Wincest prompt: Dean sees other girls taking interest in Sammy and makes sure to steal Sam his first kiss. :D possesive Dean is a plus

Dean was headed to chemistry when he heard it.

“Oh my goodness, Jane! The new boy in our government class is so cute!” Dean turned to see a few freshmen girls making their way slowly down the otherwise deserted hallway.

“I know, right? He’s so adorable! And his dimples, ugh! I wonder if he has a girlfriend.”

“I highly doubt it. He just moved here. And even if he did, she’d be too far away to do anything about it.” the first girl giggled loudly. The girls turned the corner chatting excitedly and disappeared.

Dean, however, was frozen, mind racing at the thought of his Sammy with something as ridiculous as a girlfriend. He mentally backtracked to that time in his life. Quickly doing the figuring, Dean blanched. He had lost his virginity by that time. Even if his brother was decidedly more prudish than Dean, that didn’t mean that Sam hadn’t thought about girls, about kissing them…

Dean stormed down the hallway, his mood now dismal. Sam hadn’t even mentioned being interested in someone, but what if that was because Sam didn’t trust Dean enough to go to him with these kinds of issues? Or maybe he was embarrassed about his lack of knowledge in that particular area compared to Dean? The 18 year old stomped into his classroom and slumped into his seat. Not many paid him any notice, happily carrying their conversations and ignoring the anger practically rolling off the new kid.

The teacher soon silenced the room and commenced class.

Dean spent the class in agitated turmoil. He had long since accepted his feelings towards his brother as something more than platonic, but that didn’t mean that he had actually thought about Sam with other people. Rage and jealousy boiled under Dean’s skin, and he willed the clock to go faster so he could go and find his little brother. As soon as the bell rang, Dean jumped out of his seat and charged toward their designated meeting spot. When Sam came into view, a little bit of the anger seeped away. Dean wasn’t so much mad at Sam as he was at himself for not realizing sooner that of course Sam could be interested in other people.

Sam watched as his brother came into view, and noticed immediately that something was off. Had a student said something to piss Dean off?

“Hey, Dean,” Sam said uneasily.

“‘Sup, Sammy?” Dean replied distractedly, scanning the halls and placing an absentminded hand on Sam’s shoulder. The younger boy warmed under the contact; Dean rarely touched him in public. His love for his older brother far surpassed what was considered normal, but damn if Sam didn’t love it when Dean physically showed his affection.

“Ready to go?” Sam asked, looking up at his brother.

Dean nodded distractedly and lead Sam to the car, hand never leaving Sam’s arm. Sam inwardly grinned and allowed himself to be pushed towards the impala. He climbed in and threw his bag over the back of the seat, Dean doing the same.

“Sammy?” Dean questioned hesitantly. Sam paused in his process of buckling his seat belt to look over at his brother.

“Yeah?”

Dean slowly shook his head and threw on his “big brother” grin.

“So, there any girls you dig?” he asked as turned the key in the ignition. Sam’s eyebrows drew together.

“No, why?”

Dean shrugged. “Just wondering.” but he looked a lot more at ease. Sam’s heart started to race at the implications.

“Dean, does that—? I mean, do you—? That is…” Sam stuttered, fiddling with his fingers and cracking his knuckles. “Were you jealous?” Sam finally blurted and almost slapped himself.

Dean blinked. “You sound a little hopeful, there, baby boy.”

“Well, I, um… I just—” Sam sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. Dean pulled up to their motel and put Baby in park.

“Yeah?” Dean encouraged, staring at his little brother.

“Uh, what I mean to say is, um… yes.” Sam admitted and looked down at his lap, terrified of what Dean’s face was doing. Had he assumed wrong? Dean wasn’t saying anything. Oh god, he fucked up big time. “Dean, I, I’m sorry—”

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean said, and Sam’s eyes snapped over to his older brother. Dean was smiling, well and truly smiling, hope lighting up his eyes. Sam’s breath caught.

Suddenly, Dean lunged, grabbing his younger brother and dragging Sam into his lap. He laughed giddily and pulled Sam in for a kiss. The 14 year old yelped but returned the kiss enthusiastically.

Out of all the make out sessions Dean had participated in, this one was definitely towards the lower end skill-wise, but Sammy more than made up for it in enthusiasm. His fingers gripped Dean’s shoulders tightly, as if letting go meant getting shoved away, so Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist and dragged him closer. Sam wrenched his mouth away suddenly and dropped his forehead onto Dean’s.

“Thank you.” he whispered. Dean huffed.

“No chick flick moments.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Please write me some extra fluffy weecest with lots of Sam’s puppy eyes and awesome big bro Dean ! Thx

(A/N: I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I was writing this, had it almost finished, and then the page crashed, so I got super angry and gave up for several days. It’s not as long as the original, and I do apologize for that. I hope you enjoy anyway!)

“Sammy, I’m home!” Dean called out from the entryway of their apartment-of-the-week and threw his keys into the little bowl on the side table as he did so.

“Dean!” the older brother heard from somewhere within the apartment. Running footsteps followed and soon Dean was catching a flying Sam out of the air. “You’re home!” Sam exclaimed and buried his nose in his brother’s neck. The 19 year old chuckled and pulled Sam in closer for a tight hug.

“Hey, baby boy.” he greeted, kissing Sam’s hair briefly before putting his younger brother down. “I brought dinner.” Dean held up a bag of food from the diner up the street. “I got your favorite. Salad with carrots, cucumbers, tomatoes and those crunchy curly thingies you like so much.” Dean held the bag aloft to make his point. Sam snagged the bag and headed towards the kitchen, Dean following close behind.

“They’re deep fried noodles, Dean, how many times do I have to tell you that?” Sam asked rhetorically and put the food down on the table. Dean rolled his eyes but wisely refrained from commenting. He busied himself by setting the table whilst Sam unpacked the food, Sam with his salad and Dean with a burger.

“So how was school today?” Dean questioned when he saw his little brother about to protest his choice of dinner. Sam sighed but decided to drop it.

“Mr. Kropp sat on another tack today. I swear, he must have an army of them on his desk that jump onto his chair to stab him every day.” Sam said around a mouthful of salad and dressing. “And Mrs. Graves is conspiring to fail me. She said that the paper that I turned in last week had ‘too strong an argument.’ What does that even mean?” Sam practically demanded. Dean chuckled.

"Too damn smart for your own good, Sammy.” he replied and ruffled his little brother’s hair fondly. Sam squeaked in indignation and batted Dean’s hand away, but continued eating in lieu of talking again.

They finished their dinner in companionable silence and Sam stayed in the kitchen to wash up whilst Dean sat down in front of the ancient television and flipped over to an episode of M*A*S*H. Sam hurried through his cleaning and joined his brother on the couch, snuggling onto the couch. Dean lifted his arm let Sam burrow into his side until he was comfortable.

They finished the episode, and once it was over, Dean flicked the TV off, throwing his brother a side glance as he did so. Sam sprang up and practically dragged his older brother to their bedroom, slamming the door behind them and pressing up against Dean’s chest. Dean immediately locked their lips together and wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist. Sam moaned into the kiss and raked his nails down the older boy’s sides. He gripped the hem of his brother’s t-shirt and whimpered when Dean wouldn’t let go of the back of his head. When he finally wrenched his mouth away, he threw his best puppy eyes up at his brother, fingering the threadbare t-shirt and tugging on it subtly.

“Dean,” Sam griped. “It’s my turn today.” Dean laughed and grabbed Sam’s ass.

"So it is, baby boy.” he whispered in his brother’s ear and bit down lightly on the lobe. Sam gasped but pushed the 19 year old away again. Sam threw a pouty face at his older brother and dropped to his knees.

“Fuck, yeah, Sammy.” Dean breathed and tangled his fingers into Sam’s hair. The night was going to be a long one, Sam would make that certain.

Serial killers AU, someone hits on Sam in a bar and Dean doesn’t like it.

“Hello, handsome.” A woman said in a sultry voice, placing her hand on Sam’s arm. If her red dress and designer handbag wasn’t the first thing that screamed trouble, her giant wedding ring and stilettos so high her foot was perpendicular with the floor certainly did. “How about I buy you a drink?”

Sam smiled alluringly. “Thank you.” he said and helped the woman onto the stool next to him. A few drinks and not-so-casual touches later, the woman was happily tipsy and well on her way to getting laid by this giant hunk of a boy. She could feel herself already tingling with excitement. All of a sudden, a shorter but decidedly more attractive man wandered over from the pool table and slung an arm over the giant’s shoulders.

“Well well well, who d’you got here, Sammy?” The man asked. The woman perked up. She wasn’t anticipating a threesome tonight, but damn if she didn’t want one now that she had seen the two men together. Sam grinned.

“Hey, Dean. This is a friend of mine.” The woman held out her hand, and he took it in his and pressed a lingering kiss to the back. Sam leaned in closer to Dean’s ear.

“I think she wants to go home with us,” he whispered into the shorter man’s ear. The woman shivered in delight. Tonight was going much better than she had planned. Dean nodded thoughtfully.

“You think so?” he asked rhetorically, eyeing up the woman. She straightened up and pressed her arms together subtly, pushing her cleavage out that much farther. “Hmmm…” Dean hummed deeply, his gravely voice dropping in timbre. The woman barely kept herself from drooling.

“I think that’s a good idea.” he said at last and helped Sam stand. Sam downed the last of his drink and helped the woman off her stool and into her coat, Dean rubbing Sam’s back all the while. They walked out into the parking lot and Dean held the door to his impala open for the woman as she climbed in. She was practically vibrating with excitement as the men took her to a seedy motel nearby. They checked in for the night (the woman was sure the max these men were going to pay for was 2 hours, but she was happily mistaken) and moved into the room they were given. Dean had a duffle bag in one hand, and the woman looked at it curiously. Maybe they had brought along some toys…the woman felt herself get wetter just thinking about it.

“Why don’t you go take a seat over there for a moment,” Sam whispered into the woman’s ear and motioned to the chair in the corner. She dutifully did as she was told, delicately crossing her legs and placing her handbag by the leg of it. Dean moved behind her, fiddling with the zipper on the bag. Sam sat down on the king mattress, staring at the woman.

Suddenly, a rope flew over the woman’s head and was fastened snugly around her waist and arms. The woman cried out, but something hard hit the back of her head with enough force to make spots dance across her vision.

“Shut up, bitch.” Dean said coldly, quickly and effectively gagging her with…she didn’t even know what. “The minute you laid your hands on my Sammy, you were dead.” He grabbed her chair and dragged her across the carpet to the center of the room. “And know I get to have a little fun…” he growled the last word in her ear.

Sam smiled and waved from his place on the bed.

“You see,” Dean started conversationally, “Sammy’s been mine since the day he was born. Dad put him in my arms and I knew. It was instant. And I don’t like it when somebody touches what’s mine.” He slid the tip of a knife down her arm, carefully not breaking the skin. The woman shuddered in horror; two brothers were going to kill her for flirting.

“Sam!” Dean snapped suddenly, making the woman jump. Sam hopped up immediately and quickly went to Dean’s side. He wound his arms around Dean’s waist and locked his fingers together over Dean’s stomach, nuzzling his nose into Dean’s neck.

“Yeah, big brother?” he asked darkly.

“Where should I start first?” Dean asked, the knife twinkling ominously in the light. Sam chuckled.

“Her arm. That’s where she touched me first.” Sam squeezed his brother lightly and pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s cheek before stepping back. Dean grinned.

“Shall we begin?”

I want some teencest where Sam wants to drop out of school so he and dean could run away together but Dean convinces Sam to wait until he graduates

(A/N: I don’t actually think of John as this angry a person canonically, but to make the story fit, I made him a physically abusive asshole. Also, super extra secret bonus thing if any of you understand the teacher reference I threw in here!)

Sam walked into his bedroom-of-the-week, eyes still burning and red from his last bout with his father. A bruise was quickly forming on one of his cheeks, and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to go to school the next day because his teachers were very strict on the “no hats/no sunglasses” rule. Ms. Bitters, Sam’s homeroom teacher, was especially stern with rule-breaking. She had once growled at a student when he walked into class chewing gum. Sam shuddered slightly at the memory and chucked his backpack somewhere in the direction of the desk. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself onto his and Dean’s bed and sleep, but he needed to start dinner and do the laundry.

Sam scrubbed a hand over his face and headed to the kitchen. John hadn’t gone grocery shopping in quite a while, as he was usually too drunk to remember to do so, so Sam had a very limited amount if ingredients to make something half-edible. He knew that asking his father for more would be pointless; once John got to the punching stage of his drunkenness, he was too far gone to do anything else but yell and cry.

Pulling out his meager ingredients, Sam pondered over what to make. He had some ground beef, half of a loaf of stale bread, and some ketchup. Maybe meatloaf?

As Sam thought, John had wandered into the living room and slumped down on the couch, bottle of cheap whiskey dangling precariously from his fingers. He could hear his younger son banging around in the other room, making an awful racket that sent John’s head throbbing.

“Saaammmm!“ he slurred, almost dropping his bottle. "Pipe down!"

Immediately the noises from the kitchen quieted, and John nodded to himself.

"Fuckin’ h’ngry,” he mumbled and rubbed his stomach.

Sam huffed and went about dinner in a very reserved manner. He tried to make as little noise as possible, mixing and cleaning up after himself as though there was a bear in the next room and not his father. When Sam had the meatloaf in the oven, he went down into the basement and grabbed the ancient laundry basket he had found in the moth-ridden linen closet and silently made his way back into the room he and Dean shared. He gathered all their dirty clothes and softly tread towards his father’s room, quickly picking up all the soiled clothing on the floor and bed. He turned to head back to the basement where the outdated washer and dryer sat tiredly and almost screamed when he saw his brother standing in the doorway.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam whispered angrily. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

“BOYS!” John bellowed, struggling to pull himself off the couch. Dean winced at the sound.

“Don’t worry, Sammy, I got ‘im.” Dean said and practically ran to the living room. Sam shook his head and went down to the machines. He threw the clothing into the washer, poured in a small amount of detergent, and set it going. He checked the timer on the oven on his way back to his room, noted the time remaining, and walked into his room to start on his homework. Which he didn’t have to do. Because he couldn’t go to school the next day. Fuck.

“Hey, Sam?” Dean asked, sweeping into their room like a Greek god personified, brushing his hair back with one of his grimy hands. He had just finished his shift at the auto shop down the street. “I’m gonna take a shower, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, Dean.” said Sam solemnly, sitting down on their dingy comforter.

“Rough day?” Dean supplied, walking over to kneel in front of his little brother and rub a gentle thumb over Sam’s purple and yellow cheek. Sam just nodded. Dean sighed and stood, scratching at his neck awkwardly before grabbing his duffle and heading off to shower.

Sam flopped back onto the mattress, staring up at the ceiling despondently. If only he and Dean could leave, get out from under their father’s proverbial boot and strike out on their own. But Sam and school, and… but he kind of really didn’t. He could barely go to school anyways, since most teachers frowned on his covering up and anti-social personality. A few had even threatened to call CPS on his dad because Sam had a test that day and couldn’t skip out after his dad had punched him. Sam sat back up, ideas racing through his mind so fast that he could barely catch them all. If school was the only thing holding them back from leaving, then Sam would gladly give it up to run away with his brother.

Dean breezed back into the room, hair still wet from the shower. Sam jumped up and dragged his older brother onto their bed, motioning for Dean to be quiet. Dean’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What’s up, Sammy?” he whispered questioningly, placing a hand on Sam’s side. Sam warmed under the contact.

“Dean, I have an idea.” Sam whispered back. Dean’s face couldn’t pick between confused and amused.

“Oh yeah?” He asked finally, rubbing his hand up and down.

“I’m gonna drop out.” Sam stated, nodding firmly. Dean’s eyebrows practically shot up into his hair.

“What? Why?” he asked incredulously.

“Because.” Sam said, as if that explained everything. “Then we can leave.”

“Sammy, we can’t leave. You have to graduate.” Dean looked even more confused. Sam huffed.

“I don’t wanna graduate, Dean. Not if it means having to stick around here.” Sam scooted closer to his older brother, putting a meaningful hand on Dean’s knee.

"Sam,” Dean said reproachfully. “I didn’t finish high school. And look where I am now! Working as a mechanic for some dip-shit who doesn’t know a thing about cars.

"Sammy.” Dean said and took his brother’s face in his hands, careful to avoid the new mark on his precious little brother’s skin. “I want you to have what I couldn’t. I had to drop out to take care of dad; the least you could do is finish and rub that diploma in my face.” Dean smiled sadly. Sam shook his head, reaching up to pull Dean’s hands off his face.

“No, Dean! I don’t want you to have to take care of dad anymore. We should get out of here. Dad can take care of himself, you know he can.” Sam looked into his brother’s eyes pleadingly, cradling Dean’s hands against his chest.

“Sam.” Dean said and tried to pull away. “We can’t do that to him.”

“Why do you always have to defend him!? He hits me, abuses you; why can’t you just accept the fact that that man out there isn’t our father anymore!?” Sam stood angrily, pointing towards the shut door.

“But he is our dad, Sam.” Dean said, staring at the wall. “We can’t just leave him now, especially since mom’s anniversary is coming up.” Dean’s voice cracked a little.

Sam sighed and looked down. “Then what should we do?” He asked in a hushed tone, already sounding defeated. He wanted to finish high school, but he could barely go because of all the bruises.

"First of all, you are going to finish high school.” Dean said sternly, pulling Sam back onto the bed with him. ”We’ll figure out what we’re gonna do after that.” He dragged his brother into a hug, palming the back of Sam’s head.

"Okay, Dean.” Sam whispered into Dean’s neck. “Okay.”