Tag: wincest

“Oh, hey look, it’s not even that bad… It’s not even that bad, alright? Sammy, Sam! Hey, listen to me, we are going to patch you up okay… You’ll be as good as new. Huh? I’m going to take care of you, I’m going to take care of you! I gotcha. It’s my job, right, watch after my pain-in-the-ass little brother… Sam… Sam… Sam! Sammy! Oh, no, no, no, no… Oh god, oh god… SAM!”

winchesterandwinchester:

So Dean reaches for the beer and opens it, and I think nothing of it. Until I see him set the first beer in front of Sam and then open his own. They’ve been fighting literally most of the season and yet, as soon as things are settled, Dean is back to taking care of Sammy. I’ll be in the corner crying and whispering something about brothers.

kayter:

 #He’s terrified of making sudden movements, terrified that thing will open it’s mouth and eat him up, and that’s all he’s got to worry about until the thing, it says, Dean hides a lot of things inside that dumb, pretty head of his. Sam doesn’t want to know what Dean hides, he tries to say, but God, he wants to know so damn bad he’d do anything for it. The thing comes up behind him, grins cocksure and condescending, leans down to whisper into Sam’s ear, Dean wants so many things, Sammy. Wouldn’t you like to know? Sam tries to shake his head, but it grabs his hair, yanks his head back so it can lick up his jaw. Dean wants to fuck you, baby boy, it says, so calm and collected like it isn’t setting fire to Sam’s insides, isn’t disrupting a system Sam had been perfecting for so long. He thinks about it all the time, it says, He thinks about it when you bend over to grab things, lean over to turn the light off. He thinks about it when you sit in that passenger seat, it kisses the side of his head, so gently it’s degrading, You take up all of his mind. He doesn’t know what he’d do if you left him. It grabs him by the hair again, forces him forward until he has to get up from the chair. It positions his handcuffed hands above his head and leans his body across the table, ass sticking out. Sam feels fear, cold panic, creep up his throat when it strokes slowly, almost kindly down his back, fingers catching at the knobs of his spine, dragging his jacket off until it hangs uselessly around his waist. Can’t blame him, it whispers like it’s a secret, and he makes his first noise of protest. It hushes him, says, Let’s put on a show, yeah? Wanna bring Dean in? Let him see himself taking what he’s wanted for so long? It’s poetic irony, Sammy. A while later, when Sam is screaming, screaming, screaming, it says, I love you, in Dean’s voice and Sam comes harder than he ever has in his life.