#jared padalecki drabble

[daylighted]

oh em gee i was about to go to sleep but i was js thinking about how baby!reader and sam would also be really close i think

and so maybe one night like during a hunt sam finds baby just like upset cause she’s trying to figure out what a lore book or whatever says and she’s frustrated 1. cause she can’t read it and 2. she doesn’t understand why her eyes are suddenly wet and why she’s feeling this way cause she’s never felt this before

and so sam just like teaches her how to read a little maybe and just helps her understand what she’s feeling and why

IDKKK I JS THOUGHT THAT WAS SO CUTIE

(also trust i know baby is a badass i’m just leaving this thought here (LOVEE YOU AND YOUR WRiTING<3333))

STOP THIS MADE ME GO 🥺 LITERALLY OH MY GOD. i hope i can get this to u before u fall asleep so it can be... ironically ... like a bedtime story :')

and i agree baby is a lil badass so so much and part of that is bc girl feels all of her things SO unapologetically :') !!! so i love this and have been meaning to think more on sam n baby's dynamic too so it is PERFECT.

they were always looking at those books, splayed out on whatever shoddy surface the motel room had. sometimes they had tables shoved into corners, or desks pressed so tightly against a wall that the wallpaper cracked behind it, the little space clearly not equipped for every bit of furniture the owners wanted to cram inside of it.

either way, you'd become aware of the winchesters habits, and that was one of them. a worn and faded leather book beneath one of their big hands, skimming the lines like they'd seen what was in the pages a million times, enough to know where in the book to flip to when they wanted something in particular.

dean went on a food and coffee run after begrudgingly admitting to the fact that this one was going to take all night, and sam decided to jump in the shower while he was gone, leaving you at the desk squished between the wall and the tv stand, one of the books open under your hand.

it was nothing special. inky lines and rough sketches across every page, some things crossed out and others underlined. you'd flipped through the entirety of the book to make sure that this really was all there was to it, and sure enough, there wasn't a deviation. every page had scribbly shapes on it, and every other page a scribbled drawing, and it didn't make any sense.

dean sometimes held the book up on its edge, nose pressed in close like he was trying to read in between what was on the pages, so you tried that, too. you were waiting for something big to happen. that was another thing about the winchesters; looking at one of these leathery things full of paper always led to pieces of whatever case to click together.

nothing clicked. nothing made sense. this was another thing that they shared, something programmed into them that was left out when it came to the making of you, and it was devastating.

you try to breathe in, but your chest catches on it, lips parted as you gasp on it. your throat is tight. your eyes have water in them. all of this at once surely must have meant you were dying, right? you'd breathed normally up until now, and your throat didn't feel like it was closing until now, and your eyes weren't supposed to have water coming out of them, streaming down your cheeks in little rivers, pooling on the desk's warbled surface.

you get up, the catch in your chest only getting worse, banging on the room's bathroom door. sam's shower had stopped running a few minutes ago, so you knew he was in there, either half dressed or holding a plastic thing in his mouth with something foamy on his lips. they did that a lot. helped you do it, too, even though you didn't remember the word for it. how were you supposed to think right now? you were dying.

"sammy?" you ask, and your voice even sounds weaker. you hit the door harder, a little whimper in your throat, terror clawing at the lump like it was trying to break through it. "sammy..."

the door tugs open, sam's tall figure looming over you, a look of concern written into his features. "what's wrong?" it clicks a second after the words leave his mouth, concern half giving way to something sympathetic. "baby."

you keep wiping at your eyes but it keeps coming. "there's something in my throat. and my eyes—" you rub your palms into your eyes, trying to shove the rivers back into the sockets. "they're leaking. they're leaking, they're—"

sam melts further, stepping forward to wrap his arms around you. he's as warm as the bathroom air, slipping through the gapped door he stood in. "you're crying," he says slowly, gently, palm rubbing down your spine, soothing the choke in your voice, "that's alright. nothing's wrong. people cry, sometimes."

that was reassuring, but how were you supposed to get it under control? sure, you weren't dying, but you were a little out of your league, here.

your lack of answer seems to prompt sam to continue, his chin resting on the crown of your head. "what were you doing?" he asks, taking a step backwards to be able to see your face better. "before you started crying. so i can try and fix it, or help, or anything you need."

you point behind you, to the misplaced desk and the stupid leather thing full of useless pages. "i tried to look at it. like you and dean do."

sam nods in understanding, the concern now fully crumbled through and leaving that sympathetic, glimmery look in his eyes.

"it didn't make any sense. i don't know what is in there. it's all just lines and shapes and..." you throw your hands up in frustration, and what do you know? the tears have stopped, and the very familiar feeling of unwarranted fury sits on your tongue. "it is stupid. that thing is unhappy."

the corner of sam's lips quirk. "it can be unhappy." he steps around you, hand on your elbow to easily brush past you. "it's a book. one of dad's. details about the things we hunt on cases."

"books are unhappy."

there was no getting through to you right now, but sam always tried. dean sometimes just got frustrated along with you, but sam always managed to maintain the gentleness that came with trying to teach you the comings and goings of humanity.

he picks the book up and flips through the pages, and you almost see red, knowing that, in that moment, he was doing the exact thing you couldn't. but then he lifts a hand, motioning you to come closer with his finger. "it's unhappy, but it's not gonna bite," sam says, dropping his hand to tug the chair back for you to sit down. you do, though not without the stubborn reluctance. "look at the line at the top."

"no." a puff of angry breath leaves your mouth along with the words. "i already know i do not see what you and dean see. i do not want to start doing the crying again."

sam laughs this time, finger dropping to the line in reference. "it's a sentence. everything on this page is sentences, made up of words that you read." his nail traces the beginning of the page. "that word? wendigo."

your eye is twitching. "i cannot do the read either." you shove his finger out of the way, lifting the book close up to your face. "it looks like loopies and droopies."

"the loopy is a w," he cages you in from behind, one arm on your right side holding him up, the other's index finger back at the word. "words are made of letters. letters are... yeah, for the most part, loopies and droopies."

it sounds silly in sam's mouth, but, whatever. it made sense to you. "the word i told you? wendigo?" he traces beneath the word as he goes, "w-e-n-d-i-g-o."

you stare at it, each piece of the word and then all at once, mouthing the letters to yourself. very fun first word to learn, but that was only one on the whole page, and that was not enough for you. you wanted to understand everything. you hold the book close to your face, again like dean, as you scan over every sentence and word and letter.

sam is patient behind you, and quiet, as he lets you study. you slam the book down, the spine colliding with the wood echoing in the little room. you point at a word in the middle of the page. "when."

forget the loopy in the middle. you saw wen and knew it.

sam pats your shoulder. "yeah, that says when," he reaches up to the desk to close the book, pushing it closer to the rest of books in their pile, "not a very good starting place for learning to read, so we'll do something else later, how about that?"

he pushes it away, so you grab it, palm flat and possessive over the hardcover. "i want this one. i know two words in it already."

"baby, there are words in that book that even i don't know how to say," sam says, giving you that look that he always tends to when, and you quote, you're being a little too bossy. "we'll start with the hotel keycard. or the tv guide. very much easier, and not as scary of a topic."

"but—"

"you are already overwhelmed." his voice is so gentle. him and dean have this way of bottling up all of your intense feelings and condensing them into something more manageable for all three of you. "i don't think you want to cry again tonight, so we're starting slow. with how you're learning, it won't take long until you're up there with me and dean, reading easy and naturally."

your eyes roll. his brighten with amusement. "i just don't want to feel so different and wrong." you meet his gaze, and the amusement has tampered, replaced with a sadness that must be reflected in your own. "you and dean do things all the time that i can't. i want to."

"we'll get you there." sam's words are a solid promise, hand coming up to ruffle the mess of your hair. "but in the meantime, no more crying. you shouldn't want to be like me and dean. you're fine just like this."

even you knew that sounded cheesy. you're about to tell him as such, but he holds up a finger. "we know all of this as easily as we do because we grew up too fast, and too afraid. you don't ever need to be upset that you didn't go through all that we did." he lifts your hand off of the book, using that gentle grip to yank you out of the seat and away from your dried tears on the desktop. "but it's normal. normal to cry, normal to get upset over things you can't do. baby, if you're worried about not fitting in with us because you don't feel human enough, that just makes you even more like us than you think."

you might have asked him about that part, but it seemed a little too invasive. you had some limitations to the endless array of questions you bombarded them both with. instead, you move to stand in front of the tv, staring at it, trying to will it on.

"take it to the tv guide." you nod toward it, eyes narrowing still in your efforts to peer pressure it on. "i want to learn to read the show dean watches."

sam grabs a little rectangle off of the stand, shaking his head. "no. no, you really don't."

notes. tagging everyone in this one bc i am classifying it as an official part^tm in the babyverse hope u dont mind.

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @couturewinx @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @angelicalm3ss @nperoconelcositoarriba

[sunsbaby]

𓍯𓂃 sam winchester x fem!reader | MDNI

it didn't take much convincing on your end for sam to get you in the backseat on his brothers 67' chevy impala fucking yourself on his cock.

"atta girl, i know you can take it..." sam practically growled in your ear as his large hands sprawled out on your ass—gripping the flesh harshly.

his hips thrust up meeting yours as you grind down, whines and moans slip past your swollen lips. you'd been doing this for god knows how long, your legs were almost numb and you were so sensitive, but sam didn't care.

"just give me one more, baby. i know you have it in you, princess." sam cooed, coaxing you with sweet words as his cock bullied your insides.

he would purposely push you down onto his cock, just deep enough for his tip to brush against your cervix. the action pulling a whine from your throat—which was practically raw from how loud he'd made you. the car smelled of sex and leather, the seats drenched with your past orgasms. sam's cock had a pretty white ring around the base. squelching noises echoed through the car. your pretty pussy taking him so well.

"c'mon let go for me, sweet thing.." sam whispered into your ear, his calloused thumb rubbing circles onto your clit.

your mind went blank as a series of incoherent babbles push past your lips. sam helped you slightly, bouncing you on his cock just the way he wanted. your moans got louder and your hands dug into his forearms as you approached your climax.

"sam–oh..mhm, sam!" you praised as your body shook with pleasure, orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave.

his thrusts never let up as he continued to fuck you through your high, your chest heaved and pants left you as he bottomed out. whines came from you as his warm cum filled you to the brim. the pearly white substance dripping onto his cock and mixing with your juices.

"good girl."

sunny yaps! IM TIRED BUT CANT SLEEP BC MY HAUR SO I MADE THIS!! ITS RLLT VAD BUT U GUYS WANTED MORE SAM SMUT SO HEREEE YOU ARE ANGELS!!

special tags! @bluemerakis @dulcescorderitas @h8aaz @figthoughts @starzify @deansbeer

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[zepskies]

Wake Up Call

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Sam often gets up before you in the morning. He enjoys luring you into the waking world. 

AN: Surprise! After writing Rest for Dean, equal parts hurt/comfort and fluff, I’ve been itching to do some “early morning” fluff for Sam…

Word Count: 700

Warnings: 18+ only for smuttishness. Fluff and feels.

Unlike Dean, Sam isn’t one to be sentimental.

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t care. On the contrary, he hordes and treasures memories in his mind, rather than on his shelves.

It also means he’s not one to collect things just to have them. There has to be a practical use, like the way good books can be read again. Even his dad’s journal is a useful resource, not just a record of the man’s most significant words, and in some ways, his legacy.

Sam’s room is function, not fluff.

That is, until you invaded.

Well, less invaded, and more invited, but still. He sees traces of you everywhere, in the half-drunken mugs of coffee and tea piling up across his nightstand; in the shelves you’ve put up to showcase his books, alongside yours (complete with “cute” little bookends you found at a flea market in town); and in the extra fuzzy blankets and smaller pillows you’ve bought, not only because they’re comfortable, but because they help “pull the room together,” in your words.

Sam had to snort at that one. Somehow, he doesn’t think a few decorative pillows and a lamp from Goodwill are going to make a windowless bedroom in a bunker look like a page out of a Pottery Barn catalog.

But he humored you then, with the same smile he looks down on you with now. It's early in the morning as he sits up beside you in bed with his coffee. He has a fresh mug ready for you on the nightstand. (He's also brought the army of old ones back to the kitchen sink.)

He spares a moment from his laptop to brush your hair away from your cheek as you sleep. His hand drifts down your bare shoulder, as far as he can reach down your arm. Finally, his touch stirs you. Your breathing shifts with a little hum as you creep closer to wakefulness.  

“Awake already?” you grumble at him.

“Yeah. Waiting for you.”

“Hnnmmmmm.”

Sam smiles. You can be so grumpy in the morning.

He takes another sip of his coffee and sets aside his mug and his laptop. He gets up just to raise his side of the blankets, sliding back in and slotting himself behind you. You sigh after his arm has slipped beneath your head, and the other around your waist, pulling you comfortably warm against his chest.

He issues his first plan of attack, laying soft kisses behind your ear, along your jaw. Even with your eyes closed, you smile as his long hair tickles your cheek. He pays special attention to your pulse point, nipping and sucking gently. A shiver tingles down your spine.

“No fair,” you breathe out, reaching back a hand to card through his hair. Your fingers tangle in the dark strands as he smiles against your skin.

He continues his tantalizing path down your neck. His hand moves under the sheets, under your borrowed sleep shirt. His thumb brushes the underside of your breast, earning a pleased hum from you. It encourages him to palm the round softness with his big hand, pebbling the nipple under his nimble, rolling fingers.

Uttering a soft whine, you begin to subtly writhe against him. Your ass presses back into him, accidentally-on-purpose. His arousal rises to meet you, a low-burning fire crackling to life.

Sam’s kisses become more insistent with the brush of his tongue against your skin. His hand moves from playing with your breast, down the soft length of your body. Every move is a form of delicious persuasion, especially when his fingers slip under the waistband of your panties.   

“You awake yet?” Sam teases, his lips moving against your cheek.

Your smile grows. You finally open your eyes and tangle your leg with his under the covers.

“If I’m not, this is one hell of a dream,” comes your cheeky reply.

Sam chuckles. His fingers dip between your legs, into your wet heat. You suck in a breath.

His voice in your ear is enough to raise the hair on your arms.

“Baby, we haven’t even started yet.”

AN: 😘 Hope you enjoy! I haven't written Sam in a while, but I do love him too. 💜

Join My Patreon 🌟 Get early access to new stories, bonus content, and first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Sam Winchester Masterlist 

Main Masterlist

Sam Winchester Tag List

@kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @thebiggerbear

@roseblue373 @globetrotter28 @charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87

@this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @emily-winchester

@kmc1989 @siampie @hobby27 @malindacath @ladykitana90

@just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @lacilou @deans-daydream

@adoringanakin @sanscas @kaleldobrev @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378

@chriszgirl92 @gabavaldman @twinkleinadiamondsky @mxltifxnd0m @bleuatlas

@grilledcheeseandtomato @ladysparkles78 @deadlydivergentgirl @fanficwriter5 @mistressofallthingsgeeky

@iloveyou2mia @deadlymistletoe @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @whimsicalcherry @valerinapetrova

@samslvrgirl @rubyvhs @chevroletdean @winchestergirl2 @cheynovak

@jc-winchester @stoneyggirl2 @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @daisychaingirl @number1whorehome

@g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic @trashmoutth

@spnaquakindgdom

[starzify]

“You’re pushing it.”

Sam’s voice is low, steady, but there’s a warning beneath it. A slow-burning kind of control that makes your stomach flip. But you don’t stop. You tilt your chin up, letting your lips curl into a defiant little smirk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say sweetly, dragging the last word out just to test him.

His jaw ticks. The grip on your wrist tightens—not painful, just firm, commanding. He’s had enough of your teasing, your little taunts, your constant pushing. And now, you can feel the shift in the air.

“You want my attention that bad?” he murmurs, stepping in closer, his broad frame completely overwhelming yours. “Fine. You’ve got it.”

In one swift motion, he grips your wrist and yanks you forward, your chest colliding with his broad frame. His other hand settles on your hip, fingers pressing in just enough to make you whimper. His body is warm, solid, caging you in as he towers over you, his breath hot against your ear.

“You want to act like a brat?” His voice is thick, dangerously soft. “Then you’ll get treated like one.”

Your heart pounds as he spins you around and presses you flush against the nearest surface. His hands are everywhere—roaming, teasing, squeezing. He grips your hips hard enough to make you gasp, pulling you back against him so you can feel just how worked up you’ve made him.

“See what you did?” he murmurs, rolling his hips against you in a slow, deliberate motion that has your breath hitching. “You wanted my attention. Now you’ve got it.”

A whimper escapes before you can stop it, but when you try to move, to take some control back, his palm comes down sharply against your thigh. The sting melts into heat, making you moan.

“Stay still,” Sam growls. “You wanted this. Now take it.”

Then, he gives you exactly what you’ve been begging for.

He starts slow, dragging it out, making you feel every inch, every deliberate motion. His grip tightens with every thrust, keeping you in place, forcing you to take every inch of him. The rough sounds slipping from his lips—deep, broken groans, the occasional muttered curse—make your whole body tremble.

“You gonna be good for me now?” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your shoulder, his teeth grazing over sensitive skin. “Or do I need to remind you again?”

You whimper his name, barely able to think through the haze of pleasure, and Sam chuckles, dark and satisfied.

“That’s what I thought.”

tags: @ultravi0lence14 @bluemerakis @beausling @cowboysandcigarettes @dulcescorderitas @figthoughts @haunteres @h8aaz @inspiredangel @j2archives @deansbeer @misatxox @pointocean @rafespreciosa @rositaslabyrinth @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @sunsettsam @vmiina @whisperingdaze

cassie chats: my flop era is lowkey serving

[bruisedfig]

i need some aftercare with sam!! like after a rough fuck he cleans her up and cuddles her, maybe runs her a bath?? something like that

ahhhh, i’ve never written for sam before but this was such a cute lil idea!! i hope you enjoy <3 18+

*ೃ༄

the mattress squeaks as sam slumps down next you, his body slick with sweat and his lungs pulling in deep breaths as he tries to steady his breathing, “you alright, baby?”

he turns to you with his heavy-lidded eyes, awaiting your response, watching the little tears roll down your cheeks.

you muster up the energy to return his gaze, his eyes softening slightly as you speak, “yeah, sammy. m’alright.”

“happy tears?” he asks, gently wiping away the few tears with his thumb, his eyes searching yours.

you nod softly against the sheets, too tired to bother speaking. you feel the need to move closer to him, so you do, your fucked out body shaking a little as you find your place in his arms.

“that’s good, my angel. you did so well for me, you know? took me so well,” he praises quietly in your ear as his arms wrap around you, pulling you snug against his chest.

you hum in response and bury your head into his neck, searching for comfort as your warm salty tears wet his skin.

you lay together silently, your flushed sweaty bodies tangled with one another. sam rubs his hand up ‘n down your arm absent-mindedly trying to soothe you in your overwhelmed state.

“you want me to clean you up, baby?” sam asks, breaking the silence after a few moments, gently brushing some of your hair back that’s stuck against your sweaty forehead.

you hum again and nod, “yes, please.”

sam begins to pull away and get up, but your arms grab ahold of his shoulders. he looks down at you with a slightly concerned expression.

“wait,” you say quietly, “can you— umm— run me a bath, sammy? m’just a little sore.”

sam frowns at your soft confession, “yeah, of course, baby, i can do that. i— uhh… i didn’t hurt you, did i?” his widened eyes search yours, desperately needing reassurance that you’re alright, that he didn’t hurt you.

you shake your head, lifting it to meet his gaze head-on, “no, not like that. just… sensitive. and maybe a little sore from your grip… like on my hips and stuff, but i’m okay. i promise.”

he nods, the tightness in his chest fading at your soft-spoken words. he pulls himself up off the bed and he looks down at your exhausted body, “okay… cause i want you to tell me if i go too far. i want you to always tell me, okay?”

“okay.” you reply simply, the expression on your face and the look in your eye speaking more than words ever could.

he lets a smile grow on his face, “good. okay, bath time. i’ll be right back, my sweet girl.”

he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead with that dopey little smile on his face. you watch him disappear into the bathroom, followed by the sound of splashing water filling the tub.

sam returns a moment later, the smile still on his face as he takes in your state on the bed; your body all spread out, still twitching slightly with his seed dripping out between your legs. he thinks you look beautiful. heavenly even.

“mm’kay, can you walk or do you want me to carry you in?” sam tilts his head, a cheeky soft smile dancing on his lips.

you manage to pull yourself up into a sitting position, your eyes locked onto his, “can you carry me? i don’t want to walk.”

a huff of a laugh escapes sam’s mouth as he walks over to the edge of the bed, “oh, you don’t want to walk, huh?” he asks incredulously and scoops you up into his arms, “well, it’s a lucky thing i’m here then. your big strong boyfriend can carry you.”

his joking tone paired with his big strong arms wrapped around you forces a tired, yet amused, smile onto your face, “yeah, lucky me.”

he shakes his head and chuckles as he carries you bridal style into the bathroom, setting you down on the edge of the bath.

you watch as sam dips his hand into the water, testing the temperature, “hmm, alright. nice ‘n warm for you. another minute and it’ll be full, okay?”

you nod in response, watching sam grab a small hand towel, rinsing it under the sink. he turns to you, “okay, baby. let me clean you up a little. i made a mess of you, huh, pretty girl?”

he kneels in front of you, his big hands coaxing your thighs apart as you watch him, tilting your head at the sweet boy in front of you.

sam gently wipes the warm wet cloth between your thighs, cleaning up the sticky mess of your arousal and his cum. he’s so gentle, his eyes flickering up to meet yours, almost as if he’s making sure you’re still alright.

“there we go,” he hums with a smile and pulls back, looking you over, “all done, baby.”

“thank you,” you manage to mutter out as he throws the towel into the sink without a care.

“s’no worries, sweetheart. i did that to you, it’s only fair i clean you up, huh?” he grins at you, before leaning over and turning the water off.

“alright, can you hop in yourself or do you want your big strong boyfriend to help you again?” he asks playfully with that grin.

“i can do it, sammy,” you chuckle out breathily, sliding yourself into the water. you let out a deep sigh of relief as you’re enveloped in the warmth of the water.

sam smiles, tilting his head like a puppy as he watches you instantly relax, “good?”

you nod up at him, “good. thank you, sam.”

he shakes his head dismissively, “s’the least i can do for my pretty baby.”

your cheeks heat up a little at his sweet words, your fingers tapping at the surface of the water.

“do you want to hop in too?” you ask after a moment, your tired eyes looking into his.

“yeah, i do. i really do,” he chuckles and slides into the tub behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

“mmm, i love you, my pretty girl,” he coos softly into your ear, his lips brushing against it.

you can’t help the smile from spreading across your face, “i love you too, my sweet boy.”

A/N: ahhh first time writing sammy!! i’m not a sam girly but this was fun, i do love him <333

requests are open! (give me a little time, i have a few to get to ahhh!) feedback is encouraged!

reblogs support me ‘n my writing! <3

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

soulless sam… yes please. he ties you up and teases you (with ur consent obviously he’s just a little meaner when he’s soulless)

“oh i know baby” sam cooed down at you as you came around his fingers, coating his forearm with your slick. you were so sensitive it hurt, he had tied your hands above your head so you couldn’t push him off- though he thought it was adorable when you try to squirm when you got overstimulated. he had been relentless all night- with the teasing. tears began to slip down your cheeks and you moaned. “please, please sam i need your cock. please s’too much-“ you cried as he smiled, planting gentle kisses down your neck. it was insane how sweet and gentle his words could be when he was being this cruel and dominate. “you’re so cute when you beg n squirm- like you can escape this. you want my cock that bad?” he tsked, spreading your legs further. “wow you really did make quite a mess. and i haven’t even given you my cock yet- you pathetic lil baby.” he cooed softly, brushing a thumb across your cheek before adjusting himself so he slipped right inside. you gasped, the sudden fullness stretching you in half as he cockily smirked at your reaction- your wide doe eyes and silent screams. “atta girl sweetheart”

[sambleeding]

bite me // sam winchester x reader

"hnn—fuck," sam arches his body as you prod your tongue into the heat of his ass, pressing at the rim of his hole. it's savory and warm in the best way, and to have all six feet and five inches of sam winchester writhing below you in simple pleasure? you might come untouched from the thought.

you feel him push towards your tongue as you pull away, tutting before taking the meat of his right asscheek between your teeth and biting down.

now, you weren't expecting the moan that elicited from sam, the way he shifted under you to readjust his leaking cock against the bed.

"oh, sammy," you coo, breath fanning over the skin where you bit him, thumbs rubbing into his hips. "did you like that?"

sam whines and tries pushing his ass against your face again.

"use your words, boy," you say, kissing his soft skin.

"oh—yes, so good."

you knew that was going to be one of the more sensible responses you would get out of him, so you work yourself up his body, planting kisses as you go, til you're breathing in his shampoo and nuzzling into his neck.

sam was gorgeous like this: quietly panting, skin glistening slightly from a thin layer of sweat that perspired itself as you pressed your finger on the rim of his hole, still slick with your saliva, his hair was disheveled and his whole body twitched with need.

"such a good boy for me. all for me," you say as you push yourself in.

you loved how keen he always was for you to be on top. he liked being useful, but he loved being used.

as you push in a second finger, you sink your teeth into the juncture of his neck, almost hard enough to break skin. you don't know if it was from the second finger, or the bite, but sam yelps before moaning and coming with a small, final thrust into the bed.

[angelickks]

life growing up with the winchesters would include...

pt.2 ->, supernatural mlist!

⛧♱ "smile deanie, you too sammy!"

⛧♱ favorite lyrics in the margins of sam's journal

⛧♱ a handful of polaroids of the three of them in different cities in an old altoids tin stashed in the glove box

⛧♱ "fry tax, losers!"

⛧♱ knife contests in abandoned fields

⛧♱ wind in their hair, road ahead and the hum of classic rock filling their ears

⛧♱ " freud would say he's compensating for something"

⛧♱ mindlessly humming metallica

⛧♱ sharp polished knives and the odd pair of brass knuckles

⛧♱ "pretty bitchin' huh sammy?"

⛧♱ stash of candy underneath dean's seat riddled with sam's granola bars

⛧♱ multiple fake ids to collect "birthday" freebies

⛧♱ "quit choking him!" "it's fine sweetie, it builds character"

⛧♱ prank wars + "you fuckin' owe me winchester"

⛧♱ the smell of leather, gasoline, and sweet aromatherapy oils being baby's signature scent

⛧♱ "on a scale of one to ten how fucked are we? i mean realistically?"

⋆⁺₊⋆

playlist

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ papa was a rollin' stone - the temptations

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ war pigs - black sabbath

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ the chain - fleetwood mac

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ run through the jungle - creedence clearwater revival

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ wrong way - sublime

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ somebody to love - jefferson airplane

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ carry on wayward son - kansas

⋆⁺₊⋆

authors note: something cute and small i felt like randomly doing! lmk if u guys want more stuff like this, im officially back in my spn era i never really left but college got in the way

[tequilai]

yearning sam, who cannot get enough of you. Specifically made for @hauntedrose555

A MAN WHO YEARNS IS A MAN WHO EARNS

once you start predicting his questions he knows he’s cooked (don’t mind my typos and all that shit)

[immodestly-marina]

Looking for something...?

(psst... so is Sammy, see how he's looking around with his dumb lil' flashlight?)

Here's my masterlist, where you can find all things Sammy :)

Anything marked with * includes mature themes (smut), you have been warned!

SFW Sam Winchester Headcanons - What Sam would be like as a boyfriend (Alphabet hcs), very lovey dovey, Sammy's a cutie, Soft golden retriever coded Taking care of a sleepy and drained Sammy - Sam needs some love and care after a particularly stressful hunt, fluffy and whumpy Syncope - Where reader faints after an injury, Sam and Dean panic because god forbid they think rationally, Sam takes care of you like the gentleman he is *You Ruined It :( - Sammy being so riled up from just your hand palming his jean covered cock, only for you to ruin the orgasm he'd been longing for *Needy Sammy - Riding Sam into the floor after a hunt as he begs you to fuck him *So Soaked - Soulless Sam coaxes you to sleep with him to pass time, completely unfazed by you cheating on his brother with him *Prettiest thing - (Transfem) Sam thought she'd lost you on a hunt, you show your gratitude and appreciation for each other by riding her on an old motel chair *Wet! Wet! Wet! - (Boypussy) Sam is hesitant to try something new in bed, initially nervous when the words "Do you wanna try riding my face?" leave your mouth *Lick you like a lollipop - Spending V-Day with Sam's face buried between your legs

Will be updated with each work!

[daylighted]

Why do I imagine baby not knowing how to drive ? Like she knows how it works but she was always the one being driven around.

Like imagine all of them being on hunt and they expect baby to be a good driver but she actually doesn’t how to.

the plan was simple enough: dean and sam drive to the location, handle the dirty work since you weren't a big fan of the whole "casual murder" thing yet, and you'd take them home, so the mess made in the already-stolen car was as minimum and centered to the backseat as possible.

you could do it. you'd taken them places before many times. what would be different this time? clearly, dean and sam believed in you and your capabilities. their strong-willed belief was always a balm to any worries that you'd conjure up.

they get out of the car, entrusting you with the keys and leaving the driver's seat open for you to take. dean kisses you on the forehead before he leaves, all with a simple parting warning of, "take care of my baby," a pat on the hood making it obvious that somehow, he expected this car to look out for you.

it didn't take long. it never took long, not when the boys knew what they were doing on run of the mill cases like this.

they were very messy, though. climbing into the backseat and bringing along with them the stinging smell of copper. it takes them moments to relax into the backseat, exhaustion in their expressions when you glance back at them in the rearview mirror.

"don't worry about navigating," dean reassures, running a hand coated in flaky, dried blood over his face, "i'll tell you when to turn."

you nod, still fiddling away with the keys in your hand, humming to the low music you'd left playing while they were gone. this was fun, wasn't it? everything but the smell was. you loved hanging out with them.

sam breaks the comfortable silence, giving way to the fact that maybe, it was only comfortable for you. "baby?"

your gaze flicks over to him in the mirror's reflection, now. "hi."

"hi," sam laughs a little, nodding toward the front end of the car, "take us home?"

your face lights up in recognition. home. you knew that word. home was right here. but clearly, they meant something else, since the both of them watched you expectantly now. "oh! i don't know how."

dean leans forward, leather seats creaking in the process. his hand curls around the back of the driver's seat chair. "i already told you, baby, don't worry about that. i'm gonna tell you when to—"

you nod along to his words, listening as intently as you always did when dean spoke, but you're quick to cut him off when you knew that he'd already said this once. "i know."

"so..." dean's hand lifts to lightly pat down on the leather of your seat now. "what's the hold up?"

you shrug. "i don't know how to make it go."

it's quiet for another long few minutes. they are comfortable for you, filled with your low hum to the guitar solo of whatever song played. then, "explain." dean.

"the car is sleeping." you point at the dash, unmarred by the bright lights usually lit up on it. "i don't know how to wake her up."

sam. "do you... know how to drive?"

"i do not know how." you were repeating yourself a lot here. that's okay. they'd been patient with you, you could try to be patient with them. "who is going to carry the car when we walk?"

silence. you didn't know why, either. usually, dean or sam drove them all places. she could not drive, so that was the next solution. leaving a stolen car coated in blood didn't seem like an option, so someone would have to do something with it, if neither of them wanted to drive.

"baby." the soft voice of dean, the one that usually came out when he was masking the eye twitch. "what the hell do you mean you can't drive?"

now, you were getting angry. you could only have patience for so long, just like they could, before it started to get grating, answering the same thing over and over. "i. do. not. know. how."

"you said you could take us home."

"i can. i will be a very good line leader while you guys carry the car."

sam, now, sounding incredulous, stating the obvious. "you were a car."

"what?" your face twists up, confusion mixing in pretty swirls with the budding anger. "i am not a car. me and this lady do not even look alike."

dean's hand lands on your shoulder, nudging you to look at him. you do, your eyes falling right to the mess on his fingers, now imprinted into the pretty blue of your shirt. the rage, again, overpowers the confusion. "we're unpacking this later. all of this? later."

"there are no boxes." you yank your shoulder free from his grip, the entire direction of this conversation turning to lead in your stomach. you reach up to run your fingers over the risen scar tissue on your collarbone, the shapes of what you now knew were letters so easy to find now. D.W., D.W., D.W.. "this doesn't make any sense. i want to go home."

sam is the angel on your shoulder. he starts talking, and your hand goes over to your other collarbone, tracing the S.W. there subconsciously. "no need to get overwhelmed," yes there was; you could see dean's eye twitching in the rearview mirror, "i'll drive us home. is that okay?"

you nod, even if it's a little hesitant, hating this newer, slimier feeling in your chest. you didn't want them mad. you never said you could drive, just that you could take them home; it felt like you'd failed them, and it hurt the same as crying did.

still, you switch seats with sam, sinking down next to dean without a care in the world about the wet blood staining your jeans, too. you were just as messy as them, now, all of your new favorite clothes reduced to red handprints and smears.

dean watches you as sam starts the car, starting back toward the motel. you don't look at either of them. it felt like claws in your chest, every mean word in your head turning their attention onto you for this mistaken misunderstanding.

he sighs, reaching over to clasp your hand in his, resting them both on top of your knee. he must have come to the same conclusion: your outfit was already ruined, so it wouldn't hurt to get a little blood on your hand.

"sorry," you mumble to him, because it feels right to apologize. they apologize when they hurt your feelings, and they were mad at you, so it felt like the best thing to do. you pause and then repeat it to yourself, your mind trying to apologize to your heart for the mean things you'd said to it. "sorry—"

"why?" dean says, an air of nonchalance to him now, like he'd known that the apologies weren't entirely for either of them, and that your head was turning into a cruel place of hurt, and you needed the gentle remedy of talking around the problem. "this just means i gotta teach you, that's all."

it sounded so simple in his mouth that you didn't know why you'd worried in the first place. a hesitant smile pulls up on your lips. "really?"

"can't have my baby not knowin' how to drive." his thumb traces shapes over your knuckles, and suddenly, you're reminded of why, exactly, the winchesters were your home. "i've got too many places i wanna show her for that."

notes. i'm weak and i did cry when i saw this lil idea btw. bc instantly this cameinto my head. the winchester boys + being sweet to baby :( !!!!!! hope u guys dont mind that i did not want to fancy this one up <3 lots of lil cameos of prev discussed lore here hehehehe

tags. @titsout4jackles @honeyryewhiskey @ultravi0lence14 @figthoughts @theosaurous @stereotypicalbarbie @whyyouegg @eepwtf @rositaslabyrinth @rubyvhs @aileenunfiltered @abox-of-rocks @sunsbaby @bluemerakis @jollyhunter @misatxox @sunsettsam @angelblqde @bombarda-babe @unfortunate-brat @funkycoloured @chevroletdean @chiierful @cowboysandcigarettes @voidsuites @bitchykittenconnoisseur @beausling @soldiersgirl @dulcescorderitas @hyacinnths @couturewinx @blushpinkdoll @mccartneyqp @svbnra @angelicalm3ss @nperoconelcositoarriba

[sunsbaby]

¡ sam winchester x fem!reader

⋅˚₊‧ fluff . sam is a sweetie .

Ever since you and Sam began dating, it's safe to say he was obsessed with you. That man practically worshipped the ground you walked on. He took his time with you, even while in bed.

You both had a rough week, hunts back-to-back and the nagging feeling that something was just off. So, renting a boat and gliding across the salty waters was something you both agreed on.

You were laid on a chair, the sun blazing against your form. The oil you'd put on before making your body shine. Sam walked over, a smile forming on his handsome face.

"Sweetheart, y'know you look so beautiful. The prettiest thing I've ever seen." This was his way of showing how much he appreciated you, showering you with all his love and affection. He sat beside you, twinkling eyes admiring you.

The boat rocked against the waters, the feeling was rather calming. You smiled at Sam, a hand moving to brush a stray piece of hair from his face.

"Thank you, baby, I love you." You spoke sweetly towards him, the words falling off your tongue like silk. 'I love you,' hit him straight in the heart. You loved him. A warm feeling came crashing over him harder than any wave he'd ever felt.

The sun was going down, the sunset, fading into the horizon. Casting a filter over you, so Sam did what he thought was perfect at the moment. He pulled out his camera, telling you to pose, and quickly snapped a picture. Planning on keeping it with him until he died, savouring the moment he knew that you loved him; that someone other than Dean truly loved him.

"I love you too, sweetheart.."

sunny yaps! MY BABY SAMMMM!! I love him OH SO MUCH !! I do not have any motivation to write long stuff SO DRABBLES U GUYS GET!! COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED I LOVE U ALLL 😽

special tags! @bluemerakis @figthoughts

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ® 𓂃 do not repost or copy my works without permission!!

[rositaslabyrinth]

Landslide - Sam W

Sam Winchester x fem!reader

Years after walking away from hunting—and from Sam—you find yourself on his doorstep again. Some wounds heal with time. Others just wait.

Warnings : just slight angst maybe?? I don’t think there are any!!

Word count ; 2,591

You didn’t expect him to open the door so fast.

Maybe you thought you’d have a moment to change your mind—to run like you always do. But when the cabin door creaked open and you saw him standing there, tall and quiet and so achingly familiar, your feet stayed rooted to the ground.

He hadn’t changed much. A little older around the eyes, maybe. Softer in the way he held his shoulders. But his presence hit you like a memory you didn’t realize you still carried.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, like it hurt to say it out loud.

You swallowed. “Hey.”

There were a hundred things you should’ve said. A hundred more you wanted to. But neither of you reached for them. Instead, Sam stepped aside and let you in like no time had passed at all.

The cabin smelled like cedarwood and dust, like old books and something distinctly him. It was warm, lived-in, nothing like the motels you used to crash in after long hunts. There were throw blankets on the couch, boots by the door. A real life.

You didn’t ask if you could stay. You didn’t have to.

He made grilled cheese.

You stood near the window as he worked, watching the last light of the day fade behind the treeline. The mountains cradled the sky in silence, turning everything blue and gold.

“Still like it the same way?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

You smiled faintly. “Burnt edges, extra cheese.”

He smirked. “Some things don’t change.”

“No,” you said, quieter, “I guess they don’t.”

He handed you a plate and nodded toward the table. You both sat, the old wooden chairs creaking under your weight like they remembered more than you did.

It felt strange—this domestic calm between you, like a dream borrowed from someone else’s life.

“So,” you said after a beat. “Colorado?”

He shrugged. “Felt like the place to go.”

“Not a lot of monsters around here.”

He glanced up at you. “That’s why I picked it.”

You nodded slowly. Sam looked down at his food, then back at you, eyes full of the kind of silence that used to live between you. That familiar ache.

“I missed you,” he said.

Your breath caught. “You don’t even know if I’m still the same person.”

“I don’t care.”

Later, you sat on the porch together, a bottle of whiskey between you. The stars were so bright they didn’t feel real. The kind of night that makes the world feel untouched.

Inside, an old radio played—quiet enough to be background noise, until the chords of Landslide drifted through the open window.

Your chest tightened.

Sam shifted beside you. “You still like this song?”

You stared out at the trees. “Always.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then—

“Why’d you leave?”

You looked down at your hands, at the way your fingers were knotted in your lap like a child’s. “Because I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of what we were becoming. Of what I was becoming. The blood, the loss… the life. It was swallowing me whole.”

Sam nodded. His voice was soft. “I was scared too.”

You glanced at him. He was looking straight ahead, his profile lit faintly by the moonlight.

“I thought you’d chase me,” you said.

He exhaled. “I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I figured… if you wanted to go, I shouldn’t stop you.”

“And if I didn’t?”

His gaze shifted toward you, slow and deliberate. “Then I was a coward.”

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?Can I handle the seasons of my life

The song played on, winding around the quiet like it was made for moments like this. You leaned back against the porch post, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Do you ever think about it?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. “About what we could’ve been?”

Sam’s answer was instant. “Every day

You looked at him then—really looked at him. His eyes were tired but kind, full of sorrow and something else. Something warm. Something still beating.

You reached for him, tentative.

He didn’t hesitate.

He took your hand, fingers lacing through yours like they belonged there. Like no time had passed at all.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing

‘Cause I built my life around you…

“I still love you,” you said.

Sam turned toward you, eyes glassy in the moonlight.

“I never stopped,” you added, voice breaking. “Even when I tried to.”

He let out a shaky breath. Moved closer.

“Then stay,” he said.

And this time, you didn’t run.

You let him wrap his arms around you, let your face rest against his chest, let his heartbeat fill your ears like an old song you’d forgotten the words to. He kissed the top of your head like it was instinct, like his body remembered how to love you before his mind could catch up.

The wind moved softly through the trees. The record skipped, then continued.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the weight of the past lift—just a little.

You had survived the landslide.

Now all that was left was to build something new.

You woke to birdsong and the rustle of wind through pine trees.

And warmth.

The kind of warmth that came from a body next to yours, from skin against skin. From peace.

Sam’s arms were around you, loose but protective. One hand rested at your waist, the other tucked beneath his pillow. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, slow and even.

It should’ve felt unfamiliar. But it didn’t.

You let yourself stay still for a moment longer, eyes closed, listening to the quiet hum of the morning and the rhythmic sound of his breathing.

You’d almost convinced yourself last night had been a dream.

But then his thumb moved, just slightly, brushing the soft fabric of your shirt. You didn’t move. You weren’t ready to break the spell just yet.

“You awake?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes fluttered open. “Yeah.”

He shifted behind you, pulling you in a little closer. “I thought I might’ve imagined you.”

You smiled, small and sad. “I thought I’d be gone by now.”

His arm tightened slightly. “I’m glad you’re not.”

You turned then, rolling to face him. His eyes were half-lidded, hair tousled, the kind of sleepy beautiful that made your chest ache. You reached up and brushed a strand away from his forehead.

“You look older,” you said softly.

He huffed out a quiet laugh. “Gee, thanks.”

You smiled. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just… life’s been happening to you.”

He nodded, eyes on yours. “Yeah. It’s been happening to you too.”

You looked away for a second, your gaze drifting toward the window, where sunlight filtered in through thin curtains.

“I never thought I’d come back,” you whispered.

“But you did,” he said. “And I’m not gonna ask you why. Not yet.”

You looked back at him. “Thank you.”

He reached for your hand beneath the blanket, linking your fingers. His touch was so gentle you almost didn’t feel it.

“I kept thinking,” he said quietly, “if I ever saw you again, I’d be angry. Hurt. I’d want answers.”

“Do you?”

He shook his head. “I just want you to stay.”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know who I am without the road,” you said, voice thick. “Without the hunts. Without the blood. I don’t know how to be still.”

“You don’t have to know yet,” Sam said. “You just have to want to try.”

You looked at him then, really looked—at the way he watched you with that old, familiar tenderness. At the hope in his voice even when it was cautious. Even when he was scared.

“I do want to try,” you said.

His hand slid to your cheek. He leaned in slowly, giving you the chance to pull away.

You didn’t.

The kiss was soft. Barely there. Nothing like the ones you used to share in motel rooms after hunts gone wrong—full of desperation and adrenaline. This was slower. Honest. A first kiss all over again.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too,” you said. “Every day.”

Later, you sat in the kitchen with two mismatched mugs of coffee between you and a blanket still wrapped around your shoulders. The morning sun poured through the windows, painting the floor in soft gold.

The old record player in the corner crackled to life again. You hadn’t realized he still had it.

He glanced up at you as it played, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I never got rid of it.”

You tilted your head. “The Fleetwood Mac record?”

He nodded. “You left it behind. Thought maybe you’d come back for it someday.”

You swallowed, something thick rising in your throat. “And if I hadn’t?”

“I would’ve kept it anyway.”

You laughed under your breath, brushing away a tear before it could fall. “You’re still such a sap.”

He leaned in and kissed your temple, just once. “Only for you.”

You looked at him then, really looked—at the man who waited, who never stopped making room for you, even in silence.

Mornings became your new kind of prayer.

Not the kind where you whispered names before stepping into danger. Not the kind where you begged the universe to keep him safe. But the soft, holy kind. The one that came with the smell of fresh coffee and the way Sam always ran his fingers through your hair before getting out of bed.

You started waking up earlier just to watch him go through his routine.

He was quiet in the mornings—always had been. Thoughtful. Kind. The sort of man who didn’t talk until you did, who made breakfast and passed you the first mug like it was instinct.

You didn’t talk much at first. It felt safer that way. Safer to just be.

But one morning, you reached for the cutting board before he could.

“I’ll make the eggs today,” you said.

Sam blinked like it had never occurred to him that you’d do something so… normal. “Okay.”

So you stood side by side in the tiny kitchen, shoulder brushing shoulder, as the skillet warmed and the morning sun painted his face in honey light. You felt like you were learning him all over again—not as a hunter, not as a legend, not as someone you lost—but as someone you could build a life with.

He handed you the salt. You passed him the bread. It was nothing and everything at once.

Later that week, you found the box.

It was buried beneath the stairs, beneath some old flannels and notebooks full of research that probably hadn’t been touched in years.

Your name was written on the lid in Sam’s handwriting.

You brought it upstairs quietly and set it on the coffee table, fingers hovering.

“You kept this?” you asked as he came in from the porch.

He looked at the box and paused.

“…Yeah.”

Inside: your old leather jacket, faded photos from your early hunts together, the silver ring you’d worn on your middle finger for years. A crumpled napkin from a bar in Austin with your number scrawled on it.

You looked up at him. “I didn’t think you’d remember.”

He sat beside you, closer than before. “I remembered everything.”

And then, his hand over yours.

You didn’t pull away.

That night, the ache shifted. The silence between you wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt warm. Comfortable.

Sam brushed his fingers down your spine as you sat together on the porch swing, your head tucked into the crook of his shoulder.

“You think we could make it work?” you asked. “For real this time?”

“I think we already are.”

You let yourself believe it.

And then you kissed him—really kissed him—for the first time in years. It was slow and sure and soaked in everything unsaid. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions. The kind that said welcome home.

You didn’t go back to your room that night. You stayed wrapped in his sheets, in his arms, in the warmth of something you’d both been too scared to hope for.

For the first time in a long time, you let yourself dream.

The house was quiet. For once.

There were toys scattered across the hallway—plastic dinosaurs and half-built block towers. The fridge was covered in construction paper hearts and drawings done in crayon, all crooked lines and backwards letters.

You sat on the porch, wrapped in a soft flannel blanket, a mug of tea resting in your hands. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the backyard in gold. The swing creaked lazily beside you. And from inside, there was the faint sound of Sam’s voice reading something aloud.

A children’s book, you guessed.

You smiled, sipping your tea, as the screen door creaked open behind you.

“She’s out cold,” Sam said, stepping outside, a soft grin on his face. “Took a whole three pages of Goodnight Moon tonight.”

“She’s growing,” you said, looking up at him. “Too fast.”

He sat beside you, reaching to pull the blanket over his lap. You tucked yourself into his side, like always. His arm settled around your shoulders with the ease of habit.

“She asked about monsters today,” he said quietly.

Your smile faltered. “What’d you tell her?”

“That they aren’t real. Not the ones she needs to worry about, anyway.”

You were quiet for a moment, your hand resting over his chest where his heartbeat still thudded strong and steady.

“You ever miss it?” you asked. “The road?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. His eyes were on the horizon, on the trees swaying in the evening breeze.

“Sometimes,” he said. “The clarity of it. The purpose. But not enough to trade this. Not even close.”

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.

“I think about her sometimes,” you murmured. “The me that left. The one who thought she’d never make it back.”

“She came back,” he said softly. “She made it home.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes full of that same warmth, that same quiet knowing he’d always had.

Inside, something shifted. The front door creaked. Tiny footsteps padded across the floor.

You both looked over your shoulders just as your son—barefoot, hair sticking up—peeked out, clutching a well-worn blanket.

“Mama?”

You stood up, crossing to him in seconds.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head.

You scooped him into your arms and carried him back to the porch. Sam reached for him instinctively, settling him against his chest as the little one yawned and nestled in.

You sat back down, brushing a hand over your son’s hair.

Sam looked over at you, eyes shining in the fading light.

“Can you believe this is ours?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You looked at your boy, at Sam, at the house behind you and the slow, sacred stillness of the moment.

“I believe it,” you said. “Every day.”

And as the sun slipped lower, as fireflies began to flicker in the yard and your son fell asleep between you, Sam pressed a kiss to your temple.

The landslide had come. It had changed you. Broken you, even.

But it had also brought you here—to this porch, this life, this love.

And you had never felt steadier.

Liz talks : I think this is my first official sam fic? Outside of series!!!! I wanted to try something different I hope this is good I genuinely can’t tell LMFAOO I had this song stuck in my head all week last week so obviously I had to make this <33

Tags : @sunsbaby , @starzify , @bluemerakis , @aambearr , @blossomingorchids , @littlesoulshine , @daylighted , @wchswift , @emeraldcrs , @bossyblondie , @lunaleah , @pieandflannel , @sunnyteume , @deanswifeyy , @tinas111 , @deanswidow , @nymphet-quenn , @multiversefanfics , @star-maker-rain-dancer , @juicifeur , @saltcxrcle , @mochiclouds , @kimxwinchester

To be tagged in any future works of mine please check out this post !!

Any engagement is greatly appreciated <33

[castiwls]

so it goes - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'Gettin' caught up in a moment, lipstick on your face'

Requested; anon

Notes; reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

It wasn’t often you found yourself getting a moment alone anymore. Hunting had seemingly taken over your entire lives and left you with little time to enjoy the other things in life.

It had been so long since you had eaten anything which didn’t come from a box or a takeout bag that you’d almost forgotten how calming it could be to cook your own food. The smell alone left you floating into your own little world, your worries seeming to melt away the longer you moved around the kitchen.

Grabbing a tomato you carefully sliced it, humming to yourself as you did. Placing the knife down you carefully scooped the pieces into a bowl before. As you moved the feeling of two arms wrapping around your waist pulled a small gasp from your lips.

Placing your hands on the counter you let out a breath feeling lips press against the shell of your ear. “What are you making.” Sam smiled pressing another kiss to your cheek. “Nothing fancy.” You shrugged leaning into his chest with a content sigh.

Sam humed moving his hands to your hips. “Smells good.” He smiled. His hands rubbed slow circles into your hips as you continued to chop vegetables. Sam rested his head on your chin allowing himself to relax as your movements swayed him slightly.

Your food had quickly become one of his favourite things and he’d truly missed it more than he’d admit. He’d missed the domesticity of it all. How normal it was in a world where almost nothing was normal.

“Okay.” You clapped your hands. “Now we wait.” You turned in his arms, moving your own around his neck. Sam’s gaze was soft as he smiled down at you. “What.” You laughed feeling slightly nervous under his gaze. 

“Nothing, nothing just…” He shook his head. “I love you.” He smiled tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The tips of his fingers grazed the back of your head as you felt a quiet sigh leave your lips. “I love you too.” You smiled - a warm feeling slowly building in your stomach.

Sam’s hand moved to cup the back of your head. His hand gently massaged your head as his gaze dropped to your lips. “I missed this.” He sighed. The last few weeks had been nothing short of hellish yet all that seemed to fade away as the world seemed to narrow down until everything seemed like background noise.

The only thing that mattered to him at that moment was you. 

“It’s been a while.” You laughed quietly. He nodded in agreement before leaning in to press his lips against yours. A small noise of surprise escaped your lips at the sudden movement. Sam smiled against your lips as you felt his hand slowly slip from your hair down to your hip.

Your own hands looped around his neck as you pushed yourself up slightly on your toes. “Wait.” He murmured against your lips pulling back slightly.

You furrowed your brows tilting your head slightly. “Wha-” A yelp left your lips as you suddenly felt yourself get lifted from the ground and placed on the counter behind you. “Better.” He grinned rubbing his nose against yours.

“Better.” You grinned using your grip on his neck to pull him in. A quiet laugh escaped him as your lips met his. Sam’s hand squeezed your hip as you moved a hand to the nape of his neck.

Falling into your own little world, time seemed to float away until a loud ringing noise broke through the silence - the food was done.

You both jumped, Sam, pulled back his eyes wide as he looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on the timer. Oh.

“Well. That's one way to ruin the mood.” You shook your head jumping off the counter to turn off the oven.  Sam laughed leaning back against the counter, watching you. “We always have later.” He shrugged a smirk playing on his lips.

[bruisedfig]

random sam and dean headcanons *ೃ༄

⭑ sam winchester has an emotional support water bottle. probably one of the big 2L ones. dean often threatens to hit him with it.

⭑ dean winchester hates the taste of toothpaste. but loves peppermint gum. sam prefers spearmint.

⭑ dean winchester uses his brother’s toothbrush from time to time. he doesn’t care. but sam does. a lot.

⭑ sam winchester prefers his hair long because he likes the motion of tucking it behind his ears.

⭑ dean winchester once tried wearing eyeliner. john winchester hated it.

⭑ sam winchester has never smoked a cigarette.

⭑ sam and dean winchester are both right-handed, although both ambidextrous when it comes to handling weaponry. dean sometimes wishes he was left-handed.

⭑ dean winchester thinks his nose is funny-looking. it’s the first thing he sees in the mirror.

⭑ sam winchester loves tofu. dean hates it with a fiery passion.

⭑ dean winchester never replaces the toilet paper when he finishes the roll.

⭑ sam winchester used to collect bugs as a kid. his favourite bug is still a stick insect.

⭑ dean winchester hates beanies.

⭑ sam winchester often absentmindedly cracks his fingers. dean tells him it’s disgusting, that it’s unnatural.

⭑ sam winchester was going to get a tattoo during his time at stanford, but decided against it when he saw the needle.

⭑ dean winchester likes people laying on top of him.

A/N: these are the most stupid and random headcanons i could come up with LOL i love making stupid posts like this

[supernotnatural2005]

Drunk in Love - Drabble

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Summary: Drunk Jensen antics

Word Count: 625

Warnings/tags: Established relationship, Nesnej, Drunk!Jensen, he's adorable, fluff.

AN: Just a little something that popped into my head, thought it was cute. Plus I love Drunk!Jensen ❤️ Hope you guys enjoy.

Main Masterlist

Jensen had definitely had a few too many "apple juices" on stage with Jared. You could always tell when he’d hit that point—when the reserved, keep-it-together side of him started to crumble, and in its place, the showman emerged.

He was more performative, more touchy, saying things he normally wouldn’t. Jared, of course, ate it up, encouraging every bit of his antics like the chaos gremlin he was.

By the time Jensen finally got off stage and into the green room, he was already looking for you. His gaze swept the room, glassy but determined, until it landed on you standing near the catering table, laughing at something Gen had just said. His face immediately softened, lips tugging into a lopsided, love-drunk grin.

Like a man on a mission, he beelined toward you, stepping up behind you without a sound. Before you could react, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You barely had time to register the warmth of him before he leaned in and plucked the mini quiche straight from your fingertips with his mouth.

You gasped, spinning to look at him over your shoulder, eyes wide. “Jensen! That was the last one!”

He chewed dramatically, smirking, the smug bastard. “Mmm… delicious.” He swallowed, then tilted his head. “Tasted even better ‘cause it was yours.”

You huffed, swatting at his chest, but he just laughed, holding you even closer. Gen chuckled, giving you a knowing look before making herself scarce, leaving you to handle your very clingy, very drunk boyfriend.

At home, Jensen was affectionate—always had a hand on you somewhere. But in public, he was usually a bit more reserved, respectful of personal space and the fact that not everything needed to be on display.

Drunk Jensen, however, didn’t seem to remember that little detail.

His lips found the side of your neck, pressing slow, lingering kisses along your skin. His hands wandered freely—one resting at your hip, the other sneaking under the hem of your sweater, rubbing slow circles against your lower back. You let out a soft laugh, trying to pry his arms off you, but he just groaned dramatically and nuzzled into your shoulder.

“Nooo, lemme hold you,” he whined.

“Jay, people are watching,” you teased, though you couldn’t deny how much you loved how affectionate he was being.

“Let ‘em watch,” he muttered, tilting your chin up with two fingers and capturing your lips in a deep, slow kiss.

It stole the breath right from your lungs. His lips were warm, tasting faintly of whiskey and something sweet, and when he finally pulled back, his green eyes were hooded and full of mischief.

You blinked, dazed. “Whatever’s gotten into you… I like it.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. With a grin, he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he had all the time in the world.

Then, suddenly, you were off the ground.

You yelped as Jensen dramatically scooped you up bridal style, making an exaggerated show of carrying you toward the elevators.

“Jensen! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ with a grin, his steps only slightly wobbly. “Gotta get my girl upstairs. Too much sexy in one room—‘s distracting.”

You covered your face, half laughing, half mortified as the few people still lingering in the green room watched in amusement. Jared, of course, was the loudest, laughing his ass off from across the room.

“Be safe, lovebirds!” Jared called out. “Try not to break anything!”

You groaned, and Jensen just laughed, pressing his lips against your temple. “C’mon, babe. We got important business to attend to.”

And with that, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving you to deal with your very drunk, very in-love boyfriend.

AN: I hope you guys liked this one, was just something short an sweet, but adorable.. If only this were true, am I right? 😫

If you would like to be tagged in my future works please respond to this >form< so I can add you to the character's you'd like 😊

Jensen Ackles Tag List:

@lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown @jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy

@megara0224 @hobby27 @kr804573 @mrs-nesmith @ohheyguyss

@suckitands33 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @arcannaa @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy

@waynes-multiverse @impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

@ladysparkles78 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas @krazykelly @lori19

@roseblue373 @spxideyver @idontwannabehere78 @sir-thisisadndserver @livingdeadblondequeen

@multiversefanfics @miss-marmalade