Dean Winchester

Dean never noticed how much the size difference between you affected him until recently.

It started off small. You'd only been dating for a few months, and it was your first time staying with Dean. You knew about the bunker, hunting, all of it, and after staying up 'till midnight watching movies with him, Sam, and Cas, you two decided to call it a night. You showered, and only after the fact, realized that you forgot a change of clothes.

"It's no problem," Dean told you, "really." He pulled a hoodie and sweatpants out of his dresser and passed it off to you. When you stepped out of the bathroom, his throat went dry.

His black hoodie was at least two sizes too big for you, and the extra fabric of the sweatpants he gave you pooled around your ankles. He told you it was adorable to your face, but in his mind, he knew that it just unleashed something inside of him that he didn't know existed.

Dean noticed it again the next morning. You were reaching for something on the top shelf in the bunker's kitchen, standing on a chair that was about to tip over if you reached any further. He swept in without a word, simply grabbing it for you, then helping you off the chair. He kissed the top of your forehead. "Next time, when you need somethin' that high up, you come get me. Don't want a pretty thing like you getting hurt."

Every little occurrence after that spurred him on. How he had to bend down to kiss you. How when you went out, even your tallest heels didn't make a dent on your height difference. How your hand was so small in his when he held it. It made him think -- dirty.

So when you finally got into bed with him, bunker empty for once, his hands all over your body, he knew that this height thing would finally make him crumble. Dean's hands ran down your sides, thighs, arms, anywhere he could reach, every part feeling small in his palms. His lips were latched onto yours in a mixture of tongue and teeth, nipping at every chance and tongue soothing the bite. Clothes came off in a rush and ended up a pile on the floor, leaving you bare in front of him.

Dean's thick middle finger ran through your slick like a test before sliding into your hole, and the feeling of you stretching around him made him swallow hard. "Jesus, you're tight," he murmured as he watched in awe at you trying to adjust to him. He was packing a pretty average size, and seeing how you worked to take just his finger? It made him weak.