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cantwritethetword · 2 months

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Shut up, Merlin!

Fic Descript: Arthur learns the hard way that Merlin is very talented in the art of revenge after the king gets stuck wrapped in the drapes of his bed.

~A/N - HEY ANON I TOLD YOU I HAD A MERLIN FIC IN THE WORKS !!!

I thought of this concept like AAAAAAGES ago and thought it was super funny and perfect for our little dynamic duo.

I have been absolutely vibing while on medication for my ADHD it's so nice to just be able to ✨start things✨ ?? and then, leave those things and ✨return later ✨?? and not have to drag myself to the finish line ?? crazy

- Enoy! ~

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Merlin and Arthur would die for each other.

There was no question about it. And they had come pretty close to it on multiple occasions. Whether it be facing trolls, witches, wildren, or mortal humans, both would take a sword to the heart for the other if the need arose.

If no danger was in sight, however, they would gladly throw each other under (the medieval equivalent of) the bus.

The pair had been out hunting, and a rather unsuccessful hunt at that. Arthur was in piss-poor form, which meant Merlin took every opportunity to run his mouth (and annoy the king further). They were making their way back to the castle, Arthur leading the way and Merlin trotting along behind.

"-do you remember when you missed that deer that was riiight in front of you?" Merlin asked, his face would suggest innocence but his tone proved he was trying to piss Arthur off.

"Shut up Merlin." Arthur replied flatly.

"And what about that time you were aiming for that huge bird?" Merlin continued. "But it flew off before you even had the chance to line up your bow?"

Arthur glared directly forwards, to no-one in particular. "Shut up, Merlin."

The men turned their horses off the beaten path and onto a lesser known shortcut through the thick forest back to Camelot.

Partially to clear the path, and partially to vent his frustration, Arthur swung his sword in front of him to clear some of the vines blocking their way. Perhaps the thickness of the foliage would deter Merlin from any more snide comments, and make him focus more on directing his horse through the areas too thick for Arthur to break.

Surprise surprise, Merlin continued as before. "And the rabbit- oh the knights are never going to let you forget that you lost a sword fight to an unarmed bunny-".

"Shut up Merlin!" Arthur groaned, wiping his face with his hands to try and wipe Merlin's voice from his brain.

"But we haven't even got to the-"

Merlin's taunt was interrupted by a sudden quiet, one that Arthur whispered silent praise to. "Have you finally taken my advice?"

When his servant didn't reply, Arthur slowed his horse. The now unnerving silence made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and at the faint rustle of vegetation Arthur whipped his head round and drew his sword - prepared to leap from his horse and engage with whatever potential threat may have overpowered his friend.

But the moment his eyes caught sight of what made the rustle, Arthur burst into laughter.

Merlin hung a few metres behind his dismounted horse, completely tangled in the green ropes. The tautness of the plant rendered him almost immobile, a fact that was well demonstrated by his fruitless wriggling.

"Now," Arthur said with a grin, his previous sour mood turned completely upside down. "What was that you were saying about the knights not letting us forget things? Because I think they'd love to hear about this."

Merlin's glare shot daggers in Arthur's direction. "Hah hah." He said sarcastically. "Now help me down you ass."

Climbing off his horse, Arthur threw his sword into the dirt and sat on a nearby fallen tree. His grin eating more shit than a dung beetle.

Merlin scoffed. "Really? You're just going to sit there."

Arthur shrugged. "I've worked hard enough on this hunt, I think I deserve to have a bit of entertainment."

Merlin rolled his eyes and writhed further, pulling at the greenery with all his might before giving up and letting his body go limp.

"You're really not going to get me out of this?" He asked sincerely, a hint of annoyance still hiding at the back of his throat.

"You're a big boy Merlin." Arthur grinned cockily, stifling a chuckle. "You can do it."

With another roll of his eyes, Merlin continued to wrestle against the vines. But it seemed no matter which way he pulled, somehow he kept tightening the bounds that kept him suspended a few metres above the floor. He couldn't even use his magic with Arthur watching him this closely.

"You know Merlin, I think if you'd just relax you would have been free by now." Arthur continued.

Merlin made a few disgruntled noises before continuing to wriggle in the plants.

After a few minutes, Arthur stretched his arms dramatically. "I could take a nap by the time you've finished."

"Do it then." Merlin muttered under his breath. "Lazy ass."

Ignoring Merlin's comment, Arthur folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes.

The warlock scoffed, before taking his opportunity to mutter a quick spell and free himself from the godforsaken foliage.

Unfortunately, he freed himself a little too eagerly, and left his body weight with nothing to support it. He toppled from the web of vines directly into a substantially deep patch of mud underneath him.

Arthur cackled at the sight, clapping his hands once before standing up and mounting his horse again. "Come on then."

Merlin grunted, dragging his feet through the ankle-deep sludge to where his horse was patiently waiting.

"I feel sorry for your saddle." Arthur grinned behind him. "Having all that dirt smeared over it."

Merlin shot him a glare. "And I feel sorry for yours, having your arse squashing it."

Rolling his eyes, Arthur quipped back a retort. "At least I'm not the one who has to clean it."

"I doubt you'd know where to start."

Early the next morning, before even the sun was up, Merlin snuck into the royal chambers. Not an unfamiliar process by this point, though usually it had far less exciting intent. This was not about cleaning, or polishing, or even returning stolen goods.

This was about revenge.

Focusing his attention on the sleeping king, Merlin swiped his eyes to the drapes of the bed at the top two corners, chanting an incantation. The fabric wound and tied itself around Arthur's wrists - perfectly balanced between holding firm without cutting off his blood flow. Then came the bedsheets themselves, winding around the bottom bedposts and around Arthur's legs with a similar spell.

Smirking to himself, Merlin slinked away to the furthest point of the room. Giving himself a mindless task of busywork to wait for Arthur to waken.

After what felt like hours, there was movement. At first, the sounds of a half-sleeping grunt and a rough attempt at turning himself over came from Arthur's bed. Then, a slightly bewildered collection of mumbles and tugs to the material. Before finally,

"WHAT THE-?" Arthur bellowed, thrashing in the binds. "MERLIN!"

Deciding to take this moment to make himself known, Merlin popped his head from around the corner. "Morning sunshine."

"Merlin." Arthur breathed an exasperated sigh of relief, before continuing his brash tone. "Get me out of here!"

Merlin smirked at his friend. "Oh but I've got a long day of work ahead, I feel I deserve some entertainment."

Arthur glared at him. "Merlin. Get. Me. Out."

Just to rub the situation in, Merlin sat on the lower half of the bed (where Arthur couldn't reach) with his legs crossed, letting his chin fall on his hands - eager to watch the show.

Realising his manservant was going to be absolutely no help, Arthur began thrashing again, tugging at the drapes of his bedframe with little success.

"You know," Merlin suggested. "If you'd just relax, maybe you'd get out."

"I can't relax!" Arthur cried indignantly. "I am stuck, and hungry - I haven't even had breakfast! I'm wasting away-"

"Oh you're fine." Merlin laughed, poking Arthur's exposed side.

Arthur shrieked and recoiled (as best as the bedding would allow), internally cursing his decision to sleep without a shirt on. He locked eyes with his manservant, watching the cogs tick momentarily in Merlin's brain.

"Oh~?" Merlin grinned. "What's this?"

"Merlin I swear to you..." Arthur threatened, trying his best to keep his composure. "I will throw you in the stocks if you come any closer."

Merlin shrugged. "You've done worse." And crawled closer.

"I'll have you executed!" Arthur's voice was beginning to break with nerves.

Merlin laughed briefly. "You wouldn't survive without me."

Pulling himself together, Arthur called upon his most serious, kingly, threatening tone. "I'll ban you from the tavern!"

Merlin rolled his eyes, before clambering behind his friend - reveling in the freedom he had to really draw out the anticipation.

"Guahards!" Arthur shrieked, a bark of laughter breaking up his command as he twisted as far away from Merlin as he could. "Help!"

"Oh they can't hear you." Merlin grinned, noting the way Arthur almost seemed to relax at that statement. Perhaps the king needed this more than he did.

Either way, Arthur was royally screwed.

Merlin's spindly fingers began climbing up Arthur's sides, making the king jolt and yelp with every touch. Even when all he could see was Arthur's reddening ears, Merlin knew Arthur's face was scrunched as tightly as possible - avoiding even the smallest semblance of a smile.

Surprisingly, as Merlin's hands climbed higher, Arthur's breathing relaxed. The tension in his muscles remained, not allowing himself the risk of letting out so much as a snicker, but clearly his ribs and armpits weren't where Merlin should be focusing.

Following the cues of his victim friend, Merlin let his hands drag down over the curves of Arthur's love handles. Instantly, the king's breathing hitched - bingo.

Continuing the previously-built anticipation, Merlin slowly scraped his blunt fingernails against Arthur's skin, pulling his digits from splayed out to centered on the king's sides. Arthur was practically vibrating at this point with the pure effort of keeping his reactions at bay. Desperately gripping at the tough-guy facade with a pained grimace on his face, he pulled at the drapes his limbs were caught in at violent, random intervals.

"You're allowed to smile, you know." Merlin teased right in his friend's ear, adding a little more pressure to transition into light poking.

Arthur yelped in reaction, before grunting - as if to remind Merlin that Arthur was the King of Camelot, far too tough for something as childish as being ticklish.

Unfortunately, he had a little shit of a man-servant. And someone who knew exactly what to do to get him to crack a smile.

"Huh, maybe His Majesty the King isn't ticklish after all..." Merlin proclaimed, watching Arthur's cheek twitch into a stifled (but amused) grin, before clawing his hands against Arthur's sides.

Arthur's body seized, pulling against the fabric holding him in place so tightly Merlin thought the bedframe might snap, before slumping into Merlin's tickly grasp.

And the sweetest, most childish giggles Merlin had ever heard bubbled out of Arthur's mouth.

"Meh-meh-meherlihin!" Arthur gasped between bouts of soft laughter. "Wahahait!"

"Oh?" Merlin raised an eyebrow (not that Arthur could see). "Are you ticklish, Arthur?"

Arthur ducked his head to his shoulder. "Shuhuhut up Meherlin!"

It was at this moment, Merlin realised that while Arthur was occasionally pulling on the binds, it didn't seem intentional. Arthur only seemed to really pull with one hand, and not even to protect himself.

It seemed he was only focused on covering his (now bright red) face... Interesting.

"What's the matter?" Merlin beamed, peeking his head around next to Arthur's. "It can't tickle that badly."

"Meherlin!" Arthur's eyes widened with a flustered laugh, before flicking his head in the other direction. "Shuhuht uhuhup!"

Merlin laughed. "You're one to talk about shutting up Mr Giggles."

Arthur's cheeks burned even brighter - the poor guy looked more flustered than Merlin had ever seen him before. At this point Merlin was having more fun teasing the king than actually tickling him.

Though by this point, Arthur was almost getting used to the clawing at his love handles, so Merlin decided to swap techniques and start squeezing at Arthur's hip bones.

Turns out, Arthur has the perfect layering of fat and muscle for Merlin to drill his fingers all the way into the king's hips without pain - just a hell of a lot of tickling.

Arthur screeched, and though his breathing became more frantic and his struggling became more erratic, the bubbly giggles from before sounded just as carefree (just a little less gentle).

"Meher- nohohoho- meherlin wahahait!" Arthur cackled, his face in a permanent beam.

"Well isn't this just adorable." Merlin teased, pitter-pattering his fingers over Arthur's stomach before returning to the king's hips. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen you this happy."

"Shuhuhut uhup meheherlin!"

Merlin grinned at his friend, finally deciding to show mercy. Poor Arthur was nearing exhaustion, and he still had a full day of training with the knights ahead of him.

With a swift, inconspicuous mutter, Merlin loosened the drapes holding Arthur hostage. It took the king a few moments to finally realised he could free himself, and he escaped with a little less hurry than Merlin expected.

But even after Arthur's breathing returned to normal, and the flush had almost faded from his face, Arthur still had a massive grin splitting his cheeks and his arms folded over his eyes.

Merlin stood off the bed and let his friend lie there for a few moments, waiting for the usual threat or sarcastic quip that followed their usual banter sessions.

"Will that be all, my lord?" Merlin grinned, moving towards the door (and hoping to provoke some sign of life out of the guy.)

Arthur just giggled again. "Shuhut up Merlin."

#crow's tickle fic #merlin tickle fic #lmao I wrote half of this in the ER on a monday night #life be crazy but tkls persist #also I'm trialing out adding descriptions to fics so let me know what you think!

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cantwritethetword · 2 months

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That's Cheating

Fic Descript: During a training session, it's revealed that Miles is ticklish. Pavitr thoroughly enjoys the experience, and just when Miles thought it couldn't get worse, Miguel decides he wants to wrestle him. Surely Miguel wouldn't use Miles' weakness against him, right?

~ A/N - My first ever Into/Across The SpiderVerse fic !!!!

I absolutely adored these guys when they came on screen, and I finally have the fic idea to do their group dynamic justice!

By the way, this is also absolutely me being super self indulgent sdjsklhfkls cause I've had this whole scenario running around my head any time I'm training with these 3 specific people and it KILLS ME so I need to get it on paper lmao I'm so lee for so many of my wrestling friends it's not even funny jsdfhdfjhafk.

ALSO QUICK WARNING THIS IS A LONG ONE SDJHLKSDHAFLK ALL THE ONES WHERE I PUT ALL MY LITTLE LEE THOUGHTS INTO END UP SO FUCKING LONG LMAO APOLOGIES FAM IT'S LIKE ALMOST 3K

I hope it's good!

Enoy! ~

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Miles never turned down the chance to train with his fellow spider people. Since he first walked through the doors an was offered the chance to practice, Miles had grabbed the opportunity with both fists.

Not just because it was one of the few places he could properly use his skills and abilities to their full potential (without risking revealing himself as spiderman or injuring a civilian in the process), but there was something about training at the spider society headquarters that gave him almost limitless energy.

He wasn't sure how much of that energy was adrenaline, how much was power from the spider bite, or how much was just because he loved spending time with his favourite people.

But no matter the reason, this little quirk of his enabled him to continue sparring round after round when most would need a few minutes of reprieve between sets. And he would be lying if he said it didn't give him a little mood boost when the other spider people commented on his incredible stamina.

"Ugh, Miles do you ever get tired?" Pavitr groaned as he managed to flip Miles onto his back and clamber on top of the kid, pinning him to the ground. "We've been at this for like ten minutes straight!"

Miles grinned, his arms pushing against Pavitr's knees that were currently either side of his ribs to wriggle himself out. "You giving up already?"

"No way." Pavitr grunted, as Miles's movements had almost made him topple. "But I'll take a rest while you figure this out."

Pavitr, the asshole, decided to take this moment to shoot webs onto Miles's wrists - sticking them to the floor next to Mile's sides. Straining against the webs, Miles silently thanked the fact that it was Pavitr he was with. If this were an actual fight, Miles knew his face would currently be a punching bag.

But just because Pavitr wasn't going to injure him, it didn't mean there wasn't a threat.

"Come on Miles! Get out!" Pavitr teased, poking Mile's unprotected forehead.

The kid shook his head to try and get rid of Pavitr's annoying fingers.

Bad idea.

In the process of protecting his forehead, Miles had encouraged his friend to move his poking elsewhere. And it only took a few prods to Mile's neck for him to break into giggles.

"Agh- Pahahav-" Miles squeaked out before he could stop himself.

Pavitr stopped, an amazed grin across his face. "What was that?"

Miles froze for a second, realising just how severely his body had just betrayed him, before starting to thrash a little more desperately against the webbing trapping his hands.

"Are you ticklish?" Pavitr questioned with a teasy smirk, poking Miles's neck another few times.

"NO-!" Miles grunted, using every inch of willpower in his body to resist the laughter bubbling in his chest. "Don't!"

Completely ignoring Miles's pleads, Pavitr moved his prodding fingers down to Miles's collarbones.

And that was where the kid cracked.

"NOhohoho!" Miles squealed, shoulders trying their best to scrunch up and protect himself. "Pahahav stohohop!"

Pavitr beamed, absolutely ecstatic at his newfound discovery. "Oh my god, you are ticklish!"

"Shhhh!" Miles begged through his giggles, giving up on resisting his own reactions and focusing his efforts on preventing his ticklishness from becoming the newest piece of gossip.

"Why?" Pavitr laughed. "You're the one who's making all the nois-"

"What's this?" A voice chuckled from behind the two.

Pavitr paused his attack, and - after recognising who it was - Miles breathed a sigh of relief. Both because he could finally actually breathe again, and because the voice came from his old mentor - someone who already knew how ridiculously ticklish he was and hadn't told a soul.

Peter B, clearly having just finished a spar with someone by the looks of his flushed face and sweaty t-shirt, made his way to kneel down next to the pair before chuckling again.

"Ah, I see you've found Miles's little weakness."

Pavitr let out an indignant noise. "You already knew about this?!? And you didn't tell us?"

Peter shrugged. "Figured you guys would find out eventually, he's too ticklish to hide it for long."

"Peter!" Miles groaned. "Guys can we not talk about this right now!"

With a grin, Pavitr turned back to Miles. "Oh we can stop talking if you'd like..."

Before Miles could realise what Pavitr meant, ten fingers began tapping against the front of his ribs, and he was once again sent into a helpless fit of giggles.

"NOnononono Pahav people ahare gonna see!"

"Who would see?" Pavitr laughed. "It's just us over here; you, me and Peter."

"Plus Miguel, somewhere..." Peter added, looking around them for his friend. "But I doubt he's listening to your little situation kid, he's probably off doing Miguel things, as Miguel does."

Half expecting a beetlejuice moment at the three mentions of the guy's name, Miles flicked his eyes around the room (as best as he could - he was still pinned on his back) to try and spot Miguel. Thankfully, it seemed the slightly intimidating spiderman was too busy helping another pair of spiders with their match on the other side of the room.

"See!" Pavitr continued, digging a little harder into Miles's ribs. "Nothing to be worried about buddy!"

"IHIHIT'S STIHIHILL CHEHEATING!" Miles whined through his laughter, somehow managing to swallow the scream that almost burst out of his mouth at the sensation of Pavitr clawing into his sides.

"Ehhhhh..." Peter tilted his head with a grimace on his face. "Technically it's not, there's no specific rules against it."

Miles shook his head violently. "IHIHIT'S CHEHEHEATING!"

"You having so. much. energy. is what's cheating!" Pavitr responded, poking to emphasise his words. "But fine, let's ask Miguel."

Miles's eyes went wide, and his laughter turned to desperate begging. He couldn't possibly live through the sheer embarrassment of giggling like a child in front of someone as stone-faced and important as Miguel.

But no matter how many 'no's the kid strung together in rapid succession - a rather impressive display of his lung capacity to be completely honest - his pleading was fruitless, as Pavitr had already waved down Miguel, and the man was making his way over.

Thankfully there were a few seconds of rest until Miguel arrived that were completely tickle-free, so Miles had a chance to somewhat compose himself. Still, he knew that he would need much longer to reduce the redness his face had taken on in the last few minutes of torture.

"Yes?" Miguel said as he knelt down, one eyebrow slightly raised at the position the two boys were currently in.

"Is tickling illegal?" Pavitr asked genuinely, much to Miles's surprise. He was expecting some kind of teasy grin shot in his direction, but it seemed Pav was just as interested in Miguel's answer as he was in taking Miles apart at his fingers. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad.

Even more to Miles's surprise was the quiet chuckle that escaped Miguel's mouth.

"Technically not, why?" Miguel responded, a small (but definitely present) grin on his face.

"Oh no reason..." Pavitr smirked at Miles (who was quickly realising he spoke too soon about how easy this interaction would be). "Just that I found out Miles was ticklish and wanted to try and see if he would submit because of it."

Miles could feel his face flush even redder than before, and he couldn't even cover his cheeks cause his damn hands were still stuck. So he resorted to rolling his eyes above his head to avoid looking at anyone for the remainder of the conversation.

Miguel once again let out a breathy chuckle. "Well, I haven't seen it happen before, and we're about to finish up the official training session... But we can always find out later."

That last comment snapped Miles's face back into Miguel's line of vision.

And, if this whole situation wasn't already flustered enough, Miles could have sworn Miguel winked as he stood up and called out to everyone to finish their current drill and pack up.

After chatting for a few moments with some of the other spider people, Miles watched as most of the group cleared from the gym. Aside from Miguel and Peter (who were practicing something on one side of the mats), the gym was practically empty.

Which made the sound of thudding feet all the more terrifying coming his way.

Miles yelped as someone tackled him to the floor and climbed on top of his hips.

"You didn't think we were finished, did you?" Pavitr grinned down at his friend, before digging his thumbs into the pocket right above Miles's hips.

"NOHOHO PAHAHAV!" Miles shrieked, caught so off guard he couldn't have stopped himself if he tried.

Pavitr laughed. "Glad we're on the same page then!"

"Stohohop ihihit!" The kid giggled, pushing at Pav's wrists - a much easier feat now that his hands weren't spider-webbed to the floor (but still not quite easy enough to push Pav's hands away).

With Miles now being able to fight back, there was actually a fight to be had. Still a very one-sided fight, but enough of a back-and-forth match to eat at Pavitr's strength.

And Pavitr's energy drained far quicker than Miles's did.

Keeping a very wriggly Miles consistently trapped and tickled was quite the challenge for India's favourite spiderman, so most of Pavitr's efforts were concentrated on Miles's hips. Certainly his hips were effective, but the hope of escape kept Miles going just long enough that Pavitr's teasy smirk started to fade into an open-mouthed grin (for maximum oxygen intake).

By the time Miles's breathing was wheezy, Pavitr sounded just as exhausted. Both boys were drenched in sweat, and neither were sure where their own ended and the other's began. Pavitr's thumbs slowed, and Miles was finally able to push those troublesome fingers away from his sensitive hips with one final residual giggle.

Letting himself breathe for a moment, Pavitr gave Miles's shoulder a friendly pat. "Damn you put up a good fight, I'm dead after that!"

Miles chuckled and nodded in agreement, still a little woozy from the post-tickle haze.

"You up for some food?" Pav asked, standing up and offering to help Miles to his feet.

"Sounds gr-" Miles began.

"Actually," Miguel interrupted the pair, making Miles freeze for a moment.

How long had he been watching them?? Had he seen Miles get absolutely wrecked?? Oh god, would Miguel ever take him seriously again after that??

Miguel continued. "Miles, want to have a round?"

That was definitely not the direction Miles thought this conversation was going. Thank god, Miguel must have only just finished with Peter. And now that he was looking, Miles could see a (somehow even more) sweaty Peter gathering his stuff and heading out of the gym.

Perfect. Miguel hadn't seen a thing.

Miles nodded, slightly intimidated with the idea of attempting to wrestle someone as experienced as Miguel, but keen to try (and perhaps get a little closer to the reserved leader of the Spider Society).

"Excellent." Miguel gave a small nod, and positioned himself in the centre of the mat.

"Well, good luck." Pavitr smiled, clapping Miles on the back before heading out towards the cafeteria.

Miles took a breath, calming his racing thoughts and tired lungs, before moving to face Miguel.

The pair moved slowly to start, attempting a few takedowns and swings at each other but not fully committing to any, before Miguel swiftly spun to the floor and knocked Miles straight off his feet.

God it was frustrating that Miguel could do that with so much control that it almost seemed to happen in slow motion.

Without even letting himself catch his breath on the floor, Miles tried to scramble to a crouched position, but Miguel was either too quick or predicted his movements too well.

One moment he was almost to his feet, the next Miles was flat on his back with the side of Miguel's chest pressing against the front of his. One of his arms was trapped at an outward angle by Miguel's hand, but Miles couldn't quite see what was going on past that with Miguel's back in the way.

Then Miles tensed.

A soft but unmistakably sharp sensation was gently tapping at his side, enough to fill Miles's chest with tickly anticipation but not so much that he was convinced that was what was happening.

Surely not. Surely Miguel was far too mature for something as childish as tickling.

Still, as Miles struggled to escape Miguel's hold, he struggled even more to contain the laughter threatening to spill out of his mouth at the tickly sensations radiating from his side.

"Mihi- Miguehel?" Miles strained, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible.

Miguel chuckled, and spoke with possibly the teasiest voice Miles had ever heard come out of his mouth. "What's the matter?"

Oooh that motherfucker. Miguel knew exactly what was happening, Miles could feel the smirk radiating off Miguel's face. And somehow that made it significantly harder for the poor kid to control himself.

"Whahat- Wahait- Mihiguehel-" Miles stuttered, giggles already peppering every word he spoke.

"Pavitr wasn't kidding..." Miguel hummed, his claws switching from tapping with all four talons to scratching a single finger up and down every-so-gently. "You really are ticklish."

Miles whined (though it came out sounding more like a laugh), his hips trying to squirm away from the tortuous feeling. "No, noho no no Miguehel plehease-"

"And I was curious what he was saying about submitting you just by tickling..." He continued, bringing back the rest of his hand to softly claw against Miles's lowest ribs.

Even that gentle sensation brought Miles almost to the brink, his eyes practically popped out of his head and a stream of uncontrollable giggles flooded from his mouth. How the hell was it already tickling this badly??

"Mihihi- Mihihgue- Nohoho stohohop!"

"Huh." Miguel chuckled again, god that sent shivers down Miles's spine every time it happened (which really wasn't helping). "Already that bad? What about if I do this?"

The agonisingly slow clawing turned to full-handed squeezing up and down the soft part of Miles's side, and Miles shrieked. As if waking a sleeper agent, his brain seemed to suddenly (and conveniently) remember he had two arms - and only one was stuck. Half punching his opponent in desperation, Miles thudded his free hand against Miguel's back to try and push himself out.

"NOHOHOHO MIHIHIGUEHEHEL PLEHEHEASE!" He begged, legs kicking wildly without reason or result. "STOHOHOP!"

Miguel paused, lifting his head and turning it as much as he could towards Miles (only being able to see the kid from the corner of his eye). "Is that you tapping out?"

Whilst momentarily catching his breath, Miles paused. On one hand, he was rather close to death, and wasn't sure how much more of Miguel's teasing he could handle. But on the other, there was something almost precious about seeing such a weirdly personal side of the stoic man. Should he submit, and cease the frankly torturous situation he had found himself in, or should he push onwards, hoping Miguel would eventually show mercy if Miles actually needed him to (though at this stage, it was hard to say he wasn't slightly enjoying the playful interaction).

Eh, Miles was always a stubborn kid. And he was proud of it.

"Nohohope!" He shook his head, bracing himself.

Miguel gave a surprised scoff. "You really do have a ridiculous amount of stamina, huh."

Miles tried to grin cockily, though even he knew it probably looked more like a nervous invitation for Miguel to continue.

And continue he did.

Like a switch had flipped, Miguel launched his clawed hand into a rapid tickle-assault against Miles's entire torso. Within seconds, every inch of the kid's sides, ribs, stomach, and hips had been poked and squeezed and vibrated against before Miles even had the chance to react. The sudden zero-to-a-hundred spike of intensity caught the younger superhero completely off-guard, making him squeal at a pitch he genuinely didn't think he could each anymore.

"NOHOHOHO MIHIHIGUEHEHEL!" Miles cackled, twisting and writhing under his attacker.

Miguel gave a surprised laugh at the increased movement. "Hey, you asked for it kid, not my problem."

"NONONONO IHI CAHAHAN'T!"

"Ok, Ok..." Miguel playfully rolled his eyes, not that Miles could see (or really pay attention), and released the kid from his grip.

Miles flopped both arms over his face, covering his burning cheeks, and laid there for a few moments panting. Miguel chuckled, reaching to give the kid a few sympathetic pats at whatever body part was closest to him.

Seeing a hand move out of the corner of his eye, in the general direction of his stomach, Miles yelped and curled away from it in a mess of giggles. "Nonono plehease, I'm dohohone!"

Giving the final laugh of the interaction, Miguel grinned at the kid. "So there is a way to tire you out... I'll keep that in mind."

#crow's tickle fic #across the spiderverse tickle fic

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