Please. Never Get Enough Of This Trope. More Shapeshifter Wincest Pining Reveals, Thanks.

Please. Never get enough of this trope. More shapeshifter Wincest pining reveals, thanks. 👏

i literally can't stop thinking about shifter!dean so i curse thee with a brain dump ficlet. cw for non-con groping & kissing

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"See, deep down, I'm just jealous. You got friends, you could have a life," the shifter said, Dean's stolen face barely visible in the dim sewer light. His eyes flicked between Sam's, hurt and something unidentifiable swimming in them. "Me?" He leaned in closer, the space between them growing hot and humid. Sam could feel the shifter's breath on his cheek. "I know I'm a freak."

Sam scowled, glaring the creature down. "What the hell are you talking about?" Dean was a lot of things; a nerd, a jerk, disgustingly charming, but not a freak. That title was reserved for Sam.

A grin twitched across the shifter's lips. "Oh, you don't know, do you?" it said, amusement thick in his voice.

Sam knew he should ignore it, this impulse to get insight into his brother's mind, his thoughts and feelings that he kept held so closely to his chest. The thing would probably lie anyway. But Sam was never good at resisting temptation. "Know what?"

Not-Dean was suddenly straddling Sam's thighs, a lascivious smile on his face. Sam instinctively tried to move away, but the rope kept him from doing much more than squirming under the creature's weight. A low chuckle rumbled in its chest. "Dean here?" It shoved its hand between them, roughly palming Sam through worn denim. Sam tried to stifle a gasp, only half succeeding. "He wants you. Hell, he's wanted you since he was seventeen."

Sam felt frozen, shock making his limbs feel numb. Or maybe that was the rope cutting off his circulation, he couldn't really spare the brain power to tell. "Wh-what? No, you...you're lying."

The shifter leaned in closer, nipping at Sam's earlobe. "Oh, the things he wants to do to you." He ground his hips down against Sam's lap forcefully. "His sweet little Sammy."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Sam registered Not-Dean was hard. Another sharp bite, this time to the hinge of his jaw, had him letting out a startled yelp.

The shifter groaned against his skin. "God what he would give to hear you make noises like that." It grabbed a fistful of Sam's hair, yanking down on it hard. Sam, in an attempt to stifle a loud cry, let a pitiful whimper slip past his lips instead. The creature's eyelids fluttered shut. "Fuck, yeah, just like that."

Warm, plush lips were suddenly on him, sliding against his stock-still ones. Before his brain could send the message of no bad no, his own lips were moving. The shifter growled and pulled his head back further, drawing a gasp out of Sam and giving himself an opening to lick deep into Sam's mouth. A soft moan escaped Sam. What could he say? The thing could kiss. Dean could kiss.

It was like a bucket of ice water was dumped on him. He twisted his head away, forcibly breaking the kiss. His heart was hammering in his chest and his stomach flipped and the worst part was, Sam couldn't tell if it was disgust or...

The shifter slowly stood, still trying to catch its breath. It reached down and grabbed one of their duffel bags, swinging it over his shoulder. "Well, it's been great, y'know, shattering your worldview and all," he looked Sam up and down once more, predatory, "but I've got a hot date with lovely little Becky."

...

"Well that's 'cause you're a freak," Dean, the real Dean, teased from behind the wheel as Saint Louis disappeared behind them.

Sam snorted. "Yeah, thanks," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"Well I'm a freak too. I'm right there with you, all the way."

"Yeah, I know you are." Sam looked down at his hands, twisting them nervously in his lap. The shifter's words bounced around his brain: He wants you. He shifted in his seat and bit his lip, the next part of the memory playing involuntarily.

Dean shot him a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. "What?"

"Dean...um..." Sam readjusted in his seat again, the Impala suddenly feeling claustrophobically small. "Well, I, uh-"

"C'mon Sammy, spit it out."

"The...the, uh, shifter. It...well it...there's something..."

Dean shot him an annoyed glare "Sam," he admonished.

"Do you want me?" Sam blurted out, his face blooming scarlet and his skin too hot.

Dean's grip tightened on the wheel. A muscle in his jaw ticked. "What?" His voice was too calm, too measured.

"The shifter, it said you wanted me. It...it kissed me. Do...do you want me that way, Dean?"

Dean was clenching his teeth so hard that Sam could've sworn he heard his jaw creaking. His knuckles were white on the wheel and his face, where Sam expected to see fiery red skin, angry or embarrassed, was drained of all color. Dean didn't respond or even look at Sam, just turned up the radio so loud that neither could hear themselves think.

Sam's stomach was in knots again, and this time, it was worse: he knew it wasn't disgust.

This is another piece that keeps popping up for me and putting me in trances every time. I haven't seen 'Devour' and didn't realise until after coming across this artwork that it was based on this:

I am fucking ruined. It's exquisite.

𝑰𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒅 𝒘𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕.

HB to Dean Winchester.

我想画神父太久了....

I keep coming across this stunning artwork and every time I do, I have to stop for a while. It's an incredibly emotionally loaded piece, and I can't get past Dean's hands gripping Sam for dear life. They're perfect. They're cradling, devouring. They swallow Sam up like Dean has been trying to do their whole lives. I can't look away.

It finally occurred to me today, after stumbling across it again, that it almost looks like he's breathing life into Sam. Like something awful has happened and the only way Dean can fix it is to pass his own life into Sam somehow, which he will always do, again and again, without a moment of hesitation, no matter the cost.

And then it hit me.

(The Kiss of Life, 1967. Photo by Rocco Morabito.)

This is what it reminds me of. It's the same desperation. The same surrender. The same exchange of life in a breath, a meeting of mouths, fear and need and rescue.

It's beautiful.

Hearts will dream again Lungs will breathe in Wash away the sins It's where it begins Feet won't fail you now Arms won't let you down Wash away the sins It's where it begins

"I just fell for their company line." ↳ 12.22 - WHO WE ARE

Who ARE these people. I try really, really hard to live and let live, but this hate-boner they have for Sam/Jared is fucking gross. Grow up and realise you don't have to shove someone down to raise someone else up.

I lean Dean but I'll die on this fuckin' hill.

You're so welcome! I'm really glad you saw this. It's too easy as creators to get caught up in the little flaws we see in our work, and I imagine it's that much worse in a visual medium. I'm always ranting to anyone who'll listen about how important feedback and comments are just to validate the creator's effort, but if it also helps them take a step back and see the beauty again in their creation, it's worth the time tenfold. 🥰

And I'll never get tired of seeing your piece cross my feed. 💖

Hearts will dream again Lungs will breathe in Wash away the sins It's where it begins Feet won't fail you now Arms won't let you down Wash away the sins It's where it begins