#gencest drabble

[platonic-soulmates-gencest]

Baby Sammy doesn't have a favourite toy, John notices. Unlike Dean, who had an uncanny love for his toy firetruck, Sammy doesn't have any toys he likes.

Dean is getting a vaccine in the room next door and John is trying to distract Sammy with various toys that Dean had packed for him in a bag. Sammy is pushing all the toys away like they have personally wronged him. John can see the tantrum coming. Sam begins to cry and John rocks him but he doesn't stop.

A second later, Dean is out the pediatrician's office and running to Sammy. His sleeve is still all the way rolled up and John can see the car band aid on his arm.

"Hey, Sammy!"

John lets Dean have Sam. Sam immediately settles. His sobbing stops, he's chuckling happily.

Oh. Now John understands. It's not that Sam doesn't have a favourite toy. He has.

It's Dean.

[deergirldean]

dean taking his anger out on sam, throwing punch after punch until sam is pleading and crying at his feet. for a brief moment, dean recognizes what he's done to his brother. he cradles his bloody, bruised body in his arms like a half-dead animal with a broken neck. he peppers kisses along sammy's face, wiping the blood away with the tender pads of his thumbs as sam looks up at him. dean had always been his maker, his executioner.

dean will always be the one to break sam, and he'll always be the one to put him back together, piece by piece. he'll mold his battered corpse of a brother into whatever sick animal he wants him to be.

[winchestermylove]

having thoughts about mutual masturbation with sam and dean.. them being so casual about it because it's not sex, they're just doing something fun together, sharing another part of their lives. it's not like they're touching each other or anything.

they start late one night at a motel, sam thinks dean's asleep, hears his shallow, even breaths. he doesn't want to get up and go to the bathroom to take care of his little issue in fear of dean hearing and waking up and questioning him. so, he stays on his side facing the wall, keeping his movements as slow as possible to prevent himself from making too much noise.

he doesn't even bother slipping his cock out of his boxers, just shoves his hand in and starts with tentative strokes, swiping his thumb over his slit on every other pass.

he doesn't even mean to, but his thoughts begin to wander to dean in the bed next to his, what his hand would feel like on his own dick, what kind of sounds he'd make, how his hot mouth would make him feel. he tried to push them down, down into that dark space in the back of his brain, where they could never surface. he thought of pretty girls he'd seen on tv, all smooth skin and long hair, he thought of the women in the skin mags he used to have as a teen, hidden away at the bottom of his duffel, he even thought of jess,, anything to keep his mind away from the sleeping body in the bed adjacent to his own.

sam speeds up his pace, using his thumb to pick up the bead of precum forming on his tip to drag down his length. soon, against his efforts, his mind wandered back to his big brother, what it would be like to have dean on top of him, grinding down, kissing down his neck, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

before he knew it, sam was climbing closer to the edge, having to turn his face into the pillow to muffle his heavy breaths and stop himself from letting out a whine. he began pulling harder and faster on his cock, desperate to reach the edge and release himself.

sam heard himself inhale sharply. only he didn't feel it. and it sounded like it came from somewhere else in the room, not his own mouth. oh. oh god. he ceased his movements and held his breath, then turned his head around to face the rest of the room.

his eyes met another pair, glistening in the dark from the bed opposite. dean is facing him, unmoving but very clearly understands what sam is doing.

"sammy."

"dean. o-oh my god, dean. i-i'm so sorry, i didn't-" sam panics. this can't be happening right now. he pulls his hand out of his boxers as he sits up, his cheeks burning with humiliation and the remnants of lust.

"sammy." dean follows sams movements and sits up as well, the duvet falling down to his waist from where it was previously hiked up over his shoulders, revealing his bare chest.

"sammy, it's okay, man. stop freaking out."

sam can't even meet deans eyes. his own are beginning to glisten over with unshed tears as he twists his fingers in his lap. this turns out to be a mistake, as when sam looks down at deans lap, he notices that he's sporting a hard-on of his own.

sam's eyes widen, and he looks back up at dean's. dean shifts back until he's leaned up against the headboard, sliding out from under the duvet, exposing his boxer-clad thighs. thighs that sam was thinking unholy thoughts about moments before.

"s' okay, sammy. this doesn't have to be weird." dean's hand reaches down his toned belly to his boxers, resting his hand upon the bulge residing there.

"what-" sam's still stunned, things moving too fast for him to comprehend.

"s' okay sammy. there's nothin' wrong. 's just us."

dean's eyes are on sam's the entire time, and when he reaches into his boxers to cup himself, something inside sam snaps into place.

"fuck." sam sharply inhales as his brain catches up with the occurring events. he leans himself back against his own headboard, his head tilted toward dean and his eyes never leaving the older's.

"dean."

's just us, sammy." dean's hand is moving now, sam can see it through the darkness of the room, the faint moonlight from the window illuminating dean's form.

"god, dean." sam's own hand once again reaches back down into his boxers, his cock back to almost full hardness. he gasps, already way too close to the edge.

his eyes meet dean's, and sam whispers, "just us."

dean's pumping his cock faster now, breathing picking up into soft huffs as he gets himself closer to release.

sam isn't going to last much longer, already strung up from his earlier activities, and his senses are heightened with dean right next to him, watching. he swipes his thumb across his head again, and he's a goner.

"fuck, dean, i-" sam whines.

"you gonna come, sammy?" dean's almost there too, just needs a little more to push him over the edge. "you're so close, aren't you, baby? c'mon, sammy, do it for me, huh? come for your big brother, sammy."

dean's words ring through sam's ears and his grip tightens on his dick. sam's body tenses, he see's stars as he spasms and whines through his climax. his load shoots into his boxers and make his hand slippery for his last few strokes.

"oh, dean, oh my-fuck."

sam's release triggers dean's, and he comes with a shout, stringing together words that sound like, "that's it sammy, that's a good boy. fuck, sammy, my good boy." sam is still experiencing aftershocks and dean shoots streaks of come into his own boxers.

the only sound that can be heard in the room is heavy panting from both of the brothers.

"shit, sam. we need to do that more often." dean shoots sam a lopsided grin through the darkness, and sam sends one back, his breath beginning to even out.

"agreed."

the pair sleeps soundly that night, sated and genuinely relaxed for the first time in what feels like forever. in the morning, they don't talk about it, but share a look of understanding as they step outside for breakfast. no words need to be shared between the two.

the following night, dean sends sam one look and he's shoving his jeans down his hips, already at an agreement.

it's never weird and i think sam and dean do this every night.

[samanddean76]

Unwanted Knowledge

Even though Enochian was flowery and prone to overly descriptive verbiage, it wasn’t an easy language to pick up.  At least that was Dean’s carefully considered opinion on the matter.  If it were possible, he would never speak a word of it and he certainly didn’t want to listen to a single word of it being spoken. 

But Dean needed to learn it.  So, he would know.  So, the screams that woke him in the middle of the night could be understood.  So, he could help Sam, as some days, he struggled to tell the difference between memories and dreams.

[bklynsboys]

picture injured!dean and sam is tending to his wounds

The motel bathroom looked like the aftermath of a battlefront with all the piles of discarded bandages and antiseptic wipes. Dean winced as Sam poked at a gash on his shoulder, the harsh light glinting off the needle.

"You're gonna need stitches for this one," Sam declared, his voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, Doc," Dean muttered, more to himself than Sam. He caught a glimpse of his reflection—a mess of worry lines and exhaustion. "Just hurry up, will ya? I'm whacked and I wanna go to sleep, but I gotta find a decent burger joint."

Sam snorted, unsurprised at how Dean was trying to underestimate his injuries. He finished cleaning the wound and reached for the suture kit. "Alright, alright, Buffy. Just don't blame me when you scare off every waitress with these war wounds."

A hint of a smile crossed Dean's face. He braced himself, but instead of the needle, he felt a gentle touch on his cheek. Sam was leaning in, his lips brushing against the corner of Dean's mouth. It was a fleeting kiss, a silent "thank you" for all the battles they fought, side-by-side.

[whims-of-a-star]

Nothing

Days after Sam’s death and subsequent resurrection, Dean refuses to stop sleeping in the same bed as him. When they both settle into the sheets Dean wraps himself around Sam as if he is once more the little 12 year old brother, tucking Sam’s head under his chin.

Despite Sam’s complaints, he lets Dean maneuver him into being the little spoon, curling long limbs to his chest as he settles himself in his big brother’s arms, ear against chest.

Sam doesn’t remember much in the time between passing out from the pain in his back and waking up in an old shack, doesn’t understand Dean’s sudden desire to be near him, but allows it anyway. And truth be told, he missed his brother’s warmth, tightly wound around him and emanating safety and home. After a certain age, Dean had begun to dislike showing physical affection, or ‘chick-flick’ moments as he calls it, and Sam had been fine with it, wanting to not be treated like a kid anymore.

Still, when Sam is half-asleep in the middle of the night and feels the soft press of lips in his hair, he says nothing. And when he chooses to shift a bit closer to his big brother, listening to the strong ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dumps of his heart, Dean says nothing too.

[hexedwinchester]

throw me your best Sam Winchester fic!!! it could be your work even (by all means, please advertise)!! But it has the best you have read or written.. like you-have-bookmarked-it best. Like you-have-an offline-version-downloaded best. Like you-worship-the-author best. Like you-wish-it-was-an-episode best. Like you-are-bummed-it-isn't-an-episode-already best. It could be anything: Sam Whump, wincest, gencest, casefic, AUs, one shot, drabbles..

[ao3wincest]

An Easy Hunt

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/0pwJFGt by EnInkahootz Dean is injured on a hunt while Sam is at Stanford. Words: 300, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen, M/M Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Discord: The Winchester Gospels: A Wincest Writing Discord (Supernatural), Triple Drabble, Brothers, Injury, Stanford Era (Supernatural), Could be gencest or Wincest as you choose, Non-Graphic Violence read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/0pwJFGt

[pastorpresent]

"Wakey wakey time, Sammy."

Sam jolted awake. Or at least, his body tried to jolt. It was difficult when he was tied to the bed frame by every limb. He yanked his hands forward, fingers curled into fists as he tried to use all his strength to break the rope.

It didn't budge. All he achieved was making his tender wrists sting more as the material dug into his skin.

"Oh come on Sam, you know you're not breaking out of this one." Dean mocked, his eyes flashing black.

Sam resisted the urge to flinch. It was horrifying, seeing his brother as one of those. He understood why Dean had been so freaked when he was at the height of his demon blood kick. There was something deeply disturbing about such familiar eyes turning pitch black, eliminating those speckles of green that Sam had grown up seeing in them. Eliminating that barely there softness he often reserved for Sam.

"I have to say, we're going to have so much fun baby brother. The plans I have for you..." he approached the bed, and Sam tried to tug at his confines again in one last ditch effort. Not an inch of give.

Dean always had been an expert at tying knots. Sam wasn't going anywhere.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed next to him, lifting the knife to Sam's face.

He tensed, staying as rigid and still as possible as the light reflected off the metal, making it glint in such a pretty way despite the fact that whatever it was going to inflict was sure to be the opposite.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, gasped as the cold metal came downwards to press against his neck.

For one painful moment he truly believed this was it. He was going to die at the hands of his own brother - the same one who had been protecting him all his life. He was going to bleed out in the bunker with his neck slit, just another casualty of Dean's demon side.

But the sharp edge barely pressed into his skin enough to draw a few drops of blood, and then it was removed.

When Sam let his eyes flicker open, Dean was staring at him. His eyes were soft and his smirk held something fond, and if Sam didn't know better? He would've probably thought this was his Dean again.

But there was still something too oddly unsettling about the expression, rooted a little deeper that Sam could really process right now.

"My beautiful baby brother. You went wrong, but we can fix that, me and you. We can get you back on the right path." Dean lifted the knife again, using it to brush some hair from Sam's face.

Sam kept his expression hard. He wasn't giving this thing the satisfaction of seeing him afraid.

Well, that was the plan until the knife was drawn back, and Dean used it to slice open a long cut down his own wrist.

The blood immediatly beaded on the surface, trickling over his skin and drip, drip, drip onto the bed sheets below.

"W-what are you doing? What are you..." Sam trailed off, swallowing hard because he could see exactly where this was going and he needed Cas here now.

"I'm helping you, like I should of all those years ago. This is what your destined for - strength, power, control... you're our boyking, Sammy. It's high time you finally take your throne." Dean hummed, and Sam shook his head desperately.

Cas where the hell are you?!

"No, no please. I- I can't. I don't want to be, please don't." He was begging a demon, and it felt low, embarrassing. But he couldn't do this. He couldn't get back on the stuff, he'd quite literally rather die first.

"Shhh, it's ok Sammy. You remember it, right? How delicious it was. How strong it made you feel pumping through your veins. Let's be honest here, if I hadn't stopped you back then? You'd still be chugging the stuff and have hell under the heel of your boot by now." Dean was talking about it in such a dreamy manner, and he lifted his hand to brush soothingly through Sam's hair.

Sam hated that his body relaxed to the gesture at all, swallowing down the urge to cry.

"Me and you. Forever. You rule hell and I sit at your side, your highness. Your faithful knight."

It was painful to want someone when that someone was sat right in front of you. A twisted, scary and horrible version of that person.

It was Dean's words, his touch, his smile. Things Sam had always responded to automatically. Things that made up all of his earliest memories and things that normally made him feel safe, and that ingrained desire to do everything his big brother asks him to was still very much present even if Dean wasn't fully human anymore.

Even if what he was asking would make him not fully human, too.

"Dean..." it came out more like a whimper than he intended, and those eyes filled with pity.

"You're ok, Sammy. I'm here. Just let it all go and stop thinking so hard."

His wrists were untied slowly, and Sam didn't even try anything. All he could do was watch Dean, feeling tiny and vulnerable and slightly terrified as the demon slid behind him on the bed, and Sam found himself resting against the solid chest of his brother.

"Drink, Sammy." Dean repeated, lifting his wrist up towards Sam's lips, with his free hand drawing lazy circles over his side.

Sam was shaking. A tremor was wracking his body, and Dean moved his hand up to run through his hair, and he felt lips press against the shell of his ear.

"Drink."

Sam let the flesh press against his mouth, letting himself latch on and suck as his fingers gripped at the limb being offered to him like it was his lifeline.

"Good boy."

Dean's eyes returned to black, but Sam couldn't see them anymore.

[platonic-soulmates-gencest]

Toddler Dean taking care of Infant Sammy had no idea of all the milestones babies were supposed to hit so for a very long time he kept feeding Sam exactly what Mom fed him at 6 months old. It takes John six months to remember that Sammy was one year old and should have been eating kinda solid foods for a while now.

He sits Dean down and explains to him that they have to give Sammy solid foods now and they should have started a while ago. And little Dean internalizes the blame. He's convinced it's his fault that they are so late. He had to have given Sammy solid food earlier (even though it obviously isn't his fault and no 5 year old should know what babies have to eat at which month of their development).

John doesn't notice how Dean is feeling.

Dean whispers "sorry" to a sleeping Sammy a million times that night. And he promises to do better.

Cue a few years later Dean insisting Sam eat his vegetables because he remembers Mary telling Dean that at that age. (Dean eats a fruit or vegetable maybe once a week if he remembers. Sam eats every other day. Dean is very adamant about it.)

Uh so yeah... what I'm trying to say is what if Sam's discipline about eating his greens came from a little Dean who was trying his best?? But Dean didn't have anyone pushing him to eat healthy food so uh... yeah... idk...

Anyway, happy mommy dean monday!

[deergirldean]

late seasons dean slowly trying to mold sam into a younger version of himself.

the changes are subtle at first, sam hardly even noticing until one day he wakes up and realizes he looks 22 again.

coaxing sam into cutting his hair a little shorter bit by bit, secretly keeping the locks of hair he cuts off in a small box underneath his pillow. for safekeeping, of course!

feeding him lousy food, more than he would usually eat as an attempt to get back some of the baby fat sam's cheeks used to have. once his cheeks get a little puffier, dean pinches them as if he wasn't a grown man.

slowly shaping sam's wardrobe, trying to revert back to the way he used to dress. dean buys his jeans a little tighter, shirts a little shorter. after all, what's the point in molding his baby brother into his younger self if he can't reap the benefits?

[winchestermylove]

samdean drabbles

holding hands (314 words)

sam calling dean mommy (699 words)

first kiss in the bunker (488 words)

[moonlightdistractions]

Thinking about Sam and Dean fluff with just the barest edge of angst. There has to be some hurt, enough to get that sweet sweet comfort. Maybe a bruised and bloody little brother that needs tending to or an older brother that's dealing with abandonment issues and needs reassurance. Or both brothers are hurt and exhausted emotionally so their walls are down, and they lean into one another to seek comfort. A quiet moment, maybe in Baby just as the sun is setting and a warm glow settles on Sam's hair and Dean can't look away, his brother is beautiful.

[fussy-sammy]

Every once in a while, Dean calls Sam while he’s drunk.

Leaves voicemails talking about recent hunts or something Dad said. He leaves one at Christmas time, asking to meet with Sam for the holidays.

Sam always listens to them but he never answers them. He knows Dean wouldn’t want him to.

[whims-of-a-star]

Suit

It catches Sam’s eyes as they’re walking through the small town. Dean is forced to stop when Sam does, gaze trained on something.

“Sammy? What’s—“ Dean inhales sharply as his eyes trail to where Sam’s focus is.

It’s a white suit, displayed through glass on a male mannequin.

SamLucifer stood there, wearing a white suit and holding a plucked rose in his fingers.

“Since when did you get an interest in clothes? Are you tapping into your feminine side?” Dean asks jokingly, but his tone wavers slightly in nervousness.

“Hello, Dean,” Lucifer greeted with a stolen quirked smile.

Sam gives him a bitch face before replying, “I was just looking.” He pauses, turning back to the suit. “But maybe I could pull it off…”

“Nope! Nope, white isn’t your colour.” Dean hurriedly yanks Sam’s wrist and drags him away.

They walk in silence after that, and Dean can’t help but play Lucifer’s words over and over in his head.

"No matter what you do, no matter what choices you make, what details you alter, we will always end up…here."

“Not ever, asshole.” Dean growls under his breath.

“You really hate white that much, Dean?” Sam asks with an amused smile.

“No, no. It’s just…” Dean trails off and realizes he’s still holding tightly to Sam’s wrist, quickly letting go with a slightly embarrassed flush over his cheeks.

“Just?”

“Just nothing. Are we finding this shifter or what?” he snaps, walking ahead of his brother, who snorts behind him.

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

Sam looks great in white, but the sight of the Devil being present with the suit on has burned all prospects of Dean ever letting his little brother wear white. Not that Dean will ever tell Sam that.

[fandom-hoarder]

Dean's got the turkey resting in the roaster on the table, phone on speakerphone on the counter as Donna talks him through making the gravy.

There's a sudden shout from behind, and Dean turns around to see Sam splattered with fresh whipped cream.

Dean's supposed to be whisking the gravy and listening for Donna's next instruction, but they can both wait a minute as he licks up his brother's sweet, sticky face.