Welcome to the randomness 🦄

'That one looks like a plane, that one looks like a werewolf, that one looks like a car…'

There's something in the trunk.

Sam felt his stomach twist into a knot, a sinking feeling overcoming him. He pushed himself up on his knees. No way he saw that. No fucking way…

Sam grabbed the bumper, and took a deep breath, pushing himself up. He swallowed, slowly glancing at the small, old, faded green  bag Dean had stuffed into the back, the one he had tried to take out after Dean had got him from school a few months ago.

"Leave it." Dean had said, voice firm, his grip on Sam's wrist almost tight enough to bruise. "There's just some of Dad's old contacts and notes."

Sam nodded, and Dean gave him a warm smile.

Sam had been desperate to find some way to  help Dean after he had almost been killed hunting a Rawhead, and the doctors had only given him a few weeks to live.

Dean wasnt gonna  die from heart failure, no fucking way. Not if Sam could help it.

'Dad's on a hunting trip and he hasn't been home in a few days.' Dean's voice echoed in his head. 

Dad. Dad could help if he was here…Sam called every phone number their dad has "This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son~"

Sam throws the phone so hard he knows he's broken it.

He went outside, threw open the trunk and grabbed the bag that Dean had forbidden him to touch, and unzipped it…

'Dad's on a hunting trip  and he hasn't been home in a few days.'

Sam didn't need to turn the severed head over fully to confirm it was his father's. 

Dad wasn't on a hunting trip, and he wasn't coming home, and Dean…Dean killed…Dean fucking lied….

Sam smirked, closing the bag back up. "Told you before I left he would always choose me."  Sam set the bag down where he found it, carefully turning it so his father's face was pointed at the backseat.

"I'm gonna take care of Dean, and then I'm gonna fuck his brains out."

Wincest Unhinged #8 "You walk out that door, dont you ever come back!" John Winchester's voice echoed in his own head. Sam had always been the type to run away, and honestly, John had been the same way at that age, full of rage at his own father who had abandoned him.

'I never abandoned them, I've always been there.' He told himself. 'Sort of…'

John sighed, finishing his beer as the bartender called for last rounds. Maybe there was a chance he could catch up to Sam. He was sure he couldn't convince his youngest to come back, once he had made his mind up about something, that's all there was to it, but he could at least make sure they parted on better terms.

John drove back to the motel, cursing as he fumbled with the key, the light mist of rain clouding his vision as he tried to get the key into the door, and then finally opened the door, and stepped into darkness.

He could hear muffled crying.

'Shit' John thought. Dean had been a wreck since Sam had left, had yelled, thrown everything he could get his hands on, John was certain Dean was gonna throw a punch.

Maybe he deserved it.

John flipped on the overhead light, steeling himself to see his son, and instead saw a naked man tied to the bed Sam had been using the night before, a gag in his mouth.

The man, couldn't be older than 20, looked so much like Sam that John almost yelled out his youngest's name. He turned towards John, eyes wide with terror. He pulled at the restraints.

John tried to shush him, looking around for Dean while bringing his knife out to cut at the ropes. The man screamed into the gag at the sight of the knife, flinched as he was accidentally nicked.

"Fuck, hold still!" John growled, grabbing the man's arm. He felt something warm and wet on his fingers. Slowly he glanced down.

Carved into the guys flesh was a single word; Dean's.

John stumbled back, slamming into the wall, and this time, he actually looked at the scene before him. The bed was covered in blood, the smell of sex and cum in the air, and this guy, who looked exactly Sam, had Dean's name, his fucking claim carved into him atleast a dozen times.

"I didnt think you'd be back yet."

Before he could react to Dean's voice, something slammed into his head, and he was thrown into darkness.

He was tied to a chair. He knew it before he opened his eyes.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy…" He could hear Dean's breathy moans. 

"Stop!" Another voice yelled; "Please…please I wanna go- ngh!" 

John's eyes flew open, watching as the man struggled under Dean, struggled as a wet rag was placed over his mouth and nose, until his eyes rolled back and closed, his whole body going limp on the bed.

"Shh…not going anywhere." Dean said. He looked at his father. "He's not going anywhere…" There was a warning in his voice.

"Dean." John spoke low, trying to not sound disgusted at what he was seeing; "Son, what are you doing?"

"Fucking my brother." 

John wondered if Dean had meant for it to sound like he was just asked a stupid question.

The man squirmed, as Dean gave a slow deep thrust, letting out a groan; "Fuck Sammy, always knew youd be tight." John tried not to pay too much attention to the filth Dean was saying as he was fucking, raping, his brother's look alike.

Dean was fucking insane, there was no doubt in John's mind, and maybe he was to blame for it. John had made Sam Dean's entire world, his purpose, and then had shattered it.

A wave of guilt and relief washed over him. "Knew you'd be tight.."

Dean hadn't fucked Sam. Hadn't done this to him. 

John Winchester had failed his sons, this was entirely his fault. Taking a deep breath, trying to work past the throb in his head, he worked at the knots.

Dean didnt seem to care one way or the other, the blade in his hand working on tender flesh as he carved. The man's body jerked instinctively at the pain.

"Good, so good." Dean crooned, kissing one of the cuts, his tongue swiping over it. "Gonna wake up with my cum dripping out of you, Sammy, gonna get you a nice plug, use you whenever I want…"

The man's eyes fluttered open, clouded and pained.

Dean kissed him; "There's my boy, my baby brother, love you so much…"

The man looked at John for help.

Finally, the rope gave, and John stumbled forward, catching himself, and straightening.

Silently, John picked up one of the guns off the table beside him, and pointed it at the man's head. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Collin…" He groaned, whimpering as Dean's pace quickened. "Please…please…"

"Wrong."

John grabbed the rag Dean had used before with his other hand, pushing it to Collin's mouth and nose, keeping the barrel of the gun against his skull. "Your name's Sam."

John knew he would burn for this, but at least he could keep the real Sam safe by letting Dean indulge into this sick fantasy.

Happy Birthday Sam Winchester!

You really are too precious for this world ❤️

Sam Winchester Appreciation week :

Wincest Unhinged #7 Sam's scared, he's so fucking scared. 

"If you love me, you'll let me do this." Dean says low into his ear. 

"I do…I do love you, I'm just…"

Dean kisses his neck; "You don't trust me after all I've done for you?" He sounds hurt. Sam quickly shakes his head; "No, no, I do it's just…it's just a lot."

"If you can't do it, just say so. I can find someone else, and it'll be your fault. Just like last time."

Last time. The last time Sam said no to one of Dean's games. Dean offered Sam a beer, told him it was okay, he understood, and within a few minutes, Sam felt so fucking groggy. Dean came up behind him and wrapped an arm across his chest, pulling him backwards. 

"I love you."

Dean held him, the embrace loving and possessive.

Something was wrong. Very, very, wrong.

"It'll take effect in a minute, don't worry, you'll be fine." Dean promised.

"What?" Sam slurred, trying to get his eyes to focus.

If Dean said something, Sam doesn't remember. 

Sam remembers waking up, handcuffed to a bed. He remembers seeing someone, a man he didn't know laying beside him, staring at him without blinking, his eyes rolled back slightly, his mouth hung open.

He was dead. 

But more horrifying, he  looked like Sam.

 "He won't hurt you, he can't." Dean promised. Sam jerked his head to the side, looking at his brother. "What did you do?! What the fuck did you do?!"

Sam thrashed on the bed, pulling at the cuffs. Dean covered Sam's mouth, fingers pressing so hard, Sam knew there would be bruises. 

Dean pressed his forehead against Sam's; "Shh…Sammy, you need to be very, very, quiet, and listen to me. I need to take a shower."

Sam gave Dean a confused look.

"I am going to let you go, and I'm going to take a shower. In that time I want you to make a decision. You can either help me clean up this mess as an apology for  the trouble you caused or you can call the police. But I promise you, I will not be going to jail."

Dean didn't even give the option of Sam running.

They both knew he wouldn't.

Dean took a step back, releasing Sam.

"Tell me you understand." 

Sam bites his lip and nods; "Ill help."

"Thats my boy."

Sam got into the shower with his brother, washed his skin clean, kissed his fingertips, let Dean push those same fingers into him, and worked him open, slow and gentle.

"Feel good, doesn't it, baby boy? He didn't feel as good as you. You're so much tighter…"

Sam let out a soft moan, rolling his hips back. 

"Kid didn't tighten up until I had my hands on his throat." 

Dean curled his fingers around Sam's cock, pumping him, and fuck, it feels so fucking good.

"There's no shame in telling big brother what you need."

Sam pushes back, trying to get Dean's fingers deeper, trying to get him to touch that spot. 

He's getting off on the hands that just strangled someone. He knows this. But Sam can't get past the urge to fuck.

When he begs for Dean, so embarrassingly needy, Dean looks proud. 

That was the last time. This is now.

 Right now Dean has him naked on the bed, working him open, pushing the head of his cock in and out of Sam's unprepped hole. 

Dean doesn't speak, doesn't acknowledge that Sam is in pain, hell he seems to be enjoying it a little more because of the noises Sam makes.

'You can say no or stop at any time, but you know the consequences.' 

"Dean, Dean, please," Sam chokes out, voice breaking, " I wanna…" He pushes against Dean's chest.

Dean kissed him, cutting off his words; "You know I won't let anything happen to you, why don't you trust me? Don't you love me?" 

He does, he loves and trusts Dean so fucking much. "I do…I promise I do…"

"Then dont fight me."

Before Sam could react Dean grabbed his throat, Sam's hands flying instinctively to grab Dean's arms as his air was cut off 

"Relax." Dean growls, and gives a hard painful thrust pushing the entire length of his cock in at once.

Dean moans, and  when Sam lets his arms fall to the sides, Dean gives Sam that same look of pride he gave before, and for just a moment, the satisfaction that Sam made Dean happy, overshadowed the fear and panic of not being able to breathe.

Then Dean squeezed tighter, rolling his hips. "Feel so fucking good, doing great Sammy, little more, almost there…"

Despite his promise, Sam grabs at Dean's arm's he hits, and scratches, tries to beg with eyes for Dean to let up. 

'Trust me, love me, trust me…" Deans words echo in his head, and fuck, he does. Dean's killing him, but he still loves him.

The world slips away…

Sam's eyes fly open as he takes in air, Sam feels Dean roll him onto his side.

"There you go." Dean says, rubbing his back. "Thought I lost ya there for a second. You did so fucking great Sammy, felt fucking amazing. You made me cum so fucking hard."

Dean gently lifted Sam's head onto his lap, fingers stroking through Sam's hair. 

"Thank you, baby, boy. We can do it again tomorrow since you liked it so much too."

Sam glanced down, saw his own thighs covered with cum.

He hated that. He fucking hated it.

But he loves Dean more.