thewinchesters-pants

[thewinchesters-pants]

AGHHH I LOVE 🥳😩

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Fantasy

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Exploring kinks with Dean.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings/tags: Smut! (18+), Car wash, Dean's baby cleaning his baby 😜, semi public sex, fluff, swearing, dirty talk, established relationship.

AN: Another one to add to this Kinky-ass series 😅, it was an idea that just came to me and was fun to explore! I hope you guys like this one 💕

Main Masterlist

SEDW Masterlist

The summer heat hung thick in the air at the Salvage Yard. The scent of oil, rust, and sunbaked metal mixing with the warm breeze. Rows of old, abandoned cars stretched across the yard, their hoods popped open like gaping mouths, skeletons of machines long past their prime. 

Bobby’s house stood sturdy and weathered in the centre of it all, with its wraparound porch that held so much history and too many late-night whiskey-fuelled conversations. The old barn loomed in the distance, its doors slightly ajar, housing Bobby’s collection of spare parts, weapons, and God knows what else.

It was quiet now—eerily so. Sam and Bobby had taken off for a supply run, leaving you and Dean alone. And while he was inside tinkering with something—probably cleaning one of his guns for the fifth time today—you were outside, preparing a little surprise.

Dean had let slip a couple of nights ago—after a few celebratory drinks of another case done and dealt with, at the local dive in town— that he had a fantasy. Not some ordinary, run-of-the-mill kink. No, something that was more personal to him. 

His girl, washing his Baby. 

He’d gone into great detail how nothing could be hotter—his two greatest loves, together, covered in soap and water.

And who were you to deny him this fantasy?

Smirking to yourself, you dragged an old radio from the garage, setting it down on the workbench. You placed the cassette tape, you’d dug out of Dean’s box of his beloved tapes, into the compartment and with a flick of the volume dial to the max, the opening chords of Pour Some Sugar on Me blasted through the humid afternoon, cutting through the quiet.

It wasn’t 30 seconds later, the screen door was creaking open.

“The hell?” Dean’s voice floated out, rough with confusion. You didn’t turn to look just yet. You knew exactly what was about to happen.

You dipped the oversized sponge into the bucket of warm, soapy water, wringing it out just enough before gliding it over the hood of the Impala. The sun gleamed off the wet metal, tiny rivulets of water dripping down the sleek black curves of Baby’s body. You bit your lip, pretending to be completely unaware of the way Dean had stopped dead in his tracks.

When you did glance up, you found him standing there, frozen on the back porch, his entire expression comically dumbstruck.

His jaw had quite literally dropped.

A slow, wicked smirk pulled at your lips. Oh, yeah. You had him.

You gave the hood another slow swipe then, for good measure, and bent just a little further than necessary, your tiny denim shorts riding even higher, clinging to the curve of your ass. The white tank top you wore clung to your skin like a second layer, teasing the lace of your bra underneath. 

You could feel his eyes roaming over you, hungry and dark, his entire body going still in that telltale way that meant his self-control was hanging by a damn thread.

Dean let out a strangled groan. “Son of a bitch.”

You kept up the show, swaying your hips in time with the music, letting the heat of the sun mix with the heat of his stare. Then, like you were in some sinful 2000s music video, you lifted the sponge, squeezing it over your chest. Cool, soapy water cascaded down your skin, soaking your tank top completely see-through.

Dean actually stumbled forward a step, like some invisible force was dragging him closer.

“Jesus, fuck.” His voice barely made it past his lips, breathless with something between awe and agony.

You dragged the sponge over your body, teasing, slow, torturous, wringing every ounce of restraint from him. Rolling your hips to the beat, you stretched across the Impala’s hood, putting on a show until the final strums of the song faded out.

Grinning, you turned fully to face him, leaning back against the slick metal, watching the way his chest rose and fell. The way his fists clenched at his sides, his body taut with restraint.

“So…” You tilted your head, your smirk coy. “Is this everything you imagined?”

Dean didn’t answer.

He moved.

In one swift motion, he closed the distance, gripping your waist and lifting you onto the hood with effortless strength. The cool metal met your bare thighs, shocking a gasp from your lips—one he swallowed as his mouth crashed onto yours.

The kiss was desperate, hungry. Claiming.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, arching into him, feeling just how much he’d enjoyed the show. His hands roamed your back, fingers digging into your hips as he dragged you closer, like he couldn’t get enough. The heat of his body, the rough denim of his jeans between your legs—it was intoxicating.

He kissed you like a man starved, all tongue and teeth, devouring you, owning you.

You whimpered when his lips trailed lower, his stubble scraping deliciously against your damp skin.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he growled, voice thick with want, hands gripping your ass as he rocked against you.

You moaned at the friction, rolling your hips into him, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging just to hear the sharp hiss that left his lips.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.

Your breath hitched as he ground against you, slow and deliberate, teasing himself as much as you.

“As much as I’d love to take my time with you,” Dean panted, his voice ragged, “I’m afraid we don’t have a lotta time.”

Your lips curled into a wicked smirk as you dragged your nails down his chest, over the fabric of that grey tee of his, the one that clung to his biceps and broad shoulders. “Then we better make it quick.”

You husked against his lips and then caught his plush bottom lip between your teeth, tugging just enough to make him groan deep in his chest, and that was all it took. Dean all but growled before crashing his lips against yours once more, the kiss hot and filthy. 

His large hand framed your jaw, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting past your lips, swallowing your breath like he couldn’t get enough of you.

His hands were everywhere—skimming down your sides, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass before finally cupping your breasts through the soaked fabric of your top. A sharp gasp left you when he pulled away, yanking the dampened fabric over your head and tossing it somewhere behind him. 

Without hesitation, he tugged the cups of your lace-bra down, freeing your breasts to the warm summer air before his mouth was on you, hot and hungry, sucking, nipping, lavishing you in wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Fuck, baby,” you whimpered, arching into him, your fingers fisting into his hair as the ache between your legs turned unbearable.

Dean groaned against your skin before pulling back just enough to flick open the button of your shorts, yanking them and your panties down in one swift motion. You barely had time to shiver before his hands were between your thighs, his fingers trailing over your slick heat, teasing, pressing just enough to have you trembling.

“Shit, baby,” he rasped, dragging his fingers through your wetness, spreading it before pressing the pads of two fingers against your aching clit. “Already so fuckin’ soaked for me.”

Your head fell back, a breathy moan slipping past your lips as he started working you open, circling your bundle of nerves with slow, deliberate strokes. He knew exactly how to touch you—his practiced hand moving with confidence, like he was playing a damn fiddle, pulling every little sound from you with ease.

Your thighs twitched, hips rolling into his hand, but he wasn’t about to let you slip away from him. His free arm slid around your back, pulling you against him, keeping you close, keeping you steady. You weren’t going anywhere—not until he was done with you.

“Dean,” you gasped, clinging to his bicep, your other hand gripping his shirt as he slid one thick finger inside you, curling it just right. Your walls clenched around him, the stretch not nearly enough, but he took his time, teasing you, dragging his finger in and out before adding a second.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice low and sinful as he thrust his fingers deep, curling them against that spot that had you gasping. “Goddamn, sweetheart… you’re squeezing me so tight.”

His thumb found your clit again, circling, pressing, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His arm around your back tightened, anchoring you, his body pressed firm against yours as he worked you apart with ruthless precision.

The tension coiled in your stomach, tightening with every stroke, every flick, until you were right there, teetering on the edge.

Dean leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, voice rough and dripping with possession. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it.”

A broken cry tore from your throat as your orgasm hit, your body arching into him, back bowing as pleasure wracked your frame. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, thighs trembling, hands fisting his shirt as he worked you through it. His deep groan vibrated against your skin, his grip on you firm, grounding you as you came undone beneath him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he praised, fingers slowing but never stopping, drawing out every last pulse. His free hand smoothed up your back, keeping you close, pressing you against his heat as you shuddered.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your throat before dragging his slick fingers to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum. “You taste so fuckin’ sweet.”

Still panting, you reached for his belt, fingers fumbling in your urgency, desperate to feel him inside you. Dean wasted no time helping, shoving the leather free and popping the button of his jeans, his cock already hard and aching as he shoved them down just enough to free himself.

Your breath hitched as you wrapped your fingers around him, the heat of him searing against your palm. He was thick, heavy, veins pulsing beneath your touch as you stroked him from base to tip. A deep, guttural groan tore from his throat, his hips jerking into your grip as his head tipped back, lips parted on a ragged breath.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he rasped, his hands gripping your thighs, like he was grounding himself in you.

You let your thumb sweep over the weeping tip, smearing his precum, feeling the way he twitched under your touch. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing, and fuck, you swore you could watch him like this forever—his body taut with need, barely holding himself together.

But Dean had other plans.

With a rough growl, he pried your hand away and pressed you back onto the hood of the Impala, the metal warm against your spine, sending a shiver through you. His hands spread your thighs wide, his gaze roaming over your flushed, wrecked body like he was committing you to memory.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, palming himself as he stroked his cock, his eyes dark and hungry. “You look so goddamn good like this. My girl. My Baby.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, your walls fluttering around nothing as you whined for him, arching, desperate. That was all it took.

Dean lined himself up and thrust in with one smooth, devastating stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The both of you moaned—loud, unrestrained—as he stretched you open, filling you completely. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he stilled, savouring the heat of you wrapped around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours, his breath hot, ragged. “So goddamn tight, baby.”

A whimper slipped from your lips, your hands clawing for grip on the slick metal as you tried to rock your hips, but his grip on your thighs kept you pinned beneath him. The stretch of him was almost too much, the delicious burn leaving you trembling, but it wasn’t enough—not yet.

“Dean, baby" you gasped, voice breathless, needy. "Please. Move. Fuck me."

Your plea shattered whatever restraint he had left.

Then he moved.

There was no holding back, no slow build—just pure, unrelenting need as he started fucking into you, hard and fast. The Impala rocked beneath you, the metal creaking under the force of his thrusts, and every time you jolted higher, he yanked you back down onto him, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The sound of skin slapping, the wet, filthy noises of him pounding into you filled the air, mingling with your desperate cries and his gritted curses. Every thrust sent you spiralling higher, every drag of his cock against that perfect spot making your vision blur.

Dean was unraveling just as fast, his grip tightening, his groans turning into something deeper, almost desperate. His lips found yours in a searing, messy kiss, his teeth catching your bottom lip before he broke away, panting against your mouth.

“Gonna come for me again, sweetheart?” he growled, his hand slipping between you to rub tight circles over your clit, driving you closer to the edge. “C’mon, baby. Let me feel you.”

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up, pleasure ripping through you, your walls clenching around him as you came with a cry. The way you squeezed him had him cursing, his rhythm faltering, his breath shuddering.

“Shit—fuck, baby—” His hips stuttered, and then he was right there with you, groaning deep as he buried himself to the hilt, his release spilling inside you, hot and thick.

He slumped against you, both of you breathless, shaking, bodies slick with sweat. His hand smoothed up your side, soothing, grounding, before he pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk.

“Damn,” he chuckled, voice wrecked. “Might be the best ride I’ve ever had in this car.”

You rolled your eyes, but the breathless laughter still bubbled out of you. "You’re such a dork." You smacked his shoulder lightly, a mix of jest and silent demand for him to help you up. He did, pulling you against his chest, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips.

When he pulled back, his green eyes were softer now, something unspoken lingering between you both. His fingers traced along your jaw, his thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips.

"Thank you," he murmured, voice quieter now, more reverent. "For this… for everything."

Your heart squeezed at the sincerity in his gaze, and you cupped his cheek, stroking your thumb over the rough stubble. "Anything for you."

Dean exhaled, something almost like relief washing over his expression before he kissed you once more—slower this time, less desperate, more savouring. His hands lingered on your hips, his thumb brushing soft circles against your skin, grounding you in the moment.

But before you could get lost in him again, you reluctantly slipped away, heading inside to clean up and change. The last thing you needed was to look like you’d just been thoroughly fucked on the hood of Dean’s beloved car—especially with Bobby and Sam due back any minute.

By the time you descended the steps—now looking far more presentable—you caught sight of Dean through the hall window. A smirk tugged at your lips as you watched him, his focus entirely on the Impala, washing away lingering suds and ensuring not a single trace of your time together remained. Of course, he had to finish her off too. Pun intended.

You bit your lip, amused at the sight, but before you could enjoy it any longer, the familiar rumble of Bobby’s truck rolling up the dirt driveway snapped you from your thoughts.

Bobby stepped out first, casting a suspicious glance toward Dean, while Sam followed, his gaze narrowing as he watched his brother casually running a drying cloth over the hood.

“Didn’t you just clean her yesterday?” Sam asked, brows furrowing.

Dean hesitated for only a fraction of a second before smirking, his comeback effortless, at least so he thought. “Yeah, well… she got a little dirty.”

AN: This was a fun little one to write 😆. Ofc Dean's fantasy would be something like this, simple but effective. I hope you guys liked this one ❤️, feedback is always appreciated 😊

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 😊

Dean Winchester Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

@piptoost @star-yawnznn @deansimpalababy @megara0224 @hobby27

@idontwannabehere78 @maddie0101 @kr804573 @shadysoulangel @mrs-nesmith

@zepskies @ohheyguyss @suckitands33 @ultimatecin73 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@arcannaa @aylacavebear @bobbdylann @jaredpadonlyyyy @waynes-multiverse

@impala67stellawinchester @youroldfashioned @bonbonnie88 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @bejeweledinterludes

@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[thewinchesters-pants]

Reminiscing About Last Night…

This kinda went off in its own direction, but I hope you like it! It’s not looked over by anyone other than me so all mistakes are my own. As always:

18+ only! Swearing and smut below the cut! Feel free to like and reblog, and comments make my day :)

You had decided to join the guys on this hunt, having been tired of being locked up in the bunker for the last few weeks. Sure, you mainly did the research and were a lead point for them but Dean still liked to have you sitting in the backseat of Baby every once in a while. The three of you had discussed what this meeting was going to entail and the parts you had to play in it while driving through town on the way to the church where the stories had began. You were to play one of the women who was trying to reclaim her virginity through the church and had found the meeting through passing conversations since you were “new in town.”

“Won’t God, you know… frown on that? Because I’m not actually trying to reclaim it?” You had asked, quietly laughing to yourself when you caught Dean’s heated gaze through the rear view mirror.

“I’m sure He’ll be alright with it. Since you’re savin’ people, sweetheart.” Dean replied, winking at you as he drove through the streets.

The boys had claimed the same story you had and were allowed to sit in on the meeting, too. You actually participated and chatted with the other women but your interest was piqued when their attention all turned to the eldest Winchester. His cheeks had dusted pink and he was doing his best not to lock eyes with you as he spoke. You could tell he was nervous as his palms rubbed against his jeans, and his breath caught in the back of his throat. Your own legs had to cross as you really leaned in to hear the last bits of his story.

“But when you get down to it, what’s the big deal? Sure, there’s the touching and the feeling all over.”

My booted foot was slung over the front seat of the Impala, the other tucked against the door while Dean somehow managed to cover my body with his larger one. He had a thigh shoved between my spread legs and one of his hands had both of mine pinned above my head. We shared the same air as he kissed me like his life depended on it, his tongue claiming my mouth as his free hand trailed from my ribs and down to the hem of my shirt.

��My hands everywhere, tracing every inch of her body.“

I couldn’t help but moan as his hand slowly started pushing up my shirt until it rested just above my collarbone, the black lace of my bra on full display and covering the swells of my breasts. He finally let me catch a breath and flex my fingers as he rested his weight on one arm while the other moved to tilt my jaw to one side so he could mouth wet kisses and beard-burnt bites into the skin of my neck and shoulder.

“The two of us moving together, pressing, pulling, grinding.”

One of my boots was tossed into the front seat and my jeans were hanging from the foot still draped over the backrest while my other leg was wrapped around his waist. My arms wound around his shoulders and my fingers clawed at his back while he teased his way inside me. The windows of the Impala fogged and the darkness from the night surrounding Baby hid how we made desperate love, clinging to these moments where it was just the two of us.

“And then you hit that sweet spot and everything just builds..”

There were red scratches across his shoulders, little half-moon indents where my nails dug into his skin. His face tucked into my neck, the damp heat from his panting breath making the hair around my temples curl.

“And builds..”

His arm that wasn’t holding his weight slid between our joined bodies to where I was throbbing and desperate for him, his slender fingers rubbing tight circles into my pulsing clit.

“And builds…”

My back arches, hips meeting his thrusts as my climax slithers down my spine and sends heat straight to my core. Dean notices and groans low, deep and guttural as his fingers speed up to make me fall apart before he does. Always a giver, like he gets off on seeing me get off.

“Until it all just…”

My neck arches too, mouth falling open as a plea for him to fall off the edge with me escapes my lips. He nods, feral and drunk off euphoria as his hips pick up the pace to match the way he’s toying with my sensitive clit. Seeing his eyes close and lips draw between his teeth to keep his moans quiet sends me flying off the edge without warning. The only words I can hear myself moan are “Dean” and “please.”

“Boom.”

The rocking of the Impala stops as he clings to me, face buried and head empty as he cums deep within me. I come back to reality first and my fingers start carding through his damp, sweaty hair while I rub softly along his back.

[thewinchesters-pants]

I love 🥹🥳

birthday surprise

summary: It’s your birthday, and you think dean has forgotten, but you’re completely wrong as he surprises you with a few things you’ve always dreamed about.

warnings: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (mdni), cute surprise for the reader, dean is so thoughtful, impala sex, heavy makeout, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, semi public sex (but dean & the reader could care less), cute shit tbh.

word count: 5.6k

note: in honor of my birthday I decided to write this smutty little oneshot to celebrate! 🤭 I hope you guys enjoy! ☻

Dean forgot your birthday.

At least, that’s what it seemed like. The whole damn day had passed, and he hadn’t said a word. No offhand comment in the morning, no teasing remark over coffee, no gruff, half-assed “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

—Nothing.

And it hurt...more than you wanted to admit.

Because sure, it wasn’t like birthdays had ever been a big deal in your life. You weren’t expecting balloons or cake or some grand gesture.

But a mention? A quick acknowledgment that today wasn’t just any other day? That would’ve been nice.

But instead, Dean had spent the day being… well, Dean. Fixing the Impala, cracking jokes with Sam, arguing about dinner plans. Acting like today (or whatever the hell the date was) didn’t mean a damn thing.

By the time the sun started to set, you’d accepted it. Forced yourself to shake it off. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal. He’s probably just distracted.

But then, out of nowhere his voice rings out through the bunker. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s go for a ride.”

You blink at him from your spot on the couch, arms crossed over your chest. “What?”

Dean just smirks, jerking his head toward the door. “You deaf now? Let’s go. Got somethin’ to show you.”

For a second, you debate telling him to shove it. Making up some excuse to stay behind and wallow. But there’s something in his expression—something warm and teasing that makes you exhale sharply and push yourself up. “Fine.”

You don’t ask questions. You just climb into the Impala, feeling the familiar hum of the engine vibrate through your bones as Dean peels out of the parking lot. The windows are rolled down, the night air cool against your skin, and despite yourself, you feel some of the tension slip away.

Dean doesn’t talk much, just lets the radio fill the silence, his fingers tapping against the wheel as he drives. And then twenty minutes later you see it.

Your stomach flips, a mix of excitement and disbelief bubbling in your chest. The neon sign flickers in the distance, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over the lot, illuminating the rows of cars already parked and waiting. A massive screen stands against the dark sky with previews playing as people settle in with their popcorn and sodas.

Dean pulls into a spot near the back, maneuvering the Impala with ease before killing the engine. The sudden quiet makes the air feel heavier, more intimate. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at you, one arm slung over the back of the bench seat, lips twitching into a smirk. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Your breath catches. And for a second, you don’t say anything, just blink at him like you’re trying to piece together how the hell you got here—how you went from sulking all day, convinced Dean had completely forgotten you, to this.

Dean chuckles, shaking his head. Then, before you can find words, he reaches into the backseat.

Rustling and the sound of plastic crinkling causes your brows to furrow. What the--

A bag lands in your lap, heavy with all your favorite snacks. The ones you always pick up at gas stations when you’re on the road together. The ones you didn’t even realize he noticed.

Next comes a couple of cold drinks, condensation beading on the outside of the bottles. Then, the final touch—your favorite blanket, soft and familiar, smelling faintly of fabric softener and the Impala’s leather interior.

“I didn’t forget,” Dean says simply. “Just wanted to make it a surprise.”

A lump forms in your throat. You swallow hard, fingers curling around the blanket, trying not to let how much this means to you show too obviously on your face. “You’re such an asshole,” you mutter, voice shaky with something that is not sadness.

Dean grins. “You’re welcome.”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head, and as if on cue, the screen changes—the opening credits of your favorite movie rolling in big, golden letters against the night sky.

Your heart stops. “You—” You whip your head toward him. “You got them to play this?”

Dean shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Nah. Just got lucky. Guess it’s fate.”

Fate. You don’t know why that word makes something warm curl in your chest, but it does.

The movie starts, the familiar soundtrack swelling through the old, crackly speakers. The air smells like buttered popcorn and the faint trace of summer rain on asphalt, and for the first time all day, you feel seen. Like Dean knew exactly how to fix what he’d broken, like he knew exactly how much this would mean to you.

As movie plays on, the familiar scenes wash over you. Without thinking, you shift a little closer, tugging the blanket over both your legs. The cool air nips at your skin, but it’s not the chill that makes you move, not really. It’s just the way the space between you and Dean seems to stretch out, like it’s begging to be filled. You’re not sure what’s happening, but it feels like something’s been hanging in the air all night.

Dean doesn’t pull away, doesn’t even really react. He just gives you that smirk, half amused, half something else you can’t quite put your finger on, and his eyes flick to yours.

Not the teasing kind of glance you’ve gotten a thousand times, but something a little more… hungry? Something that makes your stomach tighten, that pulls your chest in with a slow, desperate pull.

You look away, pretending to focus on the screen, but it’s like you can feel him in your bones, right there next to you. The warmth of his body, the scent of leather and gasoline, the subtle hint of cologne that lingers in the air like he’s impossible to escape.

“Comfy?” His voice cuts through the stillness, and it’s deeper now, less playful.

You hum, your voice betraying you as it comes out a little softer than you intended. “Mm. Could be a little warmer.”

Dean’s laugh rumbles out low, rough around the edges, like he’s trying to hide something. It’s the kind of laugh that makes you want to press closer, see if you can crack the shell he’s been putting up around himself for years.

But you don’t. You just try to act normal, even though your pulse is racing under the weight of his arm slowly sliding over your shoulders, pulling you into him.

It’s like his touch knows exactly what you need before you even have to ask for it. Warmth. Comfort. Something more...His fingers brush against your arm, and it’s soft, like he’s not even thinking about how much it makes you feel.

But the thing is, he is definitely thinking about it. He’s been thinking about it for way too long.

Dean’s fingers linger a second longer than they should, and he knows it. But he can’t help it.

He’s wanted this for so fucking long, wanted you for so long, it aches in his chest every time he breathes.

There’s a moment where everything is too much—the heat of him close to you, the way his chest rises and falls with every breath, the way the night air feels like it’s getting thicker, like the whole world is holding its breath along with him.

And then he just… stops pretending.

He lets his hand drop down, his fingers gently cupping your shoulder. It’s not just a casual touch anymore. It’s tender. He’s treating you like you might shatter if he moves too fast, like he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold this back before he fucking loses it.

Dean’s throat tightens, the words sitting at the back of his mouth, and for the first time in a long while, he’s not sure what to do. He’s spent so long keeping his feelings locked up, pretending he doesn’t want you in ways that make his heart race, that make his skin burn.

He looks at you, his eyes soft but full of something heavier than any of the bullshit he’s used to hiding behind. God, you make him feel like he’s breathing for the first time.

“I—” Dean swallows, his voice tight. “You don’t know how much I—” He cuts himself off, lips pressing together as if he can’t get the words out.

He wants to say it. He wants to tell you how every time you smile, it feels like the world shifts in the right direction. How every time you’re near, his chest feels too tight, like it can’t hold in all the love he feels for you. How his heart aches when you laugh and the world feels like it’s finally clicking into place, but he’s scared. Scared that if he says it out loud, he’ll ruin everything.

And he can’t lose you, not when you’re so close.

Dean’s hand stays where it is, resting on your shoulder, but it feels like he’s holding you together in some way, like he’s afraid if he lets go, everything will fall apart.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. His eyes, once dark and unreadable at first, are now soft as they trace over your features. They flick from your eyes to your lips, to the curve of your jaw, the way your hair falls over your shoulder. He studies you like he’s trying to memorize every detail, trying to burn it into his mind in case the moment passes.

Dean's gaze is intense but gentle, a combination that makes your heart race in your chest, your breath coming a little quicker than usual. You try to ignore it. You try to focus on the movie, to keep your eyes glued to the screen and not let yourself feel the weight of his stare.

But you can’t. It’s like he’s pulling you in without even trying, like you’re helpless to the gravity of whatever this is between you.

Then, without realizing it, you slowly turn your head, your eyes flicking to his.

Dean’s gaze doesn’t move; it stays locked on yours, and when you look up at him, it’s like the world sharpens into focus.

He’s closer than you thought. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, close enough that every subtle shift in his expression sends a jolt through your chest.

And then, for the briefest moment, you feel it. The intense heat between you and your eyes flick down to his lips, unable to stop yourself.

Dean doesn’t miss it. His lips part and his breath catches as his eyes drop to yours. His gaze softens impossibly more, as if that is even possible. And when you look back up at him, your pupils blown wide, the space between you disappears in an instant.

Dean’s hand moves from your shoulder to your face, cupping your jaw with a surprising gentleness that contrasts with the hunger in his eyes.

And then, without a word, he leans in. There’s no hesitation in his movement, but there’s something careful in the way he does it—like he’s afraid to startle you, like he’s making sure this moment is real. The space between you disappears, and then his lips graze yours, featherlight at first, barely there. A quiet, searching touch. His breath is warm against your skin, mixing with yours in the small space between heartbeats. He lingers, as if giving you the chance to pull away, to stop this before it can become something he can’t take back.

But you don’t.

Something in you unravels and without hesitating you instantly kiss him back. The moment you do, it’s like a floodgate opens. Warmth spreads through you, deep and consuming, wrapping around your ribs like something you’ve been starved for.

His lips are warm, softer than you expected but still undeniably Dean. It's like he’s trying to memorize this, like he’s afraid it’ll slip through his fingers if he moves too fast.

But Dean presses in just a little more, deepening the kiss by fractions, like he’s testing the weight of something fragile in his hands. Like he’s terrified he’ll break it. There’s nothing rushed about it, nothing reckless—just the slow, aching realization that this is happening, that neither of you are running from it this time.

A quiet sound escapes Dean, low and soft, and he tilts his head, deepening the kiss just enough to make your pulse stutter.

As the kiss deepens, slow at first, but then something shifts—something turning raw and urgent. Dean moves closer, his fingers twitching where they hover near your jaw, like he’s fighting the instinct to grab, to pull, to take.

Your lips part, just barely, and that’s all the invitation he needs. He presses in, the kiss turning hungry, desperate, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments this almost happened but didn’t.

His hand finally moves, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your head just right as he claims your mouth with something deeper, something needy.

A soft moan escapes you and fuck, it does something to him. A slow-burning fire turns into a full-blown inferno, that quiet, careful control snapping like a frayed thread. He groans against your lips, low and rough, his other hand landing on your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make you feel trapped—but in the best way.

The air in the impala turns thick, charged with something electric. Your hands find him, gripping the front of his jacket, like you need something solid to hold onto, like you need him. He responds instantly, his body shifting toward yours, chest pressed against yours now, heat radiating between you.

Dean pulls back just enough to breathe, but it’s not enough distance—not when his hands are still on you, gripping like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. His forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven, and for a moment, all he does is look at you. Like he’s memorizing you, like he’s trying to make sense of what just happened—of what’s been happening between you for longer than either of you have admitted.

Then, almost like he can’t stop himself, the words slip out. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you.”

The confession hits the air between you like a spark to gasoline, and he doesn’t stop there. His grip tightens just slightly, and he exhales a shaky, almost disbelieving laugh, his mouth twitching like he can’t believe he’s saying this out loud.

“Jesus, I—” He shakes his head, eyes flickering between yours, searching, desperate. “I don’t even know how to say it right. It’s just—you. It’s always been you. Since day one. And I know I should’ve said something sooner, should’ve—”

You don’t let him finish. You barely even realize what you’re doing as your hand is grips the back of his neck, yanking him back toward you with a force that makes him grunt in surprise.

Your lips crash against his again, harder this time, deeper, as if the kiss is some kind of answer to everything you’ve both been holding in. The softness of his mouth against yours, the heat of his body, the way his hands immediately find your waist, pulling you closer, it all consumes you.

His breath catches as your fingers slide into his hair, tugging him closer still, and it’s no longer slow, no longer tentative. It’s frantic, desperate, like you’ve both waited your whole lives for this moment and now that it’s here, you can’t stop, can’t get close enough.

Dean’s hand moves, sliding down your side, fingers gripping the hem of your shirt like he’s not sure whether to pull it off or just hold you tighter. His lips move against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin, each kiss deeper than the last, and you find yourself gasping for air between kisses, your pulse thrumming so loudly in your ears you’re sure he can hear it too.

You’re lost in him now—in the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed so close it’s like you can’t tell where you end and he begins.

Every movement, every inch of his touch ignites something inside you, building with each passing second. His hands are everywhere, pulling, guiding, needing—as if he’s desperate to make sure this is real, that you’re here with him, just like this.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you, and everything else fades. You can’t breathe, can’t think, only feel.

But then you pull back, just enough to meet his eyes, breathless. “What do you really want for my birthday, Dean?”

He looks at you, eyes dark and full of a hunger that matches your own, lips swollen and red from the kiss. He hesitates, for a fraction of a second, then his thumb brushes against your jaw, his voice low and rough as he asks, “What do you want?”

You hold his gaze, your chest tight with anticipation, but you’re not going to shy away. You gather every ounce of courage, your voice barely more than a whisper, “I want you. Inside of me.”

The air between you both crackles with heat, the words hanging there for a moment that feels like an eternity.

Dean’s entire body goes still. Then something primal flares in his chest, a fire so intense it makes his breath hitch. His hands tighten on your hips, and before you can even process it, a growl rumbles low in his throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he mutters, his lips brushing against yours in a way that promises more. He slams his mouth back onto yours, pulling you in with an urgency that’s almost reckless, like he can’t get close enough.

His kiss deepens, savage, hungry—like he’s claiming you in every way that matters.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your lips, his words a dark, dangerous promise that sends a shiver straight down your spine. “You have no idea what you just did to me.”

His hand moves lower, resting on the curve of your waist, possessive, needy. It’s a whisper of everything he’s been holding back, everything he’s been wanting for far too long. And in that moment, you know nothing else matters except him.

You don’t even notice when the movie’s credits begin to roll or when cars start pulling out of the drive-in.

All that’s in your head, all that matters, is the feeling of Dean, finally, right where you’ve wanted him for so long.

Every inch of him, every touch, every breath shared between you, it’s all that consumes you now.

Electricity pulses between you as Dean’s hands find their way to your hips, pulling you closer with a firm grip. He guides you into his lap, your body instinctively following his lead and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in deeper, tilting your head to give him more of you.

The kiss grows more intense, desperate, as you slowly start to move against him, your hips grinding gently against the hard bulge pressing through his jeans. Every movement ignites something inside both of you, the tension only building with each slow, roll of your hips.

Heat pools low in your stomach as Dean’s hands travel slowly down your thighs, his touch soft until they rest on the curve of your ass.

You gasp against his mouth when his large hands grip you, the sensation only making your hips move instinctively, pressing closer to him.

A soft moan escapes you as Dean nips at your bottom lip, and then, he forcefully thrusts his hips up, pressing into you, making you feel the exact effect you’re having on him.

"Fuck baby. Bet you're dripping f'me." Dean’s intense gaze locks with yours, and the heat in his eyes makes your breath catch.

A soft whimper escapes you as the feeling of him beneath you overwhelms your senses, nearly sending you spinning. It’s almost impossible to believe this is really happening, but in that moment, you couldn’t care less.

You sigh into the kiss as Dean's hands trail down your body, mapping every inch of you his fingers touch. “Dean,” you whimper, your voice barely a breath, “I need you.”

“Where, baby?” Dean teases, his voice low and rough, the words barely a breath as he leans in, his lips brushing your ear "Want me to fuck you? That what you want?"

"Fuck." Is all you manage to whisper, words failing you as he thrusts up into you again, sending the heat pooling in your core to an almost unbearable state.

"Use your words f'me baby." Dean teases, nipping at your ear as soft moans fall from your lips, the sensation making it hard to think clearly.

"Need you inside me, Dean." You whimper, "Need you to fuck me."

Before you can let out another sound, Dean growls low and demanding, “Get in the back.” His tone leaves no room for hesitation, and the urgency in his voice sends a rush of heat through you.

You quickly crawl over the bench seat into the back, moving with eagerly. Dean follows closely, his movements swift.

And before you can fully catch your breath, he’s on top of you, hovering for a moment, his gaze intense, almost searching before he crashes his lips onto yours with a fierce, hungry kiss.

You let out a low moan as Dean's hand started rubbing circles over your clothed core. The feeling sending electric waves through your body.

As Dean presses heated, scattered kisses from your lips down to your jaw, he finally lingers at the soft curve of your neck. A breathy moan escapes you as he finds the most sensitive spot surprisingly fast, his lips latching onto it without hesitation.

"Please, Dean-" you started to beg but let out another moan as Dean slips his fingers past your soaked panties and slips a finger inside you.

A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, only to be swallowed by Dean's mouth as it crashed against yours. As if one finger wasn’t enough, he slipped in a second, the steady rhythm sending shocks of pleasure through your body. Your brows knitted together, the coil in your stomach tightening, burning, desperate to unravel.

"So wet f'me." Dean groans in your mouth as you rock your hips with the motion of his fingers sliding in and out of you. "Been dreaming about this for so long. I can't wait to watch you come."

His words push you over the edge, and a loud moan echoes through the Impala as he keeps guiding you through your high. The feeling is pure euphoria as your body shakes. You’d fantasized about Dean making you come, but experiencing it firsthand is something else entirely.

"That's it. S' beautiful when you come for me." Dean coaxes you on as you ride out your high.

As the haze of pleasure slowly fades, you regain control just enough to grip Dean’s shirt, fingers curling into the fabric as you tug it upward. He lets you, his muscles flexing beneath your touch, and the second it’s over his head, his lips twist into a knowing smirk.

That cocky expression only fuels the fire burning inside you, and before he can get a word out, he’s already helping you out of your own shirt, his hands skimming over your skin with deliberate slowness.

His lips crash back onto yours, hungry and relentless, as the two of you lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. Hands roam, fingers fumble, fabric disappears between fevered kisses.

Before you even realize it, you’re left in nothing but your soaked panties, your skin burning beneath his touch, while Dean hovers over you—completely bare, his body pressed against yours, heat radiating between you.

You barely even catch your breath before the tip of his length was teasing you, causing a whimper to escape from your lips. "Dean quit teasing me." You pout, "need you inside me, now."

"God, I love it when you beg." Dean admits but doesn't give you enough time to make a sarcastic comment before he slowly thrust himself inside of you.

You instantly let out a loud moan when he bottoms out. The feeling of him inside you was better than you could've imagined and his large hands gripped the sides of your thighs. You met him each time he thrusted into you, wanting nothing more than the delicious feeling to never end.

"Fuck you're so tight." Dean groaned, snapping his hips to met yours "This pussy was made for me."

The words only spurred you on as you let out a string of curse words and moaned Dean's name over and over again like a prayer.

The only words you could manage to get through your lips was 'fuck' and 'dean'. Every other word in existence failed to cross your mind.

The coil in your stomach winds tighter and tighter, a smoldering heat spreading through your core. The pressure builds into an almost unbearable burn, every nerve in your body igniting as pleasure coils just beneath the surface, ready to snap.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” Dean growls, his voice thick with desperation. His hips slam into yours in a frantic, uneven rhythm, the control he once had slipping away. You can feel it—he’s right there with you, teetering on the edge, barely holding on as he chases that final, shattering release.

“Dean—” his name spills from your lips in a desperate moan, the last thing you manage before the pleasure crashes over you. He drags his mouth along your neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses, the sensation only intensifying the rush.

Your body trembles beneath him as the release takes hold, your walls fluttering and clenching around him, pulling him deeper into the sweet oblivion.

As the waves of pleasure slowly faded, the two of you lay there, bodies still tangled, breaths heavy and uneven. When you finally met Dean’s gaze, his green eyes were dark and hooded, a lazy smirk playing at his lips.

“I love you,” he murmured, his voice rough yet tender. Then, that signature Dean Winchester grin appeared, teasing but warm. “And I hope you’re not too mad at me for ‘forgetting’ your birthday. Had to throw you off—I wanted to surprise you.”

“I love you too, Dean,” you whispered, your voice soft and full of warmth. A tender smile spread across your lips as your fingers gently traced the curve of his jaw, the touch barely a whisper against his skin. Your gaze lingered on the freckles scattered across his nose and dusting his cheeks, the way they caught the light, making him look even more impossibly perfect.

“And I’m not mad at you,” you continued, your voice almost a sigh. “If anything, I’m more than happy right now.” You paused, your heart swelling as you met his eyes, your smile growing. “It’s honestly the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

Dean’s gaze softens, a warmth flickering in his eyes that makes your heart flutter. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you for a moment, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. His hand moves to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across your skin with a tenderness that feels both new and familiar.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words are something sacred he’s only just realizing.

A rush of heat floods your face at his words, and before you can stop it, the blush blooms across your cheeks. You try to look away, but Dean catches the subtle shift in your expression, his lips curving into a teasing grin.

“Oh, there it is,” he says, his voice low, amused. “Look at you, all flushed. I’ve had you blushing this whole time, haven’t I?”

You try to brush it off, your smile turning shy as you look down, suddenly very aware of the heat spreading through you. “It’s not like that,” you mutter, but your voice betrays you, shaky and uncertain.

Dean leans in slightly, his face full of playful mischief. “Nah, it totally is,” he teases, his hand gently tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. “You’ve been blushing for me since the first damn day we met, haven’t you?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you open your mouth to argue, but the words catch in your throat. He’s right. He’s always had this effect on you, and you’ve never known how to hide it.

Dean chuckles softly, a soft sound that makes your pulse race. “God, it’s so cute,” he continues, his thumb brushing over your cheek again. “I never realized, but now? Now I can’t stop thinking about it. You’re always blushing for me.”

You feel your cheeks heat even more at his words, and you try to turn away, but Dean catches your chin again, keeping your gaze locked with his. “Hey, you’re adorable when you blush. Don’t hide it from me.”

A breathless laugh escapes you, your heart swelling with the tenderness in his words. “You’re impossible,” you whisper, trying to keep the embarrassment at bay, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable.

Dean’s expression softens, his thumb tracing over your cheek in a way that feels intimate and unhurried, like he’s savoring this moment. “You know that, right?” he murmurs, his voice quieter now. “How much I care about you?”

Your heart races in your chest, and for a moment, you just let the words hang in the air. You’ve never been more certain of anything than you are in this moment. Dean looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters, and it makes the blush on your face feel like the most natural thing in the world.

With a teasing grin, Dean adds, “But seriously, you’re way too cute when you blush. Can’t wait to see it more often.”

You shake your head, unable to suppress a smile. “You’re lucky I like you,” you mutter, your voice playful but full of affection.

Dean smiles, leaning in slowly, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “I’m not just lucky, baby. I’m damn lucky,” he whispers, and just as the words leave his lips, the lights to the big screen flicker and die, leaving you both in darkness.

The stillness between you deepens, and before either of you can react, laughter bursts from both of you, the sound mingling with the night air.

“You know,” you say, your forehead resting against his as you both laugh, “we just totally fucked in a drive-in movie theater.”

Dean chuckles, his lips still brushing against your skin as he pulls you closer again, the heat between you both lingering. His hand rests on the small of your back, fingers gently caressing your skin.

“Yeah, and honestly, I’m not even sorry about it,” he mutters, his voice thick with amusement and desire. His lips graze your ear as he speaks, sending a shiver down your spine. “Couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night.”

You look up at him, eyes half-lidded with the same fire that’s still burning in both of you. A teasing grin curves on your lips as you bite your bottom lip, almost shy but too lost in the moment to care.

“Round two?” you ask, your voice breathless, the question hanging between you like an invitation.

Dean doesn’t even hesitate. His eyes darken with a mix of desire and amusement, and before you can blink, he crashes his lips onto yours again, this time with an urgency that takes your breath away.

His hands move to pull you even closer, fingers tracing over your skin, and you feel the weight of him in every touch, every press of his body against yours. The world outside the car, the drive-in, everything blurs into nothing. There’s only Dean, and there’s only you, lost in each other in the most intoxicating way.

When he pulls back, just enough to look at you, his lips are swollen, and his breath comes in heavy pants. He smiles, a slow, satisfied grin that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers, his voice soft, yet laced with something deeper. “I hope this is everything you wanted.”

Your pulse quickens at his words, the warmth in his gaze sending a wave of affection through you. You can’t help but smile, the kind of smile that’s full of everything you’ve felt in these past moments, and everything that’s still swirling between you.

“This was more than perfect, Dean,” you reply, your voice hoarse, but with the honesty that comes from how completely consumed you are by him. “I couldn't have asked for better.”

His smile widens, and he leans in to brush his lips against yours again, a soft, lingering kiss that says everything without needing words. He pulls away slightly, his eyes searching yours, and for a brief moment, the rest of the world fades away again.

“Good,” he murmurs, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek, the softness of the gesture at odds with the intensity of everything before. “Because you deserve a perfect birthday.”

A warm, content feeling spreads through you at his words, and you realize that, in that moment, everything feels right. Dean pulls you close again, wrapping his arms around you, and you let yourself sink into him, into the warmth of his embrace.

And for once, you don’t need to think about what happens next. You’re here, with him, and that’s enough. The perfect birthday, with the most perfect man.

author’s note:

hope y’all enjoyed this one! I had a lot of fun writing it! adding more fluff into my fics slowly! It’s growing on me, hehe! also, huge thank you to @bejeweledinterludes for helping me with the plot! ILY ❤︎

if you have a req you’ve sent in I promise I’m not ignoring it! working on them as fast as I can! It’s just taking me longer since I’ve been cleaning my house and hanging out with my friends :)

— requests are open.ᐟᅟ please read request rules.ᐟᅟ

tags:

@freeluigihesbae @aylacavebear @supernotnatural2005 @bettystonewell @lieutenantchaos @bejeweledinterludes @ambiguous-avery @star-yawnznn @exansation @darkrose064 @megara0224 @saturnsooya @miss-marmalade @xo-zeze @kamisobsessed @megara0224 (lmk if I missed anyone or if you’d like to be taken off the list)

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[thewinchesters-pants]

⟢ — thinking about DEAN needing to pull the impala over on the side of the road because you just can’t keep your hands to yourself .ᐟ

warnings: smut, semi–public car sex, oral (m. receiving), praise, est. relationship (softdom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

𓂃ㅤ . ⟡ ㅤׄㅤ

“i said quit it,” dean muttered and switched off the impala’s engine, the rumbling sound dying out into a smooth silence. he turned to you, and a challenging grin spread across his face, “you just can’t control yourself, can you?”

a hearty laugh bubbled up your throat as he grabbed your wrist, his warm hand pulling it away from the now prominent bulge in his jeans, which strained against the dark denim. “come on, you just look so good today, dean. i can’t help it,” you said through your chuckles.

dean scoffed at your words, pulling you closer. “oh, yeah? you just can't help it? you’re in for it now, sweetheart.”

dean pinned your wrist to your chest, keeping your wandering hand hostage as he dove in and kissed you. you gasped, and dean seized the opportunity, slipping his tongue between your parted lips to tangle with yours, teasing and desperate as he dominated your mouth. his movements were demanding, and you felt the need in his kiss. the frustration.

he moaned wantonly, breaking the kiss and pulling back to look at you. his green irises had shrunk from his blown-out pupils, dilating with desire. he murmured quietly as his eyes searched yours, “in the backseat. now, baby.”

his voice was low, but biting with an eagerness that made your thighs clench. it took the pair of you less than ten seconds to reach the backseat, fervently finding each other’s lips again with ease. your teeth clashed and your tongues fought, the kiss eager and full of need, but not that either of you cared. he managed to pull you on top of him, leaving his hands on your hips, guiding you to grind down onto him. it was desperate and messy, from the need that coursed through both of your bodies, brought on by your incessant teasing and playing.

dean groaned at the feeling of you pressing against the line of his hardened cock, the rough denim rubbing against his angry red tip. fuck, you’d been such a tease. dean was right; you just couldn’t control yourself—your hands travelling up his thigh while he drove, moving in on his dick and palming it through his jeans, all while your eyes not once leaving the road the entire time you played with him, and that wicked smirk plastered on your face. you were evil.

“take this off,” he muttered against your lips, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. you slipped it off, no questions asked, as dean took his flannel and shirt off too, discarding the fabric on the floor of the car. he pressed hot open-mouthed kisses to your breasts through your bra as he undid your jeans and pulled them down. you lifted yourself up, helping him pull away the denim.

“yeah, that’s it,” dean grinned and slid his fingers over your clothed pussy as you settled back down into his lap, feeling the warmth of his skin press against you. “just what i thought. no wonder you were touching me like that. wet and desperate just for me, huh?” dean huffed through a smirk, pressing your soaked underwear against your folds.

“okay, yeah... maybe. so what?” you laughed along with him, grinding your cunt onto his fingers more. “can’t you just help me with it?”

dean's lips curled into a devious grin, one that made the heat burn hotter in your stomach, and you knew you were in for it. “course, baby. though i'm gonna have some fun with you first... s'only fair,” he grinned as you let out a scoff, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “payback’s a bitch, sweetheart," he crooned mockingly, his fingers not letting up on the teasing touches between your thighs.

you groaned at his words and overall demeanour, scrunching your face in frustration whilst he kept toying with you. “no, come on. i’m sorry, just—”

“nope. you’re gonna help me first. consider it… reparations for working me up so much when all you had to do was just ask for my help,” he murmured, his tone smooth but full of smug satisfaction from seeing you so worked up now.

“okay, okay…” you conceded and let your hands undo the button and fly of his jeans. you shimmied them down, along with his boxers too, as much as you could, before pulling out his painfully hard cock. you wiped some pre from his tip, giving his length a full pump. a hiss escaped dean’s lips.

“geez,” you chuckled, “this was all me?”

he huffed with a defeated smile and let his head fall back into the leather seat, soft little grunts leaving his lips as you moved your hand up and down his member.

“baby, you don’t know what you do to me,” he managed to get out through rough breaths. his hips began to buck up into your touch ever so slightly, but his rubbing through your panties didn’t falter; he was teasing you, like you'd done to him, not giving you any proper stimulation that your body was so desperately aching for.

“i need more, dean. please, don’t tease me anymore,” you begged softly, continuing to pump his pretty cock, feeling it throb in your hand.

“mmm,” he pretended to consider your request, “no, i don’t know if you’ve paid your dues yet, my little tease. you knew what you were doing when i was driving.” he rubbed his thick fingers through your damp folds, purposefully pressing the fabric of your underwear against you. the friction felt good, but torturous at the same time; the stimulation just wasn’t enough. you let out a huff. you wanted more. needed more.

“fine.”

you took your hand away from his dick, shuffling back a little on the leather seats. you pushed dean back against the door and settled in front of him. a smirk grew on his face as you bowed down, wrapping your mouth around his cock, though the smirk quickly dropped and morphed into a contorted expression of pleasure as you began swirling your tongue on his sensitive tip, sending hot sparks shooting through his nerves.

“fuuuck… that’s it,” he groaned, trying to get his length deeper into your mouth with small thrusts.

you obliged and took him deeper, trying not to gag on his swollen tip as he thrusted further into your mouth, his head brushing against the back of your throat.

dean’s hands found their way into your hair, scrunching a handful and guiding you to bob on his cock. you let him move you up and down his length, feeling him twitch in your mouth. you wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick, squeezing softly, earning a groan from dean.

you tasted his salty precum, letting your tongue run along his slit. dean let out a deep guttural groan, and his head fell back again, his grip in your hair tightening. “fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. just like that. don’t stop,” he muttered out, his dick still twitching against your tongue. he let obscene words fly from his mouth as his brain began to lose touch with everything but you and the feeling of your warm mouth wrapped around him.

as he tensed against your tongue, you knew it was time to pull him out before he shot his seed down your throat. you pulled him out, earning a groan of protest from dean.

“please, can you just fuck me now?” you looked up at him with your best wide and pleading eyes.

“y-yeah. take those fuckin’ panties off,” he huffed, panting slightly as you sat up, his eyes locked on yours as you manoeuvred yourself to pull your underwear down.

a satisfied grin bloomed on dean’s face the second you flung your panties off. his hand immediately unhooked your bra and pulled it off you, discarding it with the rest of your clothes on the floor, before pushing you down against the seat. he climbed above you, taking in your breasts with a cheeky smile.

“hello, my favourite ladies,” he hummed and kissed your tits before meeting your eyes again, “well after you, of course, my favourite little tease.” he dropped a kiss on your cheek, finding your exposed heat with his fingers again, stroking at your clit.

you chuckled at his dorky comment and looked up at him, feeling his fingers rub at your core. “mmm, no, dean. i need you inside me…. please? i wanna feel you.”

dean nodded, letting his eyes flicker between yours. “yeah, okay. since you asked so nicely.”

he quickly pushed his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down and grabbed his cock, positioning himself at your entrance. he swiped his tip along your cunt, collecting your arousal on the head of his dick, before slowly pushing into you, earning a pleased hum from you as he stretched you out.

“there we go, baby. is this what you wanted?” dean grinned, bottoming out inside you, feeling your walls clench around him, trying to accommodate his size.

“yes… fuck, yes….” you responded breathily, your voice a little winded from the feeling of him finally impaling you.

he took a moment to just look at you, letting his gaze fall over your pretty parted lips, your now dishevelled hair, and your heavy-lidded eyes that met his with silent pleas to move, but also unspoken words full of love and trust. dean finally pulled his hips back before thrusting back into you. he let out a deep groan and continued to watch your flushed face react to the feel of him moving in and out of your cunt.

your jaw dropped as he began to pick up a firm pace. his dick pistoned into your puffy cunt, hitting all the right gooey spots that made you tighten around him. the car rocked with every thrust and filled with loud breathless moans from the both of you.

dean’s hand found your clit again, his thumb rubbing it expertly. he grinned down at you, taking in your face of pure bliss with his own lazy expression.

“mmm, look at you. taking my cock so well, baby. you’re so tight,” he groaned out, thrusting into you with a measured pace, his balls slapping against the fat of your ass.

his green eyes sparkled as he watched your tits bounce around from his quick thrusts; you could see him practically salivating at the sight. his free hand grabbed at your tits, squeezing and palming them with a stupid grin on his face.

“fuck, dean… you feel so good,” you gasped out as you rocked against the leather seats, your body now coated with a film of sweat. he picked up his pace even more, drilling you into the backseat. you couldn’t help the loud moans from flying out of your mouth or the way your hands had found their way to his back, clawing at it, trying to pull him closer to you.

“ohhhh, fuck… squeezing me like crazy, sweetheart,” he said, winded from the feel of his cock being smothered by the warmth of your tight walls. his hand sped up on your clit, desperate to get you off.

sparks flew throughout your body from his touch, and you cried out, “mmm, god… so close, dean! fuck!”

you felt the band snap in your stomach, and you came, gushing around him, leaving a creamy ring around the base of his cock from your sticky fluids. he thrusted into you even harder, watching you ride the wave of your orgasm as he chased his own.

“that’s it… that’s it, baby,” dean cooed softly with a smirk on his face. “that’s what you wanted, huh? to cum on my cock like a good girl? such a pretty girl like this. my pretty girl.”

your tight walls kept fluttering around him as you rode your high, the sensation driving him closer to painting your insides white. his thrusts stayed firm and deliberate, nudging against your spongey walls with expertise, building up that tight feeling in your stomach again without even really trying.

“oh, god... more, dean. please, i—” you sputtered out.

“more, baby?” he grunted with a grin, “you're a horny little thing today, huh?”

“need you to cum in me, dean…” you whined, looking up at him. his smirk grew as he leaned down and pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jawline and throat.

“i’m gonna fucking stuff you, baby, don’t worry,” he muttered against your skin, tasting the saltiness of your sweat on his tongue.

the car rocked back and forth from his harsh strokes. you were sure any passerby would immediately know what was happening inside, but you couldn’t find half the mind to care, not when you were so close to hitting your peak again.

“mmm, god…. sweetheart, you’re so— so beautiful,” dean huffed, still nipping and kissing at your neck.

you whined, unable to find the words to reply to his sweet praise. the car filled with the dirty smell of sex and the sound of him squelching in and out of your cunt.

“m’so close, sweetheart. you almost there?” he groaned, his warm breath tickling your neck.

the feeling of his thick member thrusting into you with quick and calculated movements, paired with his heavy hand on your clit, forced your back to arch up into him, your body begging for him to go deeper—to bury himself completely in your greedy cunt. your desperate hands kept clawing at his muscled back, leaving pink lines of broken skin, urging him to give you more.

dean moaned gutturally, “baby— baby, please. can’t hold on much longer.” his dick twitched inside you, and he kept plunging his swollen tip in as far as he possibly could, feeling your walls clamp around him, sending jolts of pleasure flying throughout his body.

“close. i’m close,” you sputtered out, your heat clenching as he rapidly pumped into you, making your core tighten with a fire that threatened to send you over the edge.

dean whimpered and gave you a handful of powerful thrusts, and his hand rubbed your clit vigorously, desperate to make you finish before he did.

“atta, girl. that’s it. i’m right here, sweetheart. i’m there with you. just let go f’me…. please, baby,” he moaned out, his brain wrecked; half focused on not spilling into you just yet, and the other half focused on pushing you into cumming on his dick again.

his practiced ministrations and soft words of encouragement worked you over quickly, bringing on your harrowing release. loud mewls and moans were ripped straight from your throat as your pussy gushed again, only making the wet filthy noises louder. you wailed dean’s name, unable to control your mouth or body as he fucked you through your orgasm.

dean let out a shuddered moan as you cried out his name and hit your peak, squeezing around him like a vice. his eyes clamped shut, and he gritted his teeth, shooting his load into your cunt. “oh, shit, baby— shit!” he groaned, opening his hazy eyes and looking down at your sweet face.

you felt his warm ropes coat your walls, and you hummed, returning his gaze. his dilated eyes flickered between yours as his movements came to a still inside you, his cock beginning to soften. “fuck… fuck, baby. you’re so—”

you smiled as dean’s post-sex spiel began, the action pushing up your flushed cheeks, making the corners of your eyes crinkle.

“jesus, so good…. so good,” he muttered through pants. “so beautiful. i’m so lucky— jesus, i’m so lucky.”

a quiet but mirthful laugh escaped from your lungs. “i love when you get like this,” you murmured earnestly, your features pulled into an amused expression as dean continued to babble out soft praises and compliments.

“sorry, i just—” he trailed off with a sheepish grin, collapsing on top of you. he buried his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses to your sweaty skin.

“no, s’alright. i love it, really.”

“yeah? good… cause i can’t help but act a damn fool around you, babe. you make me crazy, i swear.”

a grin grew on dean’s face as he heard your scoff of amusement at his words. his curved lips against your skin sent butterflies down to your stomach, fluttering around from his praise.

“m’serious. i’m crazy for you— crazy for that pussy. she’s mine… all mine,” he murmured into your skin.

another amused laugh escaped you. “yeah, she is. all yours, baby,” you playfully conceded.

“mmm,” he hummed in agreement, then lifted his head to look down at you. your eyes met, and you could see glints of desire still dancing around in them. “no more teasing me now, yeah? we’re even?”

it was your turn to grin; the corners of your lips curled, and you nodded. “yeah, no more teasing, baby… for now.”

fig yaps: need my shit rocked in the back of his car tbh anyway you’re welcome for that gif btw !!!!!!!! i actually have it tattooed on my eyelids so i can watch it every time i close my eyes teehehe anyways this lived in my drafts for months and i still don't love it but yolo dropping this and probably dipping for a few days bc my brain is playing evil tbh

feedback and reblogs are welcome and appreciated ofc !! <3

⟡ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @jensenacklesballsack @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @daylighted @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @littlesoulshine @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @freeluigihesbae @bejeweledinterludes @blossomingorchids @lanasgirlfr @seven7lee @nymphet-quenn @rafessweetgirl @maeji-may @eternalssunshinee @blossomingorchids @benscumgluzzer @soldiersgirl @arcannaa @gibson-g1rl @vmiina @h8aaz + the rest in the comments sorry!

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[thewinchesters-pants]

JUST NEED YOU

minors do not interact.

꒰ beware! includes ╱ smut, fem!reader, gentle eepy sex, whimpering, unprotected sex (wrap ur shit), soft praising, mentions of exhaustion.

꒰ ‎@ kari is typing! this was collecting dust in my google docs, and i just had to share <3 i never posted it before because i was focused on other things! so yeah :)

you're half-asleep when the door creaks open. the soft shuffle of boots on hardwood reaches your ears, followed by the heavy thud of a duffel bag dropped just inside the doorway. the clock on your nightstand reads 2:38 a.m. and still, you manage to rouse at the sound of him. it's instinct by now — your body always knows when dean's home.

you don't get up. you don't need to. the bed dips moments later under his weight, and the familiar scent of leather, gunpowder, and a hint of old motel soap clings to him like a second skin. he's quiet, careful not to wake you all the way, but you can feel the tension rolling off him in thick, tired waves. the kind of weight that only comes from a long hunt — the kind that leaves bruises on his skin and deeper ones somewhere you can't always reach.

his rough palms find your bare thigh under the sheets, and he exhales shakily, forehead pressing against your shoulder. you hum, still hazy with sleep, but your hand moves to rest gently over his where it clutches your hip.

"baby…" he breathes, voice hoarse and frayed, like he hasn't spoken in hours. maybe he hasn't. "can i—fuck, i just… i need to feel you."

you blink sleepily, heart aching at the desperation in his voice. there's no heat behind the words, not the usual flirtation or cocky edge — just exhaustion. longing. like maybe the only thing keeping him from unraveling completely is the thought of being inside you, even if only for a moment.

"yeah," you whisper, barely audible. you reach back to brush your fingers through his hair, damp and messy from the rain or shower, you can't tell. "of course, my love."

he doesn't waste time. he slips out of his jeans, the rest of his clothes discarded in a lazy heap on the floor. his hands aren't steady — they tremble slightly as he pushes the covers down and climbs over you, slotting himself between your legs like he's done a hundred times before, only this time he's quiet. reverent. like he's scared you'll vanish if he blinks too long.

you're already wet for him — the kind of natural readiness that comes from loving him, wanting him, knowing him this deeply. he groans softly when he slides in, inch by aching inch, and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

"shit," he whispers, body shuddering as he bottoms out. "babydoll, sweetheart… you feel so good. always so good."

you wrap your arms around his shoulder blades, legs parting wider to cradle him closer, letting him have you however he needs. there's no rush, no frantic rhythm. just the slow, aching press of his hips and the broken little sounds he makes into your skin.

"missed this," he murmurs, barely coherent. "missed you. fuck, i don't deserve you."

you hush him gently, fingers carding through his hair as he moves inside you with slow, needy thrusts. his body is heavy over yours, warm and solid, the kind of weight you never mind bearing. you can feel him falling apart in your arms — each whimper, each whispered praise like a crack in his armor.

"you're perfect," he breathes, mouth brushing against your jaw. "always take me so good, like you were made for me."

"i was," you whisper back, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. "you know i was."

he lets out a choked sound at that, hips stuttering as he presses deeper, slower. his hands are holding you like he's scared you'll slip through his fingers — one at your waist, the other cradling your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

"i love you," he says it like a confession, like he means it more now than ever. "i love you so much it fuckin' hurts."

you can feel him getting close, his body tensing, breath faltering. your own body responds in kind, warmth blooming low in your belly as he presses his forehead to yours.

"come for me, baby," you murmur, lips brushing his. "just let go. i've got you."

he falls apart with a soft, broken whimper, burying himself deep as he spills inside you. his whole body trembles with it, and he clings to you like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this world.

and maybe, in that moment, you are.

he doesn't pull out not right away. just stays there, breathing you in, holding you like he's afraid to let go.

you press a kiss to his temple, whispering soft things into his skin until his breathing slows, until the weight of the world finally slips off his shoulders and he lets himself rest.

you fall asleep like that, tangled together, his body still connected with yours, the chaos in his mind finally going quiet.

[thewinchesters-pants]

THINK I NEED SOMEONE OLDER

older!dean x fem!reader cw age gap, nsfw below cut (mdni), size kink (+ implied choking kink?), bunker era (think s9-10, so dean is 34-36 ish and reader is early to mid 20s), a little angsty in one or two places

notes my final assignment of first year is due in 12 hours. i wrote this instead. also i don’t usually write smut so if it’s shit dhmu

older!dean was hesitant to do anything with you at first. there’s thirteen years between you, and he’d always said it was too much, that he was too old for you. eventually, after months of teasing and flirting and god knows how many repetitions of “i know what i want, dean,” he’d grabbed your face and kissed you hard.

older!dean treats you like glass that he could break at any second. he’s gentle — gentler than he ever was with any other girl. he kisses your forehead, always has a gentle hand on you, and generally takes care of you. he cooks for you, wraps blankets around you when you fall asleep researching, and acts like the definition of a gentleman (to sam’s utter delight — the new material he’s gained to tease his brother with is endless).

older!dean shares his music with you. you call him old for it, and he makes a suggestive comment about you benefitting from his experience. he makes you a tape of songs he loves and catches you playing it in your room on more than one occasion. the two of you bond massively over music, with him showing you the rock he grew up with and you showing him newer stuff, like paramore. he’ll never admit that he thinks hayley williams is awesome, but you know.

older!dean hates taking you out on hunts. you met through hunting, and you’re a damn good hunter yourself (his words), but that will never stop him worrying. he’s protective, almost overwhelmingly so, on hunts, and you’ve had more than one biting argument about how he needs to let up. he promises he will some day, but you still see his eyes on you constantly. he needs to make sure you’re there, to make sure you’re safe.

older!dean loves to tease you with pet names to see how flustered he can make you. there are some he uses that are nice, and make you feel nice and warm inside, like angel and sweetheart. (darlin’ with his texan twang, always gets you blushing.) he tries to call you baby, but you veto it, stating the age difference as a reason. he tries to tease you, occasionally calling you kid and kiddo until you stop calling him honey and start only referring to him as old man.

older!dean absolutely loses it when you get hurt. you go on a hunt with sam, despite your boyfriend’s protests at getting left behind, and when sam calls as a heads up that you’re injured, he’s an anxious mess until you reach the bunker. you walk through the door bruised and a little bloodied, and he’s all over you. he doesn’t leave you alone, even after you’ve been cleaned up and ordered to rest by sam. he’s constantly touching you, either holding your hand or rubbing comforting circles on your hip. even when you heal he’s hesitant to let you out of his sight again, stating in the middle of a dark night while he holds you close that he can’t lose you.

things with older!dean start out soft and pretty vanilla, as he doesn’t want to push you or hurt you. he’s so caring and gentle with you, making sure you enjoy yourself and holding you close and making sure you finish first.

when older!dean finds out you’re just as freaky as he is, it’s over for you. he’s relentless, testing new things with you almost every night. youre sure you’ve tried every position by now, but dean’s favourite is a tossup between missionary, where he can watch your face as he all but pounds into you, and cowgirl, where he can watch as you tire yourself out on top of him (being able to see your tits bounce is also a bonus).

older!dean loves it when you suck him off but let’s be honest: he’s a huge munch. he’s eaten you out in more places than you can count, including (probably) every surface in the bunker, the backseat and driver’s seat of the impala, countless motel rooms and even a few diner restrooms.

older!dean has trouble letting you take control sometimes. he feels a little strange, given the age gap between you, but when you do get chance? he loves it. being completely under your control, letting you do whatever you want? it’s like a dream come true for him. but, despite how many times you start on top, it always ends with him snapping his hips up into you or flipping you over and finishing what you started.

older!dean loves it when he gets to see just how much bigger he is than you. when he can hold your waist and his hand seems to just dwarf you, or when he has you in his lap and his hands cover your hips completely. he especially loves watching as he takes you, and when his large hand wraps around your throat with just enough pressure for you to feel it.

regardless of how vanilla or how insane the sex is, older!dean never misses a second of aftercare. he’s always right there, with either a warm bath or a damp cloth depending on how tired you are. he’ll massage your thighs after they’re spent from riding him or comb out the tangles he made in your hair, whispering sweet nothings to you and holding you like you’re fragile because, to him, you are. even when he’s let you take the reins, he holds you close as you drift off to sleep, pressing gentle kisses on your face and tracing his hand down your back.

[thewinchesters-pants]

RAW, next question 😮‍💨

the bunker makes Dean comfy and he deserves a lil extra weight in addition to still being strong af. you’ll have to pry my body head-canon for him out of my cold dead hands

[thewinchesters-pants]

🧎🧎🧎 Jensen Ackles | Purgatory Con, Düsseldorf, Germany, May 25, 2024

[thewinchesters-pants]

Jensen Ackles | Countdown BTS [x]

[thewinchesters-pants]

[thewinchesters-pants]

This is my new favorite thing 😂😮‍💨

Heat Of The Moment

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: A little backstory to Dean’s statement 😉

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings/tags: Smut (18+Only), established relationship, swearing, mentions of blood, (attempted) shower sex, fluff, poor Sammy (again lol).

AN: Just a fun little idea that came to me seeing this gif. I thought it’d be fun to explore the story behind it. 😂 I hope you guys like this one ❤️

Main Masterlist

You stood under the sputtering spray of the motel shower, the water lukewarm at best. It was exactly what you’d expected from a place that hadn’t been updated since Psycho—seriously, all it was missing was Norman Bates in drag, wielding a kitchen knife, and bam! Instant horror movie stardom.

Instead, you had something far more dangerous lurking behind the flimsy curtain.

Dean.

The bastard didn’t even ask. He just peeled the plastic barrier back and stepped inside, cocky as ever, because he knew damn well you’d never tell him no.

Damn him for that.

His large, calloused hands found your hips instantly, the heat of his palms seeping into your slick skin before sliding around your waist. He pulled you flush against him, his arms locking around you in a way that left no room for escape—not that you wanted one.

You arched a brow when you felt something stiff and very familiar pressing into your lower back.

“Seriously?” you huffed, equal parts amused and incredulous. After last night, you were convinced he’d be out of commission for at least a week. “I thought guys needed a recovery period.”

Dean hummed against your neck, his smirk evident even before he spoke. “What can I say, sweetheart? You bring out the animal in me.”

You barely had time to cringe at his line before he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the curve of your shoulder. Then another. And another.

Despite yourself, you melted, tilting your head to give him better access. He was insufferable, overprotective to a fault, and cocky as hell. But the second he touched you like this?

You were done for. Every. Damn. Time.

“We broke a lot of records last night,” he murmured into your skin, his lips brushing over your pulse.

“And?” You challenged, leaning your head back against his shoulder to eye him in your periphery.

Dean grinned, his hold tightening. “How about a part two?”

His voice was a low, husky whisper against your ear, the deep timbre sending a shiver down your spine—one he felt. That smug, insufferable smirk of his only widened as his hands began to explore.

You were the prize fish in his pond, and he was just waiting for you to take the bait.

And like a mindless, naive little guppy, you bit.

“Really?” Your voice came out breathier than you intended, but could you blame yourself? His hands were already spanning your waist, trailing lower, teasing at the place that was aching for him.

Apparently, your pussy was onboard before your brain had even caught up.

Dean chuckled, his lips grazing your jaw. “Mmhmm.”

You gasped when one of his large hands cupped your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple in a way that sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through you.

“I’d like to break a few more,” he murmured against your throat.

And that was it.

Your last thread of self-control snapped.

You spun in his arms, crashing your lips against his without a second thought, your desperation all but forgotten in the heat of the moment.

You’d learned something pretty damn fast about yourself being with Dean Winchester, and that was his uncanny ability to reset you to your factory settings. One touch, one well-placed kiss, and suddenly, you were a feral little thing, all instinct and no shame. A literal bitch in heat.

And if you were bad, he was worse.

His hands were everywhere—greedy, demanding, like he was staking a claim he’d already won. He knew every spot that made you whimper, every trick that left you melting in his grasp, and the bastard used all of them. Ruthlessly. Shamelessly. And with that cocky-ass smirk that was half smug satisfaction, half pure, lust-drunk hunger.

Your nails bit into his shoulders, leaving half-moon indentations in his skin as his hand slipped between your thighs, thick fingers parting you with ease. His touch was confident, practiced—like a man who knew exactly how to play you, and play you well.

A sharp gasp left your lips the moment he found your clit, pressing down with slow, deliberate circles that sent sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Your body jerked, reacting on instinct, your breath coming out in shaky stutters as he picked up his pace.

“F-fuck…” You barely managed, voice caught between a whimper and a plea.

Dean was watching you, his sharp green eyes locked onto every twitch, every gasp, every shiver he pulled from you. He lived for this—the way you tensed against him, the way your lips parted, eyes squeezed shut, nails digging in deeper as if grounding yourself against the inevitable. And the sting of your grip? It only spurred him on.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, voice thick with appreciation. “Let go.”

His movements became ruthless, precise, each flick and stroke of his fingers drawing you closer to the edge until it finally broke—your orgasm crashed through you like a rogue wave, dragging you under, pulling a breathless cry from your lips as your body convulsed in his hold.

Dean’s arm tightened around you, keeping you upright as your legs trembled beneath you, your erratic breaths warming his skin.

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his touch still gentle as he worked you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last jolt of pleasure—until your hand found his wrist, wrapping around it with a silent plea for mercy.

Dean stilled immediately, his grip relaxing, but his gaze never wavered as he tilted your chin up to meet his. His pupils were blown wide, the green of his irises barely a thin ring as he drank you in—flushed, breathless, completely unraveled beneath his touch.

And then he kissed you—deep and slow, savouring you, as if this moment was just as intoxicating as the night before.

When he finally pulled back, a smirk ghosted his lips, his voice low and teasing as he murmured against your mouth, “That’s one.”

A lazy, satisfied chuckle bubbled up in your throat, knowing exactly what he meant. He’d started keeping track last night, somewhere between the second and third round, taking pride in every single time he pulled you over the edge.

Your fingers trailed down his chest, over the soft ridges of muscle that weren’t quite a six-pack—more like a solid foundation with a little softness to keep things interesting. And you liked that about him. You loved that about him. Dean was strong, but he also liked a hearty burger and a good dessert. And honestly? Chiseled abs were overrated anyway.

You bit your lip as your hand trailed lower, fingertips teasing through the coarse hair of his happy trail, watching his stomach twitch beneath your touch. A smirk curled your lips as you wrapped your fingers around his impressive length, feeling the heavy weight of him in your grasp.

A sharp breath ghosted against your cheek as you pumped him slowly, deliberately.

"And which hole do you want your first in?" you whispered against his ear, your voice dripping with mischief.

The guttural groan that tore from his throat was downright sinful, his hands flying to your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips jerking when you gave his leaking tip a teasing squeeze. "Wanna fill up your sweet pussy first."

Heat pulsed low in your belly, your walls clenching around nothing at the hunger in his voice.

"Here or the bed?" you murmured, cupping his jaw, your thumb brushing over his plush bottom lip.

"Here," he rasped, eyes blown wide with need. "I need to fuck you. Now."

His mouth crashed against yours, the kiss filthy and desperate, all tongue and teeth as he backed you up against the cool tile.

Pulling back briefly, his sharp eyes darted around, quickly assessing his surroundings before locking onto the metal bar meant for handicapped residents.

Dean grinned. “Perfect.”

“Perfect?” You raised a brow, but he hoisted you up into his arms. 

“Yeah, c’mon, rest your foot on here, baby,” he breathed, guiding your foot onto the bar to support you more comfortably against the wall.

Neither of you even considered checking if the bar was sturdy. You were too horny to think beyond must fuck now. Instead, you did as instructed, letting him hook your foot up onto the bar, effectively spreading yourself open for him. 

Dean took a second to admire the view, sucking in a breath through his teeth like a man about to make a very bad—yet totally worth it—decision.

“You good?” he asked, gripping your other thigh, already lining himself up.

“Just fuck me, Winchester,” you whined.

“I love it when you get all bossy,” he chuckled, but as he moved forward, his wet foot slipped on the slick enamel of the tub.

“Shit—”

He caught himself at the last second, slamming a palm against the wall to keep from taking you both down. Your laughter was instant, bubbling past your lips as he groaned.

“You okay there, clutz?” you teased, giggling against his jaw.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Shut up. You distracted me with your damn siren pussy.”

He adjusted his stance once again, gripping your thigh a little tighter this time as he lined himself up, and finally sank into you in one smooth thrust.

You gasped, the pleasure instantly overriding your laughter, your body stretching to accommodate him. The slight tenderness from last night only made the fullness more intense. Your back pressed harshly against the cool tile, and Dean took a second to let you adjust before rolling his hips slow and deep.

The steady rhythm didn’t last long. You were too far gone, too desperate. “More,” you whimpered. “Faster.”

And that was all he needed. Dean picked up the pace, thrusting into you hard, the slap of skin against wet skin filling the small bathroom alongside your breathless cries and his low groans.

And then—

A loud, metallic CRACK echoed through the room.

Before you could react, the grab bar snapped clean off the wall, the sudden shift causing Dean to slip against the slick enamel, sending you both tumbling down in a chaotic mess of limbs, curses, and water.

Dean, to his credit, tried to break your fall—because he was a gentleman after all—but instead, his head smacked against the towel rack with a loud thunk, while you crashed down hard on your wrist.

The impact sent the shower head spinning loose, turning it into a rogue fire hose that blasted water in every direction, soaking the already disastrous scene.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Then—

“Fuuuuck,” Dean groaned, clutching his forehead. When he pulled his fingers away, they were smeared with crimson. “Oh, come on.”

You, on the other hand, were cradling your wrist, biting back a whimper. But Dean caught it anyway, and instantly, his own pain was forgotten.

His eyes locked on your arm, where swelling was already creeping up, your wrist bent at an angle that made his stomach churn. Fuck.

“I think… I think I broke something,” you choked out, tears stinging your eyes from the pain.

Dean’s concern went full throttle. “Shit, baby, lemme see,” he fussed, reaching for your injured wrist despite the blood trickling down his own face. “Does it hurt bad? Can you move it? How’s your fingers—”

You barely heard him. Because the moment you really looked at him, you gasped. “Dean, your head—”

You grabbed his chin with your good hand, tilting his face toward the light, your stomach twisting at the gash splitting his brow open, still bleeding freely.

Both of you stared at each other, completely ignoring your own injuries while freaking out over the other’s.

“Okay. Okay. We gotta get you to a hospital.” Dean urged, your wrist was already turning a dark purple-ish colour.

You blinked at him. “Dean, neither of us can drive in these conditions.” you pointed out and he opened his mouth—paused—then nodded.

“Yeah. No. You're right.” You both looked at each other, and then at the same time, you uttered— "Sam.”

Dean sat in the waiting area beside Sam, freshly stitched up and looking far too pleased with himself for someone who had just concussed himself mid-sexcapade, whilst you were across the hall, getting X-rays.

Sam sat with his arms crossed, shaking his head like a parent debating whether his kid was even worth bailing out this time. “I just—I don’t even know what to say to you.”

Dean huffed. “Aw, come on, Sammy—”

“What the hell were you guys thinking, man?” Sam scolded, exasperated. He got it—he did—but still. Even he knew shower sex was a risky, mostly unrealistic exaggeration shown in porn or the movies. Reality was a hell of a lot different.

Dean waggled his eyebrows, only to wince when the motion tugged at his stitches. “Jealous?”

Sam gave him the most exhausted bitch face of all time. “Of the head wound or the property damage?”

Dean grinned. “Wouldn’t be the first time I broke something in the—”

“Nope. Nope. Not finishing that sentence.” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I just don’t understand how two people can have this level of bad decision-making.”

Before Dean could fire back, you reappeared from the exam room, cradling your freshly casted arm.

Dean sat up straighter. “What’s the verdict, sweetheart?”

You sighed dramatically. “Fractured wrist. Congratulations, Winchester. You’re now officially the reason I can’t do anything for the next six weeks.”

Dean’s smirk only grew. “I dunno. I can think of a few things you can still do one-handed.”

“Guys!” Sam cut in, already regretting his life choices. “Can we please just get out of here?” He stood, rubbing his face, still heavy with sleep from being woken up by his half-naked brother knocking on his door at one in the morning.

You nodded in silent agreement and followed him out as he headed towards the exit, Dean strolling beside you, still with that cocky grin.

As the two of you strode toward the impala, Dean’s arm casually slung over your shoulders in his usual display of affection, you eyed your cast with a small sigh.

“I think it’s safe to say shower sex is officially off the table,” you muttered, and Dean huffed a small laugh and squeezed your shoulder gently but nodded. 

“Yeah, shower sex is complicated…Bathtub, though?” He looked at you with a failed attempt to waggle his brows and you bit back a smile but still tilted your head with interest.

However, before you could answer—

“No. Nope!” Sam interrupted with a shake of his head.

“Oh c’mon Sammy. Stop being such a prude.” Dean rolled his eyes, whilst Sam levelled him with his infamous glare.

You all silently climbed into your respective seats. Sam behind the wheel (since Dean’s vision was still a little blurred), Dean riding shotgun and you in the back.

Sam had just slid the key into the ignition when Dean turned in his seat to face you.

“How about a pool?”

“I hate you,” Sam groaned.

AN: I hope you guys liked this one, it was fun to write 😜, poor Sam is always at the brunt end of his brother's endeavours 😂. As always feedback is much appreciated ❤️

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 😊

Dean Winchester/series Tag List:

@bettystonewell , @nancymcl , @happyfxckinghorrors , @ambiguous-avery @jollyhunter

@tbgfvfdcb @crooked-haven @chevroletdean @paganvamp @stoneyggirl2

@deans-baby-momma @spnaquakindgdom @ladykitana90 @lyarr24 , @impala67rollingthroughtown

@jackles010378 @riteofpassage77 @spnaquakindgdom @cevansbaby-dove @shadysoulangel

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@rach5ive @ladysparkles78 @globetrotter28 @kayleighwinchester @amberlthomas

[thewinchesters-pants]

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy THE BOYS (2022) | 3.05 – “The Last Time To Look On This World Of Lies”

[thewinchesters-pants]

I know it’s The Boys but I felt like it belonged here too 🙂‍↕️

Jensen Ackles as Soldier Boy THE BOYS (2022) | 3.05 – “The Last Time To Look On This World Of Lies”

[thewinchesters-pants]

Jeffrey Dean Morgan as Max in The Resident (2011)

[thewinchesters-pants]

birthday boy ・ COWBOY!JENSEN ACKLES. ៸៸៸ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ! ♡ library

eighteen plus. minors do NOT interact.

୨୧ synopsis. jensen's birthday turned out perfect, but he wants more—stealing you away from the bonfire to claim you in the barn.

୨୧ warning(s). smut | oral (m!receiving) | unprotected sex (are we even surprised LMAO) | semi-public sex | barn sex | praise | mild dominance | dirty talk | slight roughness | orgasm control | birthday sex.

୨୧ word count. 1.1k

୨୧ kari notes. it felt necessary to do cowboy!jensen for the prettiest birthday boy ever !!!!!!! i miss him dearly and i know i've left him + the christmas series to collect dust (my bad 😔) i promise it was not intentional <3 i hope to get back to it someday and FINALLY wrap the series up. anyway! enjoy this somewhat of a revival of cowboy!jensen and happy birthday to jensen <3 my sugarplum pookie wookie princess butt 🤍 i love him so very much. 🥹

the fire crackles, casting a golden glow over the field, laughter ringing out as jensen's friends pass around beers and swap stories. the air smells like burning cedar and summer grass, the heat of the flames licking at the night breeze.

you've spent the entire day making sure his birthday is perfect.

his favorite breakfast in bed, a homemade cake, little surprises scattered throughout the day—things only you would know he'd love. but this? the bonfire, the laughter, the way his friends are all gathered around, celebrating him? this was the part he didn't expect.

and from the way he keeps looking at you—warm, lingering glances, like he can't decide if he wants to say thank you or take you apart—you know he appreciates every second of it.

he looks damn good tonight, too.

the sleeves of his tan flannel are rolled up to his elbows, the fabric unbuttoned revealing the white wife beater clinging to his chest. his old levi jeans sit low on his hips, worn in just right, and his brown cowboy boots are planted firm in the dirt, like he's the only thing keeping the earth steady.

but it's his eyes that get you the most. green, sharp, locked onto you every time you move. like he's waiting. like he's hungry.

so when he finally makes his move, it's not subtle.

a warm palm at the small of your back. a quiet, "come with me, sweetheart."

no one notices when he leads you away, his fingers curling around yours, guiding you past the parked trucks, past the wooden fences, into the barn where the scent of hay and leather lingers thick in the air. "been waitin' all damn night to get you alone," he mutters, voice low, gravelly, sending a shiver straight down your spine. "you spoil me too much, darlin'."

"only 'cause you deserve it," you tease, fingers tracing slow over his chest, feeling the heat of him through the fabric.

his lips twitch, eyes darkening. "yeah? think i deserve somethin' else too."

the way he says it—the weight behind those words—makes your stomach tighten, anticipation thrumming through your veins.

"yeah?" you murmur, letting your hands drift lower, teasing at his belt buckle. "what's that, cowboy?"

his breath hitches, just slightly. his hands flex at your waist.

"get on your knees, baby."

heat floods through you, pooling low in your belly, and you don't hesitate—not when he's looking at you like that.

the dirt is cool beneath your bare knees as you sink down, your hands sliding up his thighs, slow, deliberate.

you undo his belt, pop the button, drag the zipper down with aching precision, just to watch his breath stutter.

"teasin' me now?” he rasps, fingers threading into your hair, tilting your chin up.

"maybe."

but you don't tease for long.

you pull him free from his jeans, his cock already hard, thick and heavy in your palm.

"fuck, look at you, sweetheart," he mutters, thumb brushing over your cheek, voice rough. "prettiest damn thing i've ever seen."

you smirk, pressing a slow kiss to the tip, then licking a teasing stripe along the underside, feeling him twitch in your grasp.

"jesus," he mutters, his head falling back for just a second before his gaze snaps back down to you, dark and demanding. "c'mon, sweetheart. know you can take it."

so you do.

you take him into your mouth, slow at first, letting him feel every inch as your lips stretch around him, your tongue swirling just right.

his groan is deep, raw, his hips jerking slightly as his grip tightens in your hair.

"yeah, that's it, baby," he grits out, watching you, his chest rising and falling faster now. "too damn good f'me."

you hollow your cheeks, take him deeper, until he hits the back of your throat, your hands gripping his thighs for balance.

"love this mouth," he mutters, his voice thick with need. "gonna make me come if you keep that up."

you hum around him, the vibration making him curse under his breath, his hips stuttering forward.

but before he can get too close, he yanks you off him, his breathing ragged, his cock slick with your spit.

"as much as i'd love to finish like that," he says, voice uneven, "need to be inside you, darlin'."

before you can even respond, he hauls you up, spinning you around, pressing you up against one of the thick wooden beams.

his hands are everywhere—pushing up your dress, ripping your panties off, gripping your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"hold onto me," he orders, and you do, arms looping around his shoulders as he lines himself up, teasing you with the head of his cock, watching it drag through your slick folds.

"jensen—" you start, but the words die in your throat as he thrusts into you, stretching you open in one smooth, deep stroke.

"goddamn, baby," he groans, his forehead pressing against your shoulder for a moment, his breath hot against your skin.

"you feel so good."

you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders blades, your body already trembling from how deep he is, how perfectly he fills you.

"been watchin' ya' all night," he mutters, his voice rough as he picks up the pace, his grip on you tightening. "watching you in that little dress, smilin' at me like you knew exactly what you were doin'."

he drives into you harder, deeper, the friction sending sparks up your spine. the rough drag of his jeans against your thighs, the way his body presses firm against yours—it's too much, too good, setting your nerves on fire.

"wanted you to want me," you manage to whisper, and his responding growl sends a shiver straight through you.

"always want you," he rasps, his hands gripping tighter, his pace turning relentless, desperate, like he's making sure you feel it, like he's carving himself into you.

"fuck, baby, mm—"

his fingers slip between you, rubbing tight circles over your clit, the pleasure winding sharp and fast in your belly.

"do it f'me, sweetheart," he urges, his breath ragged, "wanna feel you—wanna feel you come all over me."

you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clenching around him, making him curse, his rhythm stuttering.

"mmm, good girl," he groans, burying himself deep one last time before he follows, spilling inside you with a shaky moan, his body tensing before finally relaxing, both of you breathless, clinging to each other.

for a long moment, there's nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the distant sounds of the bonfire happening outside.

jensen chuckles, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips.

"best damn birthday ever, sweetheart."

៸៸៸ 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @dollyfiles @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @chris444evr @deanswidow @voidsuites @jasvtsc @cowboysandcigarettes @beausling @stereotypicalbarbie @bejeweledinterludes @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @sunsbaby @jjmbbg @freeluigihesbae @suckitands33 @ultravioletrayz @unfortunate-brat @a-lil-pr1ncess @notsocoqquete1 @deerlysacred @benscumgluzzer @chevroletdean @deanangel @bluestrd @rubyvhs @ohsc @deansw1fe

[thewinchesters-pants]

I absolutely adore this! 🥳💜

introducing, ❝ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 ! ❞ once a cassette tape, now a girl—dean’s first ever mixtape brought to life.

❝ standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams, telling myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems. ❞ 𝜗𝜚 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐀 by 𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐙𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍.

★ the way she came to life was nothing short of magical chaos—she was just 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍'𝐒 favorite cassette tape, tucked away safely in his leather jacket pocket. she had been broken for years, tangled and scratched beyond repair, but 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 just couldn't toss her out. it was his first cassette ever, after all. the tape had ❝ 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍 ❞ by 𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐙𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍 etched into its magnetic heart, a song that 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 would play on repeat until the tape had worn thin.

★ one innocent night at a bar after a standard monster hunt, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 unknowingly charmed a pretty blonde witch. she thought she'd hit him where it hurt with a hex, but instead, her magic backfired spectacularly, breathing life into 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍'𝐒 cherished cassette tape. suddenly, the next morning, a girl stood where plastic and magnetic strips once were.

★ she awoke curled up in 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍'𝐒 jacket, confused, wide-eyed, and humming softly under her breath. the first word she ever spoke was a soft, melodic hello, her voice sweet and musical like the song she'd carried inside her for so many years. 𝐒𝐀𝐌 was quick to pick up on the bizarre situation, but 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 took a little longer—he just stood there, jaw hanging open, eyes wide as saucers, staring at the beautiful girl who wore a tattoo on her left hip in his own messy handwriting: ᴅᴇᴀɴ's ᴛᴏᴘ ¹³ ᴢᴇᴘᴘ ᴛʀᴀxx.

★ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 has hair that seems to change with every mood swing. when she's happy, it's soft and gently wavy, adorned with glittery tinsel strands that sparkle when she moves. when she's sad or brooding, her hair rebels into wild, unruly curls—spirals bouncing as she hums slow, melancholy songs from her past life as a tape. and on days she feels playful, she twists her hair into adorable 90s-style messy space buns, with loose curls poking out rebelliously.

★ her style is a love letter to 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍'𝐒 music taste. she wears mini denim skirts lovingly patched with tiny embroidered titles of each song that lived inside her. 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 loves skin-tight latex dresses, paired effortlessly with kitten heels that click rhythmically as she walks, drawing attention everywhere she goes. a staple in her wardrobe is her favorite look—a black vest top layered perfectly over a little white baby-tee tank. and she never forgets her oversized denim jacket she found hidden in baby's trunk, now customized with rockstar patches lovingly sewn into the back. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 pretends to roll his eyes, but secretly loves it.

★ her jewelry is a story of its own. a black rosary drapes softly around her neck, contrasting beautifully against her skin. her left ear is a constellation of piercings: a forward helix, a bold industrial bar, double helix hoops, and two flat piercings decorated with tiny silver crosses. she wears stacks of rings, each finger adorned with silver bands of skulls, roses, and crosses. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 always complains about one particular ring—a flashy silver piece engraved with her celebrity rockstar crush's initials. she teases him mercilessly about this crush, whispering dramatic confessions into 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍'𝐒 ear, making 𝐒𝐀𝐌 burst into laughter every single time.

★ there's something undeniably comforting about cassette girl. whenever 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 or sam feel low, she's their safe haven. she gently pulls them close, letting their heads rest on her chest as she hums softly, magically recalling songs from their childhood. she'll hum the soothing melodies 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 once played to calm 𝐒𝐀𝐌 after nightmares, or the nostalgic tunes john used to play in the impala. even 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍, stubborn as he is, can't resist melting into her warmth, letting memories and music lull him into comfort.

★ she's a collector at heart. her room is filled with treasures—tiny pins from every classic rock album 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 ever loved, carefully pinned onto a denim banner above her bed. she has a shelf filled with calico critters dressed as mini led zeppelin band members and adorable sonny angels wearing tiny rock tees. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 pretends to scoff at her growing collection, but he secretly finds it endearing, often surprising her with new trinkets after hunts.

★ her shoes tell their own tale—she's either stomping around in chunky platform boots, slipping into battered vans, or tying up her scuffed-up converse. she loves pairing her latex dresses with delicate kitten heels, a juxtaposition 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 finds irresistible. she moves with confidence and rhythm, every step echoing the music inside her.

★ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 is obsessed with record stores. any time they roll up into a new town for a hunt, 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 knows exactly where she'll drag him first. she's a magnet to vinyl records, gently flipping through album covers, quietly singing along to whatever the store is playing. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 likes to pretend he's annoyed, but secretly he watches her fondly, loving the way her eyes light up when she finds a new favorite.

★ she's fiercely territorial about being 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍'𝐒 favorite tape. she gets adorably jealous if he even glances at another cassette. she insists, dramatically, that she's the only one he needs—even though she hasn't functioned as a real tape in years. she'll pout and cross her arms, humming defiantly under her breath, which always makes 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 laugh and shake his head, eventually giving in.

★ her emotions manifest uniquely—when she's particularly upset or sad, her words glitch and distort like an old scratched cassette tape. she stammers, repeating fragments of words, choking up as tears spill down her cheeks. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 struggles sometimes to understand her meaning, but 𝐒𝐀𝐌 always catches on quickly, calmly translating her feelings to his confused brother. when she cries, her tears sometimes fall in the shape of tiny musical notes or cascade dramatically like cartoon waterfalls, forming little puddles at her feet. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 can never resist apologizing, pulling her into a comforting embrace until her sobbing subsides.

★ her guitar isn't just an instrument—it's her weapon, carefully disguised as an ordinary guitar until she swings it into action. 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 laughed the first time he saw her carrying it around, teasing her relentlessly. she pouted dramatically, ignoring him completely and humming 𝐃𝐄𝐅 𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐃'𝐒 ❝ 𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀 ❞ to calm herself down. now, he knows better than to underestimate her weapon of choice.

★ 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄 is fiercely protective, loyal, and playful all at once. she's the rhythm and melody 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐍 never knew he needed, the comfort 𝐒𝐀𝐌 secretly craved, and the vibrant heart that brings music back into their lives. she lives every day like a rockstar anthem, humming softly beneath her breath, filling the winchester brothers' lives with laughter, warmth, and endless music.

✷ ── BOX FULL OF 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 ESCAPADES !

000. am i losing my damn mind?

── first off, thanking my pookie twin @daylighted for initiating the object!reader universe with baby!reader <3 this looked like SO much fun and i just had to jump on the bandwagon <3 so meet my sweet baby girl, maggie !!! i'm excited to join in on the fun <3

◟ ☆ ݁ ⋆ 🎸 ˚⊹ ˖ ﾟ✶ ݁. 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 tags. @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @honeyryewhiskey @figthoughts @dollyfiles @ultravi0lence14 @soldiersgirl @sunsbaby @abox-of-rocks @whisperingdaze @eepwtf @chris444evr @deanswidow @voidsuites @jasvtsc @cowboysandcigarettes @beausling @stereotypicalbarbie @bejeweledinterludes @jensenacklesballsack @h8aaz @jjmbbg @freeluigihesbae @starzify @suckitands33 @unfortunate-brat @a-lil-pr1ncess @notsocoqquete1 @benscumgluzzer @bluestrd @rubyvhs @ohsc @deansw1fe @angelicjackles

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[thewinchesters-pants]