Peter laughed as the brush tickled his cheek, neck and ear, completely covering him.

"Not so nice when you're the one getting tickled hmm?" Miguel taunted as he kept up the pink tickle attack. Tickle.... The words sank into Peter's chaos of a brain. Tickled? Ah, he tickled Miguel just now! By accident, without realizing! He was such an idiot sometimes.

He wanted to laugh at the fact that Miguel was too ticklish to simply have his side grabbed like that, but he was already laughing because Miguel was tickling him... painting him... whatevering him. Not that Peter was going to go down without a fight.

"Gahahah - tahahake thahahat!" Peter laughed and fired a web at Miguel's pink stained chest and yanked him down, pinning him underneath him so he could tickle him back.

"No one warned me you're so ticklish Mr. O'Hara!" Peter said breathlessly, proud to turn the tables on him and make the usually grumpiest Spider-Man now cackle his damn charming head off.

"HAHa! Peheheter! Fuhu-I'll gehehet you ahahah!" Miguel arched his back and laughed angrily. With his enormous laugh, Miguel gave him a great view of his cute fangs and Peter smirked.

"Never thought you would be the one to initiate a tickle fight and a paint fight all at once," he said, watching fondly how pink paint was starting to cover Miguel even more as he squirmed and rolled around in the mess of his own making.

"You stahaharted ihihit wahahah!"

Peter never intentionally started a tickle fight, but he wasn't going to protest about this either. Just simply tickling him was far more fun. He kneaded his lower sides, spidered all over his ribs and poked his stomach, and he laughed at the way Miguel growled like a pink ticklish little monster.

"HARrgrhheheh! Gehehet ohohoff mehehe!"

Peter didn't get off him. He continued until both of them were breathless from playing around, and he collapsed right beside Miguel. Together they rested on their backs in the sea of pink paint, staring up at the white ceiling.

"Well, looks like we'll need new paint again," Peter said. Miguel gave a low dissatisfied hum.

"Looks like we also need a shower," Peter added, poking Miguel's cheek. Miguel glared at him in such a way that it was a miracle Peter wasn't killed with just that look.

"Don't kill me," Peter chirped, and Miguel rolled his eyes.

"I won't. MJ will when she sees this room."

"Hehe. So.. Yeah? Shower?" Peter asked with a grin, not even minding Miguel's comment. Miguel rolled his eyes and got up, with Peter being all happy and giddy as he followed after him.

Oh they had shared showers before. And beds... and other things. But never, never ever before a tickle-paint-fight like this. It was definitely something to remember forever!

[toast-is-ticklish]

The Ferocious Tiger and the Curious Spider

Author’s Note: I recently watched Across the Spider-Verse and have officially fallen down the Miguel O’Hara rabbit hole, Lol. I saw a few things comparing him to a cat, and a few days before I saw the movie I visited my friend that has kittens, which eventually led to me thinking about this popular surprised kitty video that became one of the bases of writing this, which I also directly reference in the fic! I hope you enjoy! 

(Also: This will most likely be my one and only Spider-Verse fic. I know the bare minimum when it comes to Marvel and Spider-Man, so forgive me if anything may be incorrect! I just had an urge to write for Miguel, Lol.)

Series: Across the Spider-Verse

Characters: Miguel O’Hara and Peter B. Parker

Word count: 2,095

Summary: Miguel has to finish a report with a disruptive Peter. That is, until Peter mistakenly discovers a fact about the ferocious leader of the Spider-Society that causes an even bigger, but giggly, distraction from their work. Enjoy!

—

Miguel types away at his virtual floating screens while he writes his report about the new anomaly that was successfully captured. Another Vulture from a different world, Earth-468, had broken through the dimensional barrier. Unlike other Vultures the Spider-Society fought before, this one had real feathered wings instead of mechanical ones, making the villain even harder to catch due to their increased maneuverability. And, unfortunately, Miguel needed to call for backup…again. As luck would have it, he was sent his, essentially, counter opposite to finish the fight with him. Great.

A boyish laugh from behind Miguel throws off his thought process. He tightens his fingers in annoyance and growls under his breath. He glares over his shoulder to see Peter B. Parker in his pink robe, sitting on a nearby desk with his legs dangling off the edge and his eyes glued to the screen of his phone. The other man is unaccompanied by his small child he usually has protectively strapped to his chest.

Peter erupts into disruptive laughter again at whatever moving picture is on his device, further driving Miguel’s patience through a wall.

“Do you have to be so noisy back there?” Miguel snarls and tries to refocus on his work.

Peter reels in his laughter, even whipping a joyful tear from his eye. “Ohoho, sorry Miguel. I’m just trying to keep myself occupied while watching these hilarious cat videos.” Peter jumps up from the desk to lean over Miguel’s shoulder and shove the phone in his face. “Here! Watch this one!”

“Parker!” Miguel nearly smacks the device away, “I’m busy!”

Peter retracts his hand. “Alright then, maybe later.” He then returns to his seat on the desk behind Miguel.

A rumble of frustration is heard from Miguel’s throat. “You’re lucky you need to be here with me to finish this report…” Miguel swipes a finger at one of his floating monitors. “And haven’t you watched enough cat videos already? You shoved that screen in my face to show me one and I got thrown into a wall—twice.”

“I need to find more to show Mayday,” Peter starts to gush about his daughter, “Her laugh is so cute when she watches them. They’re funny!”

“Not when you’re in the middle of a fight!”

“Hey, you’ve got to take a break to laugh every now and then, right?” Peter ends his statement with a head tilt and a smile toward Miguel.

Miguel rolls his eyes and tries to return to business on his own, important, digital screens. 

Once the room turns quiet again, Peter glances up from his phone. He notices Miguel shifting his shoulders from discomfort, like he’s trying to adjust from something bothering him. Upon closer inspection, Peter detects an object that looks like a small, pointed pin needle poking out from behind Miguel’s collar of his spider suit. He couldn’t believe that he didn’t notice it earlier when he leaned over to show him the video. Peter quietly gets up from the desk and approaches the other man. 

“Miguel?”

Miguel lets out an impatient huff. He refuses to even turn around. “What do you want now, Parker?”

“Hold still.”

Miguel pauses from that unusual statement. “Wha-Ah!” Miguel leaps out of his chair with a visceral reaction and whips around with a growl. One hand clutches the back of his neck, while the other is prepared to attack the culprit.

“Whoa! Relax tiger!” Peter holds out a hand to reassure him. In his other hand, however, Peter holds up a large, shiny, and black coated feather—one that looks similar, if not exact, to a real bird feather. “This was caught in the back of your neck. It must have gotten stuck during our fight with that villain Vulture.” He twirls the feather in his fingers, “I’m surprised it got caught back there, being that you’re wearing a skin-tight bodysuit and all.”

Miguel clears his throat. He narrows his eyes to return to his intimidating appearance. “A little warning next time would be nice.”

“Sorry, but I didn’t expect you to react like that,” Peter places the feather on the desk. “I mean, a feather usually gains that reaction from someone who’s—” He suddenly stops himself with a gasp when the realization hits him. His eyes expand as he looks at Miguel. “Wait,” Peter blinks at the other man in shock. “Miguel…are you ticklish?”

The other Spider-Man quickly scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Miguel then turns back to his work. 

Peter raises an eyebrow. He absolutely isn’t buying Miguel’s unfazed demeanor. A crack in his tough appearance showed when that feather grazed his neck, and Peter is determined to get to the bottom of it. Miguel is purposely trying to hide it from him. Well, not for long.

Peeking over Miguel’s shoulders again to make sure he’s distracted by his work, Peter tests his theory by promptly delivering a jab to Miguel’s side. The other man jolts with a small yelp and a choked out giggle. Miguel twists his head around to glare at Peter, but his menacing gaze shifts into wide eyes when he sees Peter grinning right at him. A little voice in Miguel’s head tells him to run.

With no time to spare, Miguel bolts out of his chair and dashes past Peter. He books it towards the automatic metal doors at the other end of the room; however, a web shot hits directly at the nape of his neck and yanks him backwards to the floor. Miguel kicks his legs and tugs at the rope of web above him as he’s quickly reeled in like a fish. Before Miguel can cut the web with his claws, Peter grabs the back of his suit collar, leaving Miguel immobilized like a kitten being held tight by the scruff of its neck.

“Peter!” Miguel roars and struggles to break free of the surprisingly tight hold of the other Spider-Man. “Let go!”

“So let me get this straight,” Peter comments from above, ignoring the other man’s shouting. “If I try this, you’re going to giggle?” he ends his question with a clawing motion into Miguel’s outstretched underarm. Miguel sputters out another yelp and reflexively clamps his arm down, before raising it back up to desperately swipe and grasp at the hand behind him holding him captive. He snarls through his teeth to keep back the giggles boiling from within his chest. A smile threatens to tug at the corners of his mouth the more Peter scratches at the hollow of his underarm.

“Trying to act tough are we?” Peter asks with a tone of mischief, “Don’t worry, I can fix that!”

In a few swift movements, Peter releases his hold on Miguel’s collar and dives both of his hands to dig into the other man’s ribs.

“AHA! Peheheheter!” Miguel can’t contain his laughter any longer, “Yohohohour gohohoing to pahahay for thihihihs!”

“Eh, your empty threats don’t scare me. Besides, seeing this is worth any price,” Peter smiles above him. 

“Grrr!” Miguel attempts to tear himself from Peter’s clutches, “I’m gohohoing to—AHACK!” but he’s cut off by more of his own laughter when Peter scribbles again into his underarms. Miguel forcefully twists to the side and flops onto his stomach, while Peter continues his attack with squeezes to his sides.

“You’re going to what Miguel? Sorry, I can’t hear you. I think your laughter is muffling your words.”

“Cuhuhuhut it ohohohout!” Miguel demands while he claws at the ground. Peter creeps his fingers back up to the outline of Miguel’s ribs, making the man jolt and wrap an arm around his torso for defense. Miguel, unfortunately, lets out a giggly snort, and he drops his head to the floor, almost as if he was hiding himself from an embarrassing defeat against Peter’s tickly method.

“And miss out on this opportunity to make the leader of the Spider-Society giggle like a hyena? Not a chance,” Peter beams. Miguel tries taking a slash at him from behind, but Peter uses the opportunity to wiggle his fingers into Miguel’s unprotected underarm, causing Miguel to curl up onto his side. Peter follows up by grabbing Miguel’s shoulder and easily flipping the man onto his back, which gives Peter better access to Miguel’s ticklish torso.

Peter grins when he sees a new opening. “Maybe this big cat is so feisty because he just needs a few…” his voice heightens in anticipation, “belly rubs!” He finishes his sentence and strikes at Miguel’s middle to vibrate his hands back and forth across his tummy.

“PEHEHETER!” Miguel tosses his head back with a roar of increased laughter, “Nohohohoho!!!” The bigger man bats and tugs at Peter’s wrists to yank himself away from the devious fingers, but Peter easily has the advantage to keep scribbling at the soft spot that is his stomach.

Peter chuckles at the other man’s loud reaction. Seeing this squirmy Miguel reminds him of something. “You know, I saw a video the other day called Surprised Kitty where a small kitten was tickled and threw its paws up in the air. I wonder if you’ll do the same. Let’s see!”

“Dohon't you daHAHARE!” Miguel jolts to fold his middle when Peter scritches both of his hands at Miguel’s belly.  

To Miguel’s dismay, Peter uses a baby voice as if he was tickling his daughter Mayday instead of the leader of the Spider-Society. Peter says the words so fast that it sounds more like the squeaky gibberish of a guinea pig. “Goochie goochie goochie goo!” He teasingly raises his voice higher in pitch when uttering the last word, then lifts his hands away, as if he was playing a tickly version of peekaboo with Miguel.

“Grraah!” Miguel launches himself forward and clings onto Peter’s shoulders in an attempt to shove him away, but Peter quickly dives his hands back towards Miguel’s tummy to repeat the same scritches and coos, taking advantage of Miguel’s defenseless opening.

“AHA! Pahaharker!” Miguel darts his hands down to nab the other Spider-Man's wrists from his belly. Peter quickly slips his hands away again to momentarily halt his attack. Miguel snarls and takes a swipe at him, “Will you—GAHAHA!” but he misses, flops back to the ground, and busts into more laughter when Peter pounces at his vulnerable tummy for a third time.

“Goochie goochie goochie goo!” Peter teasingly repeats. 

“Will yohohou quhihiit thahahaht!!!” Miguel kicks his legs out from behind Peter. He leans his head back with another snort. Miguel’s smile is so big his fangs that he usually keeps hidden are showing.

“What? You can’t handle the spidering of my fingers?” Peter chuckles while he purposely scribbles around the edges of Miguel’s belly, “Forgive the pun.”

A dad joke is the least of Miguel’s problems right now. As much as Miguel doesn’t want to give in to this rambunctious Peter and his uncalled for ambush, Miguel’s strength has all but been completely zapped away with his laughter. The best course of action now is to surrender.

“AHAHALRIGHT!” Miguel squeals through his laughter, “Enohohohough!!!” 

Peter chuckles, “I hear ya, big guy.” Immediately, Peter withdraws his hands, for good this time, to allow Miguel a well-deserved rest. Miguel wraps his arms around himself and lies on the floor for a few moments before rolling onto his stomach and propping himself off the ground with any remaining strength he has left. 

Peter squats down and pats him on the back “You alright, big guy?”

Miguel growls and smacks Peter’s hand away from him. He glares directly at Peter’s face, his eyes snarling, his fangs bared. “Never speak of this to anyone!”

Peter performs a zipping motion across his mouth. “My lips are sealed.” He pauses to change his mouth into a smile, “Buuut I keep no promises.”

Miguel hisses out a huff. Not very reassuring, but at least it’s something.

Miguel then lifts himself back to his feet, while Peter pulls out his phone.

“And enough with the cat videos!” Miguel snaps towards Peter’s direction when he sees the device, “I’ve had enough of hearing about those furry menaces for one day.” Miguel takes a deep breath with a lingering grumble and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just finish this report and get it over with,” he turns to move to his desk of virtual screens. 

Peter puts his phone away with another chuckle, “Got it. Duly noted.” He found enough cat videos to show Mayday when he gets home anyway. Plus, he can’t wait to tell her a new story he learned today about a ferocious tiger who turned giggly from a curious spider.

[toast-is-ticklish]

Anomaly WreAks AnArchy on ArAchnid AnArchist

A/N: getting back into the groove of doing requests bc of a req/fic trade with @phobiaoftickles !!!!! HAHAHS THIS DRAFT WAS ORIGINALLY LEE PAV BUT IT HAS BEEN MARINATED AND EVOLVED INTO AN AWESOME LEE HOBART AWESOMENESS STORY FOR DA AWESOME JAMIE OLIVER BOI also footer tickles near the end

SummAry: Non-canon Part 2 of "The Tea Word" (separate from @/tickle-beans' MFTBU)-

In a turn of events, it's revealed that Hobie, being the awesome role model/love triangle rival/ex-runway model/probably ex-con he is, is unexpectedly the most ticklish out of all the Spider-People. (bit of lee!Pav at the beginning, the rest is a shit ton of lee!Hobie)

"C'mooon, go get her! I can't bear this!"

"I-It's not like that!!"

Pavitr continued to egg Miles on about the super palpable romantic tension between him and Gwen, but if it was up to him to say, nothing of the sort was going on. Gwen and Hobie, to Miles' right, were chatting away about what seemed like jargon to Miles and Pavitr, who weren't the slightest bit familiar with music theory.

"So, see, i'sounds better when you capo 3." Clipping the capo on his clipping-covered guitar, Hobie strummed a melodic tune, Gwen looking on in utter amusement.

"Awesome." She gasped, not even attempting to hide her excitement.

Pavitr punched Miles in the arm. "Come on, come on, change the subject! This is so annoying! Will they, won't they, will they won't they-"

Miles chuckled and shoved Pavitr away awkwardly. Hobie glanced over and cocked his eyebrow in a mild annoyance, and smirked. To the untrained, normal, not part of Spider Society eye, this was just a slight change in expression. It wasn't anything to cheer about. But to Pavitr and Gwen- that was the face of somebody about to deliver a deadly poison to those who wronged him, whether that be stealing his Chuck Taylors or punching him a little too hard. Hobie inched over to Miles, scoffing.

"Oi newbie! 'S he annoyin' you?"

Pavitr glared back at Hobie, laughing awkwardly. "I wasn't annoying him, I was just pressing-about a really, very important matter- and it goes without saying that everyone can notice Miles is giving Gwen the e-AAAAAAAAHHH! HOBIEE!! This again!?"

Hobie squeezed onto Pavitr's lower ribs, and looked back at Miles.

"That's one of ...many ways to shut'im up."

Miles laughed. "Bro's a screamer."

Pavitr groaned. "Tickling is not fair!"

"Oh yeah? Well weren't you just poking n' prodding at Mr. Armpit Blood?"

"He was sullying the name of all things rich, sweet and chaIIIII!!!! Nahaha-haha ha ha hahehe-HAH!" Upping the ante, Hobie strummed along his sides and continued with the tickling along his lower ribs, this time pressing onto his upper ones as well. "STOP!"

Gwen laughed nervously. "Yeah, he's right, youshupprobablystop, yaaaayy, you've had your fun!" Gwen laughed nervously, Ghost-Spider hood still over her head in embarassment.

Hobie glanced. "You're next, Gwendy."

"I'm going to go practice the drums. Have fun... Tickling." Cringing with that last word, Gwen bolted out of the rec room. Miles looked on in amusement at Hobie's strumming fingers and Pavitr's exaggerated screeches and death threats and "I'm-gonna-die-s".

Thankfully, the punk placed his hands back on his sides, leaving Pavitr some room to breathe and recover from the giggly stupor. Quickly patting the ghost-tickles away, he quickly perked up and looked over at Miles.

Miles shrugged. "Don't try anything-"

"Hey, hey, you know how Hobie acts all "Ooh, society! Stigma! Anarchy!" That last part was peppered with a thick fake Cockney twang which muddled with the Indian and Pavitr's hushed tone so much it was practically another foreign accent. "But he's reeeaaally ticklish. Like, as well."

Miles muttered. "Okay, okay, I see you..."

"Especially on his-" Just as Pavitr's fingers were about to make the slightest contact with Hobie, his bangled wrist was grabbed and stopped in place by the punk.

"No." Hobie asserted, the slightest twinge of nervousness in his deep voice. "O-or I'll-"

"Or what?" Pavitr sassed. "You gonna colonize us again, tea boy?"

Before an empty threat went past his lips, Miles webbed Hobie's arms together and went straight for the kill on his armpits.

"Or... soon you're gonna be the Spider-Man who's bleeding from the armpits." Miles taunted.

Hobie screeched with frequency that would rival mic feedback as he doubled over to the floor in a lack of balance, but Miles straddled his waist.

"I gotchu, don't worry!"

"kkHAAAA-hhHHHAAAAAH-ha!! Ff-hh-HAH!!" Hobie choked out. "'Umnnot th-ticklish!!" Miles kept vigorously scratching at the punk's pits, and Pavitr took his knees, fingers like insects crawling over the surface and wriggling behind.

"Oh but yes, yes you are!" Pavitr taunted with the sugar-sweet voice he had reserved for cooing at Mayday. "Miles, count his ribs!"

"Um, one, two, three.." the anomaly replied, counting on his pale fingers while his right hand was still tickling Hobie's armpit, albeit less aggressively. Hobie was holding out, but his face burned at the thought of the onlooking Spider-People's reactions. The teens had already gotten some stares from his previous attack on Pavitr, but the others had paid more attention to the sight of Hobie reduced to titters.

"Phehe-HPP-Pav, y-KK-You HHB-berk! Y'WUHULDN'T!"

"No, press DOWN! Like playing piano! Lemme try!" Pavitr moved up, sitting square on Hobie's tummy to demonstrate, two fingers tazing his middle ribs. Miles, following suit, prodded lightly at Hobie's ribcage, eliciting supressed chuckles that sounded a little more like coughs.

"Ffkk-KKKHHHA!! hh-Stop it, ya- hhHIdon'LIKETHAT! HAAAhhh-hHH!"

"Ah-ah, you gotta make little counts too. Ek, do, teen, chaar, paanch, chhah..." The numbers rolling off Pavitr's tounge were the tipping point for Hobie, who with every targeted little prod at his ribcage was breaking more and more and more and he was just about to LOSE IT-

"HH-FF-HA-HYEEE-HA-haha-HUH-HAH!! HAAA- huh-HH-GitOFF! Sling'y hook- Pahaha-HAV!" Hobie's deep voice broke in hoarse laughter, and he squeaked with every utterance of Cockney insult-gibberish interrupted by his own hysterical laughter, shaking in his webbed bonds.

"No, I don't think I will, no, sir! In fact, let's try your tummy!" Pavitr lifted up the duochrome shirt which his a well-toned umber stomach, and with skilled fingers, Miles' hands found themselves creeping along from Hobie's sides swirling into his belly button, then creeping right out to give a few more prods at the ribs. This sent Hobie down a spiral of laughter as inconsistent as he was, with lots of yelps, howls screams and a hilarious cacophony of noises contradicting one another.

"KkgHAHAHA-HhEEEEK-(k-snrk)-ffHHHPHA-HAHA-HhNn! Not hehere- n'-Nn'OTTHERE! (pant)"

"Goodness, your laugh is something else... something ADORABLE!" Pavitr continued teasing him. "Oh, Miles! He also hates it when I do this. Gud-gudi-gudigudi-gudigudi!" Whispering teases that Hobie didn't know the meaning of was a dirty trick- the punk didn't know what Pavitr was saying, but he knew, full well, what those words meant, and they sent goosebumps down his bony neck.

"Damn." Miles laughed. "You try his feet yet? I'm mad ticklish there." At the very notion, Pavitr lit up with a daring gasp.

"Yes." He blurted. "Yes I have, actually." His face changed to that of a playful smirk, as Hobie's gaze grew wide.

"No." Hobie stilled. "Please, Miles, don't lis'n to him- Ah, tom tit." Before he knew it, Hobie's boots flew off and web-patterned socks which were taken off just as quick were revealed. Pavitr held back Hobie's toes, and Miles spidered up and down his soles, laughing lightly along Hobie's hysterics.

"UH-HA-AH-HAHA-hh-HHKKHAA! Phh-PahAHavitr Puh-PrahahPRABAKAR, youhou're a DEAD blo-ho-hohoke, jh-H! Ahahanywhere budduh fuh-huh-HHEEEET!" Hobie howled and hollered, hitting the floor.

"Oh, and I forgot to ask, Miles. You like being tickled?"

Said spider person shook his head.

"Fair." Pavitr shrugged, the casual conversation continuing with every skilled stroke at the punk's peds. "Weell... Hobie liiikes it!" he sing-songed.

"SHhH-SHUT UHU-AHAH-haHhhyyYYou bunch'o WICKS!!" Hobie yelled, only a few decibels louder than his laughter, the noise making Miles back up while Pavitr kept playing at Hobie's toes.

"Does't seem like it. C'mon, let's give him a breather." Miles reassured. He climbed off Hobie, patting his shoulder, and yanked Pavitr's wrist to urge him off of Hobie, who stood up, knees knobbly from the wrath of both Spider-People whom he glared at.

"Heh.. you took it like a champ." Miles smiled up at him.

"You're next." Hobie spat, grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie. Miles made a small startled scream, and Pavitr laugh.

"I'm sure he doesn't mean it." By then, Pavitr had booked it out of the rec room.

Hobie cracked his knuckles. "Now, where to start..."

[toast-is-ticklish]

The Tea Word 🕸️🫖

GIF by liurnia

A/N: STILL NEED TO REPLY TO MESSAGES!!!!! Okay okay Liya let's get on track. DO. REQUESTS! goes without saying that the movie is goated but like, I was gonna write some Gwen (Stacy) but I had a silly and stupid idea and it snowballed. Soooo here's some Pav and Miles enjoooy blehhh (lee!Miles, ler Pavitr)

Pavitr procures pipin' hot chai for the spider-gang, but Miles still says it the wrong way. Luckily, an unmissable opportunity comes by for Pavitr to correct his mistake.

Spiced sweetness wafted through the air in the rec-room of the elite spider society, a pleasant aroma to the chattering spider-people, who mostly were bundled up into their own clique. Lego Spider-Man was recounting his fight with an evil businessman with huge pants to Spider-Cat, Peni was cleaning out SP//dr, and Miles, Gwen and Hobie were being served tall and sweet mugs of chai by Pavitr Prabhakar. With perfect barista-like precision, he procured two warm mugs and with a THWIP! they slid across the bar to the trio. Miguel was definitely going to give him an earful for serving the anomaly, but he did owe the spider-people one after saving Inspector Singh and his girlfriend in Mumbattan. With a dash of cinnamon, the drinks slid across the counter faster than any of them could say "My Spidey senses are tingling". Hobie took a sip, slamming his glass onto the counter. "Bloody amazing. Oi, Pav, you reckon this is why we bought out your plantations?" Gwen giggled, Miles briefly glancing at her apprehensively, going back to blowing on his chai and taking a generous swig. The political quip earned a chuckle and a playful shove from Pavitr. "Oh, yes, absolutely. Much better than spotted dick. Why's it called that anyways? Spotted dick.." Burning her tongue, Gwen winced with a high pitched -squeal!-. Miles laughed. "Shit, guess that's too hot for you." he teased, blowing on her tea. "What even was that?" "Shut it, Spider-Boy." Gwen chided. "Ahh… Man, this is some good chai tea.." Miles sighed, startled when the bar stilled with the loud noise of Pavitr's exasperated sigh. "Miles, Miles, my guy, we've been over this! CHAI. MEANS. TEA. You're seriously still saying chai tea!? It's JUST! chai!" Miles stammered, arms flailing like two eels out of water. "Wh- Look, bro, bro, back up, I'm used to it-" "Yeah, no wonder e' forgot. Bloke's bleedin' from 'is head down to 'is armpits." As he attempted to defend himself, Hobie very unexpectedly traced up the red lining in the armpits on Miles' suit, and he let out a high-pitched snicker. Making him flinch, Gwen and Pavitr both jumped back at Miles' reaction. Gwen giggled. "Yeah.. what even was that? You laugh like a girl." "That's a patriarchal construct." Hobie quipped back and nonchalantly sipped his tea. Miles shrugged. "Ticklish." Hobie backed up apologetically, keeping his hands to himself. "S'embarrassing. Think I probably would've glitched." Pavitr walked out from in front of the counter to the bar-stools where the spider-people sat behind Miles- (..hopefully only to join the other Spider-People) -and playfully jabbed at his sides. "-IIIEEE!-" "I- I mean it's all the same with you people! "Ghee butter".. "Naan bread".. gh- Y-You know what? You know what I'm gonna say to you now?" The spider-person wildly gestured with a ribbing enthusiasm, prodding Miles, who curled away in nervous anticipation. Just as suddenly as he had jumped up, Pavitr jammed his hands into Miles' armpits, spidering from there down to his ribs.

"Gudi-gudi-gudi-gudi-gudi! Tickle tickle!" The look on his masked face was determined and sly, eager to dish out playful karma. He teased, sure to rub in his grammatically correct Hindi-speaking, at machine-gun speed that went as fast as his dextrous fingers.

"Heh-hEEH-hahaHAAI'M- no! C'mon, wehe're friends, right-st-he-h-hha-Stop, stoppitst-hhhHh!! Sh-IH-ihit, man!" Miles sputtered, flailing like an awkward goose. "Ghh-Gwen! Gwen, help, he's attacking mE-!!"

She only ignored him, squealing and blushing with every octave of Miles' laughter and desperately trying not to be involved, Pavitr's prying teasing only filling her with slightly more dread.

"Hoho-heh-Hob-IEEE!! HELP!!" His hyperbolic pleas once again fell on deaf ears while Hobie's news-clipping phone case was pressed in the mugs of the two tussling Spider-People. Pavitr kept poking Miles in the ribs, gradually moving down his sides, prodding and teasing with a fascinated zest unil he reached his suit-clad tummy, which he clawed up and down, up and down, up and- it was driving Miles insane.

"Come oooon, say it, Miles! Chai is…"

"Teehee-HEEEE!!"

"Can't hear you! Chai is.." Giggling a little himself, Pavitr kept poking, making sure to harshly jab at Miles' stomach or armpits or wherever caused the best reaction as he was about to admit his "mistake". Much to his chagrin, Gwen was still acting …strange, and Hobie had recorded up to the three-minute mark by this point.

"Chahahai is tHHEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HE!" "Stop laughing and just say it! What's so funny about masala chai, huh? Huh?" "You're the one tickling me-hehehe!" Miles attempted to swat Pavitr away, sometimes succeeding with his spider sense. "Ooooh-hohoho, then this must be a really bad spot!" Pavitr chimed, spidering the space between Miles' ribs and sides. "Yeahaha-hah, no shit!" "So, what is chai?" His laughter grew louder as Pavitr moved down to his back, sliding his fingers down it. His eyes widened- he had control in those earlier moments of playful banter- but out of pure dumb luck (and probably prayer), oblivious ol' Pav had unknowingly found his worst spot. "Shi-HIT!-SHIHI-HIT! AHA-HH-HAH!" "Shit? Chai is shit?" Pavitr mock-gasped. "The audacity!"

"Nohohoho! Chaha-Chai tehe-HEEEA!- It's good!"

"Come on, you still don't get it?" Pavitr bluffed. "I thought we were friends, Miles!" He ramped up his fast flying finger movement as his digits climbed up and down Miles' ribs like he was speed-crawling up Mumbattan highways. "I'll give you One. More. Chance. Say it."

"Chai-chahaiisteehEEhee!-" Miles panted in exhaustion, Pavitr stilling his fingers as Hobie set down his phone and Gwen perked up from hiding her face on the bar's counter.

"-pant- -WHEW- Ne-heh-ver… neveragain…"

"Wow, great job, Miles, that only took you like, three tries." Pavitr quipped, fist-bumping Hobie. Said spider-anomaly quenched his laughed-out throat by guzzling the rest of his cold chai. Gwen perked up and kept composure, patting Miles' back. "Looked ...intense." she shivered. Hobie shrugged. "Just a spot of fun. I'll send you the video." "Iiiiiiranouddastorage." Gwen bluffed, blushing. Hobie slugged her in the arm, smiling. "Pork pies. (Cockney-ism for "lies") C'mon, we're mates, make some space for me, willya?" The shared air of laughter was greeted by a frown of disdain and glare from Miles. Pavitr pattted him on the back and gave him a smile. "C'mooon, go get her! I can't bear this!" "I-It's not like that!!" ----------------------------- The camraderie came to a close with a blanket of snow-white glow, enveloping the Spider-People fast as lightning would. Everything- the mugs- the counter- Lego Spider-Man- would be gone without a trace. It was an anomaly not even this lot could fix, and the events from earlier all washed away. 4 dAYS Avengers: Secret Tickle Wars- Part III Everything will change.

[toast-is-ticklish]

Spider-Massage

Miguel & Jessica & Peter

A/N: Based on anon's idea. This counts as a no beta quick drabble but it just got a bit longer. Also I am a little tipsy so if this fic is weird, that's why :).

Summary: Miguel has been dealing with some stress and anxiety lately, and Lyla insists he should get a massage to help him relax. Well, lucky for him he has a good friend, Jessica, who can help him with that.......?!?!?! (Also on Ao3)

Word Count: 2171

"A massage."

Miguel said the word with so much disgust that one would think he was talking about the latest anomaly disaster on Earth-8311, about Mayday's poopy incident two days ago (ew...) or about that one extremely childish prank played on him by Hobie Brown and Miles Morales the other day. No worries, he got over that.

Perhaps it was because of all those things that Lyla felt the need to bring up something so irrelevant and unnecessary.

Lyla answered him: "Indeed. What you need is a massage. Lately you have been showing symptoms of muscle tension, mental and physical fatigue, stress and anxiety. It has been proven that massages can help reduce stress, lessen your pain and muscle tightness, increase relaxation, and improve the work of the immune system. Besides, you have not taken a proper break since last week."

"That's right. Funny to think I have time for a massage now," was all Miguel said to that. Yes, he was stressed, that was no surprise. On top of all those stupid incidents, a bunch of Spider-Men actually had the audacity to start a random civil war this morning - like what the hell. What a mess that was. Luckily didn't last very long after Miguel was done with them, but definitely tiring. Still, a massage was nowhere near his wishlist.

"Your schedule allows for it this afternoon between 1 and 2 PM. I could book you aー"

"Lyla, no massage," Miguel protested.

"Did anyone say massage?" Oh great. Miguel looked up to see Jessica waltz into the room, so pregnant that he was afraid she might give birth right here any moment at the Spider Society if she didn't back down for a bit.

"No one said massage," Miguel replied, but Lyla already responded more positively and seemed way too eager to repeat his symptoms to Jessica.

"Lyla stop!" Miguel commanded, but Jessica had already heard enough and she laughed.

"Well, isn't it your lucky day then! I'm the one you're looking for. My husband loves my massages. He says I might as well be a pro, and that while-"

"Pass," Miguel interrupted her. He was not going to make it the discussion of the day, but he underestimated his own AI assistant here.

"Wonderful. Let's schedule the massage this afternoon. What I mean is, of course, right now."

That smug little shit. Miguel groaned and threw his head back. "Fine, okay? Just.... five minutes," he held up his hand, and both Jessica and Lyla chuckled. He was never going to win this anyway. If he wouldn't comply, Lyla was probably going to pester him with it until he would. When did he program her to be such a mom?

Besides, Jessica literally just barged in and presented him a massage on a platter. That was... something. It meant he wouldn't need to ask the massage therapists at Spider Society. Oh boy just imagine the reactions if he came walking in. Not to mention his lack of motivation to make an appointment anywhere else outside the HQ.

"One thing," Jessica said, and she stood in front of him and crossed her arms.

"Now what, do I have to pay for the service?" Miguel said sarcastically.

"Nah, but I'm, well yeah. Like this." Jessica showed off her belly. Pregnant, duh.

"I know."

"So I won't be bending down just to give you the massage. So, let's do it like this."

Jessica shot some webs onto the wall and ceiling, making a steady suspended mattress, looking like a web-hammock… bed… mattress thing.

"Hop on," she said. Miguel was too tired to make a scene, so he did.

"Lyla, lock the door," he commanded, sending the one who caused all this to work on the automatic system and make sure no one was going to enter and witness this hilarity.

Meanwhile he made himself as comfortable as possible so Jessica could access him well.

"Like this?" he asked, laying down on his front and resting his head on his arms.

"Perfect. Now, I'll work on your shoulders and your back first. Arms, and legs too. Trust me, after this you'll be begging for my massage daily."

"Trust me, I won't," Miguel said. Jessica hummed and started the massage. Wow, alright. That felt uncomfortable at first, but actually it wasn't so bad. He tried hard not to make a sound.

"So, stress hmm?" Jessica said.

"It's fine," Miguel answered shortly, and before she was going to say more, he defended himself: "It's just been so busy, that's all."

Lyla was right. It had been a while since he took a break. He had gotten hardly any sleep, and he noticed that especially now that he was getting comfortable. His eyelids felt heavy, but he was not going to fall asleep here. To prevent that, he tried to keep himself awake by talking.

"We should be careful with new recruits. There have been more and more problems at the HQ alone lately. We can't use that," Miguel said.

"Uh-huh," Jessica responded, and Miguel twitched when her fingers moved from his shoulders down his back.

"And keep an eye on Hobie and Miles. Those two...." Miguel twitched again, and that while Jessica merely touched his lower back. The massage was firm enough. Was he seriously...?

"Actually, that whole little gang. Gwen Stacy. And Pavitr Prabhakahaha!"

Shit..... "Pavitr who? Something funny?" Jessica joked, and she repeated the same touch that caused Miguel to react like this.

"Ahah- stop that!" Miguel flailed his arm backwards, but Jessica grabbed his wrist and pushed his arm back down.

"Then stay still. Geez, can't believe you're too ticklish for a massage."

"I'm not too ticklish for a massage, but if you do it like thatー"

The sound of the door opening made Miguel jolt and to his horror, it was Peter B. Parker who came in.

"Miguel, you should hear this I... Oh? What do we have here? Am I late for a party?" Peter asked cheerfully.

Miguel glared at him. "Lyla, wasn't the door locked?"

"Yes. He has a keycard."

"Since when?"

"Since you gave it to him on ー"

"Alright alright!" Miguel groaned before Lyla could mention the exact date and time of his horrible mistake. Maybe he did need that relaxation after all, since even his memory was failing him.

"Deactivate his card. Anyway, Peter. No party is happening here, go away."

"Now now, you're always so mean. What's going on, Jessica?"

"Miguel's a little stiff, so I offered him a massage. My massages are really good. Want one?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Then earn it."

"Oh..."

Miguel listened to the two and rolled his eyes. He didn't like that Peter was here without Mayday right now. As annoying as he could be with his little daughter, at least when she was here, he would mostly focus his attention on her. But now...

"HNgh!" Miguel grunted when Jessica tickled him accidentally again.

"Is it painful?" Peter wondered.

"Nah, he's just ticklish," Jessica replied before Miguel could protest.

"I am not ticklish," Miguel blurted out because it was not okay to say those things with Peter B. Parker right here. Oops. Denial: biggest mistake for any ticklish person in any universe.

"Oh? Is that so?" Jessica sang, and she dug into the spot right above his waist that made Miguel jerk.

"AHh! F-finish the massage or - WAHH!" Miguel yelped when on the other side, Peter started to poke him between the ribs.

"Miguel O'Hara, ticklish? How - just how did I not know this?" he said, tickling him, and Miguel began to struggle and, unfortunately, laugh for real.

"PEH-Pahaharker! G-get y-your hahands off mehehe!" To Miguel's horror, Jessica was no longer giving him a massage either. She tickled him, using the massage as an excuse, and Miguel kicked and flailed uncharmingly.

"Wow, so ticklish! Mayday would've loved to see this, I should show her next time."

"DAhah-don't you dahahare!" Miguel tried to sit up and get off, but the suspended web-bed was actually swinging because of how much he was struggling, and he was even getting a bit tangled in the web.

"Speaking of Mayday, what did I hear?" Jessica said. Yes, what did she hear? Miguel couldn't join the conversation though and merely continued to laugh at their tickly antics while Peter answered the question.

"Ah right, she was playing around on Miguel's desk the other day, and when he tried to take her off, his claw accidentally ripped her little pants. Her favorite!"

"That's dangerous, you should watch your claws, Miguel," Jessica said.

They were the ones who should watch their pesky claws, what the...! Miguel could only laugh in response though. "Shuhuhut up hahaha!"

"And it appeared Mayday did a fresh little poopy in that pants, so you can imagine what happened next." Peter sniffed demonstratively.

"Did you clean your suit, Miguel?"

"GAhha! O-of couhourse bwahahah!"

"Anyway, that was the little poopy incident. Miguel was kind though, he did not yell at Mayday. Only at me. When your baby grows up, maybe they can all play together," Peter suggested to Jessica.

"Dohohon't you dahahare!" Miguel roared. These two adults were already the worst, then more children besides those equally annoying teenagers? Was he a babysitter now?

"Good idea," Jessica said, most likely just to piss him off.

"SHihihit nohoho!" Miguel's struggling and kicking did not help him any further. He was tangled in the now completely ruined web-bed and suffered from the casual tickles on his sides, ribs, stomach and waist, and when he thought that was bad, it got worse when Peter grabbed his arm and stretched it over his head so he could tickle his underarm with his other hand.

Meanwhile Jessica kept her promise and started 'massaging' his legs, but it was actually just more tickling. His thighs, his calves, that damned spot behind his knees. Those two evil bastards!

"HEHEhehe! I wihihill gehehet you bohohoth!"

Jessica and Peter wouldn't react to his threats. And Lyla? She was very quiet, probably making a very embarrassing journal entry about this joke of a predicament.

During the tickling, he was sure he got a few calls, but there was no way to answer them since all he could do was laugh and struggle pathetiacally.

They tickled him until Miguel finally struggled enough to free himself. He landed on the floor with a loud smack and he whined and protested even though he wasn't hurt. Just his ego.

"That wasn't a massage," he growled.

"That's right! It was a Spider-Massage. Much more effective," Peter said. Miguel was about to protest against that childish word when he got a call again, and this time he was able to answer.

"What," he panted immediately, still breathless.

"Hi? Hello?" a familiar voice said.

Ah, Peter Benjamin Parker. Lego Spider-Man.

"We thought you should hear this. Someone accidentally broke the Go Home machine, Spider-Byte and team are currently working on a solution but for now, it is out of service.."

"Ah yeah, that's what I came to talk to you about," Jessica said casually. What!

Because of all that shit, Miguel had forgotten to even ask them why they came to see him in the first place, but that sure became evident right now.

Miguel finished his call with Lego Spider-Man calmly and turned back to those two shits.

"You were not going to tell me huh?"

"It's not a big emergency," Peter said, shrugging. Pardon?

"I was about to tell you, but when that massage came up... I mean, your physical and mental well-being are more important. Besides, we've got plenty of capable people here," Jessica explained.

Miguel hit his own forehead and threw his head back. "Those kids....!" He was going to eat a whole birthday cake if Miles and/or his friends weren't involved in this - which was his equivalent of eating shoes because Miguel just would never eat a birthday cake.

"Woop, and there goes his stress level. He might need another Spider-Massage to help him relax again," Lyla said, finally breaking her silence, to which Jessica and Peter started to laugh.

"Grrrr guys!" Miguel roared, but it was so very annoying to realize how physically well he felt after laughing so much. It may not have been the massage he wanted or needed, but it definitely did have some positive effects. Not that he would ever admit it....

"I'll go check out what the fuss is all about. Don't worry about it. See you later, Miguel O'Haha!" Peter finally greeted.

"I'll go too. You rest, alright?" Jessica chuckled, and she patted Miguel's shoulder before leaving right after Peter.

Finally they were leaving, and taking the responsibility to fix another disaster... but Miguel O'Haha? Oh he was never going to forgive Peter for that. Ever.

"The Spider-Massage did make you feel better, aren't you, Miguel O'Haha?" Lyla said, and Miguel's eyes widened. Right, he wasn't going to forgive her either. 

"Lyla!" he whined, but he already knew, she was going to remember this forever, and so would he.

[toast-is-ticklish]

Opposite Day (ATSP)

*pant pant pant* I"VE DONE IT! THE FIC IS COMPLETE! Sorry it took so long guys, this was a little hard to write for some reason? This one is a little short and has more of buildup than tickling, but the next one I know you all will really enjoy! Anyways, eat up my beauties! And as always, thank's for the kind words and enjoy ;)

“Gwendie. I don’ mind you stayin’ at mah place, but could you get offa me?” Hobie asked as the girl had her feet planted near Hobie’s face. The two were chilling at Hobie’s place and Gwen had the audacity to walk in, unannounced, approach Hobie as he laid on his couch, and fully laid on top of him. Gwen, not even bothering to fight back her mischievous, shit-eating grin, looked up and pretended to think about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” She then picked up a nearby magazine and began flipping through the pages. With a small growl, Hobie then smirked, an idea popping into his head.

“Y’know, Gwendie, s’actually opposite day in this universe. So, fank you.” He lifted up one of his legs and let Gwen fall to the floor with a loud grunt. She glared back with an offended and shocked look, a slight smile to her open mouth as she scoffed. Hobie smirked and stood up, walking to the small kitchen.

“You jerk!” Gwen accused as she stood up and jogged to him, poking her head in behind him. Just then, keys jiggled against the doorknob as Karl Morningdew, aka Captain Anarchy, entered the building. Hobie smirked, immediately creating a plan in his head.

“Oi, Karl! Is Opposite Day, no?” he called behind him.

Without skipping a beat, Karl walked past them while reading a (probably stolen) magazine and said, “Course not. Comes ‘round this time of year every year. Why?”

God how Hobie loved him. Not even two seconds in the door and he’s already playing along with his games. That’s how Hobie knew he had a great friend. Gwen looked shocked and perturbed at the same time. The look on her face was pure confusion. Hobie fought down his laugh.

“See?” He gestured, a smirk on his face as he looked at Gwen. “‘S Opposite Day. Get used to it~”

Gwen groaned, as any other teen would do, and crossed her arms in a huff.

“Since when do you follow rules?” she asked.

“I just do what pisses someone else off.” Hobie gave her a broad, cheeky smile and returned to his teabag. Gwen rolled her eyes and returned to the couch, laying across the cushions. She flipped through the channels, searching for anything mind numbing to watch. Karl sat on the (broken) armchair and flipped through his magazine quietly. Hobie came back and lifted up Gwen’s feet to make room for himself.

“Oi, leave dis one on,” Hobie said. Gwen scoffed a laugh.

“You watch the Great British Baking Show?”

“Don’t you dare mock that show, Gwen,” Karl piped up, “Hobie is very passionate about nice old ladies making cakes and promoting their local businesses.”

“Bofa yous can suck it,” Hobie grumbled, sipping on his tea as the two laughed at him. But Hobie had the last laugh when he saw them both deeply engrossed in the show twenty minutes later. They even started commenting aloud, talking about which contestant was more screwed. Like you can do any better, Hobie retorted in his head. As the show went on, one of the bakers decided to make a cake shaped and decorated to look like an electric guitar. This brought back sudden memories of the prank that was pulled on his own guitar not even a week ago. Then, he realized Gwen still had her feet on his lap. What a perfect opportunity for revenge.

Hobie set his tea on a side table and innocently put his hands in his lap. Then, acting as if he was bored, started to graze his fingers on Gwen’s soles. Her feet twitched and she gave him an odd look.

“Hobs, what are you doing?” she asked, about to move her feet. Hobie quickly caught her ankles and forced them to stay on his thigh.

“Y’know, Tabitha’s cake reminded me o’ somefin. De electric guitar look, yeah? Woulda been mor interestin’ if she used… noodles.” Hobie growled out that last word.

Gwen’s eyes bulged out of her skull as she tried to scramble away, acting like a cat just got thrown into a bathtub. Hobie cackled loudly and wrapped an arm around her ankles and pulled her close, scribbling all over her soles. Gwen barked out a surprise laugh and immediately covered her mouth to muffle her giggles. Her laughter was stifled, but her thrashing and kicking reminded Hobie of an American Rodeo Show.

“Damn, ‘s almos’ like you don’ wanna reap wha you sow! K-KArl! ‘Elp me out ‘ere! She’s a wild one!” Hobie called out as he laughed, nearly being thrown about. Their spidey strength competed against each other, Hobie’s grip versus Gwen’s power legs. Karl huffed a laugh and walked over with a sorry-not-sorry look on his face.

“Sorry, Gwendie.” He adopted Hobie’s nickname for her as he pushed her shoulders into the couch as he sat on her back, facing towards the tv. This earned a loud groan from the Spider-Woman at the weight and that quickly turned into hysterical laughter. Karl smirked and squeezed her side a few times. “You kinda deserve this. You’re lucky Miles was nice to buy him strings. But then again you’re super unlucky since he ratted you out. Now hush, I wanna see how Glendale’s triple chocolate cake turns out.”

Now, contrary to popular belief, this happens more often than one would think. Three punks (Gwen being honorary) tickling each other while they watch a baking show? It’s a pretty funny sight. So not many people would imagine this scenario, much less see it with their own two eyes.

Now that Hobie and Karl had Gwen stuck (hee hee spiderman joke), Hobie was able to properly get to work. He still had to watch himself as Gwen’s donkey kicks still proved dangerous. He scribbled and scratched all over her arches earning shrieks of protest from his friend.

“HOHOHOHOHOBIE!! KAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAARL!!! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLING MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!” Gwen screamed, swinging an arm back in an attempt to hit either one of them. Karl dodged just in time and caught her wrist, starting to poke at her armpit which caused her to giggle hysterically.

“You forget s’opposite day or somefin?” Hobie asked as he gave small squeezes under each of her toes. Gwen bucked back and almost nailed him in the nose.

“Youhuhuhuhuhuhu suck! Okahahahahay okay! Keheheheheheheep tihihihihickling mehehehehe you bahahahahastard!” Gwen said in ‘Opposite Day’ fashion. Hobie bore the most sinister grin a spiderman could pull.

“Keep ticklin’ yous? Alroight, if yous says so~” Hobie grabbed the back of her knees and started scribbling. Realizing she’d been betrayed, Gwen started doing everything in her power to escape. Although, her efforts went unnoticed between the two.

“HOBIE NOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!!! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! N-NOHOHOHOHOHOHO FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR YOU- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, she was so ticklish angry. Hobie and Karl chuckled.

“Gwendie, you are either extremely ticklish or way too over dramatic. I can’t tell which at dis point,” Hobie teased.

“You are evil, Hobs.” Karl stopped his poking assault and just held her wrist, making sure she wouldn’t accidentally break her arm.

“Am jus’ lookin’ for an apology, luv! C’mon, Gwendie~ Jus’ say ‘I’m sorry Hobie-’”

“IHIHIHIHIHIHI’M SOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORYYYYY! PLEASE LET GOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” Gwen screamed before Hobie could finish his sentence, tears of mirth falling from her eyes. With a laugh, Hobie removed his hands and nodded to Karl who stood up and patted her back. Gwen took in greedy, giggly breaths as she calmed down. Then, Hobie scoped her up in his arms and leaned against the arm of the couch, hugging her close.

“Your knees can’t be that sensitive, luv. You really are jus’ over dramatic, huh?” Hobie couldn’t resist teasing her one more time. Gwen huffed.

“You’re the wohorst. You too Karl,” she spat. Karl just laughed and brushed it off, knowing the venom in her words were halfhearted. Then, the man laid on top of her, making the three of them a huge cuddle pile.

“You luv us, luv. Oh shit Tabitha’s guitar cake is gettin’ judged. Stop bein' wholesome fuckwads, I need to see this,” Hobie shimmied upwards, still hugging Gwen, and the three punks all turned their heads back to the tv.

And Opposite Day was no more. 

[toast-is-ticklish]

Same Person, Different Spots

Okay, it’s been a while since I posted a fic on here, but inspiration and motivation hit me so hard and I had to write this! So, I recently saw Spiderman: Across the Spider-Verse and it was truly a spectacular movie, so that what this fic is gonna be about!

I was inspired to write this fic because of the fics and HCs made by @orchid-fics @tickling-giggles and @parker-fluff! Hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Here’s a thought: If you have someone who is similar to you in every way, do you have the same weak spots? That’s what Pavitr wants to find out, and thanks to Miles’ and Hobie’s reluctant participation, Pavitr is able to collect all the data he needs to answer this burning question.

Word Count: 3834

⚠️Warning⚠️: slight swearing

Keep reading

[toast-is-ticklish]

Little Brother Cheer Up

This fic was requested by the amazing and incredible @starb4es! Thank you so much for requesting this; I had a blast writing it! Enjoy!

Summary: Hobie, Pavitr, and Miles have gotten very close, and the three teens have become brothers-in-arms. When Miles is feeling down in the dumps, the older teens know exactly how to turn his frown upside down.

Word Count: 1971

⚠️Warning⚠️: slight swearing

Keep reading

[toast-is-ticklish]

We’ve Had Better Days (Hades)

Ok, so! This is a fic I had written a while ago when I bought the Hades game. I fell in love with it and I loved the parts with Achilles and Zagreus because I loved the story of Patroclus and Achilles. But this is about Achilles and Zagreus when Zag was in his youth. Lots of angst at first but it turns into squishy fluff :) Also I know the Hades tickle community is not many, but imma post this anyways so enjoy my lovelies!

Keep reading

[toast-is-ticklish]

It's a Spider Thing

Miguel ft. Spider-Band & Peter B. Parker

A/N: You vote, I wrote :D I started writing with this prompt in mind and a little bit of freedom. Sooo this took longer and lost 'quality' because I had to rewrite a huge part, but I'm done :D

Summary: Miguel walks into a training exercise where there's more laughter than serious business going on. He decides to confront them about it. Doesn't go as planned! (Also on Ao3)

Word Count: 3390

Laughter. Where the hell was all that laughter coming from? It was definitely laughter... Miguel was sure of it. There was also some yelling, squealing, shrieking, but those giggly noises were the absolute weirdest.

Miguel quietly walked through the corridor that connected to various closed training arenas and all sorts of simulations they had at the Spider-HQ. Though he had excellent hearing, he failed to immediately track down the source of the mysterious echoes of laughter that reached his ears in some sort of vague, haunting waves.

Puzzled by the sound, he had checked various rooms of which one was currently occupied by a crowd of Spider-People who were creating a huge web-monster for their own web-training, one had a heated training going on where the more mechanical types of Spider-Men were testing out their resistance against fire, and one was practically a jungle with various Spider-Animals practicing their skills. Against each other.

Geez, now what? There were too many doors. Too many sounds. He looked around and tapped his foot impatiently.

"Lyla," Miguel finally said, annoyed that he had to ask her.

"Hmmm? What is it? Is he finally asking? He's asking. Took you a while. We love a shy boy," she rambled, and Miguel groaned. This was why he didn't ask.

"Which room," he mumbled.

"Which room what?" Lyla asked. Urgh!

"The laughter, Lyla. Where's it coming from."

Miguel took a strand of scorched hair from his head which got hit by a small flame in the fire training room upon his sudden entrance earlier.

"That's gotta be #412, you were very close though," Lyla whispered. Miguel rolled his eyes, crushed the burnt hair between his fingers and marched onwards.

"Thanks," he mumbled, and he barged into the designated room. No risks for burnt hair, sudden spider-webs in his face or getting caught up in some crazy Spider-Jungle, but what the hell was this? It was definitely a burning spider-jungle of some other sort.

"HAHAhaah! Nohohoho! Lehehet me gohoho!"

"Miles, hold on!"

"I ahaham hohoholding ohohon!"

"Pav! Get him from the right! Oof! I said the right!"

"What was that, hmm? He'll die laughing before you can get to me, guys!"

What was going on here? Miguel could pretty soon sum up all the people in this crazy whatever. Not even that many, but they were making noise like a damn crowd. Miles Morales, being tickled to death by Peter B. Parker. Gwen Stacy and Pavitr Prabhakar were here too, which should mean that also here was...

"Hi."

Miguel jolted to hear the voice of Hobie Brown suddenly right behind him, and the guy snickered.

"Did I scare you?"

Pfff. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that Miguel was so distracted by this silly party, he also got caught off-guard by Spider-Punk and he was sure he wasn't going to hear the end of this anytime soon.

"What are you all doing?" Miguel finally bellowed angrily. Despite how loud they all were, the noise died down pretty soon now that everyone noticed he was here.

Peter stopped tickling Miles, got up and looked at him.

"Oh? Look who we have here! Welcome, Miguel!"

Miles took this chance to escape, and together with the others he jumped to the ceiling where they all gathered together and whispered and giggled among each other.

"No but seriously. What are you doing," Miguel sighed, rolling his eyes at the younger gang before facing Peter.

"Training! We're training," Peter said. "Those guys try to not get caught by me, the Spider-Villain. Anyone who gets caught by me will get the tickle punishment, which could be ended if the others free them. Simple!"

Miguel couldn't believe his ears.

"So you are meaning to say, I'm working my ass off day and night to save the multiverse, and you guys are here playing some stupid sort of... tag?"

"Not tag, it's actual training," Gwen said, finally coming down from her silly merrymaking near the ceiling.

"Training tag," Hobie joked from above.

"Unlike you, we still have some more things to learn," Miles added, now joining them as well together with Hobie and Pavitr. Miles still had an attitude towards him. He also looked totally recovered from that lame tickle attack just now.

"When we are up against Peter, it works best if there's a penalty for getting caught," Pavitr said.

"Yes, and in return, Peter also gets to practice his own skill. I mean, we tried our best to free Miles but Peter just tickled him and fought us at the same time? That requires some skill," Gwen continued. Was she being sarcastic?

Miguel glared at them. "It's an excuse for playing around," he argued.

"Not when there's actually some improvement!" Peter said, and he tapped his watch and showed a little hologram of graphs with the records of their training.

"I did not give you your own watch to play games," Miguel snapped, but his eyes lingered on the data and he could recognize some improving numbers indeed. And at some point there was a big notable difference...

"You see that right? That? That's where we started to put the tickle penalty into our training," Peter said, pointing at the difference.

"Yup. Worked wonders, especially for someone, right Miles?" Gwen said, raising her eyebrows smugly at Miles.

"Why me - What do you mean!" he squeaked. "What do you mean?" he then repeated in a lower voice, trying to not appear too flustered and totally failing at it.

"But... why tickling?" Miguel asked, still not convinced.

"Oh it's a spider thing," Peter said, reaching out for Miguel with those wiggling fingers. "Tickle tickle? Coochie coochie? The big bad spider's got you?" Peter added, wiggling his fingers more rapidly like little spider legs in his direction and making Miguel cringe.

"Cut it out," Miguel said when Peter almost literally tickled him, and he swat his hands away.

"But it's fun!" Peter whined. Miguel rolled his eyes and glanced at the others

"No. I don't see how a game like this + tickling would help you improve your skills," Miguel said, but oh, hello Lyla. Unasked for, she scanned Peter's data, and began talking:

"Miguel, you should totally hear this. Study shows that gamified competition with loss avoidance, a.k.a. punishment scenarios, actually generates more motivation than, for example, the prospect of gaining rewards. It could increase productivity, and improve the mindset of wanting to win and perform better, especially with younger people aged between 15 and 21. The inclusion of tickling as a punishment adds significant effectivity due to 81% of youth finding it embarrassing, and I quote, childish and humiliating, to be tickled in public - especially when in front of friends. The chance of increasing performance to prevent an inevitable tickle punishment can be considered motivational and useful for the training of younger Spider-People."

"So a whopping 19% thinks it's fine?" Hobie asked.

"Miles is definitely one of those," Pavitr chuckled, to which Miles whined "Heyyy!".

Miguel stared at them, wondering if that really was all they took from that long ramble.

"Thank you Lyla for your wonderful contribution," Miguel said sarcastically.

"You're welcome~" she returned with sass. Miguel wanted to make a comment to Peter about the amount of sass in Lyla compared to Miguel himself, but he was too tired to say it and the last thing he wanted to happen was to have Peter and Lyla team up against him.

Besides, Peter already spoke: "So, now that we've got legit proof that our useless training is not that useless, Miguel O'Hara my boy, why don't you join us?"

He was way too triumphant. Miguel wanted to take a rocket to the moon so badly!

"No. I'm busy," Miguel said, but Lyla again was happy to dig his grave for him.

"He's totally free."

"Did you guys hear that? Miguel's joining us. Now we've got two Spider-Villains," Peter said, wiggling his fingers at them.

"Ooooh," Pavitr and Hobie said, applauding. Gwen just stood there, shaking her head.

"....." Miguel couldn't believe this.

"S-so twice the chance to get tickled...?" Miles whispered, looking way too nervous and excited. Miguel swore they were just playing and not really training.

"No worries, he won't seriously join," Hobie whispered back. Despite the whispers, Peter casually resumed the explanation.

"Miguel and I will try to catch you. The longer you stay out of our hands, the better. But! Get caught, and you will get the tickle punishment. By all means, do try to break free. If your friend gets caught, then help each other. Got it?"

Miguel gave Peter a look. The I-really-don't-want-to-do-this kind of look, but something was also really stopping him from leaving immediately.

"Come on, for the sake of teaching the younger generation?" Peter said, smirking at him. Miguel could've perfectly left through the door right now, but instead he sighed and stood in position.

"Well, if that's how you guys want it," he said, cracking his knuckles, then he moved his head and stretched his neck. He was going to at least make some of them pay for wasting his and their own time then. If not all.

"Great! So. Ready Miguel? Guys? Remember the one and only rule: don't get caught, because we'll tickle you to death. Go!"

Bam. They all put on their mask, and in one moment, the silence was gone and the chaos Miguel had encountered upon his arrival was back again.

"Guys! Split up!" Gwen called out, swinging away in the other direction. Peter instantly set chase and started a nimble swing-dance of trying to catch Gwen and also Miles who was already giggling nervously, especially when Peter threatened: "I'll catch you again, Miles!"

Miguel got saddled up with Hobie and Pavitr who were hopping through the room like hyperactive rabbits.

"Hobie, look out!" Pavitr yelled when Miguel got very close very soon.

"Don't worry, we can handle him," Hobie said casually, jumping around and dodging Miguel's attempts at catching him. Miguel tried to catch Hobie first, but he was annoyingly quick, and in the corner of his eye he could see Pavitr think he was safe in a corner near the ceiling. Maybe he should go after him first and...

"HAhaah! Hehehey thahahat wasn't fahahair!"

Miguel jolted. He had no idea what happened but the usually cool and aloof Gwen Stacy was now laughing and squealing like a school girl. Peter caught her!

"Gwen!" Miles called out dramatically, but to Miguel's surprise, Peter didn't need much effort to stop his first attempt at freeing her, and Miles got pinned down beside her and Peter skilfully tickled the both of them at the same time.

Suddenly Miguel felt very annoyed. Not that he was seriously invested in this silly game, but Peter already caught Miles and Gwen, and he was tickling them?

"Ha! Can't catch me~" Hobie sang when he really managed to stay out of Miguel's claws when he tried to catch him again. The nimble guy jumped from side to side, even when Miguel tried to use his web to catch him.

"HRghh!" Miguel growled, but then he saw the two guys make the mistake that gave him the easy opportunity to catch them both: Pavitr went towards Hobie to give him a high five, distracting him from the chase.

"Yeah bro! We just both outsmarted Miguel O'Haraaaaaah!" Pavitr cried, and Hobie yelled as well when Miguel caught them with his web. He wrapped them together extra tightly like one neat little Spider-cocoon, and boom. Now they hung from the ceiling, caught together like some comedic duo.

Pavitr's eyes widened when he realized how stuck they were.

"Oops," he mumbled.

"Never celebrate your win before the end of a fight. I think I've told you that before," Miguel said angrily. They were all still so young and naive!

Pavitr nodded. "I know, I know! Sorry.... Oh no. Now he has to tickle us," he said in realization.

Hobie shook his head. "Pav! Shut up. He won't do it. Wouldn't. Will not."

Now that did activate Miguel's competitive spirit. Oh he wouldn't, huh? He looked back at Peter who was still tickling Miles and Gwen.

"What are you waiting for, Miguel?" he yelled without looking up. "I don't hear their laughter, don't tell me you didn't catch them yet?"

Aaand if Miguel's competitive spirit wasn't activated yet, it certainly would be now. He looked at Pavitr and Hobie and poked somewhere in the middle of their webbed bodies, clawing away some of the webbing so he could dig his fingers into one of their torso's.

"HWAHAH!" Pavitr's torso to be specific, and boy he was loud.

"Ooff! Hey not near my ear!" Hobie whined, but Miguel smirked and began to tickle him as well, wriggling his fingers through his own web that trapped them and finally hitting the right spots that made even Hobie shut up. Or well, not really shut up.

"Hmmmmh! D-doesn't tihickle!" he huffed. Meanwhile, Pavitr was just roaring, and Miguel was merely tickling him with one hand in one spot. How could a person, a Spider-person, be this ticklish?

"HAHAAH! Nohoho nohohot mehehehe! Not mehehee!" he cried even when Hobie was also getting tickled. He was just less loud about it.

"Nohohot you?! Ahahare you kihidding mehehe?" Hobie argued through held-back laughter.

Miguel had no idea why Pavitr would join a game with a tickle penalty if he was this sensitive, but he wasn't going to ask.

"Wahahaha!" both guys laughed as he tickled them with the laziest techniques he had, but just some of those pokes, squeezes and wiggles was all it took to make them bark. Heh, if Peter B. Parker could tickle two people at the same time, so could Miguel O'Hara.

"Heehehee you're so bahahad at this!" Hobie laughed. Miguel looked at him, then at Pavitr's huge smile that was showing right underneath his mask that had moved up a little due to his hysterical movements, and back at Hobie.

"Me? You're talking to me?" Miguel asked him, just to be sure.

"Yehehes!"

Spider-Punk really always had this sort of attitude towards him. He might be even worse than Miles Morales. Well....

Miguel took a deep breath, lifted his hand off Pavitr and then brought that hand to Hobie and began to wriggle his fingers between his arm and torso to tickle his ribs, while at the same time his other side. Hobie did get a little louder this time.

"Hahahaha! No mahahan! Gahaha!" he laughed, swinging and struggling. Pavitr was still squirming helplessly as well, his superhuman strength could not compete with Miguel's superhuman strength - spiderweb.

"GAh- Anyone help!" he whined, but in the distance, Miles and Gwen were fighting a war of their own. Wait... was that Peter laughing? Miguel quickly turned around to see Miles and Gwen had turned the tables on him.

"Guhuhuys! Ahahalright alright! You gohohot me!"

What the...? That was the most humiliating thing Miguel had ever seen. Where did that guy go wrong?

"We've got him, we've got him!" Miles cheered while they both tickle-attacked him. Some teamwork. They were too busy with their revenge, leaving their other friends to die at Miguel's hands.

"Parker, we're no longer friends," Miguel snapped at the disgrace that was happening there, but no one heard him because a) Peter was loud and b) Hobie was also loud - Miguel had been tickling him on autopilot. And oh it was very effective.

"Not so confident now are we!?" Miguel asked the giggling Spider-Punk, and he pulled off his mask so he could see that huge ass laugh. Hobie shook his head wildly, laughing out loud and cursing at him.

"AHahaha I'm ahahalways cohohonfident!" he protested. Miguel had expected at least one of them to break the web by now, but turned out they were too ticklish, and too flustered.

But just when Miguel thought that, Pavitr freed one arm and began to flail, to Hobie's dismay.

"Ohohohow! Pahahav! Cuhuhut it out!" he laughed as he got the flailing arm knocking against his head multiple times. Before Pavitr would use the opportunity, Miguel quickly grabbed his free arm and pulled it up over his head. With other hand he tickled his underarm, which was a pretty good move. Even though this gave Hobie a break from the tickling, just Pavitr's shrieking laughter alone was plenty to keep him from regaining his strength.

"Pav! Calm down!" he panted as if he hadn't been laughing like this just seconds earlier. Well alright, he was less hysterical. But still.

"AHAHAH! This ihihisn't fahahaair brohoho!" Pavitr laughed.

"I only play fair," Miguel said, and he wasn't smiling. But the more he listened to Pavitr's hysterical laughter, the less grumpy he actually felt. Then, he somehow grew more aware of the other sounds of laughter in the background. Peter's loud squeals, and Miles and Gwen laughing joyfully.

With laughter surrounding him everywhere, he suddenly felt himself float through time.

He remembered now. Gabriella was ticklish, of course she was. She loved to be tickled. He would make his daughter laugh and giggle as much as she liked. She would embrace him with her loud, adorable laughter. He could hear it now. He could definitely remember her laughter again.

Miguel couldn't help himself now that he remembered it so clearly and continue to recall it. No memory log reminded him as much of the joy of tickling and laughter like the current live display. Speaking of....

"Excuse me, Miguel." Ah. Miguel felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to see Peter, with Miles and Gwen behind him. The latter two were still blushing and panting, but they looked.... fine.

"Maybe that's enough," Peter suggested. Miguel turned back to see Hobie and Pavitr wheezing for their lives. Ow. Turned out Miguel had released Pavitr's arm and just used one hand on each of them to completely tickle them to death.

He couldn't believe he spaced out, and didn't even hear Peter and the others had stopped their tickle war. He had been completely out of it.

"I can't believe he just tied them up in his web! That's torture!" Miles called out. What was he offended for?

"I'm surprised too. Miguel....?" Peter said, giving him some sort of strict dad kind of look. Miguel scoffed and crossed his arms, still a little flustered.

"Yes. Caught in my web, they are indeed. What, isn't that a spider thing too?" he asked casually.

Peter looked at him, at Hobie and Pavitr, then at Miles and Gwen and back at him. He then laughed.

"Technically it is. But in this case, let's just keep them alive hmm?"

"Right," Miguel sighed, and he turned around and freed Hobie and Pavitr with one quick move. The web was already so loose, he wondered if they really were that ticklish or just lacked strength to break free.

The two landed on the floor and struggled to get completely free themselves. Miguel watched and felt embarrassed that he lost control like that, and even more embarrassed when Peter swung an arm around his neck and patted his head.

"Wasn't that fun, Miguel? Wasn't that fun?"

"H-hey! Urgh!" Miguel grunted.

Peter ignored him and simply laughed. "Don't worry about it! I know you liked the game a little too much. But you should keep your sadistic side a little bit under control. They're just kids."

".....So you admit it was a game," Miguel said after a brief pause, shaking Peter off him.

"Ah, yeah, an educational game? Come on, we can have some fun sometimes. That too is a spider-thing."

Miguel glared at all of them. Spiders did not have fun... But these Spider-People did.

"Fine! Continue doing your spider thing then. But! If any of your universes ends up crashing down because you weren't sharp. Don't come crying to me," he said as he stomped towards the door.

"Don't worry Miguel! We'll be veeery sharp after this!" Hobie sang while he left. Ah, even after getting tickled to near-death by him, he still teased Miguel like this.

Something close to vengeance tickled Miguel from the inside, and he smirked. Maybe one day or another, he would join their training again.

But for now, he was going to head to his office, indulge himself in memories with Gabriella, and feel embarrassed forever.

[toast-is-ticklish]

A Lesson In Confidence || Spider-Man: Across The Spider-Verse (2023) Tickle Fic

Summary: Miles doesn't understand how Pavitr so easily admit to his love for tickling; the other hero gives him a lesson in confidence and self-love.

Author's Notes: Oh look, another 'Across The Spider-Verse' fic! There will likely be a few more rolling out over the next week or so; this movie has completely taken over my brain! Anyways, my favorite new spider person was definitely Pavitr, so here's a self indulgent little fic. Also, I have NO IDEA how to write Hobie's accent and I'm LOST on Cockney slang, so sorry in advance.

"How do you do it, man?" Miles asked with exasperation, his cheeks tinged a light red.

Pavitr looked up from his spot on the floor, still giggly from where he had just gotten absolutely WRECKED by Hobie. "Dohoho what, exactly?" The other asked. "Laugh? It's quite easy, especially when Hobie's got you in his clutches."

The punk rock hero snorted from across the room. "It ain't that hard to get you laughin' to begin with, mate."

Miles shook his head, letting out a small huff as his blush depended. "No, I mean how do you...ask for it? Like it's no big deal?"

"Uh, because it IS no big deal! I wanted tickles, I knew Hobs would be more than happy to indulge me, so I asked!"

Miles looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, you're right. It shouldn't be a big deal, should it?" He huffed softly.

Pavitr cocked his head slightly, eyes widening in realization. "Hold the phone, you can't ask for it, can you?"

"Come on, man! Don't tease me about this! It's hard enough to talk about this already!" The other groaned.

"Of course not! I'm not meaning to tease, I'm just surprised! I thought you would be able to, seeing as we all already know how much you like it." Pavitr replied quickly, trying to sooth Miles' nerves. Instead, he made the poor teen's blush two shades darker.

"Not helpin' things, Pav." Hobie chimed, crossing his arms with a little smirk.

Pavitr sat up, his "perfect hair" a fluffy mess from all the squirming he had been doing mere minutes ago. "That's so sad, though! How are we supposed to know when you need them if you don't ask?"

"Hey, Gwen doesn't ask, but you guys seem to know when she needs a good laugh just fine." Miles replied, trying his hardest to deflect the conversation AWAY from himself. Unfortunately, it seemed Pavitr had locked his attention onto MILES. There would be no diverting it now.

"She's different! We've known her long enough to be able to tell when she wants them. You're still new around here; you've gotta let us know when you need a good tickling until we've learned how to pick up on your cues!"

Miles' eyes went a little wider. "C-Cues?" He asked in confusion.

"Yeah, everybody's got 'em. If he doesn't outright ask ya' to tickle him senseless, Pav will annoy you until you're about to blow a gasket." Hobie explained, fiddling with one of his piercings. A new one, Miles noticed. "O'Hara becomes even more of a hard ass, grumblin' and poutin' like a toddler who ain't gotten any sweets."

That caught Miles off guard. Of all the people he would've pegged for liking tickles, Miguel O'Hara would not have been one of them.

"Ohoho yes, he's SO grumpy when he needs a good wrecking!" Pavitr snickered. "But back to YOU, Miles! You've got to learn how to be more confidence in yourself! To learn how to express your needs!"

Miles snorted. "That's easier said than done." No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring himself to ask for tickles. Hell, he had barely managed to tell Gwen that he liked them without bursting into flame.

"It doesn't have to be! I'll help you!" Pavitr beamed. Before Miles could blink, the other was launching himself at him, toppling the hero to the floor.

"Hey! Hold on a second-" Miles yelped, already feeling a nervous little chuckle building in his throat.

"Nope! No more waiting, my friend! We're gonna work at it until you can ask for them whenever you need to!" Pavitr didn't wait another second, hands finding Miles' sides and beginning to squeeze rapidly.

Miles immediately burst into loud giggling. He couldn't help it; Pavitr just HAD to go for one of his weak spots right off the bat! "Nohoho, dohohohohon't!" He whined, his wide grin nearly splitting his face in two.

"Aw, look at him, Hobie! He's all cute and giggly already!" Pavitr sang loudly, fingers squeezing and poking and prodding at Miles' sides in such a chaotic manner, the poor teen couldn't keep up with them.

"Eh, he's alright, I guess." Hobie feigned disinterest, though the small twinkle in his eye and subtle affection to his words betrayed the true amusement he felt at the situation.

"Alright! He's more than just alright! He's downright ADORABLE! You hear that, Miles, you're ADORABLE!" Pavitr moved one hand to latch onto Miles' belly and vibrate into the sensitive skin, earning a little squeal of laughter. "And I'm gonna keep tickling you until you believe it!"

"Nohohohoho, shuhuhuhuhut up! I'm nohohohohot adohohohorable!" Miles snickered frantically, shaking his head. It felt like his cheeks, ears, and neck were on fire, his heart racing at the horrifically teasy words.

"Oh, but you are, my friend! Acknowledging how cute you look is the first step to having the confidence to ask for it!" The other hero replied. Miles shook his head again, faster this time. "No? Still don't believe me? Well, looks like I need to convince you better, hm?"

Miles shrieked as Pavitr's fingers danced upwards, starting to rake across his ribcage. "Nehehehehehahahahaha! Nohohohoho, you dohohohohon't need to dohohohohoho thahahahahat!" He tried to reason with the other; it seemed Pavitr wasn't buying it.

"I think I do! Now, let's see how many ribs this itsy bitsy spider has, shall we?" Pavitr beamed, not waiting for a reply before starting to count loudly. "One, two, three..."

Hobie let out another soft snort. "Takin' my techniques now, are ya?" He chuckled.

"Hey, if it isn't broken, don't fix it!" Pavitr replied, having to yell to be heard over the sound of Miles' hysterical cackles. "Oh dear, it seems I've lost count! I'll have to start over, I'm afraid! One, two..."

Miles let out another squeal of laughter, bucking as he attempted to squirm away. "Plehehehehehease! No cohohohohohounting!" He cried out, eyes crinkled with laughter lines. "I'm adohohohohorable, ohohohohokay! Just no cohohohohounting!"

Pavitr cheered, pulling back with a happy laugh. "There we go! Now we are making some progress!"

Miles curled up, still giggling softly as he caught his breath. "You're sohoho mean..." He snickered.

The other hero shrugged, grinning goofily down at him. "Guilty as charged! But hey, it looks like it's starting to work! Now, let's see if your knees get us MORE progress! Hob, a little help?"

Miles' heart dropped into his stomach as the punk rock hero started to approach, mumbling something about how "he was doing this 'cause he was bored, not 'cause he was told to" or whatever. Miles really couldn't care less WHAT he was saying, all he knew was that things were about to tickle A WHOLE LOT MORE.

And in all honesty, he didn't mind one bit.

Hobie grabbed Miles' arms, pinning them firmly over his head as the other hero moved to staddle his waist. Pavitr placed a hand on each knee, not yet doing anything, but Miles' body didn't seem to care, already on the verge of falling into another giggling fit. "You ready for more, Spider-Man?"

Miles was still nowhere near being able to admit that, yes, he totally was. So instead, he decided to flip them off.

Pavitr let out a gasp as Hobie choked back a laugh. "How rude! We're only trying to help you!" He tutted, beginning to squeeze rapidly at Miles' kneecaps. The teen immediately burst into loud cackling, head thrown back with laughter.

"Kid's got some fight in him, don't he?" Hobie commented. "I like it."

Miles wheezed on a giggly shriek as Pavitr hit a really bad spot by the sides of his kneecaps. Yes, he did have some fight in him, and while this was absolutely having fun, that didn't mean he was just going to lie down and take it.

He concentrated (the rest he could while getting his shit wrecked) on building up a soft electrical charge. Nothing so intense as to hurt, of course, but totally enough to tickle like hell.

When Miles felt a decent amount had been stored up, he shot Pavitr a little smirk between another bout of cackles and jerked on one of his arms HARD, managing to yank it free from Hobie's grip. Without wasting a second, his hand latched onto Pavitr's stomach, the ticklish current of electricity shooting into the exposed sweet spot.

The other immediately burst into a surprised squeal, laughter pouring out as he instinctively curled in on himself. "Hehehehehey, thahahat's cheheheheheheating!"

Hobie smirked. "Ain't cheatin' if we're all superhuman, mate. He's just gettin' a bit creative."

Miles shot the punk hero a mischievous look. "You help me get him, I leave you alone. Sound fair?"

"Hm...yeah, I'll help."

"Hobie!" Pavitr cried dramatically, pouting with a look of pure betrayal on his face. He immediately tried to scramble away, giggles already pouring out of his mouth. "You'll never take me alive!" It was a playful challenge; one they were absolutely going to win.

"You go left, I go right?"

"Sounds good to me, mate. Let's make him squeal, eh?"