jmoonk

[jmoonk]

[jmoonk]

sam winchester i need you so bad it’s not funny anymore

[jmoonk]

I want Stanford era Sam Winchester

[jmoonk]

There aren't four walls around me.

Just a part of one wall that's considered mine. And I hate that wall. No matter how many times I try to make it pretty or comfortable— The longer I sit there, the more I hate it.

I hate that nothing is mine. Not the table. Not the space. Not even the silence. Yet here I am—yearning, bleeding and tearing myself apart for something that I can call mine.

But the moment I had it, it was gone.

And it feels as though someone ripped off a poster from my part of the wall and hung it across their four walls. And all I can do is stare at something that was once mine.

It reminds me that nothing's really mine. Not even the silver of wall that I dared to call my own. I hate it. Hate that I hate it. Hate that I'm envious of four walls.

I want to have four walls around me that I can call mine.

[jmoonk]

images are not mine! icons are from pinterest :)

[jmoonk]

reblog if people r allowed to send u asks as if theyre ur friend. wanna tell me how ur day went? do it!!! ask me for advice? sure! ask a personal question? go right on ahead!

[jmoonk]

SCREAMED WHEN I SAW YOUR DRABBLE FOR JENSEN ACKLES.

Can you write about Misha x actress!reader filming a makeout scene that's lowkey escalating into something more primal, and I mean primal. I'm speaking about dry humping, sloppy but feverish kisses, hair tugging, hands wandering and groping any silver of flesh, moaning and groaning, heavy breathing and so on and so forth.

And a tiny detail I would L O V E to read is the fact that they don't hear the director saying cut. They just keep going and create such an intense scene that makes them question things.👁👄👁

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 still rolling,

summary. drawing a line between character's chemistry and real life is so so hard. but you can't deny this is far from fictional.

pairing. misha collins x actress!reader genre. steamy / almost-smut ( mdni )

wordcount. 838

notes / warnings. dry humping, feverish makeout session, breathy moans, groping, hair pulling, handsy chaos, on-set intimacy that spirals, acting that’s way too real, no concept of personal space, unspoken mutual pining, and yes—they absolutely don’t hear the director say cut.

You’re not even thinking when he crashes into you.

Well—Misha crashes into you. His character is supposed to kiss yours against the wall with a little roughness, a little heat. One take, easy enough. You’ve done spicier stuff on screen before. You even practiced the damn blocking last night, just to make sure there’d be no awkward bumps or bruises.

But this isn’t the kiss you rehearsed.

This is—God. This is Misha pressing you against the set wall like the air between you two is toxic and his body is the antidote. It’s his hand fisting in your hair, the other slipping under the hem of your costume jacket, calloused fingertips dragging over bare skin like he's been waiting all season for an excuse.

Your mouth opens for him like it’s a reflex. There’s no pause, no break, no breath. Just tongue and teeth, spit-slick lips, and a groan so guttural it vibrates straight through your sternum. You’re not acting anymore. Not really. The moan that leaves your throat is yours. And so is the way your hips roll into his like you need something. Like you’ve been starved for it.

And Misha—oh, he feels that.

He shudders, lips slipping down to your neck, biting where the mic won’t pick it up. His breath is hot and ragged against your skin, nose nudging your jaw, and he’s gripping your waist now, grinding into you with slow, heavy friction that makes your knees wobble. One of his thighs wedges between your legs and you don’t stop it—you press down, gasping, chasing the pressure with a subtle desperation you hope the cameras can’t catch.

(They can. And they are.)

You don’t hear anyone yelling cut. You don’t hear anything. The lights are sweltering, your pulse is sprinting, and Misha’s hand is halfway up your back now, fingers sliding beneath your bra strap like he’s going to pull it off if you give him a single ounce of encouragement.

Your fingers tangle in his hair. Tug. You feel the growl in his throat more than you hear it.

“Misha,” you gasp—and that isn’t a line. That’s you. That’s your voice, airy and needy and so not scripted.

He pulls back a fraction of an inch. His pupils are blown. Lips pink and slick. His chest heaves as he searches your eyes like he’s checking in, but he doesn’t move away. Doesn’t drop character. Doesn’t even blink.

A second later, he’s on you again. Harder this time. Messier. His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip before his mouth devours it again, and this time your leg lifts—hooked around his hip like your body’s just done this before. Like it remembers something your brain hasn’t let you admit.

You rub against him shamelessly, the drag of his jeans against your clothed center making your thighs tremble. He grunts, a sound low and filthy, like he’s seconds from forgetting where he is.

Your back hits the wall again with a soft thud. Your hips stutter, chasing his. His teeth scrape your collarbone. Your fingers clutch at the waistband of his jeans, greedy and blind.

And then—

“Cut!”

The room snaps into focus like you’ve both been dunked in cold water.

You blink.

Misha blinks.

You slowly, very slowly, look past his shoulder.

The set is quiet.

Too quiet.

The crew is silent, watching. Some look stunned. A few look like they just saw something private—like they weren’t supposed to still be rolling, like they just accidentally witnessed the scene of the century.

The director clears his throat. “That was… uh. We’re gonna go again, but—maybe tone it down from NC-17 to cable TV?”

Jared snorts. Jensen mutters “Jesus Christ,” and Misha hasn’t moved. His hand is still on your waist. His chest is still pressed against yours. You can feel him breathing, fast and hot and barely keeping it together.

You don’t say anything for a second. Neither does he.

Then—

“That was your fault,” you murmur, lips still practically grazing his.

“Oh yeah?” he breathes, not backing up an inch. “I think we both deserve the blame. Or the award.”

You huff a breathy laugh, and it hits him in the mouth. His eyes darken again.

“Wanna talk about it later?” he asks, voice low and even, like he’s asking if you want dinner—not if you want to finish dry humping him in his trailer.

You nod once, dizzy.

And even as he pulls away (slowly, reluctantly, like his body wants to stay pressed to yours), his hand finds yours for a beat. Squeezes. Something passes between you—something unspoken, but not fictional.

Definitely not acting.

You hear the director again, clapping once to reset.

“Okay! Reset for take three—this time, let’s remember there’s a crew in the room!”

You and Misha glance at each other, and he raises an eyebrow, smirking just a little.

You grin back, cheeks flushed, thighs still trembling.

Take three’s about to look suspiciously like take two.

But hey—if they want chemistry, they’re gonna get it.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

[jmoonk]

Dare I say this is Destiel?

[jmoonk]

Not Sam looking at me as if I said it🙄

[jmoonk]

Hii

I'll be taking a break until I finish my first batch of finals in June/July. I won't be online as much as I want to, but I'll definitely come check how everyone is doing now and then<33

Byee🫶🏾

Edit:

The next batch of finals are in August. Gotta study, though:(

[jmoonk]

loveeee the themeeeee <33333

THANK YOU MAHI<3

Can we talk about the gif of bloody Dean in your layout tho? Cause MMH MMH MMH😫

[jmoonk]

Thank you for the tag @deanstubble <3

— 𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙚𝙚𝙠 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

1. Treason by Tinashe

2. Mona Lisa by J-Hope

3. i by Kendrick Lamar

4. Too Little, Too Late by JoJo

5. Hola Hola by KARD

6. Enemy by Azee

NPT: @mostlymarvelgirl @melwnst @vmiina @mahi-wayy @bluemerakis @bejeweledinterludes @jasvtsc @h8aaz @gh0stlightss @daylighted @soldiersgirl @yawnzshit @rositaslabyrinth (ignore if you've been tagged already<3)

Songs of the week!

1. “My Best Friend’s Girl” by The Cars

2. “Back In Time” by Huey Lewis & The News

3. “We Got The Beat” by The Go-Go’s

4. “I Hate Myself for Loving You” by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts

5. “Head Over Heels” by Tears for Fears

6. “Dope on a Rope” by The Growlers

Clearly, I’m on some kind of kick right now <3

Zero pressure tags 🫶🏻 @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @tinas111 @0ccvltism @losers-clvb

[jmoonk]

Little Skittle

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: 18+, Smut, fingering, oral, teasing, overestimulation, happiness, porn with a little plot (Sam and reader are already in an established relationship), birthday celebrations, usage of different terms.

The first thing Sam noticed when he opened his bedroom door was the scent—amber, smoke, something sweet and clinging, something that didn’t belong to the bunker.

The second thing was you.

Standing in the center of his room like a vision summoned from the quiet corners of every half-formed dream he never let himself finish.

You were wearing his flannel.

Only his flannel.

And it was open.

The candlelight didn’t help. It painted you in gold and shadow, caught in the hollow of your collarbones, the swell of your breasts, the glint of your eyes as you watched him from beneath lashes like whispers.

“Happy birthday, Sammy,” you said, and your voice was velvet—low, warm, dangerous.

For a heartbeat, he just stared—stunned, silent, completely still.

Then his jaw clenched.

“You’re not playing fair,” he said, voice already rough around the edges.

You took a step forward, slow and deliberate, the hem of the flannel swaying against your bare thighs. “Wasn’t planning to.”

His eyes tracked every movement—down, then up again, lingering like he was trying to memorize you in case you vanished.

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna make a big deal out of it,” he murmured.

You stopped just in front of him, tilted your head, lips curling into something dangerous and fond. “I lied.”

And then, because he hadn’t moved—because he was still standing there like the ground had been stolen out from under him—you reached out, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath the fabric to trace the lines of his abdomen, slow and reverent.

That did it.

His breath stuttered.

And then his mouth was on yours.

There was nothing hesitant about it—nothing soft. His hands gripped your hips with a heat that bordered on desperate, dragging you against him in one fluid motion. You gasped into him, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his tee, tugging, needing.

He kissed like a man starved—long, deep, almost feral—and when he pulled back just enough to breathe, his voice was wrecked.

“Tell me this isn’t just for show,” he rasped. “Tell me you want this.”

You cupped his face in both hands, breathless, smiling like a woman on fire. “Sam Winchester, if you don’t take me apart right now, I will find someone else who appreciates birthday traditions.”

That earned you a growl—a real one, low and dangerous, pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

And then you were moving.

Or maybe he was.

The world tilted.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and he was crowding into your space, mouth at your neck, one hand sliding beneath the flannel to splay wide across your lower back.

“You’re insane,” he whispered against your skin.

“And yet,” you said, arching into him with a sigh, “here we are.”

The flannel slipped from your shoulders.

His shirt followed.

Then jeans. Then logic. Then time itself.

Sam's fingers walked up your thigh, hesitating briefly before pushing your leg up and open. He nuzzled in closer, his breath warm against your inner thigh. "You know, I always thought birthdays were overrated," he murmured, "but now I'm reconsidering. Especially with how that little skittle is looking at me."

You let out a soft laugh, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Little skittle?" you asked surprised at his choice of wording, your voice teasing as you felt his stubble rough against your sensitive skin. He chuckled knowing it was something he always wanted to say and today was the day. He shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver.

Sam's hand slid up your inner thigh, his thumb brushing your swollen clit. He looked up at you with those intense eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. "I mean, what better way to spend my birthday than worshipping the goddess of my bed?"

You bit your lip, suppressing a moan as his thumb made small, deliberate circles. "Goddess, huh?" you teased, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing heat between your legs. He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he slipped a finger inside you.

"Mmhmm," he murmured, curling his finger inside you as his thumb continued its torturously slow circles. He could feel you getting slicker by the second, see the desire flickering in your eyes. He added another finger, stretching you slowly. "Spread your legs more, sweetheart. "

You complied, spreading your legs wider, giving him better access. He groaned softly at the sight, his fingers moving deeper and faster inside you. "God, you're so wet," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. He leaned down to press a kiss to your clit, sucking gently.

You gasped, your back arching as he combined his fingers and mouth. He was relentless, his fingers hitting that spot inside you while his tongue worked your clit. He hummed against you, the vibration sending shocks through your body. "Sam..." you moaned, your hands gripping the sheets tightly.

He looked up at you, his fingers still moving inside you, his mouth glistening with your wetness. "Yeah?" he asked innocently, knowing damn well what he was doing to you. He sucked your clit into his mouth again, harder this time, making you cry out.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna come," you stuttered, feeling the pressure building inside you. He didn't stop, if anything he doubled down, his fingers curling hard inside you as he sucked and licked mercilessly. "Come for me," he growled against your clit.

You did, your body convulsing as you came undone. He didn't let up, riding out your orgasm with you until you were a shaking, panting mess. Only then did he slowly pull his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth to suck your taste off them.

He held you through it, one hand braced against the headboard, the other tangled in your hair.

After, when the fire had dulled to embers and your breath came slow and steady again, he collapsed beside you with a groan.

“I think I blacked out,” you muttered.

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Happy birthday to me, baby.”

He rolled onto his side, eyes heavy-lidded, hand curling around your thigh. “You planning to sing too?”

“Only if you behave. And not call it a skittle again.”

Sam chuckled—low and lazy—and let his hand drift higher.

“I like calling it that. And if that gets you all angry, then I guess I’m gonna be real misbehaved, then.”

And at that moment, Sam knew he was the happiest man alive and ever will be.

My special people: @dianawinchester03 @plasticflowersinahistorycemetery @cheynovak @losers-clvb @lila-lou @mahi-wayy @bettystonewell @hobby27 @jmoonk @lillys-cutesy-world @velvourne @j2archives @sacr1ficialang3l @maddie0101 @daylighted @crowleysmistress (basically the whole Sam winchester fan base) I keep forgetting tags I'm sorry. Also sorry to scare you for tagging you even if you didn't ask me to. I'm Sam's sweetheart and I couldn't help but share. ♡♡♡♡♡

[jmoonk]

upcoming fics along with artist!ben collab with @daylighted !!

brown!reader series about to be updated before @jmoonk and @yawnzshit decide to kill me in my sleep 🫡🫡

☆ note : if anyone of you all on this hellsite steal these ideas or shit I will report your ass okay don't try to be cute with me!! 🥰🥰

[jmoonk]

Mahi is paying for my next therapy session

hyperspecific thoughts i have about ben!!!

I do not take responsibility for the emotional damage you suffer 🫡🫡

¹Ben the strongest supe with no fears and defeat ever but also the Ben who panicked the moment his nose picked up that gas.

²Ben who fought tooth and nail with whatever strength that was left in him after that blast but ultimately scumbed to that damn gas.

³Ben who's weirdly used to tight dark spaces where breathing is a little tough because he used hide in closest when his father was in particular bad moods.

⁴Ben who was internally conflicted about finding out his son, who wanted to take time with the decision but couldn't bcz he had a promise to keep.

⁵Ben who has nightmares running on loop when he's "put away for good"

⁶Ben who gets triggered when someone gets too close, tensing and ready to attack bcz he's still a little boy scared of his father.

⁷Ben who was overwhelmed when his ears started hearing everything clearer and louder after compound V but didn't say a word.

⁸Ben who has panic attack in his room after his father gave him a lecture on easy way out, who covered his mouth with one hand bcz his dad hated a man crying.

⁹Ben who had a narcissistic mother who made him felt guilty about feeling resentment for his father.

¹⁰Ben who doesn't remember who he wanted to be before his father wanted a "man" as his son.

tags : @bluemerakis @deansbeer @daylighted @soldiersgirl @h8aaz @titsout4jackles @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @jmoonk @yawnzshit let me know if I forgot you or you want to be added or removed!!

[jmoonk]

Ty for the tag<3 @mostlymarvelgirl

I do have a RBF, but I promise I'm nice:)

Also not autistic btw😭💀

No pressure tag: @melwnst @vmiina @marsinmarz @mahi-wayy @rositaslabyrinth @pome-seed @southernimpala @soldiersgirl @deanstubble @daylighted @gh0stlightss @jasvtsc

saw this "which jellycat are you" quiz and had to do it, it's just too cute <333

npt 🏷️: @foodiegoogie @msmk11 @godricgryffinsnore @notyaslol @g0lden-sky @g1rld1ary @moonpascal @lupinsweater @laufeysvalentine @lydiasfalling + anyone who wants to join!

[jmoonk]

I'm pretty sure everyone I know has been tagged already😬

Ignore if you've been tagged and reposted already: @melwnst @vmiina @pome-seed @rositaslabyrinth @southernimpala @soldiersgirl @deanstubble @daylighted @gh0stlightss @h8aaz @jasvtsc @marsinmarz @mahi-wayy

 A friend threatened me to repost so I will!

Basically, there r tons of fake asses on tumblr who just want comments and followers, so someone started this to see who's actually a good friend. Everyone I tag better repost (and tag other people and preferably threaten them in a creative way as well) bc I'm high on caffeine and newfound lesbianism and will resort to violence.

@ey-theys-was-coronas

@fangirlhehe

I would tag more people but they're the only ones I've really interacted with-