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✶ you attempt a prank on dean—wiping off his kisses—until his pouting is too much for you to bear.
002. WARNINGS !
✶ really old tiktok trend & a lot of kissing.
word count : 1,4k
gif by @alliecathayes
You had been sprawled across Dean’s bed, lazily scrolling through TikTok while he was downstairs preparing breakfast, courtesy of Tucker’s cooking and Dean’s determination to steal half of it before anyone else could.
You barely paid attention to most of the videos until one caught your eye. It was of a girl wiping off her boyfriend’s kisses. The poor guy got more offended with every attempt, eventually following her around the room demanding affection like a neglected golden retriever.
Which, honestly, reminded you a little too much of Dean.
Especially the pout he got whenever he thought you were ignoring him.
So, much to your unsuspecting boyfriend’s future dismay, you decided you would be wiping off every kiss he tried to give you. It would be fun to see just how long you could keep the prank going.
A few minutes later, Dean came back upstairs, opening the door before quickly closing it behind him again. A habit your previously exhibitionist boyfriend had been forced to learn after his roommates walked in on the two of you in compromising positions one too many times, and you finally refused to endure the embarrassment anymore.
He walked in carrying two cups of coffee carefully balanced on a tray alongside eggs, fruit, and toast.
“Breakfast is served, m’lady,” he announced, setting the tray down on the bed before giving an exaggerated bow afterward.
You let out a snort, grabbing your coffee.
Dean sat down beside you, leaning over to grab a piece of toast and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek in the process. Casually, you scratched at the spot and wiped the kiss away.
For a brief moment, you thought Dean hadn’t noticed. Then he frowned and pressed another kiss to the same spot.
Just like before, you rubbed it off.
He let out an offended gasp, staring at you like you had personally betrayed him, but begrudgingly let it slide. Still, he sighed dramatically while chewing on his toast and eggs, already beginning to pout.
“Are you going to the gym with Garrett later?” You asked after a moment of silence, chewing on a strawberry.
Your boyfriend only hummed in response, quietly eating his breakfast.
“Okay…” you dragged out, an amused smile tugging at your lips at the sight of his puppy eyes, like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “Is there something on my face?”
You already knew there was. You could feel the strawberry juice dripping from the corner of your mouth.
It was practically catnip for Dean. He immediately leaned forward, pressing a tentative kiss to the spot, his lips brushing yours for a second before ultimately settling at the corner of your mouth instead.
The moment he leaned away, you rubbed at the spot and simply said, “Oh, thank you.”
You caught the way his lips parted in pure disbelief, and had to fight to keep your laughter from spilling out.
This time, Dean’s response to what he clearly considered a personal betrayal was far more aggressive.
He kissed you properly, lips parting against yours, warm and insistent enough that for a brief moment you considered throwing the prank out the window altogether and spending the rest of the day hidden away in his bedroom.
But instead, you leaned back and aggressively smudged at your lips, watching his entire face twist in horror.
“Did I get all the juice?” You asked innocently, still rubbing at your mouth and the skin around it.
“Why are you doing that?” Dean asked, sounding genuinely baffled.
“Doing what?” You finally stopped rubbing.
“You’re wiping off my kisses,” he whined. “Did I do something?”
“Dean, I’m not doing anything,” you said sweetly, smiling at him. “Just don’t want strawberry all over my face, you know?”
He held your gaze for a few long seconds before standing from the bed and disappearing into the bathroom.
For a moment, guilt crept in. If Dean had pulled this prank on you, it would’ve earned him at least a few hours of the silent treatment.
But you were too far in now. You had to see it through.
Or maybe just until he left for the gym.
While your boyfriend sulked in the bathroom, you pulled on a pair, and then headed downstairs, deciding to wash the plates and mugs. Tucker had cooked breakfast, after all. It was the least you could do.
A few minutes later, Dean came downstairs with damp hair and a pair of low-hanging sleep pants slung dangerously low on his hips.
This was undoubtedly payback for your antics.
You kept washing dishes when he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck.
“Done messing around?” He murmured against your ear, the deep timbre of his voice making a shiver run through you.
“I didn’t do anything.”
You turned your head to look at him, and his eyes immediately dropped from yours to your mouth. A second later, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.
You didn’t react right away.
Only once you turned back toward the sink did you bring up your driest hand and wipe the kiss away.
“There!” Dean grabbed your waist, spinning you around to glare at you. “You did it again!”
“What did she do again?” Logan asked as he strolled into the kitchen, eyes darting between the two of you.
“She’s wiping off my kisses!” Dean accused.
As if to prove his point, he grabbed your face with both hands and planted a firm kiss right on your mouth.
A second later, you leaned forward and rubbed your lips against his bare chest.
“Okay, didn’t need to see all that…” Logan muttered before setting his dirty mug on the counter and immediately leaving the kitchen again.
“Seriously, do I have some disease I don’t know about, or do you just not want me kissing you anymore?” He asked, his voice sounding more genuinely hurt this time.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You continued drying off the now clean plates.
“If you say so,” he mumbled with a sigh.
You watched as he leaned forward like he was about to kiss your cheek, only to stop himself at the last second.
That was your final straw. There was no way you were making it all the way until he left for the gym.
“Dean, wait.” You quickly set the towel and plate down on the counter.
“Hm?” He turned around, leaning against the wall separating the kitchen from the living room.
“Come here.”
“Why?” He huffed. “So you can disrespect my kisses again?”
“I’m sorry,” you said, walking over and grabbing his hands to pull him away from the wall.
“Go on,” Dean replied, though there was already a hint of smugness creeping into his tone.
“I saw a prank on TikTok,” you admitted. “I thought it’d be funny to try it on you.”
“I guess I forgive you.” He rolled his eyes, though you could already see the smile tugging at his lips. “But never do it again. I’ll have you know my kisses are a very hot commodity.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “Yeah, I think half of Briar knows that.”
“Just half?” He joked, though the grin quickly faltered at the murderous look you sent him.
“I’m about to do worse than wipe off your kisses,” you grumbled.
Dean let out a soft laugh before pulling you closer, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. It was so featherlight it almost tickled.
Then you slid a hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged him back in, kissing him hard enough to make him groan against your mouth.
His hand settled against your lower back before slowly trailing down until he gave your ass a firm squeeze.
You smirked against his lips, slowly lifting a hand toward your mouth again, but Dean immediately caught your wrist before you could do anything.
“Don’t you dare,” he growled, pinning both of your hands in one of his before kissing you again.
Then he lifted you into his arms, your legs instinctively locking around his waist as he carried you upstairs. After kicking his bedroom door shut behind him, he tossed you onto the bed before crawling over you, pressing hot kisses along your neck until his lips finally brushed against yours again.
And as he tugged your—technically his—shirt over your head, you couldn’t help but think smugly that if all pranks ended like this, you’d definitely be pulling a lot more of them in the future.
NOTE : hope you guys are enjoying the dean content because i sure am enjoying writing it! also, i need hannah’s version of ‘cherry pie’ and ‘the bitch is back’ on spotify ASAP.
summary: you’re done being dean di laurentis’ favourite secret. (1.9k)
pairing: dean di laurentis x reader
content: mild sexual references, language, mild gaslighting, angst, alcohol.
authors note: it’s finally nice to write something small outside of the pitt (even though i’m going straight back because i know where home is).
part two.
the sound from the speakers was vibrating right through the soles of your sneakers. it’s steady, rhythmic pounding matched the chaotic energy of the boys’ house.
it was a friday night after a massive home-game win, which meant the place was absolutely bursting at the seams.
the air was a thick, humid mix of cheap beer, expensive cologne, and the distinct scent of sweat and victory. in the living room, a makeshift beer-pong tournament was underway.
logan was standing on a coffee table, a red cup raised high in the air, loudly arguing the rules of "bitch cup" with a group of terrified-looking lacrosse players while a crowd of students cheered him on.
over by the crowded hallway couch, garrett graham had his arm draped loosely around hannah wells. his head was tilted back as he laughed at something she said, completely oblivious to the rest of the party around them.
they looked solid and steady. everything you wished you had.
instead, you leaned against the wall near the hallway, a lukewarm red solo cup dangling from your fingers, watching the kitchen.
next to you, your best friend suni nudged your shoulder with her elbow, taking a sip of her own drink.
"don't look now," she murmured, her eyes darting toward the island, "but your resident heartbreaker is putting on a clinic."
you didn't need to look because you already knew.
dean di laurentis was in peak form tonight. his hair was perfectly messy, the sleeves of his cardigan pushed up to his elbows to show off his toned forearms.
that ridiculously charming, dimpled smile was plastered on his face as he laughed with a group of sophomores.
he looked effortless.
he always looked effortless.
but tonight, it didn't make your stomach flutter. it just made it twist into a tight, painful knot.
because you knew exactly what happened would happen after the party ended.
for two months, you had lived in the quiet, intoxicating orbit of his bedroom.
you knew the exact weight of his body pressing you down into the mattress. the heat of his skin radiating against yours, and the heavy, breathless way he murmured your name into the hollow of your throat when the rest of the world faded away.
he possessed a devastating, patient kind of touch.
his hands that knew exactly how to trace your spine until you were helpless under him, lips that memorized yours like a language only the two of you spoke.
it was addictive, beautiful, and utterly consuming.
but it always happened behind closed doors, in the dark. it left you with the growing, heavy realization that while he was consuming your entire mind, you were just a recurring chapter in his very long, very public book.
your major required you to analyse empty rhetoric and spotting when someone was using smooth talking to hide a lack of substance.
you were literally being graded on your ability to see through an operator.
yet, every weekend, you walked right into this house and let dean do exactly that to you.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
just past dean's shoulder, you caught sight of john tucker standing by the fridge, a bottle of water in his hand.
tucker had become one of your closest friends since your freshman year despite the two you being complete opposites.
the second he noticed you looking, his face softened into an expression of quiet, heavy sympathy.
tucker had warned you. the moment he had noticed dean eyeing you at a different party a few months ago, he had pulled you aside in the hallway of this very house.
"he's a really good guy, i swear," tucker had told you gently, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice laced with a protective streak.
"but he's a rolling stone, alright? he doesn't stay in one place, and he's got half the campus on speed dial. just... watch your heart."
you had smiled, thanked him, and then gone ahead and fallen entirely under dean's spell anyway.
because when dean di laurentis turned his focus on you, it felt like the sun only shone in your direction.
until tonight.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
ten minutes ago, you had watched him flash that exact same dimpled smile at a blonde girl by the keg, his hand lingering just a second too long on her hip as he poured her a drink.
you were done.
entirely, completely done with his bullshit.
"i think i'm gonna head out," you told suni, setting your cup down on a nearby table.
suni followed your gaze to the kitchen, her expression instantly shifting from party-mode to fiercely protective. "do you want me to come with you? we can leave right now. we don't even have to say goodbye."
before you could answer, dean's eyes scanned the room, cutting through the haze of the party until they locked right onto yours.
his smile shifted.
it went from his public, generic "party host" grin to something sharper. simmering.
he excused himself from the group with a smooth nod and made a direct beeline through the crowded kitchen for you.
"go ahead," suni muttered, giving your hand a supportive squeeze.
"put him in his place. i'll be by the front door when you're ready." she gave dean a pointed, icy look as he approached, then melted into the crowd toward the foyer.
dean didn't just walk. he glided, carrying the casual confidence of a guy who assumed he was going to get exactly what he wanted by the end of the night.
across the room, tucker watched him go, letting out a small, worried sigh but staying back, letting you handle it.
"you're hiding in the corner," dean said, leaning his hand on the wall right above your head, effectively trapping you in his space.
the familiar, addictive scent of mint and woodsmoke washed over you, and it took everything in you not to lean into it.
"i don't like when my favorite person hides."
"i'm not hiding, di laurentis," you replied, your voice flat, refusing to let him see how much he was getting to you.
"and i'm pretty sure i'm not your favorite person. i think that title belongs to whatever woman stands closest to you."
dean let out a low, delighted laugh, his chest brushing slightly against your shoulder. he thought you were just playing hard to get.
he thought this was part of the game. "ouch. cold. and here i was, about to tell you that that color looks absolutely devastating on you." his voice dropped an octave, smooth as silk, his head tilting down so his lips were dangerously close to your ear, cutting out the blaring music.
"seriously. i've been waiting all night for everyone to leave so i can get you upstairs."
you didn't blush and you most definitely didn't smile.
you just raised an eyebrow.
it was textbook dean.
meaningless, sweet, and addictive words that he handed out like candy to you, to the girl by the keg, and to half the women on campus.
"wow. that was really good," you deadpanned, pushing your palm against his chest to create some distance between you. "did you practice that in the mirror, or do you just keep the same script for all of us?"
dean blinked, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his features before he recovered, his grin turning playful. "what's that supposed to mean?"
"it means it's all sweet, dean," you said, your voice dropping, sharp and laced with all the frustration you'd been bottling up for weeks.
"it tastes good in the moment, but there's nothing actually there. i spend forty hours a week studying empty campaigns, dean. i know when someone is just trying to win over a crowd. you have a lovely way with words, but i'm officially full. i'm not buying what you're selling anymore."
the playful, cocky smirk finally faltered on his face.
the casual warmth in those vivid blue eyes tightened into something tense and alert as he realized you weren't joking.
he grabbed your wrist, not tightly, but firmly, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.
"hey," he murmured, stepping closer, trying to shut out the rest of the noisy, crowded house. "where is this coming from? come upstairs with me. let's just talk."
"no, dean. that's the fucking problem," you said, pulling your wrist out of his grip.
"we don't talk. you just say exactly what you think i want to hear so you can keep me in your rotation. and i'm not doing it anymore. find someone else to fill your bed tonight."
turning on your heel, you started walking toward the front door where suni was waiting.
"wait—hold on" dean called after you, but you didn't stop. you pushed past the heavy front door, suni right at your flank, stepping out into the crisp, cool night air.
the relative quiet of the gravel driveway was a sharp shock to the system compared to the roaring house.
"suni, let's just get to the car," you muttered, picking up your pace.
before you could even reach the edge of the lawn, the heavy front door thudded open behind you.
"hey" dean's voice cut through the darkness, completely stripped of its usual smooth, unflappable charm.
you stopped, closing your eyes for a brief second to gather your strength, before turning around.
he jogged down the porch steps, the golden light from the house framing his silhouette. he stopped a few feet away, chest heaving slightly, his messy blonde hair tossed by the breeze.
for the first time since you'd known him, dean di laurentis looked entirely unsettled, his striking blue eyes wide and fiercely locked onto yours in the dim light of the driveway.
"what are you doing?" dean asked, his voice raw, gesturing back toward the house. "you're just going to walk out? because i smiled at someone at a party? it was nothing. you know how i am."
"yeah, dean. i do know how you are," you said, your voice terrifyingly calm, the cool wind whipping your hair across your face. "that's exactly why i'm leaving."
"come on," he stepped closer, reaching a hand out, his tone shifting back into that desperate, persuasive rhythm he used so well. "you know it's different with you. when it's just us... you know it means something."
you looked at his extended hand, then looked him dead in the eyes.
the spell was completely broken.
"no, it doesn't," you said, your voice steady, cutting through the night. "if it meant something, you wouldn't make me feel invisible the second the sun comes up. i know exactly what a bad deal looks like, dean. and i am officially withdrawing my terms."
dean froze, his hand dropping back to his side. the utter finality in your posture seemed to hit him like a physical blow.
he opened his mouth to speak—to throw out one last charming line, one last sweet promise—but for the first time in his life, the campus's greatest talker couldn't find a single word.
you didn't wait for him to try.
you just gave him a small, sad nod of closure, turned around, and climbed into the passenger seat of suni's honda civic.
as suni backed down the driveway and pulled onto the main road, you looked at your side mirror. dean hadn't moved an inch.
he was still standing under the dim glow of the driveway lights, looking smaller than he ever had, watching the tail lights of suni’s car disappear into the dark.
for two months, he had been the one calling the shots.
but as the house faded into the distance, you finally breathed a sigh of relief, knowing the game was over.
summary: when dean ends up in a fight on the ice, it leaves words to be said between you both.
request: yes/no
warnings: swearing
word count: 2.71k
authors note: this was kind of written as a second part to the offer however both pieces can be read as stand-alones. honestly i eat up every dean request espeically when we have a chance to make him a little jealous/protective
It had been weeks since the two of you started seeing each other.
Stolen kisses in the treatment room, sneaking you into the house late at night. As much fun as the two of you had been having, you were starting to grow tired of it.
But you had to keep it to yourself, not because you didn’t think you could share. But because you knew what Dean was like, and a long term ride wasn’t something that he wanted.
Not in the same ways that you did.
Dean laughed as he pulled you into his room, helping you jump over his desk, “took you damn long enough.” He mumbled into your mouth as the two of you fell onto his bed.
You scoffed as you rolled your eyes “if I was able to walk through your front door I wouldn’t have taken so long.” You shot back making the boy pinch your side.
It made you gasp, allowing him to kiss you “it’ll be easier next time.” He promised as he rolled on top of you.
He nipped at your neck “yeah cause this is the last time.”
It seemed to be a phrase that got used often between the two of you.
When your parents went to England for Thanksgiving, you ended up in New York with Dean “I promise they didn’t see you.” He threw his phone to the side as he looked at you “so come back over here.” Dean stood up so that he could kiss you.
You sighed as you dropped the bedsheet from around your body “what?” He asked as he kissed you.
Your lips were soft “this has to be the last time.” The blonde never argued with you because he knew how you felt.
Dean never argued with you, not because he didn’t think it was a fight worth making. But because you seemed to repeat this every few days yet lo and behold, you’d still end up right back in his room like nothing had happened, kissing his lips as you complained about what you were doing.
So Dean should have known something was wrong the second you stopped arguing with him.
Normally, when you said things like “this has to be the last time,” there was still warmth behind it.
There was still banter.
Still that look in your eyes that told him you didn’t mean it nearly as much as you were pretending to.
But tonight? No tonight you sounded tired.
And Dean hated it immediately “you say that every week,” he murmured against your neck, trying to pull you back into whatever this was before it became something heavier.
Something real.
You let him kiss you for a second longer before gently pushing at his chest “that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”
Dean leaned back slightly, blonde hair falling into his face as he looked down at you “we’re good right?” He gave you a look like if you went to tell him the truth, he would have let you open Pandora’s box like it was nothing.
Your eyes scanned his as you nodded “we’re fine.” That word nearly made you laugh.
Fine.
As if sneaking into his room after midnight and pretending not to care about each other outside of it counted as fine.
As if the way Dean looked at you when you walked into a room didn’t confuse the hell out of you.
As if you weren’t starting to want things you knew he’d never give you.
Like you were starting to want more than what he could give you.
You pushed your hair out of your face “you don’t get it,” you said quietly.
Dean’s expression shifted slightly at your tone “then explain it to me.” He sat up as you almost felt sick.
Because you almost did and that was the dangerous part.
Because Dean was looking at you in that soft way again, the one that made your chest ache.
The one that made you forget he’d never promised you anything.
Instead, you shook your head and slipped out from underneath him “I should go.” You announced as you reached for your shirt that had found its way onto his floor.
Dean sat up immediately “seriously?” He groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Yes.”
“It’s one in the morning.”
You looked out, knowing that it was going to start raining again soon “and?” You were more focused on getting back to your dorm so that you wouldn’t end up soaked.
Dean tugged at the ends of his hair “and you snuck through my damn window,” he said, watching you slide into your shoes “least you can do is stay.” He wanted to reach for you, to pull you into his grasp and keep you there all night.
You laughed softly despite yourself “you should get a good sleep before Saint A’s.” You knew the big game was the next day and you were using that as your excuse.
Dean grinned “you know I do better when I’ve had you the night before.” Dean clicked his tongue as he wanted to hold you.
You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your mouth ruined the effect.
Dean noticed instantly, “there she is,” he said quietly.
Your stomach tightened and that was the problem with him.
Dean always noticed everything.
When you skipped meals.
When you were stressed.
When your smiles were genuine versus when you forced them.
And now he was going to know what you were like before you pulled away, “I was serious about you getting some sleep,” you muttered instead.
Dean watched you carefully “you gonna come to the game tomorrow?”
You paused “kind of my job.” You reminded him as you raised your eyebrows.
His eyes softened slightly, reaching for your hand “still nice to hear you say it.” As his fingers grazed your palm, it hurt more than it should have.
Because he wasn’t yours, not in the way you needed him.
So you went home and hadn’t spoken to him since you left his. The game had already been aggressive before the second period even started.
Big hits.
Shoving matches.
Everything you expected from this game as you were expecting a long night to clean up the bruises and cuts that were bound to come.
A near fight in the first that Garrett had dragged Dean away from by the back of his jersey while Tucker laughed himself sick on the bench.
Your eyes never left the ice. They never left Dean.
Forcing a comforting smile on your face whenever he looked at you, on the off chance that you could calm him down.
Because he moved differently when he was pissed off.
Sharper.
More reckless.
You noticed it immediately when he slammed another player into the boards hard enough to make the crowd erupt. It was the comeback that you guys were desperate for.
The other player shoved him back when Dean smiled as if he was eating it all up.
That was never a good sign “oh god,” Garrett muttered from beside the bench. Unsure almost if he should jump in to say something.
The opposing player said something.
You didn’t hear it, but Dean did. And whatever it was made his entire posture change instantly.
Not annoyed.
Not cocky.
Furious.
Before anyone could react properly, Dean dropped his gloves.
The crowd roared knowing that one of the roughest teams in the conference was now getting a taste of their own medicine “Dean!” Coach Jensen yelled as it fell on deaf ears.
Too late.
He launched himself at the guy so fast the refs barely had time to react before both of them hit the ice, throwing punches.
You felt your stomach drop immediately.
Because Dean didn’t fight like this normally.
Things didn’t feel like it was personal usually, but now they crossed that boundary.
There was no grin on Dean’s face.
No chirping and nothing playful about it.
Just anger, pure anger “holy shit,” Tucker breathed as he sat in front of you.
The other player managed to get a punch across Dean’s cheekbone before Dean shoved him back onto the ice hard enough for the refs to finally drag them apart.
Blood streaked down Dean’s mouth and he still looked ready to kill him “you wanna say it again?” Dean snapped while Logan held him back.
The other guy laughed through a split lip “what? About your little girlfriend?” Your heart stopped when the older player’s eyes landed on you.
Garrett’s head whipped toward you instantly “oh,” Tucker said slowly.
Everything clicked into place at once.
The fight.
Dean losing control.
The fact that the player was now smirking directly toward your side of the rink.
Dean nearly broke free from the refs trying to get back to him “Dean!” Garrett barked, watching him skate towards the locker room as he was now ejected.
The blonde finally looked away, chest heaving. And then his eyes found you immediately.
Like he was checking if you’d heard it too. As if he wanted to protect you from something, you had a front row seat to watch.
Once he got his concussion clearance, you were left cleaning up his cuts as Coach Jensen wanted to talk to him after you cleared him “you are such an idiot.” Dean sat on the treatment table while you cleaned blood from the cut above his eyebrow.
He winced slightly “easy.” As he tried to pull away.
You rolled your eyes as you were annoyed “you started a fight during a conference game.” You reminded him how stupid this was.
Dean shrugged as he leaned against the wall behind him “he deserved it.” His words almost set you off.
You let your fingers grip his chin, “you got punched in the face.” Many many times he had been hit.
“Worth it.” Dean looked entirely unbothered despite the bruise forming across his jaw, “You should’ve heard what he said.”
You mentally cringed as you thought back to what he said “I know what he said.” You were also annoyed that Dean didn’t think that you could handle it yourself.
Dean’s eyes scanned yours “then you know why I hit him.” He shrugged as he knew he’d do it again if he needed to.
You sighed sharply and reached for more gauze.
The room had gone quieter after the game ended. Most of the team had already filtered out, leaving just muffled voices somewhere down the hallway.
Dean watched you move around him carefully “you’re mad,” he said finally.
You laughed once, short and humourless, “no, Dean,” you said softly “I’m tired.”
That got his attention immediately.
His expression changed.
The cockiness faded slightly as if a penny dropped in his brain “what’s that supposed to mean?” He sucked at his teeth.
You tossed the bloody gauze into the bin harder than necessary “it means I can’t keep doing this thing where it just stays in this state of limbo.” You blurted the words out as you shook your head.
Dean frowned, “what?” He asked as pulled back, almost as if you were going to burn him if he got too close.
You puffed out your cheeks “you fought someone over me tonight.” You hated how you felt this level of possession when he did that for you.
“Yeah,” he said immediately “because he talked about you like you were some-”
You groaned “that’s not the point.” You pointed your finger at him.
You finally looked at him properly “then what is?” His split lip caught your attention when he spoke.
The bruise was already forming and the way he looked genuinely confused right now, “you can’t act like this and then pretend we’re just hooking up.” You were scared that Dean had feelings.
Because he wasn’t meant to, that wasn’t what he was known for.
Dean stared at you “you think that’s what this is to me?” You swallowed slightly “isn’t it?” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked honestly offended.
He looked hurt “seriously?” Dean chewed at the inside of his cheek.
“You never want to talk about us.”
He shook his head as he was genuinely feeling frustrated now, “because every time we do,” he said, sliding off the treatment table, “you tell me it’s the last time.” Your breath caught slightly.
Dean pulled you closer.
Not teasing now.
The room felt hot “You sneak out before breakfast,” he continued “you act like I’m gonna wake up one day and decide you’re inconvenient.” His final sentence made you feel sick.
“That’s not-”
Dean cut you off “you think I fought a guy because I casually hook up with you?” It seemed like the world stopped in that moment.
His voice wasn’t loud, which somehow made it worse “I fought him because he talked about you like you didn’t matter.” Dean looked down at you for a second before shaking his head slightly.
“You really don’t get it.”
You stopped as if you had all the time in the world “then tell me.” You bit the inside of your cheek.
He pulled you closer.
Close enough that your hands instinctively grabbed lightly at the strings of his shorts “I’m trying to,” he said quietly.
And suddenly you realised something horrifying.
Dean looked nervous.
The Dean Di Laurentis was nervous “you drive me insane,” he admitted “I mean you’re in my room every night.” He almost let out a laugh.
Dean didn’t stop there “half my hoodies are in your dorm. Garrett calls you my girlfriend already cause apparently, I talk about you too much.”
You blinked at his confession “you talk about me?” Felt your heart throb as your throat constricted.
Dean gave you a flat look “constantly.” His voice was soft and honest.
His shoulders felt lighter when he got it off of his chest “that’s embarrassing.” Your words made him roll his eyes.
He shook his head as he puffed his chest out “you’re embarrassing.” Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you at his rebuttal.
Dean’s expression softened immediately at the sound “there she is,” he murmured again.
Your eyes dropped briefly to his split lip “still think getting punched was worth it?” Dean’s hands slid carefully onto your waist.
He nodded “yeah,” he said quietly, “But you being upset with me kinda sucks.”
You frowned “I wasn’t upset with you.” That was the truth; you were mad at the situation above all else.
“You like me reckless.”
You knew he wasn’t wrong, you loved the way he would pull you into the supply closet at the stadium without thinking twice, “you were stupid tonight.” You sighed as you knew he was going to look like he had been on the wrong side of a fight with Tyson Fury in the morning.
Dean smiled slightly, “you gonna kiss it better or keep yelling at me?” His hands rested on his sides as he bit his lip.
If he wasn’t shirtless looking at you like that, you swore you should have hit him “you are unbelievable.” Your fingers ran over his bruising cheek.
Dean smirked, seeing your strength starting to waver again “and you’re still here.” There it was again.
That stupid sentence that always undid you.
You shook your head softly before finally leaning forward and kissing him.
Carefully this time, almost mindful of the cut on his lip.
Dean melted into it immediately anyway, one hand sliding up your back as he pulled you closer between his legs “I think Garrett owes me fifty bucks now.” He murmured against your mouth.
You blinked “why?” You put the wipes back on your tray.
Dean grinned lazily despite the bruise on his face “he bet you’d be the one to freak out about feelings first.” Your jaw dropped as your eyes went wide.
“I don’t know if I should be offended about that or the fact that I was discussed like a conference pool?”
He shook his head “correction,” Dean said smugly as he pointed between the two of you “they discussed us.”
You shoved lightly at his shoulder, and he laughed.
Then immediately hissed in pain from the movement.
You pointed at him, “good suffer.” Dean just pulled you back in anyway as he pressed a kiss against your cheek.
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A/n: HELLO!! New SMAU?? Yes. I’m not sure if I’ll actually do it, but I wanted to post an intro. More characters will be introduced throughout the series (?)!
Summary: After moving to Japan, you struggle to find an agency to work with. Thankfully, you make a friend out of Ochako Uraraka early into settling in. Now, with the opportunity to work as a sidekick for Dynamight, you face one major issue.
Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, all characters are from the timeskip!
PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Fem Reader
SUMMARY: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the King’s Guard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention.
CONTENT: mulan elements, fantasy AU, hidden gender/secret identity, romance, aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut, afab fem reader, 18+, spin off of in cinders
LENGTH: 28k, STATUS: complete
CHAPTERS
one
two
three
four
five
six
seven
eight
nine
ten
READ ON AO3
DELETED SCENES (requests for short drabbles related to the fic)
What was chapter 5 like from Bakugou’s point of view?
What is domestic life like for them after the fic?
Did they get married? What did Bakugou’s family think?
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For context: this came out in 2011 in Australia. Same-sex marriage would not be legalized until December 2017.
It was only legalized in 8 US states (the 8th only a few months before), and wouldn’t be legalized nation-wide until 2015.
It was only legal in TEN COUNTRIES in 2011. We wouldn’t hit 20 countries until 2017. (Australia was 23rd)
As of today (April 14, 2026), I believe only 38 countries have fully legalized same-sex marriage. Out of somewhere around 200 countries in the world. That’s only ~19% of countries.
A/n: I can’t get this stupid man out of my head, so hopefully writing this down will give me peace. I haven't written in a while and have only one smut post to my name. Please be kind. ALSO, I'd love to discuss the movie and Adam more. Feel free to drop in my inbox just to chat!
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PUHLEASE!!!
When it comes to sex with Adam, he’s not pushy.
The first time you guys did it, he had a length discussion about boundaries and expectations. This man loves communication.
He actually enjoys foreplay, which includes ones that have you pinned down beneath him.
To start, blowjobs are the best way to hear him sing.
His tip is especially sensitive, so sucking on it will get the most rewarding reaction aside from finishing.
Expect a lot of phrases such as “oh, shit” and “baby, please”. He loves to beg, even though he never has to.
He whimpers more than he moans. But that doesn’t mean he holds back. If he can, he’ll make himself loud.
Praise is his favorite thing to receive and give. He absolutely enjoys telling you how well you’re doing and how nice you look sucking his dick.
Sex is a whole other thing, though. For Adam, it's a way for him to express his love.
He takes his time entering you. He'll often rut against you for a few seconds just to tease you both.
When he's finally inside you, he'll gasp every time like it's the best thing he's felt since... well, the last time you fucked.
During sex, you have most of the power. He's happy to do most of the work if it means he can stare (admire) you.
If you decide to take over, he'll focus on how tight you feel around him. He'll take it as a sign to relax and let you dominate. Unless he's in the mood to work out his emotions.
Once again, he's praising you like a goddess sent from above.
EX: "You're so gorgeous like this." "How did I get so lucky to have you?" "You're so perfect for me." "You feel so good"
Sometimes, he'll get bold and hold your waist in place while he bucks up into you. His pace in this position is usually brutal, but not painful.
When he close, you'll know. His voice will increase by a pitch, and his grip will be impossible to escape.
He's absolutely heavenly when he comes. His head flies back, and his muscles tense.
When he's done, he'll pull you close for a minute. To feel you against him is all the security he needs.
After a while, he'll grab a towel (he specifically bought for you) and gently wipe you off.
Then, he'll escort you to the bathroom because a UTI is not something he'd want you to suffer through.
During that time, he'll grab snacks or water for you.
The rest of the time will be spent close to each other. Whether it's cuddling at night or watching a show together. He doesn't care. He just wants you near.
Extra:
If you ask, he'll excitedly talk you through anything. Whether it's a blowjob, handjob, or sex. He's all about communication.
If you edge him, he'll eventually take things into his own hands. He's a patient man, but he's not a pushover when it comes to you (Everyone else, maybe).
He LOVES eye contact. Anytime he can stare into your eyes, he will.
He's not a munch, but if you ask he won't hesitate to go down.
Being silly in bed is such a turn-on for him. It makes him feel comfortable, and he'll happily turn the whole thing into a giggle-fest.
He does NOT like hair-pulling. He has a sensitive scalp. However, running your hands through his hair is a definite yes.
If he sees you wearing one of those glorious gowns that royals wear, expect him to be hard in seconds.
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❥ IN WHICH, Katsuki ends things with Y/N, believing his love is a dangerous liability. He tries to walk away in the rain, but a final, tender act of care reveals he's still deeply in love, even as he leaves.
Katsuki made the hard choice while he still had the chance. His gaze gave him away before the words even left his mouth—cutting ties was a bitter necessity to spare them both from worse pain.
In his line of work, love was a liability he couldn't afford to have for Y/N. He was never meant for romance, yet he’d let her become his greatest weakness.
He put an end to whatever they had. He couldn't call it a breakup when they had never truly begun. They were dangerously close, and he refused to let the distraction pull them under.
She called after him, but he just kept walking, preferring the cold rain over the comfort of the jacket and umbrella she was trying to return. He tuned her out, head low and hands shoved deep in his pockets, certain this was the only way.
"You damn coward!" He refused to turn back, unable to face the heartbreak in her eyes while her voice alone was already shattering him.
He accepted her insults in silence, hands clenched in his pockets, because looking at her meant seeing the pain he caused—and that was a blow he couldn't survive.
Suddenly, a small object bounced off his back, thrown just hard enough to make him stop. While the hit was soft, the message was clear—she was hurt and she wasn't letting him walk away in silence.
It certainly worked, but the reaction she got wasn't the one she was looking for.
His face stayed blank as he turned to find the source of the impact—her high heel, abandoned on the wet concrete.
Between the freezing rain and the drainage of her tears, her face was stained a heavy, frustrated pink. She expected him to simply forget her—to leave her in the rain along with every memory they shared.
Instead, he reached down for the stray heel and walked back to her, silently dropping to one knee at her feet.
It only made the ache in her chest worse. He gently took her ankle, lifting her bare foot and using his palm to brush away the grit and rainwater before carefully sliding the heel back into place.
She wished he’d finished the job—left her behind completely instead of coming back to offer a kind gesture she didn’t want to feel.
This final act of care was the last thing she wanted, a warmth that felt like a betrayal in the middle of their collapse.
As he stood, his gaze finally met hers—soft with a vulnerability that begged to stay and hold her, even as he began to step back.
"Get home safe." He whispered, turning back to the rain as if he hadn't just shattered her. She couldn't move; she couldn't even find the breath to answer him.
Y/N stood paralyzed, the words dying in her throat as she watched him go.
She hated him for it. She hated how he could break her heart and then try to protect it, all in one. The contradiction of him stung more than the cold heavy rain.
Katsuki was too stubborn to realize that she would have stayed through anything. She didn't want the hero—she just wanted him.
He walked away because it was easier to run than to handle the weight of what he felt for her. It was his usual tactic; running the moment he felt overwhelmed, as if he could outpace his feelings for her if he just moved fast enough.
Ultimately, he was terrified of admitting it—that he was already stubbornly deep in love with her.
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