#weecest ficlet

[samofmine]

"Stop looking at me like that!" Sam says, high pitched and annoyed, but well, no. Dean very much can't stop looking at him like that.

(aka I couldn't stop thinking about this so here's a weecest with sam in a cropped top and the inner chaos it ensues on dean)

Like what, anyway? He just hopes he's not drooling.

Sam came home an hour ago. He insisted on going shopping for his own clothes, saying Dean never got his right size, the pants looked too baggy and the shirts too loose. Well, forgive him if he doesn't want Sam parading the shape of his body to everyone. He gets enough catcalls from creeps in gas stations and sideroad bars as it is.

But Dean can't really use that as an argument, so yes, go the fuck ahead and buy your own clothes if you're so self sufficient, he said, and oh how it bit him in the ass.

Sam's fashion preference happened to be a pair of ragged jeans, red converse sneakers, and a freaking cropped top. A white, loose cropped top, short enough he can see everything from under Sam's nipples to the curve of his hipbone, loose enough it reveals Sam's collarbones as he moves.

Sammy's stomach. The smooth, milky skin wrapping around his small waist. His hip bones. Hell, even his belly button. Dean feels dizzy.

It's not like Dean's never seen it before. He bathed the kid, changed his diapers, but it's all a distant memory now, since Sam's puberty hit and he started acting like such a girl, shy to even be in the same room as a shirtless Dean, and god forbid Dean ever needs to piss when he's in the shower, because he will be throwing a tantrum before he even gets to step inside the bathroom.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. It would take more than bitchy mood swings and annoying brattiness to make Sam any less endearing to Dean.

He's still his little brother. His baby. Dean's everything.

He's not saying he misses the closeness, the tangled limbs under bedsheets when it was too cold and lying too close together when they had to share a crappy motel fan during a heat wave. But now that all of that is in the past, he simply wasn't prepared to see so much of Sam.

He wants to put his hands on each side of his waist and see if they still fit perfectly.

He wants to brush his fingers under his belly button and see if he can still track the goosebumps running through his body by watching his skin from close enough.

He wants... He wants.

He won't do any of that, though, because he doesn't want to be yelled at and he definitely doesn't want to deal with a moody Sammy for the rest of the week.

So, he stares. Sam has to grant him at least that.

"Looks weird, I know it." Sam looks down, and Dean notices his hands are trying to cover his stomach. "Just stop staring. It's hot today."

Dean blinks. What. What?

"What?" He can't help it. "Why do you think I'm staring? D'you think I'm gonna make fun of you?"

"Well." Sam looks at him, all bitchy faced. "Why else?"

Dean wants to laugh. Or cry. This is ridiculous.

If I could take a picture of you like this and keep it next to my bed so it's the first thing I see everyday, I'd be doing it right now. Seriously. Just give me a camera.

Obviously he can't say any of that. So.

"Why don't you wear a skirt to complete the look?" He teases, but crap, that was not the right thing to say, not just because the image of Sam in a skirt crosses his mind and he feels faint from it, but because of Sam's pained expression as soon as he heard the words.

"You're a jerk." Sam says and lies down on his bed, his back to Dean. He pulls the covers on top of him as if he's trying to hide.

Dean moves before he can even rationalize it. "Sammy, c'mon." He says, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. "I was joking."

"Leave me alone." He gets in response.

Dean takes a deep breath, tries to go through his mental Sammy manual to see if he has any way of fixing this.

Feels like nothing he can say or do will make any difference.

So, to hell with it.

"You look good." He says. If Sam's gonna be pissed at him anyway, let it be for his honesty instead of his bad jokes.

Sam tenses up under the blanket, Dean notices of course.

"You don't mean that." Sam's voice is smaller, vulnerable, tugging on Dean's heartstrings like nothing else does.

"Of course I..." He sighs in frustration. "Let me see you."

Sam turns to lie on his back just so he can look at Dean, confused. Well, at least he's looking at him.

Dean grabs the blanket and pulls it down.

"Stop! Give it back." Sam whines, pulling it back. He's so goddamn loud, for no reason.

Dean rolls his eyes and holds Sam's wrists to make him stop.

"Let me see you, Sammy." He says, in a way anyone else would think is an order, even their dad, but only Sam knows this is him pleading.

He lets go of Sam's wrists to put the blanket away. Sam lets him.

Dean takes a moment, takes in the sight.

Sam's hands are still shyly on top of his stomach, hiding it.

Dean swallows dry.

He slowly reaches and moves Sam's hand so he can touch him, fingers almost shaking from the excitement, and Sam's stomach clenches under his touch.

He looks up to meet Sam's eyes. He's looking at him, nervous and flushed and beautiful, and Dean wants to keep him to himself, wants to lock them inside this room and throw away the key or fucking swallow it, because no way in hell he's ever going to allow anyone else to see Sam like this.

"You look good." He repeats, not recognizing his own voice, it comes out strangled and pathetic and he has to take a deep breath.

"Thanks." Sam says softly, so damn soft, Dean doesn't think locking him in the room will be enough. He's gonna have to eat him.

He brushes his fingers lightly across Sam's stomach and he squirms, fucking squirms, laughing under him.

"Tickles." Sam whines.

And, well, if doing that will make Sammy lose the scowl, game on.

Dean starts to tickle his tummy, laughing along with Sam as he drinks in every movement.

"Stop!" Sam laughs, grabbing his hand.

The pause in their movements is too long and with their eyes locked Dean forgets to breathe.

"Well, do you believe me?" He says once he remembers, "Or should I say it again?"

"I believe you." Sam says, shyly.

"What was that? I didn't hear it." Dean leans down, closer to hear him better.

"Shut up, you heard me." Sam is still smiling.

"How come you're always avoiding me lately?" Maybe now is not the time to talk about this, he knows Sam's good mood is fragile and he shouldn't be tempting it, but. He has to know.

"I'm not. I just... Feel weird around you."

"Weird?" Dean asks, confused.

"I don't know. Shut up." Sam says, but he's still smiling, even though it's a more nervous smile. "Just... Weird. Like I always want more of it. Don't ask me to explain it, I just know I shouldn't feel this way. I just do, though."

Dean blinks at him, digesting.

"It's probably cause we spend most of the time in small rooms with not enough space even to have personal space."

Nerd, Dean thinks.

But such a cute fucking nerd. He has no idea what he's even talking about but at least Sam isn't tired of him or hates him. He just feels weird, and Dean can totally understand that.

"You're such a weirdo." He says, not holding back his smile. Sam laughs weakly and Dean feels high on it.

Maybe that's why he leans in and kisses his forehead.

He feels Sam freezing under him but it's been so long since he let him this close, so damn long, he can't stop.

He kisses the tip of his nose.

Sam holds his breath.

Dean kisses his chin.

"De?" Sam's voice is so small, Dean is going insane.

When he meets his eyes again he notices Sam isn't looking at him with confusion or annoyance like he expected.

He decides to push his luck.

"What? I can't kiss you, anymore, either?" He says, testing the waters. "When you were little you wouldn't go to sleep without a goodnight kiss from me, remember that?"

Sam groans in embarassment, but he's still smiling, cheeks tainted pink.

"I was a kid. 'M not a kid anymore."

"So I shouldn't kiss you then." Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Why would you even want to kiss me?" Sam says, not meeting his eyes.

Dean can't even register the question. Seriously.

"Have you looked at yourself?" He says. "How could I not?"

He travels his eyes down Sam's body, his stomach drawing his attention again.

He stares for a moment too long.

"You can." Sam says, almost a whisper.

Dean meets his eyes, not sure what he was talking about. Maybe he got distracted, sue him.

Sam notices and rolls his eyes.

"Kiss me, I mean." He explains shyly "Miss your goodnight kisses, too."

And Dean feels himself buzz with excitement, fingers going numb from wanting to reach and touch and hold and do everything at once.

He sighs in frustration and lets his head drop forward, resting his forehead against Sam's stomach.

"You'll be the death of me." He says against Sam's skin. He hopes it's a promise. Only death could free him from this longing. Maybe not even death.

And there they are. The goosebumps.

He smiles. He can't help but kiss him, right on top of his bellybuton. He takes his time, too, letting his lips brush against the skin, breathing in Sam's scent.

Sam is quiet but Dean can hear his breath getting heavier.

He continues.

He kisses every bit of skin he can reach, lips brushing across Sam's stomach from one kiss to the other, never wanting to break the contact.

"Feels weird." Sam lets out a choked sigh.

"Bad weird?" Dean asks, looking up at him.

"Just weird." Sam says. "Probably bad weird. But I like it."

Dean looks at him, words escaping him.

Sam smiles sweetly and cups his face with his hand.

"I like everything you make me feel, De. Even though I hate that I like it sometimes."

Dean leans back to get a better view of Sam's expression, wants to register it in his brain so he can remember it the next time Sam avoids him again.

"Same here, Sammy." He says, simply, because he has no idea how to put into words the relief he's feeling.

He looks at Sam's stomach, places his hands on each side of his waist. Rubs his thumb against his skin.

"Fits." He says, more to himself.

Sam's hand finds his face again, this time under his chin, making him look up.

They're really damn close to each other. Dean's eyes stop on Sam's lips.

Sam is leaning in. His hand move from his chin to hold Dean's shoulder, both hands, and he closes his eyes and he continues to lean in and Dean feels like everything is happening way too slowly but he could never rush this.

Sam kisses him. It's nothing but a peck, but it's enough to awake the monster that's been dorment inside Dean's soul all this time and he can't stop himself from pulling Sam towards him by the neck, to kiss him better, to kiss him harder, to feel his lips against his tongue.

Sam tries to follow Dean's rythm, letting out small whimpers that make Dean even more hungry.

He guides him so they both move on the bed and he sits him on his lap. Sam's arms immediately lock around his neck.

They kiss for so long Dean starts to feel lightheaded, but he still wants more, because it's Sammy, and Sammy is kissing him back and he wants everything Sam gives him and he almost wants more.

After too long but not even close to long enough Dean lies them down, but they continue to trade kisses until Sam falls asleep first, Dean's hands firm on his waist, keeping them close enough they share each breath. Dean decides this, right here, like this, is where they belong. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[motelsnleatherseats]

Sam finally got invited to his first party, and Dean couldn't be happier for the kid. For too long had he had his nose buried in books, for too long had he hid his shy and somewhat awkward gaze towards girls behind hair too long. Dean was always wondering when he'd finally dive into a social life instead of just pining for one, and it was comforting to see Sam get excited about the prospect of making friends and meeting girls.

Until it wasn't.

Watching Sam spend too long in the bathroom getting ready made Dean feel a little unsettled. His baby brother had never invested so much time in his looks before, he had never tried to impress anyone outside of tidbits of specifically niche information he could recall off the top of head in some geeky spiel that would only excite the equally nerdy. But now he was combing his fingers through his hair, brushing his teeth just once more before he'd be ready to go, splashing just a little bit of aftershave on his neck despite never bringing a razor to his baby-faced complexion.

Dean was dragging his feet while Sam was impatiently trying to rush him out the door, complaining about being late.

Are you sure you know enough people going? Ugh, yes.

Do you have your blade with you? Seriously Dean, can we just go, please?

You sure you don't want me to go with you? Yeah, cause I really need a chaperone.

Maybe Dean took an extra back road, maybe just drove a couple miles per hour under the speed limit, looking for any excuse to keep Sam by his side a little bit longer. He couldn't help but think tonight would be the night that some cute little thing who barely developed tits over the summer would find Sam just too adorable not to sink her teeth into, and the thought made him stomach-sick.

Once they had pulled up to the party, Dean watched with a frown as Sam checked his reflection once more in the rearview mirror, making sure one hair wasn't out of place.

Don't drink too much. Dean--

Seriously Sammy, just be careful. I'm always careful.

Call me if you need me, okay? I'll be fine.

One more thing.

Dean reached over and curled his hand at the back of Sam's neck, pulling him in to press their lips together, much to Sam's shock and dismay. He gave a petulant whine and even moved to wipe his lips with the back of his hand as he stared at Dean incredulously with a 'what the hell was that for?'

Now when someone asks you if you've ever kissed someone before, you can say yes. You're such a creep, I swear to God.

Dean watched as Sam scoot himself out of the Impala, a disgruntled look on his face as he stormed off to the party, but Dean smirked. No one got to lay claim on Sammy before him.

[flowers-in-the-basement]

john finds out

It's late when John gets back, not too late though cause he's been trying to cut back on his drinking, too many bad memories, too many barfights. Sam's 17 now full of secret looks he can't understand and angst over the whole world.

The motels dark when he gets back, as he expected, what he didn't expect to hear while fumbling with the keys outside is the faint sound of moans from inside. This isn't the strangest thing he's heard, he knows what his eldest gets up to but it still worries him, where is Sam?

John doesn't care if he walks in on his son with a girl, besides it's nothing he hasn't seen before.

He opens the door.

the curtains were closed, obscuring the faint light on the inside from a lamp. Inside deans-

Dean's fucking sam.

It's hard to assume anything really, he stands in the doorway dumb with shock and disgust.

The next thing he does is take out his gun, and then Dean notices him.

Fuck

Dean hurls himself off of Sam and looks up at his father, tears in his eyes already as if he deserves to cry, after what he's done to his brother. Dean crumples to the floor, wrapped in a blanket.

Sam just stands up, fully naked (and John could see everything before but this is still. Too. Much)

"dad! It's my fault"

(my fault my fault my fault)

How could it be Sams fault? It must be Dean's, Dean's meant to keep him in check, Dean's meant to keep him safe.

He orders dean to get dressed and to meet him outside, theyre taking a drive to talk about it, what to do (should he kill his eldest son, his pride and joy?) (this is unforgivable but he can't... think of a life without dean)

[sheep33hallow]

Wincest Drabble: Meeting again ( Wincest)

He hadn't seen Dean since going off to Stanford. Now, here he was, standing on his brother's porch staring at him through the screen door. 

His brother, who he didn't know, was now his new neighbor. 

His wife, Jess, sent him over there to play nice while she was at work. Saying a family, she met one of the members, had recently moved him, and he offered to change her oil as a sign of good grace. Said the man was charming and handsome. 

Kind of had similar mannerism to Sam, she said. 

Too right on the nose. 

"Dean." His raspy voice said. Tinged with surprise. 

Dean, still beautiful as the day he left, leaned against the doorway. He raised an eyebrow at Sam. "Sammy." His big brother grinned. "You filled out nicely, didn't you?" Dean crossed his arms, looking Sam up and down with appreciation. 

"I–uhh." He was holding a freshly baked pie, Jess made, in his hands. His hold on the pan was tightening at each passing moment. His body felt tense. 

His beautiful Omega brother. 

His first knot popped inside of him. 

"Dean." Was all he could repeat. His higher brain function was acting up. He never thought he'd see Dean again. Their Father caught them one night, and shipped him off to Bobby's who eventually helped him get to school. Dean knew he was accepted into Stanford, and they had plans for Dean to visit before the blow up. 

It was only around five years ago that Omegas got their rights, and didn't need an Alpha's approval anymore on legal documents. Dean stayed with Dad, he assumed. Bobby said he had their Dad's number, but never said anything about Dean having a phone number. 

Now, his brother after seven years, was in front of him. 

Dean opened up his screen door. "Come inside. You're going to break that glassware, you idiot." 

Like an lure, he followed his brother's hand gesturing him inside. 

The door swung shut behind him. Looking around, he saw toddler items, but no toddler. 

Dean brought him into the kitchen. He took the pie from Sam, and gently pushed at his shoulder. "Go sit down Sasquatch." He meant toward the kitchen table, and Sam listened. 

He quietly watched Dean. His brother had moving boxes around his kitchen. One box labeled plates, he opened up and took out two places, and took a knife out of the drawer. "How big you want it?" Said Dean. The side of his body was facing Sam from the counter. 

Sam swallowed. "Any is fine." 

Dean chuckled. "Still like me making decisions for you?" He said in jest. Smiling into himself, he cut two pieces and put them on the plates. 

Sam couldn't deny it. He liked to followed Dean around like a puppy. Lost with no direction, just using his nose to make sure Dean was always in high spirits and pleased. 

He wants to smell Dean now. 

Dean walks over to the table, sitting across from Sam. He put a plate in front of both of them with plastic forks. "Castiel hasn't unloaded everything. Half the kitchen is in his car." 

Sam blinked. "Castiel?" He inquired. 

"I guess you can say my mate, but he's a friend. He's an Alpha who wanted a kid, and asked me to carry it." Dean ate a slice. 

"So it's not yours technically?" 

"Oh, no that brat is mine." He chuckles. "But we did it more as a family thing. He's not very close with his father or siblings." He clears his throat. "We bonded over that aspect." He looks into Sam's eyes. 

"You knew where I was Dean." He gazed back. Not touching his pie. 

Dean waves him off. "Not important. Anyway, we decided to have a kid. Painfully boring sex on both sides. He doesn't have a sexual or romantic bone in his body, but is a great parent to Claire. So boom. Work out, and we can walk around without people knowing the truth." 

________

A.N: Just wanted to post something.

[ficforthought]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester Additional Tags: Weecest, Fantasizing, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Based on a Visual Prompt Series: Part 8 of Weecest Flash Fics Summary:

Dean's on a date, and still all he can think about is his sexy baby brother.

GIF credit

[fandom-hoarder]

⏳Timey Wimey Wincest 2: Electric Boogaloo ⌛

💜 Ft. Younger!Dean/Older!Sam 💜

+ a side of Samcentric and honorable mentions

~

[on tumblr]

💙 This ficlet by @writinginthesecrettrees

~

[on AO3]

💜 The Ghost In You by AmyPond45

Rating: Mature | Words: 3860 | No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: In an effort to ease his grief after Dean dies, Sam visits Dean in the past, during the Stanford era, when Dean’s missing his brother something awful.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Post-Finale, Grief/Mourning

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💜 Return to Thunder Dome by raidensrealm

Rating: Explicit | Words: 6918 | Underage

Summary: As a firefighter from the year 2115, Sam readies himself to time jump. After almost twenty years he reflects on the wild events leading to when his sixteen year old self witnessed when he kicked through the cabin door at Yosemite State Park like some big damn movie hero.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Alternate Universe - Firefighters, Earthquakes, Boys Kissing, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Consensual, Landslide, Yosemite - Freeform, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform, shower makeout sesh, HEA, First Kiss, First Time

My Note: I don't usually read AU, so if you're like me and kinda want to back away from that AU firefighters tag, let me just tell you that it's not like that, bestie, I prommy. It's sci-fi, which is kissing cousins with supernatural. It's time travel and action and feels.

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💜 Welcome to Your Future by klove0511

Rating: Teen+ | Words: 11336 | No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When Dean is suddenly pulled through time, he's confronted with a broken little brother a decade older than he should be. With Sam determined to send Dean back to his own time, will Dean be able to figure out where his present day counterpart is and fix things for Sam?

Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, season 9/10 Sam Winchester, Mutual Pining, implied unrequited sam/cas, Show level violence, Demon Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Suicide

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💜 The Time Traveler's Brother by AmyPond45

Rating: Mature | Words: 54752 | Underage

Summary: Dean's life is turned upside down the night his mother dies. But that's also the night a mysterious grown-up version of Dean's brother first appears in his life. While Dean grows up, "Old Sam" is often there, especially when Dean's father isn't. As Dean learns what the future holds, he begins to question everything his father has taught him about who he is and what he is supposed to become. Can Dean find a way to save his little brother from his own future?

Additional Tags: Underage - Freeform, Pre-Series, First Time, Schmoop, Cuddling, Romance, soul-mates, older sam/younger dean, bottom!Dean, Top!Sam, rating: R - Freeform, Hurt!Sam, hurt!Dean, time-travel, Weechesters, Wincest - Freeform, Sam/Dean - Freeform, Sam Winchester/Dean Winchester - Freeform, powers!Sam, Happy Ending, Multiple Sams, Multiple Deans, Alternate Reality, Soulless!Sam, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, POV: Dean

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💜 A Brief Moment in Time by Annie46fic

Rating: Mature | Words: 8903 | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Summary: Dean's death was caused by the Mark of Cain. Sam decides to go back to a time before all of this started. After finding a suitable spell he finds himself back in Truman High, and goes hunting for Dean who is now the younger brother. Posing as a janitor Sam finds Dean, but can he change things for good this time? Or will everything go to hell?

Additional Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Younger Dean/Older Sam, Bottom Sam, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, contains NSFW art, Implied/Referenced Character Death

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💜 The Midnight Rider by AmyPond45

Rating: Explicit | Words: 5173 | Underage

Summary: Did Sam really "stop" looking for Dean after he disappeared at the end of Season 7? Or is there just something Sam did that he doesn't want Dean to know about? Soon after the brothers move into the bunker, Dean has a weird dream, and when he confronts Sam about it, he gets some answers he wasn't quite expecting.

Additional Tags: Wincest - Freeform, Time Travel, Bottom!Sam, Schmoop, fix-it for Season 8, Wincest Big Bang 2016

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💜 Most Things Happen Somewhere Else by riyku

Rating: Explicit | Words: 3300 | Underage

Summary: A storm is ripping across the plains the night that the guy shows up.

Additional Tags: Time Travel

My Notes: This fic inspired the one listed above it, The Midnight Rider, but I personally enjoyed reading this one second as it's like it colors in the details from Dean's POV.

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💜 It's the Blueprint of Your Life by queenklu

Rating: Explicit | Words: 38400 | No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: Sam jerks awake in the middle of the night and everything goes to hell. Well, not literally, though Dean is staring down the barrel of less than a year before his deal comes due. In the midst of dealing (or not dealing) with his impending death, a killer ghost ship, and Bela showing up out of the blue, Dean also has to figure out what’s going on in Sam’s head to make him so twitchy, why he’s suddenly breezing through this case while writing endless notes in a notebook he won’t let Dean see. Damn it, Dean thinks, This is gonna take a lot of chickflick moments.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Fix-It

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💜 Ganymede Summer by phoenixflight

Rating: Explicit | Words: 4254 | Underage

Summary: Tracking down a series of disappearances, Sam gets flung back in time and has to solve the case with sixteen year old Dean. It's very distracting.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Case Fic, Established Relationship, First Time, Rimming, Bottom Dean Winchester, Younger Dean Winchester/Older Sam Winchester

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💜 You Can't Go Home Again by AmyPond45

Rating: Teen+ | Words: 27799 | No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: Sam and Dean discover evidence that they time-traveled to 1983 to help their Dad and their younger selves right after their mother died. Then things get complicated.

Additional Tags: Season 9 AU, Time Travel, Wincest - Freeform, established wincest, Prequel AU, outsider pov, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Weechesters, Schmoop, cuddling goo, chick-flick-moments, Happy Ending, Fluff, Pre-Series

~

My Note: Despite this having both pairs of siblings, I decided this fic strictly belongs on this list because it's from wee!Dean's POV and wee!Sam is a baby. Outsider POV my beloved -- with a twist!

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💜 Come to Leave Me by raziella

Rating: Explicit | Words: 49834 | Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Summary: He just wanted to change some things - go back and redo the parts that lead to this. He didn't expect to end up here.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Season/Series 11, Pre-Series, Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Age Difference, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, First Time, Sam has moral objections, John is a complex character, Underage Drinking, Bisexual Dean, Sibling Incest, Self-Esteem Issues, Angels are Dicks, John's A+ Parenting, Teenchesters, BAMF Sam, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Temporary Character Death, Fix-It

My Note: This was lost in my tabs and added to this list October 1, 2022. It's epic!!

[samcentric]

❤ To Take Your Hand and Feel Your Breath by AmyPond45

Rating: Teen+ | Words: 12089 | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Summary: Two months into Dean’s tour of Hell, Sam rescues him, with a little help from a friend from an alternate future. From his future self, Sam learns there are much worse things than Dean turning into a demon in Hell, and much darker futures await the Winchesters if Sam can’t get Dean out in time.

Additional Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, au for season 4, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Sam Winchester Saves Dean Winchester, Selfcest

My Note: This fic is really more about past!Sam and future!Sam interacting, though you do get some Dean interaction at the end.

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❤ Pick Myself Up Off The Ground by WetSammyWinchester

Rating: Explicit | Words: 14790 | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Summary: When hellhounds came for his brother, Sam was overwhelmed by grief and guilt, and willing to do anything to bring Dean back. Then a man who looks just like him shows up from the future with a story of angels and Armageddon.

This other Sam is dealing with his own guilt and loss, but he has a plan to stop the apocalypse before it begins and to rescue Dean. Now, the two of them must work together - two Sams to bring back one Dean.

Additional Tags: Angst, Time Travel, Spells & Enchantments, Sam Winchester Big Bang 2017, Hurt Sam Winchester, Grieving Sam, Vessel Trauma, Mutual Masturbation, Sam Winchester-centric

My Note: There's a sequel I haven't read yet.

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❤ The Only Place I Ever Called Home Was You by hunters_retreat

Rating: Mature | Words: 6000 | Underage

Summary: Sam and Dean never talk about what happened that night, but what happens when they find themselves in the same town, the night before everything went wrong? Can they change their past? And if they can, what happens to their future?

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Underage - Freeform

~

[honorable mentions; some of these are on both lists]

💚 Not Her Sam by Yuval25

Rating: Teen+ | Words: 4866 | No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: "Oh," Sam says, and it's not her Sam, it's the other Sam, the older one, the broken one.

This Sam has not been hers for twelve years.

Basically, Future Dean goes back in time to change the future and saves Jess. Future Sam tags along unexpectedly. And Jess is okay. No, seriously. She's fine.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Fix-It, Older Dean, Older Sam, Slash, Older Dean/Older Sam, But also, jess/sam - Freeform, POV Jessica Moore, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Wincest - Freeform

My Note: Since this is Jess POV it doesn't exactly have the elements I typically desire from time travel wincest. But I love Jess in this and the wincest is blatant, with a side of SamJess.

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💚 Sincerely, Sam by FallenKy

Rating: Mature | Words: 87505 | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Summary: Sam Winchester is praying for death.

Dean's already gone after sacrificing himself to take out Amara and Sam's losing more and more of himself each day at Lady Bevell's hands. He's reached his limit. Then suddenly he finds himself in 1998 and the sole focus of a supernatural lawyer who has one very firm request; She needs Sam to cure a demon. Dad, Dean, and Bobby won't let him out of their sights and Sam has enough to juggle with the swarm of supernatural creatures who think the Boy King has come back to take his crown.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, Pre-Series, Weecest, Weechesters, Time Traveling Sam, BAMF Sam, Protective Dean Winchester, Miscommunication, Tortured Sam, Hurt Sam, Hurt/Comfort, powers!Sam, Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Underage Kissing, Bottom Sam Winchester

My Notes: TBH the only reason this is Honorable Mention is this is a WIP that hasn't been updated since 2019. But it's at 17/19 chapters and it's a really awesome story. It's a Sam-time-swap, with 15-year-old Sam in the future with s12 Dean, and s12 Sam in 1998 with 19-year-old Dean. Hella plotty.

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💚 Sam's Magic Time Closet by AmyPond45

Description: One day, Sam finds a magic closet in his room in the bunker. He uses it to travel back in time to fix mistakes he made in the past, to check on his brother, and to bring home other versions of himself and Dean. It's mostly complete, but there are always room for more storylines with this kind of trope, so.

My Note: I haven't read these yet, but they look fun. There's a mix of who is older and younger in each work.

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💚 Pray Unto The Splinters by weeping00willow

Rating: Explicit | Words: 31861 | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage

Summary: Still on the trail of Pestilence and running from both the Devil and Heaven's Host, Sam gets transported 15 years back in time and sucked into a case that seems to hold more than meets the eye.

Additional Tags: Time Travel, First Time, older!Sam/younger!Dean, Case Fic

My Note: I haven't read this yet but it sounds good. Case fic ftw!

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[timey wimey wincest pt 1: older!dean/younger!sam]

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Art and Drabble requests are Open!

Anonymous asks always welcome!

Acceptable Characters:

Reader—male or female, LGBT+, Chronic Illness, Mental Health, Winchester sibling or nibling, supernatural being, MoL Legacy, etc. (Just ask)

Beau Arlen (Blue Sky)

Alec (Dark Angel)

Soldier Boy (The Boys)

Dean Winchester (No Incest)

Sam Winchester (No Incest)

John Winchester (good parent, yes! No incest)

Mary Winchester (good parent, hunter, yes! No incest)

Castiel/Jimmy Novak (Wings, yes! True form, yes! Unrelated, yes! No Twincest)

Charlie Bradbury

Gilda (Fairie)

Dorothy Baum

Billie (Reaper, yes! Death, yes!)

Death (YES!)

Lucifer/Nick (Wings, yes!)

Gabriel (Wings,yes!)

Balthazar (Wings, yes!)

Bobby Singer

Rufus Turner

Jody Mills, Sheriff

Donna Hanscum, Sheriff

Claire Novak

Kaia Novak

Annie/Alex

Patience Turner

The Barnes Twins (no incest)

Missouri Moseley

Rowena MacLeod (Witchy, yes!)

Crowley/Fergus MacLeod (Demon form, yes!)

Ask me, otherwise

Art

Note: I have not drawn much NSFW and/or tf (transformation, e.g. shapeshifting) but I am trying to get the hang of it.

Pairing: Any, except incest, weecest, wincest, twincest, or weirdcest.

Scene/Situation: Any. Kid ok too. Please realize that detailed scenes and/or backgrounds, require more time. Thank you! Also, reminders or inquiries of asks already sent in are always welcome.

Drabbles/Ficlet

**Minimum word count is 100 words.**

Pairings: I do NOT write incest, weirdcest, wincest, or twincest. I am proship. I don’t ship or kink shame.

Kinks: Regarding NSFW, I am happy to write whatever kink and/or smut you’d like, just realize I don’t know and/or have experienced all the different types of kinks;

Kink Hard Limits: These are no, I won’t write.

vore except for blood drinking (e.g. vampire),

water sports (pee)

feces (poo)

Thank you for understanding and your patience.

Genre/Tags: Any, kid fic good too! except domestic violence, rape, torture unless in minimal referencing

[jadensdixon]

Sam, afraid of Dean after the first time he saw Dean kill a regular human -- No possession, no nothing, and yet he still put a bullet in the old bastard's head.

He stood there, frightened beyond reason, hands shaking. He was still a kid, voice still high and sweet.

Dean's eyes were dark, fixated on his victim. A spark had lit within his soul, a black spark, eating at every bit of light his youth had left him with.

"Dean...?" Sam asks quietly, so quietly Dean almost doesn't hear him.

Dean's head is quick to snap towards Sam's soft voice.

"Sam." Dean affirms.

"What- uhm, what just happened?" Sam's playing with his own fingers, twiddling them and cracking joints and Dean takes notice, a slight rush running through him. He knows he scared Sam.

"Nothing." And Dean is suddenly mere inches away from Sam, breath shaking the kid's eyelashes. Sam keeps his gaze down, looking at the dirt.

"Nothing.. nothing," Dean keeps repeating it, surely only trying to convince himself now.

And then his lips are on Sam's. He could never tell you why, Hell he doesn't know for himself. But he kissed his baby brother, right then and there.

[wincestjel]

Fourth of July, 1996

in which repressed feelings come to the surface and years of pining come to a close... sort of.

inspired by the fireworks scene from dean's heaven in 5x16

sam x dean 

- weecest, first kiss, fluff with a lil hint of angst for spice 

words: 1334

read it on archive! 

***

There’s a spark in Sammy’s eyes, and Dean’s not sure he’s ever seen anything quite like it. He’s happy. Really, truly happy, and God, it makes Dean’s chest ache. What he wouldn’t give to see Sam like this all the time. Is this what life would’ve been like had they been raised like real kids? 

They weren’t, though. They weren’t raised like normal kids. Hell, there wasn’t a damn thing about their lives that came even close to normal. Whatever the fuck normal meant anyway. 

Dean’s normal… well, he knows it’s sick, twisted. It’s no life to be raised into, but it isn’t just the monster hunting that makes him different. It’s the way his whole world revolves around his brother, the way he’d give anything to keep the kid safe. He’d give his life for Sam without so much as a moment’s hesitation. 

It’s the way something in him—something he tries so goddamn hard to keep hidden, something so foul and so, so fucking wrong—twists when he sees Sammy light up. 

It’s the way he loves his brother. 

“Come on!” Dean’s pulled from his thoughts. “Let’s go!”

Dean smiles, but it’s weak. There’s a darkness behind it that he hopes, he fucking prays, Sam doesn’t pick up on. Dean’s happy, too. He’s happy seeing Sam happy, but he can’t seem to stay out of his own head. 

“Got your lighter?” Sam’s holding a box of fireworks, looking back at his brother with this look on his face. It’s the best night of his life. He’s almost too distracted to notice the way Dean lags behind, just a little. He’s almost too excited to catch the sad look behind Dean’s eyes, like there’s something more he wants to say. Almost. He doesn’t acknowledge it, though. He knows his big brother well, and if there’s one thing Dean doesn’t like to do, it’s talk about his feelings. It’s like Dean has a moment of clarity, like something passes across him and that smile on his face grows. He’s grinning, but not as wide as Sam. 

“‘Course I do. Come on.” Dean grabs a box from the trunk of the Impala as well. He follows Sam farther into the field, and watches—maybe a little too closely—as the kid gets everything set up. 

Sam notices this, too. Of course he does. He notices everything when it comes to Dean. He notices each and every girl in his revolving door, when redheads become blondes become brunettes. He notices every bottle Dean drinks, how the number grows the more time goes on. He notices the way Dean tries to bury himself in whatever he can—girls, work, and drinking seem to be the most popular—when the two of them get a little too close. 

Too close. It’s an odd thing to think about for Sam. What’s too close for some brothers isn’t close enough for him and Dean. What’s too close for most brothers is their normal. And what’s too close for the Winchester boys? Well, there’s no set answer there. Not really. Not when Dean seems to push and pull, to want everything and nothing to do with Sam all at once.

But that’s not what tonight’s about. 

Sam finishes setting up and when he walks back to his brother’s side, there’s a spring in his step like never before. His smile is almost bright enough to light up the night.

“Fire ‘em up!” Sam shouts, practically jumping up and down. And Dean obeys. 

The first few go off, and the darkness of the night fades away in favor of all sorts of colors. Sam’s not sure where Dean managed to get these, or how he managed to afford them, but he doesn’t care. How can he care when he’s watching the sky light up with so much fucking wonder in his eyes? One after the other, popping and crackling and sizzling. 

It’s quite the show, but Dean isn’t watching. There’s only one thing on his mind, and that’s Sam. Boom. Something inside him goes off, exploding in the night. Boom. He can’t look away. He can’t. He can’t stop thinking about Sam, about—

“Dad would never let us do anything like this!” Sam’s looking at Dean, now, and that light hasn’t left his eyes. “Thanks, Dean. This is great.” And they’re hugging. 

Well, Sam’s hugging. Dean takes a second to catch up, but as soon as he does, his arms are tight around his brother. He closes his eyes, face pressed against soft brown hair, and takes the deepest breath he’s ever had to. He can’t let himself get carried away. It’s not normal, it’s not right to feel like this. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, not even sure if Sam can hear it over the roaring fireworks. A little bit louder, he says, “you’re welcome, kid.”

The hug lingers, lasts a little too long before Dean starts to pull back. He can’t lose himself. Not yet. He can’t let his twisted feelings get in the way of what seems to be the best fucking night of Sam’s life. But Sam stops him. He’s got his fingers wrapped around Dean’s wrists, and he’s looking up at him like…

No. Dean can’t think like that. There isn’t a chance in hell Sammy feels the way he does. Sam’s good. He’s not like Dean. He’ll never be like Dean. 

Sam doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t know what he wants to say, or what he could say. It feels like there’s so much hanging in the air between them. But he has a hunch; a gut feeling. He sees the way Dean looks at him when he thinks Sam isn’t paying attention, and he picks up on all the little tiny hints Dean doesn’t even know he drops. He has a gut feeling. 

And that’s when it happens. That’s when all of Sam’s and Dean’s forever-repressed feelings come to the surface. That’s when years of pain and confusion and frustration and guilt are all worth it. That’s when the fireworks cease, but the sparks still fly.

That’s when they kiss.

Sam’s the one who initiates it, going against every goddamn stereotype the two fit into. But Dean reciprocates. God, does he reciprocate. The night is perfect. It’s a fucking dream.

It lasts too long, but not long enough. When they separate, this time, there’s something in Dean’s eyes that Sam’s never seen before. It’s like, for the first time in Dean’s life as a hunter, the weight of the world falls away from his shoulders. When they pull away, they both stand there a moment. Watching, waiting for the next move. What does this mean for them? Nothing’s ever going to be the same—they both know that. 

Sam’s naïve, though. He thinks it’s going to be perfect from here on out. He’s already dreaming up scenarios, fantasizing about running away from their dad and this life and just… be. 

But Dean knows how the world works. He’s older, he’s got more experience than Sammy. He knows there’s no hope for two brothers from a broken home. He knows the best way to keep Sam safe is to keep him at a distance. It won’t happen again. It can’t happen again. He loves his brother more than anything, and Dean knows that loving Sam means not letting Sam love him. Not like this.

He doesn’t mention it, though. Not tonight. Not when Sam’s so fucking happy. Not when everything is perfect and nothing is wrong. 

Dean takes Sam’s hand in his, their eye contact never breaking. He’s happy, too. God, is he happy. There’s a silent agreement as he slips his lighter between his brother’s fingers, as he pulls away and nods. Sam smiles more, if that’s even possible, and he runs over to their stash. 

“Fire in the hole!” he calls out, turns and runs back towards Dean. His heart is pounding, and he’s sure that if heaven really does exist, this is what it’s like. 

[wincestplease]

Hi, could you do one where Sam make himself pretty to go to homecoming (I think that the word) but no one ask him to dance and he has self esteem issues but then big brother Dean is here and dance with him ?? Not really original so I get if you don't want to do it. Thanks anyway !

Sam pressed his back against the wall of the gymnasium, feeling more stupid than he had in a long, long time. 

He, Sam Winchester, getting a fun, normal high school experience? He should have known he doesn’t get to do things like this. 

He’d taken a lot of care, getting ready–checked his appearance twice in the mirror before he left, adjusting his thrifted dress shirt until it fell just right…but he shouldn’t have even come. Homecoming was for normal kids, with normal lives, and as much as Sam wanted to be just like them, he wasn’t. He was just the weird drifter, who’d floated into town a week ago and couldn’t fit in with the rest of the school. 

The fourth slow song of the evening comes on, the lights dimming slightly as everyone on the dance floor shyly pairs up to sway to the music. 

Sam doesn’t bother looking around this time, not like the other three times where he let his heart race in futile hope, thinking maybe someone would ask him to dance. But no one did, and he should have known they wouldn’t. 

Turning for the door to head home and wallow in self-pity, Sam hesitates when he sees an all too familiar figure hovering nervously by the entrance. 

It was Dean, wearing ripped jeans and what Sam thinks is one of dad’s old dress shirts, untucked, with a pair of muddy combat boots. He looks incredibly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot and scanning the crowd. When he and Sam lock eyes, he heads for Sam’s direction. 

“De?” Sam gapes, “What are you doing here?” 

Dean offers Sam a crooked smile, and Sam’s heart melts just a little. “You thought I was gonna miss out on your first high school dance? No way, Sammy.” 

“It’s lame,” Sam shrugs, staring down at the floor. “No one wants to dance with me, let’s just go home.” Sam heads for the door, but Dean wraps an arm around his waist, tugging him in close.

“I want to dance with you,” Dean admits, his voice low in Sam’s ear. “Sammy, may I have this dance?” 

Sam swallows, turning pink up to his ears. “Uh,” He looked around nervously. no one was paying them any attention, too lost in their own world. “O-Okay,” he stammers.

Dean wraps Sam up in his arms, and they begin a slow shuffle, a little off-beat but still more perfect than Sam could have ever imagined. Dean smelled like shampoo and gun powder, and Sam felt safe and cared for in his arms. 

“Thank you,” Sam murmurs into Dean’s neck. 

In response, Dean just barely, barely presses his lips into Sam’s hair. 

But it happened, Sam felt it, a rush of warmth all the way down to his toes. 

And so, their careful dance, their almost-something-more, continued deep into the night under the watchful eye of the spinning disco ball. 

[thebrotherswholoved]

watch over sammy

When Sam was a baby, John would get pissed because he wouldn’t sleep in the bassinet he bought from a garage sale for a little more than five bucks; no, little Sammy with his cherub cheeks and big eyes would only fall asleep in his big brother’s arms. John’s were too brutish, too rough...too lacking of gentleness and that quality that could only be described as utterly Mary. So, Dean hardly ever let go of his brother and when he did, those green eyes hardly blinked because even though he was a child himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad would happen if his eyelids so much as fluttered closed for a second while supposed to be focused on Sammy.

Behind Dean’s boyhood glaze loomed the shadow of doubt and grownup reason ingrained in him by a father so focused on revenge he couldn’t see that his fist was beating its way through his eldest son’s skull. This voice whispered thoughts into his baby ears that Sam would be picked apart by vultures or washed away by an invisible river or mowed down by a speeding car despite being miles from the nearest busy road, and it spooked him so badly that he refused to let his eyes wander from the now-toddling, chubby-cheeked tot.

The nights were the hardest. John would try to pry his sleeping son from the child’s desperate and pleading big brother so he could sleep off the deprivation of rest that was undoubtedly causing this...paranoia. But Dean wouldn’t dare shut his eyes, too petrified of the sandman coming to drown him in the hourglass and allow some boogeyman to catch him off guard, and instead snuck back to little Sammy’s crib once the warden had tried to seal the kid’s fate to watch over him better than any damned angel figurine made of cheap porcelain could.

Eventually, Dean had to fall asleep. The first time it happened, the trio was in the car heading somewhere—even John didn’t quite know—and Dean passed out, slumped against Sam’s car seat and hand still in his lap. The dark and unhealthily purple shadows under the boy’s eyes made him look so much older than his sweet age of six, and John felt relieved when he looked into the back seat in his rear view mirror and saw that nature had done what he had failed to do: tape the torn pages back into Dean’s calendar. If only the sandy blond’s well-deserved nap didn’t end in a piercing scream four hours later that made John swerve, narrowly avoiding hitting a small shrub. The first thing the boy did was start crying followed by him desperately trying to wake up Sam to make sure his mistake didn’t cost the baby his life.

The circles under Dean’s eyes only deepened in hue and in intensity, the exhaustion crescendoing as the years dragged on. Had John cared enough to take his kid to the doctor, he’d probably have been diagnosed with an insomnia of sorts—but all the gruff widower cared about were the callouses roughening his palms and the wide, open, and dangerous road ahead of him. He tried everything: a small dose of Benadryl with their grub, some knockoff NyQuil in his 99¢ gas station apple juice, and hell, he even considered giving the kid a small whack upside the head once or twice to force him to pass out. What worked ended up causing Dean emotional agony as soon as he woke up and started screaming for his little brother, and what didn’t work almost seemed like it was for the best.

Dean’s devotion to his baby brother’s safety maimed him. It cheated him, lied to him, and almost killed him on several occasions. But no matter how much he suffered at the hands of a cruel system of checks and balances trying to steal the infant he dragged from the inferno from his scrawny arms, he can’t find it in him to care. Not when he sees just how happy the kid grew up to be on the good days and how strong he became when things could be better.

He sleeps now, whiskey being his sleep aid and the Die Hard movies his lullaby, but he wakes up every time he hears his not-so-little brother scream his name in his sleep, a desperate cry echoing from inside his nightmares. Instinct tells him to place a hand on his chiselled, heaving chest until his breathing evens out and sing some boyish variation of a Seger song to turn his bad dreams good again, so that’s what he does. For the rest of the night, his duty is to watch over Sammy and protect him from a new evil: the ones inside their minds.

And when he inevitably falls asleep next to his brother atop the comforter, hand still on his chest? Dean’s dreams are good then, because he knows that there’s strength in numbers and that with Sammy by his side, nothing is impossible. Even though he gives his big brother the best bitch face he can muster every time they wake up almost drooling on each other, Sam is grateful for Dean and his canine-like devotion to him. Though he couldn’t possibly know how many exhausted tears were shed and soaked up by the fabric of his baby onesies when he was young, he can understand that in order to make Dean happy, he has to take care of himself. That’s all Dean has ever wanted.

Sam has always had an angel watching over him, but the guardian never had wings to begin with. He wore a way-too-big, hand-me-down flannel shirt, had choppy dirty blond hair, and his under eyes were as dark as the unseen side of the moon. The boy with the demon blood’s guardian angel was, is, and always will be named Dean Winchester.

[motelsnleatherseats]

Dean hardly had a moment to reflect on what he did with his brother, because as soon as he had caved to Sam's advances, the kid was practically permanently attached at the hip. If he had been bad before, he was now a certified stage 5 clinger. What used to be two occupied beds was now just one, and Sam had all but forgotten what furniture was because Dean's lap was just that much more inviting.

The hardest part about it was keeping his little brother at arm's length when they were out in public. Sam didn't seem to care, but Dean was all too aware of the raised eyebrows it garnered them when Sam would get handsy. Dean would shoot him warning looks and have to firmly grip his wrist to stop his eager hands, but Sam appeared to take it as a challenge.

Dean climbed into the Impala and closed the door with a sigh, and not but two seconds later felt his little brother's hand on his thigh.

"Sammy," Dean spoke, once again putting a stop by finding the younger's wrist, gripping it lightly. "Look, I know you're.. eager and excited about what we're doing now, but you really gotta tone it down when we're out and about."

Sam's expression soured briefly, something between petulant and pouty.

"Why? No one knows we're brothers," he replied, and Dean exhaled something akin to frustration.

"I know, but I think it's pretty obvious. That's not even what I'm really worried about, you have to remember that you're only 15. It's gonna make me look like some kind of pervert freak into young boys." Plus he didn't want anyone thinking he was gay, not that there was anything wrong with being gay, he just wasn't. Was he? No, he didn't like men, never even thought of checking them out. Sam was the only exception. "Just.. cool it a little, yeah? For me?"

"Okay.."

Sam's reluctant agreeance had Dean feeling a pang of guilt, never truly finding it right to deny his brother anything, but if they wanted this to continue, they'd have to play it safe.

The drive back to the motel was quiet, and Sam had even put some distance between them, crowded closer to the passenger door with his gaze out the window like he was giving Dean the cold shoulder. Dean couldn't bring himself to say anything else, but worry was starting to build. He'd glance over at him in silent pleas to not be mad at him, each lingering moment inciting further culpability.

When they parked, Sam was the first to get out and head into the room, uncharacteristically leaving Dean to follow instead of waiting for him at the door. He was upset, that much was obvious, and the elder now had to wrack his brain to remedy this. This was all his fault, he should have known that crossing that line would only bring trouble. Sam would inevitably end up hurt by his words or actions, because why wouldn't he? Dean allowed him to believe that what they were doing was okay, and he knew deep down that it wasn't. It was illegal. It was immoral. It was selfish.

"Sammy," Dean spoke, his voice already apologetic as he closed the door behind him. Sam had placed himself on the bed he had abandoned in favor of sleeping with Dean, his back to him as he faced the wall. "C'mon, man. I was just saying we need to be careful, that's all." Nothing. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, debating on leaving it alone or trying to get something out of Sam. A notion of understanding, a validation that his concern was heard. But Sam was stubborn and Dean swore he made a valid point, so he heaved a defeated sigh and shouldered off his jacket, setting it over the back of a chair at the table in the kitchenette before he plopped himself on the couch and put on the television for something else to focus on.

A couple of hours must have passed before Sam had finally moved from his spot on the bed, standing now at the edge of the couch, still quiet. Dean glanced up when he caught him in his peripherals, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Still mad at me?" he asked, voice soft as his thighs fell apart some, a hand patting his lap in invitation. Sam accepted, moving to settle himself against his big brother, both legs draped over one side before Dean had cradled him like he was comforting a child.

"It just hurt my feelings," Sam admitted and Dean gave a nod of understanding. He could see why it might feel like some type of rejection, and that was the last thing he wanted Sam to feel.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean replied, leaning in to press a kiss to the other's forehead, one hand moving to caress along his side in a soothing manner, settling at his hip. "Can I make it up to you?" He offered, his gaze soft, searching over his little brother's fair features.

"How?" Sam took advantage of his brother's tenderness, arming himself with one of his patented puppy-dog looks, lips in the most tempting of pouts.

Dean lifted his hand up, smoothing his thumb over his cheek bone before his fingers had carded through his hair, cupping the side of his head to draw him in so their lips could meet for a kiss. Sam's hand came up to find respite on the side of Dean's neck, his eyes fluttering shut as they indulged in the warmth and sweetness of each other's mouths. It was hard for Dean to consider any of this as wrong when it felt this good to give Sammy something that no one else could. No one else understood just how delicate his little brother, how much care he truly needed to keep him from ripping apart at the seams.

Dean blindly reached for the television remote and managed to change the channel before finding the power button and turning it off, leaving the only sound in the room the wet sounds of their kiss as they deepened it, Sammy's sweet mewls being muffled against his lips. He angled them so he could lie Sam down against the couch and press his weight into him, his brother's arms coming up and around his neck while his own moved down his slender form, gliding up and under his shirt to follow the bumps of ribs, fingertips pressing possessively into the skin. Sam moaned and Dean drank it down like a sweet nectar, pulling back from the kiss with a low hum of appreciation before he relocated his mouth to younger's throat.

"Dean," Sam sighed, his kiss-swollen lips parted to let out heavier breaths and needy sounds, one hand in Dean's hair at the nape of his neck while the other pulled at the material of the back of his shirt.

"Wanna make you feel good, Sammy," Dean rumbled against his brother's neck, open-mouthed and heated kisses being laid with gentle scrapes of teeth. His hands pushed his shirt up enough to expose the flesh of his abdomen and chest before they found their way to Sam's pants, undoing the button and loosening the material so it could easily slip down his hips. He lifted his head, emerald gaze meeting this brother's darkened one before he guided the hem of his shirt to his lips, Sam's teeth catching it to hold it in place before Dean's lips had descended on him again.

He trailed a warm and wet path down his chest and stomach before he nipped at his hip bone while he worked his little brother's pants down and off.

"You too," Sam murmured as he released his hold on his shirt, wanting equal access to Dean's form.

"I will, baby, don't worry. Gotta take care of you first," Dean promised, positioning himself lower and between his thighs after guiding them apart. Sam's breath hitched as Dean's mouth graced the inside of his thigh, kissing the warm, sensitive flesh as he inched closer to his baby brother's hole. He had eaten pussy plenty of times before, this couldn't be much different, and he was eager to see just want kind of noises he could draw out of the younger.

His hands splayed against his thighs, pushing them open and back some for better access before he gazed at his pretty little hairless pucker, already clenched in anticipation. The first caress was given, and much to Dean's delight, Sam's whole body reacted with a shudder and a whine that made his own cock throb. He laid his tongue flat over the pink flesh, coating it in saliva with slow and languid motions, getting him good and wet before applying previously learned techniques. He circled the tight ring of muscles, slurping tenderly and enclosing his lips around the flesh, feeling Sam's thighs tremble as he continued his efforts, those hushed and needy sounds like music to his ears.

"De-dean.. oh fuck, please.." Sam pleaded, for what exactly, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he couldn't get enough of the wet sensation between his thighs, making his insides squirm with lust. His cock laid hard against his abdomen and he moved one hand down to stroke himself, the head already stick with pre-cum as Dean continued to eat him out. The wet sounds grew louder as the saliva built up, and Dean was quick to gather and swallow before he pushed his slick muscle into the boy's hole, earning himself a long-drawn out whine as Sam pushed his hips into the sensation.

Dean found Sam's unique taste to be pleasant, and the clenching around his tongue only made him wonder exactly what it would feel like to be buried in his little brother's tight heat, but that would have to be something he only fantasized about for the time being. Though they had crossed that physical and intimate boundary with abandon, doing the actual deed felt too heavy for him, at least for now. There was something too permanent about that action, something too precious to take from Sam just yet if he ever decided to change his mind.

As he tongue fucked his hole, Dean moved one of his hands down to undo his own pants, freeing his cock from the tight confines, throbbing now as he palmed himself while getting Sammy off. It didn't take much longer before Sam was a writhing, moaning mess under Dean's ministrations, hardly needing to touch himself to achieve orgasm, the slick muscle licking him open getting him there quicker than expected. He came with a cry of his brother's name, his own seed painting his abdomen, even shooting up his chest and the bunched up shirt at his collar bones.

Dean slowly removed his tongue from Sam's quivering hole, watching it clench around nothing, slick with saliva. He admired his handy work before he slid his hands along the backs of his thighs again.

"You're so pretty when you cum, Sammy," Dean praised, voice low and lusty as he looked at the blissed out mess his little brother was, panting and trembling. He straightened himself up to his knees, pulling his shirt off and shove his pants down his thighs to be exposed enough for his next move. He gathered Sam's thighs and brought his legs up his chest, pressing them together before he rutted his cock against the smooth skin.

"Dean, please," another soft begging. "Fuck me? I need you so bad," Sam whined, thinking the position he was being put in was so Dean could finally claim him from the inside.

"Not yet, baby, we'll get there," he replied, easing his hips back before he pushed forward, letting his hot and heavy arousal push between Sammy's thighs. Sam gave another whine, though this one was due to frustration, hoping Dean would just cave. But as he watched, he could see the head of his brother's cock thrusting between tightly pressed skin, the sight making his skin flush with heat. It was so erotic, so dirty in the best way.

Dean fucked Sam's thighs, grunts and groans falling from his lips as he kept his gaze locked on his brother's features, watching them as his form bounced a little from the force he was using to get himself off with Sam's body. He could imagine that they were fucking, the way he was laid out for him like that, his features screwed up in lustful pleasure, his tummy and chest painted with cum, the sound of skin smacking against skin pairing deliciously with their moans... it was almost like the real thing.

"Fuck, Dean.. wish you were in me.. don't you want to breed your little brother?" Sam pushed, hoping any of Dean's resolve would eventually fade and he'd give in like he wanted him to. It worked against him though, because Dean's cock gave a painful throb at his choice of words. How did Sammy know exactly what to say to drive him wild? What 15 year old talks about breeding or uses little brother as dirty talk?

"Sammy, god," he groaned, and a few more thrust of hips had him giving a choked sound before he came hard, making a hot, sticky mess between his thighs, his seed painting over his stomach as well. He gave a few follow up thrusts, making sure his balls were thoroughly emptied before he felt himself soften some, slipping free of the hold of Sam's thighs with a quiet hiss. He let Sam's legs fall back, his own form leaning down and over his little brother, taking a moment to catch his breath before he cupped his face again, drawing his thumb over his bottom lip that was gifted with a kiss afterward.

"Where did you learn to talk like that?" Dean asked, genuinely curious, but also always surprised by Sam's antics. The once bookish, almost shy teen he knew suddenly a master of seduction. Sam's cheeks warmed, his gaze averting for a moment.

"Porn," Sam admitted, a coy smile on his lips as he met Dean's gaze again, and Dean gave an incredulous chuckle, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I've never once seen you even look at a skin mag, what kind of porn are you watching?" Sam groaned in an embarrassed fashion, pushing playfully at Dean's shoulder before he decided against that action, instead gripping him there and tugging him down so he could feel the weight against him.

"I stumbled across the whole fake step-sibling thing.. couldn't stop thinking of you," he replied, his eyes looking expectantly at Dean, wondering if he'd be judged for it. But Dean only looked at him in amazement, a wry smile on his lips.

"You little pervert," he teased and Sam groaned again.

"Says you, who just ate me out and fucked my thighs."

"Touché."

Dean leaned more of his weight against Sammy, leaning in to kiss his lips, glad that after their little tiff earlier that day that he had earned Sam's good graces once more.

"Dean," Sam murmured against his lips, arms curling around his neck. "Thank you."

↳ part 1

[klowhispers]

the two of us against the world

'if i die, what would you do?'

dean, who's cleaning the guns, sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, stops what he's doing and looks up. sam is on the bed they share, playing with the knife dad gave him a few towns ago.

'you won't die sammy, the hell are you talking about?'

sam rolls his eyes, put the knife on the bedside table and sit crosslegs on the mastress. then he adds: 'yeah but what if i do? what would you do?'

sam stares into his eyes, into his soul and dean answers: 'i'll bring you back.'

'how?'

'i don't know. i'll find a way.'

'and if you can't?'

'i'll join you.'

sam gets up, and walk slowly toward dean, and dean can't help himself but think about the way sam walk, with so much grace and power, like a pretator, yet so young, and he shivers. sam's standing right in front of him, so close that he can feels sam's breath on his face.

sam sits on his lap, arms around his neck, and dean put his hands on his waist.

'the two of us against the world, right? whatever happens?'

'whatever happens, sammy.'

sam smiles and there's a flash of gold in his eyes, but before dean can think of anything, sam kisses him and he forgets everything.

[nevergettingoverwincest]

voyeurism ficlet

The shower was running in the room next door. The motel rooms were mirror images of one another, bathrooms backing up to one another, water rushing through the same creaking plumbing as John washed up at the sink. The boys were big enough now that they always got two rooms when they could afford it; two boys their age shouldn’t have to share a queen bed, and John ignored the darkest voices in his head saying that leaving the two of them alone together just meant he didn’t have to ignore the lingering glances and the smell of sex.

Something thumped against the other side of the wall. John turned the water off at the sink, wiped his hands and face on the limp towel on the rack, and glanced in the direction of the tub, the wall, and the room on the other side of it. Just the sound of running water. Some hunter’s suspicion was raising the hairs on the back of his neck, and against his better judgement he stepped into the dry tub on his side to listen more closely. Another thud, and then Dean swore, audible even over the falling water and creaking pipes.

John almost put it down to a banged elbow, turning to go, when he heard Sam say, “Careful.”

There was no reason that his two teenage boys should be in the shower together.

“Careful your face,” Dean said, and Sam shot back, “Careful your ass,” and there was the unmistakable sound of someone getting smacked on wet skin with an open palm. There was another thump and Dean growled. Sam responded with a high, breathy noise almost lost in the water, and John felt a feverish hot-cold flush rush through his own body.

Then there was nothing audible for a long time. Bare feet cold against the chill ceramic of the tub, John sank down to a sitting position, ears straining. And then Dean said in a choked voice, “Oh fuck. Fuck yes.”

“Yes,” Sam repeated, “Oh yes, just like that, don’t move.”

The bathroom lights were too bright, haloed with hazy purple rings. John could feel his own pulse pounding in his neck and in his femoral artery, hot between his legs. His cock was growing, plumping up against the front of his jeans. Jesus, he wished he were more drunk than buzzed. Three beers at the bar before coming back to the room now seemed three too few. Three beers was not enough of an excuse for what he did next, but the thumping against the wall had taken on a rhythmic quality and he could hear one of the boys moaning.

Sliding a hand inside his jeans, John cupped his thickening cock and bit back a groan. On the other side of the wall, Sam was panting, “Oh, oh, oh, christ, Dean, oh god.”

John bit his lip as his dick twitched against his palm, hardening further. He imagined Dean up behind Sam’s skinny frame - the two of them were the same height now but Dean still had the muscle to shove his brother around, push him against the tile wall. Sam was a talker, which was not something any father should know about his son. “That’s good, you feel so fucking good Dean.”

Toes flexing against the tub, John rubbed a thumb over the head of his cock, beginning to leak. There was a sick, vertigo-swirl in his stomach but it just made his dick harder.

Sam said, “I’m gonna, Dean I can’t take it, I’m gonna come,” and then Dean growled, so low John almost didn’t hear over the rushing water, “Come in my ass, Sammy.”

John’s eyes flew wide, balls clenching, and he was shooting into his fist before he had fully reversed his mental picture. Dean, up against the tiles, soft mouth open, bow legs spread, hard teenage dick bobbing between his thighs as his brother ploughed him. John’s cock throbbed against his palm, coating the inside of his boxers with come, dampening his jeans, coming until his balls ached with each pulse. He arched so hard against the cool porcelain that he knew his spine would hurt later, but momentarily endorphins washed away all discomfort, all shame.

In the bathroom on the other side of the wall, the shower turned off with a thunk of pipes, and a sudden ringing silence descended. In it, he heard one of his boys laugh.

When eventually he managed to stand on shaky legs and strip himself out of his damp, sticky jeans to clean up, all the hot water was gone, goddammit.

[writinginthesecrettrees]

oooh, what do you think Dean's reaction would be when he comes home to Sammy in long, pretty thigh highs and Dean's hoodie wrapped around him, with his legs spread apart moaning his big brother's name? ❤️

Depends on if this is (just barely) pre-wincest or an established relationship. Because if it's before anything happened, I have to think that Sammy's been trying to get Dean to break and cross the line with him for ages, and this is gonna be the proverbial straw. Dean's control snaps and he's on Sam before Sam even realizes he's in the room, fits perfectly between those pretty spread legs and he's obsessed with the feel where the stockings stop and Sam's bare thighs are revealed. Maybe even manages to tear his mouth away from Sam's long enough to suck and bite pretty rings of bruises for garters, and Sam's squirming under him making the sweetest sounds and that's enough for him to forget his guilt just long enough to savor Sam's virginity as he takes it.

And if it's established wincest... "Damn, Sam. Getting started without me?"

And Sam lets his head tip over so he can look at Dean, doesn't stop thrusting his fingers into himself as he pants out "Got tired of waiting. You gonna get over here, or do I have to finish myself?"

And Dean growls at that, strips in the two steps to the bed and shows Sam just why he's irreplaceable.

[venhedish]

ficlet request for wincest: giving presents! take it wherever you like ✨

Here's a little Christmas moment for you. I dunno what possessed me to write this in August, but sometimes it just be that way, I guess. 🤷‍♂️ "At least you didn't steal from a little girl this time," Sam says, holding up a 3XL t-shirt with a cherry red big rig printed across the front, the words 'American by birth, trucker by choice' written over the wings of a giant bald eagle underneath. He frowns, looking down at his skinny chest. "Might be just a little big on me, though." Dean is watching Sam hold the tent's worth of fabric over his shoulders with a grin on his face. "It was the only size they had, Sammy." He nudges his booted foot against Sam's bare ankle where they sit next to each other on the scratchy polyester motel duvet. "The way you're always goin' on about girl crap, I thought maybe you'd appreciate a nice dress."

Sam rolls his eyes and shoves hard against Dean's shoulder. Then he slips the shirt over his head—cheap plastic tag still dangling from one armpit—and when his face pokes out of the collar, he's practically swimming in it; the long sleeves of his thermal are rolled up around his elbows, and Dean can barely see them anymore. Even if his little brother grows another two feet and puts on a hundred more pounds before he's done with this growth spurt, he'll still be too scrawny to fill out this particular cotton-poly-blend monstrosity. "Looks good on you," Dean says anyway, and he means it. He reaches out and tucks an errant curl behind Sam's ear. Sam's cheeks go pink and he ducks his head, swaying into Dean's shoulder affectionately. "You know I hate this, right?" He looks back up at Dean and his eyes are narrowed, fox-like. He's got his bottom lip sucked right up between his front teeth. Dean grins. "Yeah, Sammy," he says, "and that's exactly why you love it."

Sam rolls his eyes again and doesn't answer, but Dean knows he's right. Then Sam is suddenly twisting away and reaching for the drawer of the bedside table. He comes back with a thick paper envelope clutched between his fingers. He thrusts it at Dean's chest, pink all the way up to his ears now. "Here," he says to the bedspread. "Merry Christmas."

Dean opens the envelope carefully, and a splay of glossy photos spills out into his palm. He holds them in the bright shaft of morning light that pierces through the dimness of their chilly room; it's hot in Mississippi, but he cranked the AC as soon as he got up just to pretend they were somewhere white, somewhere with trees covered in sparkling lights and garlands of tinsel. He shivers now, but it's not from the cold. "When—?" he asks, eyes glued to the pictures in front of him.

Sam is stiff by his side, fingers fidgeting in his lap, tangling in the cotton of the stupid trucker shirt. "You remember I got invited to that birthday party in Tulsa?" he asks, voice soft. "They gave out disposable cameras as party favors, and I just ... didn't think there was much else worth taking pictures of."

In every photo, Dean sees himself: sitting in a booth at a diner; behind the wheel of the Impala; cleaning his guns at some long-forgotten motel table; and in each of them, he's blurry – a little out of focus in the distance. It's Sam's hand in the foreground that's sharp and clear, reaching in from out-of-frame and holding a note on a scrap of paper that becomes progressively more crumpled and folded in each subsequent image. In Sam's slanting, precise handwriting, it reads, "I don't know how to say it, but I love you."

Dean realizes that he's holding his breath as he watches months and months of their lives unfold before him in dozens of stolen moments. Sam stands in the mirror of a tiny bathroom with the door flung wide open; he's holding the note, and Dean sees himself sleeping on the double bed visible in the reflection. The words are barely legible behind the blaze of a burning grave, Dean silhouetted against its heat in the dark of the cemetery.

He'd never noticed Sam with a camera – not once. He swallows and forces himself to blink. Dean slides the last picture out from all the rest, and his heart skips.

This one is different. Framed in the warm orange light of early morning, the photo is of him—up close this time—face soft and placid in sleep as he lays on his side against wrinkled white sheets. The note is on the pillow in front of his face, and just on the other side is Sam. His eyes are wide open, and he's staring at Dean with an unreadable expression on his face; he looks young, and happy, and afraid. There's barely six inches of space between their bodies, and Dean can almost imagine the warmth. He takes a deep, shaking breath.

"I took that one yesterday," Sam whispers, and then he's moving, reaching into the pocket of his sweats under the ridiculous folds of his new shirt, and pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. Dean's eyes finally leave the photos and flick to Sam, who can't seem to look at him. "You can have this, too, if you want it," Sam says. His hand is steady as it hovers in the air between their bodies.

They stay suspended like that for what feels like hours. Dean is shaking, afraid to move. The pictures gleam in his peripheral vision where they're balanced on his lap.

He reaches out so slowly he's not even sure he's moving at first. His hand comes up, drags through the air until his fingers settle over the paper. "I do want it," he says at last, and Sam's breath hitches.

Their eyes meet, and Sam's gaze is wild and defiant and hopeful. "Really?" he asks – like he thinks Dean is playing a joke on him.

Dean nods, just once. "Yeah, Sammy," he says. "Really." He leans in, keeps hold of the note between their trembling hands, and closes the distance.

There won't be a photo of this moment, he thinks as he kisses his brother, tender and desperate and breathless, but it doesn't matter. He knows he won't ever forget.