♱

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

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.

♱ 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

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.”

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.

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.