#ticklish!dean

[cringemesstickles]

Tickle Warfare: Operation Sneak Attack

(TickleTober Day 13: Sneak Attack)

Summary: Sam and Cas team up to get Dean back for all the times he’s tickled them

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,177

A/N: I’m actually super proud of this one! I’m totally writing a sequel unrelated to tktober so keep an eye out for that 😏

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The bunker was unusually quiet. A moment of peace had settled on the three supernatural hunters: Sam, Dean, and Castiel. However, that peace was about to be interrupted.

It was a well known fact that Dean was a professional in the field of tickling, having had years to master the art and refine his skills. Sam, his little brother, and Castiel, their angelic friend, fell victim to Dean’s tickle attacks more often than not.

But this time, things were going to change!

At least for the day…

The angel and the younger hunter sat in the bunkers library, hunched over the table with focused expressions.

“Alright, here’s the plan…” Sam started,

“Dean is in the living room watching tv, so his guard will be down. As long as we’re coordinated and quick, he’ll never see it coming!”

Castiel nodded to show that he understood, just as eager for revenge as Sam.

“Right. He does tend to get quite engrossed in his odd doctor show.” He commented with furrowed brows, getting a chuckle from the youngest Winchester.

“Exactly. So I’m thinking we ambush from behind, you get his armpits and I’ll get his sides. And then, when we have him weak enough, I’ll go for his hips.” Sam spoke like an old war general, knowing better than anyone that they would have to execute this perfectly.

“I will warn you that in the past when I’ve gone for his hips, he always breaks free after a few seconds. But since there’s two of us, we should be fine as long as we hold on. I’ll give you a heads up before I attack, got it?”

The angel stood up, ready for battle.

“Loud and clear. Now let’s go exact our revenge.”

Sam couldn’t help but laugh again, amused by the angel’s eagerness.

Together they stealthily entered the living area, spotting Dean sitting on the couch, engrossed in an old rerun of Doctor Sexy, just as Cas had predicted.

They crouched down, slowly approaching the older hunter, sharing a look of determination.

Sam looked at Cas, mouthing an “On three” before counting with his fingers.

As soon as Sam’s ring finger went up, the duo leaped over the couch and pinned their target, Castiel holding him from behind and Sam perching himself on his thighs.

“Wha- HEY!” Dean shouted, voice filled with surprise as he writhed to break free.

“Now, Cas!” With that signal, they had begun their attack. Sticking to the plan, Castiel dove his fingers under Dean’s arms while Sam dig into his sides, getting a bark of laughter from the older Winchester.

“GAH- WHAT THE HEHEHELL?!”

Sam broke into a bright smile, filled with a giddy sense of accomplishment.

“This is payback for tickling us so much!”

The angel couldn’t hold back his own amusement, warm laughter mingling with Dean’s.

“I believe this is what you call… sweet revenge.” He smirked, drilling his thumbs into the tender hollows, receiving loud, hearty laughter in response.

“CAHAHAS, YOU FEATHERED SON OF A-”

Sam and Castiel relished in their vengeance, taking in the sight of the suave Dean Winchester overtaken with hysterical laughter.

“I wouldn’t finish that remark, Dean. Don’t forget that we’re in control here.” The angel teased in a low, warning tone, taking pleasure in the growing blush on Dean’s face.

“Looking a little rosy there, Dean. This doesn’t tickle, does it?” Taunted the youngest of the three, skittering his fingers up to Dean’s ribs, knowing that was a tickle hot spot.

“SHUT UHUHUP! Y-YOU ARE SOHOHO GONNA GET IT!!”

Sam giggled a little in response. “You’re all talk, Dean. Aaall talk.”

The older hunter thrashed and kicked with all he had, but no matter how hard he tried, Sam and Castiel were far stronger when they worked together. That, and the overwhelming tingling sensations under his arms and on his ribs were driving him mad.

“KNOCK IT OHOHOFF!”

He shouted through his laughter, glueing his arms to his sides, only succeeding in trapping Castiel’s hands, though the fingers kept wriggling. This only seemed to make the sensation even more unbearable, but he just couldn’t raise his arms. His body wouldn’t let him.

“It is very difficult for me to 'knock it off' when you’re imprisoning my hands.” Castiel spoke in a blunt manner, wiggling his fingers harder for emphasis.

Dean let out a snort, throwing his head back in hysterics.

The incessant tickling was draining his energy and he could feel himself getting weaker and weaker as time went on.

Noticing the significant lack of force, Sam decided that now was the time.

He looked at the angel as if saying “get ready”. The angel nodded and ceased his tickling in favor of tightening his hold on Dean, recalling Sam’s earlier comments.

The youngest Winchester hovered his fingers above Dean’s hips, flexing his fingers playfully with a mischievous grin.

“Prepare yourself, big brother… this might tickle~” Sam taunted, eyes glittering with mischief.

“S-Sam, I swehehear… don’t you dAHAHAHARE- SON OF A BIHIHIHITCH!!” Dean howled with laughter, boisterous cackles filling the room as he bucked and jerked with renewed force, just as Sam said.

Sam drilled his thumbs into the divots of his older brother’s hips, digging into the hypersensitive bones, sending ticklish electricity coursing through Dean’s nerves.

Dean’s face was bright red by now, eyes watering with mirth.

Dean’s laughter wasn’t the only sound that filled the room; Sam and Cas joined in, one bright and boyish, the other warm and deep. Together, they performed a symphony of joy and silliness.

Seeing that Dean was struggling to breathe, the duo backed off, satisfied with their revenge.

Sam hopped over to sit beside Cas, putting some distance between him and his brother on the off chance that Dean decided he wanted revenge at this very moment.

Sam and Cas watched triumphantly as Dean tried to catch his breath.

Dean leaned against the arm of the couch, looking at his brother and angel.

“Hah.. I have to give you guys credit…” Dean panted.

“You got me prehehetty good…” He commended, crossing his arms and looking at the two with an impressed expression.

“Couldn’t have done it alone.” Sam gave the angel a nudge, grinning proudly.

“Well, as the saying goes… teamwork makes the dream work.”

Sam and Dean both laughed, the cheesy saying paired with Castiel’s monotone voice far too amusing.

Dean, having caught his breath, sat up, a certain spark in his eye.

“Well, I hope you two had fun… because when I’m done with you, you won’t be able to think straight for days~”

He wiggled his fingers tauntingly, noticing the way their eyes widened, Sam in particular looking rather nervous.

This was far from over.

#mess writes #tickletober #tickletober2023 #augtickletober2023 #tktober #tktober2023 #lee!dean #ticklish!dean #ler!sam #ler!sammy #ler!cas #ler!castiel #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural tickling #spn tickling #spn tickles #spn tickle fic #tickle community #tword content #sfw tickling #tickles #tickle fic #team free will #tfw

[august-anon]

Pray for Mercy

Tickletober 2022, Day 18: Chase [LATE]

this was actually the first fic i wrote for this year's tickletober, months ago when i first finished the prompt list, before i ever officially posted it lol. i have not reread or edited this! i simply do not have the time or energy unfortunately lol, but hopefully its alright and not too messy!

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Fandom: Supernatural

Ship(s): Destiel

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Dean/Ler!Castiel

Word Count: 2736 words

Summary: Dean should've known there were consequences to tickling an angel. Even one with such a cute, innocent smile like Cas.

[ao3 link]

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

Dean raced down the halls of the bunker, skidding around corners and almost slipping every other step thanks to only being in his socks. The bunker was supposed to be safe, after all. Why would he need to wear his big, heavy boots everywhere when he could finally live in comfort? Well, Dean certainly felt like a fool, now.

Had the bunker always been this complex? It felt like a labyrinth, unrecognizable and unending, trapping him no matter what turn he took. He thought he knew the place inside and now by now, explored all the nooks and crannies during the late nights where he couldn’t sleep knowing what horrors were awaiting him behind his eyelids. Apparently, he thought wrong. Or maybe that was just the scratch of fear slithering down his neck seeping into his mind, muddling things that he knew that he knew.

Footsteps echoed around him, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Truthfully, Dean couldn’t be sure if they were even real, or just a figment of his own mind, traitorously adding to his torment. In a blind moment of panic, he threw open a door on his left, whipping around to shut it as quietly as he could.

The room was dim, but it was quiet. In fact, his own heavy breathing sounded deafening against the concrete walls. He was tempted to hold his breath to hide it, not wanting to give away his position, but if he was found, Dean knew that he would need it. He backed slowly into the room, eyes trained on the door as he shuffled his feet, moving slowly and carefully so he wouldn’t bump into anything and alert anyone, or anything, to his current location. As long as he was quiet, he would be safe here. Please, let him be safe here.

There was a quiet ruffle of feathers behind him, and Dean barely had time to register the sound as danger before backing into a solid chest, not having caught himself in time to stop moving. He did, in fact, stop breathing for a moment, though.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Dammit, Cas, you–!”

Dean didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence, not that he really knew where he was going with it in the first place. He was quickly silenced – well, not silenced, more hindered – by Cas’s arms wrapping around him in a tight embrace, using the hold to sneak fingers into all the weak points he could reach along Dean’s sides and ribs.

Dean doubled over in his laughter, trying to claw Cas’s hands off his torso with weak and trembling fingers. Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, Dean was still offended when Cas’s hands crept high onto his upper ribs, making his arms slam down in an involuntary defense. He jerked his torso back and forth, trying to loosen Cas’s grip or dislodge him somehow, but Cas followed easily with every twist and turn. Dean wasn’t gonna get out of this so easily.

“Cas– come on!”

“Sorry, Dean, I can’t quite understand you through your laughter. Would you mind repeating that for me?”

Dean did, in fact, mind. Even if he hadn’t said anything worth repeating. So instead, bicep still pressed tightly to his ribs, Dean raised up his hand showing Cas his middle finger as best as he could.

Cas tutted. “Really, Dean, you should know better to antagonize me at this point. Did you really think you could get away with this morning’s antics without recompense?” 

Note to self: never play Scrabble with Cas.

“Now, do you regret it, yet?”

Dean shook his head. Hell, no. It had been hilarious. And maybe a little adorable. Not that Dean would admit that to Cas’s face. No, Dean would keep all his thoughts about Cas’s gummy smile and his bright, bubbly laughter all to himself, thank you very much. But he certainly didn’t regret it.

Cas sighed. “You will, eventually.”

And then, surprisingly, Castiel let him go. The torment stopped, his arms unwrapped from Dean’s torso, and he took a few steps back from where they had stood, pressed together from shoulders to hips. Dean wobbled and wavered for a moment, having to readjust to holding his weight up on his own again without Cas to steady him through his remaining giggles. He shot a confused look over his shoulder, but Cas stood there as impassively as ever, appraising Dean with a calculated look.

“You have a fifteen second head start,” Cas rumbled, raking his eyes over Dean’s body, “before round two begins.”

Dean’s eyes practically bugged out of his skull. “What?”

Castiel narrowed his own. “You heard me.”

Dean didn’t need to be prompted a third time. He turned tail and ran, damn his jellied legs and trembling knees to hell, sliding down the halls in his stupid patterned socks once more. He wondered if he had time to sneak into his room and change clothes, because he suddenly felt very bare in the t-shirt and boxers he’d been lounging around in all day with Sam being gone, or if Cas would corner him before he got the chance. Ultimately, Dean decided it wasn’t worth the risk, and he kept running, directionless. He could only hope it took Cas a little longer to find him, this time.

Dean was hardly even aware of the twists and turns he was taking, his only goal being “get as far away from Cas as possible,” so when he blindly whipped around a corner and slammed directly into Cas’s body, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d just gone around in a circle at some point. Either way, Cas let out a low, growling chuckle into his ear, this time sliding his hands up under Dean’s shirt in the embrace.

“Goddammit!” Dean spat.

“Now, now,” Cas said, his voice infuriatingly calm for how much Dean was struggling in his arms. “Let’s not bring my Father into this.”

“Asshole!”

Cas sighed. “You Winchesters never learn, do you?”

Dean let out a mortifying little yip as Cas’s fingers started spidering all over his back, jerking forward and only further encasing himself in Cas’s arms. He buried his face in Cas’s neck, not wanting Cas to have the pleasure or reward of seeing his face flush from the embarrassment of his own giggling.

“Tell me, Dean, which tickles more. This?” Cas scribbled and spidered his fingers all along the backs of Dean’s ribs and sides. “Or this?” He scratched his fingers ever-so-lightly up and down Dean’s back, the feel-good tingles warring with the building ticklish feeling into a dangerous combination.

“Both, you fucking– Cas!”

Apparently, answering both meant that Cas would do both, which Dean found entirely unfair. He whined through his giggles, so far past embarrassment (at least, for this round), squirming forward and back in Castiel’s grip like either direction would get him anywhere. And then, just as quickly as he swooped in, Cas vanished from his personal space, leaving Dean wobbling once more. He leaned against the wall for a second, trying to catch his breath through his giggles.

“You have ten seconds,” Cas said.

Dean’s head shot up. “Ten?!”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “I am being incredibly generous, giving you these head starts. Are you sure you wanted to waste your time arguing with me?”

A slew of expletives slipped out of Dean’s mouth. He pushed himself off the wall and bolted past Cas, nearly tripping over himself with how shaky his legs were. Dean had been a hunter his entire life, stalked by monster and man alike, but never before had he felt more like prey than this moment. How was Cas finding him so easily, every single time? All he needed was a moment to think.

He did not get that moment. Instead, he skidded to a stop on his stupid socks, almost falling on flat on his ass, as Castiel emerged from one of the doors ahead of him. He glanced over and walked in Dean’s direction, calm and cool and collected, and Dean felt himself get even more frazzled in return. He turned on his heel and sprinted in the opposite direction, chanting lose me, lose me in his mind all the while.

Only for Cas to emerge from a different door up ahead in this direction, once again starting a calm walk in Dean’s direction.

Dean felt a wave of indignance go through him, remembering all the things he’d read about humans being endurance hunters. How they would tire out their prey, track them calmly, letting the prey spook and race off, only to be found and repeat the process again. Eventually, the prey would tire out, be too exhausted to keep it up, and that was when the human would strike. Then again, the post Dean had read was about pet owners trying to catch their escaped cats, so who knew what the truth was to that.

Cas may not have been a human, but that just gave him a sharper advantage. As an angel, he couldn’t exactly tire, but Dean, the so-called endurance hunter, could. Cas was one of the only things above humans on the food chain, and Dean was about to become lunch. The endurance hunter becoming the endurance hunted.

God, it was fun. Not that he’d ever admit it, even under pain of death.

Dean whipped around and jogged down another hallway, taking a multitude of twists and turns to try and throw Cas off his trail. Then, because it had worked so well the first time, Dean picked a door and ran inside. He almost locked it, before remembering that it would only be a detriment to himself when he would inevitably have to run away again.

Dean tried to steady his breathing, backing slowly away from the door, before he remembered where that got him last time. He whipped around, eyes scanning the dark room and ears straining for the sounds of ruffling feathers. Don’t find me here, Dean pleaded in his mind. Don’t find me here, don’t even look here.

A quiet, rolling noise caught Dean’s attention, and he whirled around to see the doorknob turning ever-so-slowly. He spat out a quiet curse, glancing around the room for a hiding place and finding none. Ultimately, he decided to back up until his back hit the wall. At least this time, there could be no surprises from behind. The door opened with a creak, and Dean tried to wipe all the giddiness and nerves from his expression. He didn’t need to give Cas the satisfaction.

“Hello again, Dean.”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Cas quirked an eyebrow, walking forward again at that maddeningly slow pace. Dean didn’t see the point in running – the room was too small for him to dart around Cas to escape, and he’d just make a fool of himself in the process – so instead, he pressed himself further into the wall, trying to brace for the coming attack.

But the attack didn’t come, this time. Instead, Cas leaned forward and kissed him, slow and sweet and languid. Dean tried to keep his composure, but it was only seconds before he melted into it, closing his eyes and humming in contentment. Cas guided Dean’s arms up around his shoulders and wrapped his own arms around Dean’s waist, pushing him even further into the wall as he pressed their bodies together. Just when Dean felt like he couldn’t stand it another moment, his lungs getting the better of him after all the running and the repeated tickle attacks, Cas pulled back and he gasped in a few breaths of air.

“Hi,” Dean murmured, a slow smile spreading across his face.

Cas brushed their noses together. “Hi.”

Cas slid his hands back around so that they were resting lightly on Dean’s stomach and hips. Dean kept his own arms around Cas’s neck for the time being, trying to count the hues of blue in Cas’s eyes.

“Are we done, then?”

Cas quirked both eyebrows this time. “No. I was just trying to lower your guard.”

Dean’s face dropped. “Wha–?” 

He cut himself off with a gasp as a light, tingling sensation made itself known in his lower stomach and hips, radiating deep into the nerves. He grunted and shifted, trying to bring his hands down to defend himself, push Cas’s hands away, something, only to find that his arms were trapped around Cas’s neck, and he only succeeded in pulling Cas closer. Fucking angel mojo, tickling him with it and trapping him? That really wasn’t fair.

“You– asshole!”

“Just let go, Dean,” Cas mumbled, leaning forward to nuzzle his stubble into Dean’s neck. “You know you want to.”

Dean let out a choked sound with the added sensation on his neck, smushing his face down against Cas’s to try and push him out. All the while, the tingling beneath Cas’s hands only snuck deeper beneath his skin, growing and building on top of itself until it was almost unbearable, despite how light the feeling was. Against his will, strangled little snickers started bubbling up his throat and spilling from his lips.

“Damn you,” he bit out through it all. “How do you keep finding me so fast?”

Cas cocked his head to the side, the move far more innocent than Cas deserved to pretend to be, like a puppy who ate your lunch and was trying to make you forget all about it. Well Dean would not be forgetting, thank you very much, especially not while the puppy was still actively chewing on his damned sandwich right in front of him.

“Are you aware,” Cas said, “that you have been praying this entire time?”

If Dean could’ve frozen, he would have. Instead he was stuck squirming back and forth as his jaw dropped open, only widening the way for more laughter to escape as the light buzzing radiating out from his core threatened to consume him.

“What?!”

“Praying. Everytime you run, or try to hide, or think you hear me coming, you pray. For mercy, for guidance, for luck. And it seems I must be your default to pray to, because I heard every word, Dean. Every. Word.”

Fucking shit, how much did Dean push into those prayers? How much did Cas hear of his internal monologue? Just how screwed was he?

“You fucking cheat–”

“I don’t recall you establishing any rules. Do you?”

“There was no time–” Dean squealed, cutting himself off, as the tingling buzz swirled down and centered itself solely on his hips.

“Well, that’s your own fault, is it not?”

Oh fucking damn him. Cas played these games too well.

“Don’t worry, Dean. We both know you wouldn’t have wanted rules in the first place.”

“Fuck you.”

Cas retaliated with a raspberry directly in the crook of his neck. Dean’s knees went out, cackling and tearing up with the intensity of it all. Cas pushed into him, pinning him in place against the wall, not letting him have even that escape.

“Are you sorry yet?”

Sorry?? Sorry for what, crying all over his trench coat?

“For attacking me this morning?”

“Yes,” Dean cried out. “Yes! I’m sorry!”

Cas had mercy. He lifted his face out of the crook of Dean’s neck and pulled away his hands, sucking out the vibrations of his grace along with them. A moment later, the invisible bonds on Dean’s wrists and hands vanished and he was able to pull them back towards his body, rubbing away the ghostly feeling the grace tickles left behind.

“You have another ten seconds before round four begins.”

Dean blinked. “But– I said sorry!”

Cas stared at him, his gaze steady and calm. “I don’t believe you truly want this game to end.”

Dean didn’t know how to reply to that. He certainly would not be telling Cas that he was right.

“And since you seem so inclined to waste your headstarts, why don’t we make it five seconds, instead?” Cas smirked. “I suggest you run now, Dean.”

Dean wasn’t stupid enough to earn himself another penality, so he shoved Cas off him and he ran, a grin tugging at his sore cheeks all the while. He wondered what would be waiting for him at the end of the chase this round. He couldn’t wait to find out.

But that didn’t mean he was going to make it easy on Cas.

#augtickletober2022 #tickletober #tickletober 2022 #tickle fic #my writing #supernatural tickling #lee!dean #ler!castiel #ticklish!dean #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel

[nhasablogg]

Tickletober Day 13 - Blush

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean/Cas

A/N: What in the 2014 is going on here.

Words: 764

[Tickletober prompts]

Cas felt astounded by how colorful humanity was. How the trees shifted colors each year, how the sky could go from blue to golden to pink in a day. It all made sense, he wasn’t questioning it, but during those moments where he found himself able to actually breathe, so to say, it always caught him off guard.

Dean was colorful too. Red blood running in his veins and sometimes dripping from his skin. Green eyes looking at him so earnestly, and yet Cas knew Dean was hiding many things behind them, too. In Cas’ mind the secrets were dark blue, hidden in the dusk. Not yet ready to be seen.

Dean was pink sometimes, his skin heating from the blood that was rushing to his cheeks in what Cas knew was embarrassment, sometimes excitement, sometimes pure shyness. He didn’t see it often. It wasn’t in Dean’s nature, and yet he was blushing now, eyes avoiding Cas’ in a way he couldn’t understand.

“What is it?” he asked, because Dean had tried to turn away and Cas didn’t like that.

“Nothing.” Dean’s voice was steady, but his eyes still wouldn’t meet his own.

“What did I say?” For Cas often said things he didn’t realize were strange.

“Nothing.”

“Please, Dean.”

They were working on communicating, after spending two weeks not talking about why they kept kissing. They were working on it. It seemed to be easier for Cas than for Dean, but Cas tried to be gentle with him about it when he found Dean was pulling away.

Something flickered across his face and he finally met Cas’ gaze. “You just- kept bringing up my… sensitivity.”

Cas frowned. “I… did?”

Dean exhaled, something flustered and frustrated, as if he was angry at his own ability to feel. Silly man, Cas thought, finding feelings to be humanity’s greatest aspect.

“You-” Dean started, licking his lips, looking to the side, shaking his head, glancing back at Cas. “Forget it.”

“Dean.”

“You know how you discovered I’m, uh, ticklish the other day?”

“Yes.”

“You keep talking about it.”

“So? I find it endearing.” Cas truly did. Watching Dean dissolve into laughter just from Cas touching his hips in a particular way? It was his favorite part of humanity, how easily joy could sneak in. How unexpectedly.

“It’s embarrassing,” Dean spluttered out, face growing pinker, nearly red now.

Cas tilted his head. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh?”

Dean sighed. “It’s a human thing, I think. It kind of symbolizes weakness?”

“Which is embarrassing?”

“It’s a stupid weakness to have.”

“But I like it.”

“Well, you would,” Dean said, his blush changing form now, turning into something related to Cas and only Cas. It was softer, vulnerable in a way Cas knew Dean wouldn’t want to talk about if brought up. Not yet. 

Cas took a step closer so that he could run his finger over Dean’s blush, from his cheekbone to his jaw. “Tell me why you find it embarrassing.”

“I don’t know. Humans just sometimes do.” Dean leaned into his touch. “Feelings aren’t always rational.”

“Do you want me to not tickle you anymore?”

His blush intensified. Cas could nearly feel it burn his fingertips. “I didn’t say that. Just- don’t talk about it so casually, please.”

“Okay.” He let his hand travel down to Dean’s neck, feeling his pulse. “Are you ticklish everywhere?”

“Cas.”

“It’s not a casual question if there is a motive.”

“Oh, you have a motive now?”

“Yes.”

“Which is?”

“To hear you laugh.”

Dean wasn’t always pink. For much of the time he was golden, all beauty and small joys. The way his blush shifted now was also golden, despite all the redness. He was enjoying this, somewhere beneath all his timidness.

“I know your neck is sensitive,” he continued, curling his fingers over the skin and making Dean recoil. “I can tell when I kiss you there.”

“You’re too fucking much,” Dean said, but he didn’t move away when Cas reached out again.

“I’m pretty sure your ribs are also ticklish.” Cas let his fingers trail over his shirt, imagining each rib beneath it. “And your stomach. It keeps jumping out of my touch if I’m too gentle.”

“You’re being so mean to me right now.”

“And yet you’re not stopping me.” Cas grinned as Dean spluttered, reaching in to press his lips to his burning cheek. “It’s okay, Dean. I like that you’re letting me.”

“Do you have a crush on me or something?” Dean joked, a smile playing at his lips that Cas longed to properly coax out, eventually.

#tickling #ticklish!dean #destiel #augtickletober2022 #destiel fic #n writes #tickletober day 13

[wordstrings]

Loopy 5

A story of fluff and kink discovery. The third date. Word count: 5,100

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

(or read it on AO3)

—

Dean opens the shelter’s front door and enters chaos.

There are shouts. There are crashes. The display of collars and treat packs in the corner of the lobby is on its side with its products strewn across the floor like shattered glass. Footsteps are pounding away down the hall on his left. In front of him, Charlie is behind the service counter, standing precariously on the unstable seat of a swiveling office chair and squeaking down at her feet in dismay.

“What–” is all Dean gets out before a thunderous shout of “YOU FUCKER!” echoes out from the distant looper area, followed by a slamming door.

“Jailbreak!” Charlie chirps as she looks wildly about the floor below her. “One of the newer residents used to be a service looper and nobody told us. She opened her own crate and staged an uprising. Cas is–”

Another roar of frustration cuts through the halls. Some rooms away, something clatters.

“–is the only one who can wrangle them. I just go to a puddle if something tickles, and… no, get away, get out of here, you little monster!”

She grabs the pen behind her ear and hurls it at the floor somewhere behind the counter. There’s a scrabbling sound off to her right. Charlie yelps and grabs onto the chair’s backrest to keep from falling off, then starts scooting her weight atop the chair to make it roll a few inches in the opposite direction.

Never one to leave a lesbian in distress, Dean leans his palms on the counter and levers himself up a few inches to look down on the other side.

“Where is it?”

Charlie points toward the wastebasket. A slim black collar that looks like it belongs on a chihuahua is shuffling around in the empty space a few inches from the floor.

Dean vaults the counter and makes a grab for it. It evades; he swipes; it makes a break for the door; he dives after it.

“Gotcha.”

The invisible handful of wiggly looper grabs back at him, twining frantic tentacles around his wrist, his arm. Dean stands carefully and coos some soothing noises. A few soft strokes help the looper calm until its tentacles stop their grabbing and begin sliding gently between his fingers instead.

“Uh. What should I do with it?” he asks.

Charlie points out past the lobby as she climbs carefully down off the wobbly chair. “The crates in the looper room have numbers above each door. There should be a tag on that little guy’s collar that matches. If you think you can help Cas at all after putting that one back, just follow the yelling.”

Dean nods. “Will do.”

He tucks the looper into the crook of his arm like a football and begins picking his way out into the destruction. A tentacle or two rubs curiously at his elbow, but the poor thing is too stressed to do much more than that. He keeps petting it until they’ve reached the looper room. Locating the right crate is quick work, and once it’s secure with the wayward looper inside, he pauses to take in the rest of the room.

A good number of crates are still locked shut, but there are about a dozen vacant with doors hanging open. Dean hopes none of them were litters still being kept together. The staff will be hunting down teeny invisible looper pups for weeks if that’s the case.

A door opens somewhere out in the hallway. Dean steps out to see if he can help– and promptly gets hit by a truck.

A wide pink collar and trailing leash gallops away down the hall, leaving him flat on his ass and blinking spots from his eyes.

“I’m going to fucking– oh my god, Dean.”

Today is suddenly a million times better, because Cas is here. And touching him. Dean still feels a bit disoriented, but he manages to grin at his boyfriend.

(That term, applied to Cas, still makes him light up inside. He thought he’d gotten over the giddy bits, but it’s not like he’s required to tell anybody that, so who cares if it makes him feel a bit like a teen again. Boyfriend!)

“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, she’s an asshole–!” Cas calls accusingly down the hallway.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Dean insists, but accepts Cas’ hand in getting up. “Tell me how I can help.”

—

Nothing ever goes smoothly when Dean is around, Cas thinks. Not that it’s Dean’s fault – more like the universe has it out for Cas whenever Dean is present, always keeping him humble with a slip-up or complication out of his control.

Cas likes control. If there is a god, Cas decides they hate each other.

Even with Dean’s help, it’s an exhausting round-up getting the loose loopers wrangled. By the end of it, Cas has almost forgotten the whole reason Dean’s here in the first place: picking him up for their third date.

He feels grimy and tired. Humble.

Dean is nothing but gracious, offering small soothing touches and opening doors so Cas doesn’t have to. It’s a mercy that their plans involve takeout and a movie at Dean’s place. Cas would be a terrible date tonight if anything more socially strenuous were required of him.

—

There’s a lot to learn about a person when observing their living space.

Cas already knows Dean wears leather jackets and drives a muscle car, so the classic masculinity of his apartment is no surprise. The cleanliness, though, is unexpected. Not to say that there isn’t some clutter; the mail slot on the wall is packed with cockeyed junk mail, a corner of the coffee table holds short stacks of magazines, some piece of electronic equipment is laid open like a surgery patient on one end of the dining table. But there are no dirty dishes stacked in the sink, no haphazard piles of clothing on the floor. Dean keeps his space in order, making Cas feel like a comfortable guest rather than a surprise intruder.

The movie collection is, as promised, epic. Cas has visited his share of theaters for new releases, but he’s typically more of a channel-surfer in his entertainment choices. Dean, though, is clearly a movie buff, and the triple-wide bookcase that owns the space beneath the wall-mounted TV is lined with disc cases. They’re meticulously arranged in alphabetical order, with a tasteful selection of pop figures acting as occasional bookends. Framed posters of Indiana Jones and Han Solo look down on everything in approval.

Dean has a faint look of pride as he watches Cas take it all in.

“So what can I interest you in?” he asks, gesturing grandly. “Action, sci-fi, western, fantasy?”

The choices are somewhat overwhelming. Cas’ eyes skim the shelves, unsure where to even begin. He must look out of his depth, because Dean claps his shoulder and softens the demand with,

“Tell you what. I’ll grab us some drinks and takeout menus while you think about it.” He turns and heads into the kitchen. “Soda, beer, iced tea?”

“Water is fine,” Cas answers distractedly.

“Seriously?”

Cas rolls his eyes and continues scanning the choices. Sue him for trying to avoid excess sugar at night. He doesn’t even know most of these titles, and reading them over and over isn’t really helping him choose. “Yes, seriously.”

“The hell’s wrong with you. Water,” Dean scoffs amid the clinking of glassware.

At some point, Cas will figure out how to respond with wit to Dean’s teasing, instead of just having intrusive flashes of the man whining beneath him.

He’s still squinting at the rows of movies when Dean plops a glass on the end table behind him.

“One boring-ass water as requested. See anything you like?”

Cas pointedly turns his head to eye Dean up and down. It feels forward, but he thinks he’s allowed, now that they’re something official. Plus, the way Dean is comfortable in his own space is different from the ease he displays elsewhere out in the world. His posture melts into something a little more fluid and he moves with less direct purpose. He’s nice to look at all the time, but in here there’s an openness that’s very attractive – and makes Cas itch to swoop his way in.

Cas finishes his once-over and hums noncommittally.

Dean plays at being offended and makes to cover his chest in modesty. He grabs up a remote to turn on the TV.

“If you’re gonna be picky, we could play a video game instead, but I need you to tell me right now if you don’t like my taste in movies. Because then I’d have to kick you out.”

Cas eyes him. He’s never been one to rise when baited, but for some reason, it’s difficult not to respond when Dean is the one baiting him.

“You could try,” he says – as though he’d have any hope of not getting his ass kicked if Dean really put his mind to it. The guy’s arms are unfair; Cas has never really stopped calling him “lumberjack” in his head. He looks back at the shelf and continues, “But I’ve never actually seen any of these, so I can’t say for sure whether your taste is any good.”

“What? Okay, maybe I do need to kick you out. But only after, uh…” Dean steps up behind his shoulder to look closer. “A New Hope, or maybe Karate Kid. Unless you’re more of a Princess Bride guy.”

“I… don’t know what ‘kind of guy’ I am.”

“Sounds like a personal problem.”

There’s that low, teasing tone that always makes Cas’ spine tingle. The heat at his back presses in as Dean’s arm reaches over his shoulder to pluck a DVD from the shelf.

“Karate Kid it is. Let your education commence,” Dean says.

“Maybe after you point me to your restroom? Otherwise I’ll need a hall pass after act one.”

“Sure, just there to the left. We can talk food when you get back.”

—

As he exits the bathroom, Cas tips his head to one side, trying to relieve the lingering tightness in his neck. Further, further… crack-k-k. He groans with the release.

Dean frowns from the couch and sets down a handful of takeout menus. “You okay?”

Cas rolls his shoulders. “I spent over an hour chasing down troublemakers with tentacles, after cleaning out dog kennels all day. I’m alright, just sore.”

“Want me to work that out for you?” Dean pivots sideways on the couch and pats the space in front of him. “C’mere.”

“I didn’t know you were a chiropractor as well as a mechanic,” Cas says. It’s an invitation he can’t refuse, though, so he sits.

Dean slides in close and arranges his knees around Cas’ hips. “Ha. Years of wrestling with rusty bolts on a daily basis means my grip strength is pretty good. Let me know if anything hurts, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

Dean’s hands are confident from the first touch. He strokes flat palms down and up Cas’ back, out and in along the angle of his shoulders, then starts pressing in with strong thumbs. Cas grunts pleasantly, until both of Dean’s hands direct a slow, rolling squeeze into the muscle on either side of Cas’ nape, which is just divine.

“Oh, there… that… that’s…”

Cas�� eyelids flutter and the rest of his sentence floats away from him. His body shuts down, like somebody’s walking through his veins and flicking off every light switch along the way. The only lights that stay on are along his nape, glowing with low-burning firelight that invites cozying up and staying a while. His boyfriend’s fingers are pressing unfiltered pleasure deep into his flesh. It’s rich, resonant, and just so... good. He’s had some great sex, sure, but those touches have always served to gear him up, not power him down. Nobody has touched him like this before. This… this is pure indulgence, and he is helpless beneath its sway.

Cas whimpers when Dean pushes firm, raking fingers up the sides of his neck and into his hair. They scratch, and drag, and press together to tug just so on the hairs caught in between the knuckles, and Cas finds himself making sounds he’s only ever made with his head pressing back into a pillow.

“You sure know how to make a guy feel appreciated, Cas,” Dean says, voice low and smiling.

“This is…” Cas breaks off with another weak noise. “O-oh…”

“Jesus.”

Cas tries to open his eyes. It only partially works, the room a soft blur beyond his lashes. “Hm?”

Dean’s hands continue to work his neck, the curve at the base of his skull, the tender skin behind his ears. “Nothin’, just… wasn’t quite expecting to learn your bedroom sounds tonight.”

“Mmm,” Cas manages in response. “You are… very good at this.”

Dean chuckles. “You’re gonna love finding out what other things I’m good at.”

“Ahh… mm. Me, too.”

“‘You too’ what?”

Cas purrs as Dean’s thumbs roll along his vertebrae. “You’ll love what I can do to you, too.”

Dean’s hands falter. “Y’know, Cas, I’m trying to be a gentleman, here. But the things that come out of your mouth…”

Cas hums a laugh. If they end up getting distracted and don’t make it to the movie part of the evening, he can’t say he’ll be disappointed.

With a huff that might be amusement, or exasperation, or possibly both, Dean continues massaging the length of his trapezius muscle, from his shoulder up his neck and back again. The heavier touches are interspersed with gentle, clawed scratches on his skin that encourage Cas’ head to roll forward in surrender to gravity. The further forward he goes, the softer the scratches gradually become. They feel heavenly.

A fingertip skates up through his hair behind his ear and the back of Cas’ skull fizzles. A helpless shudder fires down his spine.

“Oh, did I find your tingle spot?” Dean asks with a smile in his voice.

“My wh–aah,” Cas wheezes as Dean scritches there again, too-light and too-wonderful. His shoulders snap up with a violent shiver. Holy hell, nothing has ever felt like that before and his body can’t decide if it’s unbearable or too decadent for words.

“Your tingle spot,” Dean says. “Makes your whole head vibrate and feels freakin’ amazing. It’s kinda fickle though; doesn’t always work the same way all the time. Probably for the best… If I knew the secret formula, I’d go broke shooting up with it and using one of those wire head massagers ‘til I wasted away like a rat with an orgasm button.”

Barely half of that makes sense but Cas can’t process any more because Dean’s fingers are magic and his nervous system is lighting off a continuous finale of fireworks that is absolutely incapacitating. Every inch of skin prickles with goosebumps. He’s vaguely aware that he’s holding himself, hunched over his own lap, in danger of shaking apart like a shuttle re-entry gone wrong.

“Oh my god,” Cas chokes out. “Dea– hhhuuuh…”

Dean spider-scribbles that spot through his short hair with three fingertips, and it’s too much but Cas couldn’t possibly put a stop to it even as he shiver-trembles to bits. Orgasm button, indeed.

He’s suddenly gripped by a raw desire to hold Dean down and exploit his tingle spot while Dean gasps and shudders beneath him.

“Dean,” Cas keens, scrabbling a hand up behind his neck to take Dean’s wrist and–

“Alright, sorry,” Dean laughs and, in a tragic misinterpretation, stops and rubs him soothingly instead. “We’ll get back to the relaxing parts.”

Tragedy on top of tragedy, the contrast feels so nice that Cas can only sigh. Flipping Dean down onto his belly will have to wait.

There are fingernails scraping deliciously along Cas’ neck again, up into his hair and back down, in and out along the tops of his shoulders, resolving into deep rubs that press out the lingering tension like squeezing out a sponge.

“Mff. I’d sleep so much better if this happened every night,” Cas mumbles.

Knuckles drag firm lines down his spine, all the way to the low lumbar where they dig circles of just-right pressure. Dean makes a considering sound.

“I certainly wouldn’t mind doing this more often,” he says.

“…Yeah?” Cas says eloquently.

“Yeah.” One of Dean’s fingers nudges questioningly under the hem of Cas’ shirt. “Would, uh… would underneath be okay?”

Cas catches a breath. “Please.”

Dean's hands slip beneath his shirt and Cas melts.

A butterfly formation of ten warm fingertips drags along the naked skin of his lower back. Cas’ breath purrs its way out of his throat as the touch divides out to his flanks and rejoins toward his spine. Once again, the way Dean touches him is foreign – and gloriously so. These aren’t hard scratches or directing pulls. They inspire goosebumps up his sides and flutters from his eyelids. Dean explores his back slowly, drifting in long sweeps and gentle arcs. Cas can’t seem to stop humming with every exhale.

And Dean wants to do this more? Cas will pack a suitcase tomorrow and live on Dean’s couch indefinitely, becoming one with the cushions over months and years, so long as he gets that more.

Fingers skim along his shoulder blade and Cas’ hum leaps an octave.

His top half has jolted forward, shoulders folding back as if to protect themselves, and he didn’t consciously do any of it. A vague afterimage of some sharp-bladed sensation lingers where Dean touched.

What the hell was that?

“Whoa,” Dean says, startled, then, “Wait.”

One of his arms hooks around Cas’ stomach. The other hand skitters curiously across his shoulder blade again.

Cas’ torso revolts. A high, panicked sound bolts out of him as his spine tries to emergency exit through his chest. But Dean’s arm clamps tight, holding him in place.

“Oh my god,” Dean exclaims, “did I find a tickle spot?”

Hell if Cas knows, but holy shit, that’s so much more than the tingle spot. Dean’s fingers scribble eagerly and Cas abruptly loses all rational control of his body. He squirms and yelps like a madman, elbows flinging backward, back arching. Dean laughs excitedly, and before Cas knows it, he’s laughing too, helplessly full and loud as his limbic system pulls the trigger on fight-or-flight like a machine gun but Cas isn’t succeeding at either. If the tingle spot was fireworks, this is a lightning storm, miles wide and high and striking him through like the violent force of nature it is. Oh god, it– it tickles!

Dean’s trying to keep him caught, losing the battle with one arm versus Cas’ two, but he manages to fold a leg over Cas’ lap. He’s trying to bring up the other, too, and Cas’ instincts go feral to keep it from locking around him and sealing his fate. He torques and twists, grabbing at Dean’s arms, half-hysterical with laughter and desperation. They wrestle wildly as Cas twists himself around, needing to block Dean’s hands from his back. He shoves and snatches at Dean’s wrists, gets purchase on one, flails defensively at the other. They’re facing each other now, Cas up on his knees and kicking his leg over Dean’s so it can’t hook him from behind.

Now this is exhilarating: fighting Dean down while they both sputter and laugh. Dean is fantastically strong, and maybe if Cas hadn’t gotten turned around so quickly this would be heading for a different outcome. But he’s hopped up on adrenaline, and Dean is laughing too much to really strategize, so Cas is coming out on top (metaphorically and literally) as the tussle progresses.

And, of course, what better way to turn the tables than to start tickling Dean in retaliation?

The first tweak at his side makes Dean shout with laughter and fall back into the cushions. Cas launches a full assault, then, scribbling furiously at his ribs and belly and armpits while Dean swats back at him and tries to block too many spots at once.

“Help!” Dean cries, giggling all the while. “I’m being attacked! No, no, fuck! No, wait, you’re actually ticklish, you gotta let me– ahah!”

Cas is going to let him do nothing. His blood is pumping now, and having Dean thrashing and shrieking beneath him is the most intense hit of euphoria he’s ever had in his life. He crams his hands into every crevice Dean tries to defend until Dean’s just got his arms locked over his chest as he wails with laughter. His legs kick a pillow to the floor while he throws his head back, cackling with eyes squeezed tightly shut. Cas crab-claws ruthlessly down his side, and suddenly Dean’s thigh is slamming repeatedly into Cas’ ass and Dean is jackknifing up at him.

“Shit, no!” Dean frantically tries folding in half to make a squashed Cas sandwich. He scrabbles for Cas’ hand with fresh desperation. “Fuck you, fuck you, fffahaha!”

Down by his hip is evidently a weak spot. Cas grins ferociously.

He rolls his upper body to one side and reaches around behind Dean to grab Dean’s opposite shoulder. In a heave of motion, he throws himself back to center and bodily whips Dean facedown on the couch. A quick scoot backwards onto Dean’s thighs, and he can plow both hands down under the sides of Dean’s hips to tickle him there mercilessly.

Dean screams into the upholstery. His arms ram down to grapple with Cas’ hands. Cas shoots up to his ribs to throw off the counterattack, then bounces right back down again. Clawing into the joint at the top of Dean’s thigh makes him buck; kneading the pelvic bone makes him roar so desperately that Cas is sure he’s trying to hulk out. Cas rides every kick and spasm as Dean bows up and crashes down and laughs himself hoarse.

And all of that is from tickling through layers of cloth and denim. Cas wishes he could blink Dean nude. But barring that, he can at least ruck up the back of Dean’s shirt and burrow beneath it, which he does.

Dean gasps, chokes, “Worse! Worse, that’s so much worse, oh-ho-ho my god!”

The feel of his skin beneath Cas’ hands is rapturous. Cas tries spidering lighter strokes in the areas that aren’t jammed against couch or elbow. They don’t make Dean thrash as hard, but his laughter ratchets up the scale until he’s giggling madly, which is no lesser an aphrodisiac.

Cas tickles him, and tickles him, and tickles him, tearing more shreds of his strength away as the minutes tick on. He tries every spot he can reach, even up between Dean’s shoulders to see if that works on him, but nothing compares to how Dean loses his mind when his hips are tickled. So Cas always comes back to them, pinching and kneading and scribbling. The generous front pockets of Dean’s jeans offer plenty of room for wicked wiggling fingers, allowing Cas to find what new noises of mirthful anguish Dean is capable of making.

Soon, Dean is nothing but a weakly writhing mess, wheezing and sniggering with one hand pawing feebly at Cas’ wrist and the other fisted up by his head, too tired to pound the cushions any longer. The side of Dean’s face not pressed into the couch is streaked with damp lines and the heated flush of exertion. His eyebrows are knit up in overwhelm, his eyes scrunched and wet, his weary tortured grin glowing handsomely beneath laugh-tired cheeks.

Not even the loopers have managed to wring Dean out so thoroughly. He’s the most gorgeous fucking thing Cas has ever seen.

The draw is irresistible; Cas plants a hand on the cushion and bows down to hungrily kiss the side of his mouth.

Dean makes another spent noise before catching up and flimsily trying to return the kiss in confusion.

“Are… are you done?” he pants.

His mouth, however tired, is still enchanting and Cas continues chasing it for dopey kisses. “Mm-hmm.”

Dean whines out a sound of utter relief and goes boneless.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbles.

Cas nuzzles his cheek, kissing up the angle of his jaw. He spreads his knees to let his weight drop and settle across Dean’s back. His arms curl up around Dean’s shoulders to rub gently with his thumbs as he noses his way into the hot, inviting crook of Dean’s neck. More kisses are due, there on his neck and up on his ear and down on his shoulder.

Cas lavishes affection on him, because he’s so very good, so beautiful, so amazing in taking everything without begging Cas to stop.

Not even once. Cas noticed.

Being splayed in full-body contact over Dean’s broad back is a cuddle for the ages, especially as the buzz dissipates and the day’s fatigue sets in. Cas nuzzles in below his boyfriend’s ear and closes his eyes with a sigh. The urge is there to nibble something sensitive until Dean crumbles into giggles again, but Cas knows he’s earned some rest.

Dean folds up one arm to grasp clumsily at Cas’ hand curled on his shoulder and sags with a sigh of his own.

—

Dean jerks awake. He can’t breathe. He’s being crushed by a bus, his ribs are cracking, there’s no air–

“Cas,” he gasps, flailing a hand back over his shoulder. “Cas, you gotta get off me, I’m dying…”

There’s a startled snuffle behind his neck. “Mm?”

“Can’t breathe,” he croaks. Which isn’t completely accurate, the more his body comes awake; it’s just strained and uncomfortable with a full-grown man sprawled on top of him. “Gotta get up.”

Cas grunts and wriggles toward the couch back, sliding over the curve of Dean’s side and nestling on top of his arm instead. Circulation is a lower priority than oxygen so it’s fine for the moment.

“We fell asleep,” Dean says, as if that weren’t obvious. He levers up on his elbow and rubs at his eyes with the heel of his hand. His tear ducts feel gluey. “What time is it?”

Cas wrinkles his nose with a sniffle. He almost clocks Dean in the head when he swings his wrist up to look at his watch.

“Um. Late.”

“Shit, we didn’t even eat. You’ve gotta be starving. Let me see what I’ve got in the pantry.”

He moves to sit up, but Cas grabs his shoulder to stop him.

“You know, technically,” Cas says, with his eyes drooping like he’d be happy to lay back and spend the whole night on this cramped, secondhand sofa, “we just slept together. Didn’t even make it to the dinner-and-a-movie part first.”

Dean shuts him up with a grinning kiss. Cas, the bastard, takes advantage, slipping down onto his back and hooking his arms behind Dean’s neck to pull him back down.

God, the way Cas kisses makes Dean weak. Cas had been kissing him earlier, but Dean could hardly have been called an active participant (because fuck, Cas had leveled him, and that’s more to come back to later); this is really the first time they’re making out while horizontal. And Cas is a full-body kisser, communicating with the entirety of himself in ways Dean isn’t even sure he could consciously pick out but are thrumming loud and clear. Cas might be flat on his back, but he’s definitely the one in charge. He is the ocean, and Dean is merely a boat riding the swells.

Dean thinks he might enjoy not being the one in charge.

But his stomach is gurgling.

“Hey, so,” he mumbles into Cas’ mouth. “One of those things I’m good at is cooking. It’s a little late for a three-course meal, but I could scramble us some eggs.”

Cas hums hungrily. He dips under Dean’s chin and l-l-licks a long line up his throat. All the air punches out of Dean’s chest as Cas murmurs, “That sounds delicious.”

Fuck, how is Dean ever supposed to get off this couch?

Looking back down at Cas is a mistake. Dean is immediately thrown back to their time in the trees last week, when Cas had looked ready to devour him. But this time, Cas’ expression is even more hooded, and he’s got his arms coiled like pythons around Dean’s neck, and Dean knows what it feels like to be helpless under him–

He actually whines when Cas slides a hand down to his chest and gives him an encouraging shove. Which he is not proud of, but the way it sharpens something in Cas’ eyes immediately takes away the embarrassment and hot-swaps it for something tingling.

“I prefer my eggs over-easy, actually,” Cas says. “For future reference.”

Dean will be lucky if he can remember where his own damn fridge is, let alone retain any other information right now. But he fumbles his way to standing, because whatever Cas wants, Dean is going to give. That’s just being a good host, he thinks, even as his neurons totter like newborn foals trying to figure out how the ground works. Cas is getting up to follow him, stretching his arms high towards the ceiling and arching his back, limber in a way that belies his muscled shoulders and thighs.

Shoulders. Right. That’s what started all this.

God, Dean needs to get hands on him again ASAP. Cas has been settling into that confidence of his the more time they spend together – which is hot as hell, actually – but cracking that in-control demeanor with a spike of laughter is mouth-watering. Dean wants to explore that crack like a careful archaeologist, dusting away the powdered rock to expose the precious thing hidden beneath.

He’ll make it happen. Somehow.

But first, he’s gotta cook some eggs without crumpling over when Cas benignly slides an arm around his waist, whether or not that cocked brow implies threat. He has to trust that Cas isn’t going to tickle him while he’s wielding a hot pan – though the path between the stove and the fridge appears to be fair game. Cas spends some time pacing alongside him, some time leaning against the counter, all the time watching him with eyes that are attentive and somewhat tender. It’s filling Dean back up, bit by bit, in the drained space inside where all his energy had been before takeout was forgotten. It feels good.

This kitchen has seen Dean dance, and sing, and maybe even cry once or twice. Now, he thinks it’ll see him laughing a lot more.

#series: Loopy #Loopy 'verse #stringswork #tickle fic #ticklish!Dean #Dean Winchester #Castiel #ticklish!cas #Supernatural #Destiel #AU #TFW adopts a monster #Loopy 5

[supermarvel-fics]

I have no weaknesses

Dean Lee Romantic

Reader knows better and proves him wrong maybe going kinda hard and getting his worst spot.

"I have no weaknesses," Dean said flatly. You whipped around quickly from where you were making the bed, one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

"No? No weaknesses?" The corner of your lips turned upward into a small smile, recognizing your boyfriends complete lie.

"None. Nada," He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes boring into yours. You took a few steps toward him and placed your hands on your hips.

"Right, so all those times you said Sammy and I were your weaknesses, you were... what?"

"Okay, well that's different-"

You cut him off. "And I seem to recall one little fact about you that I know would bring you to your knees if anyone were to exploit it..."

Dean scrunched his face up, trying so desperately to remember what it was you were referring to. You stood up on your toes to be face to face with him, placing a small kiss onto his lips.

"Mm..." Dean hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist. "I don't think I want anyone to exploit that weakness except for you, sweetheart."

"Not that," You whispered against his lips. "This..."

With deadly precision, you pinched at Dean's sides, grinning as he yelped and twisted away from you. "Wohohoah! Hey!"

"So, no weaknesses, huh?" You teased, continuing to skitter your fingers across Dean's belly. "Because if you got captured and a monster were to find out about this... you'd be as good as dead, babe."

Dean pivoted around, switching places so that he was once where you stood, which only gave you a better opportunity to push him onto the freshly made bed so you could scramble on top of him.

"Noho one is going to... to.." Dean stuttered. You were a force to be reckoned with. Strong, smart, stealthy. Maybe that's why he fell for you so hard. So, pinning Dean down on his back and keeping him there wasn't much of a challenge for you.

"I don't know, Dean, I think we better train you for this weakness of yours," You pondered. Your hands found his hips, thumbs drilling circles into the soft skin next to the bones.

"BAHABE! NOHOHO!" Dean yelled through his laughter. He bucked up, attempting to throw you off of him. "OHOKAY. I HAVE WEAKNEHESSES!"

You giggled at his reaction and stopped tickling him, watching in awe as your boyfriend caught his breath.

"You have plenty of weaknesses. As does everyone else. It's nothing to be ashamed of," You smiled, crawling up his body to kiss him again. Dean groaned, but still kissed you back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

————————————————————————

my first supernatural fic!!!! spn has been such a constant in my life and i’m so happy i got a request for them <3

#supernatural #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural tickle #spn fanfic #spn fic #spn tickle #dean winchester tickle #dean winchester #lee!dean #ler!reader #ticklish!dean #tickle prompts #sentence prompts #tickle drabble

[inkaddict1978]

Tickletober 2022 Day 9: Trapped

Poker nights and (one sided) tickle fights.

Cas’s POV:

It was their bi-weekly Friday night poker game, Sam taking his turn hosting. All of their friends were gathered around Sam’s card table in his living room… Charlie, Jo, Benny, Gabe, and Balthazar. Snacks were spread across the table, along with a slew of empty and currently nursed beer bottles. Although there was plenty of room for an additional chair, Cas had planted himself on Dean’s lap, never wanting to stray too far from him. He was sitting centered, legs bracketing Dean’s, feet planted firmly on the floor so as to take some of the pressure off, not wanting Dean’s legs to fall asleep from the weight of a grown man crushing them. Dean didn’t seem to mind the intrusion, glancing around Cas’s shoulder to view the cards laid on the table, deciding whether to play or to fold. Cas, never the lucky one of the pair, wasn’t playing and was starting to get restless.

It was a quiet night, the occupants of the small room focused intently on the game at hand, not much conversation taking place. He shifted his weight while fidgeting, hands pressed into Dean’s knees, and heard a sharp intake of breath behind him. Never one to pass up a chance to make his love smile, he paused for a beat, then drummed his fingers just once. Cas could feel Dean tensing beneath him, breath momentarily hitching in his throat. He could imagine the twitch of Dean’s lips as tried to hide his smile. Playing innocent, Cas lifted his hands, snuggling back into Dean’s chest, lulling him into a false sense of security, feeling Dean relax beneath him.

The card game continued, the sound of cards shuffling, being dealt and then laid against the table a calming backdrop to the low rumble of conversation taking place among the group. Dean was swept back into the game, paying no attention to the smirk growing on Cas’s face. Cas waited until Dean was thoroughly distracted by the cards being laid down on the table, taking in his own hand to decide his fate. He shifted forward and began pinching Dean’s knees rapidly, squeezing fingers firmly on either side of both knees caps.

Taken by surprise, Dean let out a squawk, followed by a stream of bubbly giggles. Encouraged by the adorable noises escaping his boyfriend, Cas continued pinching, spidering over the tops of Dean’s knees as well. Dean flailed as much as the weight of a grown man on top of him would allow, legs kicking out on reflex. Leaning forward, chest pressed into Cas’s back, head tucked into his shoulder, trying to hide his snickers, Cas felt Dean try to reach around him to set his cards down. To free up his own hands, for protection or revenge, Cas wasn’t sure, but he assumed probably a little of both, and he surely wasn’t going to chance the latter. Cas glanced behind him and saw the exact moment Dean’s face morphed into realization of how utterly screwed he was, and Cas couldn’t help but snicker himself at the look of panic.

Cards missed the table’s edge, falling to the floor while Dean tried latching onto Cas’s hands to stop the tickling, to no avail. That’s when the pleading started. Bubbly cries of stop, and please, were mixed within Dean’s loud laughter. Dean chanted Cas’s name over and over again like a prayer, Cas, Cas, Cas, the word laced with mirth, and music to Cas’s ears. If it was meant to deter Cas, it wasn’t working, rather fueling his desire to draw out more laughter. Dean had given up trying to stop the attack, instead trying to launch a counter attack of his own. He got in a few random pinches to Cas’s sides, but that only encouraged Cas to tickle faster and harder, causing Dean’s giggles to take on a high pitched, squeaky quality, the longer he went without a full breath.

Cas decided to give Dean a moment’s break, pausing his wriggling fingers. Dean gulped in air, giggling shakily in between breaths. A few moments passed, and Dean’s breathing slowed. Cas deemed Dean sufficiently recovered, and not chancing an opportunity for retaliation, wasted no time, pushing his back flush against Dean’s chest, pinning him against the back of the chair. Dean didn’t have time to react before Cas was reaching behind him and tweaking Dean’s hips and any worry Cas had of Dean tickling him back was forgotten. Dean had his head thrown back, shaking it wildly, smile shining brightly, cackles bouncing around the previously silent room. Tears formed in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over with every squeeze of Cas’s fingers. Dean clawed at Cas’s hands, but it did little to deter him.

The group just watched in awe as two grown men had a full blown tickle fight.

Dean’s POV:

Dean didn’t know how he’d gotten himself into this mess. One minute he’d been playing a relaxing game of poker, enjoying a beer with his boyfriend snuggled in his lap, next thing he knew he was getting the snot tickled out of him. Dammit Cas. His knees weren’t even that bad, but the relaxed mood Dean was in, paired with the few beers he’d already consumed, had him belting out laughter quicker than usual. He tried losing the cards in favor of returning the attack, but the effort was futile. If only he could gain some leverage, get more than a few pokes and prods into the Angel’s own ticklish sides, but Cas was Not. Letting. Up. and Dean’s need to protect his own sensitivities was winning out over any chance at retaliation. He could do nothing but giggle his poor head off and wait for Cas to have mercy.

Just when Dean thought that time would never come, the Angel retracted his hands. Distracted by his efforts to calm himself down and momentary thoughts of revenge, Dean didn’t notice Cas shift back against him until it was too late. As Cas latched onto his worst spot, Dean had a moment to internally panic. Shit, shit, shit! Not the hips! And then he was gone. Cackling like a madman, Dean was sure this was how he would die. Tickled to death by an Angel in his lap. As the world blurred out around him, eyes squeezed shut and tears forming in the corners, his mind could register nothing but the electricity tweaking through his hips. And as he was driven beyond hysterics, Dean silently vowed to never let Cas sit on his lap again. Until next time of course…..

Complete inner monologue because I cannot write dialogue to save my soul.

Not signed up for tickletober but this was stuck in my head.

#destiel #dean winchester #castiel #ticklish!dean #tickle fic #tickletober2022 #deancas

[carrie-tate]

I had a vision...

It's time to draw something for supernatural

#I bet that cas also have ticklish hips. yeap #art #spn #dean winchester #castiel #tickle art

[iamawolfstarsimp]

Sup bitches im back

And I've come bearing gifts of yet another spn fic (I'm in my active writing era 😌💅)

(this is set in season 13 or 14)

So yeah enjoy

Jack was a curious kid, obviously. It was no secret the kid loved to learn about most anything and everything. Even just listening sometimes was enough for him.

Once Dean had gotten attached to the kid, he didn't really mind answering all of Jack's questions.

Jack was especially curious whenever he was allowed on a hunt with them, wanting to know everything about what kind of monster they were hunting.

On an ordinary day though, Jack was more quiet. You could usually find him in his room reading while listening to rock music (Dean had told him that it was the only 'good' kind of music) or watching cartoons on the TV that Cas had given to him from his room. Mostly, they all kept to themselves on the days between hunts.

But often times Dean would gather everyone in the living room area for a movie night while they ate dinner. Cas would usually make some kind of warm drink after they all ate, Dean always got to pick the movie (regardless of how many protests were shouted at him), Sam had taught Jack how to make popcorn and Jack used that skill whenever he got the chance, and Sam took the opportunity to just relax on the couch with them.

Often times Sam would fall asleep during the movie, and Dean would bitch about it afterwards as loudly as he could. Jack had recently taken up Sam's habit though. Every time they all sat down to watch something you'd turn around Jack was dozing off, usually leaning against someone's shoulder.

As cute as it was, Dean couldn't stand for Jack to miss the death star exploding.

Dean had been chosen that evening as Jack's human pillow, so it was easy enough to reach over and poke him several times in the side to try and rouse him.

Jack shifted over and ignored the pokes, snuffling into Dean's arm.

Dean repeated the action a few more times, until he noticed a small sleepy smile on Jack's face that he was trying to hide.

Dean hummed quietly but let the kid sleep, saving that information for later.

After the movie ended (and, yes, Jack did miss the exploding of the death star but it wasn't like this was his first time seeing A New Hope) they all stayed seated, relaxed in their spots making idle conversation.

Jack was now awake, listening to Sam and Cas' conversation about which star wars movie was the best. Dean turned his attention from the pair to look at Jack.

"I can't believe you-" Dean said, rapidly poking Jack's side causing the kid to curl up and swat and Dean's hand. "fell asleep during the best star wars movie and the best part of it."

"I didn't mean to!" Jack giggled, using one hand to protect his side the other to hold onto Dean's hand.

"Mhm, sure you didn't." Dean eyerolled, now launching a full on tickle attack on Jack.

Dean leaned over and dragged Jack into his lap, using one his hands to hold his outer arm above his head leaving his entire left side exposed. His free hand darted around Jack's torso, tickling as many places as he could. Jack attempted to grab Dean's hand but was too slow to catch him and couldn't predict correctly which spot Dean was going to go to next so he just resorted to holding onto Dean's forearm and trying to control his laughter.

"Do you know how to play guitar, Jack?" Dean asked while still tickling him.

"No!" Jack said through his giggles.

"Well, what we have here," Dean pat Jack's stomach. "is a good old fashioned guitar."

Jack's eyebrows knitted together in confusion, his head tilting to the side.

"~Juuust gotta make sure it's in tune before I can play anything on it, of course." Dean grinned at him.

He held his right hand as if he had a guitar pic in his hand and pressed his fingers against Jack's ribs. He pretended to "play" the guitar, Jack's ribs being the strings.

He tested different ribs, listening to Jack's different laughs as he did so.

"Sounds tuned to me." Dean nodded. "That means we can play it now. "

Jack was about to make his protests known but Dean had already started, picking up and down Jack's whole side.

He threw in some light scribbles every now and then when he got up high on Jack's ribs, just to hear him squeal.

Jack promptly lost his mind, lost in his own mirth. He threw his head back against one of the couch pillows, cackles spilling out of him freely. His squirming intensified too, wiggling in every direction to get away from Dean's wiggling fingers.

He noticed that Sam and Cas had been watching for some time now, fond smiles on both of their faces. Dean noticed too and grinned at them.

"Do you guys like my guitar?" He raised an eyebrow. "Probably the nicest one I've ever played."

"Oh, I bet." Sam nodded. "I mean considering that you've never owned a guitar and nor do you know how to play, but if that one can give you the skills to play like that then that's one nice guitar."

Dean chuckled. "Wanna hear how it plays?"

"Dean, nohohOHO!!" Jack shrieked, arching his back. Dean alternated spots, going from right next to Jack's armpit to down low next to his hip. Jack's giggles jumped in both pitch and volume several times.

"I like this note." Dean teased. He scratched on Jack's highest rib, his laughter jumping up to a near screech. He squirmed violently twords the ground, almost falling out of Dean's arms before he was pulled back into Dean's lap.

"My guitar likes to wiggle apparently," Dean laughed, going back to the same spot that he was tickling before. Jack squealed again, giving up on trying to escape and just taking the tingly sensations overtaking his entire being. It was as if he could feel the tickles through his whole body, from his ears, to his neck, all the way down his torso and legs, electric tingles shooting down his knees, to his constantly moving feet which were currently kicking the couch in an effort to help give himself some relief from the sensations that were surging throughout his body.

After a few minutes when Jack had properly melted in Dean's lap from exhaustion, Dean finally stopped, releasing Jack's arm and letting him roll over onto his stomach. Dean rubbed up and down his back grinning down at the kid, though he couldn't see.

"You okay, Jack?" Sam asked after a few minutes.

"Y-yeah," Jack answered.

Dean rubbed a soothing hand through his hair, letting him fully relax.

"Hey, if you ever need any help getting Dean back, I'll gladly help you out Jack." Sam said. "He's ridiculously ticklish just like you." He smirked.

"Shut up." Dean glared at him. "You're just as bad."

"Statistically, Sam is less sensative than you are, but you and Jack seem equal in ticklishness." Cas held back a smile.

"You shut up too." Dean pointed at Cas. Sam laughed at them both.

Once again, Jack felt himself falling asleep but this time to the sounds of his family getting into a silly argument rather than the sounds of blaster fire and exciting background music.

Hope you liked

#supernatural #jack kline #dean winchester #castiel #sam winchester #tickle fic #supernatural tickle #this was very self indulgent #i regret nothing #ticklish!jack kline

[potatohater]

Big brother’s love

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean & Sam Winchester (a bit of Castiel)

Word count: 1929

MY BABIES AHHGRRR; I just NEEDED some brothers fluff and HERE WE GO, LEE!SAM FOREVER🙏 love them, here it’s like moments since childhood-season 6 (bc I’m watching it rn) (btw @cringemesstickles I know that you’re a sucker for lee!sam so you might wanna check this one out🤭)

;

Dean loved making Sam smile, even though Sam always tried to hide it, making himself look more serious, deep down Dean always knew how to crack him

**

Older Winchester woke up and sat on the bed, rubbing his eyes. Clock said 8:03 am and he had no idea how he got so early today. John left them for a week.. which turned into two as he couldn’t kill the vampire he was hunting, so two teenage boys spent most of the time in the hotel room; not bothered by trying to pick up a school if they are going to attend it only for a few days.

Sam looked up from his book to take a look at his brother when he froze for half a second, biting back a smile

“What?” Dean asked him, was it something on his face or something?

“Oh no nothing” younger boy replied, trying to focus on his book, but taking a quick glance at Dean. Now him biting back a smile was even more visible

“Is it something on my face?” Dean’s brows furrowed as he asked out loud

He took a half glance in the mirror in the middle of the room and saw how his hair in the middle was slick back, but on the sides it was sticking up in all directions, making him look ridiculous. In what pose did he even had to sleep to get this hairstyle?

He turned his eyes back to Sam, seeing how hard he tried to focus on the book in front of him. They locked eyes as Dean wiggled his eyebrows, trying to play dumb to get the kid to crack

Even though Sammy was quite serious for a kid his age, it wasn’t that hard to make him laugh. 11 year old boy mostly found Dean’s fails funny, when he tried to flirt with a girl but got rejected. This type of fails

“I see you, what’s up? Why are you acting like thi—” Dean didn’t got to finish his sentence when younger boy broke into a stream of giggles. It was really easy to make him laugh sometimes

“Ihit’s juhust youhur hahair” Sam giggled quietly, dimples appearing on his cheeks as his face broke into shy smile. Like he knew it was a bit too childish even for him

Dean took a proper look into the mirror and chuckled too. His eyes were dead and the whole hair thing looked like he experienced getting struck by a lightning

He shook his head, standing up and quickly ruffled kid’s hair too so they would match

“Hehey!” Sam shoved his hand, trying to sound annoyed, but giggles in his voice ruined the whole facade

Yes. As Dean would say, it was pretty easy and unbearably hard to make younger Winchester laugh sometimes. The kid got specific humour

**

“SAMMY”

Sam who was standing in the middle of the room doubled on the floor laughing as he saw his brother’s head sticking from the bathroom doorway. They had a little prank war going on and younger Winchester decided it would be hilarious to put some hair dye into Dean’s shampoo

Dean on the other hand wasn’t so happy. His hair was dripping wet and his neck and shoulders were also covered in dark-ish blue dye. His mouth twitched for a second when he was his brother on the floor laughing his ass off, but taking another look in the mirror reminded him that revenge is necessary

“Come here bitch!” Dean said while putting his pants on and running in Sam’s direction. Long haired teenager quickly tried to stand up, but was immediately tackled to the floor by his brother; not like he put up a fight, Sam was mostly giggling like a madman every time he looked at Dean

“Something funny?” Dean tried to look serious but small grin crept into his face as he saw his brother pinned underneath him “Oh I can give you something to laugh at”

With that said, he wiggled his fingers into Sam’s side, making his giggles transform into full on laughter

Damn it sounded good; Dean could swear his laugh immediately filled the whole room, lighting it up

“DEHehean! stOHOP IHihi aham tohoho ohOHOLD FOHOR THIHIS”

“You are only 16 kid, the only one old here is me, and apparently I’m gonna have blue hair for the next—MONTH THANKS TO YOU” Dean chuckled as he raised his voice over Sam’s so he would hear him

Sam’s laugh got higher when he darted his eyes at Dean over him who was still dripping in blue colour

“Any last words?”

“IHIHIT WAHAS SOHOHO WOHORTH IHIHIT” Sam looked at Dean one last time before losing himself in his own laughter again. Dean’s grin got wider with every second as he tickled his brother on the motel floor. Maybe he didn’t care that much about his hair

**

“Dean!” Sam squeaked as Dean made a move in his direction

“Sam!” Dean chuckled, mirroring his brother’s tone

They were standing at opposite sides of a table in the motel room, waiting for other one to make a move. Well, long story short — Dean found out Sam still had his weakness in touch, apparently Sam was surprised too

“Don’t!” Sam tried to threaten but smile on his face outweighed all the venom in his voice

Dean was wearing a grin on his own, quickly running around the table to catch his brother

They were doing it for the past few minutes, but this time Dean actually tackled Sam on the floor. Both laughing the whole time they tried to gain an upper hand

“DEHEHEHEAN!”

Older Winchester got his hands squeezing his brother’s knees as he watched his reaction

Sam was okay before.. well maybe a little tired and declined any offer to take a proper sleep, saying that “he was okay taking 2 hour naps every few days”; so as every good brother, Dean just needed an excuse to mess with him. They deserve to have fun once in a while, especially Sam

“Ha! Man you didn’t change— do you still do that? Wait let me check” Dean said as he got his hands to Sam’s ribs, playing them like a guitar

Sam’s laughter transformed into high-pitched giggles that were just music to his brother’s ears

“That’s what you get for not getting to bed. Gosh it’s like I’m 15 again, forcing you to sleep”

Sam’s laughter rang even louder at the recalling memories of their childhood, as joyful sounds came out of him

“And now you are 23 and you didn’t change a bit” Dean grinned, eliciting more sounds form Sam

**

“Ohokay okay, easy tiger” Older Winchester chuckled at his baby brother who drank a bit too much in the bar. Dean was immune for a few shots of tequila, considering how much alcohol he consumes, Sam wasn’t that strong

“What is wrong with him?” Castiel was standing in the middle of the motel room Winchesters were staying

“Has gone a little overboard, but who gives a shit. I finally convinced him to take a few days off and I don’t care that there is a fucking apocalypse, okay? He needed a moment to breathe out” Dean replied as he caught his brother from falling on the floor and threw him on the bed, making it easier for both of them

“So what now?”

“Well, I’m gonna take his coat and shoes off and let him sleep. Oh man, a hangover tomorrow is going to be ruthless” Older brother chuckled

He motioned Cas to come closer and hold Sam’s abdomen as he took the coat of him. On accident, one of Cas’ hands got under younger Winchester’s arms, making him squirm a bit and let out a quiet giggle

“What was that?” Dean and Cas almost said in unison as Dean put his brother’s clothes and shoes in the wardrobe

Dean’s brows knitted together as a small grin broke his face

“Hey Cas, can you spread his elbows like— yeah like that” Dean full on smiled

Angel did as he was told, grabbing both Sam’s elbows and raised them up, spreading them. Meanwhile Sam was too tired to stop anything.

Dean took a step closer, warming his fingers under Sam’s arms. His brother’s face immediately broke down into wide smile when he clamped his arms down, doing nothing to stop the sensation

“What are you do— waHAHEHehait!” Sam got out of Castiel’s grip and slammed his back into the bed where he was previously sitting (or at least tried to). His eyes were squeezed and smile shining, showing all his teeth

“Damn Sammy, a drop of alcohol in you, and you become even more ticklish than when you were a kid” Dean beamed

“What is wrong with him?” Cas now stood up, and standing next to the bed stared at laughing younger brother who couldn’t even put up a fight because he was so intoxicated and an older brother who now was sitting on his lower half, pinning him and tickling him, having a smile on his face as big as Sam’s. A look of confusion and amusement mixing up in angel

“Oh, it’s called tickling. It’s when you touch some parts of the body that make other person laugh. It’s a body reaction our ancestors had back in the day for surviving. Now it’s.. for messing with your baby brother for example”

“And he laughs because it’s body’s reaction” Cas repeated, trying to make sense out of it

“Pretty much”

“Huh” Cas wanted to say something but his hearing focused on Sam’s high-pitched laughter again. Making his face to share the same kind of grin Dean has been wearing

Right now and there he noticed that Sam didn’t laugh enough. His laugh is too nice to hide it under all these layers of seriousness

“heheHESTOHOHOP DEhehean!” Sam laughed, eyes squeezed shut and hands trying to catch his brother but he even when he did he was to tired to do anything that shove lightly at them

Cas and Dean joined him, chuckling everytime he made some funny noise. “Yeah” Cas thought “humans are cute”

**

“Hey, you okay?” Dean’s voice rang through the living room where his brother was sitting

They stayed at Bobby’s for some time, trying to find out more about this “Mother” bullshit, someone that can ruin their world and kill everyone (again)

“You know what I did, Dean. That whole year was—” Sam was interrupted by his brother who nudged him in the side with his elbow

“Come on, we’ve been through this. I— you can’t believe how glad I’m that you’re back. That was not you Sammy”

Sam tried to fight, but found that it’s easier just to listen to Dean. “Yeah, maybe you’re right”

“Dude you couldn’t believe how DRY you were, I mean, your humour was purely based on making fun of something. We were almost killed multiple times because you found demons funny and just laughed at their faces” Dean recalled with amused chuckle

Sam let his own small smile to tug at his lips

“Well, at least I got you back, and you still think I’m a god of comedy” Older brother wigged his brows

“Oh you wish” Sam shook his head with a snicker

“What? I’m hilarious” Dean said, poking his brother which made him giggle

“See? You do still find me funny” Each word was highlighted by a poke to Sam’s side, making him giggle again and playfully slap Dean’s hand

“Yeheah, maybe I stihil do”

#tworld #tickle fic #sfw tickle community #love them #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural tickle #spn tickles #spn tickle #spn tickle fic #ticklish!sam #ticklish!sam winchester #ler!dean #ler!dean winchester #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #cas #dean's an awesome big brother #potatohater #love them😭😭 #tkl fluff #fluff #spn fluff #the most fluffy fluff I’ve ever written #they need a break #literally had this scenario in mind like forever #it’s canon because I said so

[leegemma]

Suddenly felt like writing again :)))

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

You walked in to the bunker and slammed the door after you, running straight up to your room with out even acknowledging your two brothers and uncle who were all sitting around the main table.

Dean raised his eyebrow and looked across at his brother, who looked back at him with the same look on his face.

"Why are you looking at each other like that?" Cas asked the two calmly.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Did you not see a certain little creature speeding up the stairs just a few seconds ago?"

Cas frowned.  "A creature? Well shouldn't we go after it?"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "He's talking about y/n, you idiot."

"Oh." Cas nodded in understanding. "Very well, I'll keep working here. You go on and head up."

"You sure?" Dean asked.

Cas nodded again. "Of course."

Both the brothers got up and headed to your room, Dean knocking your door twice before opening it to find you laying face first on your bed. Your shoulders shaking as you cried.

"Oh, y/n." Sam hurried to sit next to you and started stroking your back.

Dean came over to sit on your other side resting his hand on top if your head. Feeling a bit akward. "What's going on, bug?"

"Nothing, go away!" You yelled into your pillow.

"No can do, sweetie. Talk to us." Sam said while he smiled softly.

"I don't have the powers to." You mumbled,  suddenly quite.

Dean frowned.  "That is the lamest excuse I have ever heard."

"But I don't!" You protested.

"Yeah, we got that. But we can't help you unless you tell us what happend..." Sam continued.

Now it was your time to frown, though they couldn't see it with you face burried like that. "I never asked for you to help mE- Hehey!"

You squealed as a hand squeezed you side, then looked up to see Dean smirking at you.

"Spill it, y/n. Or we'll make you spill it." He said, the smirk never once fading away.

You, still not catching on, shook your head and sniffled. Burrying it right back into your pillow. "Don't wanna."

"Well then. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Dean started digging into your side, electing surprised giggles out for you.

"Dhehehe! Nohohoho" you flipped onto your back and tried pushing his hands away.

Dean only chuckled and shook his head

"I'll stop when you tell me what happened. Sammy, care to help?"

Sam shrugged. "Why not?" Then dove right in, tickling your armpits.

"OKAHAHAY! ILL TELL YOUHOUH!" You finally broke after taking 5 minutes of their torture.

Both brothers immediately stopped. Sam pulling you to him and hugging you tight. Dean ruffling your hair.

"It's just... I just had a really bad day at school. Apparently all my friends hung out without me on Saturday so I just felt kinda bad. Sorry I was rude to you guys..." you mumbled while still in Sam's arms.

Dean huffed. "Those jerks... they don't deserve you, y/n. You'll find friends better than them."

"And meanwhile... you have us, and we're pretty cool..." Sam smiled down at you.

You laughed. "I don't know guys... two friends doesn't seem like too much..."

"How about three then?"

You and your brothers turned to look at the door, where the voice was coming from. There stood cas with a comforting smile on his face.

"How long have you been standing there for?" Sam laughed.

"A while..." cas replied looking sheepishly at the ground.

You shook your head fondly and opened your arms, mentioning for him to get closer. "Three does sound a lot better."

#tickle fics #ticklish!reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #tickling #supernatural #castiel #dean x reader #sam x reader

[ashestkstuff]

It started with a bite of his burger, and it caught Dean's eye. He can see Jack taking as just of a big bite out of his burger as Dean did. The elder Winchester just batted an eye as he took a sip of his beer, Jack taking a sip of his own water at the same time, before they both set it down at the same time. Something in him, it reminded Dean of Sammy. How when Sam was younger, he'd always copy Dean until he wrecked the younger Winchester.

To test this, Dean grabbed his beer again, leaning back in the chair. He glanced over at Jack, seeing the young nephilim doing the exact same thing. “Stop.” He said sternly, looking right over at Jack. The nephilim stared at Dean, before taking a huge sip of water just as Dean took a huge sip of beer. “Okay that's it-” Dean grinned and tackled Jack after their drinks were placed down, again, at the same time. Jack squeaked as he was pinned down, looking up at the elder Winchester with wide eyes.

“Y’know how I dealt with Sammy when he pulled this shit?” Dean asked with a shit-eating grin. A bit confused and startled, the nephilim shook his head. “No.” He replied. “What did you do?” He asked, curiosity sparkling in his eyes. “This.” Dean replied before tickling his sides. Jack immediately erupted into laughter, trying to push his hands away from his sides. “Dehean- ihit tihickles!” Jack giggled out. Dean couldn't help but smile at that, chuckling softly to himself. “If you're laughing this much over just the sides, I'd love to see how you laugh when I get your worst spots.” He teased before digging under his arms. Jack squealed and threw his head back in loud laughter. “DEHEAN NOHOT THEHERE PLEHEASE!” Jack laughed loudly with a snort. Dean started laughing himself at that. “No way! Did you just snort? Man, I gotta tell Sam and Cas when they get back!” He chuckled. “Didn’t know you and Sam had the same weak spot.” He grinned mischievously before letting up a few minutes later.

Jack grinned and caught his breath, panting softly when Dean finally let up. “That was fun.” The nephilim smiled a little, causing Dean to grin. “Just like Sammy, he used to love when I played tickle monster with him when he was little.” He informed, taking a sip of his beer as he sat back down on the motel couch. “He did?” The nephilim asked with a small smile. “He sure did. Maybe I can teach you a few pointers to tickle Sammy.” Dean chuckled as his attention turned towards Scooby Doo, which was playing on the TV. Jack smiled as he recovered from the tickle attack, his attention turning towards the TV too, as he leaned his head against Dean's shoulder. Maybe he did belong with them.

#sfw tickle blog #sfw tickles #supernatural tickle #tickle blog #ticklish!Jack #ticklish!Jack Kline #Ler!Dean #Lee!Jack

[cringemesstickles]

Cat And Mouse

Summary: This is basically just the scene from s10e03 except it’s normal and Dean is just Dean and also isn’t trying to kill Sam-

Pairing: None

Word Count: 1,010

A/N: *Posts this and runs*

Literally this is all I could think about during this scene. :’)

———————————————————

“Cmon sammy, don’t you wanna hang out with your big brother?” Dean called out, stalking the bunkers halls in search for his little brother.

Sam heard his brother’s taunts, and from the sound of it, he wasn’t too far.

This little cat and mouse game had gone on for about a minute; Dean calling out taunts and teases while Sam tried to get himself as far away as possible from his playful older brother.

The goal was to get to Dean’s room, as It’d be too obvious to hide in his own; and besides, it was only a few corners away.

“Sammy? You’re just making this worse for yourself man.”

Sam pressed himself against the wall when he heard his brother’s voice from around the corner.

He was so screwed.

He peered over the right hand corridor, Dean’s room was right there! If he was stealthy enough, he may be able to slip under Deans radar.

Just as he was about to make a break for it…

“GOTCHA!” Dean grabbed his younger brother and flung him over his shoulder, carrying him to his bedroom.

How Dean was able to carry him, Sam had no clue.

Dean wasn’t weak by any means, but Sam was 6'4 for crying out loud!

Whatever!

There’s no time to dwell on it! right now, he had to find a way to escape.

When they reached the room, Dean dumped his brother onto his bed and quickly climbed on top of him, making sure he was pinned.

“Well little brother, it seems I’ve caught you…” He said through an evil grin,

“You know what happens next, don’t you Sammy?” raising his hands, he wiggled his fingers above Sam’s stomach.

“Dean w-wait, can’t we talk about thihihis?” A nervous giggle slipped past his lips as he started pleading with his big brother.

The sight of his brother’s wiggling fingers tore down his crumbling resolve, reducing him to a giggly mess.

“Sorry Sammy, I caught you fair and square… take your punishment like a man!”

With that, he vibrated his claws into the center of Sam’s belly, making the younger scream with laughter.

“NOHOHO DEHEHEAN, WAHAIT!!”

Dean grinned cheekily.

“I’m already tickling you, there’s nothing to wait for!”

Sam gripped the soft sheets, head thrown back in mirth, laughing harder than he has in a long while.

Dean’s hands drifted to Sam’s sides, kneading the sensitive flesh while an evil grin made its way to his face.

“Ohhh, I get it… you just can’t wait for me to raspberry that cute belly of yours!”

He said, letting a finger trail back to his brother’s stomach and lightly tracing.

Just at the mention of raspberries, Sam’s eyes widened, shooting his hands down to protect his tummy from the inevitable attack.

“Nonono! Dean, please dohohohont!!”

He was squirming side to side, trying anything to throw his brother off.

“Why not? Too ticklish? Surely you can handle a couple measly raspberries.. unless you really are that ticklish?” The older brother tapped against the younger’s side thoughtfully, smile glued to his own face at the image of his little brother so happy and carefree.

Sam’s face reddened, the teasing easily getting under his skin.

“Shut uhuhuhup!!!” His hands moved from protecting his stomach to covering his face in embarrassment.

“Hey!” Dean poked his brother’s belly button, eliciting a squeak.

“Don’t tell your big brother to shut up!”

As if to punish his little brother for his actions, he dove his head down and blew raspberry after raspberry on the ticklish tummy.

“NOOO DEHEHEAN, I’M SORREEHEHEHE!!” The taller squealed, bucking his hips and shoving at his brothers head.

Sam could feel the older’s smile against his skin; he didn’t know what got Dean in such a playful mood but he had to admit, he was having a lot of fun. It felt nice to let go and laugh, and it felt nice for Dean to hear his brother laugh for real.

It’s not that Sam’s laughter was never genuine, it’s just that it was never really full on laughter, only light chuckles mostly at Dean’s expense.

This laughter on the other hand, loud, boisterous, happy, this was the laughter that Dean had missed so much.

He lifted his head to give his brother a break, lightly tracing along his sides.

“Sorry’s not gonna cut it, Sam. Telling your big brother to shut up is a horrible offense!”

Sam just giggled.

“You tehehell me to shut up ahahall the tihihime!”

Dean shrugged.

“Well, I’m the big brother. I’m allowed.” He grinned at the eye roll he received.

“You’re sohoho annoying.” Sam grumbled, his attempt at a frown looking more like a pout.

“Aww, there’s no need to pout, Sammy. Luckily, I know just how to fix it!”

He caught both of his brothers wrists and pinned them to either side of him, diving down again, this time nuzzling against Sam’s belly, rough stubble rubbing against soft skin and making it all the more ticklish.

The younger hunter snorted, throwing his head back and screaming with bright happy laughter.

“DEHEHE!! N-NOT THAHAHAT!”

Sam was practically screeching, squirming as best he could.

The older brother laughed against the shaking tummy, finding the reactions both funny and cute.

“Why not? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“IHIHIT TICKLES!!”

Dean laughed.

“Well that’s all the reason to continue!”

Tears of mirth were starting to form in Sam’s eyes and his cheeks were getting sore from smiling so much.

Dean could tell it was about time to let up, he gave his brother one last raspberry before rolling off of him.

Sam curled into ball with his arms wrapped around his stomach, leftover giggles falling from his lips.

The older hunter grinned and pat the younger on the shoulder.

“You alright there, little brother?”

Sam nodded, a smile still stuck to his face as he tried to get his giggles under control.

“I hahahate you.”

Dean chuckled at that.

“No you don’t.”

Sam’s laughter subsided a bit but his smile still remained

No I don’t…

#mess writes #ticklish!sam #ticklish!sammy #lee!sam #lee!sammy #ler!dean #spn tickling #spn tickles #spn tickle fic #spn tword content #spn tickle content #supernatural tword content #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural tickling #sam and dean #NOT WINCEST #anti wincest #tickle community #tword content #sfw tickling #tickles #tickle fic #tfb

[august-anon]

for the wip meme, the word “grin” !! x

[ask game] Thanks, I wrote 108 words! Writing is hard, brain no work lol

Dean wasn’t stupid enough to earn himself another penality, so he shoved Cas off him and he ran, a grin tugging at his sore cheeks all the while.

#ask #ticklishraspberries #ask game answers #supernatural tickling #lee!dean #ler!castiel #ticklish!dean

[tickle-bugs]

Welcome back Bugs (my beloved)! For the writers warm-up request, how do you feel about brotp Dean & Charlie and "😤 That's cheating!"/"No, it's strategy 😌"

thank u beloved!!! hope u enjoy this i miss these goofballs <3

Charlie’s new year resolution had been to listen to Kevin more often. He’s usually right about most things. His success rate is high enough, in fact, that she usually would rather chance listening to Kevin instead of ignoring him, even when his thought process seems bogus. So when Kevin tells her with grave seriousness to never ever--with a concerning amount of excess evers--play games with Dean, it does give her some semblance of pause. 

Four hours into the most grueling Monopoly game of her life, Charlie sighs and accepts that she’s totally failed both Kevin and her resolution. 

The board is old and pretty beaten up—Sam picked it up in Mississippi somewhere and brought it back with a few other vintage games. Dean and Charlie are perched like goblins around the board, surrounded by the foil corpses of snacks they’d demolished while refusing to adjourn for a real meal. 

“Ah shit.” Dean furrows his brow and hikes his knee to his chest. 

“What?” Charlie narrows her eyes. Dean holds a finger up and mutters to himself, studying the card with grave attention. He looks at the board, then back at the card, counts on his fingers, and frowns.

“Ah. Shit.” Dean sighs, taking his thumb between his teeth. Charlie pinches his arm. 

“What does it say?” She hisses. He yelps and scowls at her. 

“‘Make general repairs on all your property. For each house pay $25. For each hotel pay $100’. Buncha bullshit.” 

Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel. Freedom. 

“Yes! Holy shit!” Charlie shrieks with joy, threading her fingers through her hair. “You only have, what? Like fifty bucks? Dude, you’re toast!”

Dean makes a thoughtful noise as he eyes the board, then his sparse money pile. He’d taken great delight in rubbing his wealth of houses and hotels in Charlie’s face. It was finally time for penance, for vindication--

Dean leans over, plucks the pile of fifties from the money tray, and counts out everything he owes. 

“No! Dean, that’s cheating!” Charlie squawks, swiping at him. He leans out of her grasp and continues counting. 

“No, it’s strategy. I’m the banker and now I’m borrowing a little somethin’.” Dean tips his head back into Cas’s lap. Cas huffs and leans down, pressing his book flat to his chest so he can kiss Dean sweetly. He squeezes Dean’s shoulder fondly before returning to his reading. 

“See? I’m even paying my taxes.” Dean grins, the sparkle in his eye not entirely from being a cheating bastard. 

“Cas,” Charlie whines, gesturing wildly at Dean. Cas’s eyebrow twitches minutely but he doesn’t look up from his book. 

“I am no longer on duty as your banker, Charlie. I’m not at fault if the bank is robbed.” He licks his thumb and turns the page, barely concealing his amused smile behind the worn cover. 

Charlie eyes the small metal cat pinched between her fingers and silently asks it if murder is okay. It does not answer. 

“Dean.” Charlie inhales sharply. “You cannot steal from the bank. It’s the bank. Not your pockets.”

“I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing…forever. Look, Red, if you throw in the towel we can both call it quits.” Dean stretches out a kink in his back and leans against the couch. 

“Sam!” Charlie yells. “Can I kill your brother?”

“Go nuts!” Sam’s reply floats upon distant laughter. 

Charlie considers the board with a twitching eye. Even with Dean’s cheating, they’re pretty evenly matched. They could go for another three hours or so in circles like this. With Dean cheating, she’ll be forced to cheat just to keep up with him. They’ll wither away here on the floor of the bunker l, and centuries later scientists will uncover their skeletons and the dust of the Monopoly board—

“Cas, we need a tiebreaker. Something fair.” Charlie crosses her arms and ignores Dean’s dramatic groans. 

“The first person to bring me a fresh cup of tea wins. Prepared to my specifications.” Cas hums, turning another page. Dean lights up, of course he does. He and Cas know each other inside and out.

Ew. 

“What are your specifications?” 

“A challenge should be worthy of its undertakers, Charlie. I have full faith that your intuition will guide you.” Cas shifts on the couch and dog-ears the page, humming at something he reads.  Charlie’s eyes snap to the empty mug sitting on the end table near Cas. There’s a small purple tag hanging out of the mug—chamomile. Bingo. 

“We’ll have to wait for the water to boil—“

There’s a distant click-click-woosh that Charlie knows to be the stove, then the brief piercing whistle of the kettle. 

“You’d better hurry. The water is already cooling.” Cas eyes them both over his book, then settles back into the couch. Silence falls thick over the room. 

Dean and Charlie lock eyes. 

With a yell, Charlie flings herself to her feet and starts running. She can hear Dean stomping behind her. She swerves a corner and keeps running, silently grateful that she never got up to put on socks. 

“Oh no you don’t! C’mere!” Two strong arms encircle Charlie’s waist and hoist her off the ground. She screeches in protest but Dean’s already dropping her—gently, what a sap—and taking off ahead of her. 

“You dick!” She swipes at the back of his t-shirt and misses. Dean spins by her and stumbles into the kitchen just seconds before she can. He flings open the cabinet and starts reaching for the spice shelf, but she can’t see what exactly he’s grabbing—

With her best battle cry, Charlie launches herself at Dean and clambers onto his back. 

“Wh—hey! Get off!” Dean starts prying her ankles off of him. She grips tighter and does the first thing she can think of: poking the hell out of him. The irritation seems to work in her favor when Dean sways close enough to the cabinets for her to make a swipe at the honey, but she catches him in the ribs and he yelps. 

Oh, yeah. Duh. 

Charlie cackles triumphantly and starts tickling his ribs properly. Dean’s knees buckle a bit but he keeps them both steady, swiping at Charlie’s hands like a madman. 

“This is cheating!” Dean grits out, trying valiantly to block her access to his ribs. She can feel him shaking with laughter already and tries to chase it. Dean slams his arms to his sides and Charlie doesn’t falter--she fits her fingers into the back of his ribs. The dam of his laughter shatters and giggles flow free, then full laughter--the kind that lights him from the inside out and seeps into Charlie too. 

“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy! What does Cas like in his tea? Talk!” Charlie squeezes his sides with vengeance. Dean alternates between clutching the counter and flailing wildly. She clings to him every way he bends and finds free skin to pinch and poke at. 

“Charlie!” 

“Talk!” She yells, burrowing her fingers into Dean’s stomach. Dean fully collapses and they both go down, but Charlie wastes no time launching herself back at him. Dean catches her--unfortunate for him, because she jams her hands right back under his arms. He screeches out an incoherent string of syllables and arches hard into the kitchen floor. 

“Just tell me and this is all over,” Charlie singsongs, wrenching one of her hands free to skitter along his now-pink neck. Dean scrunches and falls smoothly into giggles, each one tumbling over the next like rain pouring free to dance with the wind. 

“Bite me!” He twists and bucks her off, clutching his sides as he sucks in breath. Dean’s head turns towards her, unnaturally slow, and an evil grin spreads across his face. Charlie scrambles back. 

“Waitwait, Dean! H-Hold on!” She holds her hands out in surrender but he’s already reeling her in by the ankle. She kicks at him and he grabs her other leg with a grunt. 

“Cheaters pay the price!” Dean wiggles threatening fingers just over her knee. She squeals and tries to fling herself to freedom, but his grip is unshakeable. He scribbles over every inch of her legs and gives the worst evil laugh she’s ever heard, but it makes her laugh, then she can’t stop laughing. Dean coos at her and squeezes vigorously at her thigh. 

“You’re the one who chea—oh nohoho!” 

…

“Sam,” Cas calls, pulling a blanket over his lap. Sam peeks around the corner, hair damp and 

stringy from the shower. 

“Would you mind grabbing my tea from the kitchen?” Cas gestures in that direction. Sam tracks the movement, then absorbs the minefield of game pieces on the floor. 

“Dean robbed the bank, didn’t he?” Sam chuckles and shakes his head. 

“Mhm. My tea is unfortunately serving his penance.” Cas flips a page and gives Sam an amused smile. 

“Gotcha.” Sam chuckles and winces at a loud shriek from the kitchen. “Want anything in it?”

“Just a drop of honey, please. Thank you.” 

“Sure.” Sam squeezes his shoulder and trods off towards the kitchen. A moment of disconcerting quiet passes before Sam’s squeal ricochets off the walls, mingling with distant yells and demands for Cas’s tea order. 

Cas just chuckles, accepts his fate, and continues reading.

#my fics #ticklish!dean winchester #ticklish!charlie #spn #dean winchester #charlie bradbury #castiel #sam winchester

[supermarvel-fics]

Tickletober Day 8: Death Spot

fandom: supernatural

word count: 1,450

pairing: dean x reader (pre-romantic)

summary: during a game of truth or dare, dean and the others learn something interesting

A/N: reminder that I will be posting two drabbles for day 8! I had gotten two character requests and couldn't choose, so I did both.

How you got grouped in with these immature idiots to play a game of truth or dare like you were at a slumber party—you’d never know.

You’d vehemently declined the offer the first time it was brought up. Charlie had asked you the second time and even tried guilt tripping you with your favorite ice cream afterwards to ‘sweet talk’ you into it, as she put it. You smiled, but still said no. You were just too busy.

Then, Sam and Cas got in on it by trying to trick you into thinking it was a group research session to try and find new cases. That obviously didn’t work and you left the room before the first Truth question could even be asked.

The group left the idea of it alone for a week or two after that, but you knew sooner or later, they’d come on their hands and knees begging you to join their stupid little game.

You just hadn’t known it would be Dean this time, striding into the kitchen where you were drinking a beer and scrolling through possible cases. He caught your eye before he spoke—he always did. It took a lot of effort to pull your attention away from something you were fixated on, but not for Dean. Never for Dean. All he had to do was enter a room or say something in that deep, bellowing voice and you were all ears.

“What is it, Dean?” You ask, trying to sound at least mildly annoyed. You sipped on your beer without making eye contact as you heard his boots clobber closer to you.

“Look, we’ve all been in a rut these past couple weeks and the group just thinks it would help if we did some dumb bonding activity together,” Dean answered in that tone of his – the one where he tried sounding put off by whatever he was talking about, but was actually very interested. It amused you how alike you two were in that sense.

“Mhm, so the truth or dare thing?” You finally swiveled to face him this time, one eyebrow raised higher than the other. Dean nodded.

“Yeah, everyone thinks it will be fun or whatever.”

You saw right past this little act of his, grinning slightly as you stared at him. “Are you really trying to act as if this wasn’t your idea in the first place? Asking Charlie, Sam, AND Cas to bribe me into playing and when I said no, you had to man up and ask me yourself?”

Dean seemed visibly embarrassed by that point. He couldn’t look you in the eyes and his hand started rubbing the back of his neck, causing you to grin wider at his demise.

“Well, when you put it like that…” Dean began saying, but you cut him off.

“I’ll play.”

His body language brightened up at your agreement, and he glanced up at you to find that you were already out of your seat to join him and the others in the living room. “Really?”

You chuckled a bit and rolled your eyes. “Yes, stupid. I’ll play since you losers have been begging me for weeks.” You pushed on his shoulder and strutted past him, smirking when he started following directly behind you. You swayed your hips a bit more than usual, praying to whatever God was out there that Dean was looking right where you wanted him to.

You and Dean met the others already seated at a table with a two bowls in the center of it filled to their respective brims with slips of paper.

“Ooh! I told you he’d be able to convince her!” Charlie boasted. “You two owe me $20.” She pointed at Sam and Castiel, who looked just as surprised as you did.

“Seriously? You bet on me?” You asked incredulously, snickering. You watched as the two of them slipped Charlie a $20 and she pocketed it quickly.

“I knew Dean would be the one to get you to join. You do almost anything he asks,” She stated bluntly. Your cheeks burned red at her comment as you snapped your head towards her.

“Charlie!” You hissed through a whisper. She shrugged and smugly grinned, scooting her chair over to make more room for you. You sat down in a hurry, hoping that Dean wouldn’t think too much of the comment.

The group began the game after Charlie explained the rules to Cas who had obviously never played and thus began learning about some truly embarrassing secrets and watching a few vulgar things.

“Alright, Y/N. Truth or Dare?” Charlie turned to you, looking expectantly. You’d chosen dare the past couple of times and had been promptly laughed at for prank calling a pizza place and doing a handstand against a wall for a minute, so you decided to take a breather this round.

“Truth,” You declared. You watched as the redhead swirled her hand through the truth bowl to mix the papers around before pulling one out and reading it.

“What is your most ticklish spot?”

Without realizing it, your eyes widened and your breathing quickened, palms suddenly sweaty. “Uh… I plead the fifth.”

“No way!” Sam spoke up. “If I had to answer a question about my worst sexual experience, then you have to answer this!”

“It is only fair,” Cas added with his grumbly voice. You whimpered slightly as you toyed with your options, knowing this could only end terribly for you.

“I’ll literally answer anything else,” You pleaded with the group, but their stern faces told you that they expected you to answer.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll be forced to figure it out myself, and I’m sure that’s the last thing you’d want, sweetheart,” Dean bellowed teasingly. If your face wasn’t fire engine red, then it definitely was now.

“Whahat?” You were taken aback, coiling into yourself as much as you could with an unwilling smile tugging at your lips. From what you could see, the majority of the table had permanent smirks plastered on their faces, and you felt the need to escape. “That’s soho not fair!”

“Then you should probably answer,” Sam said. You whined, your head falling into your hands. You felt backed into a corner and you knew you had to tell them just to get them off your back about it.

But you fell silent a little too long because Dean’s chair slid back and he rounded the table to stand behind you. “Wait! Noho, no Dean, don’t!” Your protest did nothing, because in seconds flat, his hands were on your ribs and all it took was one squeeze to shout out the answer. “NOHO! FEET! IT’S MY FEET! PLEHEASE, DON’T!”

Instead of tickling you, Dean wrapped his strong arms around you to lift you out of the chair, and once you figured out his intentions, you began fighting hard for release.

“DEAN! NO! THIS WAS NOHOT PART OF THE AGREEMENT!”

“Anyone want to lend me a hand here? We’ve got a squirmer!” Dean ignored you, calling out to the group. Of course, Charlie was the first to stand and you truly got nervous when Sam joined in too. Cas stayed seated, but mostly only because he’d rather watch this scene play out.

Dean deposited you on the ground of the bunker and Charlie was instantly on your legs, sitting on them so you couldn’t pull them away. Sam grabbed ahold of your wrists so you wouldn’t be able to hit anyone with your flailing limbs.

“Dean! I’m actually begging you! It’s so bad, I can’t take it!” You yelled at him as he slipped off your slippers, exposing your socked feet. He experimentally ran one finger up your sole and you jerked violently, almost sending Charlie flying. “AHAH! DEAN!”

“Ooh, this will be fun. Just a few seconds, I’m sure you’ll be okay,” He replied, wasting no time is flitting his fingers across your feet. You knew your feet were your most ticklish spot, but you’d forgotten just how bad it was—only made worse by not being able to move.

“SHIHIHIT! I-HI HAHAHATE YOU AHALL! N-NOHOHO!” You screeched in ticklish agony as Dean tried different methods along the bottoms of your feet. He found that scratching harshly at the balls of them made you jump and twitch, but fluttering softly right above your heel made you go limp. “CAHAN’T BREATHE! DEHEHEAN! STOHOP!”

He halted at your request, Sam and Charlie moving away from you as well. You kept giggling even after he’d stopped, but attempted to stare at him menacingly. “I’m never playing these silly games ever again.”

Though, you knew it was a lie. Like Charlie had alluded to earlier—you’d do anything he asked.

#supernatural tickle #supernatural #supernatural tickle fic #augtickletober2022 #tickle prompts #lee!reader #ticklish!reader #ler!dean #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester tickle #tickle fic #sfw tickle fic #tickletober prompts #tickletober2022

[inkaddict1978]

June. June was supposed to be nice. It was supposed to be “take Baby for a long drive, windows down, with no destination in mind for once” nice. Instead it was cold, 40’s at best, and the pattering of drops on the windows didn’t seem to be letting up any time soon. It was starting to get on Dean’s nerves. The 4 friends were lounging around in their cozy little living room, “Ramble On” playing softly from the speakers in the far corner.

Sam was in the recliner, scrolling on his laptop. Dean didn’t need to see the screen to know he was searching for their next case. Always the diligent one. Cas was on one end of the couch, nose deep in some new “book of the week” that he had become addicted to. The sight made Dean’s stomach flutter, something he was still trying to get used to. Eileen was on the loveseat, watching tv, surely some reality show that Dean would pretend not to be interested in, but secretly be sad when it ended. Dean was currently propped up in the corner of the couch, opposite Cas, with a magazine in hand, not really focusing on the print, mind distracted.

He was fidgeting, too. He knew it, but he hoped no one else had noticed. He wasn’t used to sitting still, at least not for long periods of time, and his hands itched to be doing something, other than holding the paper distraction. He kept shifting slightly, couch creaking with each move, and every so often one of the other’s eyes would roam over to him, their look questioning. It never lasted long, but Dean would duck his head back into the magazine every time, avoiding the stare. His heart was starting to race, and he willed himself to slow it down. He could do this, dammit. He could relax. He just needed to practice. He wasn’t used to the semi-retired, non-hunting lifestyle. So sue him. It would take some getting used to. He shifted again, trying to return his focus back to his reading, but apparently fate had other plans in store for him today.

“Dude what’s the matter with you?” Sam asked, voice laced slightly with irritation. You’re like a nervous ball of energy, and it’s been radiating throughout the room for the last hour. What gives, man?”

Damn it, Sam was always the intuitive one. Dean couldn’t get anything past him.

He tried to play it off with a scoff, schooling his features into a look that implied as though Sam’s comment was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. In reality, he wished Sam could read his mind, so Dean didn’t have to use his words to communicate his emotions. He’d never been very good at that. For the moment though, he wished Sam would just drop it and leave him alone.

“I know when something’s bothering you” Sam continued “so just tell us what’s going on.”

No such luck.

Truth was, Dean didn’t know what was wrong, exactly. He’d slept well, eaten, and was currently nursing a beer. All his basic needs were met and he should have been grateful for the rest. But for some reason, even in a room full of others, he felt alone. His skin was cold, despite the warmth in the room, and he was itching for some sort of physical contact. Everyone seemed so far away, despite the close proximity of the furniture. What the hell was wrong with him? He rolled his eyes at himself. He needed to snap out of it. He wasn’t sharing with the class, especially something as emotionally confusing as this. Suffer in silence. That was his MO.

Apparently no one was willing to allow him that luxury today, because Cas, who had averted his attention away from his book to observe the brother’s exchange for the last several minutes, chose that moment to join the conversation.

“Dean, you do seem more restless than usual. What’s the matter with you?” Cas paused, waiting for Dean to respond. Dean pulled a face that clearly conveyed “leave me alone” without having to verbalize it. Either that, or he was trying to think of a lie. Cas must have thought the latter, because he followed up his previous question with “and don’t lie to me. You know it won’t end well.”

Dean schooled his features, giving Cas a challenging glare. Who did he think he was? Dean was an adult, he could lie if he wanted to. Besides, choosing to ignore the current line of questioning coming from his brother and boyfriend wasn’t lying, it was just avoiding, and that Dean was a pro at.

The silence dragged on until it was uncomfortable, Cas squinting his eyes and doing his adorable little head tilt that usually signified he was studying Dean, trying to get a read on him. A few more seconds ticked on, and Dean couldn’t stand it any longer. He stood up from the couch, ready to bolt to his room where he could sulk in peace.

Again, no such luck.

Cas was on him, tackling him to the ground before he’d made it two feet. He straddled his hips, and after a brief struggle (that Dean was embarrassed to admit he’d lost too easily) Dean found his hands pinned by Cas’s on either side of his head, face bracketed in by Cas’s arms. Their noses were practically touching. Cas continued to study Dean, but the new proximity was making his head spin.

Tough guy brivatto still intact, for the moment, Dean steeled his expression into a look of annoyance, twisting himself underneath Cas’s hold, testing it. He was stuck, he knew it, but he wasn’t going down without a fight, Angelic strength be damned. Dean continued to struggle, letting out little grunts of frustration as each unsuccessful attempt let it sink in a little more just how screwed he really was. Cas had a small smirk forming on his face, and it just added to the irritation building up. Dean let out a growl, willing himself to break the hold, but eventually he conceded, body going slack, head tipped back, eyes closed, as though he was slowly starting to accept his fate. He was still breathing heavily, little huffs coming out of his nose every few seconds, but he couldn’t help the small smile starting to form on his face from the ridiculousness of it all. He tried to school his expression into something neutral, but he was failing. When he dared to peek one eye open, Cas was grinning down at him with that big gummy smile of his. Dean couldn’t help but smile back as he said “yeah, yeah, you made your point, now let me up.” But Cas apparently had other intentions, grip tightening slightly at the request.

“Dean, we just want to help. I’d like you to tell us willingly, but I’m not against coercing it out of you.” As Cas spoke, his eyes started to twinkle, and Dean gulped, his throat growing dry, nerves set on edge. If Cas’s look was any indication of what was coming, Dean was in trouble. He tried to remain calm, not giving Cas the satisfaction of knowing he was getting under his skin. He fidgeted again, cursing himself silently.

Get it together, Winchester. You can still get out of this.

Right on cue, as if reading his mind, Cas readjusted his grip so that he was holding both of Dean’s hands in just one of his, other hand coming to rest ever so gently on Dean’s side. Well shit. This wasn’t the first time Cas had used this method to get Dean to “talk” and he should have known it was coming. Dean had two options, tell the truth, or try and lie his way out of it, convincingly, of course.

He put on the brightest smile possible, the one he knew worked ninety five percent of the time, his go-to when he was trying to charm his way out of a not- so-pleasant situation he’d inevitably found himself in, and said “I’m FINE, man, I swear, just let me up.” He tried not to let his voice waiver, but when Cas didn’t budge, Dean chuckled nervously, averting his eyes for a moment. After collecting himself, he turned his face back, eyes pleading with Cas to just drop it. But Cas could be stubborn as well, and as the moments ticked on, it became increasingly clear that Cas would not be satisfied until Dean fessed up. Dean narrowed his eyes, voice low. “Don’t even think about it.” he snarled, trying to appear as if he had control of the situation, even if Cas did have the upper hand. He let out another growl, but it quickly turned into a yelp as Cas’s fingers jumped to life.

Sam, who had previously returned his attention back to his laptop after the brief exchange with his brother, heard the noise and looked up, curiosity getting the best of him. He smiled softly at the sight of his brother squirming beneath Cas. Dean was trying his hardest to keep his composure in check, but was rapidly losing that battle. Cas’s growing smile was a clear indicator that Dean was close to breaking. Cas knew it and was slowly chipping away, gaining leverage with every twitch of his fingers. Moments ticked on, Dean still squirming but refusing to concede, and eventually Cas must have decided he’d had enough. Without warning, he released his grip on Dean’s hands in favor of digging all ten fingertips into both of his sides. Dean was not expecting the sudden change, and his wall of resistance shattered. He began cackling, the noise loud enough to catch Eileen’s attention, who until this moment had remained focused on her show. She glanced at Sam, eyebrow raised and questioning, and Sam just smiled back at her, shrugging his shoulders. The pair stood up simultaneously, making their way over to the spot where Dean and Cas were still battling it out, although it was clear who was winning this little bout.

Dean could see Sam and Eileen approach out of the corner of his eye, although his vision was already starting to blur. He groaned through his laughter, trying to hide his face in the crook of his arm. This was embarrassing, especially with how quickly Cas had broken him. It had only been a minute, tops, since Cas had really started tickling in earnest, and Dean was already red-faced and giggling hysterically. He had expected to hold out longer than that, but Cas had him so wound up with anticipation, he didn’t stand a chance. He was twisting frantically, kicking his legs, trying to throw Cas off, to no avail. A few “Cas’s” and “please” and "stop it’s” slipped in whenever he could catch a breath, although only half of them decipherable. Damned if he wouldn’t still try though. Cas just shook his head, acknowledging he had heard him but wasn’t complying with his requests. The little shit was dead when Dean got out of this. Dean was so getting him back, tenfold. But he couldn’t focus on that right now.

The little voice in Dean’s head kept telling him if he just agreed to give them an answer that this could all be over. He tried convincing himself of what it was he DID want. What answer would appease them? What was the truth? Dean hadn’t been able to put his finger on it before, and he certainly was having trouble thinking clearly now. Another part of him, a louder part, kept reminding him that this WAS what he wanted. Physical contact, no matter the form. Sometimes he found himself craving it, the lack of it overwhelming him to the point of suffocation. Usually he drowned himself in other distractions to take away the sting. Until now, it had worked. He wasn’t expecting it to hit him today with an audience. He hadn’t even fully accepted that was the problem, but as the contact with Cas made the earlier cold and loneliness slowly ebb away, a realization dawned on him. Well damn if he would admit it. He had a reputation to uphold.

As Sam and Eileen reached them, Dean could see Cas and Eileen share a quick glance, and then she nodded, as though they could read each other's minds. The silent exchange made his nerves ignite. She knelt down above his head, and Cas paused his tickling to pass Dean’s arms to her, one at a time. He tried to resist, but in the end it was futile. From his seat on Dean’s lap, Cas had the advantage. Eileen sat on them gently, only enough pressure to ensure he was pinned firmly. Dean gulped. One on one with Cas was bad enough, but being double teamed… They wouldn’t, would they? Dean shivered at the thought. At least Sam was still standing. Dean didn’t know what would happen if all three of them attacked. He’d never survive. He might as well ask to cuddle, right then and there. At least he’d still have some of his dignity left.

Once the pair deemed Dean secured in his new position, Cas said “last chance to talk, Dean.” He was counting on Dean’s stubbornness, and when Dean glared at him with a “how dare you” look, Cas grinned and started tickling again, fingers back at Dean’s sides, though not as harshly as last time. Dean should have been grateful for the reprieve, only now Eileen’s hands were added to mix. Dammit, NO! Her fingers were poking and prodding in and around his armpits, occasionally jumping to his collarbones and up and around his ears. Dean exploded, cackling, voice going in and out as his pitch reached new levels. His efforts to free himself increased momentarily, twisting and turning with every poke and prod, but he was quickly running out of energy. He was shaking his head from side to side, a stream of jovial “nonono’s” bursting out of him every time he could catch his breath.

Eventually he went slack, sweat lacing his brow. Cas and Eileen noticed and slowed the tickling just enough to give him a moment to breathe, but still enough to keep him gently giggling. Eileen with her long fingernails still scritching softly under his chin. Cas with the soft pads of his fingertips digging into his ribs. And Sam with that dopey, lopsided smile, grinning down at Dean every time he dared peek his eyes open, looking at Dean like his face was the brightest thing aside from the sun.

It was more than Dean could handle. He needed it to stop. He never wanted it to stop.

“Ok, ok I give. I give up. Please, no more.” Dean relented. Cas and Eileen paused, waiting for him to continue. When his breathing slowed completely, they looked on expectantly, but instead of speaking, he tried hiding his face in the crook of his elbow again. “Heeey” he giggled, as Eileen softly tickled the side of his neck, forcing him to turn his head. He looked up at her, trying to glare, but was betrayed by his lingering smile, and she bent down to peck a kiss to his forehead. He almost started crying. What the hell was going on with him today?

He closed his eyes and laid there for a moment, trying to regain his composure, not trusting himself to make eye contact, much less to speak. He knew they wouldn’t wait forever. Still pinned beneath the pair, he tried to muster up some courage. As he looked over, Cas started wiggling his fingers again, making a show of getting closer and closer to Dean’s sides, and it was all the encouragement Dean needed to blurt out “I was just lonely and wanted attention!” He immediately tried hiding his face again, cheeks burning red. This time, no one stopped him. When a few minutes had passed and no one had spoken, he dared to glance up.

From the looks on their faces, whatever it was they were expecting Dean to say, it clearly hadn’t been that. All 3 were looking at him with slightly different expressions, from fondness to curiosity, but not one of them appeared to be judging him. He was grateful for that, at least. Maybe he could finish the day with some of his dignity intact.

“I answered your question, can I sit up now please?” Dean asked, suddenly looking very uncomfortable in his current position. Cas and Eileen, realizing that they were still pinning Dean down, released their hold, shuffling back to give him some room. He sat up, keeping his head down, hand ringing at the back of his neck, unsure of what to say. He could feel their eyes on him still and it made his cheeks burn red again. He wished they’d just leave him to wallow in peace. They owed him that much. Instead, as Cas and Eileen stood up, Sam offered Dean a hand. He accepted it, shakily rising to his feet, still a little wobbly and light headed from before. Sam saw him stagger and righted him, but instead of stopping at that, he pulled him into a crushing hug.

“Come here, ya big dummy.” Sam said, and Dean could tell by his tone that Sam was grinning. When Dean didn’t put up much resistance, he pressed on “if you wanted us to hug you, why didn’t you just ask?” Dean tensed at the teasing and started to pull away, even though the contact was keeping him grounded at the moment. Old habits were hard to break. Sam wasn’t letting him get away that easily. He tightened his grip, arms wrapped around Dean’s torso, fingers starting to wiggle into the crevices at the back of his armpits. Dean let out a gasp, followed by a “nohoho, not again!” and before he could help himself he was giggling, squirming steadily in Sam’s arms, trying to keep himself upright, although his knees were threatening to give out. Cas stepped in behind him, just in time to catch him as Dean managed to break Sam’s hold.

Dean stumbled and Cas righted him, wrapping his arms around him to keep him vertical. Sam advanced forward, hands finding purchase on Dean’s belly as he responded to Dean’s plea of “no Sammy, please don’t” with “I didn’t get to participate before, Dean, it’s only fair!” When Sam fingers found his belly button, Dean shrieked, laughter quickly turning silent. He was doubled over Cas’s arms, trying to force Sam’s evil fingers away, but Sam continued to slip his grip with ease. Eventually he gave up and tipped his head back, temple brushing against Cas’s, arms crossed in front of him as much as Cas’s hold would allow. Sam eventually slowed when it was clear that Dean couldn’t take much more.

Sam giggled at his brother as he tried to entangle himself from Cas’s octopus-like grip. When Dean was finally free, he stumbled over to the couch, practically collapsing onto it. He laid on his back, arm draped over his eyes, willing his breath to settle. He startled when he felt someone lift his head up, but relaxed again when he realized it was only Cas climbing in to sit beneath him, Dean’s head now in his lap. Cas started running his fingers through Dean’s hair, pausing every once in a while to scratch at his scalp. Dean hummed appreciatively, which only encouraged Cas to continue.

Normally he’d be embarrassed at showing his emotions so openly, but after what he’d just endured, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Cas had picked up his discarded book before settling down, now propping it up on the arm of the couch, somehow managing to juggle it with one hand while still attentive to Dean with the other. Every once in a while his hand would stray from Dean’s head to rub over his back or shoulders, and Dean would sigh contentedly. Maybe he needed to ask for what he wanted more often.

Sam and Eileen were snuggled on the loveseat, watching on with fondness. Cas looked up and met their gaze, smiling at them and then down at Dean. Dean met his gaze, smiling softly back. The rain still pattered lightly on the windows, only now all was right with the world again. Maybe rest days weren’t so bad after all. He rolled over, snuggling his face into Cas’s lap, and when Cas resumed his scritching, Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, and soon he was snoring softly.

I rarely write but this one just came together so quickly, I couldn’t stop the brain worms. Hope you enjoy.

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