#winfreak drabble

[winfreak]

Torn between which I like more with pre-series/weecest Dean:

He can't ruin Sammy. He has all these feelings and wants, desperate cravings so intense that they nearly kill him, but also the duty on his shoulders to protect Sam. He can't ruin his perfect baby brother, can't taint something so pure.

OR

Sam belongs to Dean. He is rightfully Dean's to decide what to do with, to own and possess. There is no "tainting" Sam because it's not impure. He and Dean are one and what Dean wants needs is justified.

[winfreak]

Sam stands in a small gas station bathroom, her dirty white sundress hugging her curves in all the wrong places. The dress is too short for her long legs, exposing more of her skin than she's comfortable with. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sees the reflection of Dean hovering behind her.

He reaches out and brushes her hair aside, his fingers lingering on her bare shoulder. She winces, her discomfort growing as she feels his breath on her neck. It's warm outside, even warmer in the stuffy bathroom, her skin slick and sticky.

Sam tries to move away from Dean, but he wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. His touch is rough, possessive even, as he whispers in her ear.

“You know you look good in this dress, don’t you?” he says, his voice low and gravelly.

Sam sighs, resigned to let Dean do as he pleases. "I'm growing out of it. Need to get something that fits."

Dean chuckles, his grip on her waist tightening. "I don't know, I think it fits just fine," he says, his eyes roaming over her body in the mirror. "Besides, I kind of like it when your clothes are a little too tight."

Sam squirms in Dean's hold, growing more uncomfortable. She fidgets, hands tugging at the hem of her dress like that'll fix anything. "We should go, De. Dad's waiting."

Dean tightens his grip on her, his fingers digging into her skin. "Dad can wait a few more minutes," he says, his voice dark. "I'm not done with you yet."

Sam’s heart pounds in her chest as she tries to squirm free from Dean's grasp, but he's too strong. He pushes her up against the mirror between the sinks , trapping her there.

Sam whimpers, face pressed against the cold glass. It feels grimy against her skin, unclean. "Dean-"

Dean presses his body against hers, pinning her. "Shut up," he growls, his voice low and commanding.

Sam can feel his breath on the back of her neck, his fingers gripping her wrists forcefully. She tries to struggle, but it’s pointless. Dean is too strong, too stubborn. She’s trapped.

It's not the first time Dean's done this, and it most certainly won't be the last. In a way, his words rang true. From the day Dean pulled her from the fire, she belong to him. She was his to care for, his to protect, his to own.

Despite the danger, there's a small, twisted part of her that finds comfort in the possessiveness. Dean's obsession with her has always been intense and consuming, but it’s the only thing she's ever known.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against her ear.

"You’re mine," he whispers again, his voice low and dangerous. "You always have been, and you always will be. Understood?"

Sam nods, shutting her eyes when Dean lifts the back of her dress. She shivers, part desire part dread, not quite sure if it's butterflies or anxiety she's feeling in her stomach.

Dean's eyes roam over her body, his fingers tracing the exposed skin with a slow, deliberate touch. He snaps the band of her underwear where it meets thigh, tugging it. He leans in, his breath hot against her ear.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, his voice filled with a dark, impossible need. "All mine."

His touch is possessive, almost violent as he turns her around so he can look her in the face.

Sam's pliant in Dean's hold, a doll for him to pose, to play with. Her head falls back against the mirror, eyes half open.

Dean smiles at the sight of her, his eyes dark and hungry. "That's a good girl," he says, his voice low and rough.

He runs his fingers over her bare skin, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He leans in closer, his lips only a breath away from hers.

"Say it," he orders. "Say that you're mine."

Briefly, Sam thinks it sounds almost desperate, like he's trying to hold on to something slipping away. And isn't that a thought, Sam getting away.

"Yours, Dean. Always yours."

Dean’s grip on her tightens, satisfied. "That's right," he growls. "You're mine. And don’t you ever forget it."

He leans in, his lips descending on hers in a rough, possessive kiss. His hands roam over her body, claiming her as his own with each touch.

Sam whimpers, her breath being stolen from her. Then again, was it ever even hers?

There's no escape, no way to resist Dean's possessive desire. He owns her, body and soul, and she knows it. Even still, she thinks she might try.

[winfreak]

Regarding your biter prompt: Sams a biter. Little nips on Deans fingertips while he researches cases. Being overwhelmed with his feelings and just chomping on Deans forearm. Just clamping down on Deans biceps. Latching like baby -like he did when he fed from Ruby- to Deans pecs. Sam literally licking Deans wounds since he still loves the taste of blood and he likes all parts of Dean him. Same dna isn’t enough he wants their cells to merge. Dean likes being so thoroughly claimed as Sams. He needs hickeys on his thighs and throat at all times or he gets restless like Sammy’s gonna leave him again. Both brothers are each others alters they have different types of worship and love how they pray together.

Anon you freaking nailed it. Sam's need to have some part of Dean in his mouth at all times mixed with his need to claim what's his. Dean is his big brother, his. Nobody else's. He didn't belong to some trashy bar girl or random suburban mom. Sam bit circles into Dean's neck and chest and back, painting his body with purple and red indents.

[winfreak]

What’s your favourite type of wincest fic to read/write?

(Hope you don’t mind the random question!)

❤️❤️

YES! Great question. I have so many literally how do I choose.

I love a good jealous weecest fic, especially if it's Sam who makes the first move. Absolutely delicious.

I love some of the stereotypical tropes; soulmate au, sex pollen, one bed. I ESPECIALLY love fake dating. Fake dating has to be one of my favorites of all time. When they start off reserved, not wanting to push it, to eventually just giving in and it feels so natural. Too natural. OR!!! When they're pretending and it's so easy, so natural for them that when it's over they just never stop. It becomes part of their routine and they don't even really think about it until Bobby or someone close to them mentions it. The sudden shame and confusion, lots of yummy angst. Of course they figure it out in the end though.

I love season 3 fics where Dean is dying and it's all desperation and fear and declarations of love. Yes, give me heartbreak and smut.

Sam being feminized and/or exploring gender things. Mmmmmmmm! Sam is Dean's baby brother but also maybe his baby sister too? Also just Sam in a sheer lacy bralette is perfection.

Also, just fics where it's them on a case dancing around each other. They keep doing that weird push-pull thing they do, not quite normal but also not fully admitting to what they are/want. If it ends without anything REALLY happening between them (no true resolution to their relationship), I will both rip my hair out and scream from the mountains. Is it in a good or a bad way? Who's to say.

Thank you for this splendid ask, I had fun with this!!

[winfreak]

happy wincest wednesday!! send in prompts/asks/headcanons for me pls 🙏🙏🙏

[winfreak]

as your liver and lungs slide out onto the backseat of your car i can't help but think you look beautiful

i contemplate needle and thread

tenderly cradling your organs and rearranging them inside your corpse

instead i dig in

arms pressed inside your wounds

wound around your ribcage

i feel warm

dean's blood is everywhere; organs spilling, and sliding out to rest beside him. the backseat of the impala is stained and sam can't help but think even after it's replaced, the stain would still be there.

permanent reminder of his failures and all that.

he wanted to stitch dean up; put all of his guts, lungs and liver back into their usual place, but they won't stay. they keep pooling out and it makes sam think that maybe it would be better, easier, cleaner if he removes them and puts them in jars - keep them on his person so dean is always near; never far.

so he doesn't: no needle nor thread.

he thinks about that one star wars scene with luke and the tauntaun; the way han sliced the creature open to keep luke warm - keep him alive - and the way dean would so the same for him.

with no stitching, sam can dig his fingers into open wounds. dean's body is still warm and sam can't stop himself from tearing the wounds open wider so he can stick both arms into them.

it's warm and it's comforting and sam can't stop himself from falling asleep on top of his brother, arms embedded in his lifeless body.

sam's final thought is how much it feels like home.

[winfreak]

Prompt. Sam and Dean cuddling together <3

happy wincest wednesday!!

-

Sam woke up in the middle of the night shivering. He and Dean were squatting in an abandoned trailer park -- the nearest motel didn't have any free rooms (Sam couldn't believe it, a shitty small town not having any vacant rooms).

The rundown trailer home they were staying in was the nicest one in the park, even with broken windows and a rattling frame.

There was a shitty, dirty mattress and a slightly broken couch. Dean claimed the mattress before Sam could even think to want it, pulling his jacket over himself in lieu of a blanket.

Sam had managed to scrounge up an old comforter but he was still freezing. It was the middle of March and the weather hadn't quite warmed up yet, still dropping to 30 in the night.

Sam glanced over at where his brother was sleeping, watching Dean shiver in his sleep. Too tired and cold to second guess himself, he made his way over to Dean, laying down next to him.

He draped the blanket over his brother and slid against his back, the warmth of another person helping near instantly.

Dean snuffled, turning over and blinking bleary eyes at Sam. "Wha?"

Sam just shushed Dean, tangling his legs with his brother's sleepily. "Cold."

Dean just nodded in understanding, pulling Sam against his chest. It was a little awkward, considering Sam was a bit bigger than his brother, but he went nonetheless, shoving his head under Dean's chin.

He pressed his cold nose into Dean's neck, smirking when his brother flinched at the touch.

Sam's eyes slowly blinked shut as he pushed himself further into his brother. Distantly, he wondered why they didn't sleep like this every night.