#fem!sam

[creekmud]

she is my fem sam winchester

[hellhoundsprey]

happy ww! what is your fem!sam boob headcanon?

[flowers-in-your-basement]

(fem!Sam samjohn+Wincest)( dark, guys I don't know what has gotten into me.

some things will always be hard to deal with, some things will always hurt down to the bone. Sam sits down on the couch, whiskey breath on her face, brother way to close for any other family, and it's just normal.

He always starts the same way, just touching, angry slurring. Then he always takes more, groping, squeezing, hurting. It only hurts when he goes too fast, drunker than normal. Today is a good day, quiet pleas for forgiveness, gentle squeezes of her breasts, only A cups and dean always makes fun of her for it. Now he isn't making fun. Now he's telling her that he always liked them, wanted this since she was a kid. No point in telling him she's still a kid.

The first time she had to get an abortion, 13 and scared, fake id that was so obvious, her doctor gave her a number to call, if she needed help. Now they use condoms.

john uses the same ones too, just because they're in the house, probably wouldn't use anything if they didn't have them. He always starts the same way too, always drunk, always apologizing. Always "you look so much like your mother" as if he didn't say that the first time and the last, everytime in between too, if that matters. He's always more gentle, makes it hurt less. It feels worse though, because what kinda freak gets off on their dad fucking them?

It's just another day in Sam's life, and the cracks in her bones are just a bit deeper as she sits on the couch, ignoring the pain of her brother.

[wastemanjohn]

always female sam sharing a bed with dean and while spooning, dean grinds on her in his sleep so sam pulls her underwear aside and lets dean rub up against her and oops she's getting fucked by her sleeping brother now. maybe also he wakes up right before or as he cums and keeps going but pretends he didn't wake up?

<3 thanks so much for this anon, the way this has been on my mind CONSTANTLY. i'm afraid i got so excited i didn't see the "spooning" part so it starts a little differently than your prompt but i hope this is still okay!

cw: explicit, implied past underage, consent issues

Sam's not been sleeping great. Not that she ever sleeps great, or even the much more achievable well - not with the memory of her girlfriend's melting face popping up in excruciating detail every time she closes her eyes, anyway. Not with the constant niggle of worry, no, frustration, with Dad and his unknown whereabouts - yeah, neither of these things make for ideal, eight-hour rest conditions. They're not exactly lavender oil on her pillow.

And Dean - well, Dean is the furthest thing from lavender oil. From any kind of peace at all.

Sam's lying with her back to her brother, glaring at the fuzzy dark shape of the motel room's divider. Dean's latest spell of rumbling snores show no sign of letting up any time soon, and he's hogging half of the lower portion of the comforter between his tangled legs. If Sam tries to tug some away for herself, Dean huffs indignantly the way he does when she tries to get ahold of his car keys, until Sam clicks her tongue and gives up. Even when he's not tossing and fidgeting, he's spreading his stupid body out, encroaching on what is definitely Sam's side of the bed. Burned alive girlfriends and missing fathers aside, anyone would be hard pressed to drift off while sharing a bed with a 6'2 hunter with all the sleeping prowess of a spoiled toddler.

Sam makes another fruitless tug at the comforter. Another attempt at closing her eyes. The thing is, since Dean's "death", their little flirtations with felony fraud have had to take a backseat. Money's tight. It's Spaghetti-O's for dinner tight. It's hole up in places with cockroaches in the bath tight. It's share a bed, or get cozy on the floor tight. And it fucking sucks.

Although, Sam can't help but think, something about it is weirdly nostalgic. Money was tight more often than not growing up, and when Dad went off on work for weeks at a time she was quite often stuck bunking with Dean, enduring his nocturnal antics. She feels like she's sixteen again, what with that familiar, unwashed-head smell of the pillows. What with lying awake, worrying about Dad. It's as if she never left, sometimes. As if the last four years never happened at all.

And with that nostalgia, comes Sam's muscle memory - she drives her elbow into Dean's ribs without really thinking about it as he starts getting too close to her side of the bed again. He grunts indignantly, but mercifully fucks off. He rolls onto his back. A moment of silence; then that snoring starts up again. With a vengeance, like retaliation for the elbow.

Sam sighs, loud, pointed, pissed; rustles the sheets for good measure. Grimaces into the darkness. Her mind is so loud.

The thing is, it's been months. They're no hotter on Dad's trail than they were the night Sam left California behind for good. Dad probably doesn't even want to see her, what with the way things were left four years ago; but fuck, Sam's dying to see him. Dying to - is that really how lonely she feels tonight? Or is it Dad being one of the only two people she has left, knowing it, and still not fucking showing up?

Anger creeps through her. God, now's not the time for this. No wonder you can't sleep.

She takes a breath, like Jess taught her, deep into her lungs, manage the anger; and maybe Sam does drift off for a short time, to those thoughts. Those lonely-Dad-Jess thoughts. And she must've fallen asleep, even lightly, even a little, for that firm grip around her waist to startle her back to alertness.

Her instincts sneak up on her. The spark of adrenaline, readiness for a fight - hand halfway under her pillow for her knife - until she realizes. Remembers.

Dean. Just Dean.

Dean grunts; that arm tightens around her waist, as if to tell her that it's alright. Sam relaxes a bit. Too easily.

She can feel the length of Dean's body, curled around hers like putty; the furnace-like warmth of his bare chest, the thighs half-entwined with hers. His breath hot and a little erratic on the back of her neck. His foot feels cool on her bare calve.

He's hard. Sam can feel the outline of his dick as he presses all insistent against her ass; rolls his hips, does it again. Grunts, deep, satisfied.

Sam's sex drive has been non-existent the last few months. But that grunt - Sam hasn't heard Dean make that noise in a long time.

And this is nostalgic, alright. Sam doesn't remember when it started, exactly; just that she never felt all that differently than she does tonight, when she was fifteen or so, disconnected, alone, living in a world no one else seemed to understand. Dean lived in the same world on paper, but it was different for him. Guys were afraid of him; no one messed with him. Girls dropped their panties for a smile and a few flirty words, spellbound by his wild charms.

Sam, though - people messed with Sam a lot. Boys never looked at her twice, back then. Dad - confusing, distant, absent, Dad - well, that made her feel the most alone of all. Along with Dean spending every night in the backseat of the Impala with a different bar skank, of course. Bragging about it when he got home, flushed and grinning, lipstick on his neck, perfume on his shirt. God, Sam wanted to kill those girls. She wanted to kneel on their chests and wrap her hands around their throats and revel in the moment the light in their eyes went out. It scared her, didn't stop her thinking it.

This, though - this never scared her. What Dean did, sometimes, in the dark. In his sleep. And sure, he never did it when he was awake - but it was something. Something that felt good; something that some part of him was willing to give her, even if it wasn't conscious, even if it wasn't much. And hell, Sam didn't have much in life that made her feel good.

And - nostalgia, muscle memory - when Sam's sure Dean's grinding has dislodged his boxers, she hikes up her oversized sleep t-shirt. Tilts her hips back. Reaches between her legs to push aside her panties. She lets Dean keep grinding, those hot-grunt puffs of air on the nape of her neck; shuffles, scoots around awkwardly, until the angle is just right. Until she feels his bare, slick head right where it needs to be.

Dean, with only his downstairs brain active, is eager. He fills her up with one quick, clumsy thrust. Knocks the breath out of her.

It hurts, it's been a while, she's not quite wet enough to take all of him at once like that; but Sam can manage a little pain, feeling something, anything, is good, better than before. She bends her knee, draws her leg up to her chest to give Dean better access; he takes it. Takes ahold of her hip, moving into it as natural as he always did; and Sam turns her head, bites down on the edge of her musty pillow to keep herself quiet.

Just like old times. And, just like old times, it's - nice. Comforting, to feel full like this, touched like this. To feel the brother she once thought she'd never see again close, close like this.

It's been a while, since Sam has felt comforted, touched, close.

She huffs around the pillow. Trails a hand down her body, shudders for it; flesh hums beneath her t-shirt. Her cunt feels hot inside her panties, and her clit is slick and ready for her touch. It feels - fuck.

Her hair is in her face; her fingers grab a handful of pilled sheet as Dean starts moving faster. The clumsy, jabbing motions of his cock, giving her no choice but to open for him; his grunts and sighs, sounding a little delirious; that scorch-hot breath, that grip tight enough on her hip to smart a little. Sam feels kinda stripped of control, kinda used. And it's not a bad feeling; so she lets go. Drifts into it. Drifts into her body, the things it can do, feel. Rides it, as that burning, too-full sensation gives way to something much nicer. Something simple, the most uncomplicated pleasure there is.

Maybe it's the moan she can't hold in; or maybe Dean can feel it too. Either way, Sam can tell; sense it in her own body, the moment he wakes up.

She remembers this part; the way his satisfied grunts taper off, give way to heavy, confused breaths. The way Dean stills inside her, his body going rigid against hers. Disoriented. In a little shock, like this has never happened before, or something; and Sam's never sure if Dean would really stop, given the chance. But again, that muscle memory - she reaches around to grab his wrist. Squeeze, hard - don't you fucking dare.

Dean gets the message. And Sam remembers, now; remembers how Dean would go all lax against her, like he was trying to give the impression he was still asleep; lax, apart from his hips, the rhythm that wouldn't let up, doesn't now. She remembers how, because Dean is meant to be sleeping, he'll let Sam move that arm of his, move it until his hand is cupping her tit just right; and even though he's meant to be fucking asleep, Dean's fingers will close greedily around it anyway. Squeeze, even, as those thrusts get faster, erratic, those grunts choked like he's dying; and Sam even remembers how to angle her hips just right so she can come on Dean's cock, just in time, before Dean growls, one last jerk of his hips, before she feels his release flush inside her. She can feel the strip of his teeth against her shoulder where his mouth is open, and she presses up into it, tilts her head back, eyes closed, fleeting burst of ecstasy; and if this were something else, something different, then maybe they would kiss now. But this isn't that. God knows what it is, but it was never that.

That's okay. It needs to be okay.

They're still for a moment or two. Sam catches her breath, listens, in the dark, to Dean doing the same; waits, to see if the next part will be the way she remembers too. And it pans out pretty much the same; Dean's hand falls away from her tit. He pulls out of her almost as fast as he'd pushed in. Sam feels the ghost of his breath on the nape of her neck one last time, before Dean rolls over, away. Without a word.

Sam listens to his breaths slow down in the darkness. It's a while - really quite some time - before his snoring starts up again.

It's around this time that Sam realizes she hasn't moved. Hand still in her panties, body rooted to the mattress; Dean's come inside her, warm, sticky, a thin trail starting to leak out down her thigh. Not good; there's always a little anxiety about that. But Sam's never heard of a guy who can put on a rubber in his sleep, so it is what is is.

She licks her dry lips. It's getting light outside. Somewhere must be open for breakfast.

She slips out of bed quietly, not wanting to wake Dean this time; heads for the shower. Thinks about finding coffee, about getting a few hours of research in before the day starts. Because that's all she can do, really, for now. All she can do until the world wakes up again.

[kirathehyrulian]

Non-Challenge Art: 🔥🏚️Cinnamon Dust🏚️🔥

(Please do not edit/alter. Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost. At the very least, please give me credit.)

Description: Female Lucifer!Sam dressed in a white wedding dress and rose flower crown with lace veil, holding a bouquet, standing on a cliff edge above a dilapidated burning city.

(For better viewing on desktop, click the image, then right click the enlarged image, and then click “open image in new tab”.)

For more stuff from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr or my AO3.

👇( wip screenshots and notes below the cut) 👇

For more detailed notes: [AO3 link]

Art Notes: For a long while I've wanted to try my hand at female Sam. So, I started this attempt last year in early November and worked on it till late December. Then I just couldn't work on it anymore. It wasn't until late June this year that I started feeling hopeful about this work again.

I'm a little worried I might have squashed instead of cultivated my art drive some more, because I struggled to finish this. But oh well. I'm done working on this. I did what I could muster and I accept the end results. I kind of want to make a Female Michael!Dean companion piece... but I don't know how likely that it for me to do.

WIP Screenshots:

Nov 1-Dec 29 then June 19-July 6th. So, 77-ish days working on and off this.

The references I looked at while drawing: Tumblr- Fem!Sam/Jared face app pics Google Images- og Jared/Sam pics Adrianne Palicki pics (mostly the ones with her wearing a red dress) women in wedding dresses holding bouquets women in high heels fire dystopian cities cliff edges

Musical inspiration: Lana Del Rey- Cinnamon Girl Lana Del Rey- Burning Desire Lana Del Rey- Body Electric I Monster- Who is She? Egzod & Maestro Chives - Royalty ft. Neoni Chris Grey - Let The World Burn Indila - Derniere Danse Seven Nation Army (Glitch Mob Remix) // slowed + reverb by Psycor Legends Never Die (Against teh Current) // slowed/reverb by Chewy ft Pixsy Lacrimosa - Slowed and kinda terrifying by Mony PG Rammstein - Sonne [SLOWED] best part by the_phonkface Farben - Orange Sector (slowed to perfection + reverb) by Suei After Dark X Sweater Weather (ultra slowed N reverbed) by OrdinaryVibes

And I think that's everything for now.💀

Enjoy, if you can♥♥♥

[setyourfireonme]

four fem!wincest fic recs (always-a-girl!sam/always-a-girl!dean) for the AU prompt @spnficrecfest

✨💖✨

they'll name a city after us by paxlux (1.7k, T)

It's a blue day, smeared wide just for them, the sky overhead, the shimmer on the road and the wind at their backs.

record skip by las (1.2k, M)

Missing scenes from 'Mystery Spot'. "Love is the least of your problems."

trent reznor, and other things sam has rubbed one to by adastreia (2.7k, E)

It’s good, but good feels like a word ill-applied in this situation. Good is how it feels when Sam gets straight A’s, good is how it feels when Deanna compliments Sam’s aim during shooting practice. This – this is – well, Sam understands why Deanna made such a big deal out of it.

be free from your passion and pride by karaokeburial (3.2k, E)

The month of July always fills the house with a miserable sticky heat that puts everyone in the Winchester household on edge. John can escape it easily enough with a trip to town, thank the Lord. His daughters, left to their own devices in the empty house, find their own way to let off some steam.

[artfromje3per]

My gift for all ✨Fem!Sam Winchester✨

With a dash of trans, muscle, and piercings 🤌

[wallissa]

“Fem!Sam would wear cute workout sets and—“ fem!Sam would wear Dean’s hand me downs which are John’s hand me downs, a switchblade in her Walmart sports bra and lipgloss Dean shoplifted for her.

[doggobrie]

Deana showed her flipping people off and she uses it for perfectly good reasons. (Much to Sam’s annoyance)

[waynesmywife]

you know what i need? more fem!sam pregnant with dean's children. plural. yes. i just want her to be her big brother's child-bearing cumdump tbh

like, can you imagine? because if sam was a girl, he'd totally break the condom when he finds out about stanford so she can never leave

[typinggently]

6.8k words, E rated. fem!Sam, possessive Dean, jealous Dean, Dean is obsessed with Sam, pining, romance, unsafe sex

Posted from the backseat of a car, I bring you a fem!Sam/Dean timeline fic that recounts different moments over the years where Dean is too grossly enamoured with Sammy to keep his mask in place in front of others (and an E rated epilogue). It’s filled with longing! It’s possessive! It was a ton of fun to work on — and it features a polished & expanded scene previously posted on tumblr.

& on the right, we have a detail from a Bruegel landscape painting, where, unseen by fishermen and farmers, Icarus falls into the green-foaming sea. A reminder that personal tragedies can be completely invisible to their witnesses.

🌞🌊Read the fic✨🪽

[unvow]

transfem!sam is so good. i imagine she would still be pretty butch leaning even after coming out and starting e but would get into wearing long skirts and experimenting with perfume. not really crazy about makeup but loves a fruity lip balm. proudly continues the long upheld tradition of transwomen who are good with computers

[fandom-hoarder]

Besssssttttiiiiieeeee

I'm in fem!sam feels, specifically in Free To Be You and Me.

Sammy being on her own, working at some bar in the middle of nowhere, the hunters coming after her.

The part where they're trying to get Sam to drink the blood is automatically 10 times more uncomfortable because of fem!sam.

Omg bestie, the way the rape imagery would be so blatant. Three guys holding her down and forcing her mouth open to put something in!! The rape jokes hunters would make about her being ruined. The "what a waste" comments. (Please, would they stop treating it like a joke if it was fem!Sam???)

Godddddd they would HAVE to give us murderous Dean when he hears about it, right? RIGHT?! 😤😤😤

Please, I need Dean to hear some hunters talking about his demon whore of a sister's mouth when she spit at him, and Dean offer to put a new hole in the guy and then not wait for an answer.

[supernaturalkickparty]

New fic is up! Please mind the tags

Written for the bestie @fandom-hoarder and inspired by ethel cains imagery and music.

[hurricanejane]

Fem!Sam having the same length of hair but fem!Dean's being crazy long so there's hair everywhere getting pulled and wrapped around fingers and getting swept back for better access...

[quietwingsinthesky]

If Sam was a woman would Lucifer *also* be a woman? They didn't mash up male/female in terms of true vessels in the show but I'm not sure if that's intentional in canon or more of a "male default" thing

Anyways

Fem!Lucifer!Nick / Fem!Sam need to fuck nasty on my screen

In my ideal supernatural, lucifer absolutely is a lady if Sam is. I want evil lesbian shit to happen in front of my eyeballs and I need it now.

wait hold on let me make you something. if we can't see this happen on our screens, gotta make it happen ourselves.

The devil really is temptation given form. She's every girl Sam's ever known was a bad idea to follow away from a bar, close-cropped hair and smoker's drawl, thighs that Sam's hands haven't a chance to fit around and a mouth full of promises that make Sam shiver. Lucifer knows how to play her well. Blunt fingernails ghost up Sam's side to the swell of her breast, and Lucifer's teeth drag against her throat. Sam can't tell if that's a threat or a reassurance, if Lucifer wants Sam to know how soft her own skin is or how much restraint Lucifer has. She runs her thumb across Sam's peaked nipple to hear her gasp. Sam bites her lip like she can pretend she doesn't want this if she's quiet enough.

Lucifer knows her better than she knows herself. Her thigh slots between Sam's, pressing down, and Sam doesn't think, only spreads her legs a little wider to let her clit grind against Lucifer. Lucifer squeezes her tit when she feels Sam's core pushing up into her, hot and soaking wet. Sam flushes guiltily, but she can't stop herself. Lucifer nips up her neck, pulling until she feels bruises forming. One of her hands rises, clings to the back of Lucifer's head, slipping through the short strands for any sort of purchase. Lucifer chuckles, her breath tickling Sam's skin. Sam looks down at her. Her hips are still rocking into Lucifer's leg, finding the right angle to drag her clit to ecstasy. Lucifer lets go of her tit to touch Sam's face, tilting it, cupping it. Sam's pussy clenches around nothing, and she wants Lucifer's fingers inside her more than anything.

"Lucifer," she whispers, and Lucifer catches it in her mouth before pulling back.

"Don't say yes yet, Sam. I'm not done enjoying you."