i get bored

₊˚⊹ oh hi / an inconsistent writer in her 20's / mostly supernatural tickle fics ₊˚⊹ might forget about this blog later

[smnthawrites]

♡₊˚ a little disclamer for the blog : SFW and NSFW content, minors DNI, you will be blocked.・₊✧

i post stuff from my notes, mostly tickle fics, M/F only, so if you happen to not like it / aren't interested, please scroll. requests are open. ( * in the masterpost stands for smut. )

thank you for your attention.

Supernatural

Sam x Reader

Say it Taste so good* Wasted*

Dean x Reader

Think you’re safe?

Sam x Reader

Done with you*

Just peachy* I'm just kissing you Say the word Take a break (lee!Sam)

Dean x Reader

Keep quiet*  Riding Shotgun*

[smnthawrites]

“Keep quiet”

a Dean Winchester x Reader OneShot — nsfw !

a/n : pure smut, messy makeout sesh with Dean while Sam is taking a shower / word count : 317

The second the bathroom door clicks shut and the shower starts running, Dean is on you. Mouth on yours—hot, urgent, all teeth and tongue. No time. His hands are everywhere, dragging your shirt up, tugging your shorts down halfway before your brain catches up. Your back hits the wall, and he groans when his fingers find how ready you are.

“Five minutes,” you whisper.

”More than enough. Gotta be quiet, sweetheart — you think you can do that for me?”

You nod, but you both know it’s a lie. His fingers slide between your thighs, slick and purposeful. You stifle a moan against his shoulder, biting down hard. Dean curses under his breath, lips dragging down your neck, hand working you like he owns you.

“Dean—” Your voice hitches. Your hips chase his touch. “Hurry—please—”

He doesn’t hesitate. Spins you around, bends you over the motel dresser. Your palms slap the surface, head swimming. Then he’s inside you—fast, deep, relentless. No warning. Just him, filling you all at once. You bite your lip hard enough to sting.

“Fuck,” Dean grunts, breath ragged. “So fuckin’ tight—you’re so fuckin’ tight for me, baby—”

The dresser thuds against the wall in time with his thrusts. Dean reaches around, fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure to ruin you. Your legs tremble.

“Gonna take me like a good girl I know you are,” he growls, voice rough and right at your ear as he slams into you again, harder this time—deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

You nod, helpless, trembling. Dean groans into your shoulder, thrusts once more and stills, burying himself deep with a sharp, broken grunt. It’s enough to finally throw you over the edge. You come hard, fists clenched, jaw locked. Lips swollen. He stays there, panting. When you look back, breath ragged, your hair a mess, Dean smirks.

“Told you we had time.”

[smnthawrites]

how did this already get 400 likes help-

[smnthawrites]

"Done with you"

a Sam Winchster x Reader OneShot — smut !

a/n : could be considered a sequel to Just peachy — figured i'd patch up the blanks. shower sex, slightly clueless Dean, little to no plot / word count : 1,434

“How the hell did you manage to get us lost in the middle of nowhere?” you snap, leaning on one hand as you watch Dean stubbornly tap away at the GPS on his phone.

“I don’t know how to work this damn thing, alright?” he huffs, rolling his eyes. Beside him, Sam lets out a quiet, suffering groan. You shield your face from the harsh sunlight and slowly slide down the seat, seconds away from threatening violence in exchange for a cold shower. “We’re only a couple miles off course—max.”

“Dean, darlin’,” you say in the kind of sugary tone that means trouble, your smile anything but relaxed, “Please tell me there’s a motel nearby. One with functioning AC. Because if I melt back here, you’ll be scraping my liquefied insides off the seats of your precious Baby.”

Dean sighs in defeat. And it’s not just your dramatics—his own skull feels ready to boil. The second a faded sign flickers into view—Wi-Fi • Cable TV • Newly Renovated—he veers off the highway. You barely register the walk from the Impala to your room, already imagining stripping out of your sweat-soaked clothes and stepping under a freezing shower. You reach for the bathroom door.

Only for Sam’s hand to land on yours.

“Not a chance,” you hiss, turning halfway toward him with a glare. “Weren’t you taught that ladies go first?”

“Do you see me wearing shorts or a crop top?” he shoots back, eyes fixed on yours, unblinking. You follow the slow bead of sweat tracing its way down his temple. “Exactly.”

“Not my fault you dressed like a damn idiot when it’s pushing a hundred out here.”

Another second of this and you’re going to faint on the spot. But Sam doesn’t budge, so you push the bathroom door open and stride inside, peeling off your tank top without hesitation. You catch his reflection in the mirror—still standing there, stunned, and you’d bet good money his brain just blue-screened. You snort, let the top drop to the tile—thank god you’re still wearing a bra—and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your shorts when Dean’s voice drifts in from the bedroom:

“You’ve got ten minutes, both of you. After that, I’m kicking the door down and giving you a full view of my naked ass.”

You both grimace. You hear the soft click of the lock sliding into place as the bathroom door closes, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel like a joke anymore. Because Sam’s hands—those fucking hands, wide and sure—are working at his belt.

“Are you serious?” you murmur, eyes flicking down.

“Dead serious,” he breathes. “I told you—I’m not waiting.”

You swallow, close your eyes, and finally strip off the rest of your clothes, stepping behind the shower curtain—fully aware it won’t keep him out for long. At this point, you couldn’t care less if he caught a glimpse; even though you could, technically, have left your underwear on. Cold water, sharp with a metallic tang, pours over your skin, and the heat of the day starts to peel away. You groan—low, unfiltered—fingers sliding through your soaked hair, across your face, over your shoulders. Even when you hear Sam step inside the cramped stall behind you, you don’t look around. You don’t move. Instead, you lean toward the tiled wall, letting him into the stream. His breath is there, just over your right shoulder, steady and close.

Part of you wants to slap him on instinct. But then again—isn’t it a thing when siblings bathe together? What’s the big deal? Sure, you’re not five, you’re not actually family, and yes, you've gotten yourself off more than once imagining his fingers instead of yours—but fuck.

“You want more space?” you ask, your voice scraping slightly as you clear your throat.

A quiet chuckle. No reply.

Still rebooting back there, Winchester? You tilt your head slightly, just a peek. Of course he’s facing away from you—what else did you expect? Water trails down his back, over golden skin and solid muscle, slipping between his shoulder blades and lower, far lower than you should be looking. You’re not. You swear you’re not. Though... goddamn that ass is incredible. And if you moved just a bit to the right and let your fingers slide along his thigh, his hip—

Nope. Absolutely not.

You give your head a sharp shake and step out of the stall to grab a towel—only to be stopped cold when his hand wraps around your wrist.

“W-what—” you whirl around to face him. In an instant, your eyes dart from his damp hair, down to his rising chest, to his arm pressed against the wall—and finally land on the thick, pulsing hardness beneath. No way. This has to be a joke. Especially under freezing water—how is this even possible? You blink, then look back up at his face, catching a sly, anything-but-innocent grin playing on his lips. “—the hell do you think you're doing?”

“You’re not forgetting anything, are you?” Sam asks, as casually as if him being completely naked were no big deal.

And you? You’re standing there just as bare, shivering from the clash of cold shower and heated air, beads of water dripping down your skin. Hell, you’re practically dripping yourself after what you just witnessed

“Want me to scrub your back?” you snap, struggling to free your wrist.

“Don’t you think there’s something else that deserves your attention more than my back?” he teases with that same smug smirk, pulling you closer so you’re both drenched under the shower. Within seconds, your back’s pressed against the cool tile. “I’m so fucking done with you.” he growls, looming over you, hands gripping your hips to keep you rooted in place.

“Guess the fuck what, Samuel, me too,” you murmur, tilting your head back to look up at him, swallowing hard. “You really have no idea how deep this goes.”

“As deep as I’m planning to put my cock inside you?”

Sam’s words catch you off guard, giving him just enough time to spin you around to face the wall, fingers now grazing the flaming heat between your thighs and his erection pressing boldly against your ass. Your mind goes completely blank, and all reasoning flies out the window as you arch your back shamelessly. His palm presses firmly against the nape of your neck.

“Fuck you.”

“I wasn’t asking what you wanted to do to me.”

“Shut the fuck up and take me, Sam, for god's sake!”

“That's more like it,” he murmurs with a low, satisfied hum, and you swear you can feel that grin. His fingers slip lower, teasing you with practiced ease, while his other hand finds your chest—fingertips brushing against your nipple, then lightly pinching. You bite the back of your hand to stifle a gasp. “Still feeling mouthy?” he asks, voice thick with amusement.

Without warning, his hips snap forward, deep and unforgiving, and the moan that rips from your throat is barely muffled. You try to adjust, lifting on your toes to change the angle, to chase the edge that’s so close, but the space is tight and Sam’s hold is firmer still. You whimper—needy—feeling your clit throb, and reach down, only to feel his hand cover yours.

“Thought I wouldn't notice, huh?”

Your gasp turns breathless as he teases the sensitive bundle of nerves, circles where you need it most, slow and deliberate, keeping pace with each deep thrust.

“Please...” Your voice trembles, the last of your composure slipping.

“Oh? We say ‘please’ now?” he mocks softly, the kind of smug bastard you’d normally have a sharp reply for—but not right now. Now, you’re too far gone to care. You’re shaking, breathless, begging. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Use your words.”

You don’t hesitate.

“I want— Fuck, Sam, I want it faster. I want to come around your cock. I want you to fuck me like I’m your dirty slut, please—”

“That sounds more like you,” he growls near your ear, pressing deeper until the world blurs at the edges. “Such a filthy mouth… Where were we again? Oh, right, you wanted to come.”

Whatever sarcastic thought lingers in your head disappears the moment his hand presses low against your abdomen, hitting a spot that makes your legs quake. Your core tightens around him, quivering, pulling him into your release, dragging him under with you. You barely hear Dean knocking at the door.

“Hey! Are you two making out or killing each other?”

You gasp, forehead pressed to the tile and Sam simply smirks against your neck: “Little bit of both.”

[dollyivy]

he’s suchhh a princess (i wanna fuck him)

[castiel-is-acute-angle]

It's 1 A.M and I am tired and I am not kidding when I say I was in actual tears over seeing this on the first post on my dashboard a few minutes ago.

[smnthawrites]

yes I did just spend 10 minutes making this. no I do not regret it.

[smnthawrites]

“Just peachy”

a Sam Winchester x Reader OneShot — nsfw !

a/n : not really smut but not PG either, allusions to oral, pre-relationship, sequel / word count : 355

The midday sun pours into the Impala, saturating the car with thick, stifling heat that makes Sam’s head swim. Though maybe it’s not just the heat.

You're stretched out in the back seat, one leg dangling lazily out the open window, the other bent comfortably, shorts riding up indecently high. Your eyes are closed, face relaxed, and in your hand is a peach—tender, almost overripe—so juicy that every bite lands with a soft, wet sound. The nectar trails down your wrist, then slowly drips onto your bare thigh, leaving a glistening path on the sun-kissed skin. Feels like insanity. Or something straight out of a porn movie.

Sam forces himself to take a steady breath, eyes glued to that sticky, golden line on your leg and licks his lips.

“Want some?” you ask, voice smooth as you pull the peach away from your mouth. Your tongue flicks out to catch the juice on your lips.

Sam can barely breathe, let alone speak—just shakes his head slowly, dazed. Prays that Dean, still inside the gas station grabbing drinks, stays gone a little longer. Because in his mind, Sam’s already in the backseat—kneeling between your thighs, chasing every drop with his mouth while your fingers tighten in his hair. He pictures your quiet moans spilling into the thick air, the way your hips would buck beneath him. Imagines crashing his mouth to yours—hot, pliant, welcoming. He blinks once, hard, like it might shake the image loose—but it clings, sticky and vivid. His palms grow sweaty, and he rubs them against his lap, feeling like a kid who’s just been caught sneaking a peek at his dad’s secret stash of adult films. Except this is far worse.

It’s fucking torture, that’s what it is. Slow and deliberate.

The driver’s side door slams. Dean drops into his seat, handing off a cold six-pack while Sam scrambles to pull his expression back under control. Behind them, you linger over the peach pit, a faint smile playing on your lips—almost too innocent.

“Y’all good in here?” Dean asks, glancing between the two of you.

You give a quick nod, your knee bouncing with lazy rhythm, and Sam clears his throat, the corners of his lips twitching ever so slightly before he manages to answer.

“Yup. Just peachy.”

[girlee-blog37]

heyyy hope u don't mind me sending this request :)

( don't know if u're still active / accept fic requests ) but i was wondering if u could do a ler!Sam Winchester x lee!reader oneshot where they have just started dating and y/n is trying to hide the fact that she is ticklish but Sam inevitably figures it out ( whether it is by accident or he simply tries to tickle her playfully at some point ).

and that's where y/n realises she's doomed cause once he finds out, he's not letting that new information slide.

thanks in advance and btw i love ur blog <3

Thank you so much for the request!!!

Ticklish Little Secret:

Here’s a soft, gentle and sweet little scenario…

You were resting quietly against Sam on the couch, the glow of the bunker’s lamp painting everything in a soft light. His arms were wrapped around you in a warm embrace, steady and comforting.

He whispered, “You seem a little tense. Mind if I try something?”

You gave a shy nod, heart fluttering.

Sam’s fingers pressed gently — not sweeping or brushing, just a slow, deliberate, light touch right along your ribs.

You bit your lip and couldn’t help but let out a soft, startled giggle.

Sam’s eyes sparkled with surprise and delight. “Oh, wow. You’re definitely ticklish.”

You buried your face against his chest, cheeks hot. “I— I didn’t mean to laugh…”

He chuckled softly. “It’s okay. It’s kind of adorable.”

Without rushing, he continued, carefully tracing tiny circles with just his fingertips, making sure to keep it feather-light and non-teasing. You squirmed a little, your giggles shy and breathy, muffled against him.

“See? Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your temple.

You tilted your head slightly, a quiet squeak escaping as his fingers wandered a little further up, toward the curve just below your arm. Your shoulders tensed, and you tried to curl in on yourself with a sheepish whimper.

“Right there, huh?” Sam said gently, his voice soft and amused. “Okay, I’ll stay here.”

He kept the touches slow and sweet, fingertips dancing with care as you giggled softly into the fabric of his shirt.

“Sammm,” you whined, your voice still wrapped in laughter, “th-that’s not fair…”

“I’m not trying to be mean,” he whispered, nuzzling your hair. “You’re just so cute when you laugh like that.”

You let out another sweet giggle as he circled back to your tummy, hands resting there with warm affection. Then, after a pause, his fingers twitched gently — just enough to make you wiggle and squeak again.

Sam smiled into your hair. “I could get used to this.”

You peeked up at him with flushed cheeks and wide, fluttery eyes. “You’re being so gentle…”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he said softly. “But I want to keep hearing that sound. That little giggle of yours.”

Your lips tugged into a bashful smile, your head tucked under his chin. “It’s… kinda nice.”

That was all the permission Sam needed. He resumed his soft tickles with patience and warmth, thumbs brushing your sides, occasionally grazing just under your ribs — never too much, never fast. Just enough to make you melt and giggle quietly as he held you close.

And every time your breath hitched in a sweet little laugh, he held you tighter and smiled wider.

“See?” he whispered. “Told you I could cheer you up.”

[smnthawrites]

Check out this fluffiest fic by @auroras-blog37 based on my request ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[skellzulla]

Priest sam winchester appreciation post

BARK BARK BARK (the things I'd let him do to me is NOT holy)

[smnthawrites]

can someone pls tell me why priest outfits are so HOT

like damn, forgive me father for i have sinned—or should i say daddy?

[smnthawrites]

it's 2 am and i'm casually thinking about Sam eating Y/N out—hands gripping her thighs to make sure she stays where she is and everything—while saying things like :

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart—” “I could do this all day.” “Gosh, I swear this is the best view I could ever get of you.”

[smnthawrites]

"Riding Shotgun"

a Dean Winchester x Reader OneShot — nsfw !

a/n : things get heated in the Impala, more dirty talk from Dean / word count : 503

The sun is high, the pavement hot, and the Impala purrs steady beneath you as you speed down some backroad in the middle of nowhere. The windows are down just enough to let in the wind, and Dean’s hand rests lazily on the wheel—until you shift in your seat for the third time in five minutes. Your dress, already dangerously short, slides just a little higher over your thighs. He notices. Of course he does, you know he would. His jaw flexes. One hand tightens on the wheel, the other twitches near the gearshift and the way his eyes keep flicking from the road to your legs says plenty.

“Tell me something,” he mutters finally, voice low. “Did you actually forget, or are you trying to get us both killed?”

You tilt your head, feigning innocence. “Forget what?”

Dean cuts you a glare that could melt metal.

“Underwear,” he snaps. “You’re not wearin’ any.”

A beat passes, then you shrug. “Oops?”

His hand leaves the wheel. Warm fingers settle on your thigh—high up—squeezing, inching under the hem of your dress like they belong there. You gasp, biting your lip. The Impala swerves slightly before he corrects the wheel with a curse.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he growls.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Dean’s hand slips a little higher, palm pressed firm against your bare skin while his thumb traces circles, slow and maddening.

“I could pull over right now,” he mutters. “Five seconds. Shoulder’s right there.”

You lean in close, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“You won’t,” you whisper.

“Oh?” He glances at you, voice dark. “You think I won’t bend you over the hood, right here on this dirt road?”

Your breath catches. His hand moves again, teasing just enough to make your thighs tense—you try to squeeze them together but Dean gives a low, disapproving tsk.

"No you don't. Not after you just made me rock hard."

The pads of his fingers trace right above your core—lazy, precise, deliberate—and you’re dizzy from the restraint it takes not to make a sound. Or to rub yourself against his hand to finally get some much-needed friction. Guess thinking this through wasn’t your strong suit—but quitting? Not an option. Especially not with him stroking you so damn close to where you need it most. Dean's voice drops lower, rougher.

“Bet you’re soaked.”

You press your head back against the seat with a short hiss, thighs trembling now, pulse pounding everywhere. Like that’s a surprise.

“Fuck you,” you breathe, barely audible.

“Oh, you are," he chuckles darkly, pulling his hand back—leaving you aching, untouched, and the sound you swallow is dangerously close to a whimper. "Don't get your hopes up, darlin'. You're not coming unless it's around my cock."

You exhale sharply, half tempted to strangle him,—still not ready to admit that your plan has backfired. And oh, you also can’t help but feel yourself dripping shamelessly, mentally figuring out how much longer until the next motel.

[smnthawrites]

are you open to doing one where reader tickles either sam or dean?

hey! ofc, thank you for this request :) hope you like it <3

"Take a break"

a lee!Sam Winchester x ler!Reader OneShot — sfw !

a/n : kept it PG and platonic, and went with Sam out of the two of them cause why not? / word count : 280

It starts because he won’t stop sighing. You’re both stuck in another cheap motel room, Sam hunched over his laptop with that same focused scowl like he’s trying to glare information into existence. The keys clack. The screen glows. He hasn’t looked up in over an hour.

You flop dramatically across the bed beside him, groaning. “Are you even alive?”

“Busy,” he mutters.

“You’ve been typing for so long, I forgot what your voice sounds like. Take a break.”

Another sigh. That’s it. You poke him once—nothing. Twice—he twitches. Third time, his shoulders jolt and he shoots you a sharp look.

“Do not.”

You smirk. He doesn’t have time to react. You lunge, straddling the edge of his lap, hands already working into his sides. His laptop hits the bed with a soft thud as he lets out a shocked bark of laughter.

“Hey—! What the hell—Y/N!”

“Get off the laptop!”

He twists under you, laughing helplessly. “You’re seriously doing this right now?!”

“You brought this on yourself, research gremlin!”

He tries to grab your wrists, but you’re fast and way too gleeful. You find the spot just under his ribs and he practically folds, voice cracking mid-laugh.

“Okay—okay! Stop! I give up!”

You slow down, hands resting lightly on his chest as he breathes hard beneath you, flushed and disheveled.

“You’re ridiculous,” he mutters.

“You’re stubborn,” you shoot back, grinning. “And ticklish.”

He glares, chest still rising and falling. “One of these days, I’m getting you back for this.”

You raise a brow. “Sure you are.”

He lets his head drop back on the mattress with a groan, one hand flopping over his face. You call that a win.

[smnthawrites]

a conversation i imagine Y/N and Dean having after she fucks around a little too much :

“What's with that little smirk? Think you’re safe?” “I’m not not safe…” “Think again.” “Dean—” “Nah, go ahead. Start giggling now. Saves time.”

[smnthawrites]

“Keep quiet”

a Dean Winchester x Reader OneShot — nsfw !

a/n : pure smut, messy makeout sesh with Dean while Sam is taking a shower / word count : 317

The second the bathroom door clicks shut and the shower starts running, Dean is on you. Mouth on yours—hot, urgent, all teeth and tongue. No time. His hands are everywhere, dragging your shirt up, tugging your shorts down halfway before your brain catches up. Your back hits the wall, and he groans when his fingers find how ready you are.

“Five minutes,” you whisper.

”More than enough. Gotta be quiet, sweetheart — you think you can do that for me?”

You nod, but you both know it’s a lie. His fingers slide between your thighs, slick and purposeful. You stifle a moan against his shoulder, biting down hard. Dean curses under his breath, lips dragging down your neck, hand working you like he owns you.

“Dean—” Your voice hitches. Your hips chase his touch. “Hurry—please—”

He doesn’t hesitate. Spins you around, bends you over the motel dresser. Your palms slap the surface, head swimming. Then he’s inside you—fast, deep, relentless. No warning. Just him, filling you all at once. You bite your lip hard enough to sting.

“Fuck,” Dean grunts, breath ragged. “So fuckin’ tight—you’re so fuckin’ tight for me, baby—”

The dresser thuds against the wall in time with his thrusts. Dean reaches around, fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure to ruin you. Your legs tremble.

“Gonna take me like a good girl I know you are,” he growls, voice rough and right at your ear as he slams into you again, harder this time—deep enough to knock the breath from your lungs.

You nod, helpless, trembling. Dean groans into your shoulder, thrusts once more and stills, burying himself deep with a sharp, broken grunt. It’s enough to finally throw you over the edge. You come hard, fists clenched, jaw locked. Lips swollen. He stays there, panting. When you look back, breath ragged, your hair a mess, Dean smirks.

“Told you we had time.”

[smnthawrites]

ajhahsfghh anyways uhm…

His hands hover over your sides. “Say it.” “...Never.” “Say I’m the tickle king.” “You’re an asshole.” He cracks his knuckles. “Wrong answer.”

[smnthawrites]

just gonna leave this Sam Winchester x Reader imagine here :

“God, you’re soaked,” he mutters against your skin. “All this from the way I handle you? Or maybe it’s from me whispering in your ear like this—” He curls his fingers just right. You gasp, thighs trembling. “—telling you how good you look when you’re completely wasted?”

[smnthawrites]

“I’m just kissing you”

a Sam Winchester x Reader OneShot — sfw !

a/n : fluff??! / word count : 360

It started with a kiss. Just a sweet, slow press of lips to your cheek as you sat curled up in Sam’s lap, buried under a fleece blanket. The cabin was quiet, the fire still crackling gently across the room. Then another kiss. And another—closer to your neck this time. You tensed.

“Mm… you’re so warm,” Sam murmured, trailing soft, teasing kisses up your jawline. “So cozy. So… twitchy.”

“Don’t,” you breathed, already turning red.

“Don’t what?” he asked, voice all fake innocence as he definitely brushed his lips deliberately across that sensitive spot behind your ear.

You flinched. He grinned.

“Sammmm,” you whined, voice already shaky with half-held-in laughter.

“I’m just kissing you,” he said, arms tightening around your waist to keep you right where you were. “You’re the one acting all flustered and squirmy…”

You bit your lip, already biting back giggles as his lips wandered lower—just to the crook of your neck, where he started peppering slow, fluttery kisses that tingled.

“Stohohop!” you giggled, pressing your hands to his chest as you twisted in his lap. “Y-you’re doing it on purpose!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he purred, now definitely using his lips and a little bit of breath to make you melt. “Just giving my sweetheart some love.”

He shifted slightly, dipping his head to your collarbone and blowing a gentle raspberry that made you squeal.

“Saaam!” you gasped, laughing now, face fully buried in your hands. “I— I c-can’t—I’m gonna die!”

“Aww, poor baby,” he cooed, fingers joining the fun now—lightly dancing along your sides while he kissed just under your jaw. “I thought you liked this…”

“I do!” you whined, blushing so hard your ears burned. “That’s the problem!”

He chuckled, pulling you closer, ignoring your wiggling as his kisses turned feather-light again, just enough to keep you helpless and squeaky and utterly at his mercy.

“Guess I’ll just have to kiss everywhere,” he said, smug as ever. “Until you tell me your least sensitive spot.”

“Th-there isn’t one!”

“Oh no?” He nuzzled your neck with an evil little hum. “Then I guess we’ve got a lot of exploring to do.”

[smnthawrites]

"Say the word"

a Sam Winchester x Reader OneShot — sfw !

a/n : Sam teasing the shit out of you while you’re being a blushing mess / word count : 383

You were already breathless, giggling helplessly beneath Sam as he hovered above you, fingers digging lightly into your sides in maddening circles. He wasn’t going hard, not yet—just enough to drive you slowly insane.

“Okay—okay I c-can’t—!” you squeaked, trying to twist away, face red as hell.

Sam grinned, not relenting for a second. “Can’t what, sweetheart?”

“C-Can’t take it—!”

“Aww. Then say the word and I’ll stop.”

You blinked up at him, confused and gasping. “Wh-what word?”

He leaned down, lips barely brushing your ear.  

“The one you won't say.”

Your breath caught.

“Come on,” he said sweetly. “Say it. Just one little word and I’ll be nice.”

You already knew what it was.

“N-No—” you squirmed, “I-I can’t—!”

“You can,” he teased. “Say it, baby. Say you’re ticklish.”

You let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-whimper, face burning like fire. Sam’s smirk widened.

“Ohhh yeah. That’s it, isn’t it? You can’t even listen to me say it.” His fingers traced up your ribs, so gentle it made you squirm like crazy. “Too flustered just hearing the word tickle?”

“S-SAM—!”

He hummed, dragging his fingers down your tummy. “Mhm. Wonder how much worse it feels when I say it like this.”

His voice dropped, slow and teasing:

“Tickle tickle tickle…”

You shrieked, twisting violently beneath him as he latched onto your hips again, scribbling mercilessly.

“Say it and I’ll stop,” he reminded, grin practically glowing.

You shook your head desperately, eyes screwed shut.

He chuckled darkly. “God, you’re adorable.”

And then his hands paused, just long enough for you to gasp in air—before he trailed one finger down your side again, making your breath catch in your throat.

“Come on, Y/N… say it. Say you’re… ticklish.”

Your whole body tensed. You hated how much that word did to you, how it made you feel exposed and flustered and ridiculously warm all over. But you also couldn’t take much more of this teasing. He was going to ruin you if he didn’t stop. Finally—humiliated and blushing—you squeaked out, barely audible: “…I-I’m… ticklish…”

Sam froze. Then, slowly, that devastating grin spread across his face.

“Ohhh my god,” he said, voice full of smug delight. “You said it. That was the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

You covered your face, practically glowing with embarrassment.