#saintedsam

#okay but would those short shorts contain sam #that is the question

saintedsam reblogged your photo “I was thinking it would be fun to make edits of Sam and Dean in some of the couples costumes Dean suggested, so I...” and added

#sorry but those tiny shorts could not contain sam's #ahem #assets in the crotch region 

dean produces those costumes and badgers and badgers sam about them and in a fit of misguided generosity and self-denial sam finally gives in and retreats to the motel room bathroom to put his on (why are they doing this in the middle of a case? idk. maybe they have to go to some kind of slutty halloween party to scope out something dodgy)

but then there’s an unexpectedly long silence and dean’s in his lil green overalls like “come on sammy” and then a strangled voice from the bathroom like “we’re going to have to find something else, dean, this doesn’t fit”

dean like “come on sasquatch i know they’re short but that’s the point”

door opens a crack and sam’s face peeks out, scowling. hisses, “no, dean. it doesn’t fit.”

dean “...”

sam: “i can’t fit into them.”

dean: “...” 

sam: “i can’t fit into them.”

dean gets the hint, turns pink but is then immediately outraged. “oh come on sammy don’t be ridiculous.” barges the door open. sam squeaks in shock.

Unadulterated smut: Wincest, barebacking, dirty talk.

Happy birthday @saintedsam​! And here’s to many more! ♥

“C’mon, man. Lemme see ya.” Dean leans on the headboard, legs spread, dick in his hand.

Sam blushes, hesitates. Tugs tighty whiteys down his thighs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, Sammy, so hot.” Sam’s dick jumps and Dean grins. “C’mere.” He pats the bed.

Sam kneels up, cat crawls til he’s snug at Dean’s side. Dean shoves fingers in his mouth. “Suck.”

Sam’s eyes flare. Lips quirk, close around Dean’s knuckles. Tongue tickles the pads and cheeks cave in.

Dean hums. “That’s it, God, the mouth on you.” Bare scrape of teeth. Dean hisses, curls his fingers, chokes Sam, just a little. Eyes tear up. “Fuckin hot like this, can’t wait to have you on my dick.”

i really like Wynonna Earp. Wynonna and her sister Waverly remind me a bit of Dean and Sam in certain ways

fantasygeek replied to your post

Dead Like Me? After that I've pretty much run out

saintedsam reblogged your post and added:

Hannibal. Or American Gods. Both from Bryan Fuller...

ooh thanks! so wynonna earp looks like a good option (although syfy shows haven’t grabbed me much in the past...) i started watching american gods but i kind of lost interest after a few episodes, i tend to do that. dean like me and hannibal sound like good options, i’ve been wanting to watch hannibal for a while!

Babies!! Welcome to cat motherhood!

zmediaoutlet replied to your photoset “Went to visit my kittens last night, they are coming home with me next...”

their! spots! THEIR SMALL PINK EARS!

izzyindefini replied to your photoset “Went to visit my kittens last night, they are coming home with me next...”

tiNY BABIES!!!! ��

So. James Novak, the famous indie folk singer, has a very well-publicized meltdown and disappears from the public eye. His agent refuses any interview requests and puts out very vague statements about how James is taking time off from the music industry “to reconnect with himself.”

Really, James was just exhausted from being James, so he threw a dart at a map of America, packed up all his things, and introduced himself to his new neighbors by his childhood nickname of Castiel. He does not mention his music, and when he’s a suit and tie rather than his traditional “stoner” clothes, no one seems to recognize him.

The very last thing he expects is to run into is his old best friend Benny at the supermarket, or for Benny to have a different last name. Wasn’t it LaFitte, not Hargrove, when they were in high school?

Turns out Benny is trying to keep from being recognized too, though for very different reasons. While Cas might get mobbed by fans or reporters, Benny might just be murdered. That’s kind of what happens when you testify against your wife and the serial-killing cult leader the two of you used to follow. The case was three years ago now and Benny’s not technically in Witness Protection anymore, but he’s cautious. Paranoid, maybe. He’s seen some stuff, okay?

It’s a weird situation.

Which only gets weirder when, waiting for Benny to clock out at the coffee shop he runs now, Cas gets recognized by someone he’s never seen before in his life. Except the man calls him Jimmy, which he hasn’t gone by since he was seventeen, then switches to Cas when Cas still doesn’t recognize him.

There’s a blush on the man’s cheeks for no reason Cas can place, until he says, “We went to high school together. I, uh.” He lowers his voice. “I went by Samantha? Back then?”

That’s when it clicks. Sam, the third member of their trio, two years younger than them but still an integral part of the group for the two years that the Winchesters lived in that town. She looks- well, he, Cas guesses. He looks good. Happier now, than he did when he was fifteen.

Turns out that Sam, after divorcing his husband Brady (and the less said about that the better), used the money from the settlement to go out and get surgery, start HRT, buy a new wardrobe, and relocate somewhere that no one would know who he used to be. It was just pure chance that he happened to end up in the same place as Cas, who just happened to end up in the same place as Benny, who only picked this town because Washington is about as far from Louisiana as he can get without leaving the country.

hurt-comfort-ish, post-episode 12x07, “Rock Never Dies”

Crooked knuckles and calluses shovel and gun, Palm Scar and, palm scars, dozens for spells: safe-circles, summonings.

Red doors, buckling not even demon blood full-on brick shithouse, Sam or no, maybe so on blood because, what man ever out-muscled Satan’s mojo?

Cas? Am I still— Forearm touch leaches heat not-quite-brown-out—

Sam.

Flinch against shards that never shatter.

Your Will exceeds my brother’s. How many times must you—

Weightlessness.

Keep your eyes closed.

Freeze-searing wingtips circle and wind knees-down numb.

This is how strong you are.

Subtle bumping footfalls Where are we going? Grace-smile shines right through tight lids.

I don’t know, Sam. You’re carrying me.

Cross-posted to spnapo Prompt: holy holy holy (glorious, slightly NSFW artwork by saintedsam: T, trueform Sastiel)

Supernatural Poetry Challenge @laughablelament vs @thecandylovingarchangelgabriel​​ Prompt: Benny Lafitte Rated: PG (mild language) Tags: Dramatic monologue, missing scene from “Taxi Driver”

(on ao3)

You ain’t gon believe this, chief, but I got a real ol soft spot for ya.

Naw I mean it. Never done much in the way of sharin and carin but Dean and that angel both— I’s startin t’think you hung the moon, time we got clear of this place.

Oh I know he exaggerates.

But… both of em says you whooped the Devil, right inside your mind. Angel says you got a forgivin soul, n’Dean… well, Dean says you’s a bitch but it’s how he says it—affectionate-like.

Naw I ain’t never had no brother, not by that kinda blood anyways. Brothers in other blood. Spilt, shared.

Naw, man, what the hell’s wrong with you? Tell me somethin, stretch, you been hungry at all since you rolled in here? Well…

Strictly on donors, same’s I told Dean. Bag blood, horrible tastin but gets the job done. More or less.

Yeah I know. Easy done, judgin a man for his hist’ry. Lucky you, I’m a forgivin soul too.