♱

now playing : strangers - ethel cain

[southernimpala]

mia ! ⋆༺♱༻⋆ 2wenty ⟡ supernatural ⟡ sammy's girl ⟡ brunette ⟡ june baby ⟡ college sophomore ⟡ daughter of cain ⟡ hypnotic poison ⟡ candles & stormy nights

♱ masterlist ⟡ requests

♱ dividers by @saradika-graphics & @anitalerina ; all photos from pinterest

inbox is always open ♡

[southernimpala]

aaah!! happiest birthday to you, sweetie pie!!! i hope it's been a good one 🫶🏽

it was !! thank you so much beautiful !!!!

[southernimpala]

gasp happy birthday !!! <3

thank you so so much lovely !!!!! <3333

[southernimpala]

OMGIE HAPPY BIRTHDAY MIAAAAAA!!!! THE BIG 200000 🗣🗣🗣‼️‼️‼️

AHH THANK YOU SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL!!!! this age is UNREAL 🫶🥳🫶

[southernimpala]

linking this birthday masterpiece (which thank you SO MUCH for almost 3k notes <3) to celebrate my birthday ! happy twenty to me !

(p.s. does being 20 mean it's more socially acceptable to date sam winchester ? yes !)

[ohangeleyes]

tina's fanfic recommendations

i wanted to do this for so long and then i saw my beloved taggie doing this and it felt like a sign. below are my absolute favorite authors and their works of art. shakespeare aint got shit on yall.

(considering i 99% times read about sam, the list below features only sam fics) 18+ !! mdni probably gonna update overtime !!

@thesundontshineontheseeyebrows

"you should see the things we do in my dreams"

gotta start with my absolute favorite fanfic oat i'm not even kidding. i've read this at least 4 times, never get bored of it.

@theedaythatnevercomes

"breathe out, so i can breathe you in"

"revelations"

"cherry waves"

"hold me 'til i die"

i thank the universe every day for introducing me to this blog. literally EVERYTHING is amazing but these are my absolute favorite ones.

@sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

"record" has a pt 2 on ao3 (my absolute favorite)

"pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape"

"I dreamed of the places I’ve been with you"

"you got me good (I knew you would)"

"squeaky clean"

writing genuinely feels like "home" idk how to even describe it. so so many amazing fics, if i start listing all of them i'm gonna run out of room lol.

@southernimpala

"you know i'd do anything for you"

"midnight swim"

"backseat" "frontseat"

"all that's left are your walls..."

mia=shakespeare. such beautiful writing i can never get enough.

@wvyik

"the virgin problem"

you'll always be in my mind my sweet sofi </3

@holdinggrudges

"what's my flavor?" "dripping in my favor"

old but gold. never knew i needed vampire!sam this much until i read this.

@sacr1ficialang3l

"these crosses all over my body remind me of who I used to be"

my roman empire. i still think about this fic to this day.

@kblognar

"gorgeous morning"

"cereal and coffee"

@plasticflowersinahistorycemetery

"strange eyes" pt I pt II

@chxrrywines

"mean"

"assistance"

"sexxx dreams"

other amazing authors:

@violained LOVE the fluff fics

@filthgf my fav freak

there are so many other amazing authors here that i still haven't stumbled upon on. love every one of you for taking your time and doing this. you all are amazing im so proud of each and every single one of yall. never stop doing what you love.🤍

[southernimpala]

so lucky to be amongst these amazing authors & tagged by this beauty !!

[dollislvt]

oh my god give me that fucking dickkkkk

[southernimpala]

[southernimpala]

working on a new blog theme stay tuned for about 2-3 years :)

[southernimpala]

backseat

sam winchester x fem!reader (ft. dean :)

summary ↬ you're in the backseat of the impala 'asleep', but really, you're just eavesdropping on sam & dean

notice ↬ pure fluff (i promise the angst is coming ya'll (and the smut ;)), dean is a shit as always but not really he's actually a good brother in this one, who else wants to fall asleep in the back of the impala like pleeaaaseee, no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 1.4k

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ read part two ↬ frontseat

the rough leather backseat of the impala itches at your legs as they lay curled atop it, your head leaning on the window, foggy and freezing against your cheek as the chilly temperature of north dakota bleeds through. you try to catch up on some much needed shut-eye on the way to the motel. 

 which, unsurprisingly, is very hard to do when sam and dean winchester are in the front seat, fighting over the stereo.

“if i hear one more led zeppelin song, dean—” 

“woah, woah.” you peek your eyes open slightly to see dean’s finger pointed at sam, his face scrunched in a scowl, “there is no room for zep slander in this vehicle, sammy.” 

sam laughs sarcastically, shaking his head, his growing, soft wisps swaying in front of the headrest, “fine, then, i suggest you play something produced past 95’.” 

dean clicks his tongue in distaste and turns to look past the steering wheel again, “kids don’t know good music.” suddenly, just as you close your eyes, dean calls your name, looking at you through the rearview mirror, “what do you think we should play?” 

 “silence,” you grumble, trying to shield your vision from the bright street lamps as they flash orange light rhythmically past your closed eyelids. 

“alright, ac/dc it is then,” he says, sliding in a new tape—the one you recognize instantly from memory, marked with ‘ac/deanc’ scrawled in messy handwriting on a strip of tape slapped across the front.

as angus young’s guitar starts to echo from the stereo, you slowly melt back into the seat, adjusting until you’ve found a comfortable spot. 

you begin to drift off again, fading in and out of consciousness as the tapes change ever so often: metallica, black sabbath, and, when led zeppelin starts to play again, you can just envision sam’s beautiful eyes rolling.

eventually, you rouse awake to the low hum of some billy idol track, the volume way lower now that the car clock signals 3:31am. 

you can hear the crinkle of a bag of chips sam is snacking on, dean’s fingers tapping to the beat of the music, and the rumble of baby underneath you. 

you’re about to force yourself into more sleep, moving to cover your forearms with your hands to keep them warm, when sam’s soft voice lulls in the silence. 

“do you think she’s cold?” he mumbles quietly, and you see, from your low hooded eyes, his head moves just slightly behind the headrest to examine your figure.

he’s right to question it. the temperature is becoming more frigid as the night blooms darker, and you’re sure the goosebumps on your arms are visible if he looks hard enough. 

“it’s warm in the car,” dean responds, turning onto a backroad. the car is swallowed in darkness as the streetlamps fade into haunting trees stretching into miles of forest surrounding you. 

sam’s tongue pokes his cheek in thought, and without prompt, he’s shrugging the brown carhartt off his body, turning in his seat—you’ve told him to start wearing a seatbelt—and delicately draping the warm material across your shivering shoulders. 

a blanket of musk, campfire smoke, and something only described as sam winchester envelops you.

you shut your eyes quickly so he won't suspect you’re awake, but that means trying your damnedest to bite back the smile fighting its way onto your lips at the gesture. you snuggle deeper into the jacket to hide the bottom of your face while pretending to be asleep. 

peeking through your eyelashes, you see sam not bothering to hide his own smile at the sight of you nestled under his jacket. your heart picks up.  

he re-rights himself in his seat, clearing his throat as he focuses on the road ahead again. 

“real smooth, there, romeo.” dean smirks, giving him a knowing nod.  

“shut up,” sam shakes his head, picking nervously at a loose thread in his jeans, “she looked cold.” 

“oh, did she tell you that, huh?” dean teases again, shoving his shoulder playfully. 

sam moves away from his brother’s provoking hand, “eyes on the road, jerk.” 

“bitch,” dean scoffs, but you know the grin is there: real and genuine, “just tell her you love her so i can stop watching these mixed signals.” 

your stomach twists. 

“dean, i don’t—” sam trips over his words, bringing a hand down his blushing face, “i just gave her a jacket in under 30-degree weather—”

“—and patched her up for over an hour after that werewolf got its claws in her, and walked her back to the room when she drank too much, and freaked out when that guy tried picking her up at that bar in minna—” 

“that’s called being a gentleman,” sam narrows his eyes, growing more defensive, “and we both freaked out, so don’t try to—” 

“i freaked out because the guy looked like a creep, you freaked out because somebody—anybody’s—hands were on her,” dean moves to take a sip of his melted slurpee from dinner, “there’s a difference, sammy.” 

the things dean mentions start flooding back into your memory, the gestures at the time seeming so innocent, no possible way for there to be any underlying connotation if you hadn’t thought about it hard enough.

until now, when you’re thinking about it hard enough. 

the way sam’s hands shook just slightly as they expertly stitched the gash on your leg, and how his eyes held something else under the concentrated look; a glimmer of worry, fear, even, at the idea that you were hurt. 

then, how those hands, no longer shaky, gripped your waist tight to keep you on your feet as you stumbled back to the motel room from the bar one night. you were trashed, the hunt a particularly hard one, yet, he didn’t let you fall. tucked you in and everything. 

you had no idea about the last one, of the gross drifter trying to get lucky with you. no clue that it’d bothered him—both of them—but, especially sam in that way. not until now. 

and suddenly, they all make sense. 

“whatever, dean,” sam says, his words lower than a whisper, like a child who's just been scolded, “it’s never been that way with us.” 

“it can be,” dean argues, “‘think i don’t notice the way she acts toward you, too?” 

 sam laughs mirthlessly, like a light breath escaping past his lips, “drop it, already.” 

“i’m being serious!” dean’s voice picks up just slightly, eliciting a “shhh!” from sam as he nods his head toward your ‘sleeping’ figure. 

he quiets, “i’m being serious, you’re both idiots.” 

well, he isn’t wrong about that. 

maybe you had been looking at sam a certain way. with a twinkle in your eye you can’t control. a giddiness you only show when he’s around. the laugh that bursts through your chest at his jokes.

the gentle hand you placed on his, shaky and tactful, as it took care of you that night. 

and the expression that met yours when you did so. 

you see it flash the back of your eyelids as they flutter against the moon’s glow through the window. you melt further into the smell of him at the memory, wishing it was his arms around you instead. that he wasn’t so far away in the front seat. 

“she’s good for you,” dean adds in the moment of silence, “and damn, is she beautiful.” 

sam lets the corner of his lips curl into a gentle smile, the thought of you filling his head, of every moment where maybe he didn’t think hard enough either, “yeah,” he whispers softly, “yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

he looks back to you, lets himself take in the image of you underneath something of his keeping you warm, safe. 

something in him bursts. 

fuck, he loves you. 

and, you think you love him, too.

dean’s music fades as you nod off for the last time till you make it to the motel. the impala shifts into park, and the engine growl is sharply cut. you groan as you’re awoken, stretching out your limbs as you yawn loudly. 

sam opens the door on your side, peeking his head under the hood, “good morning, sleepyhead.” 

you yawn a response, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. instantly, once your vision un-blurs, your chest clenches at the conversation overheard a mere few hours before. you can’t help the deer in headlights stare as you look up at sam’s gentle features, smiling softly at you. 

and he has no idea what you heard.

he sticks his large hand out for you to take as you step out on wobbly legs. you refuse to let go of his jacket as it stays hanging on your shoulders. 

yeah, you think, i love him.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

[southernimpala]

4k+ likes on backseat is SO insane !!!! thank you guys again & again ♡

[southernimpala]

canvas getting hacked while i planned to study for finals is actually detrimental but i guess that means watch supernatural instead ?

[southernimpala]

dean winchester teaching you how to shoot a gun... ❀࿐ {smut !! , fem!reader}

because he cannot even fathom the idea of something happening to you. when he finally agrees to let you come on hunts—it was not easy to persuade him—his first contingency is that he taught you everything. dean needed to make sure that if he wasn’t there, you would be okay. 

after lining up cans in bobby’s backyard, dean comes up behind you, places his warm, calloused hand over yours as he raises your arms up. the gun feels like an immeasurable weight in your palms—metal smelling, with a hint of rust—but, all you can focus on is dean’s thumbs rubbing circles over your knuckles. 

“easy… line the barrel up with your target,” he fixes your aim and you feel him press a kiss to your shoulder when you straighten out, “there you go.” 

your knees wobble. he notices, smirking against your skin, settling his chin in the nape of your neck. 

“now—when you’re ready to fire, softly press against the trigger,” he places your thumb against it, “can’t have you blowing yourself backward, now can we?”

you shake your head and swallow, trying to focus your full attention on the tiny campbell's soup can ahead of you and not his body pressed flush against your back. but, just as you’re about to push down, one of dean’s arms comes off yours, snaking around your waist, and he’s starting to move lower. 

line the barrel up with your target... 

wind rustles. the can rattles against the wooden post its balancing on. your heart beats louder than a hummingbird. 

“dean—” 

“shhh, focus baby.” 

you try, but then his fingers crawl down your stomach, teasingly popping the buttons of your shorts, pulling the zipper down achingly slow. 

softly press against the trigger...

“then, fire,” he whispers, husky and quiet. 

you shoot, just barely skimming the metal top, wobbling the can slightly but not enough to blow it fully off its post. 

not that you care—since dean cups your entire core in his hand, thumb finding your clit instantly. safety pops on. arms fall to your sides. your weight collapses entirely against the broadness of his chest. 

fire!

from the author ⤷ hello ! not sure what this is - but first drabble? plus dean for once yay !!

tags ♱ @filthgf , @sacr1ficialang3l , @ohangeleyes , @dontlistentodaisy , @violained , @sploosh805 , @heartoftragedy , @aseafullofstars , @s0urw00lf , @marlsvii , @spectralgalaxygauntlet , @nayspy (if you'd like to be added, let me know !)

[ohangeleyes]

‎ꫂ᭪݁ night boy ★ sam winchester

♱ content warning smut !! mdni fem!reader dubious-ish consent very dom!sam yumyum established relationship unprotected sex small plot lowercase intended set somewhere between s1 - s5

♱ notation author was horny asf and wrote this at 2 am after dissapearing for 3 months so pls be nice lol. english isn't my first language and idc if there are any mistakes.

it was already way past midnight when the black chevy passed your city's entrance sign.

sam and dean had finished up with the endless hunt as the younger brother had called it and hit the road couple of hours ago. it wasn't supposed to take this long, "3 days max, i suppose" he told you on the phone, but it's been almost three weeks and sam is slowly going insane.

his bed has been cold. lonely. he has instinctively reached out for you in his sleep too many times. but now he's finally coming home to you and sam feels like he can properly breathe for the first time in forever.

tonight was one of the rare instances where sam was driving the whole way instead of the older brother. dean was out cold, snoring like a fucking bear, however sam was wide awake.

now if this was any other night, both of them would stay over at your place. you have a spare bedroom, where dean has slept dozens of times before.

but no. sam had left his brother at the nearest motel near your place, because tonight was one of those nights when sam felt a bit selfish. he needed you only to himself. alone.

the second dean closed the passenger side door after getting out of the car, sam hit the gas pedal like he was running from death.

your place wasn't too far. just 10 minutes away.

okay, that was too far for him now.

he lowers the window, letting the breeze hit his face in hopes of some relief for his overheating body, gripping his aching fingers on the steering wheel, dying to touch you.

he remembers your texts from last night again. he has been thinking about them since the second you sent them.

"i've never missed u this much before."

"fuck i'd let u do anything if u were here rn."

"i'm going crazy baby i miss ur dick so much."

sam is practically foaming at the mouth when he enters your driveway, tires screeching on the asphalt so loud he almost wakes up the whole neighborhood.

he gets out of the car quickly, reaching for his pocket as he's approaching the front door. he takes out the spare key you gave to him couple of months ago after his frequent night visits.

"you want me to be your night boy?" the memory hits him.

"night, morning, evening, whatever you want to call it" you had said with a fucked-out smile on your face.

sam closes the entrance door behind him, dropping his duffle bag on the floor and quickly taking off his shoes.

he almost sprints up the stairs, but when he reaches your bedroom door, his movements slow. he knows you're most definitely sleeping, he wouldn't ruin this moment by waking you.

so he quietly opens the door.

and there you are. tangled under the white sheets, the moonlight creeping in from the window illuminating your silhouette. you're facing the wall, but sam can immediately recognize his shirt covering you. he knows you always wear his clothes when sam is gone, it always smells like him too.

"it helps me sleep better" you told him once and sam carried that sentence in his heart ever since.

he approaches your bed with a few quiet steps, just enough to reveal your sleeping face and he curses under his breath. it takes everything in him to hold his composure, but he loves seeing you like this, all soft and relaxed and so beautiful.

his dick is literally throbbing and aching in his pants when he finally sits down on the bed behind you. he takes a second to take the sight in, before his shaky hand ghosts the silver of the skin that's not fully covered by the shirt. he trails his fingers down the soft sheet covering your hips and legs, slow and careful.

god, he can feel his restraint breaking each passing second.

he softly removes the linen from your figure, exposing your skin to the night breeze. but sam's hand freezes when he sees you dressed in only mini cotton shorts thats not doing a good job at covering your ass... at all.

if sam winchester had any kind of restraint or moral left, it's all gone by now.

the linen drops from his hand somewhere above your knees, then his hand rests on your hip. he can't help but dig his fingertips in your flesh. gosh he feels like a teenager.

only then do you stir, confused and a little alarmed by the feeling. you're supposed to be alone.

"it's me, baby" sam instantly reassures as he noticed your pretty eyes fluttering.

"sam?" you say, voice almost inaudible, "when did you get back?" you try turning on your back.

but sam immediately stops you, his free hand gripping your shoulder, pinning you on the bed.

"shh... don't move" he whispers, "stay just like this". his voice is calm, steady, however his fingers are betraying him, where they tremble on your hip.

"what are you doing?" you say in a hushed tone, but sam doesn't answer. not yet. his mind is too foggy and his hands are still busy trailing your soft skin.

"sam?"

"missed you" he finally mumbles like it's eating him alive, like it's the only thing he's feeling. well, except for lust.

his fingertips dig in your ass again, this time hard enough to let a small moan escape your parted lips and sam almost looses his mind. you can hear him inhale through gritted teeth, a hushed "fuck" leaving his breath.

"missed you too." you whisper.

"fuck i'd let u do anything if u were here rn."

would you?

"get on your stomach." he urges. his voice is quiet, almost casual, but you can feel the command in it.

"what-"

"on your stomach." he doesn't even let you finish your sentence.

you've never seen him act like this before. sure sam likes rough sex as much as he likes it soft and slow. he loves control, domination, loves having you under his mercy. but this time, it feels unusual. just his presence alone feels different. it's almost like possession.

and, jesus, it makes you so nervous but it sends heat right to your core.

you did as he said. on your stomach, your elbows on the bed. and somewhere along the rustling of the sheets, you heard his shirt and jeans hit the bedroom floor.

you can feel him move behind you, then his knees digging in the sheets near your thighs, trapping you under him. his movements are fast and your half-asleep mind can barely keep up with it.

his breaths are deep, shaky and god it makes your own breathing tremble.

his hands find your waist under the shirt and you shiver at his touch. it feels so possessive, like he's telling you "you're only mine" without ever needing to say it.

and you are. you are only his. it's like your body has only ever known sam, the way it reacts to his touch, his words. he can have you begging for him just under a minute.

"fuck, you're so beautiful like this." he says, as he trails his fingers on the soft skin of your waist, back, hips, everywhere he wants to touch and you let him.

sam closes the gap between your bodies, his chest resting on your clothed back and you can feel his erection perfectly on your ass. he's so hard, long and thick, you bet he's already leaking too. god, your mouth fills with saliva just from imagining it alone.

he mouths at the back of your neck, all teeth and tongue, leaving traces of saliva near your shoulder. you can feel his hot breaths near your ear and the whispered curses when his lips reached your neck, sucking on that sweet spot he knows makes you lose your mind

and you're so responsive to him, soft moans leaving your pretty lips, your fingers shaking, gripping the sheets. your back arches instinctively, his clothed dick fitting perfectly between your cheeks.

and suddenly, he stills. you've never felt him still this fast. his breaths grew more erratic, fast and hot. your pulse quickly elevated, your own movements freezing.

"sam?-" you softly called out but it was cut off by your own gasp. in a fast motion sam had grabbed both of your arms and pinned them to your lower back.

"you don't move a finger until i tell you to" he urges instantly, voice sharp, demanding, "don't make me order you." his tone gets even lower, laced with... threat?

whatever it was, it was for sure ruining your cotton shorts with arousal.

his other hand finds the back of your head, grabbing your hair in a tight, firm grip and raising your head from the pillows.

"do you understand?" he says as his lips reaches your ear, his hot breaths sending a shiver down your spine.

you can barely breathe, barely speak, your mind short-circuiting from just his voice alone. a small nod and a moaned out "yes" is all you can manage.

"good" he breathes out and you don't even have to look at his face to know he has that devilish smirk that drives you insane. his hand lets go of your hair, your face falling back in the pillows, moving from the back of your neck to your ass. there's a sharp inhale behind you before his fingers dig in your flesh once again.

"open your legs f'me" he says and just his tone alone makes you whimper.

you do ask he asks. spread your legs wider. and sam doesn't even waste a second to trail his hand between them. his fingers find your clothed core, that wet spot formed on your cotton shorts. you shiver at the contact, even with the fabric separating you, it makes sparks run through your body.

you turn your head to the side, your hair still covering your face. now your whimpers were not muffled by the pillow and sam is going to lose his mind.

"sam- please" your breathing is shaky, "i need you." you confessed.

yeah sam has definitely lost it.

his fingers quickly remove themselves from your clothed cunt, only to hook themselves in the waistband of the shorts, quickly discarding it on the floor. along with his boxers.

his hands are trembling when he reaches for his dick, aligning himself between your folds. "you missed me?" he whispers, his voice coming out shakier than he intended.

"i did."

"yeah? how much?" he says as he pushes himself fully inside you.

you almost scream out in surprise. he has always given you at least a second to prepare. but not tonight, jesus, he needed you so much.

"tell me how much you missed me." he whispers in your ear, his hand moving the hair out from your face, to get a good look on your expression. your pinched brows, your mouth shaped in a little o expression.

he starts moving. fast. deep. controlled.

"a lot, sam," you manage to cry out "every single night, i've thought about you."

"be more specific." he commands.

specific like how you spent almost every single night touching yourself to him. your fingers deep inside you, wishing they were his, because you can never go as deep as he can.

how you fantasized about his hips slamming inside you under the sheets, making you legs shake, like he always manages to do, several times in a row.

"i've touched myself thinking about you sam. so many times." you finally confess. and you hear him moan behind you.

"yeah? how did that work out for you?" he knows. he fucking knows. that you can never please yourself in a way sam does. it's like he knows your own body better than you do. what makes you moan, shiver, come.

"it didn't. i couldn't-" you choke on your words. god, he's so impossibly deep inside you, it makes your brain go dumb.

his hand finds your hair again, grabbing it in a tight grip, raising your face up. "you couldn't what, baby?" his breath is hot on your skin, his tone is soft, but his movements are far from that.

"i couldn't finish sam-" you finally confess. "i never can. without you."

a deep, guttural sound leaves his lips at that. his other hand moves to your shoulder, keeping you pinned to the mattress, your hair not leaving his tight, painful grip.

his speed increases, and so do your moans. your hands fly to desperately claw at the sheets, pillows, anything, as his dick is repeatedly hitting that spongey spot inside you.

"you wanted me like this, baby?" he hisses "you missed me fuckin' you like this, huh?"

the bed is starting to creak beneath you and you feel yourself tightening around him, your gummy walls almost swallowing his dick. a moaned out "yeah" is all you can manage.

"so take it- fuckin' take it."

your orgasm hits you instantly. your hands still gripping the sheets, legs shaky, eyes closed shut. you're tightening around him and, god, sam can't hold back any longer.

two more thrusts and he spills inside you. hot, deep, loud with his moans.

sam's grip eases up instantly, his heavy body collapsing on top of you.

he's breathing so hard and you can barely manage to take a breath yourself. you're so close to passing out.

after giving both of you a second to recover, he slowly pulls out. his hands find your back again. this time much more gentle. soft.

you feel his lips on your neck, planting loving kisses along your jawline.

sam moves to lay next to you, taking a second to admire your half asleep, fucked-out face. still, you look like the most beautiful girl he's ever seen.

his fingers reach for your face, tucking the stray hairs behind your ear. your flutter your eyes open to take a look at him. he looks so beautiful. rosy cheeks, puppy eyes, a small smile at the corner of his lips. like he didn't just fuck your brains out 2 minutes ago.

"you still with me?" he whispers, as his thumb caresses your cheek.

you simply just nod. talking, moving your limbs feels like too much work.

"worth the wait?" he asks with a small chuckle and you would hit him on his chest if you had the energy. which you don't. so you just smile and mumble out a "mhm."

it's enough for him anyway.

more notes yea i just realized that the smut part didn't really live up to my expectations but whatever maybe i was too horny or tired to function

tags @mostlymarvelgirl @charliesangel67 @videwly @everythingisaspectrum @that-stanford-girlie @wvyik @sequoia-roots @samsswife @multiversefanfics @rxi-pop @southernimpala @filthgf @a-gay-alien @odessabram @firstlyferrari @stonersampilled @iigummysharkii @lunaleah @girlblogger-04 @brainspurvhs @abigolemess @mfstargrll @thesundontshineontheseeyebrows @heapingfern @lavend3rdust @sunnyteume @spac3cowgir1 @bambisbabydollhouse @marlsvii @castielscaplan @sullengirlinterrupted @madelynneb @snowfall--sunrise

[southernimpala]

yum yum YUM

[dontlistentodaisy]

pairing — dean winchester x reader

warning — mentions of blood, car jacking (kind of)🫢

𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒑𝒕.1

you didn’t trust yourself to drive. 

if you had, you would have hot-wired the first car you’d seen and booked it towards sioux falls within minutes of your escape, leaving any and all innocent parties alone and out of this mess, but you were barely in any condition to walk, let alone drive. 

the dim lights flickered overhead in the virtually empty parking lot. you stood in the shadows, blinking slowly as you tried to focus, eyes honing in on each potential prospect. you were running out of time, but knew that you needed to be precise. you needed to be able to defuse the situation if it went south, which wouldn’t be an easy feat in your state. 

twenty minutes in, your eyes trained on a young man who was maybe in his early twenties, lanky in stature and clearly a man who had yet to put much thought into checking his surroundings. you were next to him within seconds, hand taking a hold of the top of the driver’s side door he’d pulled open. he took in a sharp breath, jumping slightly, and immediately cowering away as he turned to look at you. 

you were a vision—the sight of you absolutely unforgettable, alright. 

you were covered in blood and bruises, eyes sharp and focused. no kind smiles or placating greetings. just dripping blood, hard stares, and blind determination. you looked terrible, yet menacing, and the boy you’d singled out began to shake in fear under your gaze. 

“i don’t want to hurt you. i just need a ride.”

taglist ♡ @theofficerfriendly00

[southernimpala]

cant wait for this lil series <33

[ohangeleyes]

✶ notary nsfw content. hello world.... i am back with a small drabble that i wrote in 10 minutes before i upload my long ahh fic

sam winchester is the most respectful, polite and soft spoken man you've ever met. the one you would be proud to introduce to your parents. but behind closed doors? he can be a fucking menace.

your high-pitched whimpers are filling the impala. hands clawing at his arms, his hair, abs, almost everywhere, as sam's on top of you pounding himself into you so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

your parents think you're on a movie date. i mean, he showed up on your doorstep with flowers and puppy eyes, who would not believe him? who would think that he would have you begging for mercy for an hour straight?

the windows are getting fogged up, your body is probably on it's 10th orgasm, but sam is nowhere close to stopping.

"sam-" you choke on a moan, because sam is choking you himself. his hand is tight around your throat, just enough for your world and senses to narrow to only him and nothing else. and it's working. your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, you're seeing white, you almost can't breathe but it all just feels so good.

he leans down to capture your lips into another messy kiss, filled with tongue, spit and desire. you struggle to kiss him back, because you just can't seem to stop moaning.

"look at me" he says between his own groans and whimpers.

you try. you really try to. but it's all just too much. too much pleasure. your body's almost gone numb.

"fuckin' look at me or i'll stop" he urges now, just with a hint of desperation.

that's when you got desperate. "no- please" you whimpered, fluttering your eyes open.

and god, he has never looked better. sweaty, rosy cheeks, eyes filled with lust and desire. but then a small smirk appeared on his face and before you could register anything, his second hand wraps around your throat too and he starts rocking his hips impossibly fast inside you.

jesus, he really is a menace.

tags @mostlymarvelgirl @charliesangel67 @videwly @everythingisaspectrum @that-stanford-girlie @wvyik @sequoia-roots @samsswife @multiversefanfics  @rxi-pop @southernimpala @filthgf @a-gay-alien @odessabram @firstlyferrari @stonersampilled @iigummysharkii @lunaleah @girlblogger-04 @brainspurvhs @abigolemess @mfstargrll @thesundontshineontheseeyebrows  @heapingfern @lavend3rdust @sunnyteume @spac3cowgir1 @bambisbabydollhouse  @marlsvii @castielscaplan @sullengirlinterrupted @madelynneb

[southernimpala]

MY GIRL IS FUCKUN BACK

[southernimpala]

On the back seat and front seat, Sam Winchester fanfics could you make a part 3?

ooo i wasn’t planning on it but maybe??? perhaps a smut? 👀

[violained]

down from the sun

summary sam loves your messages. he thinks he might love you, too. content gn!reader, friends with mutual big loser crushes!! soft sweetness, morning texts with sam, use of honey but in a very secretly yearning way because sam adores reader very much!

Sam likes his morning routine. Not so much the earliness of it all, but he can't deny that it's pretty outside when the world is just waking up with him. Pale blue that billows through the windows and a chill that rattles under his skin, it makes him zip his brown hoodie before hoisting his duffel from the floor.

He always organizes it before hitting the road, when Dean is still asleep in the bed over and unable to slow him down. All the necessities, his bound journal and two B-grade pencils because he likes how smooth they are, wired earbuds that he untangles with care. Fingers a little slow and still fuzzy from having been pressed between his pillow and cheek while sleeping.

Fix his hair in the small, chipped mirror. Brush his teeth. Splash cold water over his face and watch quietly as it drips from his chin and back into the sink, down the drain, feeling like a big zombie.

His favorite part comes after everything else. When his phone buzzes, and buzzes again, he smiles big and plops onto the edge of the bed to scroll through his Motorola.

Messages from you pop up in quick sequence.

Look at this!!!

Attachment 1: History of the Daeva

I thought you might liek this because it's all about those shadow spirits

and you were talking about needing to research them!

**like sorry haha

Attachment 2: Daeva - Origin and Myths

Oh, he doesn't know how you do it. But his heart feels all happy, honeyed and thrumming in his chest. The cheap chill of the room dissipates and he glances at Dean's sleeping form before his thumbs move.

These are really helpful. Thank you :)

How'd you sleep ?

He feels a little silly asking. Should he have? Does it read in a creepy way? He really hopes not, because he's very fond of you and doesn't want to freak you out, he just cares. A lot. More than he maybe should so early in a friendship.

Three minutes are spent with his palms clamming and swiping against the thighs of his jeans, hoping that his brother doesn't wake yet to see his fluster. Three minutes spent thinking of what you might be doing, three minutes spent worrying if you aren't going to respond before his nerves worsen.

He imagines you making breakfast, humming along to your music in the pretty, soft way that makes his head feel light on his shoulders. Maybe you dance when you're alone, he'd like to think that you do and his cheeks ache from how giddy his grin is.

A little nervous, as he swallows. A lot relieved when his pager tickles with another buzz against his knee.

I slept good!! how about you?

Did you check out the articles?

I'm glad you think they're helpful haha

I have more I can send :] only if you'd like

Sam isn't so zombie-like anymore. If anyone were to ask, he'd say he feels super alive. Then he'd duck his face away to hide the rose that he's sure has blossomed there. It burns in swaths over the curve of his nose.

I'd love some more.

And I slept good, I'm glad you did too

Are we still meeting up tomorrow? No pressure, just checking

There's no time for his anxiety to creep in, you respond quick.

Attachment 3: Zoroastrian Mythology

Oh, here's another one haha

Yes!! I'm looking forward to seeing you :]

I have a book that's been burning a hole in my pocket

I've been meaning to give it to you!

He smiles, gleeful about you. Adoring of your nerdiness and shyness and the way you use emoticons. Happy to have a friend, happier it's you.

That's really nice, I'm excited too :)

Keep sending me those articles, please

They're really cool.

Talk later, honey.

requested ♡ masterlist

[southernimpala]

this is so warm and fuzzy UGH

[southernimpala]

wordcount ⤷ 2.7k ,, smut !!

˚࿔♱ back to the beginning

˚࿔♱ past season

spring comes in the form of rain, blossoming flower trails, and cool sunshine. amber rays thread through the lace curtains in your bedroom—the same room you’ve had since moving in with your uncle all those years ago. the same room that remembers your cries the night sam winchester left you. 

dean carried you out of termite estate that night—“so you don’t sink into the snow,”—he’d said, but you know it’s so you wouldn’t have to walk next to his brother. over dean’s shoulder, you remember sam’s head hanging low, with his hand coming up to wipe at his face often enough for you to know he was crying. body trembling like he committed a sin against god himself.

he left when the snow ploughs cleared a path for him the next morning. a part of you is glad he hadn’t found you to say good bye. you’re sure he would’ve left with a black eye and a torn shirt if he had. 

sam winchester took everything from you. 

but still, after five years, you can still feel his touch on your skin.  

when you aren’t hunting, you work at a dive bar part time. dean calls a few times a year, never mentioning sam. he says it’s to make sure you’re still alive, but you know he knows if anything happened to you, bobby would tell him. you think it’s because you remind him of his brother, and that realization hurts more than you care to admit. 

your souls fucking intertwined. they weaved together that night just for dean to walk in and hand sam the scissors. 

and god, did he cut too deep. 

 the wound hemorrhaged, then slowly bled, then stung, ached, then began to scab. you pick at it when you’ve had a few too many—a number that would put even bobby to shame. or when you’re in bed with a familiar ache between your legs you know only sam can subside. 

snowy nights are when you pick so hard it bleeds again. luckily this year, south dakota didn’t get too many of those. 

but now, the words “john winchester is dead—the boys are home” leaving bobby’s mouth over the phone ten minutes before your shift ends rips the skin apart. 

you imagine what he looks like now. expensive cologne, maybe? slicked back hair, a suit and tie, too. he probably smells like college textbooks and frat parties, or maybe skanky sorority-girl perfume. the picture your brain paints is rotten and makes you ill, nausea swarming in your stomach the entire ride home in the beater car bobby lets you use. 

the same one he drove you to the fair in. you try to ignore the ticket that permanently resides in the center console cup holders. 

john’s impala is completely wrecked in bobby’s lot, the lights are on in the house, and vomit gets swallowed back in your stomach. 

he’s in there, you repeat to yourself. he’s in there and he’s so different. 

 your scars still linger. your clothes are still blood matted. you still have a hunt lined up next week and he probably has a test to study for. 

it’s this fire—this anger—that fuels your drive to get out of the car and drag your feet to the front step, swinging the door open so hard, it almost flies off its hinges. 

inside, bobby is against the fridge, nursing a beer like always. dean winchester stands beside him, arms folded with eyes that have aged a decade. 

and he is sitting at the table, arms crossed, purple bruises blooming like spring flowers on his face. 

well, you were wrong. 

how?

dean turns around when bobby nods at you, his face brightening almost instantly. 

he breathes your name in relief, striding up to you with burly arms that wrap tight around your shoulders, “been a while there, huh?”

you swallow against the thickness in your throat, shutting your eyes when you feel sam looking at you, “too long.” 

dean pulls back, squeezing your forearm like he knows how much strength it’s taking to even stand upright. 

sam can’t take his eyes off of you. you try to look anywhere but him. 

“what, um…” you try to find the right words, “what happened?”

you aren’t sure if you're asking about their father or why sam winchester isn’t in the middle of an exam. 

“car accident,” dean answers too quickly, too monotone. “dad took the force of it.” 

from the corner of your eye, you see sam bite his cheek and run a stressed hand through his hair—still brown and soft looking, with fringe that still hangs across his forehead. the sight sends a shiver down your spine. 

he’s wearing his same carhartt that’s probably hiding bigger biceps now. he’s missing the suit and tie and lighter fluid, dirt, and that rain soap he always swore by are in place of whatever bimbo perfume you were expecting. 

he looks like your sam. you can almost forget the time between you.

dean must follow your gaze to his brother because he says, “sammy… he’s uh—he’s back hunting now. has been for the past year.” 

of course you wouldn’t know—you told everyone never to utter the name sam winchester to you unless he was dead. questions topple over themselves in your brain, but you try not to let the suddenness of his return to hunting—and to you—show. 

“what happened to college,” you quip, words tumbling from your mouth without warrant.

sam laughs, but it’s snark, “didn’t work out.” 

your heart tugs, like it yearns to be close to him. you’re so far away, and the last time you’d seen him, you were both naked and breathless beside each other. its whiplash how much has changed; how in this moment, he seems farther than he ever was in california. 

 bobby finally perks up, finishing the last of his bottle, “the boys’ll be fixin’ the impala here for a while.”

your stomach drops at that, but you try not to let it show on your face, “if they still know anything about fixing cars, they’ll be gone in a few years.” 

dean huffs a laugh, “you’re snarkier than i remember.” 

you send a crooked smile and pray dean knows who it’s for, “it’s been a while.” 

when sam’s face goes slack, and his fingers start to fidget in his lap, you know he got the message. 

2:00 A.M. creeps on your old alarm clock quicker than it ever has. your sheets are stifling, blankets thrown on the floor and no cold side of the pillow to relieve the sweat. you’ve been tossing and turning for hours, the moonlight serving as your only source of comfort as it streams through the window pane. 

how can you sleep when sam winchester is in the next room? 

finally, you surrender to insomnia, opting to sit up and stare at the ceiling with a million thoughts racing through your brain. thoughts you haven’t been able to let linger without suffering the hurt of them. 

what sam’s lips feel like as they press against yours. 

how fucking painful it was watching him cower in that taxi that morning. 

how cold it was that night you slept alone. 

what sam feels like inside of you. 

what— 

your name is whispered behind your bedroom door, so softly you only catch it because the voice it’s from is one you can never tune out. 

“i know you’re awake.” 

your skin burns impossibly hotter.

“go away.” 

“no.” 

you drag your hand down your face and keep it there when sam twists the knob, door creaking open. his shadow stands in the doorway, shirtless in sleep pants that hang too low on his waist to not catch your eye. 

he’s bigger. burlier. dean wasn’t lying when he said he’s been hunting for the past year. 

“you can’t pretend you don’t hate me.” 

you scoff, “i wasn’t planning on pretending.”

he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, looking off into the moonlight, and your core clenches. 

“it’s late, you need to—” 

“i have spent every day for the past five years regretting everything that happened.” 

your face falls, heart thumping so fast you think it’ll stop any moment. 

“i regret not telling you. i regret making you think i was safe. i regret—” he heaves something bordering a laugh and a sob, “i regret what i took from you that night.” 

you fumble with your hands in your lap, unable to look up in fear the tears pooling in your eyes will spill over and you’ll feel just as weak as you did that night. 

“sam…” you shudder, trying to keep your voice stable, “it’s over, just—” 

“i was scared,” he whines, bending down at your bedside, gripping the sticky sheets in between his fists like what he’s confessing physically pains him, “i needed to leave, i had to. dad was killing me.” 

“and that wasn’t gonna change because you said you loved me,” you say bitterly, sniffling, “or because you fucked me.” 

“don’t say it like that,” he defends, voice strong, “it wasn’t like that.” 

“wasn’t it, though?” you snivel, wiping your nose with the back of your hand, “you got what you wanted and you left.” 

sam looks down and a tear splatters on the hardwood. your chest aches. 

“why did you leave college, sam?” you ask quietly after a moment of composure, “you got what we wanted, you got out.”

he’s silent. then confesses, “i lost someone,” he gulps, “i lost jess.”

jess. a shot of envy is injected into your body even as every moral screams at you that it’s wrong. 

“but, when i lost her i realized it didn’t hurt as much as when i lost you.” 

suddenly, sam stands, pacing back and forth with a hand over his mouth in a panic you’ve never seen. his chest heaves for breath, his face goes the color of chalk. 

“fuck—she fucking died, and i couldn’t get you out of my head.” 

“sam—” you peel yourself off the bed, striding slowly toward him. 

“tell me everything is gone,” he bursts, taking your face in his hand. his touch feels like fire. your body melts. “tell me you don’t feel anything for me anymore.” 

your mouth gaps but no sound comes out. 

“tell me you hate me, tell me you want me gone, tell me i hurt you so bad you can’t forgive me, please.” 

the wound is spilling, yet somehow, you can’t bring yourself to tell him any of it. 

“i—i can’t.” 

you’re all too aware of his palm against your cheek. of his body now pressed against yours. of the tears glistening off the tip of his nose. 

sam’s rapid breath fans across your face, chest rising and falling. 

“for five years, i convinced myself all of that was true,” you start shakily, “and—and maybe it is, but, i can’t tell you any of it.” 

he breaks, pressing his forehead to yours. he snivels a sob, and everything he’s lost—jess, his father, his innocence, you—comes to wrap it’s tight fist around his heart and squeeze so hard, he thinks he’ll die right here. in your arms. 

you swallow the whisper of your name that leaves his mouth when you take his lips in yours. they’re still so soft, and plump with emotion as you let your tongue drag across them. he opens to you instantly, gripping you hard under your thighs to hoist you around his waist. 

he carries you to the bed,  hands moving to peel your shirt over your head, running every callous down your body—across the canvas he’s been aching to touch again. 

he huffs a lustful breath, “still so beautiful.” 

you fumble with the tie of his sweatpants in response, and he obliges, tugging them down as he nips and sucks at every sweet spot on your neck. you grow weaker at the fact that he remembers where they are, and almost collapse when you find he’s impossibly larger than before. straining to be inside you after all these years. 

when your sleep shorts are peeled off, the pads of fingers find their spot against your wetness, core slick with every sinful thought you’ve envisioned of him against your will since he’s been gone. your clit jumps when he touches you, rubbing soft circles while he swallows every moan.

“tha f-feels good,” you breathe, his bucking into his hand. 

“you like that?” he asks huskily, teasing your slit with his index finger. 

you nod rapidly, whining, “need you.” 

the feeling of him inside of you again squashes any pathetic thought you have about what you’re doing. him, hovering over you like that night, pushing inside so softly like an apology he cannot speak with his mouth. sam’s head is buried in the nape of your neck, lips open with warm breath fanning your shoulder. 

“god, i missed you,” he huffs, a groan escaping when you clench around him, “been—fuck, been dreaming about this.” 

a part of your heart burns. he’s the one that left. he’s the one that came back. and who knows if he would’ve if jess hadn’t— 

but then he pulls back, eyes interlocking like two pieces of thread knotting together, hazel eyes glowing in the bright moonlight infiltrating through the curtains, with that same, fucking twinkle. 

the love that you felt that night, and every moment where you yearned for that feeling again. 

his body feels so heavy and perfect against yours, and when he picks up speed, thrusting into you harder, with his thumbs imprinting into your waist, he never loses eye contact. keeps his mouth parted so you can swallow every moan that escapes.

sam lifts your hips easily, angling you just right to slam against the soft, spongy part your fingers can’t reach. you burst, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his lips come to trail along your exposed neck. every nerve explodes, pussy clamping down around him, mumbles of i love you and fuck, sam, you’re so good dripping.   

you can tell he’s about to cum—you remember everything. the trembling hands, the onslaught of sounds spilling from his tongue that he can’t even try to control, the pulsing you feel against your walls. 

you never want this moment to end. here, wrapped in sheets, the still of the night surrounding you. 

you wrap your arms around his neck, grinding against him as his thrusts start to stutter. 

“f-fuck—if you keep doing that i’m gonna cum,” he whines, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. 

his words nearly send you over the edge, hands roaming over his pecks and down the crevices of his abs, “i want you to,” you whisper, memorizing every bump, every freckle like you never wanna lose sight of them again. 

he listens. does as you say. like he’s making up for every time he hasn’t. 

warmth floods your core as he finishes, head falling against your sweaty chest as he slowly rides out his high. his arms shake from when they were holding himself upright, but now he collapses. can finally rest against you. 

awareness suddenly becomes a curse. you can feel everything now—not just him. the sheets beneath you as they crumple and itch. the creak in the house as a strong gust of wind crashes. crickets sounding from the open crack in the window. sweat hot between your bodies. 

sam winchester’s body. 

“i meant it then and i mean it now,” he murmurs, lips slick against your breast. his eyes are open—eyelashes feathering your skin as he blinks, “i love you.” 

sam suddenly picks his head up to look at you, searching your face for any sign that this isn’t what you want. 

it’s never been something you didn’t want. 

“i’m gonna do everything i can to prove that to you,” he lifts your hand, placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles that elicit burns in your nose and eyes, “don’t care if it takes a week—” kiss “a month—” kiss “a year—” he reaches to wipe a tear you haven’t realized fell, “i’ll be by your side, always.”

since we were kids, you wanna say, but you know he already knows that. 

you nod, sniffling back emotion whilst bringing his head to yours, pressing kisses to his lips, “i love you, sam.” 

maybe it will take a week. or a month. or a year. perhaps tomorrow, you’ll be angry again. or sad. or yearning to know about the life he lived without you. 

but, here, this moment, is bliss.

from the author ⤷ last part !! thank you all so so much for the love on my lil self indulgence mini series ! i've had this idea for so long and finally found the time to vomit this out between uni and writers block and blah blah blah but i hope you enjoyed and i can't wait to post more soon ! :)

also, mia writing and uploading within a week !? unheard of !

tags ♱ @filthgf , @sacr1ficialang3l , @ohangeleyes , @dontlistentodaisy , @andmeiamherdagger , @sploosh805 , @heartoftragedy , @aseafullofstars , @s0urw00lf , @marlsvii , @spectralgalaxygauntlet , @nayspy (if you'd like to be added, let me know !)