Angel 999

Pieces

[sugarhigh14]

꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 ࿐ ⟡ ݁

PART ONE: bestfriends, fuck, repeat.

𝓦arnings : explicit smutty intro, smut such as oral, p inv.

“patrick, oh my god.” you cried. patrick was pounding into you like he couldn’t get enough. “fuck…” he moaned, leaning down as his hips grinded his dick in a deep rhythm inside of you. he kissed your neck, and chest, clearly intending to leave hickeys. his warm, wanting mouth made you tighten around him. “jesus christ, yeah, baby. squeeze me. feel me all up in your pretty p—” you cut him off with a kiss, his hand came to wrap around your shoulder to thrust deeper inside of you. the sounds of skin slapping and hard breathing filled your bedroom.

eventually the kiss broke and he started to grind more slower, it was torture in the best way.

“don’t hurt yourself.” he whispered, tugging your bottom lip with his thumb out of your teeth. you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in deeper— which earned a groan from his throat. his head dipped down to your neck again, but when you lifted his head, he looked up at you and presses his mouth to yours.

he paused for a moment. he reaches down and puts your legs over his shoulders and leans back down, making you fold around him. the sensation was unreal— that was confirmed because both of you had to pause to just moan at the intense feeling. when he started back up again, it was faster, more desperate. “I can’t get enough of ya, baby. you’re so fucking addictive.” you decide to tease him with, “hmm… me, I’m addictive?” that made him quickly grab the rail of your headboard— fucking you harder. “fuck! patrick…I’m…ughhh..I’m..” his left grip tightened on your thigh. “come, come f’me.”

your emotions were so high for this boy that you whimpered, and he leaned down and kissed you and you melted right into it. the wonderful feeling of his lips against yours, and the way he took care of you, the way he called you baby. you didn’t want to lose him again after this. but you always did. you knew it was just casual sex.

─୨ৎ

when you woke up in your bed the next morning, you were flat on your back, the blanket pooling around your waist. when the breeze from the fan hit your chest, you immediately pulled the covers back up, only to pull them down again to see the hickeys scattered across your breasts. you didn’t bother looking over to your side— you knew he had left. if he did stay— there would be strings. and that’s not what this was.

be friends.

fuck.

repeat.

it had started off with a drunken mistake, and then a tipsy one. and then he kissed you in his truck— which had led you having sex in the backseat. which now, it was a mutual agreement to meet up after school on friday either in his car or at your house. but you had grown feelings— deep ones for him since this whole “friends with benefits” things started. but you didn’t know if he wanted anything serious. so you stayed quiet. neither of you have brought it up to make anything official.

you forced yourself out of bed and went to the shower, once you stepped into the warm steam of water, you shut your eyes, wondering what could be. you felt the tears mix in with the water. you loved him. really loved him. and in return you felt like a fucking dick reliever for him— something for him just to go to every friday to get his weekly release, but he was your friend, so you couldn’t say anything. exhausted from the depressing feelings, you wiped your hair out of your face and got yourself out of your head. saturday’s were always the quietest.

─୨ৎ

on monday, you were walking down the hall to your first class. you looked on your left down a hall and saw johnny kavanagh, talking to non other than your best friend patrick feely. he smiled and raised a hand to you— (and it should’ve fucking been a kiss on the cheek and a good morning, you thought.) you waved slightly and walked up the stairs.

“I can smell the tension.” johnny said to him. “what?” patrick replied, swinging his head away from your ass going up the stairs back to him. “the sexual tension, pat. why don’t you ask her out?”

“cause he’s a fuckin’ coward.” gibsie laughed, coming up to the two of them, patrick shot a glare at him. “I’m not askin’ her out. just—“ “just what? let you suppress those sweet, tender feelings you have for the girl?” gibsie shot at him. “gibs.”— that was johnny. “listen lads, I’m just friends with the girl, okay? good friends. I’m not messin’ that up with a relationship that will blow up in the end.” “probably good friends alright!” gibsie shouted. “patrick, man—“ johnny tried, but he was already gone.

after school, patrick came up to you as everyone was walking out for the end of the day. “hey.” you looked up at him. “hi, patrick.” the tension was horribly suffocating today. “how was your day?” he choked out. “good, what about yours?” “It was good…do ya need a ride?” “actually, I do. claire bailed on me, said something came up.”

in the passenger seat of his truck, you looked over at him. “where are we going?” that oddly made him chuckle. “well, I supposed I drove ya home.” “oh yeah, right.”

on the ride, there was a unexpected speed bump, and you jolted— which made a big hand come to your thigh to steady you. you blushed when that hand stayed when he continued to drive. when he pulls up to the side of your house, you looked at him exactly when he was leaning over to you, in a blink his lips were on your neck. you felt your eyes shut from the sensation. he was so fucking good at this. “patrick… it’s not.. it’s monday. our days are frid—“

“I don’t care. I want you so goddamn badly right now.”

— ୨ৎ

“yeah, yeah. fuck my face, baby. put in the work.” patrick groaned from between your legs, you were using all your hip strength to rub and grind yourself in his face while you were flat on your back— in the back of his truck. still at the side of your house. “mmphm…” “ya feel good, sweet girl?” patrick rasped out, putting his tongue out when you grinded back up, and the surprise of his wet tongue made you moan louder. “your family’s gonna hear ya from outside.” you could hear the smile in his voice. “you’re kinky.” you breathed out, a smile came across your face, quickly replaced by a moan.

“you look so beautiful.” he breathed, grabbing your hips to still your grinds and working his mouth on you instead. caught up in the moment, you didn’t hear him at first, but once the words registered in your brain, you looked down at him and barley got out, “you think im beautiful?” patrick paused— which you would usually pull him by his hair back down on you but you wanted to hear this.

“of course I do. you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve laid my eyes on.” that made your head spin and circulate what the hell he could’ve meant by that. you didn’t get to ponder on it for long because his mouth came down on you again, and all thoughts cleared away…atleast for now.

— ୨ৎ

on thursday, you guys were in the chipper. “so, listen.” patrick says, taking a mean bite out of his burger. “listening.” “hughie is having a party on friday. let me take you.” you smiled at him. “aww, you wanna take me?” you teased him, reaching up to pinch his cheek, he nudged you away, smiling. “chill. I can take you to parties. plus, we always go together.” “hmmm. yeah, I suppose that’s true.”

he looked over at your plate, he takes a fry. “patrick, you elephant!” “I need it for the rugby.” he laughed at his own lame excuse. “oh yeah because burgers and fries will give you the fuel for that.” you smiled and took a bite out of his burger. “how do you feel?” you said through your food, smiling happily. he rolled his eyes. “disturbed.” “whatever. you’re worse.”

he laughed at that, nudging you and offering you a fry. “we’re both bad. that’s why you’re my best friend. ya get me.” you take the fry and realize the piece of food was an excuse to get you to look at him. “getting all sentimental over food, patrick?” your emotions for the boy shot right back up hard in your heart, making your voice breathless.

“nah, just admirin’ the amazin’ girl infront of me.”

“you’re sweet, patrick.” that made him blush somehow because he switched the topic. like he was too scared to go any further. “so…about that party?”

“yeah. I’m in.”

thank you for reading angels!! I know this was one was lengthy.

as you can see at the top, it says part one. I plan to make a few more parts to this. ♡

taglist: @ithinkimagirlkisser @angel06babysworld

join the taglist here.

banner credits : @chrisssiren

©sugarhigh14 2026

[leftbyjb]

Amazing!!!!

[sugarhigh14]

꘩ 𝓟atrick 𝓕eely in — 𝓖𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝓕𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ࿐ ⟡ ݁

𝓦arnings : smut , oral , cursing , pet names , f in v .

“so? how was it?” your friend, stacy asked. she was all up in your personal space by your locker, all giddy since you and patrick feely had the first sleepover last night. you’d been going out with him for 4 months now.

“i didn’t say we did anything, stace.” you say, although you can’t help but a smile.

“something happened. i know it did! come on, spill.” stacy says, grinning ear to ear. when you blushed and kept busy in your locker— stacy gasps, realizing something. “oh my god, he plays guitar, doesn’t he?” she laughs happily. “I bet it was good then.”

you roll your eyes playfully. “im kinda regretting telling you he came over. you are awfully interested in my sex life right now, stacy.” you tease, but nonetheless give in to your best friend. smiling, you discreetly add, “yeah, he’s good with the guitar.”

“so something did happen.” stacy smiles knowingly.

“yeah, something.”

─୨ৎ

“pat,” you panted aganist his lips, breathless as his hands roamed your body, gently — but his need was clear by the way his fingertips gripped your hips.

patrick pulled himself up. his shirt had been taken off by you the second you two fell on your bed earlier. “don’t do this f’me, baby. make sure you want this.” he murmured softly before pressing a drugging kiss to your lips, to emphasize what the “this” was.

“i do want this. i want you, patrick.” you sighed aganist his lips, your nerves melting away at the reassurance he gave so effortlessly, you knew it was because he meant it. he always did.

your eyes drank in his physice, built on working on his familys’ farm and doing rugby. you reach out and run your fingers over his abs and chest, his muscles tighten under your touch. patrick fought a shiver at the warm touch. he sighs and slides his large under your ass, gripping your tommen skirts’ waistband from underneath you.

“don’t look at me like that unless you want me to do somethin’ about it.” his voice was deeper, raspier. he lifts up one of your legs and presses a kiss to your thigh and smirking against it when you shivered.

silently, he slides down to be between your legs, peppering the soft flesh of your thighs. he slides off your tommen skirt and tosses it on your rug floor. he kisses your most sensitive area through your panties, nuzzling against it. “jesus, baby. you’re soaked. you always been like this for me when im holdin’ myself back? all hot and bothered?”

“patrick . . . don’t tease,” you gasp as his nose and lips nuzzle you through your panties, too sensitive for his teasing. “i need . . .”

“what do you need, pretty baby? tell me.” he kisses your area again.

whimpering, “your mouth, patrick.”

“hm. that’s right.” he moves your panties to one side, too turned on and needy to even get up from his spot between you. he presses a kiss to you again. with that, he slowly drags his tongue on you.

as he worked his mouth on you, you cried out helplessly. your legs wrapped around his neck tightly and your hands fisted his hair. “patrick. . . baby . . . fuck! i- i mphm . .”

patrick lifts his head up and he kisses up your body, which only holds a bra now. he presses a kiss to your thigh, stomach, chest, neck and jaw. when he reaches your lips, he leans into the hands now gripping his back. he slips his tongue inside your mouth as one hand escapes your waist and slides to spread open one leg again, before you could process— two fingers slipped inside of you. full, rough and aching.

he restlessly pumped his fingers in and out of you, his face calm like he’s used to working his hands like this— which he was. but even with his calmed face, his eyes were dark and hooded as they drifted between his hand to focus and to you, and when he stared at you—studying you, you couldn’t help but notice the pink flushing on his cheeks.

“you’re close, aren’t ya, baby?” he whispers roughly, kissing your neck, the position caused his veins to flex in his wrist, which did nothing but fuel the fire inside of you as his hand moved in a perfect, effortless rhythm.

his fingers moved faster inside. slick, wet sounds between his hand and you. when he gets the approval by your arms around his shoulders and sweet moans in his ear, he kisses you and groaned against your mouth— “come for me, baby. let go on my hand, pretty girl.”

“patrick. . . god right there!” you cried, clinging to him, your freshly done nails digging into his back.

patrick groaned when your thighs trembled against his arm and hand. “fuckin’ hell. that’s it, baby.”

patrick slowly comes to a stop when he helped you ride out your high.

he slowly, so slowly, pulls out his fingers. he cups your waist and the forearm that was beside your head comes down and his hand cups your jaw. “you’re so beautiful, baby. so perfect. you did so good.” he kisses you deeply, as he does he pulls you against his chest. patrick sighed against your lips when your fingers find his hair, he pulls back, taking your in your flushed face. “my beautiful girl.”

─୨ৎ

“hello? can you even hear me? im waiting.” stacy says, snapping her fingers in your face.

you snap out of your zone-out, you had gotten too wrapped up in the heated memory of the night before. “sorry, what?” you replied, you could feel your cheeks burning.

“i asked how it was. and do not say nothing happened again.”

“well. . . the guitar payed off.” you admitted, once again flustered.

“guitar fingers?” stacy smirked.

“guitar fingers.”

©sugarhigh14 2026

disclaimer . . . this is my first ever finished piece of writing! so please be kind! ♡

— music banner credits to @suupersonic

likes and reblogs are appreciated ♡ ♡

[risipieces]

may some goddess of a writer make a fanfic about patrick feely x reader & make it include angst, tension, fluff, a bit of smut, and like wholesome moments (wearing his jersey at one of the matches and kisses him on the field after tommen wins), and happy ending.. FANKYEW

xoxo

[leftbyjb]

Someone needs to write Patrick Feely x reader fics, I am just obsessed with Feely that I am going crazy

[ivysprophecy]

Feral For you

boys of tommen talking to you about the struggles of nnn <3 mdni

[tomm6n]

hi!! would you be able to do an angsty feely fic ig inspired by 'scotty doesn't know?' like she's in katie's position where hugh is cheating on her but she's kind of starts cheating on him back with patrick after she finds out.. I hope that makes sense!! tysm 🫶

note ⸝⸝⸝ i love u anon this was genius and it was sm fun writing this ugh pt2 def coming soon!!!!!

summary ⸝⸝⸝ drama drama.. and drama

warnings ⸝⸝⸝ cheating, mentions of suggestive behavior(no smur tho), cursing

you’ve been in a lovely, awesome relationship with one of tommen high school’s students. your relationship started from catching each other’s eye, when you both got grouped up for a project. things led to another and you ended up as an undying couple.

you thought your relationship was pretty solid. hughie biggs was a nice guy — most of the time. only when it was just you two alone. never when he was around a specific blonde girl. and that blonde girl’s name ended in “young.” you tried to avoid it though. avoid catching that jealousy feeling, avoid being a possessive girlfriend. but the way she acted with hughie when you were there. and the way he just allowed it to happen.

which is why things stumbled, and uh… i guess you could say you didn’t mean to really end up having a full-on makeout sesh with patrick feely in the backseat of hughie’s car. it wasn’t your fault! well okay, it was. but you didn’t do it intentionally! you were both drunk, off your minds drunk from hughie’s classic crazed party, and catching hughie and lizzie kissing in his bedroom was just another stoop.

patrick caught you when you were at your lowest. crying in front of his house, after literally vomiting into the bushes, he was the one who held your hair back, and caressed you, making sure you felt better.

which is why you both are awkwardly sitting next to each other at lunch. you’re in between hughie and patrick. what a lovely seating.

hughie’s talking loudly with gibs, the rest of the table either laughing at them or lost in their own conversations, but not you and patrick. you were trying to focus on anything other than the fact that patrick’s fingers were caressing your inner thigh.

your cheeks redden the second feely leans into your side, manspreading a bit more so his thigh touches yours.

hughie turns to face you. “earth to you. what’s on your mind?” he says, waving a hand in your face.

“yeah, what do you think? don’t side with him just cuz he’s your boyfriend! side with the truth.” gibs says, the entire table shutting to look at you.

you awkwardly shift your gaze away from them and down to your lap. “uh. i don’t know? i side with no one.”

gibs loudly sighs. “see! she’s just saying that because she doesn’t wanna hurt your feelings, hughs!”

hughie turns his attention back to him. the entire table goes back to their usual chatter. god, that was awkward. actually no — it wasn’t awkward. you were just nervous because patrick won’t stop touching you! and you allowed him. you could stop and say something but you don’t want to. because you like the feeling of cheating on hughie back. you like the way patrick treats you, like you’re the only person in the world. that’s what you originally wanted in your relationship, but hughie’s eyes were on someone else. and now yours are on feely’s.

you and feely are in the janitor’s closet, students still walking outside and chattering. he has to go back to rugby practice soon but you guys got a little caught up.

patrick says your name softly, “seriously. i need to go. they’re gonna think it’s suspicious—”

he gets cut off by you pressing your lips to his. “seriously? you teased me all day during lunch and now you can’t spare a few seconds for me?” you tilt your head, grinning at him.

“fuck, i swear you do something to me— two more kisses then we’re done.”

“three?”

“no. two. what are you doing right now? enough with the pouty face.”

“i won’t stop till you add a three, farmer boy.”

patrick groans, rubbing his hands over his face, then grabbing you by the jaw. his tongue slides into yours for invitation and you accept instantly. the way his mouth feels against yours is just… unbelievable. you’ve never felt this electric feeling before with anyone, not even your uh… current boyfriend. but… let’s not talk about that.

after a final kiss you both dust yourselves off, that after-look of a strong makeout sesh will look obvious, and very suspicious. “i’ll leave first, yeah?” patrick asks, gripping onto your hand, slowly interlocking yours with his. you nod. “yeah. bye.” you smile at him. the janitor’s closet is dark but not dark enough that you can’t see each other’s faces. and the look on your face right now almost makes him drop to his knees for you.

“fuck. okay. bye, love.” he says, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, then opening the door to leave. you sigh as the door closes behind him, giggling to yourself that you’ve attained such a man. well… not attained, since you guys aren’t really together yet, but you feel so different with him.

you sit on the benches with shannon, claire, and lizzie, watching the boys practice for rugby. “this is so fucking boring. can’t we do something else?” lizzie says with visible annoyance. she’s never liked going to rugby matches—you know that because hughie told you.

“no liz! there’s a big match coming soon and gibsie really wanted me to come to his practice.”

“and to do what?”

“support him! obviously.”

“how? you’re just watching him play.”

claire throws a twizzler at liz. “shhhh. you wouldn’t get it.”

as the two proceed to bicker, you lock eyes with patrick, him sending a wink to you. you have to stop yourself from smiling before someone notices. “who’d patrick just wink a—” shannon says, but you put your hand over her mouth. your eyes widen, looking around to make sure no one heard.

she slowly removes your hand. “what?” she whispers. you scoot away, pushing shannon a bit farther with your hip. “i have to tell you something. but you can’t tell anyone. okay? not even johnny.”

she raises an eyebrow, nodding curiously. “i kissed patrick. well. not once. but a few times.”

she gasps loudly but covers her mouth before the other two notice. “when was this?”

“like… hughie’s last party.”

she gasps again, but this time quietly. looking back at patrick then you, she gulps. “what are you gonna do now?”

“i don’t know shan. but i’m confused why you aren’t mad at how i cheated on hughs.”

“well… not biased or anything but i just feel like hughie isn’t really the one for you. so i don’t know? i kinda expected this to happen.”

“me cheating?”

“no no!” she quickly replies, hands waving you off. “i mean like… i expected your relationship would end sooner or later.”

you nod, processing everything she said. she was right. shannon knew. you and hughie’s relationship was never going to be stable forever. this was just a high school relationship you both jumped into too quickly. you were his rebound.

before you guys can continue, the boys head up. claire and liz walk down to them, as shannon gets up and grabs your hand, pulling you along.

you and patrick make eye contact before hughie pulls you in and kisses you. his right hand holds your cheek before pulling away. patrick’s jaw clenches at the sight of his lips touching yours. you cringe at the fact you kissed both of them in one day.

eyeing patrick again, hughie interrupts you. “why do ya keep lookin at pat?”

your heart almost drops to the floor when he says that. shan too probably, judging by the nervous side-eye she gives you.

“no reason. we just uh—have a project to work on together.”

he nods, ruffling your hair, then throws his arm around your shoulder. “thought pat jumped on you or somethin’.” he laughs.

patrick sends a fake smile his way, replying, “jumped? you know i don’t do that with girls. they come to me first.”

seriously? it feels wrong for your heart to break at that, since your literal boyfriend is beside you, but that hurt. why would he say that? he could’ve just avoided hughie’s words.

after school ends, with everyone wrapping up for the weekend, you decide to head to your favorite fast food shop, a burger place nearby your house. ordering, you sit down in one of the booths. you wanted shannon to come but she was busy with johnny. you had no one else to talk to about this.

you couldn’t tell claire because she’s literally hughie’s sister. and you couldn’t tell lizzie either because she’s the one who kissed hughie in the first place. you two were never that close anyway.

but seriously, you’re stuck. and patrick’s stupid line earlier just made you even more confused—upset.

the bell jingles. patrick enters the room. you don’t notice, still lost in thought.

he notices you though. he always does. you could be in a crowd of thousands and he’d still spot you. he heads over, sliding into the booth in front of you.

your head raises. you and him make eye contact.

he says your name softly.

“feely.” it comes out like a whisper instead of a calling.

he flinches slightly at you calling him by his last name. you always call strangers by their last names.

“what did i do?”

“i don’t know. ask one of those girls who supposedly chase you.”

patrick’s eyes flicker. he suddenly knows why you’re upset. he runs a hand over his face before grabbing your hand, his thumb brushing over your index finger.

“you know i didn’t mean it that way. i only said it because of him.”

you can’t help but soften into his touch, and the way he speaks, his voice so soothing. “whatever, it’s fine pat.”

“no it’s not. i want you to communicate with me when you feel upset okay? especially when it’s about something i did. i don’t like seeing you sad over my actions.”

your heart beats faster at his words, embarrassment flooding in for being overdramatic. but you knew you had a reason to feel hurt.

“okay. i’m—” before you could finish your sentence the waiter arrives, placing your order on the table. patrick pulls his hand away, leaning back into the booth, manspreading.

you look at him, then down at the burger and fries. “uh, we can share.”

he shakes his head. “nah, it’s yours.”

you giggle, knowing he’s probably starving. these irish rugby boys are always hungry. you cut your sandwich in half then rotate the plate so you can both share. “eat, patty.”

“you tryna make fun of me?” he grins, holding the other half.

“mmm… maybe.” you say, biting into your burger. the two of you fall into silence, a comfortable silence.

as you both finish, you see him grinning at you. you raise your eyebrow curiously as to why. he reaches his thumb toward you, wiping the side of your lips. but it doesn’t stop there. his index finger brushes softly along your bottom lip.

you’re both lost in the moment when the bell rings. a group of boys enter. patrick spots hughie next to gibsie. he whisper-yells, “fuck, they’re here.”

“i mean, we’re friends? right? can’t we just say we were eating together?”

he stares quietly, as you nod to yourself, realizing how stupid that sounds. “okay! let’s just leave, patrick.”

he pulls your hand. you both quickly exit the booth, heading toward the hall near the bathrooms.

“shit. oh my— what if we just dine and dashed? that’s bad! we could get arrested, pat. what do we do?? he’s gonna catch us.”

patrick pecks your lips, shushing you.

you both hear footsteps coming closer. you spot a janitor’s room and reach for the doorknob. locked.

“patrick?” a voice says.

you both swiftly turn your heads. hughie stands at the end of the hall, watching you.

“are you fucking my girl?”

[moonyslipstick]

salty makeouts

Arguing with Patrick Feely felt like standing on the edge of a cliff during a thunderstorm—one moment it was all wind and the scent of salt in the air, thrilling and alive, and the next you were being hurled into crashing waves below. It always started quietly, cautiously. Like two people trying not to wake a sleeping giant. But inevitably, one word—just one—would send everything spiraling.

You had been standing in the middle of his bedroom when it happened. The place was dimly lit, only the soft golden glow of the old lamp on his nightstand throwing pools of light on the deep navy walls. His guitar leaned lazily against the edge of the bookshelf, schoolbooks were strewn across the desk in his usual half-chaotic fashion. It smelled like sandalwood and something sweet—his cologne. Familiar, comforting, even when everything else felt sharp.

“You’re being crazy!”

There it was. The word. That word.

You froze. Your body stiffened like you’d just walked into icy water. You blinked once, then again, like if you did it enough times, the sting behind your eyes would go away.

He realized it the moment it left his mouth. His expression shifted, regret flickering in his dark eyes for just a second. But then, as always, pride got in the way.

“Oh, I see. Sorry for trying to be enough for Patrick fucking Feely,” you said, voice trembling like the air before a storm. You folded your arms tightly over your chest, more to keep yourself from shaking than anything else.

“Maybe stop trying so hard,” he snapped, tone sharp. “It’s suffocating. You’re suffocating.”

You flinched. Your lip trembled before you could stop it. “That’s mean, Pat. You’re being mean.”

“No, I’m not being mean. I’m being real,” he said, taking a step away, as if distance would soften the blow. “Ever since you came back from Dublin, you’ve been… different. I can’t deal with this right now. I should go.”

Oh, that’s how it is…

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your heart was roaring. “Yes, you should.”

He didn’t look at you again. Just turned, grabbed his jacket off the back of his desk chair, and left. The door slammed behind him, vibrating through your bones.

For a few moments, you just stood there, staring at the space he left behind. His scent still lingered in the air. His hoodie was still draped over the edge of the bed. There was an empty mug on the nightstand—he’d made you tea that morning. That version of him, the one who made tea and sang you songs when you couldn’t sleep, felt like a ghost now.

You dropped onto the bed, knees folding in, your back curling like a dying leaf. Then the tears came. Not the pretty kind. The ugly, heaving, choking kind. The kind that leaves your face blotchy and your chest hollow. You weren’t even crying over the fight—you were crying because you believed him. Because deep down, that small, cruel voice in your head had been whispering the same thing for weeks: You’re too much.

The next day at Tommen was a blur. The school looked the same, but everything felt different. The halls were filled with laughter and chatter, but it passed over you like smoke. You kept your head down, eyes fixed on the floor tiles like they held all the answers.

In class, you sat next to Shannon, who was practically glowing as she spoke about her weekend in Dingle with Kav. Her fingers twisted through her curls as she described the seaside cottage, the firelit dinners, the moonlit walks on the shore. You nodded along, offered smiles in the right places, but your mind was elsewhere. Stuck on that moment in Patrick’s room. That word. Crazy.

You didn’t look behind you, because you knew. You could feel him. That strange gravity Patrick Feely always carried—his stare burning holes in the back of your neck. But he didn’t approach. And neither did you.

The walk home was miserable. A thin drizzle coated the streets in a slick sheen, and the grey sky seemed to mirror your mood perfectly. The route along the canal was usually your favorite—lined with cherry trees and little stone benches—but today it felt too open, too exposed. Like the world was watching you unravel.

That night, sleep never came. You lay in bed staring at the ceiling, counting the rotations of the fan, your thoughts spiraling faster than the blades. You didn’t eat. You skipped your meds. You drowned yourself in schoolwork, hoping to quiet the noise.

But Patrick’s voice kept echoing.

The third day after the fight, something snapped. You grabbed your coat, pulled on his hoodie—you hadn’t been able to stop wearing it, no matter how much it hurt—and left your house with no real destination in mind. Your feet just… moved.

You ended up at the lake.

It was raining again. Not a drizzle—proper Irish rain, coming down in sheets. The kind of rain that soaked you through no matter how fast you ran. But you didn’t run. You walked slowly, letting the cold water seep into your shoes, your hair plastering to your face, your fingers trembling.

The lake was surrounded by trees, dark and wild, the kind that seemed to hold secrets. You’d come here with him before. Once, after a particularly bad anxiety attack, he’d brought you here. Sat you on a blanket, wrapped you in his arms, and talked about nonsense until you smiled.

Now you stood on the edge, arms wrapped around your own body, sobbing so hard it felt like your ribs might crack. “You said you’d never leave when it got hard,” you whispered to no one, voice raw.

“I didn’t,” came a voice behind you.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned.

The rain came down harder now, like the sky itself was falling apart. Cold water streamed down your back, soaking Patrick’s hoodie clinging to your frame, and yet you barely noticed. Every nerve in your body was locked on him.

Patrick stood just a few feet away, chest rising and falling beneath his drenched T-shirt, jaw tense, fists clenched at his sides like he didn’t trust his own body not to reach for you.

“I didn’t leave,” he said again, hoarse.

You blinked at him, raindrops mingling with the tears on your cheeks. “You walked out, Patrick. You let me fall apart. You let that word leave your mouth and then you just… left.”

“I know,” he whispered, as if even saying it caused him physical pain. “I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now. I’ve been carrying it around since I closed that fucking door. I wanted to turn around the second I left.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

His eyes searched yours, helpless and hollow. “Because I’m a coward. Because loving you means seeing parts of myself I don’t like. Because sometimes you look at me like I’m the only thing holding you together, and it scares the hell out of me. Because I didn’t think I deserved to be your person. Not when I couldn’t fix what was hurting you.”

“I didn’t ask you to fix me,” you said, voice cracking. “I just needed you to stay. Even if I was messy. Especially because I was messy.”

“I know. I know that now. And I am so—” he stepped forward, his voice breaking—“so sorry I made you think you weren’t enough. You’re not suffocating. You never were. I was drowning in my own fear and I lashed out like a bloody coward.”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it hard to keep it from fully quivering. You hated how much you wanted to believe him. How even now, after everything, you still wanted to run to him and bury yourself in the comfort of his arms.

But he saw it—the flicker of hope in your eyes—and that’s all he needed.

He stepped closer. One step. Then another. Slowly, like approaching a wounded animal.

You didn’t stop him.

“I miss you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I miss you so much it physically hurts. I miss your laugh. Your weird obsession with that ridiculous cardigan. The way you whisper my name when you’re half asleep. I miss us, and I know I don’t deserve to ask you to forgive me but—”

You reached out before he could finish.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, dragging him the final inch toward you until your foreheads touched. His breath hitched as he leaned into the contact, eyes fluttering closed.

“I hate how much I love you,” you whispered.

A single breath passed between you.

Then your lips crashed into his.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or pretty. It was desperate. Like kissing him was the only way to stop the ache in your chest. Like if you didn’t kiss him now, your bones might shatter from the weight of missing him.

He groaned into your mouth, one hand flying to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your soaked hair as he kissed you like he’d been starving. His other hand found your waist, pulling you tightly against him, like he couldn’t stand even a millimeter of distance.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured against your lips between kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You kissed him again, harder, your hands framing his face. “You hurt me,” you whispered against his skin.

“I know,” he said, eyes red, voice barely holding it together. “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, your fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. His breath hitched under your touch.

“I don’t want promises,” you said. “I just want you. Real. Scared. Messy. But here.”

“I’m here,” he breathed. “God, I’m so here.”

And then you kissed again slower this time. Painful in its tenderness. His lips moved like he was trying to memorize the shape of yours all over again, like every second he’d gone without you was being rewritten in that moment.

He kissed your cheek. Your jaw. The corner of your mouth. Your eyelids. Reverent. Apologetic. Devoted.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Even when I’m the worst version of myself. Even when you can’t see it. I love you.”

You let yourself fall into him completely, arms wrapping around his waist as he buried his face in your neck, holding you like he was afraid the wind would tear you from him if he let go.

And there, standing in the rain by the lake—two heartbreaks stitched together with saltwater and apologies—you knew you were choosing each other again.

Not because it was easy.

But because love like this was worth it

[moonyslipstick]

Fresh out the slammer

Patrick Feely was lying flat on his back, the bedroom dim and musty, thick with the stale stench of booze and damp clothes. The bottle of Jameson lay half-crushed under his shoulder blade, long forgotten. He didn’t care. He couldn’t bring himself to care.

Downstairs was hell.

His da was shouting again—something about respect, or lack of it. Something about someone not pulling their weight. The telly was blaring louder than it needed to be, his sisters huddled on the sofa like they could disappear into the cushions. His ma was clanging pots around the kitchen, wordless and worn down, too tired to intervene.

And him?

He lay there like a fucking ghost. Breathing, but not really alive.

He didn’t want to think about you. But Christ, that was a lost cause.

You were everywhere. In the cracked photo on his dresser. In the hoody still hanging on his door that smelled like the vanilla lip balm you used to steal from Penneys. In the song that had come on the radio earlier and nearly knocked him sideways with the memory of your laugh in his passenger seat, wind in your hair, fingers laced with his over the gearstick.

He hadn’t touched his phone in three weeks. Couldn’t bear to see your name. Couldn’t bear not to.

But tonight?

Tonight he was weak.

He called.

And when you answered after the third ring, his heart shattered all over again.

“Pat?”

Your voice was quiet. Cautious. Laced with the kind of worry he used to crave—before he started resenting it, pushing it away.

“Yeah. I’m… I’m grand,” he said, and even he didn’t believe it. “Just needed to hear your voice.”

A long pause. Then:

“Are you sober?”

He closed his eyes, swallowed. “Does it matter?”

“Yeah, Patrick. It does.”

“Don’t—” his voice cracked. “Don’t call me that. Not like that. You never used to—”

“It doesn’t matter what I call you anymore, does it?” you snapped. “You made sure of that.”

He flinched. His fingers tightened around the phone. “I didn’t mean to—”

“But you did,” you cut in. “You always mean to. You hurt me, Pat. Again and again. And you never look back.”

“I do look back,” he said fiercely. “Every fucking night.”

“Then why do you only ever call when you’re pissed and lonely? Why am I your rock when you need me and a ghost the second you’re sober?”

He didn’t answer.

“You’re not fair,” you said, voice trembling now. “You wreck me and then disappear. And I keep letting you come back. I let you ruin me because I love you and you know it.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I don’t want ‘sorry,’ Patrick. I wanted you. Sober. Trying. Here.”

“I know,” he said. “And I ruined it.”

“You did.”

A pause.

“I still love you.”

“Then let me go.”

Click.

The next morning came grey and heavy, rain slicking the city in a way that made everything look bruised. You didn’t sleep. You couldn’t. His voice had echoed in your skull all night. The way he said your name. The pathetic apology. The way he whispered I love you like it could fix the crater he’d carved into your chest.

You weren’t going to see him.

You weren’t.

You told yourself that all morning as you paced the kitchen, ignored your phone, and finally pulled on your coat to “get some air.” That’s all it was. Air.

But somehow your feet took you to the exact place you swore you’d never go again—the corner shop by Thomas Street. The one where he always ended up, shame-faced and half-alive, gripping a breakfast roll and a bottle of Lucozade like they’d soak up the poison he kept feeding himself.

And sure enough—there he was.

Hood up. Head down. Hair wet and curls matted to his forehead. He looked like a kicked dog. Pale, tired, shattered.

When he looked up and saw you, something in his eyes broke.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you,” he said.

“Neither was I.”

Silence.

He looked down at his shoes like they’d betrayed him. “I meant what I said last night. About loving you.”

“You don’t get to say that anymore,” you replied, tone sharp as glass. “Not after what you did. Not after everything.”

He took a shaky breath. “I didn’t know how to love you the right way.”

“That’s a cop out, Pat.”

“It’s the truth,” he snapped, suddenly angry. “You think I wanted to be this broken? You think I liked dragging you into the mess of me?”

“No,” you said. “But you did it anyway. You let me hold the weight of your trauma and then blamed me when it crushed you.”

His jaw clenched.

“I begged you to talk to me,” you continued. “To let me in. And you shut the door. Again and again. And now you’re what? Standing in the rain hoping for a miracle?”

“I’m standing here because I’ve got fuck-all else left,” he said hoarsely. “Because I’ve spent the last three weeks choking on everything I never said, and you’re the only thing I still believe in.”

Your eyes burned.

“Don’t say that,” you whispered. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

“I can’t let you go,” he said, stepping forward. “I won’t. Not without trying. Not without fighting.”

“Oh, now you want to fight?” you laughed bitterly. “You’re months too late, Feely.”

“I know. And I’ll crawl if I have to. I’ll grovel. I’ll beg. I’ll spend the rest of my bleeding life making up for what I did—just please, don’t walk away. Not for good.”

Your chest heaved with the weight of it all. The ache. The fury. The love that refused to die.

“I hate you,” you said, voice trembling.

“Then scream at me,” he said. “Tell me I ruined you. Tell me I’m a bastard. Just don’t pretend you don’t still feel this.”

He closed the space between you.

And when his hands touched your face—rough, trembling—you should’ve pushed him away.

But you didn’t.

Because when his lips crashed into yours, all that rage and sorrow melted into something deeper. The kiss was desperate. Angry. Full of teeth and tears. You gripped his hoodie like you could rip him in half and put him back together again. Like he might fall apart if you let go.

When you pulled back, breathless, he rested his forehead against yours, rain dripping off both of you like some kind of baptism.

“I’m going to get better,” he said, voice wrecked. “For you. For me. I swear it.”

“We’ll see,” you murmured. “You’ll have to prove it.”

“I will,” he whispered. “Even if it kills me.”

And somehow, standing there in the cold rain, soaked through and trembling, it felt like the beginning.

Not an easy one.

But a beginning all the same.

[msselfobsession]

[risipieces]

may some goddess of a writer make a fanfic about patrick feely x reader & make it include angst, tension, fluff, a bit of smut, and like wholesome moments (wearing his jersey at one of the matches and kisses him on the field after tommen wins), and happy ending.. FANKYEW

xoxo

[tayrausi]

hey how are you? how are exams going?

maybe i could request something with feely? i have such a hyper fixation on him its crazy! something fluffy smutty pls and thank you 💋

all for you

pairing: patrick feely x fem!reader

tw: it’s just smut

a/n: i’ve been on holidays mb for the content drought

masterlist !

you’re stretched out on feely’s bed, flicking through one of his rugby magazines while he’s down at the end of the room, pulling his jersey over his head.

“ya know, you’re not supposed to read those,” he teases, voice warm and low, hair sticking up in every direction. “they’re sacred.”

you grin, eyes sliding slowly down the planes of his chest. “right, because reading about fellas smashing each other on a pitch is deadly important information.”

“fuck off,” he laughs, tossing a rolled-up pair of socks at your face. “cheeky.”

he crawls onto the bed beside you, bracing his weight on his elbows, grin softening as his eyes drop to your mouth.

“ya look fuckin’ gorgeous,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across your lower lip.

“do i?” you ask, voice small suddenly under the weight of his stare.

“yeah. ya do.”

he leans in, kissing you gently at first — slow, sweet, all warm lips and soft exhales. but you’re arching closer, fingers twisting in his hair, and he lets out a low groan.

“god, i missed ya,” he mutters against your mouth, pressing closer so your chest is flush to his.

“i was gone for two hours, pat.”

“too long.”

he kisses you again, rougher this time, hands slipping under your shirt. his fingers are warm and a little calloused from rugby, gliding over your skin like he can’t get enough.

“ya sure ya wanna…?” he mumbles, eyes searching yours, breath coming quicker.

you nod, swallowing hard. “yeah. i want you.”

“fuckin’ hell,” he groans, dropping his forehead to yours. “you’ll be the death of me.”

his hands are already tugging at the hem of your shirt, and your pulse stutters in your throat.

feely’s fingers slip under your shirt, warm and a little rough as they skim over your ribs. his breath hitches as he lifts the fabric higher, eyes darting up to yours like he’s checking a thousand times if this is still okay.

“tell me to stop if ya want, yeah?” he murmurs, voice gone husky.

“don’t stop,” you whisper, chest rising and falling so fast it’s dizzying.

he lets out a low groan, pressing a soft kiss under your jaw before pulling your shirt off entirely. his eyes go wide, cheeks flushing pink as he takes you in.

“fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathes, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

you’re about to tease him, but then his mouth is on your chest, kissing and sucking gently at your skin. you gasp, fingers threading through his messy hair as he works his way lower.

he pauses, looking up with that boyish grin. “ya know i love makin’ ya feel good, right?”

“i know,” you gasp, squirming as his thumbs brush over your nipples.

“good,” he says, voice rougher now. “’cause i’m not stoppin’ ’til ya can’t even remember your own name.”

his hands slide down your waist, tugging your jeans open, and you lift your hips to help him peel them off. his mouth drops open slightly when he sees the wet patch already darkening your underwear.

“jesus christ,” he mutters, pressing a kiss just above the waistband. “ya this worked up for me?”

you whimper, biting your lip as he drags your underwear down and tosses them aside.

“look at ya,” he breathes, eyes glued between your thighs. “fuckin’ perfect.”

he settles between your legs, shoulders pressing your thighs apart as he leans in and licks a slow, deliberate stripe through your folds.

your whole body jolts, a broken moan spilling out of you.

“oh my god, pat—”

“that’s it,” he mumbles, voice muffled as he dives back in. “just let me take care of ya.”

his tongue flicks and circles your clit, switching between gentle licks and firmer pressure that makes your toes curl. one of his hands comes up to hold your stomach steady, keeping you pinned as your hips try to buck.

“feely, please—”

“please what, love?” he teases, pulling back just enough to smirk at you. his lips and chin are shiny, flushed pink. “tell me what ya want.”

“i— fuck, don’t stop,” you gasp, reaching for his hair.

“wasn’t plannin’ on it.”

he dives back in, faster now, sucking lightly until your thighs clamp around his head. he hums in satisfaction, like he’s proud of himself, and the vibration sends you spinning.

“that’s my girl,” he rasps, pulling back to press wet kisses along your thigh. “gonna make ya cum so hard, yeah?”

you nod frantically, too far gone to speak, as he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right while his mouth finds your clit again.

your vision blurs as you tumble over the edge, crying out his name, and he doesn’t let up until you’re trembling all over.

you’re still shaking a little when he finally crawls up beside you, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, hair a mess. he brushes a damp strand from your forehead and leans down to kiss you — soft, like he’s scared you might break.

“ya alright?” he murmurs, voice rough but sweet.

you nod, a little dazed, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt and tugging him closer.

“c’mere,” you whisper, and he obeys instantly, wrapping you in his arms like he’s afraid someone’ll come in and try to take you away.

“ya were unreal,” he says, pressing his face into your neck. “like… actually unreal.”

you laugh softly, fingers curling around his bicep. “you weren’t so bad yourself, pat.”

“i better not be,” he mumbles, tightening his hold. “gave it everything i had.”

he nudges your nose with his, brushing soft kisses across your cheek, jaw, the tip of your nose.

“d’you need water?” he asks suddenly. “or somethin’? i can run down and get—”

you shake your head quickly. “just stay. please.”

he exhales slow, relieved, and tucks your head under his chin.

“ya know i’d do anything for ya, right?”

your throat catches a bit at that — because he says it so easily, like it’s obvious.

“i know,” you whisper, burying your face into his chest. “and i’d do anything for you too.”

his hand rubs soothing circles on your back, slow and warm. he’s still a little breathless, body soft and boneless against yours, but his voice is steady.

“ya ever need anything,” he says, “you just tell me. i mean it. even if it’s three in the mornin’ and i’ve a match the next day. i’ll be there.”

your heart swells painfully at the sincerity in his voice. you pull back just enough to kiss him again, slow and sleepy, and he hums contentedly into your mouth.

“stay here tonight?” you ask, already half-asleep.

“of course i will,” he says, voice quiet and certain. “m’not goin’ anywhere.”

you fall asleep in his arms not long after, wrapped in the soft, steady warmth of him, his heartbeat keeping rhythm against your cheek like a promise.

[tayrausi]

spicy hcs for patrick feely? 🤭🤭

spicy headcanons

pairing: patrick feely x fem!reader

tw: suggestive/sexual content && thoughts

a/n: sorry about the long wait, gonna post some relationship headcanons as well to make up for it, dw

masterlist !

ᯓ★ he’s got that smug, cocky charm, but in private? he worships the ground you walk on.

he talks a big game, but once you’re alone, it’s all filthy praise and deep moans. “look at yeh, baby. takin’ me so well. knew you were made for it.”

ᯓ★ neck kissing? obsession. his mouth finds that one spot just below your ear that makes you melt, and he lives there. leaves marks on purpose. you’ll show up to school in a scarf and he’ll smirk like the devil.

ᯓ★ he’s a teasing menace. hand on your thigh during class. whispering things in your ear like, “if you keep squirming like that, i’ll bend you over this desk.”- and he means it.

ᯓ★ he’s got a thing for seeing you in his jersey. especially when that’s all you’re wearing. he’ll lean in, grab your hips, and say, “jesus christ, girl… yeh tryin’ to kill me?”

ᯓ★ he’s rough in the way you like- but always attentive. one hand gripping your hair, the other pressed into the small of your back to hold you still while he mutters, “you’re mine, d’ye hear me? no one else gets to see you like this.”

ᯓ★ praise kink meets possessiveness. he’ll go from “good girl, takin’ me so well” to “say it. say who you belong to.” — and you do, every time.

ᯓ★ aftercare king, but he pretends he’s not. pulls you into his chest, strokes your back, murmurs, “was that too much? d’you need water, love?” but if you tease him about it, he’ll scoff like he didn’t just make you a post-sex cuppa.

ᯓ★ jealous feely is intense. some lad even looks at you sideways and he’ll pull you onto his lap in front of everyone. “nah, don’t mind him, pet. she’s taken. happily.”

ᯓ★ he loves when you ride him. leans back with his hands behind his head like he’s at the cinema, all smug and lazy while you’re a mess on top of him. “go on then. show me what yeh can do.”

ᯓ★ his dirty talk is unreal because that dublin accent? whew. filthy little murmurs like “so tight for me, love… fuck, you’re squeezin’ me just right,” will have you ruined.

[thecutestshowgirl]

⟢ 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐄𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢 𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

⟢ 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚋 𝙴𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒 𝚡 𝙵𝚎𝚖!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

⟢ 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - 𝚆𝚑𝚊𝚝’𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝙹𝚊𝚌𝚘𝚋 𝙴𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚒? 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝?

⟢ 𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚎

⟢ 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 𝟻𝟷𝟽+

⟢ 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜! - 𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐. 𝙸𝚍𝚔 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝙸 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚛 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜…𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢! 𝚂𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍/𝚘𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜!!

⟢ 𝙼𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

You and Jacob became friends when he first came to L.A. You’re a California native that was a production assistant on the set of Euphoria and you guys hit it off. You’ve been close for so long that nobody, especially you guys, remembers when the line between “best friends” and “platonic soulmates” blurred.

You guys have your own way of communicating. He’s sort of a nervous guys sometimes, so you can tell a lot just by his glances and the way he picked at his fingers. And though Jacob a big guy, he is physically clingy with you in the gentlest, softest ways. He doesn’t cling to anyone else like that. From pictures people see of you two on the Internet, either captured by paps or fans, he always stands a little closer to you than necessary, looming over your shoulder, even sometimes caught with his eyes in your phone.

You’re the friend he trusts with everything. His anxiety, his insecurities, the pressures of fame. You’re his safe space, especially being someone who not in the spotlight. And he’s your shield. He’s protective without even realizing it, keeping you close in crowds, guiding you with a hand on the small of your back.

You guys were also so close that you tended to travel with him during his press tours. And traveling together is a whole thing. Jacob is a total menace in the mornings. He’s sleepy, clingy, and when you don’t share a room, he’s wandering into your hotel room with messy hair because with a stupid excuse just to plop down on your bed.

If you’re cold on flights, he gives you his hoodie without question, even if he’s freezing later. He memorizes your drink order and delivers it to her before you can even ask. You don’t even remember the last time you ordered a drink come to think of it.

Since he’s so tall, when you fix his collar or tie, he leans down so you don’t have to reach. Murmuring soft conversation or a simple “Thank you, darling.”

He likes when you tell him he did well. He lights up at your praise in a way no interview or compliment ever achieves.

There have been public moments that have broken the internet.

There was the footage of Jacob casually tucking your hair behind your ear at a concert, not even paying attention to the performance since his eyes were on you as you swayed to the music.

There was that time a fan asked for a picture with him and he pulled you into the frame without thinking. Also that time he handed you his coat on a cold night, while you guys were walking out of a restaurant and into the flashing cameras of the paparazzi when you were wearing nothing but a thin shirt.

And though there was never any official statement or a red carpet moment caught on camera, there was the one comment of a fan interaction. User said Jacob actually laughed softly at the question before saying, “No, no—she’s my best friend. But she’s my favorite person.”

[deliriousgrl-writes]

hii, I've never suggested anything on here, kinda nervous <: but I've wanted to ask if you could write something for Jacob himself with kind of more introverted user, established relationship, where he's sweet and tender with her and then, like, gentle dom..? :>

I HAVENT WRITTEN FOR JACOB AS HIMSELF BEFORE BUT HERE U GO :3 my fav tall australian boy!!!! warning: it’s long. idk why. it kinda just happened. um anyways… enjoy

every need//jacob elordi x reader

CW: size difference, established relationship, mention of fame/career, gentle!jacob, soft dom!jacob, reassurance, fem!reader, shy!reader, lots of soft touches, build up to smut, jacob tops, (kinda?) mentions of male anatomy, mentions of female anatomy, vaginal fingering, jacob really likes fingering you, lots of guidance from jacob, praise, kinda long idk, he talks you through it <333

“jacob, stop,” he heard you tell him, his brown eyes focused behind his phone as he secretly snapped photos of the way you were sitting. he couldn’t help it, finding you beautiful against the sun leaking through the curtains of his living room. his long legs were draped across your lap as you sat on the couch and he liked the furrow of your brow as you concentrated on whatever book you were reading. jacob was often taking photos of you—most of the time without your knowledge or at least until you’d catch him. you didn’t like being on camera or photos other people would take of you, but god, did he think you were always a vision. and a part of him didn’t want to waste the convenience of modern technology he could easily grab from the pocket of his trousers.

“m’sorry,” he huffed in amusement, wriggling his socked feet in your lap just so you’d look over at him—cutely annoyed or not, “all this time and you still won’t let me have my hobbies. bit harsh.”

he watched you have to bite back a smile despite his disruption to your reading, and he could see on your shy face that the thought of him, considering taking photos of you, a hobby, made you flush because he took photos of everything he wanted to remember. he’d noticed you were always quiet in your admiration of him, doing things for him without announcing it. it was the same for him, he thought, how naturally he fell into creating spaces for the two of you that he hoped brought you comfort. it was something he admired—the quiet calm you possessed against the chaos his life had become. and he made no mistake to tell you how much he craved your calm when he had to be away from you, his thumb on the call button beneath your contact any chance he’d get on press tours or in less crowded spaces of premieres. calling over texting something he preferred with just you.

when you shook your head and turned back to the book in your hands, jacob couldn’t help but distract you—clearly too busy in his admiration to accommodate the concentration you could barely have around him. he sighed, moving his feet from your lap abruptly and immediately moved his tall form closer, one hand reaching for your knee and the other tucked between you both on the soft couch. he somehow made his body seem smaller, long limbs curled up to be beside you. he inhaled your scent as he nuzzled his head against your shoulder and he knew he’d won—albeit against your will—when you dog-eared whatever page you were on and tossed the novel aside. his dark hair tickled the exposed skin of your shoulder and you could feel his lips press a kiss there, so soft you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t so acutely aware of every action jacob did.

“you can read when i’m gone,” he mumbled before raising his head to meet your gaze, a smirk on his lips, “right?”

you furrowed your brows at him, displeased at the reminder that you had to be apart soon and he grinned when he noticed.

“oh?” he mused, blinking at you through long lashes, when you didn’t speak, “y’know you could just come with. ya just have to ask, love.”

he watched your pretty eyes move from his gap-toothed grin to his own eyes, a frown on your lips as you groaned at him before suddenly reaching up with your hand and pulling some of the dark hair that had fallen on his forehead up, “don’t do that.”

“do what exactly?” he grinned, brown eyes knowing and fingers tracing a pattern against your knee now, shaking your gentle grip of his shaggy hair off, “i always have to ask. just in case.”

“no, you dont,” you protested, voice that whiny tone he liked even if another man would find it infuriating, “just trying to save your reputation as a serious actor.”

“first off,” he started, moving his body to cage you against the end of the couch, 6’5 frame and weight still somehow giving you the option to move if you wished, “don’t try to act like you’re doing me a favor, love.” he was still smiling as he moved his face closer, moving his hand from your knee to your cheek, like it was second nature to want to feel your flushed skin beneath his fingertips. “second off,” he spoke again, deep voice softening as the tip of his nose moved against your own when he lowered his head to your level, “i’d adore having you beside me every second an’ y’know it. you do belong, that’s just your head telling you otherwise.”

he said it like a simple fact and he knew you couldn’t deny it. you’d been shy and unsure of yourself from the moment he’d shown interest in you so long ago. jacob understood you though, not minding your homebody ways or how you preferred being alone, never the one for attention. he was sweet like that, not one to complain considering he found you utterly perfect. unfortunately, for you both, jacob’s whole life was under a microscope constantly.

he watched the way your lashes fluttered, pupils seeming to track his closeness. his mouth stayed hovered near yours, breathing you in again. his other hand slipped from where it was tucked between you both on the couch, fingers grazing up your side through your shirt—a soft touch that was comforting and coaxing all at the same time as he waited for your response and prayed it wouldn’t be self deprecating.

“i don’t know,” you finally answered in a sigh, closing your eyes for a beat. he pressed his forehead to your own in response, fingertips still on your cheek before he spoke.

“i know why y’nervous,” he whispered, deep voice lower just for you even if there was no one around, “all the people, being watched. it’s a lot, isn’t it?”

you listened intently, nodding slightly in agreement, your eyes were still closed and your forehead pressed to his own. your hand drifted from beneath you, your palm finding its way across the two of you and to his knee, the touch grounding in the close but safe proximity.

jacob titled his head slightly, breath against your own as his fingertips moved to gently trace your jaw, just enough for you to feel it. “you wouldn’t deal with anyone y’didn’t want to,” he murmured, a gentle insistence in his voice. your chest tightened suddenly. “i’d…i’d take care of it all.”

your fingers press into the skin of his knee a bit more, as if you were silently asking for him to continue. so he did.

“you’d be with me,” he whispered again, nose bumping your own again, his fingertips moving from your jaw to your chin, lifting it slightly as your eyes finally fluttered open to meet his.“never alone,” he continued, breath warm against your lips, so close but not enough to touch yet, “i’d make sure of it…i promise.”

you swallowed. “i don’t know if it—” your voice faltered, hand still on his knee as your eyes darted from his own, fingers moving against the denim of his jeans.

“you’d tell me if… if it was too much, yeah?” his fingers lingered beneath your chin, titling your face to his. he waited, nodding slightly, letting you decide before he spoke again, “then we’d leave. no matter where we were or…who was around.”

your breath hitched, fingers flexing against his knee once more. jacob’s brown eyes were earnest and gentle all at once, his touch on your chin tracing down to your jaw and then to the side of your neck, your pulse moving beneath his fingertips. “i’d take care of you,” he spoke again, voice low and a tad breathy as you seemed to melt from the feel of him against you, “every second. only what you want. what you need.”

every word felt like a promise from him. heavy with certainty and but never demanding. and then his head moved, face leaning forward to where his fingertips were against your neck, his breath tickling your throat as he continued. “you’d trust me to look after you, yeah?” he asked in a murmur, lips just barely against your skin as you swallowed.

your eyes were squeezed shut, a hurried breath leaving your mouth as jacob moved his lips along your throat—not fully there, not insistent, but like an option. patient. a decision solely for you to make. you nodded silently, knowing if you tried to verbalize your agreement, it would come out a whimper. his mouth moved just beneath your ear after your nod, his hand gently moving soft strands of your hair out of the way, sending a shiver through you when he rested his hand right at the base of your neck. sturdy but gentle. holding you but never forcing you still.

warmth spread across your limbs and he finally pressed a few slow kisses to your skin. you could still feel the weight of him pressed against you—tall, long, protective. jacob let out a low hum of satisfaction, gently guiding you closer against him. your body instinctively opened to the contact, your breath quick and uneven. when he finally lifted his head to meet your gaze, fingers tracing light circles on the back of your neck, you noticed a small smile on his lips. his eyes were hooded, corners of his lips upturned as he took you in—your reaction clear as day to what he’d said and how he moved.

“that’s it,” he whispered, his other hand moving lower on your side, fingertips just barely pressing into your hip, “i take care of you an’ you…you just let me, right? what y’need…s’my responsibility.”

his hand moved from the back of your neck, his eyes focused on the way your lips parted to make way for your fast breaths. anticipation thrummed through you. his touch was warm and steadying as he ran his palms down your arms, thumbs rubbing against your bicep then to where he held your forearm. finally, he reach your side, slowly coaxing you out of your sitting position to lay beneath him. you obliged, obviously, a jolt of pleasure running through you when he moved his hand lower to your upper thigh, deliberately pushing your legs further open so his tall form could be between them.

“yes,” you managed to whisper in response—to what exactly was left to be determined; his hope you’d come with him, his words about taking care of you, or maybe the way his fingertips just barely traced your inner thigh between your bodies.

jacob nodded, eyes darker as he flickered his gaze to where his fingertips were tickling the skin beneath one of the hems of your shorts and back up to your face, a look of desire on your features. “you’d stay with me,” he affirmed, eyes holding yours as his fingers went higher beneath the leg of your shorts, “wouldn’t ever leave you alone.”

he moved his head down to yours, holding his body up with one arm, his fingers dipping into the couch cushions between your body and the back of the soft surface. your knees pressed closer instinctively, a reaction to his warmth and the feeling of his body just barely against you from above—he made sure his weight didn’t crush you completely as his lips brushed your own. you could feel his lean body now between where your legs caged him and jacob couldn’t help but move his hand from your thigh to your arm, slowly pulling it to wrap around his shoulder and neck.

“mm. so perfect like this,” he mused against your lips, finally moving his other arm above your head as he softly pressed his weight onto you, successfully making you both sink further against the plush couch, “all mine, yeah? every bit of you.”

you could barely take it—the closeness, his reassurance, the way he felt against you. before you could stop it, you were moaning into his kiss, your fingers gripping his shoulder and trying to pull him even closer. even offering more as your mouth parted slightly. jacob hummed against your lips, lifting his head up then from your hurried movements as the hand beside your head moved to rub his thumb across your heated face.

“there it is,” he purred, his lips hovering as you panted beneath him. you tugged at his shoulder again, not wanting to slow down and wait for another kiss. jacob exhaled, his other hand holding your hip against the couch but not pushing, the action just enough to carefully still you as he whispered, “easy…i know. i know, love. y’want me that badly?”

you nodded, legs flexing slightly around his body as your heavy, quick breaths filled the space between you. you could feel the ache building between your thighs, the rush of heat pooling there too much for you to ignore. so you used your magic word, the one you knew jacob adored hearing fall from your lips in moments like this. “please,” you breathed out, the ending of the sound almost a groan as you squirmed beneath his lean body, “p-please.”

jacobs brown eyes searched your own after that, his thumb still rubbing against your temple with one hand and his fingertips on the other hand pressed a bit more into the skin of your hip, the muscles of his neck tensing. “y’want me to take care of you right now?” he asked, his words a bit more breathless than intended. he couldn’t help it though, jacob simply loved seeing you like this—body trembling beneath him, eyes looking up at him full of want, knowing it was just for him.

you nodded desperately against the arm rest of the couch beneath you, already feeling jacob’s fingers moving from your hip downward. jacob’s eyes held your own as your chest rose and fell with every fast breath, your fingers anxiously toying with the short, dark strands of hair that curled around his neck. as soon as you felt his fingers trail higher beneath your shorts, your breath broke, jacob taking the opportunity to press his lips to your own and taste your eager whine.

it was all the permission he needed, feeling all the wetness that coated your inner thigh as his touch went higher, able to feel the way your skin twitched for more beneath his slow movement. he lifted his head to look down at you, brown eyes narrowing on your own as they flickered from your parted lips to the glossiness of desire in your gaze. “shhh,” he whispered, the thumb of his other hand rubbing your forehead as his fingers stilled against your heat, “m’ right here, love. not…not leaving. i know. breathe with me, yeah? deep breaths. slow. slooow. good.”

your legs shook where they were around his body as you tried to mimic his breaths, a searing desire coursing through you from the sound of his voice and you had to hold yourself back from bucking against his hand, trying your best to stay still for him as he continued. “i’ve got you,” he assured, voice low and grounding while you burned for more of his touch. jacob could feel the heat coming from your skin, could imagine how swollen you were, they way you were aching, all the desire that was seeping from your depth. he nodded again, silently praising you for patience like he always did. suddenly, the pad of his thumb moved to press against your throbbing clit, not moving. “right there?” he asked, watching a shudder move through you as your brows knitted together with pleasure. a small whine left your lips again from the contact, muscles tensing as you anticipated more.

your eyes were glued to him as he started the maddening circles against your clit, the muscles in your legs twitching around his body. jacob licked his lip as he kept moving his thumb against you, watching every reaction cross your face before his head was dipping down. your cheek was hot against his own as his lips reach your ear, his deep voice a soft mumble against your skin and only making your grip on his hair tighter. “that what y’need? right there? christ—you’re so pretty f’me right now,” he breathed against your ear, a shiver through you contrasting from the heat building between your thighs as he ever so slightly sped up his movements, “that’s it…mhm. s’good, isn’t it? told you i’d take care of ya. always do, don’t i?”

your own response was a loud, guttural moan, your toes curling and other hand moving up to grab at his shoulder as every muscles tensed. jacob smiled against your cheek and he couldn’t help but stop for a moment just to run his slender forefinger through your wetness. it forced a gasp out of your lungs, hips bucking up for more as he gently spread your desire across you with entirely too much reverence for your liking, your body needy and impatient for his slow, careful actions. a sound escaped his own mouth then, right into your ear—a cross between a whine and groan and it nearly undid you completely. “feel that, love?” he breathlessly whispered, his forehead pressing a bit harder into the side of your head as his fingers seemed to dance across your very slick heat, “feel…feel how much you like the idea? mhm? how fuckin’ soaked y’are for me? how…how good it feels to be taken care of? so lovely. there y’go, just feel it.”

your turned your head slightly, chasing his mouth as his fingers moved against you, dragging your slick to the bundle of nerves that had you jolting with pleasure. jacob kissed you then, hot and wet as he let you devour his mouth. he groaned against your lips, finding your needy demeanor irresistible as your hips bucked. you chased his fingers, the sound of your desire between your bodies. you were dripping for him, his movements quicker before you felt him tease your entrance. jacob groaned again, the tip of his finger tracing your hole as you licked at the seam of his lips.

“need it, don’t ya, love?” he mused, deep voice cracking slightly as you whined for him, finding it hard to keep still when all you wanted was his fingers inside you. he twisted his hand, the tip of his middle finger just barely twitching at the entrance of your depth and a broken sound left you. “mmm,” he breathed, his dark eyes focused on your lips as pants left you, his hot skin against your own every time your head moved, “y’making such a mess. aren’t you?”

he twitched his finger again, moving barely inside you and retreating, your whines were more like pleading now as your nails dug into his shoulder through his shirt. “want this?” he asked, tone so gentle it made your back arch off the plush couch and further against him as he dipped the tip of his finger inside, “hm? that what y’need? tell me, lovely. come on…tell me and i’ll take care of you. shhh, jus’ breathe. yes. come on. tell me?”

“yes,” you pleaded, eyes glued to his own as your lashes fluttered and your legs flexed around him with every twitch of his finger, “yesyesyes. please. p-please!”

“so good,” he mumbled, finally pushing his finger inside, achingly slow, “that’s right. fu—fuck. you’re clenching, love. jus’ relax. there you go. take it. taaake it. relax f’me.”

and you did.

your moan was deep and guttural once his finger entered you completely. jacob’s lips were parted, heavy breaths against the skin of your flushed cheek and he groaned with you, voice breaking from the feeling of your wet, warm, spongy walls around his middle finger. he slid in and out slowly with zero friction, deliciously taking his time and silently reveling in your neediness. he knew you wanted more, always in a rush despite your typical patience in daily life; these were the kind of moments where he enjoyed taking the lead and grounding you. he never took advantage of his control—just insisted you turn off your mind and let him show you his care. internally, it made him proud of himself to know you trusted him so completely, his chest burning with his adoration for you.

jacob pressed soft kisses to the side of your face when he quickened the pace of his finger, your body writhing beneath his own. his own jeans were tight with his desire for you, but he ignored it easily—you were his main focus. of course he longed to be inside you himself, his toned stomach tightening at the thought. but he refrained, enthralled by the way you sucked his finger in and shivered with every brush of his lips as your muscles tightened.

your whines were becoming louder, heavy breaths and his name escaping you as his finger pumped in and out faster. it was a contrast to the gentle way he was brushing his mouth across your face, his free hand still by your head and fingers rubbing at the top of your hair soothingly. jacob surrounded you. his care, touch, smell, the weight of him on top of you—you seemed to drown in it all, and did so happily.

two fingers worked you now and you could feel the muscles in your stomach tensing, your toes curling as your legs threatened to squirm where they wrapped around his body. jacob’s voice only made it harder for you, every ounce of pleasure threatening to make your body thrash around out of pure stimulation. but he steadied you, relaxed you even when his voice broke and breathy groans of his own split sentences of admiration.

his fingers curled inside you suddenly, a very loud whine that could’ve been mistaken for a scream coming past your lips as he moved against the spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. “it’s there isn’t it?” he breathed against your ear, a press of his lips beneath it as he continued, your whines confirming his assessment. he knew anyways, always did. his long, slender fingers seemed to find every spot inside you that made you break easily. he gently twitched his fingertips against the spot, air leaving your lungs.

“i know…i know, sweetheart. shhhh. shh. feels so fuckin’ good, yeah? sooo good. gunna…gunna keep going. don’t worry. going to keep making ya feel good an’ take care of you. won’t—fuck—won’t stop.”

you were reaching a breaking point, the curl of his fingers inside you too much to bare as you cried his name. your whole body was shaking beneath him, every movement forcing your thighs tighter around his torso from above. “i-i can’t!” you cried, about to snap as your heat tightened around his fingers, both hands now gripping his shoulders as you fought to keep still.

“i know,” he murmured, raising his head to watch the way your eyes squeezed shut as you fought back screams, “you can take it. shhh, you can take it. just a bit more. hold on for a bit more, love. fuck—love you. it’s right…right there, i know. mmm. i’ve got you. got you. m’right here.”

your teeth clenched, the hold you had on his shoulders impossibly tight as you fought against your release—trying to listen to his softened, deep voice. jacob groaned again, getting off on the way you listened to him. the way you trusted him. he moved fingers faster, expertly rubbing against your spot between pumping out of your depth. it was a dizzying combination, making you curse and tense as you tried to keep it together.

jacob could feel how tense you’d become beneath him, even noticing how you seemed to hold your breath—so close to just falling apart. but you waited for his word. waited for his soft permission and he couldn’t deny you any longer. he groaned again, almost a whine, against your lips before he spoke:

“y’so good for me. sososo good. relax f’me and let go. let me see you let go. i’ve got you. let go. that’s—mmm—that’s it. that’s it. shhhh, let go f’me. fuckin’ gorgeous. so fuckin’ beautiful.”

your release was earth shattering, taking over you as he continued the movements of his fingers and drew it out. jacob groaned with you, unable to stop himself from swallowing a few of your pleasurable moans for himself as his mouth found yours. your whole body twitched and tensed. you saw stars and his voice was the only thing that kept you grounded.

when you came back to, his fingers were no longer inside you. he drew some of your release to your clit and gently rubbed, bringing you back as he kissed all over your face and jaw.

a small whine left you and he stopped his movements, your heavy breaths mingling with his own as he pulled his hand from your shorts and brought it up to caress your reddened face. the look on his handsome, sharp features was full of reverence and warmth. you caught your breath and blinked up at him with dilated pupils, one of your own hands moving from his shoulder to press against his cheek.

“still with me?” he asked in a whisper thumb brushing beneath your eye. you nodded and a small, gentle smile graced his lips, his gaze hooded as he leaned down to peck the tip of your nose. “need anything?” he asked, taking in your softening breaths as you traced his jaw with your fingertips.

you shook your head, body lax beneath his own as tiredness took over. “hold me?”

jacob nodded sweetly, adjusting his tall form behind you and trying his best to sink himself as far as he could against the cushions behind him, wanting to give you all the room you needed despite his height. you turned your body towards his own, face moving to nuzzle against the crook of his neck as he held you tightly to him, the sound of his breathing relaxing you more than anything else ever did. you pressed a kiss against his hot skin, holding onto him tighter before you whispered, “i’ll come with you…”

jacob answered immediately, a grin in his voice, “i know.”

you huffed, body shaking with laughter against him before he spoke again, a sigh leaving his lips as he tightened his hold around your waist:

“already got it properly arranged.”

hope you enjoyed <33 this was actually so fun despite my nervousness to write for him as himself lol it’s hard to capture his essence but i think it’s alright. aaaaa i love him ok bye!!

⋆.𐙚 ̊ my masterlist

⋆.𐙚 ̊buy me a coffee!

[godlynott]

⌁ thinking about… clingy!steve & clingy!reader ꒱

-

the air smells like popcorn, asphalt, and whatever cheap cologne steve sprayed on in the car because robin told him he “reeked of family video.” the sun’s halfway down, orange and lazy, heat still clinging to everything like it doesn’t want to leave.

somewhere behind you, a radio crackles with static and an off-key song no one bothers to change. cicadas are screaming like they’ve got something to prove.

steve is mid-story. arms moving, voice loud, fully committed, acting it out like there’s a full audience instead of six exhausted teenagers and one lawn chair with a broken leg.

“—and i swear to god, dustin let go of the firework too early and it just—” he makes an explosion noise with his mouth, big and dramatic, “—shot straight into the air like it had a death wish.”

“that is not what happened,” dustin says from the ground, already defensive, hands flailing. “it slipped.”

“you slipped,” steve fires back instantly. “on account of having baby hands.”

“oh my god,” max groans. “why are we still talking about this.”

“because,” steve says, pointing at dustin, “i almost died.”

“you almost die every week,” robin says. “that’s not special.”

you don’t say anything. you just step between his knees and drop down without warning, landing sideways across his lap like it’s the most natural thing in the world. like gravity pulled you there on purpose.

steve’s sentence cuts off mid-word.

his hands catch you automatically (muscle memory) one at your hip, the other sliding to your thigh to steady you. he looks down at you, blinks once, like he’s recalibrating.

“..hey,” he says.

“hi,” you mumble, already shifting, turning until your back fits against his chest. his legs adjust instantly, spreading a little wider to make room, knees bracketing you in. you tuck your feet under the chair, shoulder relaxing into him like you’ve done this a thousand times.

because you have.

he smells warm. sunscreen and soap and something unmistakably steve.

“you good?” he asks quietly, voice dropping just for you, head dipping closer.

“mmh,” you hum. “just tired.”

robin squints at you from across the driveway. “you literally slept until noon.”

steve’s arm tightens around your waist, possessive without even trying, like his body decided before his brain could interfere. his chin drops to the top of your head, lips brushing your hair absentmindedly, not even a kiss — just contact.

“you could’ve warned me,” he murmurs. “nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“you love it,” you say, mouth curling.

he exhales a laugh straight into your scalp. “yeah. unfortunately.”

you feel it when it happens — the exact moment his body settles. shoulders dropping. chest softening behind you. the kind of comfort that sneaks up on you and then refuses to let go.

“don’t,” you warn, already smiling.

“don’t what.”

“fall asleep.”

he scoffs, like that’s ridiculous. “i’m not falling asleep.”

he says this while resting his cheek against your head, eyes visibly heavier, thumb starting slow, lazy circles against your side, tracing nothing and everything.

you tilt your head back just enough to look at him. “steve.”

“what,” he says, eyes closed.

“you’re doing it.”

“doing what.”

“the thing where you pretend you’re listening but you’re actually gone.”

“i am listening,” he argues weakly. “m'just comfy.”

“that’s not an excuse.”

“it should be.”

from somewhere nearby, lucas snorts. “he’s out in five.”

“shut up,” steve says immediately, eyes still closed. “i can stay awake.”

“prove it,” robin challenges, grinning.

steve straightens a little, like he’s gearing up for battle. his hands stay on you though. “okay. uh. what was i talking about?”

there’s a beat.

“…the firework?” you offer.

“right,” he says, relieved. “so then—”

he yawns. huge. unashamed. the kind that makes his eyes water and his jaw crack, head tipping back dramatically.

everyone groans.

“jesus christ,” robin says. “you’re embarrassing.”

“i worked a double,” he complains, blinking slowly. “and she keeps sitting on me like this.”

you elbow him lightly. “you’re the one clinging.”

as if to prove your point, his arms tighten, pulling you closer until your back is fully pressed to his chest, no space left at all.

“because you keep trying to leave,” he says. “and i don’t like that.”

something in his voice — quiet, honest, unguarded — makes your chest soften in a way you weren’t prepared for.

“you can nap at home,” you say gently. “we’re surrounded by people.”

“they’ve seen worse,” he mutters.

“have they?”

“remember when i passed out on the floor at mike’s and woke up with dustin’s blanket and a permanent kink in my neck.”

“you drooled,” robin adds.

“that was one time.”

“it soaked throoooough,” dustin says proudly.

you laugh, quiet and breathy, fingers finding the hem of steve’s shirt, fidgeting there like you always do. he doesn’t stop you. if anything, he shifts closer.

steve’s breathing evens out almost immediately.

there it is.

“you stayed up until three with the kids last night,” you murmur. “but ten minutes with me and you’re done.”

he hums, half-asleep, thumb still moving. “because i don’t have to try with you.”

your chest tightens, sharp and warm all at once.

“that’s not fair,” you whisper.

“is too,” he mumbles. “you make everything quiet.”

his nose nudges into your hair, breath warm. his hand slides from your waist to your stomach, palm flat like it belongs there. like it always has. like it always will if he has any say in it.

you should move.

you don’t.

max watches for a second, then smirks. “do we leave? or is this like a wildlife moment.”

“don’t scare him,” robin whispers. “he’s fragile.”

“i’m not fragile,” steve mutters, barely awake.

“you’re literally asleep,” you say softly.

“resting my eyes.”

“you’re snoring.”

he smiles against your head, barely there. “lies.”

you sink back into him fully now, letting his warmth surround you, legs heavy, thoughts slowing. the world narrows to the steady rise and fall of his chest, the sound of his breathing, the way his arm stays locked around you like he might drift off the planet if he lets go.

behind you, his breathing deepens. steady. calm. gone.

robin watches for a long moment, something fond and gentle slipping past her usual sarcasm. then she shakes her head. you smile to yourself, eyes finally closing.

maybe you’ll just stay a while.

enjoy!

- rory <3

[undressyouwithmyeyes]

𐔌   .  ⋮ SPIT IT OUT! - steve harrington .ᐟ  ֹ   ₊ ꒱

summary: jonathan believes steve is still in love with nancy into which he’s clearly been proven wrong.

notes: not proofread, i wrote this at 2am lol 

content: just fluff, scenes used from s5, henderson! reader, fem! reader, mentions of blood…. that’s it i think (lmk if i missed anything!)

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it’s one of the most important crawls of all time and everything is gone to shit.

steve and jonathan were in stuck in the WSQK van, hopper lost and el now lost, you and dustin gone MIA, the wheeler family getting attacked, etc etc… the plan is definitely not working out at all.

steve tried to convince you to stay with him but you insisted on finding your brother, but ever since you left — steve still hasn’t heard from you which has kept him a bit on edge.

steve hops back into the van, grunting as he takes his seat. “well, this better be quick. our good samaritan’s turning sour, i think she might’ve placed me” “placed you?” jonathan repeated, turning his head to steve. “—stood up her sister… multiple occasions” steve mumbled. “great.” byers rolled his eyes, sighing.

steve sighs. “d’you get a hold of nance?” he questioned. “dads in an induced coma and her moms in surgery. they’re not gonna know anything for a couple of hours.” jonathan revealed, his eyes staring straight ahead at the hood of the van. steve looks over as jonathan as he spoke, “Jesus christ man.” bringing his hand to his head in disbelief. “yeah.” jonathan muttered softly. “what—you think we should go see her? at the hospital?” steve asked. “i mean, if we can get this hunk of junk moving” he added. “mmmh.. no, no, we stick to the plan. search zone G1, find hopper, find eleven and find holly” jonathan assured, a hint of hesitation slowly crept in. “right…” steve muttered

“just… that seems complicated. like, it might take a lot of time.” 

“okay?” jonathan furrowed his brows in confusion but his tone filled with annoyance. “y’know the hospital is on the way, we could just swing by, bring nance like — flowers or something” steve replied, a part of him was hoping that he’d see you on his way. steve was no longer looking at jonathan but his tone filled with concern with his friend nancy. 

“jesus christ” jonathan rolls his eyes, scoffing. “what?” steve asked cluelessly.  “i thought that tonight of all nights, you might just give it a rest.” jonathan gave out “give what a rest?” steve tilted his head. 

“this bullshit macho competition for nancy’s attention” jonathan accused. “what are you talking about?”

“—what am i talking about?” jonathan stumbled over his words in disbelief. “yeah…?” steve asked in confusion. “dude, ever since i got back from lenora, you’ve been constantly showing off for her. how you’re better than me?” he scoffs. “which is shitting enough on a normal day, but now her parents are fighting for their lives, her sister is missing and all you care about is giving her flowers. you selfish, chauvinistic meathead!” jonathan argued. 

steve scoffs. only if jonathan knew. steve almost wanted to laugh by how ridiculous byers was sounding. 

all of a sudden, beeping from the other van, the clear annoyance expressed on her face as she honked her horn. steve huffed, jonathan rubbing his eyes in frustration whilst steve tried to restart the van. “y’know what byers, you’re totally right.— me, worrying about my good friend, my friend, yeah that makes me the selfish one here. or maybe, just maybe, you’re the problem dude!” steve continues, the van sputtering as they argued. “because ever since you’ve gotten back from california, you’ve been acting like a paranoid pothead weirdo, and maybe if you stop focusing on her, maybe the two of you would finally be happy and you will realise i don’t like nancy anymore and i’m in love with y/n!” he shouts, turning the key repeatedly before the van finally turns on. 

steve pants in frustration, steve’s words repeating in jonathan’s head as he stares at the brunette man in shock.  when steve finally realised that he just accidentally practically spat out his feelings about you, he was taken aback himself.

there was a moment of silence before jonathan finally spoke up. “shit dude.. i didn’t know” he spoke softly. steve huffs in embarrassment. “yeah … uh- uhm.. you weren’t supposed to” steve avoided eye contact with byers. “look—i’m sorry if you think i like nancy, i can assure you i don’t. she’s just my friend” steve admitted. jonathan nodded. “sorry for accusing you of that.. and y’know — calling you names” he clears his throat awkwardly at the last part. steve chuckles and shook his head. “same-i’m sorry too” he muttered softly.

after another brief moment of silence again, jonathan’s smirk only grew. “so… you and y/n huh?” he grinned. steve blushed, and looked away. “let’s not do that right now” he swiftly dodged the question, movement behind jonathan slowly come closer, he focused his eyes to the see you and dustin walking up to the WSQK van with dustin’s bike tyres rolling on the hard ground. 

“you’ve got to be kidding me” 

[bruisedsoupp-deactivated2026020]

thinking about bestfriend!steve  ༝

it really did start with “just making out.” one tipsy movie night at his place, you’re both laughing about how long it’s been since either of you got laid, and suddenly he brings the idea up, “…wanna practice? like—purely hypothetical. so we don’t embarrass ourselves next time.” you roll your eyes but you’re already shifting closer. first kiss is clumsy and giggly. second one isn’t. by the third he’s got you straddling his lap on the couch, big hands squeezing your thighs, kissing you like he’s starving and you’re the only thing on the menu.

he’s the one who first suggests “prepping you.” says it so casually: “just wanna make sure you’re taken care of if some asshole ever gets lucky, y’know?” fingers you slow and focused on his couch, telling you to “relax, baby, i’ve got you” every time you tense up. he’s annoyingly good at it—watches your face the whole time, asks quiet little questions like “this okay?” and “here?” until you’re shaking and soaking his hand, whispering his name like a prayer.

the first time you return the favor he tries to act chill about it. fails miserably. you’re on your knees between his spread thighs, his jeans shoved down just enough, and the second your mouth touches him he lets out this broken “fuck—sweetheart—” and his head thumps back against the wall. his hand ends up cradling the back of your head—not pushing, just holding—like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he lets go. he comes embarrassingly fast and spends the next ten minutes apologizing and kissing you stupid.

after that first blowjob there’s no going back to “just friends.” now every sleepover has an unspoken rule: clothes come off at some point. he eats you out like it’s his new favorite hobby—spreads you on his bed, hooks your legs over his shoulders, groans into your cunt every time you pull his hair. calls you “pretty” and “perfect” against your clit until you’re crying his name.

he gets possessive in the quietest ways. starts leaving hickeys in places your work clothes can’t hide. when you whine about it he just smirks and goes “good. let ‘em know you’re taken care of.” you call him a caveman. he fucks you harder that night.

the first time he slides inside you raw (after weeks of “just the tip” torture), he almost blacks out. buries his face in your neck muttering “fuck, fuck, you feel—fuuck, baby—” and has to stop moving completely for a minute so he doesn’t come instantly. you tease him mercilessly. he punishes you by fucking you slow and deep until you’re begging, tears in your eyes, telling him you can’t take it anymore. he still doesn’t speed up—just keeps that devastating rhythm while whispering “yes you can, you’re doing so good f’me.”

you both pretend it’s still casual. you’ll be watching a movie, his hand will slip under your shorts, two fingers curling inside you while he pretends to pay attention to the screen. you’ll be making breakfast in his kitchen wearing nothing but his jersey and he’ll bend you over the counter without a word. neither of you says “i love you” yet—but he fucks you like he’s been in love with you since sophomore year.

he’s obsessed with coming inside you now. every time. growls “gonna fill you up, baby—fuck—gonna keep you dripping with me” while his hips stutter and he pins your wrists above your head. afterward he stays buried deep, kissing you lazy and sloppy, telling you to “just stay for a little while, yeah?”

you’re still “best friends.”

you just happen to be the kind that regularly fuck each other stupid.