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grayishgiggles · 3 months ago

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You are Amazing!

Peter 3 was known to be the pessimist of the trio. When the time comes where he’s doubting his abilities as Spider-Man, Peter 2 steps in to convince him in the silliest way that he’s an amazing Spider-Man.

———

Peter 3 weakly climbed into his apartment through the window and then closed it with a grunt. He slumped down the wall and held his head in his hands. “God…”

Peter 3 had a terrible day. It all started with him breaking a glass bowl when he had cereal, a silly mishap he could’ve avoided. And then on patrol he failed to catch three criminals from the New York drug ring, something he hoped he’d get to the bottom of at this point. And to add insult to injury, the Daily Bugle had just released their most hurtful issue yet on him, titled “Spider-Man Fails and Fails Again,” describing how his heroic feats have only hurt New York rather than helped. Was there seriously ANY news outlet that liked Spider-Man? If there was, Peter 3 hadn’t found it yet.

He didn’t want to get up. He wanted to curl into a ball and sleep on the floor under the window in his dirty suit. It took him a solid 20 seconds to realize he still had his mask on. Peter 3 yanked it off and threw it across the room. He decided to follow through on his plan and flopped on his side, legs tucked into his chest. He didn’t deserve a warm bed tonight, he thought, not after today.

Moments after he shut his eyes, a small swishing sound caught his attention. Opening one eye, he was startled by a bright red-orange portal spinning to life in his living room. Peter 3 recognized the ring, and hid his face in his knees. Out of all days, why did Peter 2 choose today to make a surprise visit?

“Peter 3?” The older man’s voice was followed with soft footsteps getting louder. The portal sounded like it swished away too. “Hey…oh..hey are you okay? What’re you doing down there?”

“What’re you doing here?” Peter 3’s voice was muffled.

“You know how the Peter tingle works. I had a feeling…something was wrong…so now I’m here.”

Peter 2 kneeled to Peter 3’s level. “Bad day?” The younger one nodded. Peter 2 offered a hand. “It’s okay bud. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“…okay.” Peter 3 sighed shakily and unfurled himself to grab the oldest’s hand. With his face exposed, it was easy to notice tears pooling in his eyes and his lip quivering. Peter 2’s heart broke at the sight of it.

“Aw buddy…” He pulled the other Spider-Man into a warm embrace and joining him on the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

Peter 3 broke, his strength melting as he let himself be held in Peter 2’s arms, hiccuping. “I-I dunno what…what I’m d..”

“Shhh..” the oldest Peter hushed him softly, rubbing his back. “You’re okay. You’re okay. It’s alright..”

“I…” he hiccuped, “I can’t d-do anything right.”

“Hey now…don’t be mean to yourself. You’re in a bad spot.” With Peter 3 so close to him, he couldn’t help but catch the scent of sweat, dirt, and smoke. He wrinkled his nose. “Oh man…yeah let’s get up and get you clean. You’ve had a long night.”

After a much needed shower and Peter 2 preparing some cinnamon toast with black tea, Peter 3 was feeling a bit better. Being out of his suit sure helped too, now in some of his comfy pajamas. He munched at the toast quietly, sitting on the edge of his bed with the plate. Holy shit, this was the best toast he’d ever had. Peter 2 sat beside him, watching but trying not to make it awkward. He cleared his throat.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better…” he said through chewing.

“That’s good, that’s good.” A beat passed. “Do you wanna talk about what’s been going on?”

Peter 3 hesitated, then nodded. Most of the time he would’ve refused but he knew with his older brother he wouldn’t get away with that. “Yeah..lemme finish this.” He took another bite of toast.

“Take your time.” Peter 2 nodded:

“You need to make more of this.”

Peter 2 snorted. “I will, don’t worry.”

Once finished and placing the plate on the floor, he inhaled slowly. “I’ve been off my game so much lately. I feel really…not good..when I’m out there. And today was just…” his face crinkled in frustration, “it sucked. Legit everything about it sucked and I’m…I’m having a hard time believing that this is what I’m supposed to do.”

“What do you think you’re supposed to do?”

“I dunno,” he chuckled sadly, “that’s the thing. Am I supposed to..to be just Peter Parker who does an internship at Oscorp with no real job or am I just Spider-Man…who can’t save anyone at this point?!”

“Well that isn’t true.” Peter 2 remarked.

He shook his head. “It’s like everyday I get a new reason to believe I don’t deserve to be Spider-Man.” Peter 3 laughed.

“What did you just say about yourself?” Peter 2 turned his head to the side.

“I said…I..I don’t deserve to be Spider-Man.” The tallest Peter shrugged, avoiding his brother’s gaze. He meant for the comment to be humorous but repeating it louder made him tear up. He didn’t wanna believe it about himself but he couldn’t help it.

“Oh no no no no no, we are not saying that about ourselves.” Peter 2’s big brother instincts kicked in. What happened next wasn’t what Peter 3 was expecting. A second later Peter 3 was in a cradling hug in Peter 2’s lap. “You deserve to be Spider-Man.”

“Oh..” Peter 3 froze. He had never been hugged like this before. It was a tad awkward since he was the taller of the two…but he couldn’t help but slowly curl up. For once he was being cared for. “This is n-nice..” The new sense of security opened the floodgates for him as he buried his face in his brother’s shirt.

“You’re okay, Pete. You’re Spider-Man for a reason…we all are. It’s the special thing about this job,” Peter 2 reassured with a few back rubs. “You’re an amazing Spider-Man.”

“Th-thank you..” choked out Peter 3.

“Of course. Even Spider-Man needs saved sometimes.” Remarked the oldest as Peter 3 took his time to cry. “Let it all out.”

The gentle silence and sounds of sobbing and kind words lasted a good ten minutes. Peter 2’s shirt was wet from Peter 3’s tears, but he didn’t mind.

“How are you holding up, bud?” He asked. Peter 3 slowly pulled away from his chest and swallowed. “That felt good.”

Peter 2 smiled softly. “Yeah, it helps to get it all out, huh?”

“Mhm..” Peter 3 wiped his face. He remained in Peter 2’s lap.

“You know…I had a point in my life where I quit being Spider-Man.”

Peter 3 blinked. “What?”

Peter 2 nodded. “Yeah. Spider-Man’s work was getting in the way of Peter Parker’s life and…it was a lot. Probably my rock bottom. For a small period I even lost my powers.”

“No. You’re lying.”

“I’m serious. It was so weird.”

“That’s..that’s crazy,” Peter 3 let out a small chuckle of surprise.

“I know, right?” Laughed Peter 2. He continued, “so…yeah I had that whole problem and for quite a bit, I quit putting on the mask. I thought I wasn’t meant to be Spider-Man. Everything was just going wrong for me. I nearly gave up.”

“But…I had a moment where I realized that people really do need me. No matter what, Spider-Man was and is gonna be a part of me. It goes for you too. People need and love you, Peter 3. It may be hard to see it, at times, but they’re out there. One of em’s here right now, because I need and love you.”

Peter 3’s lip began quivering again and he quickly wiped away incoming tears. He let out a laugh and buried his face in Peter 2’s chest again. “You’re good at the..the whole comforting positive vibes thing…you should do a TED talk or…or something.”

The oldest smiled hearing the quippy remark. “I dunno what that is, but I’ll think about it.” He gave the younger one a good few pats on the back. A small spark of mischief fluttered in his heart. “Can you…humor me with something?”

“Hm?”

“Just..hold on, just lie down.” Peter 2 gently turned Peter 3 around in his lap, his back resting on his chest. “Yeah, like that.”

“Wh-whahat’re you doing?” Now Peter 3 was leaning back against Peter 2.

“I want you to say that you’re amazing.”

“You’re amazing.”

Peter 2 frowned at Peter 3’s smug grin. “No. You tell me that you are amazing!”

Peter 3 groaned. “No, that’s stupid.” He tried to sit up but the oldest gently pushed him back down, his hands resting on his shoulders. “It’s not stupid, it’s positive affirmation. Now say you’re amazing, because you are!”

“This is like the whole talk we had in the scaffolding all over again..”

“It is, and I’ll keep doing it,” Peter 2 wagged a finger. “Now say it, cause I’m not letting you go until you genuinely say that you’re amazing.”

Peter 3 groaned. “What if I just bit your hand?”

“That would be weird.”

“You’ve been cradling me for like 20 minutes. That’s not weird?”

“No, cause I know us Peters love physical affection like that!” Peter 2 answered.

Peter 3 pursed his lips. “Okay, you got me there.”

Peter 2 sighed, his hands resting on Peter 3’s stomach. “That’s it. No more stalling.”

Peter 3’s tingle didn’t need to go off for him to grab at his older brother’s wrists with a nervous smile. “W-wait what’re you doing?”

“Say you’re amazing.”

“Gehet your hands off!”

“Why? Is this making you nervous?” Peter 2’s resting fingers curled into claws. That small movement got Peter 3 to burst into nervous giggling.

“Yehehehes!”

“Don’t be!” Peter 2 chirped, his fingers gently wiggling at Peter 3’s tummy. The younger Peter bucked his hips in an attempt to get away, but his position kept him trapped. “NAHAHoho no no not thiHIHIS!!”

“There we go!” Exclaimed Peter 2. “All it takes is some tummy tickles, huh? To get you all smiley n cute?”

Peter 3’s smile kept plastered on his face and his hands continued yanking at Peter 2’s wrists. His legs curled inward but that didn’t do too much. It only made him look cuter. He didn’t think Peter 2 would stoop down to tickling the crap outta him over something like this. Three minutes ago he was crying like a baby and now he’s giggling like a little kid. What a turn of events.

Each of Peter 2’s fingers were gently poking and prodding around, which tickled a ton more than he expected. “PleheheheeEEEASE NOHO MORE!!”

“Say you’re amazing and I’ll stop!”

“Thihihis is sohOHO DUMB-AAAANONONO!!” Peter 3 squealed. Peter 2 had snuck a hand under his shirt and begun scratching at his lower ribs. He arched his back, pushing against Peter 2’s chest. “STAHAHAP!!”

“You know what you gotta say to make me stop.”

“YOHOURE A JERK!”

“No, I’m Spider-Man, and you’re Spider-Man! And we. Are. Both. Amazing!” He punctuated each word with a pinch on each rib going upwards.

“GEHET OFF OF MYHY RIBS!!” He hiccuped.

“I will once someone says something I told them to say.”

Yeah, Peter 2 wasn’t gonna let this go. At this point Peter 3 could easily just admit it but…did he want this to stop? Did he want to stop laughing? Peter 2 was right about the physical affection thing: Peter Parkers from all dimensions crave it. Do they all like being tickled though? Wait…does Peter 3 like being tickled?! No, that’s silly. Who likes being tickled?!

…Peter Parker, that’s who.

“N-NEHEVERRRR!!”

“Say it! Say it! Say it!” Peter 2 kept repeating, both hands of his under his shirt giving rib jabs to emphasize the point. Peter 3 squeaked at each one, except for when he felt a zap to one of his middle-bottom ribs. He squawked at that one.

Peter 2 had to stop and gave a curious glance at Peter 3’s torso. “What was that?” He gave a pinch to the same rib. Peter 3 jerked to one side.

“EEP-! Wahait wait wait nO!”

“Oooohhohohoh did I find a sweet spot?!” Peter 2 drilled a thumb into this brand new area.

“PFFAAA-!” Peter 3 was cackling, his arms no longer fighting back but weakly hugging one of Peter 2’s arms. “NOHO! NOOOO PLEASE!!”

“Say you’re amazing!” The oldest brother singsonged. The fact that he said it like that got Peter 3’s face to flush in an instant.

“NOHO!”

“Say ittttt!!” He kept doing the singsong thing.

“STAHAP DOING THAT!”

“Just say you’re amazing, cause you aaaare!” Peter 2’s fingers turned into claws, vibrating at his younger brother’s very ticklish rib. Peter 3’s cackles got hiccupy and more squeaky.

“OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAY-!” He choked out. “IHIHI’M AMAZING!!”

Peter 2 stopped. “You mean it?” He took his hand out from under Peter 3’s shirt.

“M-mhm-“

The older brother hovered five wiggling fingers over his face. “Say it again!”

“IHI’m amazing..I’m amazing!! I-I mean it!” Peter 3 hid his face in Peter 2’s chest, now a pile of giggly goo. “Ihihihi promise!!”

Peter 2 slowly lowered the claw, his tickle attack finished. “Good. Cause you are amazing.” Watching his younger brother recover and rest in his arms made him sigh happily. He gave a warm smile.

“I-Ihi am..” Peter 3 admitted. That one was genuine, and letting those words sink in helped him slow his breathing down. “Yeah…I’m amazing.”

“How are you feeling?” Peter 2 gently ruffled his hair. “Other than probably wanting to kill me?”

“Nah nah..I-Ihi don’t wanna kill you…” Peter 3 panted, “that was just..wow. You’re good at the..the..”

“Being a tickle monster?” Peter 2 finished with an amused grin.

“Yeah…wait don’t call yourself thahat.” Peter 3 covered his face in his hands. “That’s stupid.”

“Well too bad. I’m no longer Peter 2, I’m the tickle monster,” he chuckled, “just wait till I get Peter 1 whenever he gets all grumpy.”

“Oh no you’d kill him!” Peter 3 laughed. “Spare the boy, please!”

Both Peters laughed for a moment. Peter 3 sighed, then swallowed, letting the humor in the air dissipate a little. “Yeah..that was uh…I dunno that was kinda fun.”

“Fun? You getting tickled?” The oldest asked, trying to act surprised. He knew his brothers well enough to know when they were enjoying themselves.

Peter 3 half-shrugged, blushing. “…yeah.”

Peter 2 couldn’t help but smirk. “You just gave me a free pass to tickle you whenever now. I hope you know that.” He ruffled his hair a little more and let him out of the cuddle they were in.

Peter 3 groaned as he stretched, “yeahhh..whatever. I’m amazing.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He patted the younger one’s back. “You wanna sleep?”

Peter 3 blinked and took a glance at his alarm clock. About 12 AM. He could feel sleep’s hand tugging at his shirt now that all the adrenaline was fading. Peter 3 nodded and flopped back on his bed.

“Okay you’re not snoozing without the covers. C’mon, get a move on.” Peter 2 gently poked his side. He didn’t need anymore of a prompt to hop out of bed and pull the covers down. “AahhHH okay okay!!”

Now tucked in, Peter 3 curled up on his side. “You can stay here if you wanna.” Peter 2 was fiddling with his portal device, prepared to depart. He turned around. “Hm?”

“You can..you can stay. It could be like a sleepover or somethin, I dunno.” Peter 3 shrugged.

“Well…” Peter 2 thought for a second, “yeah. Yeah I’ll stay, bud.” He pursed his lips. “I might need to uh…get pajamas though. Could you give me like 10 minutes?”

“Yeah that works.” Peter 3 gave a thumbs up from under the covers.

Peter 2 turned his attention to the portal device, and a few seconds later a ring of orange fired upon the wall into Peter 2’s living room. “I’ll be back,” he said.

And so, the oldest Peter hurried through his home, up the stairs, into his room. Tiptoeing past the bed where MJ was sleeping, he grabbed some flannel pants and an old t-shirt.

Peter 2 stepped back through the portal. “And I’m ba-!” He cut himself off, the ring of sparks dissipating behind him. Peter 3 was sound asleep, in his blanket cocoon breathing steadily.

Peter 2’s heart swelled at the sight. He changed into his pajamas in the bathroom and returned, now hovering beside the bed. He placed a hand on the younger one’s head and whispered, “sleep tight.”

Not wanting to wake him, Peter 2 took a pillow and set it on the floor beside Peter 3’s bed. He had brought a blanket from his home to wrap himself up in.

As he laid and stared at the ceiling peacefully, he chuckled to himself. It was funny, now he was the Spider-Man who decided to sleep on the floor that night.

#Spider-Man no way home #lee!peter3 #Ler!peter2 #tickle fic #spiderman tickle #the amazing spiderman #sfw tickle community #sfw tickle fic #minors dni #tickle fanfic #ticklish!spiderman

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sunstone-smiles · 1 year ago

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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.

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #atsv lyla #lyla spiderverse #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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tickles-tea · 1 year ago

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Someone on twitter tweeted about Miguel in the Man Ray tickle belt and I am Unwell™️

I need this like I need oxygen

#I haven’t been the same since reading that #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #tickling

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gladdygirl18 · 1 year ago

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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

Miles, Pavitr, and Hobie. These three have grown very close throughout what's been going on. They were like brothers; they could rely on one another. When they're not swinging around saving their universe's cities, the three teens can be found having races around Brooklyn to see who's faster or bickering over what music is better. However, there is one thing that Hobie and Pavitr love doing that Miles hates: hazing Brooklyn's Spiderman.

Amongst these three, Miles is the youngest, making him the little brother of the group. Hobie and Pavitr love poking fun at the young Spiderman and hazing him; it's an unspoken rule amongst siblings, and the two older teens know it well.

"Hey, Miles! Don't forget your umbrella, or you might get washed away by the rain!" Pavitr teased one day.

"Hey, kid. Drink more milk; it'll make you big 'n' strong." Hobie said one day with a grin.

Miles didn't mind them teasing him or poking fun at him, but sometimes it can get a bit annoying. He appreciated Hobie and Pavitr's company, and with the tension between him and his parents, having his brothers to comfort and console him was more than he could ever ask for, and he was grateful to have them in his life. But damn, was their teasing flustering. Any tease, whether being called cute or a little joke, his cheeks always heat up, and Hobie and Pavitr find it so endearing. However, there is one form of hazing that Hobie and Pavitr love to use on Miles, but they only use it when the young teen is in a foul mood.

Like today, for example. It was a warm afternoon in Pavitr's dimension, and Miles was down in the dumps. Why? How the hell would I know? Anyone who asked if he was okay, Brooklyn's Spiderman responded with an, "I'm fine..." in a very monotone voice. Miles had come over to Pavitr's dimension to hang with him and Hobie to hopefully lighten his mood, but nothing worked. The young Spiderman sat on a windowsill, looking at beautiful Mumbattan. Inside was a concerned Pavitr and a confused Hobie.

"He's never like this, Hobs," Pavitr whispered, "What's up with him?"

"Askin' the wrong person, mate," Hobie deadpanned, glancing at Miles, "But, yeah, I gotta agree with ya; he's never like this."

Hobie's confused state was slowly turning into one of concern.

"Well, what can we do to help him?" Pavitr asked, determined to make Miles better again, "Seeing him like this... just doesn't sit right with me."

Hobie agreed with a silent nod. As a warm breeze came through the window, Pavitr got an idea.

"I know how to cheer him up!" Pavitr exclaimed.

He reached over and whispered his idea to Hobie, and the Spider Punk's grin grew sinister.

"I like the way you think," Hobie said, "Let's do it."

With a firm nod, the two older teens approached the sulking teen. Miles sighed before his spidey senses went off. He glanced behind him to see the other two coming over, only to look back at the Mumbattan cityscape.

"Hey, buddy," Pavitr began, "You doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine..." Miles said sadly.

Pavitr didn't believe him for a second. India's Spiderman sighed before sitting beside him on the window sill and wrapping an arm around the kid's shoulders.

"I know you, Miles," Pavitr said, "क्या गलत है, छोटे भाई?"

"What?" Miles questioned.

"He asked, 'What's wrong, little brother?'" Hobie deadpanned as he waltzed towards the duo.

Hobie leaned against the window sill on Miles' opposite side.

"Nothing is wrong, okay?" Miles questioned, "I'm fine, so can you guys please get off my back?"

The attitude in Miles' voice surprised Pavitr but impressed Hobie.

"So, the lil' spider does have some venom in his fangs," Hobie commented with a grin, "I salute that."

Not even a grin. Hobie called Miles that many times and it always made him smile and blush, but nothing happened.

"Aw, come on, spiderling!" Pavitr said, "Smile for us, please?"

Pavitr put on his best puppy-dog eyes and stared at Miles. Brooklyn's Spiderman didn't even glance at him. Now the other two were worried.

"Okay, you are definitely not Miles." Pavitr said suddenly.

"What are you talking about?" Miles questioned, finally glancing at India's Spiderman.

"I gotta agree with Pavi," Hobie said, straightening his posture, "The Miles I know can be a stubborn lil' shit sometimes, but never like this."

Miles groaned before shaking his head and turning back to the cityscape.

"You guys are ridiculous." Miles muttered.

The other two glanced at each other and shared a knowing look.

"Okay, that's it," Pavitr said, "We're getting our little brother back, no matter what."

"What are you on about now?" Miles asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

Before Miles could ask anything further, Hobie pulled the teen back by his shoulders and into his chest. Miles let out a surprised yelp as he struggled in Hobie's grip.

"What the hell, Hobie?" Miles asked, "Let me go!"

"Not a chance in hell, kid," Hobie said, "You've been the worst funk I've ever seen; more funky than stink on shit."

The joke made Pavitr laugh, but it made Miles more annoyed. When the two noticed this, the others grinned at each other before looking at their little brother. The grins on their faces made Miles nervous.

"W-Why are you guys grinning like that?" Miles asked.

"Because it's natural for us to do. Something you, mister, forgot about." Pavitr said, pointing at Miles.

"So, to help bring that smile back on your face..." Hobie said as his grip around Miles tightened.

The gears in Miles' head turned before he realized what they were about to do.

"Oh, no, you don't!" Miles panicked, "Let me go, damn it!"

"Feisty, are we?" Pavitr said, waltzing over to the squirming teen, "We can fix that, right, Hobie?"

"Right." Hobie agreed with a grin.

Before Miles could protest, Pavitr started skittering his fingers up and down Miles's sides, eliciting surprised giggles from Brooklyn's Spiderman. Remember that hazing technique that Hobie and Pavitr love to use on Miles? Yeah, this is it. Tickling Brooklyn's Spiderman has become a weekly thing between the three. Sure, Miles gets them back every once in a while, but all the attention is on him. And right now, Miles has Hobie and Pavitr's full, undivided attention.

"Pavihihihihihi! Nohohoho!" Miles giggled, "Stohohohop!"

"No way!" Pavitr claims, "You've been in such a bad mood almost all day; you need this!"

"Nohohoho, I-I dohohohon't!"

"I beg to differ, mate." Hobie said from behind.

Brooklyn's Spiderman struggled against the older teen's grip, but his giggling sapped him of his strength.

"Come ohohohoooon!" Miles whined, "This isn't fahahahahair!"

"It may not be fair, but it is needed," Pavitr said, "And we're not stopping until you tell us what's got you so down in the dumps."

"I told yohohohou! I'm fihihihihine!"

"That's what they all say." Hobie said.

Continuing to hold Miles, Hobie started to scratch his fingers in Miles' armpits, causing the teen to yelp and stomp his feet against the wooden floor.

"Hobihihihihihihie! Stahahahahap!" Miles cackled.

"Oh, please; you're not dying," Hobie deadpanned, "No need to be dramatic."

"I am dyihihihihihing!"

The older teens couldn't help but chuckle. When Pavitr moved his hands to Miles' belly, the teen's knees grew weak as his laughter brought him to the floor, but that didn't stop Hobie and Pavitr from following him down. Now Miles was sitting on the floor with Hobie restraining him and Pavitr tickling him. Brooklyn's Spiderman scraped his heels against the floor as he tried to find some way to escape.

"Plehehehehase! Leave me alohohohohone!" Miles giggled.

"Are you gonna tell us what's wrong?" Pavitr asked, leaning in close.

When Miles shook his head, India's Spiderman sighed before dropping his hands to Miles' hips, eliciting a squeal and a soft buck.

"That feheheheheels so weheheheheird!" Miles exclaimed.

"Yeah, it's called bein' ticklish, mate," Hobie said, stopping his tickling to tighten his grip, "So, are ya gonna tell us what's been biting your ass all day?"

"Nohohohoho! There's nothing to tehehehehell!"

Pavitr rolled his eyes before moving his hands up to tickle Miles' armpits. Miles' snorted before letting out a loud laugh.

"NOHOHOHO! NOT THEHEHEHERE!" Miles laughed, "STOP, STAHAHAHAHAP!"

"Are you gonna confide in us and tell us what's been eating you?" Pavitr inquired.

"NOHOHOHOHO!"

"There's that stubbornness," Hobie said with a smile, "Ya love to see it."

Miles was too busy laughing to hear anything the others were saying. However, Brooklyn's Spiderman suddenly felt that heaviness leave his heart. Whatever horrible feeling that was plaguing him was gone.

"COME OHOHOHON!" Miles laughed, "YOU AHAHAHAHSSHOHOHOLES! STAHAHAP IHIHIT!"

"What did you just call us?" Pavitr asked.

Without hesitation, India's Spiderman started vibrating his hands across the teen's ribs, sending the kid into a frenzy of laughter.

"NAHAHAHAAAA! NAAAHAHAAAT THEHEHEHERE!" Miles cried, thrashing in Hobie's grip, "SHIHIHIT! LET ME GOHOHOHO!"

"Well, someone's certainly spitting venom today," Hobie said, "I like that."

Miles slammed his legs against the floor in ticklish agony, throwing his head back against the Spider Punk's shoulder and laughing freely, all while trying to free himself from this.

"PLEHEHEHEHASE! LET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHOO!" Miles laughed.

"Aww, and why would we do that?" Pavitr asked in a baby voice, "Does it tickle? Huh, does it tickle, tickle, tickle, little brother?"

Miles felt his cheeks heat up when Pavitr teased him.

"NOHOHOHO TEASIHIHIHIHIHING!" Miles cried, "THAHAHT'S NOT FAHAHAHAIR!"

"Sure it is," Hobie said, "Tickling and teasing go hand-in-hand like Bonnie and Clyde. Can't have one without the other."

Miles couldn't stop the snort that escaped, causing the other two to laugh along with him.

"That was so cute!" Pavitr swooned.

"NO, IT WAHAHAHAHASN'T!" Miles laughed, "PLEHEHEHASE! PAVIHIHIHIHI! STOHOHOP TICKLIHIHIHIHING MEHEHEHE!"

"Are you gonna tell us what's wrong?" Hobie asked.

Miles groaned through his laughter, but when Pavitr reached his top rib, Miles broke.

"FRIHIHIHIHIHIHICK! FINE, FIHIHIHIHIHIHINE!" Miles cried, "I'LL TALK, I'LL TAHAHAHAHAHALK! PLEASE JUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!"

When the older teens nodded to one another, Pavitr removed his hands from Miles' body, leaving the young teen to slump against Hobie and pant. Though Hobie didn't release Mile's right away, Brooklyn's Spiderman felt the older teen's grip loosen. After catching his breath, he patted Hobie's arm, signaling him to release him. When Hobie did, Miles sat up and sighed as he glanced at the older teens.

"I honestly don't know what was wrong with me today," Miles said, "I guess I was just having an off day, y'know? Like, you just feel upset for no reason."

Pavitr and Hobie nodded in understanding.

"I get that," Pavitr said, "We all have off days; it's a natural thing, especially for us spider-people."

Hobie nodded in agreement. Miles breathed out a chuckle as he glanced between the other two.

"Thanks, guys," Miles said, "I really needed that."

Pavitr smiled before wrapping an arm around the younger teen.

"Anytime, little brother," Pavitr said, "We'll always be there for you!"

Hobie grinned as he ruffled Miles' hair.

"Yeah, kid," Hobie said, "If something is goin' on, tell us, or we'll be forced to use extreme measures."

Miles got the hint when a mischievous look crossed the Spider Punk's face.

"M-Message received." Miles said.

Pavitr grinned before standing up and walking over to the window.

"There's still some light left," Pavitr said, grabbing his mask, "Wanna go for a swing?"

The other two nodded before putting on their masks and vaulting out the window behind Pavitr, swinging around beautiful Mumbattan for the remainder of the afternoon. This was the Miles Morales that Pavitr and Hobie missed, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, with a hint of stubbornness and sassiness. After what happened, the older teens can confidently say that they got their little brother back.

#tickle fic #spider-man: across the spider-verse #spider-man: across the spider-verse spoilers #spider-man: across the spider-verse tickle fic #sfw tickle community

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hexalianrebel-blackfeathers · 8 months ago

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Twinning

Panda’s Notes: Started this one in August last year. Could be wishful thinking, but I hope the boys get along when it's all over. Hope you guys like it. >w<

[Ao3] || [Commissions] || [Ko-fi]

Miles Morales was down in the garage hidden below his uncle’s apartment. He nodded along to the beat coming through his headphones, humming the tune as he dismantled a motorcycle that he’d swiped after a fight with some cartel goons. If he took it apart fast enough, he wouldn’t have to tell his uncle how he’d gotten it back to base. He’d drained the gas and oil already, and he’d trashed most of the outer casings—If he wanted decorative junk, he could hit the body shop whenever—now, he was ripping the engine apart, switching between the wrenches and screwdrivers laid out beside him by just the feel of the handles.

He might have ignored his phone buzzing the first time. If it didn’t ring, it wasn’t his mom, and it wasn’t a worry. When it buzzed a fourth time within 20 minutes, he realized something was probably happening. He sucked his teeth as he wiped his hands down; the bike wasn’t exactly ripped up enough to say he’d gotten it from the scrapyard, but it would have to do if someone was looking for him. He tossed the towel aside and picked up his phone, tapping in his code and glancing the newest notifications—What the hell…?

Aaron: [Ayo, come get your cousin] Aaron: [He gettin on my last nerve] Me: [my wat]

His uncle didn’t respond. At least, he didn’t respond fast enough for the new rush of confusion that was filling Miles’ head. He grabbed his jacket and took the stairs two at a time. He was joking; he had to be. Right? Seriously… But, even then, who the hell would it be dropping in without giving Aaron time to…warn… him…?

Hm…

When he got up to the apartment, he might have slipped into Prowler mode without meaning to. Time slowed to a crawl, and all of the world became that one instant as he took in every altered piece of the room he could: There were two pizza boxes and a box of soda cans on the table beside the window. He didn’t recognize the brands on either of them. The punching bag was hoisted higher off the floor than he remembered, and the record player was spinning another old R&B track.

“Tio?” He called, slowly stepping forward. “Uncle Aaron!”

“Yeah, man?” His gaze whipped to the couch, and Aaron was just…there. He sat on the couch, using a game controller to beckon Miles closer as he sipped from a cup. “You good?”

Miles pouted, and his uncle smirked slightly; Aaron knew it would take nothing short of a bomb going off to pull him away from whatever thing he was tinkering with if he was in the garage. It wouldn’t be the first time a metaphorical one was used, but he hadn’t thought Aaron would lie to him like this.

“M’fine.” Miles insisted with a huff, reaching to close the door. “The hell was that text though? Just because I’m busy doesn’t mean you have t—”

The second the door clicked shut, Miles thought he heard a step behind him. Before he could spin around, he was bear-hugged from behind and lifted up. His legs flailed as he shouted, and he tried to swing his head back against whoever held him.

“Happy to see you too, tough guy.” Miles recognized that voice, and all the panic transformed into that funny emotion smack between relief and incomparable rage.

Of course it was him.

He heaved a sigh before muttering several strings of Spanish curses under his breath, and Aaron laughed a bit as he looked back at them.

-----------------

“So, this is my cousin now?” Miles—um, Earth-42 Miles? Uh, 42? Sure—42 asked in a huff once all three of them were on the couch with pizza on paper plates and colored cups filled with ice and soda.

Miles—1610 Miles. Yes, it was his turn with his own name—smirked around a bite of pizza and reached behind their uncle’s head to push him lightly. “Picking up a lot of attitude toward the guy who brought you free lunch.”

42 slapped his hand away, hiding the little grin on his face with his cup. “Nobody invited your sneaky ass to crawl all over our ceiling.”

“Uh, my ceiling? Thank you.” Aaron interjected, reaching back to smack both of their arms from behind his head. “And you left your little communicator up here when you went down to work. I told him he could drop in.”

“Ugggh, why?” 42 put on the most exaggerated tone, unable to resist the grin that took over his face as Aaron and Miles gave him almost matching looks. “You know I can’t stand him.”

Aaron just shrugged, and Miles put on that offended look. “He had pizza. And you needed to get out of that garage. I know you skipped breakfast this morning.”

42 was about to argue when Miles butt in. “Oho, you skipped breakfast?! I know Mami was pissed.”

“Best believe. She texted me probably the second he left.” Aaron gently elbowed 42’s side. “She knew you were coming over; you don’t got anywhere better to be? No cute little dates with that Ganke boy?”

Miles nearly choked as 42 tried to shout over both of them. “You’re dating Ganke?!”

“Ey, ey, ey! We—ugh! We haven’t put labels on it yet, alright?!” He insisted, blushing madly. “What’s it to you anyway, you ain’t met him!”

“Dude, I have a Ganke; he’s my roommate at school. My best friend.”

“Ew, you live in one of those shoebox rooms? Could not be me.”

“Deflecting!” Miles pointed aggressively and laughed around some comments in broken Spanish while 42 sipped smugly and looked away.

“What about you though? You kissed your boy yet?” Aaron asked without looking at either of them.

42 coughed hard as Miles balked. “Aaron!!” It was almost eerie how their voices were exactly the same sometimes. Aaron just snickered, tossing his game controller casually onto the table.

“Ya’ll do a lot of bickering for supposedly being the same person.” He chuckled, crossing his arms.

42 rolled his eyes, wiping the side of his mouth. “Please. I’m still not convinced it’s not some kind of bullshit half the time. As if I’m anything like this goody-two-shoes dork.”

Miles snorted, crossing his arms. “Is that really all you got, eh? Disney channel lookin’ ass.”

“You wanna fuckin’ go, cuz?” 42 pulled his legs up onto the couch, attempting to lunge at Miles when Aaron caught him around the waist. He flailed for a moment, and Miles sneered. “Ay, let me go; the punk has it coming anyw—Wait, wait, don’t you dare!”

Aaron had shifted one hand, letting his fingers crawl gently on the back of 42’s ribs just below his shoulder blades. And Miles’ face lit up in shock as his doppelganger fell into near-hysterical laughter.

“No way, seriously?!” He snorted, and Aaron gave a slight smirk as he tried to keep his flailing nephew from squirming away from him.

“Oh, you’re surprised?” He chuckled, scribbling up between 42’s shoulders and pulling him close before he could flail his shrieky self onto the floor. “His mom always called it—”

“Angel Wings!” Miles said at the same time as Aaron, laughing softly as his eyes lit up at the memory. “Man, I can’t believe it; that never worked on me.”

42 glared at both of them as he was more or less dropped back onto the couch cushion, and Miles couldn’t tell if it was just anger or a sort of envy. “Bullshit. You have to be fuckin’ lying.”

“Pfft, well—” Miles stammered a bit, looking away in slight embarrassment. “Not half as bad as it gets you, clearly—Hey!” He dodged to one side as an unopened soda can launched past his head, barely managing to snag it with his web shooter before it hit something.

“’Ey, chill.” Aaron said lightly, sneaking another tickle on 42’s back as he wrapped his arm around him. “Wildin’ out all the time… Staying in that garage all day is not helping you relax.”

“I don’t need to relax!” 42 barked out suddenly, only to cringe and cross his arms as he pouted. He took a few deep breaths, sighing when Aaron pat him on the head.

“Somethin�� you need to talk about?”

42 glanced between the two of them, and Miles leaned slightly to see his face. He let out a final sigh and shook his head. “Just stressed…” He admitted with a shrug. “Tired, maybe?”

Aaron hummed, nodding as he squeezed 42’s shoulder.

Miles let out a sigh of his own, setting down his cup before resting his chin on one hand. “Think we should call Ganke to cuddle with you?” He asked gently, letting the smirk grow on his face at the incredulous look 42 gave him.

“Nah, yeah, that’s three strikes.” Aaron chuckled, shrugging when Miles balked. “You can kill him.”

42 sneered, and Miles flailed slightly, about to run off when Aaron sneakily grabbed his ankle. His escape was disrupted just enough that 42 was able to tackle him off of the couch. They wrestled for a moment, with Miles quickly gaining the upper hand with his Spider strength…right up until 42 shoved his hands under Miles’ arms. Miles shrieked, pulling his arms in tight and kicking against the floor as he cackled. 42 balked for a second, his eyes and smile brightening.

“No fuckin’ way; you were actually right, you little shit.” He laughed, pressing his thumbs into Miles’ ribs.

“I-I’m taller than you!” Miles managed out between his laughter.

“You—!”

Aaron chuckled as Miles squealed, and he grabbed his game controller again while they fought. It wasn’t much of a fight for long—one of them did have super-strength, after all—but it was nice that his nephews were finally having fun.

#a panda writes a thing #tickling #miles morales #miles morales prowler #42!miles #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #aaron davis #spiderverse tickle

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

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TickleTober Day 22 - Ticklish Kiss

I really wanted to do something for these two, they’re so wholesome and cute together! (>w<) I had something planned for them at the beginning of the month-ish, just never got around to writing it. I love writing for this fandom, the spiderkids make my brain happy. I hope everyone has had a great month, and that you Enjoy!

Lee: Pavitr

Ler: Gayatri

Summary: Pavitr was waiting for his girlfriend on the rooftop. It was a chillier day than normal in Mumbai, and Pavitr could do with some warming up. Gayatri helped out, but her warming affections have a tickly twist.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

The cool wind blew through Pavitr’s hair, sending goosebumps running down his neck and arms. It was 68 degrees outside, sure, but the temperature typically didn’t drop below 80. He wasn’t cold, but the young hero wished he had a jacket to go over his suit. The barefoot design was definitely coming back to haunt him…

A squeaking door interrupted his thoughts, his girlfriend joining him on the rooftop. Gayatri was beautiful as ever, wearing a thicker flannel jacket, dark top, purple jeans and a beanie. It took all the chilly teen had to not stare. He tried to sound smooth in his greeting, but his teeth chattered as he spoke. “H-hey girl. You l-look lovely.”

She laughed, the sound a wonderful symphony to Pav’s ears. He loved her smile, her laugh, her lips, her hair, her- “Pav, घाम, you’re staring.” She had to tease him, it was required of her as his girlfriend. She did, however, notice the shake of his voice. “Are you alright?”

A red hue lit up on his masked cheeks as she caught him. She was just so amazing; how could he not stare? “Sorry. And yes, I’m fine. Just…wishing the suit was a bit thicker.”

Gayatri couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his cute predicament. She loved his intricate suit, even though it wasn’t the most practical. There was no way she was giving up her warm flannel, but she had another way to help. “It’s okay, I was teasing. Want me to warm you up?”

He nodded rapidly, knowing what she meant. “Yes please!” He had just breaked from patrol, and being suited up, the rooftops were really the only places they could hang out without getting caught. It was chilly, but it worked.

Okay, that was cute. Honestly, everything he did was cute. Gayatri moved to the edge of the rooftop, sitting right beside him. She pulled off his mask, watching the small hairs on his neck prickle in the cool air. Adorable. She pressed a few gentle kisses to his neck, her heart melting as he squeaked.

He bit his lip, trying to sit still and enjoy the kisses. He did scoot farther away from the edge of the roof, not wanting his girl to potentially fall. He would obviously catch her before anything happened, but why tempt fate? Her tickly lips made it awfully hard not to squirm, though…

“G-Gaya!” He didn’t protest, didn’t tell her to stop; just whined. She found that to be tooth-rottingly sweet. “What? I am just trying to warm my wonderful partner up.” The blush on his cheeks only deepened; she knew exactly what she was doing. She also knew how much he liked it.

Pushing her luck, she moved the kisses under his chin, trailing them back down to his neck. Pav squealed, his hands flying up to do something. He really didn’t want to push her away, though… The boy opted for grabbing her shoulders, drumming his feet on the ledge beneath him. Bright, bubbly giggles spilled from his lips, adding some warmth to the cooler fall air. “Gahayatrihihi! Nohot fahahair!”

Could the guy get any more adorable? She thought it so often, but it was true; Pavitr was the sweetest, cutest, most lovable person Gayatri had ever met. And his laughter? Freaking gorgeous. They were the same, in that way; they loved to see and hear each other be happy. Only Gayatri was a bit better at getting what she wanted. Wiggling fingers joined the kisses, gently scribbling at the base of his ribs.

Now that was just mean. He flopped around, trying his best not to push her. Pav wrapped his arms around his torso, scrunching up his shoulders as he tried to block out the tickles. The childish giggles turned to happy, bright laughter as he wiggled around. “Cohohome ohon! खिलना!”

“What? You have yet to stop me, Pavi. I think you might be enjoying yourself~” He whined through his laughter, grabbing onto her wrists. The young hero didn’t shove her hands away; he just refused to admit that she was right. As much as he hated to think it, she was helping. The heat from his blush and laughter had warmed him up, blocking out the slight chill.

His restraint died when he felt her hands travel to his stomach, her nails on his belly button. Pav squealed much louder than before, his laugh skyrocketing up several octaves. “GAHAYATRIHIHI! NOHOT THE TUHUMY!”

Gayatri laughed with him, finding the boisterous sound rather infectious. “But your tummy is my favorite! How can you ask me to move, घाम? So mean.”

He practically squawked, the indignant sound sending his girlfriend into a giggle fit. “Y-YOUHUHU AHARE THE OHONE BEHEHEING MEHEHEAN!”

“Is it really mean if you enjoy it?” Her tone was as teasing as it was affectionate. Gayatri had long since discovered that Pav enjoyed that certain brand of affection. She had no problems with it; it was cute, if anything. The girl was more than happy to indulge him, and she had to admit, it was fun to see his reactions.

It was about time to stop at that point; his cheeks were burning, and he had to go back on patrols when they were done. Still, it just didn’t feel right to end their meet-up without a big finish. Taking a deep breath, she leaned in, blowing a raspberry on the exposed skin of his neck.

When I say he squealed, I mean that every street dog in a fifty-mile radius covered their ears. His neck wasn’t his worst spot, but combined with the belly tickles and general flustering atmosphere, it might as well have been. “NAHAHAHAHO! GAYATRIHIHI, PLEHEHASE! EHENOHOUGH!”

She stopped immediately, pulling him close and peppering his cheeks with little kisses. He giggled softly, still recovering as ghost tickles buzzed along his stomach and neck. Pav couldn't help but melt into the touch, practically going limp on her as he tried to catch his breath. It was, again, adorable.

“You really can’t get any cuter, can you?” Gayatri chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The spider boy loved it when she did that. “Y-youhu’re ehevil…"

"It warmed you up, did it not?" He groaned, but didn't deny it. She was right; he was definitely worth warm, though that could be attributed to the blush on his face or fuzzy feeling in his chest. Either way, it worked.

Suddenly, Pavitr felt his spider sense go off. From a few hundred yards away, a loud crash sounded, followed by sirens and screaming. He collected himself almost immediately, adrenaline and concern replacing the giddy buzz. Another villain to deal with.

"लानत… Gayatri, I'm sorry-" Before he could guilt himself, the other teen cut him off with a kiss. Pav's eyes widened before he kissed her back, savoring the quick yet loving moment. "Go. Those people need your help. Meet you at your Maya Aunty's?"

What did he ever do to deserve a girl like her? The understanding was instant, and she never took it personally. "Absolutely. Be back in a moment, जानू."

With that, he pulled his mask back on, giving her one last hug before leaping off the building. Gayatri watched as he slid off his bangles, flipping around as he raced to the scene.

She loved him so much, but she knew that he needed to do it. If he didn't, who would? When he returned that evening, she would be waiting for him, a cup of chai and a loving pair of arms at the ready. Maybe another ticklish kiss or two as well…

#atsv tickling #lee!pavitr #ler!gayatri #ticklish!pavitr #tickle fic #augtickletober 2023 #sfw tickling community #tickle #across the spiderverse tickles #spiderman atsv tickling #augtickletober #tickletober #atsv gayatri #atsv pavitr #spider man india #spiderverse tickles

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purpdaderp · 1 year ago

Note

Hi can I ask for a ler!miguel O’Hara fic please?

Ler!Miguel x reader

Hello anon! This is going to be in a romantic relationship, and you are not a spiderman/woman (next time pls be more specific with requests like if their spider person or gender)

I I Requests are open!

"miggy! Miggy miggy miggy miggy!"

"yes, y/n?" Your wear wolf vampire spider thingy boyfriend replies in a somewhat playfully annoyed tone, he had got one day of of work every couple months, once in a blue moon when everything was as close to stable as they could get, and you decided that your mission was to annoy him.

"how 'ya doin?" You say while looking at him with a smirk

"I was 'doin' fine till you started annoying me" he said with a scowl, hiding the chuckle and smirk that was creeping to his face

"aweeee why are you so meeeaaaan?" You say in a childish tone while playfully pouting.

"mean?" He asks "mean!" He rolls his eyes

"you still got problems with that cute 16 year old?" You look at him with a bit of confusion

"cute?" He says with a 'what do you mean by that' look

Jealous much, "Sálvame Dios, I found him cute in a PARENT like way, Miguel" you knew little Spanish, you really only used the words Miguel used, so you knew sálvane dios pretty well. You sit on the couch.

He looks just a little ticked off but not mad

"can't believe you have beef with a 16 year old" you say a little snarky while giggling to yourself. Miguel sits next to you, you are looking at a photo the opposite way from him

"I'll give you something to laugh at" he says sounding some what menacing "huh-?!" Before you could even turn to look at him you could feel a ticklish squeeze on your inner thigh "Miguel waihahahait! Nohoho!" You start giggling loudly

"no what? Don't stop tickling you? Okay if you insist." He teases starting to tickle your sides

"nohohohoho! Mihihihiggy!"

"what? Miggy what? You're saying my name but not what you want!" He teases

"nohohoho! Screhehew yohohou!" You say blushing from his teases, you bat at his hands and try to squirm away at to no avail.

"that's not a very smart thing to say in this position mi amor." He teases again. "Maybe you aren't getting the message, I know how to get it through." Suddenly you feel claws scratching at your sides.

"NOHOHO! STAHAHAP YOHOHOU VAHAHAMPIHIHRE WEHEHEARWOLF SPIHIHIDER THIHIHGNY!" you manage to squeeze out in your fit of laughter

"once again, not very smart" he moves his hands from your sides to your stomach and starts spidering across it

"MIHIHIHIHIGGY!" You tell out, he'd be worried if you guys hadn't had a safe word, worried that he had gone to far or if his claws might've actually hurt you but he knows you're fine for now

He lifts your shirt up a bit, one hand behind your back holding your lying figure up, and the other holding your hands above your head

"get ready mi amor" he waits a couple seconds for dramatics

"nohohoho!" You giggle in anticipation while squirming trying to get away

He takes a deep breath and... "PFFFFTTT* blows a raspberry right on your bellybutton and starts clawing at your sides again

"NAHOHOHOHOH! SPIHIDER SPIDER!!" You yell the safe word and he stops tickling, hugs you close and puts his head in the nook of your neck

"I'm happy this is how I get to spend my days of" he says fondly, you are the only person who gets to see the cheesy soft side of him (others like Peter b see the cheesy tickle monster side)

"ihi aham too dear."

#across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spider verse spoilers #across the spiderverse tickle fic #across the spider verse miguel #miggy #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara

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inneedofsupervision · 4 months ago

Text

This Thing about Blankets and Second Chances

Summary: Peter gets sick and looks for help at the tower as Aunt May is out of town. Instead of Mr. Stark, only Sam and Bucky are there, and they nurse him back to health, but for some reason, the kid begins acting out of character.

(Read on Ao3)

(Maybe u can guess which prompt this was supposed to be lmao)

"Stark, your intern is the spawn of Satan. He was difficult being sick, but now that he's better, he's the worst."

Tony's amused laugh echoes through the speaker.

Sam's following words sound almost pleading.

"Why is he being so stubborn, Tony? He had been freakishly nice and agreeable before. What did you put into his head?" If the man thought his words were contradicting, hell, they probably contradicted, but Sam couldn't care less.

He needs Stark to listen.

"Eyes on the screen, Feathers, I don't want to talk to your ear. Yeah, that looks almost better."

The man in question looks calm. Too calm, sitting back in the seat of his jet, the first button of his dress shirt opened. Tony takes a sip out of a cheap Iron Man mug. It must have been a present, or it wouldn't find itself anywhere close to the man.

"I didn't do anything," begins Tony, pointedly ignoring the glare. "We just talked, checking that the kid didn't sneak into the lab unsupervised when he's not on top of his game."

"And why does he act like none of what we say matters after being on the phone with you? A few weeks ago, he wouldn't look Bucky in the eye, and now he doesn't move, doing the whole grumpy teenager act."

"I might be the smartest person in this merry band we call a team, but I cannot even cut open his teenage head to get on why the kid does what he does. Call it one of the mysteries of childhood."

It has to be a conspiracy. There is no other explanation for whatever this is. Sam glares at the smug grin on Stark's face. It was like the man's eyes were mocking him.

"See what I have to deal with all the time? Get a taste of your own."

"How do I get him to stop? I don't care if it's the holidays or not. He cannot sleep the whole day. Bucky was about to throw a water bucket at him after pulling him by his ankle but did nothing, and the brat just shot his webbing at him."

Tony takes another sip of coffee, but it's too late. Sam had seen the poorly hidden twitch of the corner of his mouth as he barely suppressed bark-out-loud laughter. Sam takes a deep breath.

"Stark," he begins. He makes sure to talk slowly, like he would to a four-year-old child and not a self-proclaimed billionaire-genius-whatsoever.

"That kid. He wears his webshooters. To bed."

"Oh, does he?" The man doesn't even pretend to be surprised.

"That means he likely didn't get to sleep at all."

Sam's eyelid twitches.

"What?"

Tony takes a glass of water from the tablet held out to him.

"Thanks, Marcy."

He checks his wristwatch, eyebrow rising before glancing back towards the screen.

"He patrolled until 5:43 am. It's the weekend. Let the kid live a little."

When the kid came in asking for Mr. Stark while hacking up a lung, Sam thought it would end with them calling Happy and getting the sick teen chauffeured to his aunt.

"Aunt May is in Malaysia. For the rest of the month. Could I have some water, please?"

Even Bucky's face twisted as he awkwardly rubbed the teen's back, who mumbled the words between dry heaving in the bathroom. It hadn't been pretty. They got Dr. Cho to check him only to tell them that the freaky spider-metabolism lets the kid speedrun through a mean case of the flu. They had contacted Stark, and the man had been adamant at first to fly back instantly, but Pepper had asked them to give her and Tony a minute. The man later said he could not make it and basically threatened them to take care of his mentee. Sam wonders at what point in life he ended up babysitting an enhanced teenager while his mentor was away on some rich people trip.

"Did you forget the part where I told you he had been in bed and sick for the past few days?"

He wipes a hand over his face.

He's too old for this.

Sam also couldn't understand how Stark, out of all people, refrained from going into helicopter parent mode, being hundreds of miles away from his kid and said kid fighting a cold. He had seen the man freak out over papercuts before.

"Don't be rough on him, Wilson, he's sixteen. The kid just crawled out of the crib and took his first steps. Be a little understanding. You won't get him out of bed treating my penthouse like a military camp for troubled youths."

Be a little understanding.

Sam thought he was trippin' hearing these words from no other than Tony Stark, the most eccentric and selfish person going by the man living in a Tower with his name planted on the side.

"That's because you coddle him too much!"

Tony sniffs slightly.

"Are you suggesting I am not taking your call seriously? Because you would be very much right about it."

"Stark-"

Tony glances over his shoulder, a grin breaking over his face before he turns back towards the screen.

"The missus is calling. I will check in later, having a firm chat with the human incarceration of teen rebellion. Don't worry, I'll set the itty bitty troublemaker straight."

"Tony-"

"Don't worry, we will have a stern talking."

There is a twinkle in the man's eyes.

The screen goes dark.

Sam curses.

_________________________________

"The video of Barnes patting the kid's back until he falls asleep like a toddler? I saved, archived, and showed it to my wife. She loves it. It's very domestic and very unlike Barnes. The perfect blackmail material." Clint lolls on the couch, a hand behind his head, eyes gleaming with delight.

"What do you need help with now? If it's about cough-sirup, just put it in some juice and say the weird taste comes with the congested nose. Works like a charm."

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose.

"He's fine now, Clint. Completely back to health."

The archer draws an eyebrow up.

"What's wrong then?"

"He won't get out of bed."

"He won't get out of bed," repeats the other man, lips quirking in unconcealed amusement.

"It doesn't matter what Bucky and I are saying or doing. He stays in bed and demands to sleep. Stark said he was patrolling, so he's bound to be tired. But he cannot sleep the whole day. If he does, he will be awake all night, and I will not deal with the outcome."

"Did anyone tell you you're a hypocrite?"

Sam ignores the jab and walks back to Bucky, who is behind the stove, a concerningly high staple of pancakes next to him that's still growing. Clint follows, leaning on his arms and watching them from across the counter.

"Let me get this straight. The kid comes in on Thursday being all sick and pitiful, and you two," he points at them to clarify he wasn't talking about another duo at the tower housing superheroes, "took care of him. And the kid had been his awkwardly polite self, trying to play it down to not inconvenience you like the self-deprecating little bug he is?"

A hand sneaks towards the pancakes.

"Exactly."

"And now that you two nursed him back to health, he doesn't do what you tell him to? Acting like a tired teenager, whining about being sleepy, going on about the bed being the most amazing place on earth, and not caring what you want?"

"Ouch!" Clint glares at Bucky, who unapologetically pulls the pancakes out of reach, spatula ready for another hit.

Sam raises an eyebrow. "Sometimes I forget you are a father. That's what happened. Any idea how to get him to crawl out of that blanket cocoon?"

The blond straightens up, wiping the grease off his hands with a kitchen towel. Laugh lines are decorating his face.

"No. I have no idea. Good luck, you two."

It caught Bucky's attention, looking up from where he poured another portion of batter into the sizzling pan.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, I am sure you two can handle this just fine," answers Clint. He grimaces slightly as his shoulder makes a popping sound while stretching, uttering something about not having enough training before giving the two a small salute.

"See you around. Tell the Spider-Kid I said hi."

"You can tell him yourself," shouts Sam after the blond, who turns around, a big grin on his face.

"I wouldn't want to wake him. He's a growing boy. He needs his "Z's".

Bucky shakes his hand. He's elbowing Sam slightly in the side.

"Let's try talking to him again."

The man pulls the pan off the heat and glances at the clock.

Barton is right. Bucky has become incredibly domestic. Sam observes how the other put the pancakes in the oven to keep them warm. They make their way over to the hallway, determined to end this. It is bad enough that two of their friends got a kick out of it, seeing how they get messed with by a baby-faced teen, leaving them alone to deal with the little devil.

"What about your medicine? Have you taken it?"

Bucky's hands stopped before his knuckles could knock on the door to the teen's room. They hear the shuffling of bedsheets before Peter's voice comes through muted.

"I kinda run out of it?"

"Peter Benjamin Parker, why didn't you say anything?" asks the woman on the other line, sounding exhausted, implying that this must be a topic of many conversations but not without a hint of amusement.

"I honestly forgot, but I haven't been sick in months. I was about to tell Mr. Stark, but with Decathlon and the updates for the suit, it slipped my mind. But I'm completely fine now, I swear!"

"Maybe I should ask Tony if you could stay at the Tower."

A low whining sound emits from behind the door, something they have never heard from the kid before. It was like hearing the personified essence of a protesting teenager. "I can take care of myself, Aunt May. I'm sixteen! I came to the tower when I felt unwell. I even asked for help!"

"And that's the barest minimum of what I expect you to do when you get sick, Peter. Is Tony around? Could you hand him the phone?"

"Sorry, May, he's not here. He's at a conference in France."

There's a short pause from both sides.

"Who took care of you then?"

"Oh right, I haven't told you that. It's just wild! Do you remember Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes?"

"You have mentioned them, yes."

Both men cannot help but grimace at the wary tone. They wonder what the kid has told his aunt about them to cause that reaction. Peter seems unaware of the distaste in his aunt's voice as he cheerily continues chatting away.

"So, I came to the tower feeling kind of under the weather and asked for Mr. Stark, but there were only Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson, who told me Mr. Stark wasn't there. I wanted to call you, but suddenly, I got incredibly queasy, and I ran to the bathroom and lost my lunch. I was so embarrassed getting sick in front of them, but Aunt May. Both of them were super nice about it. Especially Mr. Wilson seemed genuinely worried. They got Dr. Cho to come to the penthouse and look at me. She gave me some medicine against the flu, and it didn't take two days until I was completely better. Oh, and Mr. Barnes even cooked me chicken-and-noddle soup! It was nothing like the soup you make me."

"You know perfectly well that my soup comes out of the can, mister."

"Oops," is all the kid says, the grin carrying over in his voice.

"I'm glad to know Tony has to deal with that side of you too. Everyone should know that my nephew is part-time Spider-Man and part-time gremlin."

The kid honest-to-good cackles, not sounding any bit remorseful.

"But Peter, if those two stop being good to you, promise to let me or Tony know. I feel uncomfortable with you being around someone who had been that indifferent before."

"Don't worry, May. I think both sides needed some time to warm up to each other. I will let one of you know if something happens. I feel way more comfortable around them now, knowing they care, you know? I think it's genuine."

"I'm glad you think so, darling. I wish I could be there for you. Call me if something happens, alright?"

"Will do. Love you."

"Love you too, baby. Let me know when Tony's back."

"Yeah. See you soon, May."

"Take care of yourself. See you, Peter."

There is some shuffling before silence settles behind the closed door. The men share a look before Bucky knocks softly against the wood.

"Come in."

Sam raises an eyebrow. It was like they had never left. The kid is still rolled up tightly in the blanket, only a mob of brown hair peeking out between the gray line sheets.

"Friday, what time is it."

"It's 13:37, Mr. Wilson."

"And at what time do teens usually get up at the weekend?"

"According to the latest statistics, teenagers from 12 to 17 years old get up between 9:00 and 11:00 am."

"See, even the super-computer agrees with us, kid. It's time to get up, so move your butt."

The cocoon shifts slightly. A pair of brown, very awake eyes peek out of the opening, squinting at them.

"Friday is an AI, not a super-computer."

"Okay. Alright. The AI said your usual teen should get up between 9:00 and 11:00, and you have already taken it much further than that."

"Well, I'm not your usual teen," comes the quip, as if the kid had waited for it.

"No, you're not. A little shit is what you're are," presses Sam out, muttering to himself as he runs a hand over his head, wondering why he's even arguing about this.

A sound catches his attention.

Glancing at Bucky, seeing the man raising an eyebrow, he knew the other had heard it too.

A giggle.

Soft and breathy, muffled by pressing his face into the blanket, but it had been there, undeniably.

Now it's official.

The kid's messing with them.

Bucky seems to think the same.

"Hey! What are you doing? Let me down!"

In one swift motion, the blanket roll of a teen is scoped from the bed and thrown over a broad shoulder. Curly strands of hair bounce up and down with every step that the teen gets carried further away from his bed, wriggling and protesting on the way. Sam follows with a smirk, having to hand it to the ex-assassin. With the teen tightly wrapped up, he couldn't do much but fight against being picked up and carried like an angry caterpillar. Bucky got a firm grip around the kid's middle, preventing him from getting his arms out of the makeshift cocoon, which turned into a silky spider trap.

Their destination is the living room, where Bucky drops the living cargo on a couch.

"Friday, lock the kid's room until he ate something and washed up."

"I'm pretty sure it's a criminal offense to lock someone out of their room," protests Peter, who robs forward until he is on height with a pillow. Sam squints his eyes at him when the teen snuggles into the couch, eyes closing again.

"Oh no. We didn't bring you here for you to pass out on the couch. Get up, kid."

"Can't hear you am sleeping," mumbled the teen and dared to let out a giant yawn before wriggling, turning his back towards the stunned adults.

The nerves of that kid.

"That's it. I'm calling Tony. You see what you can do."

Sam leaves the room, ready to give the billionaire a piece of his mind, leaving Bucky alone with their troublemaker.

Peter listens, waiting for what the other man would do now. He can hear Bucky's calm heartbeat, his body tensing slightly when steps approach.

"You know," begins the older man, surprising Peter by lifting the blanket alongside his legs to sit down and let his limps fall on his lap."back then, when Steve was younger, he had been a handful. We have lived close to each other. When one of our parents was away, we'd sleep over at the other's house. Then I learned that my best friend could be the grumpiest little punk being tired. And getting sick quickly, he'd been tired often. The surprise when I came back, and suddenly the skinny kid who asked to pick a fight is now getting on everyone's nerves by getting up at 5:00 am and asking people if they wanna 'round the park with him."

"What did you do then?"

"When that punk didn't want to get up?"

"Yeah."

Bucky smirks at the curiosity in the teen's voice.

"I taught him a lesson."

Peter's eyes shoot wide open as something heavy gets thrown over the blanket cocoon, successfully pinning his legs.

"He would hold on to his blanket, refusing to let it go. But there are ways to make him crawl out of that hideout."

While speaking, Bucky shoves a hand into the opening of the blanket roll. His arm vanishes halfway until he finds what he's searching for and begins to pull.

"No!"

The man smirked as he pulled at the teen's ankle until a pair of pale feet stuck out of the cocoon, legs wriggling in an attempt to shuffle back into the safety of the blanket. By pulling at the teen's legs and the latter being too stubborn to let go of the blanket, Peter got pulled into the depth of the blanket-cocoon, the only visible part of the teen his kicking limps.

"No? I thought you were curious?" teases Bucky as he fights to get the kicking feet into a headlock.

"I didn't ask for a demonstration!" comes the muffled protest, followed by a squeak when one of Bucky's fingers accidentally runs over his sole.

"Should have specified what you wanted then," replies the older, glancing down at the successfully caught feet in his grip. Thanks to the unfavorable position of Peter laying on his stomach, having wrapped the blanket tighter than ever around himself during his wriggling, and Bucky throwing one leg over the teen, he has a remarkably secure hold of his legs. Despite his head deep inside the blanket, Bucky's words are loud and clear, sparking a sense of nervousness inside him. Even though his spidey sense doesn't act out, Peter can feel something nearing his vulnerable feet.

"You know what Steve still can't stand?"

Instead of an answer, a high-pitched, muffled screech ejects from within the blanket, followed by frantic wriggling and choked laughter as Bucky begins to worm a finger between the kid's toes, feather-lightly scratching at the skin. A grin forms on the man's face at the very familiar reaction. There hadn't been a second of the day where Peter regretted burying himself in his blanket. Surrounded by the cozy warmth and the familiar scent of fabric softener, there wasn't a place he'd rather be. Not even once, did Peter imagine that his favorite blanket would become his downfall. His wonderful, beloved blanket has revealed itself to be a wicked spider-trap. It's almost scary how a blanket, physics, and one super soldier are enough to leave him flopping around helplessly on the couch like a fish out of water. Under other circumstances, he'd easily tear a way out of the textile, but with his arms pressed close against his body and the blanket tightly wrapped around him like an overgrown Boa Constrictor, getting out was surprisingly though. Oh, and, there was also Bucky, who had a leg thrown over him, effectively pinning him against the couch, but Peter wouldn't have been able to concentrate on getting out anyway, even if he wanted to.

"I've gohohot ihihihit, I-Ihihi've gohoht ihit! Youhu cahan stahahap, okahahay? Pleahase, Buhuhucky!"

He's growing crazy.

Around him is nothing but sheer darkness. He's blind, swallowed, and betrayed by his blanket and at the mercy of whatever Bucky has in stock for him. Peter's toes are curling at the attempt to fend off the fingers, but they are giving chase. When he shakes them off, they merely switch feet to provide the other toes with the same treatment. It's alarming how Bucky knows how to turn him into a pile of squirming limbs, unable to contain his laughter.

"I would say this is even more effective on you than Steve back in the day," comments Bucky with a grin as he lets a single finger glide over Peter's sole. The whole blanket cocoon jumps at the action.

Bucky's grin rivals a Cheshire cat.

"That was something. Might be more sensitive than your toes, huh?"

"NO! It's nohot! Yohuhu're mistahaking, seriously."

"Do I? Your reaction tells me otherwise." As if to underline his words, Bucky strokes his fingers again, slowly and teasingly, down the soles of his feet.

"Stohop it! That's nohohot fuhunny!"

"I'm entertained greatly. But if you're not having fun, we've gotta do something about it."

"Nohohoh, please dohohon't!"

Even Peter knew it would be hard to take him seriously with the sheer quantity of giggles pouring out of him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Bucky looks up, his arms never ceasing their hold around Peter's ankles.

"Though I'd try some reliable methods from back in the days. Till now, it looks promising."

Durning Bucky's answer, Sam glances at the squirming heap of blankets. The head of the kid had vanished. The only part indicating he was still there was the madly kicking legs in his friend's grasp.

"Is that so," he asks, slightly skeptical.

As an answer to his question, a panicked squeal followed by even more panicked struggling echoes through the room as Bucky, without warning, attacks one foot with five wriggling fingers.

Sam's mood improves all of a sudden after being witness to Bucky's little demonstration. Having Stark laughing at him again and telling him that he should just let the teen do what he wants, Sam had been more than done with this. But with the new knowledge and the ability to take some well-deserved renege, Sam's bad temper is history.

"Let me try."

His lip twitched upwards as his words caused the teen below him to try to wriggle out of the blanket with new-found vigor.

"You've got to be pretty ticklish if you're that afraid of what's to come," observes the man, sharing a grin with Bucky.

"He's worse than Steve."

"Am not!" comes the sulky answer as fast as a bullet.

"That so?" teases Sam with a smug grin while sitting down.

"Seeing your reaction, I'm not convinced."

The cocoon stops wriggling for a moment.

"Maybe it's time to get checked by an optician."

Bucky barks out a laugh, earning a glare from his friend.

"I hope you have a tight hold on the little runt," growls Sam, and before Bucky can answer, he dishes out a relentless tickle attack on the teen's helpless feet.

Maybe he shouldn't have provoked Sam.

That's the only thing Peter can think about, apart from one all-consuming thought.

It tickles.

Oh god, how bad it tickles.

"Visit an optician, my ass. What do you call this Buck? Does that look like not ticklish to you?"

Sam found out quickly that light touches got the best reactions. With feather-light touches and

a mean precision, he strokes the tips of his fingers, in quick succession, over the soft skin. Even if they couldn't see his face, the sounds from within the blanket were enough to tell them that Sam works very effectively.

"You could almost think he lied to us," states Bucky dryly, but not without a grin.

"Am nohohohoht lyhihihing!"

"Right. What you're doing doesn't count as lying. You're in denial. Not sure if I know what's worse."

"What doho youhu knohohohow anywahahay?"

"I know you're not in a position to talk big."

Peter had anticipated another attack on his feet. Honestly, he had counted on a lot of things. Getting pulled out of his DIY prison had not been on the list. The surprise is written all over his face as his hand shoots up instinctively to protect his tightly shut eyes from the piercing ceiling lights. His reflex is also his downfall as a pair of hands capture his wrists with ease and promptly hold them over his head. Completely taken out of order by the bright light, the teen reacts belated as a weight settles on top of his legs, pinning him to the couch. The lights dim as Friday seems to have caught onto his trouble opening his eyes, and it takes a few moments before he dares open his eyes again.

"Well, where were we?" asks Sam, cracking his knuckles.

"The kid said you should get your eyes checked."

Sam squints at Bucky before directing his eyes down to Peter, pointing a finger at his chest.

"See what you did? Now I'm going to hear about this for the next weeks."

The kid dared to chuckle. Sam was sure he didn't imagine it. The kid was even making fun of him in this situation. How did it come to this level of disrespect? He raises an eyebrow at the teen, which causes the exact opposite of what he had in mind. The teen fought a grin.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Peter's eyes are twinkling with mischief.

"There is that optician shop right around the corner. I know the manager from one of my patrols. Her name is Patrisha, and she's super nice. I could put in a woHOHORD FOHOR YOUHUHUU! NO, STAHAP IHIHIT!"

"Stop?" asks Sam, whose fingers have found a way under the teen's sleeping shirt and whose thumbs are kneading into the sensitive side of Peter's stomach. "After everything you just said, you little gremlin?"

Peter pulled and tore on his arms, but Bucky's hold didn't budge an inch. His upper body lay helplessly exposed to Sam's attacks. Sam seems very aware of that, too, and doesn't miss splashing out every technique he can think of while searching meticulously for Peter's weak points as if it were hard to find them. Both adults quickly realize that the squirming teen turns out ticklish all over. The kneading had been evil already, but when Sam began softly tickling over his bare stomach, the tips of his fingertips barely touching him, Peter thought he was ready to crawl out of his skin. He kicks his legs, bucking in their hold, and his face is about to split in half by how much he's grinning.

"STOHOHOHOP, stopstopstopstohohop, pleahahase! Sahaham! I cahahan't tahahake thihhis!"

"Oh, come on, don't spoil the fun. Spider-Man surely can handle a little tickling. Wait a second. Didn't you say you're not ticklish? If I do this, it shouldn't bother you. If you didn't lie about it."

Sam grins smugly, pushing the shirt upwards. He reveals a pale but well-defined stomach.

"That skin is as white as a sheet. You ever go out?" comments Bucky, and Peter doesn't know why but finds himself laughing even louder. Or it could be the cause of Sam's fingers, which have found their way towards his ribs and dug into them with vigor. The teen jolts as a finger digs into a particularly delicate spot, right under his bottom rib.

"Would you look at that?" Bucky and Sam share shit-eating grins while Peter gasps for air between a giggle fit.

"What have we gotten here?" Sam asks. He puts his hands on Peter's ribs, his thumbs lying right on the spot that had made the teen jump a moment before. That alone was enough to make him flinch again.

"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It's a bruise from a few days aGOHOHO. NO!"

"You got hit?" asks Sam incredulously, before massaging into the spot with circling movements of his thumbs.

Peter can only nod, lips pressed tightly together, and eyes squeezed shut as he tries ignoring the electrical impulse jolting his entire body with pure willpower. He might have succeeded if there wasn't a third hand sneaking down and blunt nails dragging over his right armpit.

Brown eyes shot open widely, and Sam used the moment of surprise to press both thumbs into the spot while vibrating his hands and shaking them as the rest of his fingers dug between the teen's ribs.

"NAAHAHAHAHAHA. THAHAHAHAT'S UNFAIHIHIHIR! AHAHAHAHA BUHUHUHCKY, YOUHU'RE SUHUHUCH AHAN ASS-ACK! I'M TAHAKING IT BACK!! I'm taking it back, I'm tahahaking ihihit bahahack! I never said anythihing!"

"It's fascinating how a little tickling can bother a non-ticklish person as much as this, right?"

Bucky had to put both hands back to use holding the teen down, who was trying everything to free himself. Peter squirms back and forth under the series of attacks as high-pitched squeaks, followed by loud laughter, pour out of him. "Youhuh bohoth ahahre terrible! Terriblehe ahahand meahan!"

"You told your aunt something different."

Sam almost felt evil.

Wide eyes stared at him with something akin to horror.

"How do you know what I've talked about with my aunt?"

"We might have overheard some stuff."

Both men thought now they took it too far. But instead of distrust or anger, the teen wears a cheeky expression, eyes gleaming with a familiarity resembling Stark a bit too much for Sam's liking.

"Good to know that at least you're hearing's still alright."

"You little shit. Just wait till I'm done with you," threatens Sam with a growl. Before Peter can let out another savvy quip, the man bends forward and blows a giant raspberry on top of his stomach.

Peter didn't see that one coming.

A short scream escapes his throat, his back arching off the couch as the flight reflex kicks in harder than ever, collapsing into a madly giggling heap of weak limbs.

"I think you just found Spider-Man's weak spot. Gotta remember that for the next training session."

Those words would usually be enough to leave Peter shuddering, but, at the moment, he couldn't grab one clear thought as Sam's head was already on the way down.

"Let's see how many of these you can handle, tough cookie," teases Sam with a smirk as he blows a third, fourth, and fifth raspberry on Peter's stomach and when he can reach his sides.

"Ohoho my gohohod, pleahahase, stahahap it!" presses Peter out before breaking into another giggle fit, adorable squeaky laughter bouncing off the walls and filling the room.

"You know, all that wouldn't have happened if you had just got up when we told you to. How about now? Will you get up? Are you awake?"

The grin on Peter's face reaches up to his eyes, mirth dancing in them despite the teen calling them out for torturing him. Sam observes the kid growing frantic as his fingers wander higher up.

"I can get you wide awake in a second. Wanna bet?"

With these words, Sam bends his head down again, but before his lips can meet skin, he stops and digs his fingers into Peter's armpits instead. A mad cackling follows, and Peter pulls and pulls on his wrists, the feeling of fingers fluttering over his armpits driving him up a wall.

"I'M AWAKE. IHIHI AM COMPLETELY AWAWAKE! Ohoh my gohohod, Sahaham stohop. Pleahase nohot my underarms, I'm goihihing tohoho gehehet up whenehehever you tell mehe toho!"

"Only when I'm telling you?"

"Whehehehn you're bohoth are tehehelling me!"

"You know, I don't care if you listen to Bucky."

Bucky turns away from the teen to send a glare to Sam's way. "You wanna fight?"

The teen uses the distraction and pulls strongly. He manages to get one arm out of Bucky's hold. He grabs Bucky's hand, prying the fingers off his other wrist.

"Oh no, you don't," says Sam and claws his hands into the teen's stomach. The fingers retreat from Bucky's hands as the teen cackles and tries shoving Sam off of him. Bucky takes the distraction as a chance and quickly captures the free hand as Sam weakens the kid by digging his thumbs into his hipbones.

"You listen when we tell you, alright?" he asks with a grin as he threatens to let his fingers hover over the kid's exposed tummy. Peter's eyes weren't even focusing on him, only watching his hands while unwillingly sucking his stomach in as Sam smirks at him.

"Ihihi wihill!"

"And now admit that you're ticklish."

At first, both adults didn't think it would be possible for the teen to grow redder in the face, but they were proven wrong after Bucky's words.

They couldn't stop teasing the teen for it.

"Come on," urges Bucky, using one hand to hold the teen's wrists as he pokes him in the side, earning a panicked chuckle.

"Admit it. I'm a itty bitty ticklish spider."

Peter glares at them and shakes his head, but the continuing poking from both men causes him quickly to fall into another hiccupy giggle fit.

"If you refuse, we have to handle this a different way," taunts Bucky with a sigh as if he regrets the next thing he's about to do. Peter struggles against the grip, but Bucky pulls his arms further, stretching his upper body and leaving it to Sam's mercy. The other man makes sure to dig his thumbs into the teen's stomach before blowing one raspberry after another on the quivering belly under him.

"Sam! Sahaham, pleahahase. Thihihis is torture! I'm going tohoho, to tehell Steve that you-ACK, ahahaha, thahat you two tormented meheh!"

"Nice try, but Steve doesn't like snitches."

"Steve also doesn't like bullies," argues the teen with the best glare he could muster.

Sam and Bucky exchange glances.

It doesn't take two seconds for Peter to regret his threat.

"I'm sorry! I'M SOHOHORRY! SAHAHAHAM, BUHUHUCKY! Noho mohore, pleasahe. I'm tahaking ihit bahack! I wohon't say anythihin to Steve, okay? NAHAHAHA STAHAP, SAM! NO! No,no nohohoho not thihis agahahain, pleaahase. I'm tihicklish, you heard me? I admit ihit, pleahase stahap."

"Okay, one more thing."

The kid sent them a pleading look, and Bucky felt like kicking a puppy if he didn't let him go now. Peter quickly pulls his shirt down once set free and crosses his arms over his chest. He climbs to the end of the couch, a wary look in his eyes. He doesn't trust any of them right now.

Sam rolls his eyes at the teen's overdramatics while Bucky smirks. Deciding to ignore the kid's glare, Sam sits down next to him.

"Why are you acting so different around us now?"

Peter raises an eyebrow at the question.

"I thought you eavesdropped on me and my aunt?"

"Maybe, but it still doesn't make sense."

There is a new shade of pink growing on the kid's ears and neck. He looks down and picks at his pajama pants.

"I kinda got intimidated by you two. I always thought you didn't like me very much, and there isn't more to it than being on the same team during missions. I've never dared to be just me around you guys like I would with Mr. Stark or Clint. But when you two took care of me when I was sick, I realized that you express your affection differently than I'm used to."

"Are you telling me that now you know what we are like, you're going to continue acting like a little gremlin cause you feel comfortable around us?"

There it is again.

That dreaded shit-eating grin.

"Maybe."

Sam groans.

"Great."

Peter smiles before looking up at the man.

"Hey, Sam."

"What?"

"About the thing with the glasses-"

"Come here, you little shit!"

#ticklish peter parker #lee! peter parker #ler! bucky barnes #ler! sam wilson #peter parker #spider man #avengers fanfiction #avengers #bucky barnes #winter soldier #falcon #sam wilson #tickling #marvel tickle fic #marvel #marvel fanfic

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lerexclamationpointpeter · 7 months ago

Text

•guessing game•

Peter’s Spider-Sense alerts him, but there is no danger.

CW: tickle fic, horrendously disgusting tooth-rotting fluff, romantic relationship, angry!Pete, flirting, teasing, kisses (no tongue 😐👍), cursing, ultimately sfw but has some suggestive tones, mention of web restraints 🫠, fem!reader, you are basically this universe’s MJ, imagine any version of Peter you want (you could even come up with your own version 👀)

Peter and the reader are in an established relationship

Bold text means it’s a flashback

Slanted text is for emphasis

Small slanted text is a thought that wasn’t said out loud

Enjoy

Partially inspired by this post from @sugars-fluffy-escapes

It had been a long day. Peter was exhausted.

It started just like any other day. He woke up, ate breakfast, brushed his teeth, kissed you goodbye, and headed to class.

Of course, going to school never quite worked out for him.

He was lucky if he was able to attend all of his classes for the day (attend, not be there for the entire lecture). Today, he didn’t make it to any classes.

Why? Because Doc Ock got bored and decided to play New York City Sandbox Simulator. Pete swore this guy became a super villain just to have something to do.

The fight lasted almost all day. By the time Peter got home, you could tell he was pissed.

After hearing him knock on the window, you rushed over to open it for him. As he climbed inside, you noticed that his entire demeanor was different.

At first, you thought he might’ve been hurt. When he took off his mask, you saw that his eyes were drooped in a way that made him appear annoyed and defeated. There was no part of his face that looked warm and welcoming. This terrified you.

Usually after patrol, he greeted you cheerfully with one of his many nicknames for you. Even if he seemed sad or upset, he at least did that.

This time, he didn’t even make eye contact with you. All he said to you was, “Thanks,” and then he beelined to the bathroom to take a shower.

It was very clear that he was not in a good mood right now.

You wondered if it was a good idea to ask him what was wrong. Would that make him feel better? Would that make him snap at you? Was it best to just try to give him some space?

You crawled into bed, pulling the covers up over you. As you waited for Pete to get out of the shower, you decided that it would be best to just keep quiet until he wanted to talk.

Eventually, he emerged from the mist and steam in the bathroom. He threw on a pair of pajama pants (just pajama pants, no shirt), climbed into bed, wrapped his arms around you, and just as he was about to kiss you goodnight, he saw the look on your face.

His agitation was immediately replaced with concern.

“You okay, bug?” he leaned back to look into your eyes.

You barely looked at him before breaking eye contact. This worried him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

You hesitated, opening your mouth to speak, but closing it instead.

“Hey,” he said, taking on a more serious tone. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

He spoke in a way that was firm, but gentle. You had a habit of bursting into tears when he did that, but you held it in this time around, not wanting to irritate him any further.

You swallowed, “I uh… Are… Are you mad at me?”

He furrowed his brows, confused.

“Why would I be mad at you?”

You made eye contact with him now, feeling a little relieved. You thought quietly for a moment before speaking.

“W-well, I just.. thought that you seemed angry and.. I didn’t know if it was something I did, or-“

“No, no, baby,” he cuts you off. “I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. I could never be mad at you. It was just a hard day, that’s all.”

He holds you tighter, feeling guilty.

“I’m sorry my mug is so mean,” he whispers. “I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at the 24 foot tall robotic octopus that keeps throwing me off of tall buildings and running away.”

He earns a small chuckle from you, easing the tension. Peter smiles, but his smile fades quickly. His expression softens as he connects the dots.

“You saw that I was mad, and your first thought.. was that I was mad at you?”

This realization affected him more than he led on. He was supposed to protect you and keep you safe. Y’know, the whole point of the superhero thing?

Instead, here he was, scaring you. Pushing you away. Making you afraid to talk to him.

You broke eye contact with him again.

Pete let out a soft, defeated sigh. He tightened his grip on you again, holding you as close as possible.

“You know I’d never hurt you?” he says, his tone firm and gentle again. “Like, ever? Never in a million years? Even if I was angry?”

You nod. You knew deep down that if Pete was mad at you, he wouldn’t even do so much as raise his voice.

He’d crawl into bed with you, just like he always does.

He’d tell you what was bugging him, you’d apologize, he’d probably apologize too for some reason, then he’d ambush you with kisses and the two of you would promptly go to bed.

“I know,” you said, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry I even-“ you start to say before you can catch yourself.

Pete makes a loud incorrect buzzer sound, startling you a little and making you laugh.

“That’s the wrong answer,” he says playfully, “You’re actually only supposed to apologize when you’ve done something wrong. Try again.”

He looks at you with a shit-eating grin. He’s done this to you so many times.

The first few times, he’d caught you in a loop, going back and forth between you accidentally apologizing, and him doing the incorrect buzzer. This time, he knew you’d stop apologizing before it could even start.

Being an annoying little shit was a gift of Peter’s. In hindsight, it was only a matter of time before he found out your biggest weakness.

He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, ready to fall asleep with you in his arms, safe and sound. But, of course, he couldn’t resist adding one more quip.

He exhaled, his hot breath hitting your skin. Every hair on your body stood up.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” he said, his lips getting closer to your neck. His only intention was to kiss you there.

Much to his surprise (and delight), you giggled.

——————————

Ever since then, after a long, hard day of being Spider-Man, this became a tradition of some sort for the both of you.

Pete would come home after patrol, take a shower, and then absolutely wreck you. It was like his way of decompressing after a day of getting beat up.

He noticed that you didn’t really fight back, but he never questioned it.

Frankly, he was having too much fun to care.

He figured that you were just one of those people that curled up into a ball as a very poor, but very cute, way of trying to hide.

On this day in particular, Pete had spent the whole day with you. He planned for it. There was no long, hard day of being Spider-Man. This meant that you could spend some time together.

Unfortunately, that also meant that your tradition couldn’t happen today.

But you were craving it. It was the only thing you could think about.

After spending the whole day with Peter, and his teasing? You barely survived.

You and Pete laid next to each other, your head resting on his shoulder. He put on a movie a little while earlier that you weren’t really interested in.

You contemplated telling him that you weren’t into the movie, but that would put you in a situation that petrified you.

‘Is there something else that you wanna do?’

You could already hear him saying it. You could already imagine the heat moving towards your cheeks as you sit there, speechless, thinking about what the hell you could possibly say to get yourself out of this one. Even just imagining that was flustering enough.

But there was nothing wrong with thinking about it, right? No, of course not. You can enjoy your little daydream while Pete watches TV, and he’d have no idea at all that you were thinking about the night he discovered that you were ticklish.

He had no idea that you were thinking about the slow, mischievous grin that grew on his face after hearing you giggle. The way he locked eyes with you. The way he told you, “You are so fucked,” without saying anything at all. The reality setting in that the only thing you can do is wait for him to attack. Then, the reality setting in that once he attacks, the only thing you can do is wait for him to stop.

He didn’t know you were thinking about the dramatic, exaggerated stories he told as he toyed with you.

——————————

He had effectively overpowered you, sitting on your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“…And then, just when I thought it was finally over…” he paused for a comedically long time, looking directly into your eyes.

He enjoyed the tension building up. He loved making you feel the imminent dread of what was coming next. He loved the nervous giggles you let out as he stared at you with a stone-faced expression.

“…I heard his footsteps,” he teasingly walked his fingers up your side as you squirmed beneath him. “Getting closer,” he took a step, “and closer,” he took another step, “and then…” you hid behind your hands, shaking, laughing, waiting for him to strike.

When he didn’t, you peeked through your fingers, only to find that he was still staring at you. His face was still entirely serious, even though you were covering your eyes.

Why is he so committed to this bit?? Does he want to fluster me to death??

…

Yeah, of course he does, what am I even saying?

“…And then…” he paused again.

And then what??? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD JUST GET IT OVER WITH ALREADY.

He was far too good at this.

He took an obnoxiously loud deep breath in, gathering all the air he possibly could into his lungs. And in an instant, he was blowing the world’s biggest raspberry on your tummy. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he was also digging his fingers into your ribs at the same time.

You screamed so loud that you thought someone would file a noise complaint.

——————————

He didn’t know you were thinking about how strong he was. How easy it was for him to trap you in his arms. Even if you had attempted to fight back, it would’ve been useless.

He certainly had no idea that you were thinking about the time you yelled, “Stop!” and he laughed at you. You weren’t sure if he was catching on to how much you liked this, or if he was laughing because he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. Either way, he didn’t stop any time soon.

There was one thing you were very glad he didn’t know.

He didn’t know that the way he looked at you after one of those days made you weak.

You thought about how tired his eyes would look after taking his mask off. You thought about the relieved sigh he’d let out as he hugs you. The kiss he’d plant on your forehead before he tells you how awful of a day he had. The timber in his voice when he tells you you’re gonna know all about it when he gets out of the shower.

He didn’t know that as soon as the bathroom door closed, you hopped into bed, throwing the blanket over you, giggling and kicking your feet as soon as you were underneath. It was on days like that where you thanked the entire universe that Pete only took 10 minute showers.

All you could think of was how warm he’d be. How close he’d pull you to him. How many glances you’d take of his chest.

If Peter knew what you were thinking about right now, you’d be reduced to jelly in seconds. There was no way you could ever tell him about any of this.

But you wished he knew. You wished you could make him understand. But it would never happen. You’d rather get water boarded by the CIA than tell him.

Suddenly, Peter felt something. His Spider-Sense. He instinctively put an arm around you, looking around the room.

“Pete? Is something wrong?” you asked him.

He looked around the room for a little longer, scanning every area he could see. He found nothing. Everything was fine. He relaxed a little, but was still on edge.

“What’s wrong?” you asked again, feeling a little anxious now.

“Nothing, angel,” he shook his head. “I… I thought I felt my Spider-Sense.”

He thought he felt his Spider-Sense?

You always imagined that to be an obvious feeling.

“What made it go off?”

“I’m… I’m not sure. But it felt like it went off for you,” he paused. “Are you okay?”

You paused.

“I.. I think so.. Why? Am I in danger?”

Peter looked around the room again, scanning for absolutely anything dangerous. Nothing. He listened for any strange noises. Nothing. He tried to sense if anyone dangerous was in the building. Once again, nothing.

“No.. You’re completely fine,” he said, his brows still furrowed.

Now you were really confused.

“If I’m not in any danger, then… why did it go off?”

Peter closed his eyes, trying his best to focus on where this feeling was coming from. The longer he waited, the more clear it became.

It was his Spider-Sense, but it was different this time. It felt warmer. Gentler. When he was in danger, the feeling was comparable to almost getting hit by an oncoming train. Right now, it felt more like a tap on the shoulder.

Why was he getting tapped on the shoulder, and why did it make him think of you?

He opened his eyes, trying to make sense out of any of this.

A tap on the shoulder… for you?

Wait, no.

Maybe…

Maybe it’s a tap on the shoulder from you?

“Is… Is there something that you want to tell me?“ he questioned. “Is there something you feel scared to tell me?”

Uh oh.

Wait.

Hold on a minute.

How?

You tried your best to hide the shock on your face, but you already felt the warmth spreading across your cheeks. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm, w-what do you mean?” you tried. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Pete closed his eyes again. You were starting to wonder if he could read your mind.

God, you hoped he couldn’t read your mind.

“It just feels like there’s something you want to tell me, but you’re hiding it from me,” he opens his eyes. “What’s going on?”

Damn, I’m not even safe in my own head.

You couldn’t lie to him, but you also couldn’t just outright say it to him either. You didn’t think you could say this out loud even if you were completely alone with no sign of human life for miles.

This was going to be difficult.

You looked down at your hands and fidgeted with them.

“There is… something I’m not telling you…” you start.

He puts his arms around your waist, gently guiding you to lay down on your side next to him.

“What is it, baby? What are you so afraid to tell me?”

He looked so concerned.

You break eye contact, which Peter usually sees as a bad sign. What’s different this time is that a smile slowly creeps onto your face. Now, he’s intrigued.

“What’s so funny?” he says, not being able to stop the smile from forming on his face too.

You smile harder. You already know that your face is bright red. You can’t help it. You’re reducing into jelly.

“What is going on?” Pete laughs, now staring to feel amused by this entire situation.

You open your mouth.

Then close it.

Then open it again.

“It’s not so much that I’m scared… It’s more like… I’m embarrassed.”

Okay, that was a good first step. You admitted to being embarrassed, but not by what.

Pete squints his eyes and looks at you suspiciously.

“Just tell me what it is,” he says.

Nope. Not gonna happen, asshole.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

His expression softens.

“Why not?”

There is a pause. You take a deep breath.

“I feel too embarrassed to say it out loud. Even if you weren’t here and I was completely alone, I still wouldn’t say it out loud. That’s how embarrassed I am,” you admit.

Peter nods, understanding the predicament you’re in.

“That’s okay, bug. We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to.”

You feel bad. How do you tell someone something without saying it out loud?

Definitely not doing charades. Or Pictionary. Even if you knew sign language, you weren’t doing that either. There has to be some way to make it easier for both of you.

And then it hit you. You both knew that you couldn’t say it, but what if he could?

“What if… What if you try to guess what it is? I’ll give you hints and tell you if you’re right,” you suggested.

Pete thought about it, and nodded. The smile from earlier came back.

“Okay. Let’s do that then. What’s the first hint?”

You looked off to the side as you thought of a good hint. Something vague, but truthful.

“I’m thinking about something that you do…” Pause. “…that I like.” That seemed vague enough.

Peter raises his eyebrows.

“Something I do that you like?”

You nod.

“Is it… when I make corny science jokes?”

You shake your head.

“Huh, really thought that would be it,” he replies sarcastically.

“Is it… my dancing?” he asks.

“Nope. Not that either. You are a good dancer, though.”

He grins at that. He loved when you complimented him.

“Thanks. But if it’s not my jokes or my dancing, then what is it? Give me another hint.”

You try to think of something else.

“It’s something that most people don’t like.”

He squints.

“My… dancing…?”

You roll your eyes.

“No, Pete, it’s not your dancing. But while we’re on that subject, most people don’t like your corny jokes either.”

“Ouch.”

You both laugh. Pete thinks again for a moment. He’s drawing a blank.

“I’m gonna need another hint from you, missy.”

Time to think again. What else could you possibly say to him to make him understand?

Thinking…

…

There was only one more thing you could think to say. You shut your eyes so you didn’t have to see his reaction.

Here goes nothing…

“I only feel comfortable when you’re the one doing it… to me.”

Whoomp, there it is. Can’t take that shit back now.

You swear to God if he doesn’t figure it out now, you might just explode.

…

Silence.

…

More silence.

You opened one eye. You were greeted by a confused looking Pete, clearly still trying to put the puzzle pieces in the right places.

Time to explode.

“It’s something I do… that you like… that most people don’t like… and it’s something that you only let me do to you...” Pete looked like he was becoming more and more confused by the second. “What is something that I do to you… that most people don’t like?” he asked himself.

You watched in real time as the wheels turned. You saw the moment a lightbulb turned on. You started to brace yourself for what he was going to say.

“Oh, wait,”

I was wrong about earlier. NOW it’s time to explode.

A sly smile spread across his face.

Oh God. He knows.

“Are you thinking about-“

Don’t say it.

“-our little-”

Do NOT say it.

“-tickle fights?”

Fuck, he said it. He said the thing.

At this point, you couldn’t even answer him. Your entire face was burning. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. The only thing you could do was hide under the covers.

You hear Pete laughing. Now that he’s figured it out, you were gonna have to accept that you would never know a moment of peace for the rest of your life.

He lifted the blanket so he could see your face. Now you were hiding behind your hands.

“Why are you hiding from me?” he teased, knowing damn well why you were hiding from him.

“Stop teasing me!” you muffled.

He chuckled, “Why? Are you blushing?”

This boy just wouldn’t stop.

“How can I help teasing you when you act like this?” he purred.

He pulled the blanket over your heads so that both of you were under the covers.

“So, that’s what you were so afraid to tell me? You like it when I tickle you?”

You whimpered pathetically, doing your best to curl yourself into a ball. Pete enjoyed this.

“That’s what you were soooooo embarrassed to say this entire time?”

You did not appreciate that tone, which is exactly why he used it.

He placed his arms around your shoulders, cradling you. He rubbed your arm with his thumb, moving it back and forth. As much as he loved to fluster you, he also wanted you to feel comfortable telling him things like this.

“I don’t see what’s so embarrassing about that,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

You relaxed a little. As difficult as it was to have this conversation, you were grateful it happened. There were no more secrets between the two of you. You didn’t need to hide anymore.

You unraveled from the ball you were trying to turn into, snuggling closer to Peter.

You looked up at him. He looked down at you.

“There she is,” Pete said softly, admiring you.

You glared at him playfully before pushing your head into his chest.

“Aaaaaaand she’s hiding again,” he sighs. “When will you learn-” Pete takes hold of your wrist as he rolls on top of you, pinning it to the bed, “-that you can’t-” his other arm slithers around your waist, his hand now pinching at your side, “-hide from me?”

You did your best to try to wriggle out from underneath him, but you were trapped under his body weight. He was too strong. The only thing you could do was laugh.

“PEHEHETER, WAHAHAIT!” you screamed.

“Wait? Wait for what?” he continued to tickle you. “This is what you wanted, right?”

Yup.

“Oh wait, did you want me to tickle here?” he pinched a little higher towards your ribs. You screeched.

“Or maybe here?” he squeezed at your hip. “Or did you just want me to tickle all of these spots at the same time?” he moved his hand sporadically up and down your side.

It was unbearable. His fingers were so precise. Every move felt intentional. You were completely at his mercy, and it was everything you ever wanted.

Peter was having just as much fun. He loved the way you struggled beneath him. Your shrieking laughter was music to his ears. The way you insincerely begged him to stop only made him want to keep going.

The fact that you trusted him enough to let him do this to you made him feel so special. He spent so much of his time worrying about keeping you safe, constantly wondering if he was doing enough to protect you.

Knowing that you were okay with him putting you in such a vulnerable position made him feel like he had done something right. He was the only one who was allowed to touch you like this, and he did not take that for granted.

He stopped tickling you for a moment to pin your other wrist to the bed. He leaned down, acting like he wanted to whisper something to you.

“Hey, can I tell you a secret?” his breath hit your neck, giving you goosebumps.

This was his favorite way to tickle you. This was the way he discovered you were ticklish in the first place. The sensation was so intense that it made you fall into silent, wheezing laughter. That’s why he loved this method.

He knew that every time he said something, his breath sent you into hysterics.

“Please? I just need to tell you something real quick. It’s really important.”

“I DON’T WANT TO HEAR YOUR SEHEHECREHET,” you shouted as soon as you were able to breathe in.

“No, no, no, no, you’re gonna like it, I promise!” he lied.

You heard him inhale and you knew what was coming next.

“NONONONONONO DON’T-“ he blew a fat raspberry.

You let out one last scream before falling back into silent laughter.

Pete finally decided that you’d had enough. He kissed the sensitive area on your neck, then continued to peck upwards until he reached your cheek as you let out the last of your exhausted giggles.

He let go of your wrists and lifted the blanket, rolling back onto his side and pulling you into his embrace. He let you take the time to catch your breath.

Once your breathing slowed to a normal pace, he spoke.

“I love you so much, you know that?”

Of course you knew that.

“I love you more,” you replied.

Pete kissed you on the lips, letting it linger for a moment. He massaged your scalp as he held you, wishing he could just stay here with you forever. Then, he decided to be cheeky again.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to do that,” he said, “Just pin your arms down and tickle you.”

It only occurred to you then that he never attempted to hold your arms down before tonight. He’d sat on top of you, held you close to him so you couldn’t get away, and he got to your weak spots before you could cover them, but he never pinned your arms down.

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?” you joked.

He smiled, “Because I didn’t know that you wanted me to. I didn’t know you liked it that much,” he answered, “Besides, it’s not like you were putting up that much of a fight anyway. I thought it’d be too mean.”

Peter was many things. A superhero, a little shit, an asshole. But he was also incredibly considerate. You weren’t sure what you did to deserve this boy, but you were so happy you had him.

“But now that I know you do like it that much,” he said, “maybe next time I’ll web you to the bed and tickle you until it dissolves.”

I quite like that idea.

“Oh really?” you challenged him playfully.

“Mhmm. Maybe I’ll make a special batch of web fluid just for you.”

“A special batch?”

“Yup. I’ll make it last twice as long.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: this is my first fic pls let me know if i did good or if i should never write anything ever again 👍

#marvel comics #spider-man #peter parker #peter parker x reader #tickle fic #ler!peter parker #lee!reader #peter parker tickle #tkl community #tickle fluff #fluff #peter parker fluff #spider man tickle #marvel fanfiction #marvel tickle #tickle community

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grayishgiggles · 2 months ago

Text

You Can Rest

Being the big brother can come with expectations, like solving everyone’s problems and being strong for those who feel weak. When this weight gets too heavy for Peter 2, he resorts to spending long nights in Dr. Otto Octavius’ lab. One night, the six armed scientist catches him overworking.

———

A dim overhead light flickered in the dark lab of Doctor Otto Octavius. However, said physicist wasn’t the one up that night. Instead, his apprentice, Peter Parker (Peter 2) was hard at work on a project he kept to himself: new web shooters for Peter 3.

With an arc reactor in possession of his mentor, Peter 2 was hoping he could find a way to harness its energy into a small enough device that didn't need a change of batteries or charging. All he had to figure out now was…how to do that. And that’s what he was stuck on.

With wires connected to the pegs of the reactor and various small tools strewn about the desk, Peter 2 groaned. Maybe if he asked Otto for help, this would’ve been easier.

But no, the sun had to have set hours ago. The last thing Peter wanted to do was bother the scientist in his sleep. He could do this on his own. He was smart. He was the Peters' big brother, for gods sake.

He should know how to do this…right?

Peter 2 rubbed his bloodshot eyes and leaned back in the chair to crack his spine. No wonder he had a bad back after all these years. He must’ve been craning his neck for hours now.

Suddenly, a buzz from his Peter tingle tapped the corner of his eye. He spun around.

“Otto…”

“Peter, what are you doing up?” Otto was in his robe, night clothes on and his actuators drooping from sleepiness. “Have you looked at the time?”

“I...Otto, it’s all good. I’m just working.” The man gestured to his desk. “You can go back to bed.”

“I can’t now. It’s four in the morning.”

Peter 2 sighed, “that late, huh?” He lowered his head. “I just…I need to work more on this thing, that’s all. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

Doc Ock scoffed at that. “You clearly aren’t. You’re working in jeans!”

“Yeah, so what?” Peter 2 turned back to his work, picking a screwdriver up.

Otto stepped closer. “You’re wearing the same uncomfortable clothes you've worn all day into midnight. I've done the same thing. And from experience, it means you should go home."

Peter felt the heat in him rise as his sleepiness lowered his tolerance.

“Why does it matter to you?” The Spider-Man’s voice grew louder.

Out of all people, Otto should’ve known that hard work comes at a cost. Heck, Peter remembered when Doc Ock didn’t sleep the night before his fusion reactor demonstration. He had no right to tell him to rest.

“Because I care, dear boy. Please, you can sleep here if you want…”

“Otto!!” Peter 2 snapped at him.

The doctor had never been yelled at like that by him, his shocked expression meeting Peter’s. The exhausted man's face softened, and took a deep breath. “I-I gotta make progress on this web shooter, doc. If I don’t, then I dunno what to do.”

“You...you have organic webs.” Mumbled Otto.

“It’s for Peter 3," grumbled Peter, "Peter 3’s shooters are all old and they..and they need new tech, okay?!” The man clenched his fists. “Just let me work. I owe it to him.”

“Peter, what are you doing?” Otto asked softly, now next to his apprentice.

Peter Parker bit his lip. He felt his throat tighten and his eyes sting. Peter 2 swallowed. “I..I dunno, Doc. I’m sorry I yelled.”

“I forgive you, dear boy…" His mentor put a hand on his shoulder. "Let’s get out of here. This isn't good for you.” A metal arm slithered around around the man’s waist and gently pulled him out of his chair and into Otto’s real arms. Peter 2 went limp, propping his head up against his chest as he was carried out of the lab.

“I’m sorry…Doc.”

“You’re alright, Peter.”

The numbers 4:30 AM were displayed on the microwave clock in Otto’s kitchen. The doctor's drowsy state was wearing off as the smell of brewing coffee became stronger.

As he was waiting, Octavius kept watch across the kitchen in the living room, where Peter 2 laid on his large sofa. He gave him some of his own pajamas which were oversized but comfier than sleeping in jeans in his opinion.

Otto hoped he would’ve been tired enough to sleep by now, but no, Peter 2's glazed over expression was fixated on the flickering TV playing a soap opera. The poor thing.

“Would you like something, Peter? I could make hot chocolate. I…I know you liked it back then.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Otto huffed softly. Something was bothering the man, something that had to do with the web shooter he was working on. Why did he feel compelled to make a new one for Peter 3? Did he have a fight with the other Peters about it? Oh dear, he hoped not.

Once his coffee was brewed and poured into a mug, Doc Ock slumped on the couch beside Peter. The way Peter was curled up in the plaid blanket given to him reminded the scientist of when he was young, spry, filled with life. He missed it a little. The TV clicked off with the remote in Otto’s hand.

“So, if you aren’t going to sleep, how about we talk about what’s going on?” He set the mug and remote on the coffee table and turned his body towards Peter.

An actuator gently nudged Peter’s shoulder. All he did was let out a big sigh. “It’s a lot, Doc. I don't know where to begin.”

"How about with the project you have going on in there?" Doc Ock gestured in the direction of his lab. "Why do you wanna work on it so bad?"

"I feel it's the least I can do...for Peter 3. He's in need of upgrades and...I dunno, I wanna make him happy. I have to get them done for him." Shrugged Peter.

Otto squinted. "You always act like...you have to give everything to everyone."

Peter gave a sad laugh at that, avoiding eye contact. "It's what being Spider-Man is about."

A few moments of silence passed.

Otto fiddled with his fingers. “Is there something going on with you and the other boys?”

Peter 2 clenched his jaw. “I mean…yes, but no. We’re all doing great. Nothing happened like a fight or anything." He chuckled. "I love them, doc. They’re my brothers. And..and I wanna be there for them, but...I don't know if they should be there for me."

Otto’s silent attention indicated him to continue.

“I’ve been afraid to…to ask them for support. They got a lot on their plate already, being Spider-Men, especially Peter 1...that poor kid. I don't wanna add onto their problems, Otto,” Peter 2 slowly sat up, hugging his knees. “What if they think they have no one to lean on if I'm weak in front of them? Because I’m the big brother. I should have things under control. I’m their rock, ya know?” He sniffled as his composure began to crumple.

"Peter..."

“I have to be strong for them. They need me, and...I really need them too. But how do I tell them when I'm supposed to have everything together in my life?!”

“Peter."

“I can’t be a burden, Otto. Not to them.”

“Peter, stop that talk.” Doc’s stern but kind voice broke through Peter 2’s rambling. The man glanced up, his vision blurred by tears. He blinked them away as they flowed down his face. Peter wiped his face. “Sorry…”

“Why’re you all the way over on that side? You can come over here…I’m here for you.” Otto opened his arms. Peter weakly began scooting over, but he ended up being carried by metal tentacles into his mentor’s warm embrace. "Goodness, you're being so hard on yourself."

"I know, I know," hiccupped Peter, his arms tightly clasped around the doctor's midsection, face buried into his shirt as the floodgates opened. He thought he was done crying about things, but with these new brothers, he felt so strongly to protect them. He didn't want them to go through what he went through. He couldn't let that happen. But right now, he felt so weak, so tired. For once he wanted to feel protected. "I just...I love them and...I want them to be safe."

"I do too, but you don't get that when you hurt yourself in the process. You're one of them too." He lifted the man's chin to meet his eyes. "What gives them the right to be loved and not you, hm?"

Peter's face was flushed from tears and tiredness. He shrugged halfheartedly. "Y-you got me there."

"You are allowed to be weak, dear boy." His four additional arms wrapped around the two of them to provide support, making sure Peter was properly held. "Weakness is part of being a human. You are still human, Peter, no matter your age or strange super power."

"Heh...true," he leaned back for a moment to wipe his face, "ugh, I haven't cried like this in...forever. And this...this is what I needed."

"A hug?"

"Not just that...but just a big cuddle like this." He laid his head down on Otto.

"I shouldn't be surprised. All you Peters love it." Snorted the scientist. Peter furrowed his brow at that. Otto cleared his throat.

"Peter 1, the little one, I gave him a hug like this and he just...fell asleep. He wouldn't let go of me. Stayed curled up for hours. And that tall one, Peter 3, heh, he's a hugger, alright. He lifted me off the ground, you know? Scared me half to death. I forgot you boys had super strength."

Peter 2 chuckled and shrugged in admission. He wiped his eyes again. "Okay, we do like being cuddly, so be it."

"You probably need this more than they do. Are you usually the one holding them?"

"Yeah, but I don't mind." Peter smiled. "It's nice having baby bros."

"Well, tonight, or should I say this morning, you're getting held. Got it?" He gently pinched Peter 2's cheek, getting a weak giggle out of him. The man nodded with a yawn. "Okay...okay."

Peter let his muscles relax and melt into the embrace. He closed his eyes, finally feeling the waves of sleepiness get to him.

"You know, I was going to tickle you..."

Peter shot his eyes open. “What?!”

Otto laughed. “You probably hate that, huh? That I know your weakness?"

“Otto, no!” Peter tensed up.

"But, now's not the time, I know. I won’t tickle you, I promise.” The tentacles repositioned themselves a little so Peter 2 could comfortably lay on Otto's chest. The man squinted playfully. "You better be telling the truth, doc.”

"I am, Peter. Now close your eyes. Spider-Man needs his sleep.” He was genuine in his tone, gently resting a hand on the back of Peter’s head to run a few fingers through his brown hair.

And the scientist did tell the truth. Otto and Peter nestled into a peaceful slumber, letting the warmth bring comfort to their souls. Never in a million years did Peter imagine his idol/once enemy would be cuddling him like this, but he wasn’t complaining. It was nice to have a father figure like this around. It reminded him of when Uncle Ben would care for him.

For once, he could rest easy.

Otto Octavius was the first to wake up. Groaning, he rubbed his eyes before noticing the man curled up on him. Oh yeah, Peter had a long night, didn't he? But at this moment, he looked so peaceful despite the bit of drool dried up on his lip. The scientist couldn’t help but chuckle.

But now he was in a predicament. In no way did he want to wake his apprentice from his much needed slumber. On the other hand, the scientist needed to get a little bit of work done today regarding the arc reactor.

So, he gently used his metal arms to begin moving Peter off of him. But Peter didn’t let go. Maybe his sticky hands were activated when he slept or something, but he wouldn’t budge. Otto sighed, and returned to the cuddle. “Clingy, hm?” Maybe he could relax for a few more hours.

1 PM rolled around, and Otto completed yet another season of Grey’s Anatomy. While it was fairly inaccurate, he quite enjoyed the acting. When the credits rolled on his newly finished episode, he glanced down. Peter was still out like a light.

A long rest is good, but if it lasts too long, it won't be healthy, Otto thought to himself. Maybe it was time to get up.

"Peter," mumbled the doctor, gently rubbing his shoulder. But he didn’t stir. Otto tried tapping his cheek: nothing. Maybe calling to him louder would work? Nope, not that either.

Otto sighed. He was going to have to use bigger guns to wake the man-child. And that's when it hit him.

"You know, I was going to tickle you..."

Doc Ock felt a smile tug at his lips recalling the night before. What a perfect idea! He leaned down, closer to the Spider-Man.

"Peter..." Otto talked in a singsong voice this time, wiggling a finger under Peter 2's chin. The man twitched, his brows furrowing.

"Peter, you gotta wake up." His fingers switched to poking his sides, which got his Spider-Man to smile in his sleep. Peter mumbled out a few giggles as he curled up.

"Oh, come on, Pete. Don’t make me really tickle you.” Otto was being gentle so far, but it looked like this would take more than a few little pokes and prods. A metal claw from his tentacles whirred curiously over the man. It faced Otto as if asking for permission. “Get em, Flo,” the doctor encouraged.

Flo nuzzled right into Peter 2's stomach, eliciting a stream of sleepy giggling. "N-Nohoho..." Peter squirmed halfheartedly away from the sensation, but couldn't do much trapped in the cuddle.

"Wake up, Peter," cooed Otto as a metal claw tased his side. That's what woke Peter 2 up.

"Ahack-! Whahahat the heck?!" The Spider-Man sat up to only get a onslaught of light tickles from two playful actuators. "EHEEhehehey!! Gehet off!!" They nudged and nuzzled his stomach and sides like dogs do, only making him laugh louder. He curled back into a ball on Otto's lap.

"Good morning, dear boy!" Doc Ock chirped. It was refreshing to see his Peter smiling like this again. "How do you like the wakeup call?"

"Gehehet em off! OhottOOHOHOMYGAHAD!!" The tentacles discovered his ribs and pinched them. Peter 2 doubled over in cackling, his arms pinned to his sides. He buried his face into the doctor's shirt. "GEHEHET tHEM OFF!"

"Hey now, don't get rough!" Otto scolded the arms. They stopped the tickling for a moment to lower their heads in agreement, returning to his sides, "nibbling" them with their claws. Peter 2 squeaked.

"Now this is the perfect way to start your day, wouldn't you agree?" Cheered Otto, in which his apprentice whined through his grin.

“Ihi-I just wasn’t ehehexpecting this!!”

"How is it?"

"Ihihit-" a snort erupted from Peter, "-TIHIHickles!!"

"Good, I'm doing my job, then." The doctor chuckled. At this point Peter 2 realized no matter how much he wriggled, he wasn't escaping this. So he did what had to be done: rested his head on Otto's chest and let himself giggle his heart out. Just the sight of it warmed his mentor's heart.

Otto couldn't help himself. He wanted to be a part of the fun too. "Moe? Flo?"

The pair of metal arms perked up. All they needed was a look from their owner to know to stop.

"Wha-?"

"Are you up yet, Peter?" Doc Ock's free hand snuck under the oversized shirt and gently scribbled on his bare stomach.

A stream of light laughter bubbled out of Peter 2, surprised by the new type of tickly feeling compared to the metal claws. He leaned into Otto. "NAAHahahaoo! DOhoc I'm up!! I'm uhUHUP! You can stahahap!"

"You slept a whole eight hours, so theoretically you should be up and off the couch right now." Sneered Octavius. "But lo and behold, you aren't. Still brilliant but lazy, Parker."

Peter snatched Otto's hand with both of his, giggling nervously. "Ihihif you let me go, I'll get up!!"

"Hmmm...no." Otto broke out of the man's grasp and gave a squeeze to his lower ribs. Peter threw his head back as he wheezed. "NAHAHOO!! COMEON!" The man shook his head. "NAHAT FAIR!!"

"Peter 1 was right; you all have bad ribs!" The doctor laughed. "Oh, this is too fun!"

"NOHOHO MOHohore!" Peter 2 whined.

The playful scientist hummed. He didn't want to overdo the whole wake-up-tickle method, right? In all honesty, he just wanted to see his Peter's smile, and he sure as hell got that. And it looked just like it did years ago, curled up at the corners of the mouth and his nose scrunched up whenever he laughed. Some things don't change, do they?

"Alright, I'm done." His hand rested on Peter's stomach, motionless. "You feel awake?"

The older Peter lightly panted, arms wrapped around his midsection as a few more small giggles wheezed out. The butterflies in his stomach seemed to be tickling him still. "Mahahan...yeah, yeah I'm awake. Wooo..."

"I knew I had to tickle you. It feels good to hear you laugh, dear boy." Otto exchanged a gentle look to him, making his Peter blush.

"Uhugh...you're the worst."

"How are you, physical-wise?" The doctor turned the page.

Peter sat up on Otto's lap and groaned as he stretched. "I'm better. I, uh, feel rested." He shrugged.

"Good, that's good to hear," he nodded. "I was worried about you."

"Yeah." Peter looked away. "Thank you again for...for last night. I probably needed to hear it. I can't really care for my brothers if I don't care for myself, heheh."

"That indeed, Peter." Doc Ock ruffled his hair. He pursed his lips after a thought flew through his head. "How about I help you with those web shooters today?"

The oldest brother blinked. "Really?"

The scientist shook his head yes. "I'm sure we can figure out what troubles you're having if we work together," he stated, "the real question is: do you want my help?"

Peter 2's youthful smile curled up. "Yeah...I'd like that."

Otto thought he was going to cry happy tears at the sight of that face. "Then let's get you something to eat, first," he said as he freed Peter from the cuddle.

Oh, how he loved this boy.

#minors dni #sfw tickle community #Lee!peter2 #no way home tickle #ticklish!spiderman #Ler!doc ock #octodad #spiderson #ler!otto #ler!docock #found family #tickle fic #spider man no way home #spider bros #spider bros tickle

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sunstone-smiles · 1 year ago

Text

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.

#spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #peter b. parker #sfw fanfiction #sfw fanfic #sfw tickle fic #tickle fic

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