sweetwincestuous

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The thing was that Sam, Dean knew, was perfectly lethal.

Dean would know: he’d raised him to be.

Those wide, earnest eyes never missed a thing; Sam knew the second someone’s guard dropped - and that’s when he would strike.

Dean had bought Sam his first knife when he was eleven.

Sam’s fingertips had been feathery light over the blade, his eyes calm and dark. “Won’t you need a knife, too?”

“Nah baby boy,” Dean had told him a little breathlessly. “I just wanna watch you.”

#weecest #serial killer!au #textpost

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#gif #kiss #wincest

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Can you hear the sound of the leather backseat of the Impala under the weight of two warm bodies, the heavy breathing, the gasps and moans, the “Sam”, “Dean” and “Sammys” in broken voices? Because I can.

Animation attempt based on x (the original source has been deleted)

Wincest animations | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

#gif #wincest #top!sam #bottom!dean

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The way I would worship dean’s cock is …filthy for a 14 year old. It makes me feel dirty sometimes. I know it’s wrong, but… I can imagine it’s dark color as it slowly hardens. I’d feel him harden under my small fingertips. my own touch making him writhe and breathe heavier as his thighs start twitching from holding back his thrusts. I hope he’d sigh my name right after he comes.

From the diary of a 14 year old Sam Winchester (via filthywinchesters)

#textposy

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priest!Dean shoving priest!Sam’s pants down and fucking him on all fours in the empty church while Sam tells him to fuck him harder in latin

#textpost

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#wincest

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ok but….. they’re in a motel with the windows partially closed as sam rides dean and dean can only focus on how sam’s hair falls from behind his ears, how the sun catches in those silky strands, how the sun illuminates the sweat on his face, lights up his shoulders and the one drop of sweat rolling down his stomach

#wincest #bottom!sam #top!dean #textpost

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When Dean gets back from the small gas station that’s next to the motel they’re staying in, he almost drops the food he just bought on the stained carpet. That’s how it starts. Sam is sitting on the couch, wearing only his underwear and a faded blue tee-shirt that’s hanging loose on his thin frame. That’s not what has Dean dumping the bags on the table and kicking the door shut with his foot. What makes him rush forward is the purple blooming on Sam’s cheek, the split lip where angry knuckles kissed them, and the tear tracks on his cheeks.

There’s rage pooling inside Dean’s stomach, something untamed and terrifying because someone hurt his little brother and Dean already has a few hunts on his belt, knows what monsters look like, and knows how to kill them.

But right now, it’s not the answer Sam needs, with his domino-bones shaking everywhere and arms hugging his knees. His skin is porcelain pale and just as breakable. He doesn’t need Dean to ask him what happened, it’s pretty clear anyway, in all its purple, swollen, ugly glory. It’s not the first time Sam gets bullied in school. He’s too quiet, too grown up already to use his muscles and that brain of his to put down those who think that because they’re taller they’re stronger. Sam could take any one of those brats and get them to beg on their knees for him to let them go. But he doesn’t. Just lets them get a few kicks in for a reason that has Dean curling in hands into angry fists: it’s not worth it. Or maybe worse, he’s not worth it.

Dean doesn’t say a word, just sits on the couch next to Sam, and brings a hand on Sam’s back, rubbing small circles there and terrified he’s gonna break Sam in a million pieces. But that’s not what happens. Sam tenses for a second but then he’s melting against Dean, arms unclenching from around his knees and reaching to grab Dean, to hold him against him while he sobs with his head buried in Dean’s neck.

Dean’s heart is heavy in his chest, pounding in his chest for this miracle of a boy he doesn’t dare to call his brother. There is something fragile hanging in this room as he holds his brother close, ready to be destroyed by just the wrong word. So Dean holds his breath and stays with his arms around Sam, for what feels like forever and not nearly long enough. But then Sam raises his head, eyes shiny with tears and a drop of blood on his lip. Dean gets lost for a second, enough for him to be surprised when suddenly his brother’s lips are against his, pressing softly. Sam’s eyes are closed but Dean’s are wide open, along with his chest, his heart, his ribcage, all of himself bursting at the seams.

It’s quiet, silent, and not at all how Dean pictured this moment in his wildest fantasies. He can feel Sam’s tears slipping between their lips where they’re pressed together for the very first time. There’s salt and the taste of copper on his tongue when he tentatively licks Sam’s bottom lip. He’s kissing his brother and tastes homesickness, the kind of longing for places you’ve never been to settling in his heart.

There are no fireworks, no big explosion, just the steady drip of the leaking faucet in the bathroom.  The room is too cold, mold on the walls and humidity making the air heavy and damp. It’s a perfect place for broken hearts and an ugly nowhere, but as Sam buries his head again in Dean’s neck, a flush on his cheeks and not on single word on his clever tongue, Dean can’t help but think that this place, today, is also a bright forever.

52 weeks of Sam and Dean (Ao3) whoaeasytiger vs. @buticancarryyou Prompt #31: First kiss (Ao3) See Karri’s version (Ao3)

#textpost #ficlet #weecest

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What's your favorite position to have Dean in?

#gif #top!sam #bottom!dean

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#gif

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My Wincest Lovers

I need more wincest blogs to follow (as if I don’t follow enough already) so if your blog is predominantly wincest/weecest reblog please ❤️

#other #not wincest

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Sam is already on his knees. He’s just picking up some things from under the table, some papers that fell. He looks so very innocent, just being a good boy.

Dean walks over to him, his hand is warm as he grabs Sam’s cheeks, making his mouth into that perfect little brother pout.

Sam’s eyes are wide as they climb up Dean’s body, landing on his dark eyes. He hears Dean take a ragged breath before his eyes trail down to take in the glorious outline of his dick in his jeans.

Sam is just barely able to breathe out a “please.”

#weecest #textpost

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When Castiel pays a visit to the Winchester’s motel room, he’s not expecting to find Sam’s thighs closed around Dean’s head, body twitching with pleasure.

‘Oh,’ he thinks, ‘so the stories are true, then.’

#wincest #textpost

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photo credit to twinksinpanties

When Dean walks into his room, after a long ass day at the garage, he’s ready to collapse. But he stops dead when he sees Sam already there, waiting for him. Except it’s not like other days, where Sam will be on the bed or in the bathroom. No, Sam is kneeling at the end of the bed…in stockings and frilly pink panties.

All of Dean’s breath leaves him. All the blood in his body rushes to his cock and he falls to his knees, scooting forward until his knees are touching Sam’s stocking-clad feet. His hands immediately find Sam’s pert little butt cheeks and, fucking Christ, he’s never gone from zero to sixty so go damned fast. 

“Hey Dean,” Sam says, voice breathy. He turns his head, long hair sweeping over his shoulders as he looks back at Dean, smirking. His cheeks are pink like he’s already fucked out and if he’s like this now, then he’s going to be an absolute wreck when Dean’s finished with him. 

“God Sammy,” Dean groans as he runs his hands over the smooth heels of Sam’s feet. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days, baby brother.”

Sam just tilts his head back and moans. Dean lunges forward, teeth finding the sensitive skin that makes up the juncture of Sam’s neck. Dean moves his hands back to Sam’s butt cheeks and kneads. He dips his fingers down and in and then stops again, breath catching in the back of his throat, when he feels the hard plastic. 

“Fuck Sammy, got yourself all plugged up for me already?” Dean asks, voice almost leaving him with the overwhelming amount of lust clogging his throat. 

“Mmm, didn’t want to wait for you to fuck me, daddy.”

Dean almost nuts then any there, shaking so hard he has to close his eyes and take a breath before he’s back to sucking violent purple marks into Sam’s neck.

“That’s right, baby,” Dean grunts, “Daddy’s gonna fuck you so good.“ 

#weecest #daddy!kink #stockigns #panties

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the boys take full advantage of Dean’s last days at school before he drops out

#weecest

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Little 14 year old sammy crawling beneath dean’s covers, waking his big brother up with kitten licks at his dick until Dean is rock hard and leaking, his fingers clutching sammy’s hair, biting into the sheets, pillows or his own damn hand because John is on the motel room’s couch just feet away and sammy’s throat is wet and hot and so tight when he swallows his big brother down and Dean doesn’t know if he can stay quiet

#weecest

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Sir David Attenborough demonstrates the accuracy of the Mozambique Spitting Cobra’s venom streams by wearing a chemically treated visor that makes the venom turn purple on contact.

From Life in Cold Blood

#other