#wincest prompts

[bethesammytomyde]

My writings

 This post contains all of my writings on Archive of Our Own (Ao3), so if you’re interested please don’t hesitate to read through this.

This post works as follows:

Every story I’ve written will be put right here in this post under the most prominent theme of the story (so angst or fluff etc.).

The title will be first, then if it is a one shot or a full story, then the description of the story, then the link and then perhaps some warnings. (Title (one-shot/full story) - description - link - warnings).

Every title in bold is a finished story, every title not in bold is unfinished.

Thank you for looking through this post and have fun reading!

Fluff

(All kinds of cute little fics that are just too fluffy and adorable)

Only You (One-shot) -  Sam's eighteenth birthday is coming up and Dean has planned a nice trip away for them at a very luxurious hotel room to finally have their first time together... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/35230624

Playing Pretend (Full story) -   Sam and Dean pretend to be a couple for a hunt, only nothing is what it seems. Insecurities are being brought up and fear takes hold of the brothers as they desperately try to catch the creature before it kills another couple... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41030778/chapters/102835122 - (Also has angst)

Angst

(Sadness, happy ending not guaranteed)

Run Away to Mars (One-shot) - Sam leaves for Stanford, but why can't he stop feeling homesick? - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41139873 - (Open ending, kind of a happy ending)

Dumb Bitch (One-shot) -  Dean finally joins Sam for a work party that Sam's boss is hosting. While Sam is busy getting that promotion, Dean finally notices how everyone sees him as someone that he's not. But what about Sam? What does Sam think of him? - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41440641 

Hurt/comfort

(Sadness but with fluff and a happy ending)

Alternate Universe

(where they’re not their hunting selves)

Monster Town (Full story) -  Dean, forced to retire from hunting due to a permanent injury, has moved into a tiny little town in which everything and everyone was boring. Or at least he thinks so until he meets Sam, an antique shop owner who has lived all his life in said boring little town. From then on Dean's life seems to be a little brighter. But maybe nothing in this town is as boring as it seems... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/34763395/chapters/86558317

Mister Smith (Full story) -  Dean Smith had observed the tall barista for quite some time now. Some may call it stalking, but as a businessmen Dean knew just how important it was to know who or what you were working with before striking a deal. And that was exactly what he wanted to do. He would give Sam all the money he needed for college and to pay for his apartment, and in turn all Sam had to do was make him feel good. How could Sam say no to that? - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41420907/chapters/103872840 - (Lots of kinks, angst, fluff)

Smutty

(just... sex)

Hold it (One-shot) -  Sam had to take a leak. And ‘had to’ in this case really did seriously mean had to, as in: Sam’s bladder was about to burst with how much it was filled up with. He wasn’t sure if it was actually possible for it to explode, but he felt like it wouldn’t be too long before he would find out. And for some reason Dean had chosen today to take much too long with everything he was doing... - https://archiveofourown.org/works/35781856 - (Underage, watersports)

Spank me big brother (One-shot) -  Sam could be kind of a brat. A teenage brat. But only whenever he wanted Dean to punish him because let's just be honest: who wouldn't want Dean to spank him? -https://archiveofourown.org/works/37535449

Other

The road to satisfaction (full story) - Dean finds a kink list online that he wants to explore with Sam to spice up their sex life a bit more. Sam's all in - https://archiveofourown.org/works/41464740/chapters/103984326 - (lots of kinks)

(whatever doesn’t fit in the other themes)

#wincest #weecest #wincest writing #wincest stories #wincest story #wincest prompts #weecest story #weecest stories

[tsukiyo-7]

Hearts will dream again Lungs will breathe in Wash away the sins It's where it begins Feet won't fail you now Arms won't let you down Wash away the sins It's where it begins

#wincest wednesday #fulfilling the prompt for the server i'm in #but its thursday #Under The Water by AURORA #samdean #wincest #sketch #the epic love story of sam and dean #supernatural #supernatural fanart #🐭

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

Betrayal

[Soulless Sam watching as Dean gets turned into a vampire]

bonus funky colours below

#jaydraws #supernatural fanart #sam winchester #dean winchester #soulless sam #vampire dean #supernatural #s06e05 #spn #supernatural art #spn fanart #spn art #wincest #implied cuz i drew it lmao #samdean #blood #prompt: betrayal

[preseriesdean]

You two have the most unhealthy, tangled-up, crazy thing I’ve ever seen.

for @wincestwednesdays week three: reputation

#spnedit #samdeanedit #supernatural #wincest #wincest wednesday #always you and me #there ain't no me if there ain't no you #* #ok so i had to scrap the original set i made for this prompt but #im glad tbh because i like this more lol #*fav

[horrorshow]

It was us – the blood, the sweat, the tears, man. That’s us. We’ve been doing this our whole lives.

for @wincestwednesdays prompt: blood

#spnedit #samdeanedit #corespnedit #wincest #wincest wednesday #supernatural #you and me #** #ngl i got so overwhelmed by this prompt that i imploded and now i dont have time enough anymore to make my original idea hfgksks rip #so meanwhile. have this one instead<3

[wincestwednesdays]

A WHOLE WEEK OF WEDNESDAYS:

— a five-day flash challenge for wincest creators.

this the followup to july's wincest wednesdays event! the format is different this time around, so here's an updated list of rules:

there will be one prompt for each date.

contributors can feel free to combine prompts into the same post, skip prompts they don't feel inspired by, or do each and every prompt. the world is your wincesty oyster ✨

each prompt will be open to your interpretation– there are no wrong answers.

this event accepts any contribution, including gifsets, photo edits, video edits, fanmixes, fic, meta, rec lists adhering to the prompt… anything you feel inspired to create.

no sign-ups necessary— just go ahead and post!

contributions must be new, meaning they were created for this event.

anonymous submissions are accepted! see this post for details.

every post must mention us (@wincestwednesdays) and be tagged #wincest and #wincest wednesday.

— PROMPTS:

sept. 1st: lost

sept. 2nd: begging

sept. 3rd: radio

sept. 4th: buried

sept. 5th: withdrawal

#wincest #wincestedit #corespnedit #mod promises the october event will have an even mix of spooky/angsty prompts and happy ones

[midnightsilver]

My artwork for the story written by the awesome @samanddean76 for the Spn angels and demons reverse bang 🎉

You can find the story summary details here ✨

#supernatural #spn fanart #wincest #sam winchester #dean winchester #my artwork #MidnightSilver #angel au #angel!sam #angel!dean #spn angels and demons reverse bang #prompt inspired by Jacob wrestling the angel by alexandre Leloir

[samnarc]

Young Dean showing Sam a scary movie, watching as his younger brother curls up close to him from how scared he is from the monster on the screen. Using his arm to hold him close, allowing Sam to hide his face in his side when he needs to.

How will he ever have the courage to admit that the demons and scary creatures on the TV are real?

And when the day finally DOES come where Sam finds out, Dean promises to Sam (and to himself) that no matter what he will never let anyone or anything hurt his little brother.

#weecest #wincest #soft wincest moments #i fear i may need to start writing longer prompts. #or just fics at this point

[thegoodthebadandtheart]

mewwy chwistmas 🎄

#supernatural #dean winchester #sam winchester #wincest #a #like 50% of the christmas prompts were samdean mistletoe kiss #the people have spoken

[mpregjohnwinchester]

always female sam sharing a bed with dean and while spooning, dean grinds on her in his sleep so sam pulls her underwear aside and lets dean rub up against her and oops she's getting fucked by her sleeping brother now. maybe also he wakes up right before or as he cums and keeps going but pretends he didn't wake up?

<3 thanks so much for this anon, the way this has been on my mind CONSTANTLY. i'm afraid i got so excited i didn't see the "spooning" part so it starts a little differently than your prompt but i hope this is still okay!

cw: explicit, implied past underage, consent issues

Sam's not been sleeping great. Not that she ever sleeps great, or even the much more achievable well - not with the memory of her girlfriend's melting face popping up in excruciating detail every time she closes her eyes, anyway. Not with the constant niggle of worry, no, frustration, with Dad and his unknown whereabouts - yeah, neither of these things make for ideal, eight-hour rest conditions. They're not exactly lavender oil on her pillow.

And Dean - well, Dean is the furthest thing from lavender oil. From any kind of peace at all.

Sam's lying with her back to her brother, glaring at the fuzzy dark shape of the motel room's divider. Dean's latest spell of rumbling snores show no sign of letting up any time soon, and he's hogging half of the lower portion of the comforter between his tangled legs. If Sam tries to tug some away for herself, Dean huffs indignantly the way he does when she tries to get ahold of his car keys, until Sam clicks her tongue and gives up. Even when he's not tossing and fidgeting, he's spreading his stupid body out, encroaching on what is definitely Sam's side of the bed. Burned alive girlfriends and missing fathers aside, anyone would be hard pressed to drift off while sharing a bed with a 6'2 hunter with all the sleeping prowess of a spoiled toddler.

Sam makes another fruitless tug at the comforter. Another attempt at closing her eyes. The thing is, since Dean's "death", their little flirtations with felony fraud have had to take a backseat. Money's tight. It's Spaghetti-O's for dinner tight. It's hole up in places with cockroaches in the bath tight. It's share a bed, or get cozy on the floor tight. And it fucking sucks.

Although, Sam can't help but think, something about it is weirdly nostalgic. Money was tight more often than not growing up, and when Dad went off on work for weeks at a time she was quite often stuck bunking with Dean, enduring his nocturnal antics. She feels like she's sixteen again, what with that familiar, unwashed-head smell of the pillows. What with lying awake, worrying about Dad. It's as if she never left, sometimes. As if the last four years never happened at all.

And with that nostalgia, comes Sam's muscle memory - she drives her elbow into Dean's ribs without really thinking about it as he starts getting too close to her side of the bed again. He grunts indignantly, but mercifully fucks off. He rolls onto his back. A moment of silence; then that snoring starts up again. With a vengeance, like retaliation for the elbow.

Sam sighs, loud, pointed, pissed; rustles the sheets for good measure. Grimaces into the darkness. Her mind is so loud.

The thing is, it's been months. They're no hotter on Dad's trail than they were the night Sam left California behind for good. Dad probably doesn't even want to see her, what with the way things were left four years ago; but fuck, Sam's dying to see him. Dying to - is that really how lonely she feels tonight? Or is it Dad being one of the only two people she has left, knowing it, and still not fucking showing up?

Anger creeps through her. God, now's not the time for this. No wonder you can't sleep.

She takes a breath, like Jess taught her, deep into her lungs, manage the anger; and maybe Sam does drift off for a short time, to those thoughts. Those lonely-Dad-Jess thoughts. And she must've fallen asleep, even lightly, even a little, for that firm grip around her waist to startle her back to alertness.

Her instincts sneak up on her. The spark of adrenaline, readiness for a fight - hand halfway under her pillow for her knife - until she realizes. Remembers.

Dean. Just Dean.

Dean grunts; that arm tightens around her waist, as if to tell her that it's alright. Sam relaxes a bit. Too easily.

She can feel the length of Dean's body, curled around hers like putty; the furnace-like warmth of his bare chest, the thighs half-entwined with hers. His breath hot and a little erratic on the back of her neck. His foot feels cool on her bare calve.

He's hard. Sam can feel the outline of his dick as he presses all insistent against her ass; rolls his hips, does it again. Grunts, deep, satisfied.

Sam's sex drive has been non-existent the last few months. But that grunt - Sam hasn't heard Dean make that noise in a long time.

And this is nostalgic, alright. Sam doesn't remember when it started, exactly; just that she never felt all that differently than she does tonight, when she was fifteen or so, disconnected, alone, living in a world no one else seemed to understand. Dean lived in the same world on paper, but it was different for him. Guys were afraid of him; no one messed with him. Girls dropped their panties for a smile and a few flirty words, spellbound by his wild charms.

Sam, though - people messed with Sam a lot. Boys never looked at her twice, back then. Dad - confusing, distant, absent, Dad - well, that made her feel the most alone of all. Along with Dean spending every night in the backseat of the Impala with a different bar skank, of course. Bragging about it when he got home, flushed and grinning, lipstick on his neck, perfume on his shirt. God, Sam wanted to kill those girls. She wanted to kneel on their chests and wrap her hands around their throats and revel in the moment the light in their eyes went out. It scared her, didn't stop her thinking it.

This, though - this never scared her. What Dean did, sometimes, in the dark. In his sleep. And sure, he never did it when he was awake - but it was something. Something that felt good; something that some part of him was willing to give her, even if it wasn't conscious, even if it wasn't much. And hell, Sam didn't have much in life that made her feel good.

And - nostalgia, muscle memory - when Sam's sure Dean's grinding has dislodged his boxers, she hikes up her oversized sleep t-shirt. Tilts her hips back. Reaches between her legs to push aside her panties. She lets Dean keep grinding, those hot-grunt puffs of air on the nape of her neck; shuffles, scoots around awkwardly, until the angle is just right. Until she feels his bare, slick head right where it needs to be.

Dean, with only his downstairs brain active, is eager. He fills her up with one quick, clumsy thrust. Knocks the breath out of her.

It hurts, it's been a while, she's not quite wet enough to take all of him at once like that; but Sam can manage a little pain, feeling something, anything, is good, better than before. She bends her knee, draws her leg up to her chest to give Dean better access; he takes it. Takes ahold of her hip, moving into it as natural as he always did; and Sam turns her head, bites down on the edge of her musty pillow to keep herself quiet.

Just like old times. And, just like old times, it's - nice. Comforting, to feel full like this, touched like this. To feel the brother she once thought she'd never see again close, close like this.

It's been a while, since Sam has felt comforted, touched, close.

She huffs around the pillow. Trails a hand down her body, shudders for it; flesh hums beneath her t-shirt. Her cunt feels hot inside her panties, and her clit is slick and ready for her touch. It feels - fuck.

Her hair is in her face; her fingers grab a handful of pilled sheet as Dean starts moving faster. The clumsy, jabbing motions of his cock, giving her no choice but to open for him; his grunts and sighs, sounding a little delirious; that scorch-hot breath, that grip tight enough on her hip to smart a little. Sam feels kinda stripped of control, kinda used. And it's not a bad feeling; so she lets go. Drifts into it. Drifts into her body, the things it can do, feel. Rides it, as that burning, too-full sensation gives way to something much nicer. Something simple, the most uncomplicated pleasure there is.

Maybe it's the moan she can't hold in; or maybe Dean can feel it too. Either way, Sam can tell; sense it in her own body, the moment he wakes up.

She remembers this part; the way his satisfied grunts taper off, give way to heavy, confused breaths. The way Dean stills inside her, his body going rigid against hers. Disoriented. In a little shock, like this has never happened before, or something; and Sam's never sure if Dean would really stop, given the chance. But again, that muscle memory - she reaches around to grab his wrist. Squeeze, hard - don't you fucking dare.

Dean gets the message. And Sam remembers, now; remembers how Dean would go all lax against her, like he was trying to give the impression he was still asleep; lax, apart from his hips, the rhythm that wouldn't let up, doesn't now. She remembers how, because Dean is meant to be sleeping, he'll let Sam move that arm of his, move it until his hand is cupping her tit just right; and even though he's meant to be fucking asleep, Dean's fingers will close greedily around it anyway. Squeeze, even, as those thrusts get faster, erratic, those grunts choked like he's dying; and Sam even remembers how to angle her hips just right so she can come on Dean's cock, just in time, before Dean growls, one last jerk of his hips, before she feels his release flush inside her. She can feel the strip of his teeth against her shoulder where his mouth is open, and she presses up into it, tilts her head back, eyes closed, fleeting burst of ecstasy; and if this were something else, something different, then maybe they would kiss now. But this isn't that. God knows what it is, but it was never that.

That's okay. It needs to be okay.

They're still for a moment or two. Sam catches her breath, listens, in the dark, to Dean doing the same; waits, to see if the next part will be the way she remembers too. And it pans out pretty much the same; Dean's hand falls away from her tit. He pulls out of her almost as fast as he'd pushed in. Sam feels the ghost of his breath on the nape of her neck one last time, before Dean rolls over, away. Without a word.

Sam listens to his breaths slow down in the darkness. It's a while - really quite some time - before his snoring starts up again.

It's around this time that Sam realizes she hasn't moved. Hand still in her panties, body rooted to the mattress; Dean's come inside her, warm, sticky, a thin trail starting to leak out down her thigh. Not good; there's always a little anxiety about that. But Sam's never heard of a guy who can put on a rubber in his sleep, so it is what is is.

She licks her dry lips. It's getting light outside. Somewhere must be open for breakfast.

She slips out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Dean this time; heads for the shower. Thinks about finding coffee, about getting a few hours of research in before the day starts. Because that's all she can do, really, for now. All she can do until the world wakes up again.

#fic #prompts #my writing #fem!sam #samdean #anon #wincest

[ani-coolgirl]

Red Delicious

Red Delicious

Pairing: Wincest

Prompt: For SPN FanFic Pond's September 2023 prompt: apple picking. Read here on AO3.

Word Count: 2,113

Warnings: incest

There’s a dream Dean has and it goes like this:

The car’s parked under a tree and a checkered picnic blanket, complete with blanket and beer, is spread on the grass beside her. It’s like those dreams he used to have about Lisa, back when he still remembered what a home smelled like and it hadn’t been scrubbed away by Hell and time and reality; except it’s not Lisa there, it’s Sam, and he’s got apple pie.

“Hey,” Sam says. He’s leaning against the car, boots and flannel and all. He stoops to take a plate and cutlery out of the picnic basket to carve out a piece. He licks the knife when he’s done cutting and offers the pie to Dean. “It’s pretty good.”

In the dream, Dean knows the pie’s just not good, it’s excellent. The best pie that’s ever been made. Flaky crust, sweet filling, still warm. The works. The idea of even smelling it makes him nauseous.

“Nah,” Dean says. He’s frozen in place, wanting to go to Sam and knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to take even a single step away. “I’m good.”

Sam frowns. “You sure? It’s from that place over by the orch—”

“I’m sure,” Dean interrupts, and his palms are sweating. “I’m... yeah. It’s fine.”

His brother shrugs. “If you’re sure.” And then Sam starts eating the pie himself with gusto even though in real life his opinions on the dessert are middling at best. Dean watches Sam’s throat bob with each swallow and his lips purse as he sucks on the fork between bites and agonizes. He wants some goddamn pie. Wants it so goddamn bad. But he can’t move.

Sam finishes off his piece with a sigh. He drags his finger around the plate to gather up the escaped filling and sticks it in his mouth. “There’s plenty left,” he advises, tipping the pie tin in Dean’s direction. True to his word, Sam had only cut a modest slice. He’s barely made a dent. “You sure?”

Dean wordlessly shakes his head. Sam sighs as if disappointed then takes the fork to the remaining pie, not bothering with knife or plate. He starts to eat and Dean reaches out—

And that’s when he wakes up. Usually.

*~*

But sometimes it’s like:

The car’s missing, which doesn’t alarm him as much as it should. Sam’s sitting on the picnic blanket, but there’s no basket this time—just the pie and a case of beer. It’s a warm day, so no overshirt, or shoes. Sam’s already eating.

“Want some?” he asks. His fork goes directly into the pie tin without worry. And why should he worry? They’re brothers. They share the same genes, the same germs. They’ve shared off plates before. It’s not forbidden. “It’s pretty good.”

Dean starts to sweat.

“Nah. I’m...” He swallows, watching the tip of Sam’s tongue flick around the tines. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Sam tilts the pie tin. No clean cuts this time, just a jagged hole where Sam’s been eating his fill.

“I’m good,” Dean repeats firmly and Sam resumes eating. Slowly. Savoring. “But, uh...”

“Yeah?” Sam asks. His mouth shines with spit and apple filling and Dean can’t stop staring.

“Save me some?” Dean requests hesitantly.

“Don’t I always?” his brother replies solemnly. He gathers more pasty on his fork. “You know I don’t like eating alone.”

That’s not true. Sam doesn’t particularly care either way, Dean’s pretty sure. They usually eat together, for expediency’s sake, but it’s not a hard fast rule or anything. It’s not like Dean watches.

“Yeah,” Dean acknowledges vaguely. He can’t move. He should, but he’s not sure which direction. He’s stuck. “Sam—”

He’s met with a blinding smile. Sam doesn’t smile enough these days. “It really is good,” he says with a teasing lit at the end. “Why don’t you have some?”

So Dean reaches out—

And he wakes up. And Sam’s in the other bed snoring away, and there are takeout containers on the motel desk, and the lingering scent of Chinese food; Dean silently vows to stop at the next Mom-and-Pop diner they see and order every pie off the menu because this is getting ridiculous. It’s not like there’s a pie shortage. There’s not reason to be dreaming about it.

That’s what he usually ends up telling himself anyway.

*~*

Occasionally though, it starts like this:

No picnic blanket this time, just grass under a tree, Sam down to his shorts and an undershirt. Dean’s not sure either of them even owns shorts, at least not since they were little. Maybe they’re swim trunks? It’s impossible to tell. He’d have to get closer to look. Dean doesn’t move.

“Hey,” Sam says. There’s no blanket or beer but there is a basket, full of red apples like something out of a fairy tale. Sam’s already taken a bite out of one, cutting a slice off with a knife. Not a kitchen knife; one of their Bowie knives. Juice drips off the tip. “Want one? They’re pretty good.”

Sam takes another slice, sliding off the edge of the shining blade into his mouth. Dean watches, hypnotized. It takes a long time for an answer to come to him. “I don’t eat fruit,” he says with as much incredulity as he can muster. He doesn’t. He would never.

His brother laughs at him. “Now, that’s not true,” Sam says, half-teasing, half-scolding. “You did once.”

Dean sweats. It’s a nice day but he’s scorching, the sun too bright and accusing. “I haven’t.”

“Sure you did. I was sixteen, remember?”

Dean doesn’t remember. Won’t remember. Can’t remember, because there’s nothing to remember. Sam’s crazy. It didn’t go down like that. “No.”

His brother shrugs as if disappointed and devours another slice, slow. Savoring. Dean can’t move a muscle. “You sure? They’re from—”

“I said no!” Dean barks. His mouth snaps shut, shocked by his own vehemence but Sam’s unperturbed.

“Dean,” Sam says patiently. He’s almost down to the core but not finished yet. “Come eat with me.”

Dean shakes his head. He won’t. He wants to, wants to so bad, wants the pierce the shining skin with his teeth, let the juice spill over his tongue and down his throat, gnaw until there’s nothing but stem and seed, but keep going until he gets the last bit of flesh—

“I can’t finish them by myself, Dean,” Sam points out.

“I’m good,” Dean lies, wiping his hands on his jeans. No, not jeans. Shorts. Has he been in shorts this whole time? “No, I’m good.”

Sam chuckles warmly. “Now we both know that’s not true,” he says. “Are you sure?”

Dean’s not sure. He’s never been more unsure in his life. He can’t help but reach out—

And Sam’s eyes meet his from across the motel room. The clock radio is on the floor, shoved from its resting place. Sam blinks slowly at him but not blearily. He’s been awake for a little while, at least.

“You okay?” Sam whispers as Dean fumbles the clock back onto the nightstand.

“I’m good,” Dean whispers back even though there’s no one to disturb. His palms are sweating. “Go back to sleep.”

“You were making noises,” Sam says and even in the dark his eyes are too intense.

“Do you remember Virginia?” Dean asks the ceiling. He can’t look at Sam or else he might move. He won’t run but he won’t move either. “You were sixteen.”

“No,” Sam answers after a moment of thought.

Dean swallows hard. “There was an orchard there. You went after school every day for three weeks.”

He can hear the frown in Sam’s voice when he replies. “Why do you ask?” Sam presses.

Dean rolls over and doesn’t answer; there’s nothing to say. Eventually, the rustle of sheets from the other side of the room tells him Sam has given up, situating himself under the covers. No one brings it up the next morning. They usually don’t.

*~*

But sometimes—too often, more often than he’ll admit—it goes like this:

No cars, no blankets, no baskets. Just the tree. It’s an apple tree. Dean’s not sure how he missed that.

Sam’s nude and unashamed. Dean knows he is the same and refuses to think about it. It’s a nice day in the garden, so clothes would be superfluous.

His brother reaches up and plucks an apple from the nearest branch. He brings it to his face and inhales deeply. Dean sweats as he watches. “I haven’t had one of these since I was sixteen,” Sam sighs and Dean disputes this but doesn’t deny it. Neither of them really took a bite that time so it doesn’t really count. “You want one? They’re so good.”

Not just good. The best, the goddamn best. So mouth-wateringly delectable that he’s been dreaming about it for over a decade and he didn’t even get a taste.

Dean can’t even open his mouth to lie this time. He’s not good. He just shakes his head.

Sam takes a bite and the crunch-snap of it is like a firecracker in Dean’s ear but the appreciated moan that follows it is a gunshot to the brain. He can’t wipe the sweat from his palms but there’s nothing to wipe on—there’s only skin. Sam is miles and miles of skin. He tears into the red skin of the fruit like a carnivore and juice dribbles down his chin, down miles and miles of skin. Sam swallows and his Adam’s apple bobs from the intrusion. “So good,” Sam repeats with a groan. Dean tries so very hard to be ashamed of his nakedness.

They lock eyes. Sam holds the fruit out as he licks his lips. “I can’t finish this alone, Dean.”

Dean tries to speak but he only croaks. There’s nowhere to run. There’s nowhere to hide. He wants to take a step but he can’t. He shouldn’t. He won’t. Back then at the orchard and now he promised himself he wouldn’t.

Sam’s eyes are dark and sad. “Don’t make me eat this alone,” he whispers.

“I—” Dean tries and falters. I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want any. I’m good, I swear I’m good.

“There are so many and I want them all, Dean,” Sam continues, voice low and desperate. “I want it all, but not without you.” As if to demonstrate, he takes another bite and Dean whimpers as he watches. Squirms in place. Innocent but not guiltless. Sam sucks his fingers clean and they’re barely out of his mouth when he says, “Please?”

And how can a man be expected to say no to that?

So Dean reaches out and does not wake. He takes a step. Two. Then Sam’s got an arm wrapped around his middle, guiding the apple to his lips.

“Just one bite,” he encourages. “Just one, just a taste—”

So Dean bites down and it’s sugar and sun and sin, and Sam urges him along, runs his thumb along the corner of Dean’s mouth as he devours his prize, chasing spilled juice and he pops the digit between his lips when he finds some and sighs; and Dean’s not sweating, he’s scorching, he baking alive, he wants more, he wants every fruit, every tree, he wants to shove every forbidden piece down his throat until he chokes, and as he chews and swallows, Sam trails his fingers over miles and miles of skin, up and down, down, down—

And he wakes. Sam stands over his bed in a t-shirt and boxers, hair mused, and looking darkly thoughtful. “Apple orchard. Virginia,” he says. Dean doesn’t speak which is fine because Sam is not done. “I worked there after school for some spare change. They paid me in produce but I didn’t mind. You didn’t like me going there. You followed me once to tell me off.”

Dean shakes his head. That’s not why he went here. He Sam was finally starting to fill out and hauling around buckets of heavy fruit all day helped gently tease muscles out of lithe limbs and Dean wanted to see him on one of those ladders, straining to reach—

“You pinned me to a tree,” Sam says. “For a long time.”

Too long. Not long enough. Dean’s palms sweat but he’s calm. They’d both been so hard, like he is now. He doesn’t check if Sam is.

“You ran off.”

There’s nowhere to run now. Sam licks his lips nervously and they shine with spit. Dean’s hungry and he knows what lies before him is so goddamn good. So goddamn sweet.

“Not running now,” Dean replies roughly.

Sam stares. He wipes his hands on his boxers. He reaches out—

#supernatural #spn #wincest #spnfanficpond monthly prompt #monthly prompt #my fic

[dragonardhill]

- - (out of context) samdean 15x20

for @wincestwednesdays July challenge week 4

#wincest #wincest wednesday #wincestedit #prompt: free space #the penultimate *now kiss* #actual screen caps from the actual show #brother-loving moot swag #15.20 #myedit

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

SAVE A HORSE, RIDE A WINCHESTER🤠

Extra sketches below cut :D

Dean helping sam apply his lipstick😗 and the sam sketch plus a couple scribble deans~

(hopefully i’ll finish the lipstick one i quite like it)

#i dont have an excuse #it came to my brain #and now i give it to you #prompt: cowboys #was gonna put dean in the cow print but we all know who has the milkers between those two #jaydrawstastyart #jaydraws #sam winchester #sam winchester fanart #spn #spn fanart #supernatural #supernatural fanart #wincest #samdean #dean winchester #cowboys #cowboy

[zmediaoutlet]

happy late wincest wednesday! if you're still taking prompts, i'd love to see a take on Dean calling Sam "daddy" in bed, in a distinctly Weird About Dad kinda way

When it's been twenty minutes of slow, slow, incredibly slow sex, the kind of slipping grinding make-it-last kind of sex that Sam almost never has the patience for but when they have it he wonders why they ever do anything else -- when there's nowhere to be and no angst crawling up between them and it's just -- fuck it's good, hot without urgency, just -- feeling, in the wreck of a bed, like maybe nothing outside the bed exists, or if it does it certainly doesn't matter -- when all Sam wants is for this to last -- what kind of idiot is he that he gets Dean to talk.

"C'mon," he mumbles, up against the back of Dean's ear. His hand slips in the sweat on Dean's hip but he gets a better grip, tilts, makes the breath go out of his brother in a rush. "C'mon, tell me."

Dean's ass rolls up against him, lazy. Been so long that he's stretched, soft, the root of Sam's dick churning there, slick. Dean's head turns and Sam kisses his jaw instead, and the side of his throat. Laying full length in the bed, Dean spread under him, head pillowed on his arms -- lazy, but fuck it's hot like this, him just -- taking it as his due, drunk on it because it's been so long, knowing Sam'll make it feel good, and god does Sam want nothing more than to make it feel good -- but Dean does unfold one arm, reaches back, catches Sam's hip to keep him close, to grind in -- ah -- deeper.

"C'mon," Sam says again, coaxing, and Dean groans and says, fuck, very quiet, and then barely louder, "Feels -- god -- right there--" and Sam's nuts surge and he puts his forehead down against the back of Dean's neck, rolling his hips slow and steady, the ring of Dean's asshole this perfect slipping pressure, a soft edging that's making his spine feel like it's going to dissolve.

"Talk," Sam says, his lips blurring against the sweat, and Dean groans, his fingers tangling with Sam's where they're caught in the turn of his hip, sighs and tips up his ass and says, in this dazed dizzy mumble, his mouth pressed half against the mattress: feels -- fuck -- feels so good, you always know how to -- make it like this -- god, right there -- there, yeah -- love your dick, it feels -- ah, god -- god, stay right there, please -- please -- daddy --

Sam's eyes open wide and he crushes his hips in tighter, harder, makes Dean shift an inch up the bed, moaning, his hand fisting painful around Sam's. "Right there?" Sam says, voice coming up from his gut, and Dean nods helpless, cries out when Sam nails him there again, and he knows -- he's got to know who's in bed with him, who's been right here, it's been a decade and longer and they had that fight and they had the next fight and then even if Sam didn't want to know, if he never saw, if he couldn't hear -- "Tell me," Sam says, harder, firmer, not holding to the soft pulsing make-it-last but fucking Dean, now, shoving an arm between his belly and the bed to scoop his hips up, long hard in-and-out that's coiling behind his balls, a pinning shoving demand, saying, "Tell me," up against Dean's temple, making it an order, and Dean gulps and says, please, like that, like begging, please, oh, fuck, fuck, dad--

(After:

Kissing him, plush and deep and licking every word out of his mouth. Dean with his eyes shuttered, his face red, turning his face against the pillow. It's okay, Sam says, and Dean curls against him, which at least is different from the first time after Sam found out -- when Dean turned away, when Sam had to chase him down and pin him and prove -- what? Not that it didn't matter. It mattered. But --

If I made it an order would you believe me? Sam says, and Dean's eyes open wide and then he sees Sam's expression, and punches him kind of in the gut, barely hard, but Sam says oof and Dean says, you're a freak, and there's a lot Sam could say in response to that but he doesn't, he just says, Takes one, and Dean looks up at him and then puts his head down against Sam's collarbone and puts his arm around his waist, sweet, and something Sam's sure -- he's almost sure, he's pretty positive -- never happened, in that other place, before -- and Dean says, guess so, and Sam puts his lips against Dean's hair, and it's hard to think of the man who's gone but sometimes Sam thinks thank you in an unformed and terrible way, and he doesn't think he'll tell Dean that part, ever.)

#happy wincest wednesday #answers #my writing #the full house of wincest #wincest #idk tag tag tag #this is just sex basically but i hope it works #i thought about trying for funny #but uhhh that's a tough sell with this prompt lol

[kiss-like-a-bruise]

for @wincestwednesdays september 2023 flash challenge

Lost:

pretend cousins and empty goodbyes - nowhere_blake

Summary: Oh, she believes they grew up together, no problem. She even believes the fire. But she'll be damned if those two are actually related. Deputy Kathleen Hudak is not blind, thank you very much.

Coda to 01x15 The Benders.

they were each other's toxic cure called codependency - nowhere_blake

Summary: Mary’s back, Dean is gone and Sam stops sleeping. She thought she understood how deep her boys' relationship goes, but when Michael takes over and Dean disappears, she needs to reevaluate just exactly how scarily codependent the two of them are.

Coda to 14x01 Stranger in a Strange Land.

Begging:

Unanswered Prayers - writinginthesecrettrees

Summary: John drops to his knees and prays to every god he’s ever heard of that Dean will somehow not notice the heavy lidded looks sent through the rearview mirror.

They're All They've Ever Had - heart_attackles

Summary: Letter from John to Bobby describing his feelings about Sam and Dean's relationship.

Rec notes: John begs Bobby to try and understand the boys.

Radio:

Old Roads and Rolling Stones - brokenlittleboy

Summary: Sam and Dean decide to take a break and go on a road trip, during which they fall in love and listen to classic rock.

Radio Song - azephirin

Summary: I meant to turn it off, to say goodbye, to leave in quiet….

Rec notes: Sam has a time slot on college radio.

Buried:

Permission - Lochinvar

Summary: Sam figures out what he wants. Takes Dean 20 years to say yes.

Rec notes: Snowed into the Bunker.

Day Seven: Stuck Someplace Together in Winter - Noname109

Summary: Dean and Sam are driving to get to a hunt through . . . which state again? The snow starts to pile up, but they don't think anything of it until they're buried under four feet of it. Sitting pressed up against each other isn't doing the trick of warming their bodies. Dean lets a secret slip.

Withdrawal:

Do You Approve? - orphan_account

Summary: Sam and Dean have been trying to hide their relationship from Mary since she arrived back in their lives. But there's only so long they can stay away from each other. What will happen when she finds out?

Rec notes: Sam withdraws from Dean after Mary finds out about them.

No one dared - sparklingice Summary: Sam tells Dean he's going to Stanford and thinks that will soothe the pain he feels, but it just deepens the wound and makes it bleed.

"Sam tells him in the driest dirthole of their freakshow of a summer, Gila Bend, AZ. "Where solar panels outnumber people." Freakin’ hilarious. It’s 105° and sunny, clashing with Sam’s general idea of a werewolf case so hard he just wants to let the fucker stay out here if it so wishes, let it burn down to embers under this goddamn desert fireball."

Rec notes: Sam and Dean struggle with the pain of separating after Sam's decision to leave for Stanford.

#wincest wednesday #wincest #wincest fic recs #fic recs #september 2023 #prompt: lost #prompt: begging #prompt: radio #prompt: buried #prompt: withdrawal #bruise recs

[fancycroissantgothparty]

Denial is a heavy weight to bare

(Click the image for better quality)

#wg teasing #Wg progression #Chubby!dean Winchester #supernatural #dean winchester #spn #myart #sam winchester #Prompt #Wincest