#spncarfuckersweek4

[finalgirlsamwinchester]

SPN 1.01, 'Pilot' | Andreas Malm & the Zetkin Collective, 'White Skin, Black Fuel: On the Danger of Fossil Fascism' | Titane (2021) dir. Julia Ducournau | SPN 1.20 trans., 'Dead Man's Blood' | SPN 5.08, 'Changing Channels' | | Crash (1996) dir. David Cronenberg | SPN 6.06, 'You Can't Handle the Truth' | SPN 2.02, 'Everybody Loves a Clown' | Georges Bataille, 'Death and Sensuality' | SPN 1.16, 'Shadow' | Tetsuo: Iron Man (1989) dir. Shinya Tsukamoto

[ruinedsam]

For spncarfuckersweek 4 :3

[kirathehyrulian]

Two things: • The visible heartbreak on Dean's face when Sam said that he didn't care. 💔 • And Dean's ever growing list of kinky needs. 😌

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[trials-era-sam]

mistyped my tag as ‘carcuckerweek’ and. i don’t have access to subtitled screenshots or anything rn but. anyone remember in 5x05 when dean called james dean’s car Baby because that was definitely him being a car cucker

[nyxocity]

Baby Let Me Bang Your Tail Pipe - Dean/Impala/Dom Toretto (explicit)

After the most inexplicable three hours of his life, Dean stands in Dominic Toretto’s garage, which is empty except for the Impala, because Dom’s car is in about fifty billion pieces at the bottom of the river in downtown.

“She was eighty percent badass, twenty percent sweetheart,” Dom had said, somber when Dean had extended his condolences.

Dean had only met Dom three hours and twenty eight explosions ago, but he likes him a lot already.

“Listen,” Dean says, appreciative, “if you hadn’t driven through those three buildings and killed ninety-seven people, me and Sam would be dead right now. I feel like I at least owe you a beer.”

Dean pulls a brown bottle of Margiekugel beer out of the cooler in the backseat of the Impala and hands it to Dom. The second it touches Dom’s hand, it turns into a bottle of Corona.

Dom is beginning to walk around the Impala, looking at the car with undisguised appreciation in his eyes. “Nineteen-sixty-seven Chevy Impala, one of only seven thousand produced, 327 V-8 Turbo-Fire 275 horsepower, dual exhaust pipes, slammed down on a built Hotchkiss performance suspension.”

Dean stares at him in surprise. “Dude. I haven’t even popped her hood yet.”

Dom shakes his head. “Some things you just know. Not built to race, but she purred like a lion earlier,” Dom goes on, his voice low and husky. His dark eyes rake over the Impala’s polished lines and curves, admiration and dark dirty lust Dean recognizes all to well shining in them. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Dean slides a hand along the shiny hood with a proud smile. “Listen. I owe you for what you did today, but I don’t let just anyone put their hands on my girl.”

“You know what happened today?”

“I know you drove through three buildings made out of glass and steel, crashed into a semi, flew through a windshield and landed on the hood of another car before grabbing a rope hanging from a nearby crane and swinging over the edge of a bridge, dropping two miles straight down into a river just before everything exploded for absolutely no reason—including the bridge.”

Dom seems unimpressed by Dean’s recount of everything that had happened on the bridge, and Dean thinks that must be a regular Tuesday for this guy.

“And I saved your lives,” Dom says.

“Yeah.” Dean nods. “I still don’t get how landing on the hood of a car flying at a hundred and thirty miles an hour cushions your impact.”

“Skill.” Dom smirks.

Dean thinks for a moment. “I still don’t get how you’re alive. I’ve died seven times doing way less than that.” He frowns. “A hundred and seven times if you count that one Tuesday.”

Dom takes a drink from his Corona and walks towards him, his eyes squinted nearly shut as he focuses on Dean. “You don’t understand. What I did—what we went through today—that makes us family now.”

“Family, huh?” Dean eyes Dom up and down. “That might make this vibe a little weird.”

Dom huffs out a short, rough laugh. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you look at your brother.”

Dean licks his lips, eyefucking Dom harder. “Well in that case, maybe we can—”

“Just the car, Dean.” Sam’s voice is muffled, coming from outside the garage door.

“How can he hear me?” Dean whispers.

Dom nods in the direction of the Impala. “What do you think?”

And well, the guy had defied every law of physics known to man, beast and amoebas and blown up his car and everything else in a fifty mile radius—somehow—to save their lives. Dean supposes the least he can do is share his baby to make up for the loss of Dom’s. He’d like to have Sam join and all four of them could have a good time, but Sam seems to want to sit this one out.

“Do you want to see her, first?” Dean asks.

They look under her hood, Dom touching her parts reverently with gentle fingers, and Dean watches on with approval as Dom compliments her engine. They do a tour of her gorgeously lined, sleek body, and finally Dom rounds the Impala and kneels down by the back bumper.

“Look at the chrome on these tail pipes.” He gives a low whistle of appreciation.

“I take good care of her. I’m a gentleman,” Dean proclaims, walking around to stand next to him. The tailpipes gleam like a diamond in the garage light, spotless and shined to perfection. The left one is his favorite, and he finds his eyes drawn to it like a magnet, cock stiffening at the thought. The darkness at its center calls to him, begs him to take her like he has so many times before—and he will. But not today.

“Be sweet to her. Treat her like a lady,” Dean tells Dom, palm sliding along the edge of her trunk.

“Of course,” Dom agrees, like there was never any question.

“What do you think, old girl?” Dom asks, his fingertips teasing at the center of her hole. “Think you can take me?”

Dean wants to watch, he really does, but he’s got his own hard cock to think about, and they could each take a tail pipe but that could lead to taking each other and Sam specifically anti-approved that. That means he’s going to use the hood and rub off between her headlights. He pulls two bottles of lube out of the glove compartment and hands one to Dom, keeping the other for himself.

He lets his fingers glide along her curves as he walks back to the hood, his raging hard on seeming to pull him along.

He takes a little time, feeling up her headlights, running his hands along the lines of her hood, fingers teasing in the ridges of the grill. He teases until he can hardly stand it, blood pounding, cock painfully hard, and stands up, undoing his jeans and pushing them down around his hips.

His slicks the shaft generously with lube, shoving the bottle in his back jeans pocket and then lowers his hips, shivers racing up his spine fast as the car Dom had blown to smithereens earlier. He lets his dicks slide across the smooth, shiny, waxed surface of her hood and shudders with delight.

Dean pumps his hips like the pistons lying still beneath her hood, feeling the drag and pull of her sleek, cool metal. He can hear Dom grunting, groaning, see his hands caressing the Impala’s trunk, grabbing hold of it as the car rocks harder and harder, hood rubbing against Dean’s dick with sweet friction.

“Oh, what a… good… girl…” Dom grunts, punctuating the pauses between words with thrusts of his hips, and Dean almost comes right there, hearing Dom praising his girl for being such a good fuck.

His girl. And she is good. She’s so good, and Dean doesn’t even have to move anymore, Dom’s twists and thrusts rocking the car back and forth against Dean’s shaft, faster and harder and he can feel the reverberation all through him, feel the tightening in his balls and stomach, orgasm rising up fast and hard inside him.

It hits him like a freight train, like a bullet to the brain blowing out the back of his skull, hips grinding the slick of his come against the hood, so wet and slippery and god it feels like heaven. But he knows nothing feels as good as her tail pipe, that perfect, dark hole filled with lube, dripping wet and taking him deep—the way she’s taking Dom right now—and he can hear the other man coming, feel the graceless rocking of the car as he loses all rhythm, grunting and spurting inside her.

Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and he comes with a violent burst, whiting out with pleasure. He leans against the hood, panting heavily, aftershocks running through his nerves, slick from belly to chest with come, and he leans down, presses his lips to her metal.

“So gorgeous. You never let me down, baby.”

At the back of the car, Dom has gotten to his feet, leaning heavily against the trunk. Through the windshield and rear windows separating them, they share a smile.

“Are you guys done fucking the car yet?” Sam’s voice is less muffled this time from outside the door.

“Just need to clean up,” Dean answers.

When they’re done cleaning her, Dom hands him back the cleaning cloth and gives him a wide smile.

“You know,” he says, “I have an Impala, too. Sexy red and white number, gorgeous chrome.”

Dean can feel his dick trying to get hard again. “Introduce me?”

Dom nods.

“And Sam, too?”

“Of course.” Dom grins. “We’re all family now.”

And they all got into the Impala and sped off down the street, hitting a ramp and flying over two tractor trailers, a space station and sling-shotting around the sun before crashing down and screeching off into the sunset.

[lorewhoresam]

Castiel at karaoke when he finds out Dean's been fucking his car:

[lindamccartneysstrap]

will there be a carfucker week this year 🥺

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND (2 people)

FOR THE FOURTH YEAR RUNNING THE ONE AND ONLY SPN CARFUCKERS WEEK

as always, all carfuckers, canonical or otherwise are allowed. tag your assorted creations as #spncarfuckersweek4 or #spncarfuckersweek2024 for a chance to win*

* - a reblog from me to my assorted followers

[kirathehyrulian]

A pleathora of cursed but practical carfucking knowledge waiting to be uncovered. 📦

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[kirathehyrulian]

Dean needs an adult 😐

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[kirathehyrulian]

I feel like different impala '67 image search screenshots should be edited over every computer screen in SPN now.

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[kirathehyrulian]

😔 Family carfucking interventions never run smooth.

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[trials-era-sam]

HAPPY CARFUCKERWEEK BESTIES!!!!! more than one carfucker in this family <33

Sam and the Impala. ♥️

Couldn’t let go of @ruinedsam’s thoughts on this post. Had to make a gifset about it :)

[kirathehyrulian]

🔥🚘spncarfuckersweek4 coming 6/10-14/2024.🚘🔥

"Bad Day" by Daniel Powter plays as Sam walks away.

Also I looked up the original paints for the 1967 impala and saw 9300 Tuxedo Black AA. The more you know.🌠

Oh, and happy birthday Sam Winchester🧡

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[kirathehyrulian]

🔥🚘spncarfuckersweek4 coming 6/10-14/2024.🚘🔥

I keep flip flopping on whether I view this story as wincest or weirdcest. I'd like to think that the content is ambiguous enough that it could be either or if the reader has a preference. But I know mileage may vary on labels.

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[kirathehyrulian]

Warming up before the up coming spncarfuckersweek4 during 6/10-14/2024.

Before making this comic, I thought motor oil was always black. But, no, it's normally a yellow or amber coming out of the bottle and gets darker as it ages.

For more edits: AO3 spncarfuckers series [click here] or myedits tag [click here]

[samanddean76]

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Seriously, just this side of completely batshit crazy, but so fucking hilarious! Kudos!

Baby Let Me Bang Your Tail Pipe - Dean/Impala/Dom Toretto (explicit)

After the most inexplicable three hours of his life, Dean stands in Dominic Toretto’s garage, which is empty except for the Impala, because Dom’s car is in about fifty billion pieces at the bottom of the river in downtown.

“She was eighty percent badass, twenty percent sweetheart,” Dom had said, somber when Dean had extended his condolences.

Dean had only met Dom three hours and twenty eight explosions ago, but he likes him a lot already.

“Listen,” Dean says, appreciative, “if you hadn’t driven through those three buildings and killed ninety-seven people, me and Sam would be dead right now. I feel like I at least owe you a beer.”

Dean pulls a brown bottle of Margiekugel beer out of the cooler in the backseat of the Impala and hands it to Dom. The second it touches Dom’s hand, it turns into a bottle of Corona.

Dom is beginning to walk around the Impala, looking at the car with undisguised appreciation in his eyes. “Nineteen-sixty-seven Chevy Impala, one of only seven thousand produced, 327 V-8 Turbo-Fire 275 horsepower, dual exhaust pipes, slammed down on a built Hotchkiss performance suspension.”

Dean stares at him in surprise. “Dude. I haven’t even popped her hood yet.”

Dom shakes his head. “Some things you just know. Not built to race, but she purred like a lion earlier,” Dom goes on, his voice low and husky. His dark eyes rake over the Impala’s polished lines and curves, admiration and dark dirty lust Dean recognizes all to well shining in them. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is.” Dean slides a hand along the shiny hood with a proud smile. “Listen. I owe you for what you did today, but I don’t let just anyone put their hands on my girl.”

“You know what happened today?”

“I know you drove through three buildings made out of glass and steel, crashed into a semi, flew through a windshield and landed on the hood of another car before grabbing a rope hanging from a nearby crane and swinging over the edge of a bridge, dropping two miles straight down into a river just before everything exploded for absolutely no reason—including the bridge.”

Dom seems unimpressed by Dean’s recount of everything that had happened on the bridge, and Dean thinks that must be a regular Tuesday for this guy.

“And I saved your lives,” Dom says.

“Yeah.” Dean nods. “I still don’t get how landing on the hood of a car flying at a hundred and thirty miles an hour cushions your impact.”

“Skill.” Dom smirks.

Dean thinks for a moment. “I still don’t get how you’re alive. I’ve died seven times doing way less than that.” He frowns. “A hundred and seven times if you count that one Tuesday.”

Dom takes a drink from his Corona and walks towards him, his eyes squinted nearly shut as he focuses on Dean. “You don’t understand. What I did—what we went through today—that makes us family now.”

“Family, huh?” Dean eyes Dom up and down. “That might make this vibe a little weird.”

Dom huffs out a short, rough laugh. “I don’t think so. I’ve seen how you look at your brother.”

Dean licks his lips, eyefucking Dom harder. “Well in that case, maybe we can—”

“Just the car, Dean.” Sam’s voice is muffled, coming from outside the garage door.

“How can he hear me?” Dean whispers.

Dom nods in the direction of the Impala. “What do you think?”

And well, the guy had defied every law of physics known to man, beast and amoebas and blown up his car and everything else in a fifty mile radius—somehow—to save their lives. Dean supposes the least he can do is share his baby to make up for the loss of Dom’s. He’d like to have Sam join and all four of them could have a good time, but Sam seems to want to sit this one out.

“Do you want to see her, first?” Dean asks.

They look under her hood, Dom touching her parts reverently with gentle fingers, and Dean watches on with approval as Dom compliments her engine. They do a tour of her gorgeously lined, sleek body, and finally Dom rounds the Impala and kneels down by the back bumper.

“Look at the chrome on these tail pipes.” He gives a low whistle of appreciation.

“I take good care of her. I’m a gentleman,” Dean proclaims, walking around to stand next to him. The tailpipes gleam like a diamond in the garage light, spotless and shined to perfection. The left one is his favorite, and he finds his eyes drawn to it like a magnet, cock stiffening at the thought. The darkness at its center calls to him, begs him to take her like he has so many times before—and he will. But not today.

“Be sweet to her. Treat her like a lady,” Dean tells Dom, palm sliding along the edge of her trunk.

“Of course,” Dom agrees, like there was never any question.

“What do you think, old girl?” Dom asks, his fingertips teasing at the center of her hole. “Think you can take me?”

Dean wants to watch, he really does, but he’s got his own hard cock to think about, and they could each take a tail pipe but that could lead to taking each other and Sam specifically anti-approved that. That means he’s going to use the hood and rub off between her headlights. He pulls two bottles of lube out of the glove compartment and hands one to Dom, keeping the other for himself.

He lets his fingers glide along her curves as he walks back to the hood, his raging hard on seeming to pull him along.

He takes a little time, feeling up her headlights, running his hands along the lines of her hood, fingers teasing in the ridges of the grill. He teases until he can hardly stand it, blood pounding, cock painfully hard, and stands up, undoing his jeans and pushing them down around his hips.

His slicks the shaft generously with lube, shoving the bottle in his back jeans pocket and then lowers his hips, shivers racing up his spine fast as the car Dom had blown to smithereens earlier. He lets his dicks slide across the smooth, shiny, waxed surface of her hood and shudders with delight.

Dean pumps his hips like the pistons lying still beneath her hood, feeling the drag and pull of her sleek, cool metal. He can hear Dom grunting, groaning, see his hands caressing the Impala’s trunk, grabbing hold of it as the car rocks harder and harder, hood rubbing against Dean’s dick with sweet friction.

“Oh, what a… good… girl…” Dom grunts, punctuating the pauses between words with thrusts of his hips, and Dean almost comes right there, hearing Dom praising his girl for being such a good fuck.

His girl. And she is good. She’s so good, and Dean doesn’t even have to move anymore, Dom’s twists and thrusts rocking the car back and forth against Dean’s shaft, faster and harder and he can feel the reverberation all through him, feel the tightening in his balls and stomach, orgasm rising up fast and hard inside him.

It hits him like a freight train, like a bullet to the brain blowing out the back of his skull, hips grinding the slick of his come against the hood, so wet and slippery and god it feels like heaven. But he knows nothing feels as good as her tail pipe, that perfect, dark hole filled with lube, dripping wet and taking him deep—the way she’s taking Dom right now—and he can hear the other man coming, feel the graceless rocking of the car as he loses all rhythm, grunting and spurting inside her.

Dean’s eyes roll back in his head and he comes with a violent burst, whiting out with pleasure. He leans against the hood, panting heavily, aftershocks running through his nerves, slick from belly to chest with come, and he leans down, presses his lips to her metal.

“So gorgeous. You never let me down, baby.”

At the back of the car, Dom has gotten to his feet, leaning heavily against the trunk. Through the windshield and rear windows separating them, they share a smile.

“Are you guys done fucking the car yet?” Sam’s voice is less muffled this time from outside the door.

“Just need to clean up,” Dean answers.

When they’re done cleaning her, Dom hands him back the cleaning cloth and gives him a wide smile.

“You know,” he says, “I have an Impala, too. Sexy red and white number, gorgeous chrome.”

Dean can feel his dick trying to get hard again. “Introduce me?”

Dom nods.

“And Sam, too?”

“Of course.” Dom grins. “We’re all family now.”

And they all got into the Impala and sped off down the street, hitting a ramp and flying over two tractor trailers, a space station and sling-shotting around the sun before crashing down and screeching off into the sunset.