especially-obsessed

[especially-obsessed]

Forever thinking about how Dean stabbed and shot Cas when they first met, meaning he knows FULL WELL that it doesn't hurt Cas in the slightest, but he still has to always protect Cas from guns that can't hurt him

Meanwhile Cas:

[especially-obsessed]

Coming soon: Short and Sweet

Omg hey! So I finally wrote something after months of being dormant (my bad!) and I just had this line scribbled out and sobbed at what I had done. So I’m sharing it with you guys and setting up the taglist rn!

“Jeremy doesn’t say anything about the haircut at first. He just runs his fingers through the short strands the next time he hugs you, his palm lingering. “Looks good,” he says quietly, but his eyes are heavy.”

This one is gonna cut deep guys.

Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765 @bdawg4life101 @blxckwidxxw

[especially-obsessed]

Heyyy

I literally read all of your jeremy fics. And U am obsessed they are so good.

I swear there is such a fic shortage out there with him and U don’t get why.

But I love your fics and I didn’t know if the requests were open so if not just ignore this but if they are I wanted to maybe request some general hcs for dating jeremy. Thank you >>

Thanks lovely <3 I love this idea! Keep an eye out for something like this in the future (;

[especially-obsessed]

Far Behind

Summary: Jacob doesn’t know what’s right in front of him

Pairing: Jacob Black x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, jealousy, depictions of depression, fluff, Jacob being a dummy

Word count: 2.8k

a/n: ik no one asked for this but I did it anyways (; I also have no mechanical knowledge and used what I’ve heard from friends talking about their vehicles

Masterlist | Jacob's Playlist

You wiped the grease from your hands on your worn-out jeans, smudging dark streaks across your thighs. The sound of Jacob’s laughter rumbled through the garage as he leaned over the truck’s engine, flashing you that lopsided grin that made your heart stumble.

“This thing’s a piece of junk,” you muttered, pulling at a stubborn bolt.

Jake just chuckled, handing you a wrench without missing a beat. “Maybe, but it’s my junk. You’re just mad it’s fighting you.”

You smirked, elbowing him playfully. “You gonna help, or just stand there looking pretty?”

He shot you a look, eyes warm and teasing. “Both.”

That was Jacob: a blend of strength and softness, always knowing how to make you smile. You’d been by his side for as long as you could remember, practically raised in the warmth of his family’s garage. Fixing cars, wrestling in the backyard, teasing Embry until he tackled you into the mud. You were always just one of the guys.

But then Bella came back.

It had been one of those rare, good days. You were hanging out at Jacob’s place, helping him and Embry piece together a custom surfboard rack that Jacob insisted would make the garage look “less like a junkyard.” Quil was sprawled out on the old couch, tossing a wrench into the air and catching it lazily. The garage was filled with the familiar smell of sawdust and oil, and mixed perfectly with the occasional burst of laughter whenever Quil dropped the tool or Embry accidentally smashed his thumb.

Jacob was on his knees beside a pile of driftwood, measuring pieces and sketching out plans on a scrap of paper. You couldn’t help but grin when he frowned at the diagram, chewing on the end of his pencil like it had personally offended him.

“Pretty sure that’s not how math works, genius,” you teased, nudging his shoulder with your own.

He shot you a playful glare, shoving your hand away. “You’re just mad you didn’t come up with the idea first.”

Quil snorted from the couch. “Dude, it’s a surfboard rack, not the Eiffel Tower.”

“Yeah, but it’s gotta be sturdy,” Jacob argued, holding up one of the larger pieces of wood. “These boards aren’t light.”

You took the plank from his hands, pretending to weigh it dramatically. “Oh no, the mighty surfboard! Whatever shall we do?”

Jacob rolled his eyes, but his smile never faltered. He was about to fire back with some smart remark when the distant rumble of an engine made everyone pause. You glanced over your shoulder, recognizing the sound of an old truck pulling up.

Embry squinted, tilting his head. “Is that…?”

Before anyone could answer, Jacob straightened up, eyes wide and alert as the old red Chevy came into view. His entire demeanor changed, like someone had flipped a switch. He dropped the wood without a second thought and was already moving, practically sprinting out of the garage.

You turned to look just in time to see him skid to a stop in front of the truck as Bella hopped out, looking a little unsure. Jacob didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her around the waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her like she was weightless.

“Bella! Where the hell have you been, Loca?” he laughed, voice full of warmth and relief.

Your stomach dropped. The way he looked at her—so effortlessly happy—made your chest ache. You couldn’t take your eyes off them, even though every second felt like a knife twisting deeper.

Quil cleared his throat behind you, clearly caught off guard. “Damn… lhe didn’t even say bye,” he muttered, tossing the wrench back into the toolbox.

Embry shot you a look, catching the way your shoulders had tensed. “Guess he’s got his hands full,” he murmured, trying to sound nonchalant but failing.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a weak smile. “Yeah. Guess so.”

It shouldn’t have hurt this much. You’d seen Jacob happy before; seen him tease you with that same bright grin. But it was different when it wasn’t directed at you. You hadn’t realized how much you depended on being the reason behind that smile.

Jacob kept talking to Bella, his hands lingering on her shoulders, his smile never faltering. You didn’t even hear what they were saying anymore, your heartbeat thundering in your ears.

Quil nudged your arm lightly. “You good?”

You couldn’t look at him. “Yeah,” you mumbled. “Just… didn’t know she was coming by.”

Embry muttered something about needing to find another part, slipping outside to give you some space. Quil stayed put, shifting uncomfortably, clearly unsure of what to do.

Jacob didn’t even glance back at the garage, too busy catching up with Bella, his smile brighter than it had been in days. You couldn’t help but feel like you were watching something slip right through your fingers, and no matter how hard you tried to hold on, it was already gone.

Quil moved towards you and placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly. “He’s just…caught up, you know?”

You forced a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Yeah. I know.”

You just wished it didn’t hurt so damn much

Quil nudged your arm lightly, his voice softer than usual. “You good?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, afraid your face might give you away. “Yeah,” you mumbled.

Embry leaned in on the back doorway and huffed out a breath, glancing at the scene unfolding just outside. “Man, I didn’t think he’d ditch us that fast.”

You forced a weak laugh, trying to keep your voice steady. “Neither did I.”

The atmosphere in the garage felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in, and the air had gotten too heavy to breathe. You wiped your hands on a rag, even though they were already clean (or as clean as they could be without washing them), trying to keep busy.

Quil glanced between you and the open garage door, his face twisted in mild discomfort. “Maybe we should just…head out. Give him space or…whatever.”

Embry nodded in agreement, not needing to be told twice. “Yeah. I could use some food anyway.” He shot you a careful look, like he was trying to gauge whether you’d follow or not.

You swallowed the tight knot forming in your throat and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The three of you moved quietly, slipping out the back of the garage so you wouldn’t have to walk past Jacob and Bella. The cool air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you shivered. Embry and Quil were already chatting, trying to lighten the mood with some joke about the last bonfire. Instead of walking with them to the left, you turned right.

Once you were alone, the tightness in your chest only got worse. You pressed your palm against your ribs, as if you could physically hold yourself together. Your throat felt raw, and you didn’t understand why the urge to cry was suddenly so overwhelming.

You hated how pathetic it felt to want to cry over something that shouldn’t matter this much. You stopped to lean against a tree, closing your eyes and forcing yourself to breathe slowly. You couldn’t cry over this. You had no right to cry over Jacob being happy, even if it wasn’t with you.

But no matter how hard you tried, the ache in your chest refused to go away. You wiped at your eyes before any tears could fall, pulling yourself together.

Taking a shaky breath, you shoved your hands into your pockets and kept walking.

In the weeks that followed, you tried not to let it bother you. Bella had been his friend long before you even knew what love felt like. But things were different now. Bella wasn’t just a friend to Jacob; she was a magnet, and he was drawn to her without a second thought.

Jacob had always been like a brother to you. That’s what you told yourself, at least. That’s what you’d always thought. But when he wasn’t there anymore—spending all his time with her—you started to realize just how much of your world he really was.

You hadn’t noticed how much you relied on him, how the little moments—his hand squeezing your shoulder, his laughter bouncing around the garage, his fingers brushing yours as he handed you a wrench—had made your day lighter. Without him, everything felt heavier. Darker. You tried to shake it off, but it stuck to you like damp clothes, dragging you down.

The boys noticed too. Embry would invite you out, and sometimes you’d force yourself to go, but it didn’t feel the same. Quil would try to crack a joke, and you’d laugh, but it was hollow. You found yourself spending more time alone, wandering the beach or hiding in the garage, hoping the familiar grease and metal smell would remind you of the old days.

But it didn’t. It couldn’t.

You hadn’t meant to fall into this quiet sadness, but it happened so gradually you didn’t notice it at first. The long nights where you couldn’t sleep, staring at your phone and willing Jacob to text like he used to. The days where you didn’t bother to eat lunch because your appetite had faded. Your energy drained out of you like a leaky faucet, slowly and then all at once.

You didn’t tell anyone. You couldn’t. How could you explain that you missed your best friend so much it hurt to breathe sometimes? Or that every time you saw him with Bella, your heart clenched like it was being squeezed too tight?

One afternoon, the boys invited you out to La Push. You hesitated at first but agreed. Maybe Jacob would be there. You threw on your wetsuit, packed your board, and tried to muster some excitement. Some energy. Maybe this would be the day things went back to normal. Hopefully.

But when you got there, it was just Quil, Embry, and a few others from your social circle. You looked around, searching for that familiar tall frame, but he wasn’t there.

“Hey, where’s Jake?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

Quil shrugged. “Said he might meet us here. Guess he got caught up.”

Your stomach sank, but you didn’t say anything. You followed the boys into the water, paddling out, but it was hard to enjoy it. Your mind kept drifting back, wondering if he even remembered that he said he might come. You couldn’t help but feel stupid for hoping.

After about an hour, you gave up and dragged your board onto the sand, sitting alone while the guys kept surfing. The usual noise of waves crashing and the boys yelling didn’t drown out the ache building in your chest.

You were poking at the sand with a stick when Embry came up beside you, water dripping off his hair as he flopped down. He nudged your shoulder with his own, a small smirk on his lips.

“Why the long face, grease monkey?” he teased, though his tone was softer than usual.

You shrugged, kicking a shell with your toe. “It’s nothing.”

Embry scoffed, brushing some sand off his arms. “I call bull. You’ve been moping around since Bella came back. Thought you “didn’t care”.” He said, using finger quotes dramatically.

Your stomach twisted, and you glared at the horizon, feeling the cool sea mist sting your cheeks. “I don’t care. Just…sucks when your best friend drops you for someone else, you know?”

He sighed, giving you a side-eye. “We all see it, you know. You and Jake. Everyone knows you’re crazy about him. Except maybe him.”

Your cheeks burned, and you shot him a look. “Shut up.”

He just laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “He’s crazy about you too.” He paused for a moment, then added, “If I were you, I’d stop waiting around. You’re too good to be his backup plan.”

You didn’t say anything, just leaned into Embry’s side, wishing his words didn’t hit so hard. The ocean waves crashed in the background, but the rhythm didn’t soothe you like it used to. Instead, it just felt like a reminder that everything kept moving, whether you were ready or not.

Embry squeezed your shoulder gently, his voice more serious than usual. “He’s dumb, you know. If I were him, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”

You gave him a weak smile, not really believing it. “You’re just saying that because you hate seeing me mope.” You give a weak smile and lean into his side.

He just shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s true. You’re too good for him, even if he doesn’t see it.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just let the words hang in the salty air. The ache in your chest doesn’t ease, but it felt a little less suffocating with Embry beside you

You were lying flat on your back on the old car creeper, half-buried under the truck as you tinkered with the stubborn exhaust pipe. You heard the familiar heavy footsteps approaching but didn’t bother to look. You already knew who it was.

“Hey,” Jacob’s voice called, tentative and soft.

You kept working, your movements more forceful than necessary. He shifted his weight, his shadow blocking some of the dim light. “Where you been?” you muttered, trying to sound indifferent.

“Around. With Bella.”

Your jaw clenched, but you stayed focused on the truck. “Hope you’re having fun.”

Jacob let out a frustrated breath. Before you knew it, his hands grabbed the edge of the creeper, yanking you out from under the truck. You yelped, hands automatically bracing against his chest.

“What the hell, Jacob?” you snapped, but he just loomed over you, eyes narrowed.

“No more hiding,” he muttered, kneeling down and keeping a firm grip on the creeper’s edge so you couldn’t slide back under. “What’s going on with you? Where have you been lately?”

You huffed and wiped a smudge of grease off your cheek. The audacity of him to ask where you had been, as if he hadn’t ditched the last dozen things you or the guys invited him to. “Nothing,” you bite out. “Just didn’t think you’d notice I wasn’t around.”

His brows drew together, guilt flashing across his face. “Why would you think that?”

You glanced away. “You’ve been busy.”

Jacob sighed, his voice softer now. “I guess I didn’t think it was bothering you this much.”

Just say it you coward.

Your eyes stayed fixed on the garage ceiling, unable to look him in the eyes as you mutter, “feels like I’m just one of the guys to you.”

Panicking, you didn’t give him a chance to respond. You shoved at his arms and got up, brushing past him as you tried to keep your voice steady. “Forget it. I’m done feeling like I don’t matter to you.”

Jacob’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist and spinning you back around. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, his voice rougher than before.

You glared at him, yanking your hand free. “It means I’m done playing second to her. I’m done being the one you come to only when she’s not around. I’m not your backup plan, Jake!”

His jaw clenched, his eyes flashing with something between anger and hurt. “You’re not a backup. Why would you think that?”

“Because that’s how you make me feel!” you shot back, your voice cracking. “Like I’m just one of the guys,” you say in a mocking voice. “Just a friend you used to hang out with before she showed up and took you away!”

Jacob took a step closer, and you didn’t back down, even though your heart was pounding. “You know that’s not true,” he argued, voice dropping lower.

“Then what is it, Jake?” you challenged, shoving at his chest. “Why do I feel like I’m not important to you anymore? Why does it feel like I’m the only one who cares? You show more interest in those damned bikes than you do-”

His hands moved faster than you expected, cupping your face and pulling you in before you could process it. His lips crashed into yours, fierce and desperate, like he was trying to prove something with the way his mouth moved against yours. You froze, hands instinctively going to his wrists, but then the anger melted, replaced by heat spreading through your veins. You kissed him back, your fingers digging into his skin.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged. “You’re not just one of the guys,” he whispered, his voice softer, rawer. “You’re everything. You always have been. I just—I didn’t know how to say it.”

Your hands slowly moved up to his jaw, your heart still racing. You bottom lip trembled as you spoke: “then why did you leave me?”

His thumbs brushed your cheeks, wiping away a stray tear. “Because I didn’t think I deserved you. And when Bella came back, I thought…I thought maybe it was better to just let you go before I screwed it up.”

You couldn’t help the weak laugh that bubbled out, more relief than humor. “You’re such an idiot.”

He smiled, pressing another soft kiss to your lips.

You couldn’t help but smile back. A weight lifted from your chest, no longer suffocating you. Jacob came back.

Jacob.

Your Jacob.

Masterlist

a/n: I just binge watched the series and now feel like I need to reread the series <3

Taglist:

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist < 3

[especially-obsessed]

Hard

Summary: smoking with Jeremy takes a turn <3

Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, weed use, sleep grinding, sexual tension, reader soaking wet from a few lazy ruts, playful biting <3

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Jeremy's Playlist

The two of you were gone.

Not in a dangerous way, just in the way that made everything hilarious for no reason. The TV flickered in front of you, playing some dumb reality show you had started watching ironically but were now deeply invested in. Jeremy was half-sitting, half-sprawled on the bed beside you, a bag of chips balanced precariously on his chest.

“This guy,” you snorted, pointing at the screen, “is the worst liar I’ve ever seen. Look at his face. He’s guilty as hell.”

Jeremy squinted, chewing lazily on a chip. “Nah. He’s just stupid. That’s not guilt, it’s pure, unfiltered dumbassery.”

You gasped dramatically, turning to him. “Dumbassery isn’t a word.”

“Yeah, it is.” He grinned, eyes glassy but playful. “It’s, like, the study of dumbasses. The scientific term.”

You let out a wheezing laugh, shoving at his arm. “Oh my God, shut up.”

He didn’t shut up. If anything, he leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was telling you a secret. “No, but really, if you think about it, I could totally get it added to the dictionary. I’d just have to prove it's a real word by using it enough.”

“Oh, sure. Go ahead and start a petition. ‘Jeremy Gilbert, founder of Dumbassery Studies.’”

Jeremy’s grin widened. “Professor Gilbert, actually.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile lingered, warmth curling in your chest. You didn’t even realize how close you’d gotten until you turned back toward the TV and your shoulder brushed his. Neither of you moved away.

Instead, the teasing continued. Jeremy stole the last chip out of your hand, and you dramatically declared war. He tickled your side in retaliation, and you nearly choked laughing, swatting him away. Then came the absolutely critical debate on whether or not aliens existed, which spiraled into the logistics of living on Mars and somehow ended with Jeremy proclaiming he would be a “space cowboy” if given the opportunity.

“You would be the worst space cowboy ever,” you said between giggles, wiping a tear from your eye.

Jeremy gasped, hand over his heart in mock offense. “Excuse you? I’d be amazing. Riding space horses, lassoing asteroids. I’d be legendary.”

You snorted. “Name one time you’ve even successfully ridden a regular horse.”

A pause.

“That’s not important,” he declared, flopping dramatically against you with a heavy sigh. “You have no vision.”

His weight pressed into you, warm and solid, and your laughter was muffled against his shoulder. “God, you’re such a dumbass.”

“Professor of Dumbassery Studies, actually,” he mumbled sleepily.

Somewhere between the giggling and the ridiculous arguments, the exhaustion settled in. The warmth of the high mixed with the comfort of the moment, pulling you both under. The TV played on, long forgotten as the heavy haze of sleep crept in.

Jeremy was behind you now, his body pressed along yours in a way that had started casual, comfortable, even. Just two very stoned idiots too lazy to move apart. You mumbled something about stealing the blanket, and he grumbled something back, his voice softer now, drowsier. You hadn’t questioned it at the time, just letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back.

But then, he moves.

At first, it was nothing. Just the slow, even rhythm of his breathing against your back. The weight of an arm slung somewhere near your waist, not quite holding you, but close enough that you could feel the heat of him through your shirt.

And then, in the haze of half-sleep, it happens.

The slow, unconscious roll of his hips.

You freeze.

Maybe, maybe, you imagined it. But then it happens again. The heavy drag of his body against yours, slow and unhurried, like his subconscious is guiding him.

Oh.

A flicker of heat curls low in your stomach, unwanted but undeniable. You tell yourself it’s just a coincidence, a random movement in sleep, but then you feel it, him.

Hard.

The thick, aching press of him against the curve of your ass, straining through the thin layers of clothes separating you.

Your breath stutters, sharp and shaky.

It’s nothing. It’s just accidental.

But then he moves again, slower this time, and you swear you feel him throb against you. A deep, dragging grind that leaves him pressed so perfectly against your body, heat bleeding into you like a brand. His hips roll in a lazy rhythm, mindless but desperate, and every inch of him feels hot, heavy, and needy against you.

Your hands clutch the blanket tighter. Your thighs instinctively squeeze together, the friction sending a rush of heat straight to your core. Your body shivers slightly beneath the weight of him, every muscle locked tight, begging you to either move or melt.

God, it’s too much. Too easy to give in. Too easy to imagine what it would feel like if he weren’t half-asleep if he were awake and pinning you down properly, grinding into you with that same lazy, overwhelming need.

Another soft, helpless whimper escapes before you can stop it, the sound barely audible but earth-shattering in the thick silence of the room.

And that is what does it.

Jeremy stills.

The shift is immediate.

You can feel it, the way his whole body tenses, muscles locking up, breathing shifting from deep and steady to something uneven and ragged. The unmistakable twitch of him against you, the way he holds himself too still like he is painfully aware now of what he’s doing, and what he wants to keep doing.

A long, thick silence stretches between you.

Then, his forehead drops against your shoulder, and you hear it.

A low, choked-off laugh, rough and wrecked.

He grins against your skin, slow and lazy, way too pleased with himself.

"Wait," his voice is a rough scrape in the darkness. "Was I just?"

You don't answer. You can't answer. Your whole body is molten, strung so tight it feels like you'll snap if he so much as breathes wrong.

Jeremy shifts slightly, nudging his hips forward again, deliberate this time, and you feel all of him against you, hard and aching like he's daring you to pretend you didn’t notice.

His voice drops lower, barely a whisper.

“Damn.” Another lazy chuckle, this one dripping smugness. “You feel so good.”

Before you can even think of a response, before you can even breathe, he dips his head lower and bites your shoulder.

Not rough. Not to mark you. Just a lazy, playful scrape of his teeth over your skin, possessive in a way that makes your stomach drop.

Then, with a soft, satisfied exhale, he nuzzles into you and falls right back asleep, leaving you pinned beneath the heat of him, completely wide awake.

Oh, fuck.

Masterlist

a/n: <3

Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765 @badwicht

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist < 3

[especially-obsessed]

Took a quick break to finish exams. Will be back shortly.

[especially-obsessed]

Guiltyyyyyy. It’s just like semi colons. I’m not scared of them and know how to use them properly!!!

"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

[especially-obsessed]

Say It Again

Summary: silence never stood a chance with Dean around <3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), supportive Dean

Word count: 600

Masterlist | Dean’s Playlist

His mouth was at your neck, teeth dragging with just enough pressure to make your stomach clench. One hand slid along your thigh, fingers splaying warm over your skin. The other gripped your hip, grounding you. Every movement of his was slow, steady like he had all the time in the world to learn your body.

Your breath stuttered. Your body answered him easily, hips tilting up, legs parting, nerves lit up like a live wire. But when he looked up at you, everything paused.

Your eyes were clamped shut. Your jaw was tight. Not a sound slipped past your lips.

“Hey,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, his voice low and rough. “You okay?”

You nodded fast, opening your eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He pulled back slightly, hand still resting on your thigh. His eyes searched yours.

“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re bracing for impact.”

A flush crept up your neck. Your stomach twisted.

“It’s not you,” you said quietly, eyes flicking away. “I just… I don’t really make noise. Not anymore.”

Dean’s brow creased. “Not anymore?”

You hesitated. The air felt thick suddenly. Hot.

“My ex used to say I was too much. That I sounded fake. So I stopped.”

For a second, the room went quiet except for the sound of your breath, shallow in your chest. Dean’s hand stayed right where it was.

Solid.

Warm.

Steady.

Then he leaned in again, slower this time. His mouth hovered just above yours.

“Well,” he said, voice like gravel and honey, “that guy was a fucking idiot.”

Your heart thudded against your ribs. You didn’t move.

Dean kissed you, slow but purposeful. Like he wanted you to feel every second of it. Like he had something to prove, not to himself, but to you.

“Baby,” he said against your lips, “I’m gonna make you forget he ever existed. And by the time I’m done, you won’t want to stay quiet.”

He took his time, hands mapping you out with a different kind of intention. His lips traced lazy paths down your neck, across your chest. His touch wasn’t just about getting you there. It was about reminding you that this was yours, too.

“You don’t have to be loud,” he said, voice low as his fingers slid between your thighs, parting you with aching slowness. “But whatever sound you make? That’s yours. And I’m lucky if I get to hear it.”

You felt yourself tense, not from discomfort, but from the way his words settled right in your chest. The way they disarmed you.

And then his fingers moved just right. Pressure perfect. Rhythmic patient but deep. You gasped.

Dean stilled. Smiled.

“That,” he whispered, eyes locked on yours. “That little sound right there? That’s real. That’s you. Don’t hide that from me.”

Heat bloomed across your skin. You bit your lip, trying to hold it back, but he knew what you were doing. And he wasn’t about to let it slide.

He kissed lower, lips dragging down your stomach, teasing. By the time he reached your thighs, your legs were already trembling.

Then his mouth.

The first swipe of his tongue had you gripping the sheets. He groaned low when your hips lifted into him, and the vibration shot straight through you.

You moaned a soft, broken sound. Raw. Real.

Dean didn’t stop. He deepened.

Every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers was meant to undo you. To free you. He wasn’t chasing a reaction. He was earning it.

Your moans came faster now, breathy and choked off, your fingers tangled in his hair.

And when his name finally ripped out of your throat, it was instinct. Not thought.

He looked up, eyes dark, mouth shining.

“There she is,” he murmured, voice thick with heat and something softer, deeper.

You flushed, overwhelmed, undone. But he didn’t stop.

He grinned, then dragged his tongue slowly and firmly over the spot that made you cry out again.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he growled. “Say it again.”

Masterlist

a/n: <3

Taglist: @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3

[especially-obsessed]

Period.

NOTICE: As more and more fanfic writers are using generative AI for their works (you uncreative dweebs), I hereby swear on everything I hold dear that I have not and will NEVER use generative AI in ANY of my written work. Everything I post will be organically and creatively my own.

[especially-obsessed]

Hey! I absolutely LOVE how you write Jeremy, he's so cute and adorable and you js wanna squeeze his cheeks. I was wondering if you take requests?

Hey anon! Yes requests are open! Just drop it into my inbox and I’ll see what I can do <3

Request here

[especially-obsessed]

Oh this broke something in me <3

Today, Dean sees a shooting star while looking up at the night sky and, for the first time in recent memory, no life or death wishes immediately come to mind.

[especially-obsessed]

Cling

Summary: Three days away, and Jeremy’s acting like you were gone for a year <3

Pairing: Jeremy x fem!reader

Warnings: fluff! <3

Word count: 1.2k

Masterlist | Jeremy's Playlist

You’d only been gone for three days. A girls' camping trip. No cell service, no drama. Just hikes, s’mores, and way too much wine under the stars. It was a short break from Mystic Falls, but for Jeremy, it might as well have been a year.

By the time you pull back into town, the sun’s already dipping low. There’s a bonfire party going on at the old clearing. Music, laughter, the crackle of flames. You wave at a few people as you walk in, but you’re already scanning the area for one person.

Not by the fire. Not by the drinks. Not lost in the crowd.

You know him too well.

You follow the soft trail of memory to the edge of the clearing, past the noise and smoke, where it’s quieter. And there he is, sitting on a log with his elbows on his knees, watching the firelight flicker like he’s waiting for something. Or someone.

You smile to yourself and sneak up behind him, soft steps over dead leaves. Then you slip your hands over his eyes.

He freezes for a split second, then relaxes. A smile blooms across his face before he even speaks.

“Took you long enough.”

You laugh under your breath. “You were waiting?”

“Of course I was. I knew exactly when you’d be back.”

You let your hands fall and before you can move away, he’s already up, turning, arms wrapping tight around your waist like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t.

“Hi,” you whisper, leaning into him. Your fingers comb through the hair at the base of his neck.

He pulls you even closer. “Hi.”

You don’t get much time for words after that. He pulls you down beside him, your legs brushing, his arm locked around your lower back. He doesn’t let go. Not even a little.

“You okay?” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer right away. His fingers trace slow circles at your waist. Then, voice low and quiet: “Didn’t like sleeping without you.”

It’s simple. Honest. A little unguarded in the way Jeremy rarely allows himself to be. It hits you harder than you expect.

You tilt your head and kiss him. Not deep. Just warm. Familiar. His hand curls into the back of your hoodie like it’s second nature.

And from then on, he’s glued to your side.

He follows you through the crowd, never more than a step away. If you move, his fingers brush yours. If you pause, he’s behind you, hand on your hip, or hooked through your back pocket with a smirk that dares you to call him out.

“I’ve got time to make up for,” he says with zero shame.

And he means it. Every brush of his thumb across your spine, every low murmur in your ear, every not-so-subtle lean into your space. He missed you. Badly.

When the fire dims and the crowd starts breaking off into smaller groups, the two of you quietly slip away. You end up at the Gilbert house, but instead of heading for the couch, he leads you straight upstairs to his bedroom.

The door shuts behind you, soft and final. The air shifts.

You drop your bag by the dresser and barely have time to turn around before he’s on you again. His hands settle on your waist, his forehead pressing against yours like he needs a second to breathe you in.

He kisses you again, deeper this time. His hands slide under your shirt, skimming along your sides. He walks you back toward the bed without breaking the kiss, guiding you down gently. It’s slow. Careful. But there’s heat under the surface, simmering.

You fall into the mattress, his weight half on top of you, legs tangled, his lips still on yours. His hand trails up your thigh, fingers brushing the edge of your shorts.

“You have no idea,” he whispers against your skin, “how much I missed you.”

Your hand slides into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp. “I missed you, too, baby.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jaw, the base of your neck. His lips are slow, careful, but there’s an edge underneath — a quiet urgency he’s barely holding back. You feel his breath stutter against your skin, the way his chest presses harder into yours like he’s fighting the instinct to just take what he wants.

He shifts on top of you again, and yeah, he’s definitely not holding back in one very specific way. You feel him, hard and insistent, through the thin barrier of your shorts and his jeans. The contact steals your breath for a second, your hips tilting up into him instinctively before you even realize you’re moving.

He lets out a low, almost broken noise and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his fingers curling tighter against your waist like he needs you closer, like even now you’re not close enough.

He breathes out, almost like a confession, "Didn’t know I could miss someone this much."

The words are raw and unguarded, a crack straight through all the stubborn walls he usually keeps up. They land somewhere deep inside you, settling heavy and warm.

Your hands find their way under the hem of his shirt, palms gliding up over warm skin and the hard lines of his stomach. You feel him tense beneath your touch, muscles flexing like he’s barely hanging on.

You pause there for a second, feeling the shiver that runs through him, the way his breath hitches again when your fingers brush higher.

And then, moving slow, teasing, savoring it, you tug his shirt higher—

“(Y/N)!” someone yells from downstairs. “We’re starting the movie! We need your help with snacks!”

You both freeze.

Jeremy lets out a guttural groan and drops his head to your chest. “Why do they hate me?”

You can’t help laughing, one hand covering your mouth.

“I told them I’d help,” you say, half-apologetic, half-regretful.

“Tell them you’re busy. With something important.”

“They’re not stupid.”

He sighs dramatically, flopping beside you on the bed. “I swear to God if they ruin—”

You roll over and kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth, just to tease him. “We’re not done. Promise.”

"I'll hold you to that."

He watches you tug your shirt back into place and head for the door. “You owe me,” he calls after you.

You glance back with a wicked smile. “Big time.”

Downstairs, the movie’s already queued up, and the girls barely look at you when you arrive, too busy arguing over popcorn seasoning and pillow placement. You do your best to focus, but you can still feel Jeremy’s hands on you, still taste that kiss.

Ten minutes later, he appears in the doorway, hoodie on, eyes sleepy but still trailing over you like you’re the only thing in the room.

Without a word, he slides in behind you on the floor couch, wraps his arms around your waist, and tucks his face into your neck.

“You’re warm,” he mumbles.

“You’re clingy.”

“I’m comfortable.”

You smile, leaning back into him. His arms don’t move. His grip doesn’t loosen. By the time the movie hits its first plot twist, you glance over your shoulder to see he’s completely asleep; soft breaths, lips parted, face still tucked against your shoulder.

You run your hand along his arm, tracing the shape of his wrist where it circles your waist.

He missed you.

And you missed this.

Masterlist

a/n: requested by @sc4rrc tysm <3

Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3

[especially-obsessed]

Outer Banks Masterlist

JJ Maybank x Reader

Extrovert

JJ was notorious for acting first and thinking later. y/n isn’t as adventurous, and JJ likes that.

Stormy Weather

It’s only a hurricane. What could go wrong?

Anchor

JJ wonders why you never go swimming with any of the Pogues. So he takes it upon himself to find out

It’s 3 in the Mornin’ & JJ’s Ending NOT AN HEA

Hi, why’d you only call me when you’re high?

Affection (New!)

Bored, drunk, and lonely. Throw in the fact that the two of you had the house to yourselves?

[especially-obsessed]

One More Candle

Summary: birthday tears; birthday kisses <3

Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x reader

Warnings: fluff, a little angst? Birthday tears/kisses

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Jeremy's Playlist

A/n: two posts in one day? It’s my birthday, and I get to do what I want! And because I always cry on my birthday, here’s Jer to pick up the pieces <3

The house was quiet. Too quiet for a birthday.

You dropped your bag by the door and didn’t even bother with the lights. The silence wrapped around you like a second skin, heavy and familiar. Everyone had said happy birthday, the texts, the half-hearted social media posts, the forced smiles at school, but none of it stuck. It always felt… off. Like they were congratulating someone who didn’t even feel real anymore.

You barely made it to your room before the weight hit.

No warning. Just the door clicking shut behind you and your legs giving out like your body knew before your brain did.

And then you were on the floor. Knees pulled to your chest. Arms wrapped around yourself. Tears rushing up from some place you’d buried too deep to name.

You weren’t sure how long you cried before you heard it, the soft creak of your door opening.

“Y/N?”

Jeremy.

Your first instinct was to hide your face, turning away from his gaze. He couldn’t speak. The sob stuck in your throat did all the talking for you.

He was down beside you a second later, no questions, no panic. Just his warmth easing into the cold edges of the room.

“Hey,” he said softly, brushing your hair back from your face. “You don’t have to talk. I’m right here.”

You didn’t know what broke you more, how gently he said it, or how much you believed him.

He pulled you into his arms, and you went willingly. Folded into his chest like you’d been waiting all day for permission to fall apart.

Your tears soaked his shirt. He didn’t flinch.

“I hate my birthday,” you choked out eventually, voice shaking. “I don’t know why. I just… every year it feels wrong.”

Jeremy didn’t say that’s okay or you should be happy. He just kissed your forehead and rested his cheek against your hair.

“You don’t have to explain it,” he murmured. “Some days just hurt, even when they’re supposed to be good.”

You nodded, the tears still coming, and he tilted your face up gently.

“Look at me.”

You did. Barely. Just enough.

He kissed a tear off your cheek, slow and deliberate. Then another. And another. Like he could erase the pain one drop at a time.

When his lips finally found yours, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t about fixing anything. It was just soft. Steady. Honest.

“I’m glad you were born,” he whispered against your mouth. “Even if today sucks. Even if you cry every birthday. I’m still glad.”

And somehow, with his arms around you and your face buried in his neck, the world felt a little less heavy.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, tucked into him, silent and wrung out.

When you finally stirred, he shifted just enough to reach into his jacket pocket. You didn’t even notice he had anything with him until he held it out—a tiny cupcake in a plastic container, slightly smushed, with a single unlit candle stuck in the middle.

You blinked at it. “What…?”

“I figured you’d avoid cake all day,” Jeremy said, sheepish, almost like he was nervous. “So I grabbed this. Just in case.”

Your throat tightened again. “Jeremy…”

“It’s not for the birthday part,” he added quickly. “It’s for the wish.”

You stared at the candle. Just one.

One little flame, if you wanted it. One small wish. He pulled out a lighter and gave you a look, waiting for your permission.

You nodded, slowly.

The flame flickered to life, soft and warm in the dark room.

Jeremy held it between you. “One last candle. No pressure. Just… make a wish for yourself. Not what people think you should want. Just yours.”

You stared at the flame for a long moment. Then closed your eyes.

You didn’t wish for happiness.

You didn’t wish to feel “normal.”

You just wished to not feel so alone next time.

You opened your eyes again. Jeremy smiled, soft, not pushing.

You leaned forward and blew it out.

The room dimmed again, but it didn’t feel so heavy this time.

Jeremy leaned in, pressed his lips to your temple.

“Happy birthday,” he said again, quieter.

You didn’t say anything back. You didn’t need to.

Masterlist

a/n: <3

Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist < 3

[especially-obsessed]

Still the One

Summary: Birthday dance in the kitchen <3

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff <3

Word count: 1.1k

Masterlist | Dean's Playlist

A/n: it’s my birthday! And I’ve been obsessed with this song lately, so enjoy this happy little moment <3

It’s late afternoon at Bobby Singer’s place; summer in South Dakota, warm and still. The windows are cracked open just enough to let in the sound of cicadas and the occasional creak of a passing car on the gravel road. The air smells like motor oil, old books, and something sweet you threw together from whatever Bobby had in the pantry.

The little kitchen is cluttered but cozy. Mismatched mugs, half-read papers, jars of screws and bolts that no one’s touched in years. It feels lived-in. Safe.

You’ve got your phone propped up on the windowsill, playing music through a tiny, beat-up speaker. The playlist is old-school—yours, not Dean’s. But he’s never once asked you to turn it off. “Still The One” by Orleans starts up, soft and familiar, and your body moves before your mind even catches up. Barefoot, lazy dancing across the scuffed linoleum, hips swaying as the light pools across the floor in gold streaks.

Dean walks in from the garage, wiping grease off his hands with a rag. He stops in the doorway, arms crossed, leaning against the frame like he has all the time in the world.

“You seriously listening to this?” he asks, a lopsided grin tugging at his mouth.

You don’t turn around. Just keep dancing, singing under your breath as you stir something in a pot on the stove. “You seriously pretending you don’t know every word?”

Dean chuckles. “I’m more of a Zeppelin guy.”

You finally glance back at him, giving him that look, the one that says don’t even try me right now. “Liar,” you say. “You’ve got this song in your bones.”

He watches you a moment longer, then drops the rag on the table. “You’re outta your mind.”

But he’s already moving, crossing the kitchen in slow steps. He doesn’t ask. Just slips one arm around your waist, the other catching your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You let him spin you gently, your socked feet sliding on the floor. He hums along, deliberately off-key, pulling a laugh out of you.

By the chorus, you’re fully dancing, awkward, clumsy, and perfect. Pots forgotten, windows glowing, the air thick with warmth and summer.

“We’re still having fun,” he sings, pointing at you dramatically, “and you’re still the one…”

You laugh harder, grabbing the front of his flannel and tugging him close. “You’re still the one.”

He dips you like you’re in a ballroom and nearly drops you. Both of you burst out laughing, clinging to each other as the song plays on. When it softens into the bridge, you don’t say anything. Neither does he.

Dean just pulls you in, his forehead against yours, swaying slowly. The room hums around you—the creak of the old fridge, the rustle of a breeze outside, Bobby’s TV faintly playing some black-and-white western in the background.

Then, almost like an afterthought, he says, “By the way, happy birthday.”

You smile against him. “You remembered.”

“I always do.” His thumb brushes the small of your back. “Figured you wouldn’t want a big thing, so… this felt right.”

“It is,” you say, barely above a whisper. “This is perfect.”

You’re still for a while. His hand stays on you like it’s meant to be there, like he’d fight the world to keep it that way.

Then, in classic Dean fashion, he tilts his head and adds, “You gonna finish cooking or just seduce me with ‘70s soft rock all night?”

You snort. “Can’t it be both?

He grins. “God, I love you.”

And just like that, without a single plan or reason, the kitchen at Bobby Singer’s becomes one of your favorite places in the world

Masterlist

a/n: <3

Taglist:

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist < 3

[especially-obsessed]

ACCURATE

Jeremy Gilbert and Sam Winchester are like alt universe versions of each other

[especially-obsessed]

Tysm! I was so nervous to write this but I couldn’t get the idea to go away 🥲

I’ve definitely caught the bug tho and have so many more ideas brewing!

Chopped

Summary: The tension snapped...and so did he <3

Pairing: Jeremy Gilbert x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, explicit sexual content, rough sex, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, light manhandling, Jeremy unhinged and sweaty in a white tank top (yes, it’s a warning)

Word count: 1.2k

Masterlist | Jeremy Playlist

The late afternoon sun slanted through the trees, casting golden light across the clearing just beyond the cabin. You lingered inside, leaning casually against the kitchen doorway, pretending to flip pages as you read your book. But your eyes kept drifting to the window.

You’d only planned to stay for the weekend.

Just long enough to help Jeremy manage the worst of the urges, to keep him focused during training, to make sure he didn’t accidentally turn Elena into a cautionary tale. The whole newly activated hunter thing had thrown him hard, and being his best friend, you volunteered to help. Because you cared. Because you always had.

But you couldn’t even prepare for it. What no one warned you about, was this.

Jeremy was outside, a few feet from the porch, one boot braced against a thick log, axe gripped in both hands. The tank top he was wearing was practically see-through with sweat, clinging to every ridge of muscle across his chest and back. His arms flexed with every controlled swing, veins bulging down his forearms, jaw clenched in focus. Every movement was effortless. Animal. Tension built and released with each perfect crack of the axe.

You watched as the tank was riding up just enough to flash the strip of skin above his jeans, taut, tan, and glistening in the heat. Every muscle in his body moved with that raw, effortless strength that came with being a hunter. There was something primal about it. Powerful. And watching him like this, focused, glistening, grunting softly as he split log after log, it did something to you.

You bit your lip, eyes following the line of sweat as it ran from his neck, across his collarbone, and disappeared down beneath the tank that lifted slightly every time he wiped his brow. He didn’t know you were watching.

Until he did.

He looked up, squinting toward the cabin, and caught you in the act.

You jerked your head away, but it was too late. He saw it. Saw the way you’d been eyeing him like he was the last drop of water in the desert. You tried to refocus, heart thudding in your chest, but then you heard the axe drop with a dull thud.

A few minutes passed. The front door creaked open.

Boots on wood. Then the soft thunk of them hitting the floor inside. You stayed still, half-expecting him to pass through without a word, but something was different. Charged.

Jeremy stepped into the kitchen, brushing past you just enough for your arms to graze. His skin was still warm from outside. Still glistening. Still dangerous.

“Something on your mind?” he asked, voice low, casual, but his eyes didn’t match his tone. They were dark. Direct. Like he already knew the answer.

“I was just… watching you work,” you said quickly, moving toward the hallway. The words left your mouth before you even had time to weigh them. And that was the problem, you were watching. And he knew.

He chuckled under his breath, following you. You could hear the smirk in his voice when he muttered, “You always stare like that, or is it the sweat?”

Your feet carried you forward, but your brain had already short-circuited. The hallway gave you space. Sort of. But you weren’t two steps in before you felt him again.

Without warning, he was there.

Jeremy’s presence loomed behind you. You barely had time to register it before his hand shot out, palm flat against the wall beside your head, blocking your escape. You froze, body shuddering from the sudden proximity, but his eyes, dark and intense, held you captive.

Before you could even react, he moved, pressing his body against yours, pinning you against the wall with a force that made your breath hitch. His hands reached up, catching both of yours, pulling them above your head, keeping them there with ease. His body was warm, solid against you, and the contrast of the coolness of the walls behind you only heightened the sensation of being completely trapped, yet strangely safe.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing, your mind fighting to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that swept over you. You barely had time to gasp before Jeremy’s lips crashed into yours, hot, demanding, tender. It was as if all the tension, all the unspoken feelings between you two, were finally exploding in that one kiss. His mouth moved against yours with a gentle urgency, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.

The heat of his kiss sent waves of warmth flooding through you, and despite the cool air that lingered around the cabin, you felt like you were melting. His hands, still gripping yours above your head, shifted, his fingers trailing down your arms slowly, reverently, until they landed on your waist. The touch of his skin against yours sent a shiver down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Jeremy...” Your voice broke through the kiss, soft, almost pleading, but it was all he needed to hear.

With a low groan, he deepened the kiss, his lips parting just enough to let his tongue slip past yours. The feeling of his kiss, so soft, yet so consuming, made everything else in the world disappear. The only thing that mattered was him, his body pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the dim light of the hallway.

His chest moved with shallow breaths against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart under your fingers as they lightly gripped his shirt. His body was tense, almost desperate, like he had been holding back for far too long. And then, as if to prove a point, his grip on your hands tightened, pulling you closer, closing any remaining space between you.

His lips left yours for a moment, and your chest heaved with the effort to catch your breath. You couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything but the heat between you, the way your body responded to his every touch. You felt his breath, hot against your skin, as he whispered your name, his voice husky and rough with desire.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, but there was a vulnerability in his gaze, a question.

You didn’t have to say anything. Your response was clear in the way you kissed him again, more fiercely this time, teeth scraping, tongue tangling, need blooming like fire beneath your skin. You pressed your hips forward into his, and when your body met the hard length of him through his jeans, he snapped.

A growl rumbled from his chest as he shoved your hands above your head again, pinning both wrists with one strong hand. His free hand slid down your side, rough and fast, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

Your breath caught, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, as he yanked your shirt over your head and tossed it to the side. His mouth was on you instantly, hot and open against your neck, trailing down over your collarbone as he fumbled with your bra. When it finally came undone, he didn’t hesitate, sinking to his knees in front of you, hands dragging your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh motion.

“Fuck,” he muttered, looking up at you, eyes glazed with heat. “Look at you.”

You couldn’t respond. Could barely breathe. Not when he leaned in and kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and reverent like a prayer, just before his mouth found your center.

You cried out, your back arching against the wall as his tongue dragged through your folds, long, deliberate, possessive. He gripped your thighs, holding you steady, anchoring you to the wall with his mouth and his hands and the low, guttural sounds he made as he ate you out like he needed it to survive.

You reached for him, one hand tangling in his hair, the other bracing against the wood paneling behind you, fingers scrambling for anything solid.

When his lips latched around your clit, sucking hard, you nearly came undone right there.

“Jeremy—” His name broke from you, high and wrecked.

He didn’t stop. He groaned into you like he liked the sound of you falling apart, and the vibration sent a jolt through your core.

It hit fast and hard. Your legs trembled, body locking up as pleasure tore through you in a wave that left you gasping and whimpering against the wall. Jeremy held you through it, slowing only when your hips twitched away from overstimulation.

Then, with a low growl, he stood.

You barely had time to blink before he was unzipping his jeans, pulling himself out, hard, flushed, and leaking. He caught your leg behind the knee and lifted it, draping it over his hip as he pressed you back against the wall again.

He pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust, and the stretch made your mouth fall open around a gasp. You clung to his shoulders as he bottomed out, his hands gripping your ass, lifting you just enough so he could thrust without mercy.

The hallway echoed with the sounds of skin on skin, the slap of his hips hitting yours, the broken moans he grunted against your neck. His name spilled from your lips in a litany, a plea, a prayer.

You’d never seen him like this. Wild, desperate, uncontrolled. His teeth scraped your throat, his fingers dug bruises into your skin, and his cock hit a spot inside you that made your vision blur.

You were so close again, clenching around him, and he felt it; his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering as he buried his face in your neck.

“Come for me,” he panted. “Fuck—come on, baby—”

You did, hard and fast, your body locking around him like a vice, your scream swallowed by his kiss as he slammed into you one last time and spilled inside you with a growl.

He held you there for a long moment, both of you trembling, breathing hard, bodies still tangled and pressed to the wall.

And then, slowly, he eased out, still holding you steady, pressing his forehead to yours.

“We didn’t even make it to the damn bed,” he whispered, a breathless laugh catching on the edge of his voice.

You grinned, brushing your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Worth it.”

Masterlist

a/n: first time writing smut because I've literally been terrified to do so. Hopefully it hits <3

Taglist: @imanewsoul @s0urw00lf @bucklebunny8765

Let me know if you would like to be added to a taglist <3