živana 💐

⟡ before dating you:

was super attracted to you before he even said a single word to you 

it was definitely lust at first sight (he wouldn't have minded sleeping with you) 

then you opened your mouth, and he was like, oh man, they're gonna be trouble, aren't they (as if he isn't trouble as well) 

you guys bickered a lot. like A LOT to the point where sam would have to remove himself from the room or get in between you two in order to stop the bickering 

the bickering got so bad that sam had to lock the two of you in the motel room sam and he were sharing and didn't let you guys out until the two of you could have a civil conversation 

you guys eventually stopped bickering out of malice after finding common ground between the two of you 

there was bickering but it read more of an old married couple bantering with one another 

then somehow, you guys became friends, and the physical attraction that dean had to you had morphed into something else and then he realized that he liked you 

he only confessed his feelings when you had a close call with a ghoul and blurted out his feelings to you when patching you up 

⟡ dating dean winchester:

you would describe dating dean as a roller coaster, but like all relationships, it has its ups and downs 

it was hard to have vulnerable conversations with dean without the infamous hunters' helper (alcohol lol)

you guys fought a lot at the beginning of your relationship bc you were fighting tooth and nail to get him to at least try and talk to you 

you soon realized that you would have to take a different approach to it and eventually let him come to you when he needed it 

it took a while, but once he put his walls down and trusted you, it seemed like a weight was lifted off of him when he finally told you a sliver of what was going on in his head 

⟡ soft dean!

now, this is where we get soft! dean 

we all know that dean is secretly a softy at heart, and you see it in the more quiet moments with him

he'll stare at you when the two of you are researching or when you're bustling around the kitchen, prepping and cooking lunch for the three of you 

and without fail, a cute blush will appear on his face, making his freckles pop against the red hue of his cheeks as you catch him staring at you  "what are you looking at?" you asked with a wide smile on your face.  "just you sweetheart." he tries to play off his flustered state with a wink, but you shook your head, knowing he was a bit embarrassed he got caught staring.

speaking about getting flustered, he loves teasing you and trying to get you flustered with fleeting touches, flirty gestures, and outright whispering the filthiest things that he wants to do you during the most inconvenient times, like if you're on a case or researching 

what he didn't take into account when he started it was that you would dish it right back at him

he loves it when you keep him on your toes 

⟡ pet names

OH another thing, PET NAMES  he loves using pet names for you 

we have the usual sweetheart, babe (not baby bc you know you come in a close third after sam and the impala) (he's tried arguing that's not true, but you knew it and understood you came after both of them).

he would def call you honey, beautiful, angel, and some variation of your name/nickname 

if he's in a playful mood, he'd probably call you borderline cringe pet names like pumpkin, sweet cheeks, pookie these are the ones you roll your eyes at since he knows you hate them

⟡ love langauges

now, his love languages, his main ones to give are acts of service, physical affection, and quality time, while the ones he likes to receive are physical touch, words of affirmation, and quality time 

⟡ physical touch

now, physical touch is a given for dean  he's a very tactical man and is a sucker for it 

when he can, he'll always be touching you, holding your hand or resting on your shoulder, thighs pressed together while sitting together eating in a diner booth, cuddling while watching a movie or always being in his arms while sleeping together, making out wherever whenever (his favorite place is obviously in the backseat of baby) 

but there are days when he needs physical affection from you, and you gladly give it to him, and he's a sucker for you when you play with his hair 

PDA, man is shameless with the PDA  he doesn't care he will kiss you no matter what and when he can  he loves you, and even if he's afraid to say it, he'll definitely show it to you 

⟡ acts of service

which brings me to acts of service  dean will do anything for you even if you didn't ask for him to do it  makes breakfast for you almost every morning, gives you his flannel when you're cold (he loves to see you in his clothes), replaces the lightbulb in your lamp when you mentioned it was flickering, taking care of you when you get drunk (he did this even before the two of you started to date and bickered the entire time), but the list goes on and on 

dean just likes to take care of the people he loves (it was practically ingrained into him at a young age) 

⟡ quality time

he also likes spending time with you it doesn't matter if the two of you aren't talking and working on your own tasks; he likes being in your presence (it soothes him)  with how crazy his life is, he loves the mundane things/tasks he does with you

sometimes, he'll go run errands with you, not bc he's bored and wants to avoid research (which is actually the main excuse at times) but, he likes the sense of normalcy it brings him when the two of you are together, and when you spend time with him 

⟡ words of affirmation

now, dean would never admit it to you (or to himself), but he needs to be reassured 

his mind is a dangerous place for him, and he can find himself drowning in his self-deprecating and self-destructive thoughts (these are also the days he needs you the most, and your touch is grounding to him) 

your words act as a lifeboat for him in the chaotic storm that is his mind and calms them down significantly 

he slowly works on his self-esteem and self-worth, but with your help, it's a little easier for him 

⟡ protective

this is a given, but he is SO protective of you 

dean is a fiercely protective person at his core and will do anything and everything to keep the people that he loves safe, and now that includes you 

some arguments were had when dean was being overbearing and flat out refusing to let you go on certain hunts with them bc it was too dangerous. you had to remind him that you were a hunter before you met him and will continue being one until the day you decide to try and retire or die 

he doesn't like it when you hunt alone, and so he always tries to come with you or send sam with you if he's indisposed for some reason 

Love Languages

acts of service

he’s the one post that’s like my love language is acts of service but all i know to do is kill

he will murder anything that hurts you. he is very protective but it’s cause he loves you, ‘kay?

does little things; picks you up your favorite snacks and drinks when he gets supplies, always makes sure there’s enough coffee for you.

he’ll bother making sure the impala always has a blanket or one of his jackets for you. he likes making sure you’re comfortable!

physical touch

please please please cradle his face it brings him so much comfort. he melts into it and gives you these big sad eyes and all you can do is kiss his forehead or just utter a ‘i love you’ or ‘you’re so pretty’

likes to just lay with you. he’ll take naps while you research, head plopped in your lap and body splayed across the bed. maybe instead he’ll rest his head on your shoulder and throw an arm around your torso. you get the point.

sometimes boots sam into the backseat so that he can have his passenger prince(ss). hand holding yours or holding your thigh, his mood automatically better than when you’re in the backseat.

words of affirmation

now, he himself does not convey his thoughts and feelings into words often. something something toxic masculinity.

he does, however, seriously appreciate when you tell him how you feel.

he’s a puddle in your hands as you remind him that you love him and that he’s so good to you and that he’s soo handsome. he’s looking at you with puppy eyes and his lips look so soft it’s not your fault if you give him a little kiss.

Dates

drives in the impala. he’ll drop sam off back at the motel or at a bar or restaurant and will just drive around with you. holding your hand, his music playing through the car. whenever you stop at a red light, he turns to you and gives you a soft look and sings a line of the song to you.

crappy diners. there are millions in the us, you make a list of your favorites just for fun. it’s just eating food and talking while doing so, it’s so simple yet so rejuvenating. he loves doing this with you, escaping his life for the hour you spend together.

watching tv or movies from the motel tv. cuddled in bed, he’s wearing his sleep shirt and a pair of boxers, arms around you and head on your shoulder. you could be watching anything from children's cartoons to horror films, he doesn’t mind as long as you’re in his arms.

coffee shops. on an off day, you two can actually sit in a coffee shop rather than grabbing a coffee and running off to investigate people. feet touching under the table, sipping coffees while people watching outside. he tells you that you two could’ve still been in bed, hearts replacing his pupils.

lying in bed talking. this technically doesn’t count as a ‘date’, but i’m putting it here; he’s wrapped you in his arms and is resting his head on your chest. speaking in whispers so that you don’t wake up sam, you’re pouring your hearts out to each other. you could also he arguing about whether or not a hot dog is a sandwich or not, the conversations are endless.

concerts. it was said the brothers would catch a few on their off days, so why can’t you two? he looks to see which artists you both like are touring and where, then just takes you out of the blue. never tells you so that he can see the surprise and then the excitement. he sings along loudly and terribly, but he holds you close and sways you and kisses your temple, so you don’t mind.

Kisses

he loves kissing you. he loves your skin against his lips. he loves you <3

unsurprisingly his favorite is kissing your lips. melting into you while sitting, making out with you in the car, small kisses to wake you up. he doesn’t appreciate pecks. if you give him one he’s chasing you and giving you a proper kiss.

his absolute favorite kinds of kisses are the ones where you’re both desperate for each other. teeth clinking, lips melding and breathing heavy as you break apart, noses bumping together if you lean in too quickly. it reminds him you want him just as badly as he wants you.

kisses your forehead after he comes back from a hunt, then hugs you. he just needs a moment to ground himself, and then he’s kissing the top of your head and sighing into your hair.

cheek kisses are greetings and goodbyes. you bring him coffee in the morning while he’s talking to sam, he gives you a cheek kiss and a small ‘hello’. he’s about to leave to pick up food for everyone, he kisses your cheek after getting your order. the only time they aren’t hello’s/goodbye’s are when he’s leaving and coming back from a hunt. then it’s a loving kiss to the lips, slow and meaningful.

something he likes, kisses to the knuckles. they have freckles on them, like his nose, so of course you have to show them love. you press a kiss to each, then in between. then, of course, are the knuckles on his fingers. then the back of his hand. makes him so giddy, he’s smiling and blushing and gazing at you like you’re the whole world.

he would also love the one trend. i’m sure he’d love you kissing his bicep while wearing lip gloss/lipstick of some sort. a. it makes him feel strong and b. it makes him feel loved <3

Random

if anything bad happens to you ever he’s so so sad and it’s automatically his fault and his duty to make it up to you. kisses your cheeks and holds you to his chest and cradles your head and he’s mumbling about how he’ll make it all better.

gets so flustered if you press the right buttons. if you can respond to his flirting with a witty response or a better line he’s blushing and looking at you with awe. he’s fallen for you at least three times already.

he’s a mean fighter. gets defensive, yells and gets angry. if he gets mad enough he’ll throw or punch something. after his initial burst he takes one look in your eyes and feels a wave of terror and he’s mumbling apologies and trying to breathe calmly. he’s got tears pooled in his eyes when you hug him and forgive him. he’s never wants to upset you.

he’s still a kid at heart. when sam’s out at the library or getting food or spending the night elsewhere, the two of you settle into the motel bed. cuddled together, dean’s head on your chest as he watches the tv. some cartoon is playing, maybe it’s scooby doo, maybe it’s gummi bears, maybe it’s ducktales. please humor him, it makes him feel so warm and cared for.

has made you multiple mixtapes. one is his favorite songs, one is songs that remind him of you, one is songs that are “written for us”, one is songs he knows you like. blue oyster cult, led zeppelin, van halen, aerosmith commonly adorn them. the thought is sweet and the fact that songs are rarely put on multiple tapes is lovely.

his favorite photo he’s taken on his phone is of you sitting on the impala’s hood. “it’s my two babies in one, c’mon”

please let him small spoon. it means everything to him to be able to trust you with being vulnerable like that. he likes hugging your arms while they’re wrapped around him, he sleeps harder than he ever has in his life. does like to spoon you though. sometimes he just needs to remember you’re real, or he feels like he needs to protect you. holds you close to his chest and curls around you to keep you safe.

following that, i feel like there are some nights he doesn’t want to cuddle. he just needs a moment to himself to recharge and feel better. he’ll lay on one side, arm hanging off the bed. he sleeps well with you just beside him, he can feel your heat trapped in the blankets. sometimes he’ll wake up from a nightmare and just roll over and hold you, sometimes you’ll wake him and he just rolls over to hold you.

he didn't tell you about it at first. the camera just kind of appeared one day, tucked inside his duffle, and when you asked him about it, he looked a little embarrassed. "just thought it'd be nice to take some pictures of the scenery," he said with a shrug, like it wasn't a big deal. and maybe to him, it wasn't. at least, not in the way you thought.

but instead of snapping pictures of the rundown motels and backroads they traveled for work, dean found himself using the camera for something else entirely.

it wasn't until the two of you went on a mini-vacation, a week-long stay at a beach resort that you'd been talking about for years, that he really started to use it. you love the beach—always have. there's something about the sound of the waves, the feel of the sand beneath your feet, the salty breeze tangling in your hair, that makes you feel calm. and dean, well, he loves seeing you that way. relaxed, happy, at peace. so while you were busy soaking in the sun, or wading into the water, or just staring off into the distance with that little smile on your face, he was busy capturing it all.

you didn't know, of course. dean was sneaky like that. he didn't make a big show of it, didn't tell you to 'pose' or 'smile.' he just… watched you, quietly, through the lens, snapping photos of you when you weren't paying attention. and when you finally did notice him with the camera, he'd flash you that cocky grin of his and say something like, "just taking pictures of the view."

a few days later, after one of those long, lazy showers you and dean sometimes took together (the kind that weren't just about getting clean, if you know what i mean), that you stumbled upon a little secret of his. he stayed back in the bathroom, washing off a little longer, and you were sitting on the edge of the bed, feeling that post-shower glow, when you noticed a small album tucked underneath a pile of clothes in his black duffle.

curious, you pulled it out, flipping through the pages, and your breath caught in your throat. it wasn't just pictures of random places he'd been on hunts. it was you. photo after photo of you. at the beach, of course, but also in moments you didn't even realize he'd been watching—laughing, lost in thought, maybe even sleeping. and the pictures weren't just good; they were stunning. like, they looked like something out of a magazine, the kind of photos you'd see in a vogue or some fancy travel magazine.

you couldn't believe he'd taken them.

before he could catch you snooping, you quickly put the album back where you found it, heart racing a little, and changed into your pajamas, trying to act like nothing had happened. but the pictures stayed on your mind, even as you and dean curled up in bed and ordered some room service to cap off the night.

after that, you never mentioned it to him. you didn't want to make a big deal out of it, though you kind of wanted to. instead, you found yourself sneaking the camera for your own little adventures. when dean was out or distracted, you'd pull it from his bag and take a few selfies, figuring out how to use the thing. at first, it was a little tricky—those cameras are no joke—but with a little patience, you got the hang of it. you never did anything scandalous, just some cute pictures of yourself, and then you'd put it back in its place before dean could notice it was gone.

and he never did. at least, not until one night in your shared apartment. you were in the kitchen, snacking on some chocolate-covered strawberries dean had picked up on his way home from a hunt (because, in his words, they reminded him of you), and you were nose-deep in a romance novel you'd been dying to read. you heard him walking down the hallway, but you didn't think much of it. you were too wrapped up in your book and your snack, the perfect cozy day in.

what you didn't realize was that dean had found out about your little secret. he'd been going through the camera, checking out some new shots he'd taken, when he stumbled upon your selfies. not just the recent ones, either—he found all of them.

so when he came into the kitchen, camera in hand, he wasn't mad. in fact, he had this look on his face—kind of amused, kind of in awe. "so, you've been stealing my camera, huh?" he asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

you looked up at him, mouth full of strawberry, and gave him your cheekiest smile. "maybe," you said.

he didn't mind, though. if anything, he seemed impressed that you'd managed to sneak past him without him noticing. but later that same night, as you were getting ready for bed, you noticed something on his bedside table—a second album, smaller than the one you'd found before.

curiosity piqued again, you opened it up, and what you saw made your heart melt. dean had taken all the photos from the other album and added more—your selfies, the pictures he'd taken of you, everything. but this time, he'd decorated the pages with little stickers and captions in his messy, but endearing, handwriting. things like 'my beautiful girl,' 'my little mermaid,' 'my baby going for a swim.'

tears welled up in your eyes as you flipped through the pages, overwhelmed by how sweet and thoughtful it all was.

before you could even process it fully, you felt dean's arms wrap around you from behind, his bare chest warm against your back. you turned around in his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and peppering kisses all over his face. "you really did all this for me?" you asked softly.

he nodded, his expression soft and sincere. "yeah, baby. wanted somethin' to remember you by when i'm out on hunts. somethin' special."

he even told you that he kept one of your selfies in his wallet, and that he loved showing it off to anyone who'd listen—sam, other hunters, whoever. "you're my girl," he said, pride in his voice.

and you couldn't help but smile wide, knowing that, no matter where the road took him, DEAN WINCHESTER was always thinking of you.

your leg bounced restlessly under the table, a nervous habit you'd developed over years of hunting. the original plan had been to hit the local bar—a much-needed break from the constant research and hunting—but sam's extended absence had relegated you and dean to more case work.

"would you cut that out?" dean's gruff voice broke through the silence, his green eyes fixed on your fidgeting form. "you're making the whole table shake."

you mumbled an apology, trying to still your movements, but the restless energy continued to course through your body. your relationship with dean was... complicated. best friends who occasionally crossed lines that friends shouldn't, but neither of you ever complained about it. it worked for you both, somehow.

"i can't help it," you whined softly, shifting in your chair again. "we've been sitting here forever."

dean watched you for a moment, his tongue darting out to wet his lips — a gesture that shouldn't have affected you as much as it did. "come here," he ordered, his voice dropping an octave lower.

you hesitated, knowing exactly what that tone meant. "dean..."

"now," he demanded, pushing his chair back slightly from the table. "you clearly need help focusing, and i know exactly what'll help."

heat pooled in your lower belly as you stood, making your way around the table to where he sat. dean's hands found your hips instantly, guiding you to straddle his right thigh. you could feel the heat of his skin through your thin black leggings as they pressed against the rough denim of his jeans.

"there you go," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "now be a good girl and help yourself while i work. maybe this'll help with that restless energy of yours."

your breath hitched as he pulled sam's laptop closer, acting as if he hadn't just given you permission to get yourself off on his thigh. his free hand remained on your hip, encouraging you to move.

slowly, you began to rock against him, the friction of your leggings against his jeans creating the perfect pressure. dean continued scrolling through newspaper articles, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his thigh flexed beneath you every so often.

"that's it," he praised quietly, his eyes still fixed on the screen. "just like that, sweetheart."

your movements became more desperate as the pleasure built, your hands gripping his shoulders for leverage. the material of his flannel bunched under your fingers as you ground down harder, the thin fabric of your leggings doing nothing to dull the sensation.

dean's grip on your hip tightened, guiding your movements when they became erratic. "focus," he reminded you, though his voice had grown hoarse. "sam could be back any minute. wouldn't want him walking in on his brother's best friend getting off on his thigh, would we?"

the thought should have made you stop, but instead, it sent a thrill through you. you buried your face in dean's neck, muffling your whimpers against his skin as you chased your release.

"fuck—dean," you breathed, your hips moving faster.

"i've got you," he assured, finally looking away from the laptop to watch your face. "come on, baby. let go for me."

your orgasm washed over you suddenly, your body trembling as dean held you steady. his free hand stroked your back soothingly as you came down from your high, your breathing gradually returning to normal.

"better?" he asked, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

you nodded, still too blissed out to form words. dean pressed a quick kiss to your temple before gently nudging you to stand on shaky legs.

"good. now maybe we can get some work done before sammy gets back."

you returned to your seat, noticing how dean adjusted himself in his jeans when he thought you weren't looking. the restless energy was gone, replaced by a pleasant buzz that made focusing on the journal's pages much easier.

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."

he lingers just outside the bathroom, hesitant, like he's not sure if you meant it when you told him to come join you. and when he finally pushes the door open, eyes flicking toward the curtain, he sounds… unsure.

"you sure about this, baby?" he asks, voice low and a little rough, like it's caught somewhere between desire and doubt. "i ain't exactly built for two-person showers these days."

you smile softly, even if he can't see it. "dean, baby, c'mon. water's perfect. and so are you."

a beat. then another.

"i just—i don't wanna crowd you," he mutters, closer now, voice quieter. "damn thing barely fit me on my own. now i got this—" he gestures vaguely, probably at his stomach, his broader frame, the way his body's softened with time and comfort and years of hard living — and maybe a few too many beers and late-night burgers. "might knock you over just tryin' to soap up."

you pull the curtain open partway, blink through the steam, and find him standing there in his boxers, shirt clutched loosely in one hand, hair already mussed from running his fingers through it too many times. he looks good. so good it aches, honestly. strong arms, soft belly, that solid, real body you've come to crave more than anything else. but his eyes won't quite meet yours, and that’s what gets you.

"dean," you say gently, stretching your hand out toward him. "get in here."

he hesitates, then steps out of his boxers and into the shower, careful like he's afraid he's going to break something. you shift back, giving him room, turning around to face the water as he settles in behind you. his body's warm even under the hot spray, and when your back meets his chest, he exhales into your shoulder like it's the first time he's breathed all day.

"see?" you murmur, reaching behind to rest your hand over his hip. "fits just fine to me."

"barely," he huffs, half a laugh, but it's still tinged with doubt.

you turn around slowly, water cascading down both your bodies now, and press your palms to his chest. his skin's warm and damp under your touch, soft in places, firm in others. you lean in, kiss the hollow of his throat, your fingers tracing down the curve of his stomach, the dip of his waist, the thick muscles of his arms.

"i love this," you whisper, lips brushing his collarbone. "i love you like this."

he groans under his breath, trying to look away, but you catch his jaw, make him meet your eyes. "don't do that," you murmur. "don't act like you don't know what you do to me."

his throat bobs as he swallows, and you feel him start to harden between you, your bodies slick and close under the water. he doesn't say anything, so you keep going, hands sliding down his chest, over the soft curve of his stomach, until your fingers wrap around him.

"you're sexy as hell, dean," you whisper, stroking him slow, deliberate. "always have been. but this—" your hand tightens just a little, "this right here? the way you've filled out? it drives me crazy."

his breath catches, hands gripping your waist now, holding you steady as you stroke him, your bodies pressed close, mouths brushing but not quite kissing. he's already hard in your hand, twitching against your palm, and when you lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth, he finally lets out a soft, broken sound that makes heat pool low in your belly.

you guide him to sit on the little bench built into the shower wall, straddling his lap carefully, your knees resting on either side of his thick thighs.

"holy shit," he mutters, looking up at you like he can't believe this is real. "you're somethin' else, sweetheart."

you just smile, lining him up and sinking down slow, letting him fill you inch by perfect inch. he groans, head falling back against the tile wall, hands trembling where they grip your hips.

"jesus, baby," he breathes. "y'feel so good."

you start to move, water washing over both of you in waves, your pace slow and deep, rolling your hips with purpose. every time you take him deeper, every time you clench around him just right, his hands grip you tighter, mouth spilling praise and curses in equal measure.

"look at me, honey," you whisper, cupping his face. "look how good you make me feel. how perfect you are."

he does — and he sees it this time. sees the way your eyes flutter, the way your lips part, the way your body moves with his like you were made to fit together, no matter how small the space.

he forgets about the size of the shower. forgets about the way his body's changed. forgets everything but the way you ride him like he's everything you've ever wanted.

because you do. you want all of him. always.

and in that moment, soaked and breathless, with your body wrapped around his and your praises echoing in his ears, he finally believes it too.

you didn't need space.

he flinches like he didn't hear you come in. eyes flick to yours, then away just as fast.

"nothin'," he mutters. "just lookin', sweetheart. shouldn't've had that second burger."

you walk over, slow and deliberate, hands sliding around his waist from behind. your palms press against the soft curve of his stomach, and you feel him tense.

"you say that like i didn't practically beg you to eat it."

"yeah, well," he shrugs, voice low. "used to have abs. now i got… this."

you frown, lips brushing the back of his neck. "used to think i needed a six-pack to get off. now i know all i need is you."

he lets out a soft breath, but you don't let go. you turn him gently, facing you, and tug his shirt the rest of the way off. dean looks down like he's bracing for judgment, but you're already kissing across his chest, slow and adoring.

"you're still the hottest guy i’ve ever seen,” you whisper against his skin. "soft here," you murmur, kissing his stomach, "hard here," your hand slides to his bicep, giving it a squeeze, "and all mine."

he groans, low and quiet, hands finding your waist as you push him gently to sit on the bed. he watches you climb into his lap, thighs bracketing his hips, eyes wide and warm.

you kiss him slow, long, lazy. the kind that says i’m not going anywhere. the kind that makes him melt from the inside out.

"let me remind you," you whisper, rolling your hips just enough to make him gasp, "how good you still are. how good you still make me feel."

he nods, eyes dark, voice cracking slightly. "yeah. okay. whatever you want, sweetheart."

you ride him slow, kissing every inch of skin he ever doubted. his soft tummy, his strong arms, the little lines around his eyes. praising him between moans, telling him he's beautiful, sexy, yours.

and by the time he falls apart beneath you, shaking and breathless, he believes you. maybe not forever.

but for tonight, he lets himself feel wanted.