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maddie0101 · 18 days ago

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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)

If you would like to be tagged please fill out THIS form and I will add you to the list! ❤︎

my works

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