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cringemesstickles · 3 months ago

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Howls Of Laughter

(TickleTober Day 8: Nuzzles)

Summary: 18yo Dean decides to grow a beard. 14yo Sam thinks he looks ridiculous.

Word Count: 1456

A/N: Another SPN fic because I want to 🤭

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The Winchester boys were growing up, but some things never really changed… except for Dean’s facial hair.

Dean, now eighteen, had made the impulsive decision to grow out his stubble. He pitched the idea to Sam randomly one day at a diner, insisting he needed a new look. Sam however was quite positive that it had little to do with self expression, and more to do with impressing girls…

A few weeks later, Sam hadn’t really paid much attention to any new features since he didn’t think Dean would actually go through with it. He thought his brother would grow it, hate it, and shave it all off without ever acknowledging it.

The younger had been in his own world, his nose predictably buried in a thick book as he lounged on the worn-out couch in the motel room.

The older Winchester was standing on the other side of the room, looking in a mirror and inspecting the new facial hair. It wasn’t as thick as their father’s by any means, but it was fairly scruffy. He had never really tried to grow a beard before… it definitely different from the light stubble he was used to, but he figured the ladies were into the rugged look nowadays.

He let his gaze wander from his face, seeing Sam in the mirror. He could see that his little brother was deep into whatever he was reading, but that never stopped him from bugging the kid before.

He turned around and sauntered over, perching himself on the arm of the couch.

“Hey, Sammy. How do you like the new addition?”

Sam looked a bit irritated about his reading time being disturbed. He didn’t really care about whatever Dean was blabbering about… he just wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet for once. Nevertheless, he sighed, looking up to acknowledge the elder.

What he wasn’t expecting was for his brother to look like a damn wolverine.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly as they landed on the new beard, and he had to do a double take.

When the hell did that happen?

“Uh… Dean?”

Dean smirked, stroking his facial hair. “Yeah? Lay it on me, little brother.”

Oh, Sam would lay it on him alright.

The shorter boy set the book in his lap and covered his mouth with his hand.

“You look like a werewolf.” He said with a snicker that was bordering on full laughter as he saw the offended expression on his brother’s face.

The older Winchester’s expression faltered but he quickly gave a smirk, trying to recover from the blow to his ego.

“A werewolf, or a handsome lumberjack?”

That was all it took for Sam to fall over on his side, clutching his stomach as he burst into loud, mocking laughter.

“A-A handsome lumberjack?! You’re such a dork!!” Barked the younger, unable to control his amused reactions.

Dean grimaced and crossed his arms. “Quit laughing, Sammy! You’re just jealous that I can grow a beard and you can’t.”

That only drew more laughter from the boy, tears starting to prick at his eyes.

“Oh, please… I’d rather be able to enjoy a full moon!”

Dean’s eye twitched as his little brother continued to cackle, a hint of annoyance growing within him. Y’know what? If the kid wanted to be a sassy little shit, so be it.

“Fine! You wanna see a werewolf?! I’ll show you a werewolf!”

With a growl, Dean lunged at his younger brother, pinning him down with little effort. Sam gasped, eyes widening as he processed the threat.

“W-Wait, no, don’t! I-I didn’t- EEK!”

The kid fell into fresh laughter when his older brother dove down and began nuzzling at his tummy with his scruffy face, the scratchy whiskers rubbing against his soft skin, which immediately quivered on contact.

“Dehehehean, nooo! I-I’m sorry! Hahaha!”

A wicked grin spread across Dean’s face as a low chuckle rumbled deep from his chest.

“It’s a little late for that, kid. You hurt this werewolf’s feelings and now you have to pay!” He gave a playful growl, shaking his head back and forth, making sure the boy felt every bristle on his face.

Of course he wasn’t ACTUALLY hurt. He was just being a goof for the sake of it. Besides… he hadn’t seen Sam laugh that hard in what felt like forever. That uncontrollable belly laughter was the type of sound that he usually had to tickle out of him, but he didn’t have to this time.

It was just a bonus.

The nuzzles continued with full force, drawing squeal after squeal from the poor boy. He shoved at his brother’s head to no avail, kicking his legs and twisting his sides. But no matter which way Sam wriggled, Dean followed, making sure the soft belly got an appropriate amount of torment.

“No escaping, kiddo! You poked the beast, now you face the consequences!”

“Noooo! I’m sorry! P-Please stohohohop!”

Sam’s pleas were becoming more desperate and Dean could tell he was legitimately running out of breath, so he decided to give him a small break, pulling away and giving a cheeky grin.

His heart melted when he saw his brother’s cute, smiling face.

“Aww, is little Sammy too ticklish? Should’ve thought about that before provoking the werewolf, kid!”

Sam’s cheeks were bright red and only seemed to darken at the teasing. He panted for air, trying to glare at his big brother, though it was quite difficult to look angry when there was a goofy smile stuck on his face.

“Y-You’re a jerk… I hope you- AHH!”

The threat was cut short as Sam squealed once more and let out a shrieky guffaw, tossing his head back and writhing with renewed vigor. Dean had swiftly bent down again, but this time, he blew a big raspberry on his brother’s belly.

After each raspberry, he went straight back for another. It wasn’t long before Sam was gasping again, cherry red and struggling to breathe. When the laughter went silent, Dean decided to stop for good, ruffling his brother’s hair and helping him sit up.

Sam clutched his stomach, panting and giggling with tear stained cheeks.

“T-That was mehehean…” he mumbled, slumping into the couch.

Dean just snorted at that and lightly shoved his brother, giving a sly smirk.

“You loved it. But you might’ve been right… maybe I should leave the bearded look to dad.”

Sam nodded. “Definitely… the werewolf look doesn’t suit you, jerk.”

The elder scoffed and jabbed the kid in the shoulder “Bitch.”

The familiar banter made Sam smile, but he quickly regained a snarky tone.

“Now, Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“For the love of all that is holy, go shave that thing off… unless you want dad to mistake you for a werewolf.”

Dean rolled his eyes, hopping off the couch and starting for the bathroom.

As the older Winchester stood up to head to the bathroom, Sam’s giggles finally started to die down, but he was still watching his brother with that impish grin.

Dean paused in front of the bathroom door, turning back with a raised brow.

“You got somethin’ to say, nerd?”

Sam bit his lip, trying to suppress the teasing comment forming on his tongue, but couldn’t resist. “You sure you’re not gonna howl at the moon before you shave that thing off?”

Dean gave an exaggerated eye roll, but his lips twitched into a smirk.

“You’re just begging for a round two.” He glared playfully as a warning, causing the younger to widen his eyes and raise his hands in surrender.

“N-No! I’m good!” Sam’s laughter bubbled up again, the thought alone making him nervous. “I don’t think I could survive another werewolf attack…”

Dean snorted, but his expression softened a bit.

“Don’t worry, Sammy. I’ll let you off the hook this time… But, next time you make fun of me, you’re screwed. I may not be a werewolf, but I am part tickle monster. Consider yourself warned.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a bit, but he was still smiling widely. He huffed and leaned on the armrest of the couch, giggling at the silly threat.

“Duly noted, jerk.”

“Bitch.”

And with that, Dean disappeared into the bathroom. And when he re-emerged, he was no longer a scruffy werewolf… just regular old Dean Winchester.

“There… ya happy now?” Asked the older brother, stroking his face which was back to its regular stubbled state.

Sam grinned at the sight. “Very. You look like a regular old dork again.”

Hearing yet another sassy insult, Dean huffed with exasperation.

“You’re never gonna quit sassing me, are you?”

Sam simply smiled cheekily, giving a quick, “Nope.”

The kid was a brat… but at least he was honest. And Dean frankly wouldn’t have him any other way.

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inneedofsupervision · 5 months ago

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This Thing about Blankets and Second Chances

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

(Read on Ao3)

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

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

Tony's amused laugh echoes through the speaker.

Sam's following words sound almost pleading.

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

He needs Stark to listen.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam's eyelid twitches.

"What?"

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

"Thanks, Marcy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wipes a hand over his face.

He's too old for this.

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

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

Be a little understanding.

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

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

Tony sniffs slightly.

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

"Stark-"

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

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

"Tony-"

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

There is a twinkle in the man's eyes.

The screen goes dark.

Sam curses.

_________________________________

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

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

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose.

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

The archer draws an eyebrow up.

"What's wrong then?"

"He won't get out of bed."

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

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

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

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

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

A hand sneaks towards the pancakes.

"Exactly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you mean?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Let's try talking to him again."

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

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

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

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

"I kinda run out of it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

There's a short pause from both sides.

"Who took care of you then?"

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

"You have mentioned them, yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will do. Love you."

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

"Yeah. See you soon, May."

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

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

"Come in."

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

"Friday, what time is it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A sound catches his attention.

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

A giggle.

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

Now it's official.

The kid's messing with them.

Bucky seems to think the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The nerves of that kid.

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

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

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

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

"What did you do then?"

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

"Yeah."

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

"I taught him a lesson."

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

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

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

"No!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He's growing crazy.

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

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

Bucky's grin rivals a Cheshire cat.

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

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

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

"Stohop it! That's nohohot fuhunny!"

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

"Nohohoh, please dohohon't!"

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

"What the hell are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let me try."

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

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

"He's worse than Steve."

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

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

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

The cocoon stops wriggling for a moment.

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

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

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

Maybe he shouldn't have provoked Sam.

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

It tickles.

Oh god, how bad it tickles.

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

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

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

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

"Am nohohohoht lyhihihing!"

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

"What doho youhu knohohohow anywahahay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you laughing at me?"

Peter's eyes are twinkling with mischief.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You told your aunt something different."

Sam almost felt evil.

Wide eyes stared at him with something akin to horror.

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

"We might have overheard some stuff."

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

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

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

Peter didn't see that one coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Only when I'm telling you?"

"Whehehehn you're bohoth are tehehelling me!"

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

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

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

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

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

"Ihihi wihill!"

"And now admit that you're ticklish."

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

They couldn't stop teasing the teen for it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sam and Bucky exchange glances.

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

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

"Okay, one more thing."

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

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

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

Peter raises an eyebrow at the question.

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

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

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

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

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

There it is again.

That dreaded shit-eating grin.

"Maybe."

Sam groans.

"Great."

Peter smiles before looking up at the man.

"Hey, Sam."

"What?"

"About the thing with the glasses-"

"Come here, you little shit!"

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

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ticklethentopple · 10 months ago

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Some well deserved payback for @fluffyhare s Avery~

#tickle art #tickles #ticklish #tickle #tickling art #tickling community #tickle community #tickling #sfw #sam #my sona #avery #friends oc #kitsu #he is kinda helping out after all xD #my art

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smileheart110 · 4 months ago

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To the Sun and Moon Show tickle community that love making Solar ticklish. Can we agree that there needs to be a tickle fic where Sun, Moon, Lunar, Earth, and Monty (and maybe Jack) find out that Solar's ticklish for the first time and each of them tickle him to find out where he's least and most ticklish since Solar didn't know where nor did he know that he's ticklish due to never being tickled before?

@anxious-lee-ler @not-bixbee @writer-rubes @theclumsyindecisiveturtle

#lee!solar #ler!sun #ler!moon #ler!lunar #ler!earth #ler!monty #maybe ler!jack #ticklish!solar #sams tickles #tsams tickles #sun and moon show tickles #gang tickles #just a random thought #the sun and moon show tickles #sams tickle rambles #sfw tickling community

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tastybluesprite · 9 days ago

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The Fall of Snow

Sooo it started snowing where I live. And coincidentally enough I happen to have started Supernatural! Soooo… yeah I kinda had to do this fic. I love this duo so much, I love them. I wanted to do a fic of the brothers just being brothers.

Warnings: None aside from tickling, so if that’s not your cup of tea just keep scrolling. ALSO this is not a ship at all, it is entirely platonic and brotherly (they’re brothers), so if you are a “shipper” then please get tf out. Thanks.

Summery: Sam wants to experience the nostalgia he had towards snow when he woke up to a winter wonderland one cold winter morning. Dean of course is annoyed and doesn’t want to be childish, but Sam will convince Dean to enjoy it with him.

The sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the battered and cheap motel room. The older Winchester, Dean, groaned as he rolled over in the creaky bed, trying to block the light with a pillow. He was not a morning person, especially not the morning after a grueling hunt. Every muscle in his body ached from the fight they’d barely survived the night before.

On the other side of the room, the younger Winchester, Sam, was already up, sitting at the small table with his laptop. Typical. Dean could hear the soft tap of keys, but something about the atmosphere felt... different.

Dean cracked one eye open, prepared to grumble something sarcastic, when he noticed Sam staring out the window, a rare, boyish smile spreading across his face.

“What’re you grinning at, Sasquatch?” Dean muttered, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Sam turned to him, eyes alight with something Dean hadn’t seen in a while. Pure, unfiltered joy. “Look outside, Dean.”

Dean groaned, reluctantly sitting up. His joints protested the movement as he shuffled to the window. Pulling back the faded curtain, he blinked against the glare of pristine white. Snow. Thick, powdery snow blanketed the world outside.

“Well that’s just great,” Dean grumbled, unable to help thinking about his 1967 Chevy Impala. “Guess I’ll be digging Baby out all day.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re such a buzzkill, man. It’s beautiful out there. Don’t you remember how much fun we used to have in the snow when we were kids?”

Dean snorted, turning away from the window. “Yeah, fun. Like when you’d pack snow into icy death balls and aim for my head. Or when I had to dig you out of a snowdrift because you thought you could jump off the roof into it.”

Sam chuckled, unbothered by Dean’s grumbling. “Come on, you know you liked it. Just admit it.”

“I don’t like snow, Sam. Never did. It’s cold, wet, and got me sick more than enough times.” Dean said firmly, grabbing his flannel shirt from the chair. “Besides, we’re too old for that crap now.”

Sam folded his arms, his grin widening. “Too old? Really? Since when did you start sounding like an old man?”

Dean shot him a look but didn’t reply. He shuffled to the coffee maker, muttering about needing caffeine to deal with his annoying little brother.

But Sam wasn’t done. “Come on, Dean. Just for a little bit. Let’s go out there.”

Dean’s head whipped around. “No. End of discussion.”

“Why not? It’s just snow. You’re acting like it’s lava or something.”

“Because I don’t want to, that’s why.” Dean took a sip of his coffee as he sat down at the table, determined to ignore Sam.

But Sam wasn’t going to let it go. “You’re no fun anymore.”

“Never was.” Dean responded simply.

Sam leaned forward, an impish glint in his eyes. “Remember that time I nailed you with a snowball so hard you fell into Dad’s car and dented it?”

Dean’s lips twitched, but he refused to give Sam the satisfaction of a smile. “Yeah, and I also remember Dad making me shovel the entire driveway as punishment while you hid in the house like a little wimp.”

“I was ten,” Sam protested, laughing. “And you were way too dramatic about it.”

“Whatever.” Dean shook his head, but he could feel his resolve starting to crack.

Sam pushed his chair back and stood. “Come on, Dean. Just for a bit. We’ll stand in the snow, soak up the nostalgia, and come back inside. I promise.”

Dean sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Whatever. But we go back inside right after. I still need my energy to dig out baby.”

“Deal.” Sam said, grinning triumphantly.

Bundled up in their jackets, hats, and boots, the brothers stepped outside. The crisp, cold air hit Dean’s face, and he shivered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Sam, on the other hand, looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Man, it’s been forever since I’ve seen snow like this,” Sam said, gazing around. “Hey, remember when I’d beat you so many times at those snowball fights we’d have?”

Dean groaned. “Oh, here we go.”

Sam chuckled. “You’d always brag about how you could beat me, but I got you good more than a few times.”

“Please. I wiped the floor with you every single time.” Dean shot back.

Sam raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, is that so?”

Dean nodded confidently. “Damn straight.”

Without warning, Sam bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and hurled it at Dean. The snowball smacked him square in the chest, leaving a wet patch on his jacket.

“Son of a- Sam!” Dean exclaimed, glaring at his brother.

Sam grinned, already forming another snowball. “You said you were the best. Prove it.”

Dean hesitated for a moment, torn between annoyance and the undeniable urge to retaliate. Finally, he bent down, grabbed some snow, and lobbed it at Sam, hitting him on the shoulder.

“Oh, it’s on now,” Sam declared, laughing as he ducked behind a tree.

The snowball fight escalated quickly. Dean darted behind the Impala, using it as cover, while Sam ran circles around the motel’s small yard. Snowballs flew back and forth, laughter echoing in the cold air.

“You’re getting slow, old man!” Sam taunted.

“Keep talking Gigantor!” Dean shouted back, hurling a snowball that narrowly missed Sam’s head.

Eventually, Dean got the upper hand. Spotting an opening, he charged at Sam, tackling him into a snowbank. Sam yelped as the cold seeped through his layers.

“Dean! It’s freezing!” Sam protested, trying to wiggle free.

Dean smirked, sitting on Sam’s legs to pin him down. “Oh, that’s too bad… my hands are cold.”

Sam’s eyes widened in panic. “Don’t you dare.”

But Dean was already shoving his icy hands under Sam’s jacket and sweater, pressing them against his warm sides.

“Dehehehean! Stohohop!” Sam squealed, writhing as Dean’s cold hands sent jolts of sensation through him. “It’s sohoho cohohold!”

Dean laughed, thoroughly enjoying his brother’s misery. “What’s the matter, Sammy? Can’t handle a little cold?”

“Plehehehease nohoho!” Sam gasped through his laughter, squirming violently as he tried pulling his brothers hands out.

“Oh, I just remembered something else I used to do to you,” Dean said, his grin turning mischievous.

Sam froze. “Nohoho! Dehehehean, don’t!”

Too late. Dean’s fingers started to wiggle against Sam’s sides, this time tickling him mercilessly. Sam burst into uncontrollable laughter, his voice breaking into high-pitched squeals.

“AHahaha noHOhOho plehehease!” Sam flailed, his arms uselessly batting at Dean’s shoulders. “Dehehean, I cahahan’t!”

“Dude, you’re way too ticklish for a grown ass man.” Dean teased, his hands moving to Sam’s ribs, then his stomach, finding every spot that made Sam jerk and shriek. “This is even better than I remember.”

“AHaha noHOhOHOt tHEhEhEhre! Stahahahap!” Sam howled through the cold air, his face red from laughter and the cold.

Dean, grinning like a madman, didn’t let up. He moved his fingers up to Sam’s armpits, and Sam practically lost it, twisting and bucking to try and escape.

“DEHEHEAN! PLEHEHAHAHSE NOHOHO MOHOHOHRE!” Sam’s laughter was broken and desperate, but Dean couldn’t stop laughing himself. He had all too many memories when Sam would completely lose it from being tickled. He was still way too ticklish for his own good, but Dean was glad that some things about Sam just never changed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Sam, Dean relented, collapsing into the snow beside his brother. Sam was left gasping, his face flushed and tears of laughter watering his eyes.

Dean smirked at him. “You are still such a baby, Sammy.”

Sam shot him a glare but couldn’t hide the reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but you love me, dontcha?” Dean grinned, nudging him playfully.

As the snow fell softly around them, the two brothers lay side by side, laughing and catching their breath, letting the cold and the moment wash over them. Maybe the cold and snow wasn’t so bad to Dean after all.

Thanks for reading! ❤️

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cloudysfluffs · 1 year ago

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tickling your human host is SO unfair

(ns//fw and/or fetish blogs please dni🙏🙏)

#my art #tickle art #um. i dont know what to say about this #this is EASILY the most self indulgent thing ive ever posted. so much so that i worked THIS HARD and still considered not posting it #might delete later :pensive:#but you guys SAID YOU WANTED SA//M AND MA//X ART!!!!!!!!! bet you didnt think itd be about this guy huh #im gonna be real with you all papier///waite is just my favorite character Of All Time. easily #why? dont ask questions. just look at him #SPOILERS for tdp obviously #but the first time me n rocket played 304 together #and we saw the reveal of. THESE GUYS.#we both paused the game and went 'HMMMMMMMMMM' out loud #because we both thought the SAME THING.#honestly summoning a tentacle god is lee behavior. whats he gonna use those for? wrecking you?#the answer is yes #imagine being ticklish and also being a lee and accidently fusing with your Favorite God #and he can READ YOUR MND. and picks up on being a ler SO fast.#THATS BEEN THIS GUY'S LIFE FOR 100 YEARS #sam and max the devils playhouse spoilers #sam and max tickle #anyway. *closes eyes for the last time*

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potatohater · 10 months ago

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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”

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auroras-blog37 · 4 months ago

Note

I loved your Gabriel fic so could you please do Lee and Ler Headcanons for Supernatural?

Thank you for the request!!!

Supernatural Lee and Ler Headcanons:

Sam:

Lee:

This man is a cackler and giggler anytime he is tickled

Growing up with Dean, he’s gotten pretty good at defending himself against being tickled, but as soon as you get one spot he’s done

Will definitely give you puppy dog eyes to convince you not to do it

He’s a fighter, he’ll squirm and try to pry your arms away as he curls in on himself

Thats where his long limbs come in handy for him

Sam’s ribs and armpits would be his most sensitive spots

Ler:

Sam can be pretty ruthless as a Ler when needed

He’s figured out the signs of when you want him to tickle you, like when you provoke him with sass, stubbornness or trying to tickle him first

Type of person to use more rougher tickles like poking and squeezing

He loves making you laugh so he always admires your laughter when he tickles you

Definitely more comfortable being the Ler but still allows you to be the Ler at times

He’s a teaser, saying things like; “You brought this upon yourself.” Or “What was that? I can’t quite hear you past your giggling.”

Dean:

Lee:

He will never admit that he’s ticklish no matter how much you prove it

His laugh can differ, it could be a hearty laugh or a squeaky laugh or if he’s holding back, only a chuckle

Will give you a certain look of warning when you try to tickle him

Like Sam, he’s a fighter and will do everything to get away

Although he secretly likes it but he will never admit that

His most ticklish spots would be his hips and waist

Ler:

Much more likely to be the Ler as he is an older brother after all, meaning he’s a very skilled tickler

Dean has the serious surface when in reality he would be getting butterflies at the sound of your laughter and can’t help but crack a smile

He would definitely tease you if you’re ‘air ticklish’

“I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Oooo what’s this?”

He can work with both soft and rough tickles, depending on the situation

Big fan of soft soothing tickles during cuddling

Castiel:

Lee:

He would be confused at the sensation at first but after a bit he will actually start to enjoy it

His laughs are usually more quiet, like little chuckles or giggles

After the first time you tickled him he would ask you to do it again because he ‘Likes The Human Experience’

Castiel twitches and squirms a little bit but tries to remain as still as he can

His most ticklish spots are his waist and neck

Ler:

Castiel likes tickling just as much as being tickled because he likes to understand human reactions like that

He’ll be soft with the tickles, smiling at you whilst stopping to make sure you’re okay

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Is it okay with you if I continue?”

Uses tickles as a way to cheer you up if you’re sad or upset

He wouldn’t tease you out of risk of embarrassing you, but also because he doesn’t know how

Crowley:

Lee:

Don’t tickle him…just don’t even try

He wouldn’t actually be ticklish but he would threaten to murder you if you tried

Would give you a death stare

“Do that again and I’ll pluck your eyes out and use them in my cocktail.”

Ler:

I feel like he wouldn’t try to tickle you often, but with the soft spot he has for you he can’t help but find it endearing

Uses it as a form of punishment

“Learn your lesson?”

Only uses rough tickles to make his point

Secretly Crowley can be affectionate with you and may give soft tickles during a cuddle

Gabriel:

Lee:

He’s a playful guy so I feel like he’d enjoy being tickled but wouldn’t admit it

Wheezes or laughs whenever he’s tickled

He’ll threaten to tickle you if you try to tickle him

He would probably provoke you with his smartass comments to tickle him

I feel like he’d probably need to be pinned down, which I think he’d like anyway

Gabriel has very ticklish ribs and knees

Ler:

Gabriel is known for loving jokes and pranks so expect to be tickled a lot

Will use mockery and baby talk to tease you

“Aw what’s this? Is that another spot?”

“Someone’s sensitive.”

He would be a smiling/smirking idiot when he hears your laughter

Likes to use both soft and rough tickles as well as tickle hugs, surprise tickle attacks and wake up tickles

Loves when you giggle at neck kisses/love bites

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auroras-space25 · 8 months ago

Note

I’m back again! Could I request a supernatural fic with Ler older brother Dean and Sam with Lee younger sister reader please? Thank you 💜💜💜

Thank you so much for requesting!!!!!❤️

Pranks And Tickles:

Sam and Dean Winchester

Reader is about 15-16 years old, set in about season 15 so Sam and Dean would be about 37 and 41 :)

If there was one thing about being a Winchester…It was that you all liked to prank or mess with each other…

Well one day, in a day where you guys aren’t dealing with God and End Of The World problems you decided to lighten the moods and pull a prank on both your brothers.

As we all know, Dean was VERY protective of his car, aka ‘Baby’, and would kill ANYONE who messes with her.

So you decided to take it upon yourself to use fake car stickers to make it look like she was smashed, giving Dean a heart attack and a half and Sam terror and confusion as he was the one who just drove the car.

For the next 20 minutes the bunker is filled with back and forth yelling with you in the kitchen as a laugh is heard from you, Sam and Dean’s heads both wiping around. “What’s so funny? What is so funny about my ‘Baby’ being broken!?” Dean says in a harsh voice. You let out a snicker and walk up where the car is, gesturing the two to follow after.

You show the stickers by peeling them off with a smug look on your face. The drops of Dean’s jaw and slight laugh from Sam were priceless. “You did this? Seriously!” Dean yells as he stops panicking from the near loss of ‘Baby’. “Poor Sammy, always getting the blame…” You say in a sing song voice.

The two brothers glare at one another, then back at you. “Say Dean…do you remember what we used to do when Y/N was younger, and she was being a smartass?” Sam asks in a teasing tone. Dean immediately picks up on what he’s talking about and smirks, crossing his arms. “Ahh yes…the one monster she could never defeat…”

The drop of your smug smile was never quicker as you knew EXACTLY what they were hinting at. “Oh shit…” You immediately bolt back down into the bunker, slowly being followed by your brothers.

After a very short minute of running, Dean swoops in and carries you Princess Style onto the couch, where he lays you down with your back against his chest. “Here’s to payback.” He says to Sam with an arm raise, which is then returned. “Here’s to payback.”

And with that, you feel two strong hands skitter across your waist and ribs and another two strong hands grip at your ankles and scribble across your feet.

You let out a loud squeal and start giggling, twitching and squirming in the grasp of your oldest brother. “SAM! DEAN!”

The two brothers smile at the sound of their little sisters giggling and continue. “You know how Dean feels about ‘Baby’…” Sam says as he wiggles his fingers under your toes. “It's just a stupid car!” You giggle out your words, hearing the gasp on Dean. “It is not! She’s beautiful!” Dean says as he starts tickling you even harder.

The combination of tickles eventually grows too much and you begin to squeal. “OKAY OKAY! ILL NEVER TOUCH YOUR PREVIOUS ‘BABY’ AGAIN!” You yell out through your more manic giggling.

The brothers look at each other and decide to show pity and stop their tickling, Sam standing up and Dean keeping you pressed against his chest. “You’re a little menace…”

#lee!reader #tickle #tickle community #tickle fic #ticklish!reader #Ler!Dean #Ler!Sam #Spn #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #sister!reader #teen!reader

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valiantphantomangel · 1 year ago

Text

The best Christmas ever.

"Reindeer Games!! the lights have to be at least six inches away from each other!" Tony shrieked as he nearly ran into Steve who was carrying in another christmas tree with Bucky.

The sixth christmas tree in the freaking living room!

"Calm down man of iron" Loki grumbled as he pulled the lights further apart with the help of Natasha.

"Do you not know how to hang ornaments"?! Iron man freaked as he turned the small ball a few degrees the other way "go you disgust me"! He yelled at Sam before chasing after him with his small note book.

"Yep he's definitely gone insane" Natasha said with a nod as she and Loki climbed down from the ceiling where the lights hang.

"I have to agree with Lady Natasha" Thor mused while he made sure the lights were secured tightly.

"Who even put him in charge?" Rogers asked as he pushed the christmas tree upright.

"you did Cap" Clint said with a laugh from the vents where he was keeping watch so you wouldn't walk in on them decorating yet.

"...Right"

just then Peter literally fell from the ceiling with a shriek leaving Loki to catch him and put him back on his feet "Y/N is in the elevator to this floor"!!

Since it was a surprise that they were decorating the tower to give you the best Christmas ever, Loki quickly cast a spell to make all the decorations go invisible and they all dived into a hiding spot.

Somehow Sam managed to dive almost on top of Bucky who let out a groan and shoved him off "Damm it Samuel"!

Everyone shushed him and stayed hidden just as the elevator doors opened, you walked out with your headphones on listening to music and walked into the kitchen to grab some left over pizza.

"we need to distract her until we are done" Nat whispered to Loki as they sat crouched behind a couch.

"I'll distract her, you guys finish decorating" He whispered back with a grin, being the God of mischief and lies gave him quite the advantage on knowing your ticklish little secret and he was more then happy to finally use it.

Loki stood up and walked up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder and successfully making you jump in fright.

"Jesus Christ Loki! You scared the living daylights out of me" You said with a hand on your heart as you took off your headphones.

"My apologies, i simply wanted to ask if I could retrieve my book from your room?" He said hiding his grin.

"Yeah of course, I'll show you where it is" you said with a nod and walked off with your plate of pizza after kicking the fridge door shut.

Loki trailed behind you as you both stepped into your room, but before you could utter 'abracadabra' he tackled into your bed and pinned you underneath him.

"Loki what the hell" you said confused which quickly turned into a surprised giggle when he traced your ribs.

"Sorry for the scare darling, it's just that I heard some interesting information about you" He said with a mischief smirk as he continued to trace your ribs and tummy.

"And what would that behihihi?" you giggle nervously.

"Sargeant Barnes told me about your little ticklish secret" Loki mused as he ghost tickled your tummy which sent chills all over since you were incredibly sensitive.

Your eyes widen before bursting out in giggles as you trashed around, he dug into your ribs and softly traced your tummy at the same time, driving you into madness.

"NOT THEREHIHIHIHIHI" you screamed in laughter as you arched your back to escape him which only gave him more access to your sides.

"Then I'll just switch places love" Loki grinned as he scratched lightly over your neck before suddenly blowing a raspberry on your tummy.

"GHAHHAHAHHAHA" you laughed loudly until your laugh turned silent and he let up, pulling you up to lay your head on his chest.

"Shall we watch some movies for the rest of the afternoon love?" He asked as he played with your hair.

You hummed in agreement as you settled against him, curling up content.

And that's how the afternoon went, every time you tried to get up to grab something from the kitchen Loki latched onto your sides and reduced you into a giggly mess to keep you in your room.

When it got dark Steve and Tony walked in, smiling when they saw you two.

"Come on kid, we have a surprise" Tony said as he pulled you to your feet and guided you out of the room with his hands over your eyes, the other two quickly following to make sure you didn't fall.

After an interesting walk downstairs (Tony almost walked you straight into a wall and got his head smacked for it) you arrived in what you believed was the living room.

Tony took his hands from your eyes and you gasped.

The entire room was full with lights of all colours and in every corner stood a christmas tree, which was decorated to perfection with presents underneath it, you looked up and saw even more fairy lights around the ceiling. It was absolutely stunning.

A smile made its way to your lips as happy tears gathered in your eyes, you felt a pair of arms around you and soon you were engulfed by the team.

"You guys did all this?" You asked as you wiped your tears away.

"Of course we did, we wanted to make this your best ever christmas" Nat smiled as she threw her arm around your shoulders.

"Why?"

"Because we wanted to make you feel at home, loved and happy, we knew how much christmas means to you" Clint said as he appeared next to you.

"Well you guys certainly made that happen" you chuckle as you still looked around in wonder.

"Merry Christmas Y/N" Bucky said with a soft smile.

"Merry Christmas, you guys are the best family I could've asked for" You smiled brightly and you were once again engulfed by the team.

It was safe to say that this was the BEST christmas ever!!

#tickle fic #marvel tickle #lee!reader #ticklish!reader #ticklish ribs #bucky barnes #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #clint barton #bruce banner #loki god of mischief #thor odinson #sam wilson #christmas fic #merry christmas #peter parker

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iamawolfstarsimp · 1 year ago

Text

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

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cringemesstickles · 3 months ago

Text

A Game Of Chase… But Why?

(TickleTober Day 2: Chase)

Summary: Sam and Dean are wrapped up in a game of chase. Castiel is confused.

Pairing: None (Maybe Destiel if you squint)

Word Count: 1293

A/N: ikik another SPN fic… I can’t help it :v

———————————————————

The bunker was quiet as there wasn’t much to do. There were no apocalypses, no universes shattering, no Lucifer… just a normal day.

And there, sitting on the couch, was the former angel of the Lord, Castiel, hands clasped in his lap as he stared at the wall with his usual pensive expression. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of boots pounding against the floors, as well as familiar voices shouting through the halls.

“Get back here, Sammy! You know what’s coming!” Dean yelled, his voice carrying a mixture of playfulness and warning.

Sam darted around a sharp corner, his longer legs giving him a slight advantage over his older brother. The angel could overhear the back and forth and the rapid footsteps, but he couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what was going on.

“Come on, man! I didn’t finish it on purpose! If you wanted it so bad, you should’ve put your name on it!” cried the younger Winchester, his laughter echoing through the labyrinthine halls.

The noise was quite distracting. Castiel considered moving thinking spots before the brothers came bounding into the living area, giving the angel a start.

Sam ran in first, darting behind the couch before Dean followed, taking a wide stance on the opposite side, his hands raised and his fingers formed like claws. Throughout this, neither of them even acknowledged their angelic friend, who could only hope to figure out what on earth was unfolding in front of him.

“Excuses, excuses!” Dean growled, a playful grin on his face as he circled the couch, attempting to subtly close the distance between him and his brother. “You know what happens when you mess with my pie!”

Just as Dean was about to lunge, Castiel’s gravelly voice caught their attention.

“Has Dean been possessed? Why do you appear to be so… urgent?”

The brothers stopped in their tracks, sharing a baffled look before turning back to Castiel.

“Cas, Dean isn’t possessed…” Sam explained, a small, amused smile on his lips. Meanwhile, that cheeky expression found its way back to the older Winchester’s face as he eyed the youngest in the room.

“Oh, I’m possessed, alright… possessed by the tickle monster!” he growled before jumping toward Sam while the younger was distracted, his fingers latching onto the man’s sides and digging in with vigor.

As Sam yelped and burst into a fit of boisterous laughter, grappling onto the back of the couch to try and keep upright, Castiel cocked his head to the side, looking more confused than before as he watched the scene unfold.

“Tickle monster? I do not recall reading about this in lore books… I suppose the name is self-explanatory… How do you defeat it?”

The laughter only got louder at that question, and Sam shook his head, trying his best to answer their friend’s question while his brother was destroying him with tickles.

“N-No, no, no, it’s not a real—haha—monster! Dean’s just being a goof!”

Odd… so this was a playful thing? Castiel had made a lot of progress over the years, but sometimes he thought he’d just never truly understand humans.

“Ah… so you’re not really in danger?”

Dean chuckled, shaking his head as he moved to target the younger’s tummy, causing him to shriek and double over in hysterics. “Nope. The only thing Sammy’s in danger of is dying of laughter… Ain’t that right, Sammy?”

“Shut uhuhuhup!” came Sam’s frantic response.

Castiel’s brow creased with puzzlement, his eyes scanning the scene as if that would help him put the pieces together.

“Why were you chasing him then? He seemed quite alarmed.”

“Because it makes it more fun!”

It seemed that every answer only led to more and more questions. Why on earth would being chased be fun? Castiel had been chased before, and he recalled it as a very unpleasant experience.

“Fun? I fail to see how running for your life could be ‘fun,’” he said bluntly, tuning out the sound of Sam’s squeals as the elder’s fingers scribbled all over his belly.

Dean rolled his eyes and decided to show Sam some mercy so that they could help their angel friend out, giving his younger brother a pat on the shoulder and helping him stand. How on earth were they supposed to explain this to an angel? It was clear that Castiel didn’t have even a shred of understanding on this matter, so they were practically starting from nowhere.

“It just kind of is… the thrill of the chase, y’know?” Dean tried his hand at explaining, admittedly doing a horrible job. As the taller man sat up and plopped onto the couch, he decided to take a crack at it.

“It’s just a playful thing, Cas… When you’re not in any danger and you’re just messing around, chases can be pretty fun.” Sam smiled, trying his best to put it in simple terms. He’d also learned that it was better to explain things in a more blunt manner, since the angel could be quite… literal.

Castiel hummed, nodding slightly. “I see… Perhaps I should try to engage more. I often forget to, as Dean once put it, be less angelic.”

Dean gave a snort of laughter, raising his hands to threateningly wiggle his fingers at the angel. “Oh, buddy, you do NOT wanna get roped into this!”

At that, the angel gave a tilt of his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and bewilderment as he processed his friend’s words. “Dean, I do not believe you could take me… I am an angel of the Lord.”

Sam’s gaze bounced back and forth between the two, interested to see where this would go. Should he intervene? Maybe… but how? And frankly, why? This was pretty damn hilarious. And so, he kept his mouth shut, choosing to observe, but not before popping in with a friendly warning.

“Cas, I really wouldn’t challenge him… He’s ruthless,” he said, his voice the kind that speaks from experience. And if anyone could speak from experience on this matter, it was definitely Sam.

But the angel did not heed Sam’s warning. “Perhaps to you, Sam. But a human cannot merely take down an angel of the Lord.”

Dean’s eyes were twinkling with mischief, subtly shuffling closer to his angelic friend, hands raised menacingly. Dean was always up for a challenge. “Don’t tempt me, angel… I’ll make you eat those words.”

Castiel crossed his arms, giving a huff of disbelief. “Words cannot be eaten, Dean,” he stated matter-of-factly. It was at this moment that Sam realized he might have an out for the long, drawn-out tickle attack he would endure had this not become a thing. So, he sat up and casually started to shuffle away.

“Well, you guys have fun… Just try not to kill each other.”

He got all of three steps away before he heard a shrill shriek, and when he turned around, he saw his older brother straddling Castiel’s hips and digging his fingers into the angel’s ribs. While Sam wanted to stick around and watch the endearing scene, he knew it would only be a matter of time before Dean remembered their unfinished business… so he had to skedaddle.

“Oh, don’t think this means you’re off the hook, Sammy! Once I’m finished with this angel, you’re toast!”

And that was Sam’s cue to run… again.

While the angel didn’t fully understand games of chase, he did understand friendship and brotherhood… and that was precisely what he got from the Winchesters. Maybe he’d come around eventually, but for now, he was more than content to play around the Winchester way… with lots of teasing, banter, and of course, the occasional tickle attack.

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inneedofsupervision · 4 days ago

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An Angels Helping Hands

Happy (late) Holidays @thebest-medicine! I'm your @squealing-santa this year. I hope you enjoy the little fanfic I wrote for you. I wish you all the best for the last remaining days of 2024 and an amazing time for 2025.

(I wasn't sure if you wanted Destiel so I left their relationship kinda ambiguous soo Destiel if you squint?)

Summary: A hunt goes wrong, leaving Castiel with a moody and injured Dean who refuses to get treatment for his injuries. Despite Dean telling him off, Castiel cannot leave his best friend in pain. Dean would have to overcome his bruised ego and accept the angelic help because this Angel of the Lord refuses to ignore the pain and injuries of his favorite human.

Word Count: 4383

“Ugh. When is Sam coming back?"

A hand fumbles uncoordinated across the coffee table inside the semi-lit hotel room. The owner of the almost pitiful crawling limb is shielding himself from the rest of the world, a blanket thrown over him.

“Shitty poltergeist and even shittier winter wonderland.”

Fingertips meet cold plastic, but instead of grabbing the remote and turning down the volume on the TV, they accidentally shove it off the table. The sound of the impact causes the figure under the blanket to jump, his face twisted into a grimace at the noise.

Dean groans, narrowing his eyes as he pushes the blanket aside. He leans over the couch, one arm wrapped around his middle to bear the pain coming from his chest and ribs. Even that little movement had been enough to render the hunter breathless.

He hates hunting in theme parks for a reason, and today’s hunt was another reminder of why.

“Christmas is over anyway,” mutters the man as he sits with his eyes closed, trying to ignore the throbbing sensation inside his skull. He doesn’t want to think about today.

The hunt had been a disaster, and its highlight, the peak of everything going wrong, had been that gigantic candy cane falling over and burying Dean under it. He had been lucky to not get instantly killed, but the embarrassment from having Castiel and Sam finish the ghost on their own sat deep.

“What an unusual time to sleep.”

Dean flinches at the monotone voice next to his ear, grimacing in pain as the movement causes an invisible knife to puncture right between his upper ribs.

“A heads up would have been great, Cas. We talked about it,” grumbles the hunter, turning his head away from the angel.

"And I'm not sleeping."

“You’re in pain.”

Dean snorts.

"What you don't say."

He can feel the angel's disapproving stare into the back of his head.

“When you have undressed me enough with your eyes, then go fulfill some angelic duties or something. I'm not in the mood for holy company tonight."

“You’re in pain.”

Dean rolls his eyes, only to regret it a moment later. The movement doesn't do his headache any good.

"Can I get a refund? I think my angel is broken," he mumbles, his head sinking back into the cushion.

Castiel tilts his head, brows furrowed as he watches the human.

"Hey, what are you doing? Hands off."

Dean cracks an eye open. He tries batting the palm away, but Castiel stops him from interfering, pressing his hand down on his forehead.

"You have severe injuries, Dean. And a concussion."

"What? A concussion is not an injury?"

Castiel ignores the bite in Dean's voice.

“I told you to stop watching those movies, Cas,” teases Dean, trying to overplay the hint of panic as the angel in front of him seems suddenly more than determined to get him out of his clothes. “You watched too much doctor play. Those movies don't actually show you how the real world works.” Castiel stops after getting one of Dean's arms out of the sleeve. Dean takes the chance to warp his hand around Castiels arm, trying to get the angel to stop whatever he is planning to do “Don’t worry, Dean. Sam already explained that to me. I am not planning to touch you like the nurses in the video.” The hand around Castiels wrist loosens as Dean's brain needs a second to process that information. “Hold on. Time out. Sam talked to you about what? What in the world did you watch?" "I believe there are more pressing matters than nurses in unsanitary short uniforms, Dean." The hand grabbing the hem of his shirt stills, the fabric awkwardly shoved up until Dean's chest, showcasing a colorful pattern of bruises. Castiel’s eyes catch Dean’s, the disappointment clear as day. “These have to get treated.” The hunter’s expression turns sour, and an angry hand pushes Castiel away, causing the shirt to fall back down and cover the excessive bruises. “I can do that on my own.” “I would be quicker if I treated them.” “Castiel, seriously. Stop.” Castiel furrows his brows as his hand is shoved away. With a questioning expression, he follows the limping hunter towards his bed, where Dean puts the first aid kit before sitting down.

Pearls of sweat glister on the man's pale forehead. The hunter had never been so adamant about declining treatment for his injuries. “Dean, you are being unreasonable.” “Look at you using your big words,” mutters the man. He opens the kit and roams through its contents while ignoring Castiel's gaze. “Why are you not letting me treat your injuries? I could help you without you being in pain.” Before he can finish his sentence, the angel gets interrupted by Dean shutting the medical kit rather loudly. “Because I don’t want you to see them, damn it!” Dean’s hand twitches as he tries to keep himself from shoving the first aid kit off the bed and storming into the bathroom. He feels trapped inside the stifling motel room, Castiels piercing eyes making his skin crawl in discomfort.

This damn angel just didn't know when to quit, always yapping about him not taking care of himself. His eyes wander upwards, an annoyed groan working its way up his throat as he catches sight of the other's unimpressed expression.

Blue eyes were openly observing him, and if Dean weren't already so used to his friend's unapologetic staring, he would have felt unsettled. Right now, though, the angel's burning gaze fuels Dean’s irritation. "Why are you angry, Dean?" “Why am I angry? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I miscalculated the course of action, used a faulty piece of equipment, and, as a result, endangered my little brother and you? I nearly got us all killed, so excuse me for not being in the mood to show off the marks on my body, literally telling how hard I failed to do my job today." During his verbal lashing out, Dean turned away from Castiel, dropping his head and glaring down at the mint green rug lying before the bed. A hand on his shoulder gave it a short squeeze, but Dean didn’t look up, not wanting to see whatever expression the angel was making. “Dean, what are you?” “What now? We’re playing twenty questions?” “Just answer the question, Dean. What are you?” “What am I? A hunter.” “No, not what you do for a living, but what are you, Dean?” “Human?” “And what am I?” continues Castiel, the hand not leaving its place on his friend's shoulder. “An angel. Although, I’m not sure what that has to do with anything.” Not paying attention to the hunter's words, Castiel keeps staring at the man sitting on the bed. “I’m an angel, and even I wouldn’t have been able to predict the poltergeist’s next move. How would you, a human, be able to do something a servant of the lord was unable to do?” Dean opens his mouth only to close it with a shake of his head, the corner of his lip twitching upwards. God, how low has he fallen for a socially inept angel to give him words of encouragement? “I know what you’re trying to do, but please improve your pep talk, Cas.” “That means your mood has improved, hasn’t it?” Dean is about to tell Castiel off, not feeling like showing off the damage the ghost has managed to achieve when he gets shoved onto the bed. “Fuck, that hurts,” groans the man, another curse for his friend forming on his lips for getting manhandled like that while being injured. “It will get better soon,” comments Castiel, not sounding as apologetic as he should, before taking a fistful of Dean's shirt. “Wow, hold on. What do you think you’re doing?” The angel looks up from the two pieces of fabric in his hands that had once been a shirt. “I’ll ask Sam to get you a new one.” “Because Sam has such a good sense of fashion,” mutters Dean, headache worsening by the thought of his little bro getting him a new shirt. “Did you have to rip it apart? I liked that shirt. I could just have taken it off.” “My apologies. I haven’t thought of that. Now turn on your stomach.” Castiel glances down at the man. Dean is leaning back on his arms and looking up at him with an eyebrow raised at the demand.

The skin on Dean's chest and left side is broken in some places and overall swollen, the impact of today’s events visible through the colorful bruises left all over his body. “You’re going to use your holy touch or something?” “I will use my grace, yes. Your shoulder and upper back are affected too, I will start there.” Knowing he wouldn’t get the angel to stop once he set his mind on something, Dean gives in to the command and turns, giving the older man access to his back. He can hear the angel stepping closer, and Dean would lie if he said he wasn't feeling a slightly bit nervous. A hand is placed at the back of his head. Dean blinks in surprise. “Cas?” he asks warily. “I don’t feel anything.” “It should be like that.” Dean rolls his eyes at the short-bound answer, relaxing slightly as the headache lessens along with the aching and throbbing all over his body.

He feels the grace on his skin, a warm and barely noticeable tingly sensation spreading where Castiels hand hovers over his back. It was almost relaxing, and the man had to fight his eyelids from slipping shut. But just a moment later, he felt wide awake again. “Dean?” “Ah, sorry. Can you be a little careful there?” Dean glances over his shoulder at the angel, who tilts his head, staring at his hand questioningly. The hunter shouldn’t feel any pain, but Dean had clearly jumped under his touch. “I’m a bit sensitive there. Just avoid that part, alright?” He can sense the question, but before Castiel can ask, Dean has turned his head away, hoping the angel would do as said and avoid using his grace so close to his ribs for now. Castiel didn’t avoid the spot. Dean flinches. Hard. Muscles bulge as the man instinctively tightens the hold on the pillow. He presses his flushed face into the cold fabric, hot mortification rolling over him. “Does it hurt?” Castiel is puzzled. Something like this has never happened before. Was the hunter still in pain? It couldn’t be. His grace has never not worked before. “It doesn’t hurt. Stop worrying,” came the muffled reply, but it didn’t help cease the angel's confusion. “But you are uncomfortable when I’m doing this, Dean.” Showing what he meant, Castiel lets his hand hover just over the back of the human’s ribs, using his healing abilities on the bruised skin. Blue eyes observe another full body twitch, brows furrowing at the change of color at the base of Dean’s neck. “You are not feverish, but you appear to be rather flushed. Is something bothering you, Dean?” He steps back when a pillow gets flung at him, a red-faced Dean glaring at him. “You are doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You have spent too much time with Sam. That little bitch told you, am I right?”

Castiel is honestly confused. Has he done something wrong?

Both hunters had never declined before. The injuries had been severe, and most of the time the Winchester brothers had been close to collapsing or were already unconscious. Did he never notice his healing bringing discomfort because the receiver of his abilities had been too out of it to show a reaction before? Castiel is puzzled. What is he supposed to do now? Sam told him to look after his brother while he was getting them something to eat. Dean is hurting and needs medical treatment. “Told me what, Dean?” “Don’t play dumb,” sputters Dean, unaware of the inner turmoil his reaction has caused for his angel friend, grabbing the blanket from the bed. He's suddenly feeling vulnerable without a shirt. While shielding his upper body, he shoots Castiels hands a vary glance. “I believe I am missing something here, Dean,” says Castiel and steps closer, an eyebrow-raising when the hunter moves at the same time he does, crawling backward on the bed while holding onto the blanket. “Stay where you are,” demands Dean, hand up high and palm facing the angel as if that would help keep the holy being from moving, climbing down the bed on the other side, and hurrying towards his bag. “You might not feel pain for the moment, but your injuries still have to be cared for,” comments Castiel as he watches the human pulling a new shirt over his head. “I cannot stop here, Dean.” Dean nearly jumps to the ceiling at the feeling of someone standing behind him. The damn angel and his nonexistent concept of personal space.

He’s about to tell the other off when his wrist is gripped not harshly but firmly enough to not be able to wind out of the hold. He is led back toward the bed and pushed onto his back. Luckily, he didn’t feel any pain this time. “If it bothers you, leave your shirt on this time.” With these words, the angel moves onto the bed, straddling the surprised hunter.

Without further warning, he shoves his hands under Dean’s shirt.

Dean tries shoving the angel off, but Castiel doesn’t budge an inch.

“What the heck, Cas. Get your hands out of there!”

Before Castiel can use his grace, his wrists are grabbed and pulled out of the shirt.

Blue eyes sparkle with confusion.

“Why are you resisting? Tell me, Dean. I want to help you.”

“Nothing is hurting, it’s just uncomfortable. Let's stop here and let it heal on its own.”

“If it’s not hurting, why can I not use my grace to help you? If we don’t treat this, you will be in great pain for several weeks.”

The man under him is visibly struggling to come up with an answer.

Castiel observes Dean, the latter glancing at his hands before a hue of red colors on his face.

“It tickles, okay? It tickles like hell, and I’m embarrassed, you angelic son of a bitch. I can’t believe you made me say that. Now let me go already!”

Dean swears his face has never felt as hot as in this moment, with Castiel straddling his lap, looking down on him with his head tilted towards the side and his blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.

He feels like a mouse in front of a cat. It's like being put on a dining plate with a neon sign above, pointing down at him, saying “Eat me!” while he has a ribbon around his neck, wrapped up like a little present.

“It tickles?”

Having Castiel say it with such innocent curiosity causes another wave of heat to rush from the top of Dean’s head down to his neck.

He swears he must look idiotic, blushing like a high school girl.

“It never had that effect on anyone before. Maybe you are just rather sensitive, Dean,” muses Castiel as he casually grabs the hunter's hands and pulls them over his head.

Dean is about to protest, eyes widening at the sudden action and growing mortified when he cannot pull down his arms.

“You dick, release me!”

“If it’s hard for you to bear the healing, we can secure you. Now that I know you are not hurting, we can go on treating your injuries.”

Dean gapes, inwardly grasping at straws and trying to come up with a counterargument. He racks his brain, searching for anything to make the angel on top of him understand that this is a terrible idea.

“Cas, please. I cannot stand being tickled. I hate it.”

“I will finish as quickly as possible, Dean.”

Dean dislikes how Castiels words and the mischievous glint in his eyes don’t match.

But before he could protest, he finds himself busy biting his lips to prevent from showing any reaction towards Castiel placing a hand on his sides, just below his ribs.If he pretends to be unbothered, he might get the angel to lose interest.

“Since when did you have to touch me directly for your grace to work?"

He barely manages to press the words out between his teeth, concentrating all his willpower on ignoring the tingling sensation.

He swears Castiel's healing has never felt this weird before.

Their eyes meet.Castiel beams.

“I don’t have to.”

Dean narrows his eyes.

“Son of a bitc- ahaha fuck! You dihihck!”

The angel’s mouth curves into a bigger smile as his friend gets surprised by him sending a part of his grace towards the back of his ribs, the body part where all of this had started.

He glances over his shoulder, an amused chuckle joining Dean’s laughter as he catches sight of the wildly kicking legs behind him.

Dean pulls madly at the invisible bonds, holding his arms in place, lips drawn unwillingly into a bright grin as the tingling feeling reappears near his armpits. It was a hard feeling to describe.

The word tingling was not even close to encompassing the sensation he was feeling, but it was the first one he could think of on the top of his head. The touch wasn’t as soft as feathers but more like the feeling of several fingertips constantly fluttering over his skin.

The movements were so unpredictable that it left him on edge, getting caught by surprise and causing his laughter to jump an octave when an especially sensitive spot was being treated.

“The skin and muscle are fairly easy to repair. It seems like your bones have sustained some damage as well.”

“Does that mean you cannot treat them?”

“I can. But I need to increase the amount of grace.”

The hunter pants slightly, regaining his breath.

“It’s not like it could get any worse, does it?”

Castiel only smiles before setting his hands on Dean’s rips, right at the top, but before he lets his grace work, he waits for Dean to meet his eyes.

“I like hearing you laugh, Dean.”

Any smart-ass answer lying on the tip of Dean’s tongue dies as the palms of the angel start glowing, pumping his grace into the human’s body.

“FUHUCK CAHAHAHAS! YOU DAHAHAHAMN ASSHOHOLE!”

The fluttering sensation that had coaxed breathless laughter out of the hunter had been exchanged by the feeling of several hands expertly drilling their fingers into between his ribs, the muscles of his lower back, his upper back, and his shoulders, everywhere where the bruises had been more severe, leaving the man cackling loudly.

Dean was withering under the influence of Castiels powers, trashing as much as he could, but with the man sitting on him and his arms pinned, there wasn’t much he could do.

He was utterly helpless, and the fact that even if he hadn't been pinned, he would still have been under the mercy of the softly smiling angel who was seemingly enjoining himself seeing Dean being reduced into a quaffing and shrieking mess made the sensation tickle even more.

“Cahahas!”

Hearing his name called out with a hint of desperation, the angel reduces the amount of grace, leaving the human twitching from time to time, a bright grin not able to rid of his face but able to catch his breath.

“Hohow lohong doho you nehed? I’m dying hehehere.”

“How could you be dying when smiling so brightly, Dean?”

“I’m better already, I swehahar. You cahahan stohop now.”

“Dean, lying is a sin.”

“NAHAHAHAHA NOHOT AGAIHAHAN! I’M NAHAHAT LYIHIN YOU FUHUCKER!”

“Insulting an angel of the lord is no laughing matter, Dean.”

Castiel gets back to sending grace into the hunter's body, patching up the last few injuries Dean has received during their hunt, but he can’t help himself leaving it by simply laying his flat hands against the other man's skin. He concentrates his powers on the tips of his fingers, as he tickles up and down the hunter's ribs and sides, grinning at the reaction his fingers cause.

His friend trashes around less than before, but his laughter still bounces loudly throughout the small motel room.

“Stahahap tickling mehehe! Nohow you’re juhust beihing a dihick, Cahahas! Ahahaha, wahahit till I geheht my hand ohohn you!”

“Did you know that giggling makes threat sound less… threatening?”

“I’m nahaht gigglihing!”

Castiel merely raises an eyebrow. Without a word, he pulls the grace away and focuses it on a spot he hasn’t paid any attention to before, as it was spared from injuries.

Dean’s eyes widen as all sensations come to a sudden stop. He can finally move his arms again, making him question if he is done receiving this treatment from hell, only for his back to arch upwards and break back down onto the bed when the nearly unbearable tickling sensation focuses solely on his stomach.

He didn’t even notice the angel having moved from on top of him, only registering his newfound freedom of movement as he curled into himself, wrapping his arms protectively around his upper body but having to accept quickly that it did nothing to fight off the sensation.

“My stohomahach didn’t huhuhrt in the fihirrst plahahace. Castiel, make it stahahap!

It didn’t matter how much he trashed, how much he rolled from side to side, or if pressing his head into the pillow, trying to smother his laughing, he couldn’t do anything to fend off the feeling. It wasn’t as bad as when Castiel mended his fractured bones, but it was certainly worse than the light sensation from the beginning.

It was like curious hands kneading and poking all over his stomach, not bothering with any treatment but just acting out of curiosity, searching for the best reactions. It looked for the most sensitive spots only to get back to them with more vigor, with another technique to tickle him silly.

Dean wasn't sure if the angel's grace acted on its own or if it was Castiel noticing his reactions and deliberately sending more grace to those places that tickled more than the others.

The thought alone of the angel knowing and tickling him on purpose made Dean laugh even harder, suddenly feeling more sensitive.

The worst thing about the whole situation was not even the tickling itself. What was driving Dean madder than anything was the presence of the angel. The latter settled down on the edge of the opposite bed, one leg thrown over the other, his eyes never leaving the trashing human.

Embarrassment washes over the younger man as he shoves his face into the pillow.

Castiel was observing him.

While he is dying here, laughing like a little kid, Castiel is just sitting there, unfazed by Dean falling apart from being reduced into an incoherent, babbling, chortling mess.

And he seems to be enjoying it.

“Sadistic son of a bitch,” was all Dean could think before rolling onto his back, feet kicking frantically into nothingness or hitting the mattress, desperately hugging his middle but unable to do anything as the attack moved from his stomach towards his sides and wandering dangerously close towards his hip bones.

Noticing the sound of the human’s laughter growing breathless, Castiel draws back most of his grace, leaving some last traces roaming the hunter's stomach.

“Cahahastiel. Please, stahahap. Thihis is tohoh muhuch. I can't br- breheathe.”

Castiel cocks his head.

Dean is lying on his back, looking somewhat out of it. Still, there is a huge grin plastered on his face.

The past days Dean had been visibly on the edge. He had worried about the hunt and tried playing it cool, but one glance at the younger Winchester told Castiel that Dean was the only one who believed his mask would hide his real emotions.

A hunt not going how planned out isn't out of the norm, but today's events had the already struggling man spiraling.

Maybe it had been one reason why Dean didn't want to accept getting help, having caught onto the idea that he didn't deserve to be treated as some form of misdirected feelings of guilt overcoming him.

Watching his best friend now, Castiel was confident in having done the right thing even though his way of treating Dean and cheering up the older Winchester had been somewhat unconventional.

A movement catches Castiels attention.

The angel's eyes wander towards the hunter's middle.

Dean’s arms twitched, and Castiel watched with an amused grin how the man subconsciously pressed his hands onto the places where the grace tickled him as if he could shake the feeling of that way. The man had his eyes closed, face reddened from all the movement and laughing, and his shirt had ridden up, showing the angel through a slight glimmering of light where his grace was working on the man’s body.

“Your injuries are completely healed, Dean.”

“Great. Then pull your grace back, you feathered son of a – ACK I’m sohohory! I’m so sohhohorry! Pleahahase, Cahahas. Noho mohohore!”

“I’m sorry, what was that Dean? I didn’t understand you between all that giggling.”

“I said I'm sorry! Thahahanks for heahahaling me.”

Castiel opens his mouth only to get interrupted by the sound of the key's turning.

"They had White Cake and even reduced the price 'cause Christmas is over, but it should still taste good and- did something happen?"

Sam places the bags on the small coffee table, turning towards his brother and his angelic friend, eyebrow raised in question.

"Nothing. Just talking," answers Dean, a nervous chuckle leaving him as he looks everywhere but the angel's direction.

The younger Winchester doesn't look convinced and sends Castiel a questioning look, but the latter shrugs his shoulder. Sam shakes his head at their weird behavior before his face lights up and takes in the healthy color on his brother's face.

"I see, you treated his injuries. Thanks, Cas."

He pats the angel on the shoulder, giving it a grateful squeeze before unpacking.

Castiel shoots Dean a glance, the corner of his mouth pulled up.

"I will always treat him. Just say a word."

#squealing santa 2k24 #squealing santa #spn #supernatural tickle fic #supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #destiel #ticklish dean winchester #tickling

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inkaddict1978 · 10 months ago

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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.

#castiel #dean winchester #ticklish dean #ler!cas #supernatural tickle fic #sam winchester #spn tickle fic #ler!castiel #supernatural tickling #spn tickles #eileen

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