Wincest Wednesdays!

Bad Blood

by astolat

Okay, you have to admit there is just something intriguing about a good fuck-or-die.  Perhaps it adds a bit of realism to the other wise stretch of reality that is Incest.  Either way, Bad Blood brings you that desperation without the underlying want you often see in FoD fics.  Neither boys really want to fuck eachother, though Sam does realize it's the logical choice. Dean, however, would rather fuck a horse. 

Then all of a sudden it's a whole lot of reluctant reluctance (the very best kind of reluctance!) 

All that, and an awkward first time. What more could you ask for?

"Shut up, we've got thirteen minutes, and I am not sucking your dick," Dean said. He gave a heave and managed to pop the head inside.


"Ow!" Sam said. "Dude, payback's in five minutes, maybe you want to slow down."


Dean clenched his jaw and slowed down. It was just—it was disgusting, that's what it was, all that, oh jesus, heat squeezing down on his cock, way too tight, nowhere near slick enough, so it had that little burn of friction going, and Sam under him making little hitching breaths and shivering and giving these little low breathy "oh" noises, glaze of sweat all over his back muscles, so Dean couldn't even brace himself easy without his hands sliding. It was vile. Dean stopped, swallowing air in gulps, trying to get his head back on straight. All right. He was in, he was going to go ahead and do it, get off, and he wasn't going to think about it while he was doing it, not at all, not even a little—


"You're not humming Stairway to Heaven while you do me," Sam said, bucking hard up against him, and Dean said "oh fuck yeah" before he could help himself, and Sam said "whoa" in a kind of strangled way. Dean's hips snapped forward again without him meaning them to, and fuck, oh fuck it was good, it was bliss, Sam panting in time with him, both of them going ragged and whimpering. Dean grabbed Sam's hips, fingers digging in hard to get a grip on his sweaty skin, fucked into him four times and shot like a pistol, all that heat surging up into his cock and out, pulse after pulse, until he felt drained hollow.
And then his hips started to move again, involuntarily, even though it fucking hurt because his cock was too sensitive. He couldn't stop, riding Sam easy now with all his own slick everywhere and still coming, almost sobbing down in his throat. Sam had his head buried down against one arm and his hand gripped on the meat of Dean's thigh like a brand, saying, muffled, "Yeah, yeah," and then he was shuddering all of a sudden underneath Dean, clenching around him and milking him clean.


Dean fell down over him like a cut-string puppet and moaned weakly. "Dude, tell me you didn't just come! You didn't do it yet!"


Enjoy!

Wincest Wednesdays!

Ah, humpday. 

What better way to spend it then reading about humping?

Brotherly humping. 

It's a lot like brotherly bonding, except it's generally spend naked and hopefully coming. 

Lets be frank here, the coming is important. 

And with that thought, I bring you this week's rec. 

Filthy Mind

by Rivkat. 

It begins as your typical witch-hating-spell-fic, but takes a turn so smoothly, it rivals peanut butter.  It's never as you expect. Is it a ghost? Is it a demon? Is it something else? Yes, yes it is.  God -excuse me- Chuck knows I do love a good plot twist.  Oh, I do, I do. Dean get's hit with a curse with no cure in site.  What seems innocent quickly turns to something more sinister, though Elder Winchester takes it like a champ, and there is a pun in there I won't even bother explaining. 

He couldn't take his eyes off of Dean's dick, darkening with blood as he watched, swaying a little as it thickened. It was almost possible to believe that Dean was doing this on his own, but something else was responsible for the side-to-side jerks and the continued slide of skin up near the head. As Sam watched, the middle of Dean's dick just sort of spread out a little, as if it was being compressed by invisible fingers. A sick shudder went through Sam, bringing him back to himself.

Every succubus they'd ever heard tell of was visible, so this had to be something different. A poltergeist?

Well, he did have someone to consult: "What the hell is that?"

Dean managed to push his head and shoulders up off the bed, propping himself up with his elbows. "Looks like a—oh—handjob."

Sam's stomach flipped over. God, Dean wasn't even covering himself with a sheet. Of course Dean would have an over-amorous exhibitionist ghost attach itself to him; Dean had probably dreamed about this sort of thing for years.

Dean's eyes fluttered closed. Sam watched him as he tilted his head back and swallowed, the tendons and hollows of his neck arrowing down to his naked chest. "Dean!"

"I guess I'm just that sexy," Dean gritted out. His hips were jumping up and down now, little thrusts that should have looked sillier than they did. "Not really used to an audience," he said after a moment. "But hey, if it's working for you—"

Sam opened his mouth to deny it, then realized that if Dean bothered to check, he'd be able to see Sam half-hard in his boxers. He'd been sleeping, it was natural, but explaining that would only lead to further humiliation.

"I'm going to the car," he snapped, and jumped out of bed, looking for his sneakers. The spring night was warm enough that he could get away with boxers and a T-shirt, but when this was over, he was going toget Dean for fucking up the salt lines so that a spirit could get in, even a horny spirit. Come to think of it, that must have been what happened last night.

Dean picked up girls like pennies, and there was no reason they had to be alive for him to do it.

And there is totally a sequel.  I think I'll go read that now. 

Wincest Wednesdays!

What better way to celebrate Hump day then some brotherly humping?

That's right.  There is no better way. 

And with that in mind, I bring you....

The incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride

by (the amazing) fleshflutter

Let me just begin by saying that this is one of the most fantastic Wincest fic's out there.  It's just...ugh.  In fact, when I'm done here, I'm going to go read it again. 

In my opinion, it's so fantastic because it's got an air of realism (as far as you can have realism in wincesty Supernatural fic).  Dean might start out reluctant after Sam's super booboo,  but after the help of an entire creative cast of angels and demons,  even he comes around to it. 

"Hey, do you think this is infected?" Dean says and opens his towel.

Sam stares fixedly at the ugly red gash of claws on Dean's thigh, a souvenir from a battle a few days ago, and does not allow his gaze to wander.

"Uh… could be," he says in a strangled voice.

Dean frowns and fingers the flesh. "Hurts like a bitch."

"I'm interrupting," Castiel says.

Castiel is standing in the middle of the room where he wasn't just a second ago. Sam is not sure whether Castiel is more horrified to see Sam, or Sam is to be seen, on the bed with Dean apparently displaying his junk at him.

The only one who doesn't seem to be affected is Dean, who pulls a face at Castiel and reknots his towel. "See, that's another reason you guys should walk more, 'stead of pulling this appearing out of nowhere bullshit, it'd help you remember to knock. Not to mention, y'know, it's good for your heart. Or Jimmy's heart. Though I guess getting shot and me sticking a knife in his chest that time probably wasn't real good for his health, huh?"

Castiel is still frozen in horror.

"It’s not," Sam says to him. "We weren't. I wasn't. Oh god. Oh god."

Castiel edges towards the door. He shakes his head and holds up a hand to cut Sam off. "I apologize. I should have knocked. Clearly, with recent events, you need privacy. I will guard the door for you. Or, maybe, I can find one of those little signs for you to hang from the knocker. Yes. Do not disturb. I will make sure everyone knows you are not to be disturbed."

"Please don't do that," Sam says, but it’s too late, Castiel is already making his escape.

There's a perplexed expression on Dean's face as he watches Castiel go. Finally, he turns to Sam and Sam is all ready to launch into an explanation about how nothing at all happened in his meeting with Hell that would require them to need privacy.

But all Dean says is, "Did the angels switch to a new brand of crazy while I was gone?" before he pads back into the bathroom to towel dry his hair, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind.

And not only is it awesomely written, it has art too!

Wincest Wednesdays!

~Todays fic is~

You're The Last To Ask

by

stangerine88

Okay, so for today, I am brining you a generally feel-good fic. Very little agnsting, with an exception of a few moments.  It's also a great read for those of you who are not entirely into the Wincest World and want something light to begin with.   No graphic brother-loving in this fic, just your basic fade-to-black smut scenes.  It's especially good for a Wincest Noob because the Wincest is actually pretty minimal, only picking up at the end.  The main theme of the fic is Sam, who can suddenly read minds, and Dean who helps him control it.  

'He’s learning about Dean all over again- about the things his brother can’t and won’t share with him.

Sam loves how Dean can quote Good Omens the way Sam can quote his International Law textbooks. He loves how Dean knows all the words to every Chris Daughtry song on the radio, when he claims to be a rock-and-roll purist. Sam loves the way his brother remembers where they’ve been by the quality of a state’s food.

He hates how Dean can’t seem to tell him any of this- that his own brother doesn’t feel comfortable sharing the things that make Dean Dean with him.

Sam hates that this damn ability is the only thing that lets him see this person underneath his brother’s skin.

There’s a heavy, expectant feeling in his chest, one that burns hot and quick like lightning- when it isn’t slow and smoldering like the coals on a dying fire.

Sam can place it if he dares, if he’s willing to take the time to search through flames and blood and hurt to find it. The feeling is so familiar when he lets it touch him. It feels like warmth and safety and freedom and Jess.

It feels, he realizes after a bad night of wiping up bloody tissues and hiding the empty Tylenol bottles, a lot like falling in love'

A quick read, at just over 11k words,  this is a great little pick-

me-up with a good plot and great Sam-Voice. 

.

Wincest meets Angelic: Layers

                       MEETS







Today's a very special post, because it combines two of our weekly features in one post. Now I must say, I don't really ship Wincest, so I'm way out of my comfort zone here, but I'll do my best.

Layers by Strangeness & Charm

What do the Winchesters do when they're both drunk? They watch porn, of course and discuss the many layers hidden underneath the all too simple story line. The depths of porn; what a topic it is, indeed. 

Sounds like fun, right? Well, it appears to be, until a certain angel appears and Dean manages to tick him off. 

But is he really pissed, or did the 'prude' remark spark something else to life inside of him?

Dean was drunk, but not so much that he was affected in any major way, and Sam was buzzing from too many drinks and all the laughter that had come after. Contrary to his usual reaction, he was even finding it amusing that Dean had whipped out his (well, the non-existent Anton Keppler’s) credit card and paid to watch the motel’s porn channel.

“See, there’s a deep layer of irony about this scenario,” Dean was saying, waving the remote in the air as he lay back on his bed. “That guy in the balaclava has just broken into that nice naked lady’s house to steal the family jewels, and yet, now he’s there, he’s decided to show her his own family jewels.”

“I’m sure the scriptwriter was keen on layering on the irony,” Sam pointed out with mock seriousness. “There’s bound to be a deeply hidden Brechtian subtext too.”

“Oh, there are deeply hidden things in this alright,” Dean said, frowning. He tilted his head to one side. “No wonder her eyes are crossing.”

Sam couldn’t stop himself from tilting his head to one side, too, and then winced as Dean turned the volume up. “Come on, man. There’s only so many times I can hear a woman say ‘Oh ja’ before it gets old.”

“You need to read between the lines, Sammy,” Dean returned gleefully. “I told you, there’s layers here. She may look like a hot German housewife and it may sound like she’s saying ‘Oh ja’, but really she’s an undercover cop pumping that guy for information about who his fence is. Once he leaves with his bag of swag, she’ll be all over his ass.”

Sam glanced at the screen. “Well, she’s certainly letting him get all over hers right now.”

Dean snorted. “Oh, ja. Oh, ja!”

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Both boys jumped to their feet, spinning to the door with reflexes only slightly compromised by what they’d imbibed that night. Castiel stood before them, his eyes fixed on the TV screen, a wry half-smile on his face.

“Dude,” Dean hissed. “If you’re gonna go bamf and pay us a visit, could you at least have the decency to call first?”

He lifted the remote and clicked off the sound. Sam knew that he could just have easily turned off the TV, but apparently it gave him a weird sense of amusement to leave pornographic images on display in front of an angel. Sam would’ve smacked him around the head if he’d been closer.

Shameless smut alert! And how we love it. 

Go read this excellent one shot by Strangeness&Charm. She did an excellent job, although like me, she doesn't ship Wincest. 

Much love and until next time. 

Shirley Out. 

 

Wincest Wednesdays!

Today I have for you an especially special treat.  It's not just a fic.  It's a whole freaking verse.  And it's absolutely amazing, kinky, dirty, smutty and delicious.  And I'm pretty sure there's a plot in there too, and isn't that always a plus.   The author is one of my favorites,  you can find her here atrockstarpeach's journal.  Not only is it an awesome verse, it even comes with a couple of podfics, which you 

can find on the masterlist, here. 

Title: Blow Me!Verse

Pairing: Dean/Sam

Rating: Adult

Word Count: a whole freaking lot 

Summary: Dean and Sam don’t like giving head. Which makes sense, because they aren’t gay. They both like getting head though, so sometimes you just gotta take one for the team. Sam decides to take advantage of their arrangement, because Dean’s kind of a jerk.

Disclaimer: Not mine, I make no money.

Snippet:

“Goodnight,” Dean said pointedly, eyes wide in warning as he looked at their beds, trying to end the awkward moment.

“No, seriously Dean.  What the hell is going on?  A nice restaurant for dinner?  An actual movie?  And you... you just kissed me...”  Sam’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped.  Dean started to flush and Sam grabbed his shoulder to hold him still when he tried to make a break for it.

“Holy fuck,” he said, voice barely coming out more than a raspy whisper because holy fuck.  “Was this... Was this a date?!”

“What?” Dean asked, snorting out an awkward laugh.  “No.  What... No.”

“Holy shit.  It was!  Oh my God.”  And then Sam was smiling, because this was almost too funny to be real.  “That was you.  On a date.  Christ, Dean.  No wonder you’ve never had a girlfriend.  You suck at it dude.”

Dean scowled at him and he tried not to laugh, he really tried, but this was just Goddamn gold.

“Oh, blow me you little shit,” Dean growled.  “I know you’ve been a girlfriend a couple of times, Sammy, so I thought I’d defer to your expertise on this one.  Hey, what’s it like being a lesbian, anyway?  Is it hot?”

Man, that's one of my favorite parts of the Verse.  Check it out, it's a long read, lots of smut to keep you company and even a whole bunch of schmoop for you fluffy suckers out there! 

Wincest Wednesdays! The Late Late Edition!

Sorry, friends, for I have kept you waiting.  But I am here now, with a spicy little one shot wee-cest super!sammy fic for your enjoyment!

STORM FRONT

bewaretheideas15's journa

Fandom: Supernatural 
Pairing: Dean/Sam 
Rating" NC-17 -- Wordcount: 6,700 
Warnings: Weecest, kind of AU (Sam has different powers), some angst, some schmoop, frottage 
Notes: Like many of my more bizarre ideas, this came from a sentence in another fic that only tangentially mentioned Sam and the weather. My brain terrifies me. Special thanks to paper_storm88 for reading through this and supplying helpful ideas. Also, to everyone who gave me love during my recent whining (it's getting better) - I love you all! And, hey, I finished something! 
Summary - In restrospect, it's the sort of thing that seems obvious, but in their defense,how many people - even people in their line of work - would really sit around and think 'huh, wonder if Sammy can control the weather?" 




There is very little I love more than Weechesters.  The vast unknown that is pre-series leaves a lot to be read. This fic does that and more, by offering a slightly AU aspect.   It begins on a hunt, and doesn't it always? But this time, it's Sam who's there to save Dean, at the risk of his biggest secret.

“You broke the electricity,” he points out, poking Sammy in the side when the kid looks primed to just pass out on him, covered in come on the bathroom floor. Yeah, Dad would just love to stumble in on that in the morning.

Sam grins again and shrugs, “It happens sometimes.”

For whatever reason, that kickstarts something in Dean’s memory, jumping all the way back to last summer when they were staying in that hole-in-the-wall in South Carolina and the power kept going on the blink every couple of hours from all the heat lightning.

“Hey,” he pokes his brother again, a little less playfully this time, “That job back in July with the civil war soldiers, was that you? All the blackouts?”

Sam’s face pulls into something that might be a bit sheepish if Dean could see it right. “You kept washing the freaking car!” shrieks defensively.

Wincest Wednesdays!

Lifelesslyndsey here, bringing you that brotherly lovin' by the handful

First up, to make it super filthy, I'm bringing something we call in the fandom Weecest. 

Thats right. Pre-series Wincest. Also known as Teenchestercest. 

Easy On The Clutch by yourperiphery

in which sam turns sixteen in panabaker, new hampshire, and dean teaches him to drive.
sam/dean
adult
31,000 words

Secondly, I bring you a trifecta fic. Thats right. Fic, Prequel, Sequel. Hours of good-read. Be warned, this one's angsty. 

Gone Again, by candle_beck's journal

Four months later, you couldn't really call it living. 

Sam/Dean, 

Adult 

32376 words.
prequel
sequel

And finally, a fic that totally blew my mind. It's post-apocolyptic, but unlike any you've ever read, I'm sure. If you read nothing else, read this. 

The Last Outpost For All That Is by gekizetsu

The world begins with the interruption of a sleep. Which is why wakefulness is the only proof of existence

Adult

Sam/Dean

Lot's O' Words

This is Lyndsey, over and out.  I promise to see y'all next week, with a boat load of more erotic codependency. 

Wincest Wednesdays!

Dean was bitchslapped by an elemental but it's Sam who has to cope.

Title: Turn Of The Wheel Verse
Author: gekizetsu 
Pairing: Sam/Dean
Rating: G-NC-17
Warnings: incest, wing!kink, sexual situations, blasphemey (if you can't stand blasphemy, you are in the wrong fandom, please close the door on your way out, kthnxbia --lyndsey)
Word Count: upwards around 90k

So when I asked the darlings over at spnstoryfinders for a Gabriel/Sam wing!kink fic, and I got wingcest instead, I was to say the least, a little skeptical.

But this fic is awesome.

Because in this story, not only does it combine my love of wings with my love of wincest, Wingcest is the story. It's not just a side-effect of the plot.  It is the plot, or most of it.   Sam and Dean make friendly (and by that I mean kill) with an air elemental, and Dean ends-up inside out.  But not in a gross and gory way, more in a 'my soul physically manifests into wings on the Sabbat' kind of inside-out.

And Sam, they find out, has a little bit of a wing-kink.

Or maybe just a Dean's-Soul-Kink,

The road is winding, and full of Elementals, Shamblers, and a perfectly characterized Bobby (he's like a coconut, tough on the outside, soft on the inside, and really hard to crack).  It might take the wings to make them realize something that was always there, but realize they do.  Sam's always been Dean's anchor, and Dean's always been Sams vice.

"""Dean gestured in midair between himself and Sam, trying for the right words, hands held apart as if he was describing the big one that got away. “Whatever the hell else that one I shot was trying to do, maybe it was just some of the energy I got hit with, but, the wings. They’re not...like wings. I mean, they are, obviously, but the feathers feel things. When people touch them.” He went on gesturing pointlessly and finally glanced up at Sam.

Sam was staring at him expressionlessly.

“So, uh...” Dean said. “Yeah.”

“You waited until now to tell me this,” Sam said.

“Well...”

“You’re telling me you actually get off on people touching your wings,” Sam said. “That’s why you kept letting me do it. That why you let all those girls...”

Dean shrugged, and the motion was much more expansive with wings. The smirk was minimal, but it was there.

“Dick,” Sam said.

“Don’t be a poor sport, Sam,” Dean said. “I mean, what’s the big deal? It’s temporary. They show up for a day every few months, then they’re gone again and I’m me and you’re you. We avoid things with four walls and find someplace underground on those days until we figure out how to keep it from happening, and in the meantime, perks are perks.”

Sam just stared at him but he was reddening again.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Loosen up, Sam.”

“You’re pretty much saying we just throw all the rules out when it happens,” Sam said. “You don’t really care if this wears off or if we figure out how to make it stop, do you.”'''