#fairy!reader 𐦍

[222col]

Okay soooo this is my first time sending requests like ever— but could we possibly get some fairy!reader x stalker!art donaldson?

like it’d be similar to bimbo!reader x stalker!art donaldson but not at the same time???

like Art would catch on that another person was stalking reader and freaks the fuck out!

Cora please feed us 🙏🏼

fairy!reader x art donaldson

summary: art's not the only one stalking you, and he has to intervene

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw, stalking, violence

꒰ notes ꒱ didnt have anything planned for challengers anniversary, sooo posting this to make up for it <3 p.s thank u for the req bb!!

another night, in his usual spot. sat on the bench behind your dorm building, he’s forever grateful that you got assigned a ground floor room. and that you’re too fucking naive to ever close your curtains.

he always finds comfort in these moments, just watching you. occasionally snapping a few pictures, jotting down notes about how you spend your evening. paying attention to the clothes you have on, the new pictures up on your wall, which sheets you put on your bed this week.

he’s studying, in a way. learning every detail about you. art needs to find out everything he can about you, like his own personal project.

only something feels off tonight. he can’t explain it, but the air feels different. he’s more on edge, nervous. he’s usually calm, whenever he’s watching. knows his little airhead would never notice anyone following her.

he sees the flash before he hears any movement. watches your brows furrow as you peer out the window. art would never take a picture with flash, he’s not that stupid.

but that means— he’s not alone. his eyes quickly scan the area outside your window, anger already filling his body. who’s the fucking creep sat outside his girls window taking pictures?

and then he sees. hidden the bushes, dark clothes and black cap. professional camera in hand, makes art’s camera phone look amateur.

no, no, no— this can’t be happening. you’re art’s girl. his to watch after, to protect. how had he not noticed he wasn’t alone in his lurking. he’s been too focused on you, he hadn’t even noticed. how long had this guy been creeping on you? the thought makes art sick to his stomach.

his thoughts are going a hundred miles an hour, he has to intervene, right? he can’t let this weirdo have pictures of you. especially pictures of you in that little blue babydoll dress you sleep in. no, that vision is for art’s eyes only.

“what the hell you doin’, buddy?” he’s up and on his feet before he can register he’s moving. words leaving his lips before he can acknowledge them.

art sees the panic in his eyes, the light from your bedroom highlighting his features. he scrambles to hide the camera, no— not good enough.

he can’t even explain what came over him, art’s rarely one to raise his voice, let alone be violent. the camera is quickly ripped from his hands, crashed down on the floor. only then do you notice the boys outside your window, the sound of the smash echoing into your dorm.

three punches. a bloody nose. art’s staring down to his bruising knuckles, almost proud of himself being able to protect his girl.

“stay the fuck away from her.”

he almost laughs as he watches him scramble to his feet and run in the opposite direction. art never knew he was so intimidating.

leaning down to the floor, hunting through the remains of the camera. sd card in hand. what? he can’t have those pictures, but art can.

his head picks up, as he meets your eyes through the glass. for the first time, you’re looking back at him. art’s thought about this moment for months.

but he surprises himself. he always thought he’d be nervous, too shy to acknowledge you when your eyes first met. but he’s not.

art sends a simple wink in your direction, as he slips the sd card into his jeans pocket. he doesn’t miss the blush on your cheeks as he does. art has to force himself to walk away after, he can’t do anything to ruin the perfect moment that was your first meeting.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

[wherenymphsroam]

I READ DAD BOD LEON AND LIKE JDFKD imagine praising him and getting him all flustered and needy and just 😭 he is such a hottie I NEED HIM sorry im just a lil feral abt him

GRAHHHH YES !!!!

cw: leon finally in his retirement era ??? (probably not canon but we can only hope), chubby leon, older leon, body worship, very light scent thing, a messy blowjob, he’s insecure at first the poor thing, uhhhh not proofread <3

w/c: 1.5k

like, leon is sooooo relieved when he’s (somehow) allowed to retire. genuinely probably just passes out for a good couple of days, drowsy and catching up on years of sleep he missed for a month or so. takes things day by day, waning contentedly through different hobbies, interests, just trying to like…. find his personality back after basically becoming the governments dog for the most of his adult life.

and some things really like … don’t click at first.

that he’s not nearly as active without the physically demanding day to day. the mission every other month or so that sheds him of all his bodies resources, the ones that basically force upon him that consistently low body fat percentage. sure, he still works out because at this point, it’s weird Not To after putting in so much physical work for so long.

but he’s older now, his metabolism has changed. commercial gyms don’t exactly offer the same amount of intensity that his body is so used to having to work through. and naturally, parts of him grow complacent. he eats more, rightfully so. actually has the time to go out to eat on a consistent basis, and doordash is viewed as a god sent app.

he doesn’t really notice the pounds that have crept up on him until suddenly his favorite pair of jeans doesn’t need a belt to keep them up anymore. it’s when he tucks in his shirt for a more upscale night out that he realizes his button down is more fitted against him than maybe it was the last time he dug out his nicer clothes.

but once he realizes it, he shies away from it, avoids changing in front of mirrors. and when he starts refusing to change in front of you that you notice.

sure, leon was always attractive in your eyes. but it was never the muscles, the trim ‘v’ of his waistline that kept you around. you loved him, genuinely so. and to have him around more often, able to revel in some of the domestic things you couldn’t exactly soak up when he was still an agent? it’s like heaven on earth with him.

so when you notice the slight increase in his weight — the softness that begins to pad his strong biceps when he wraps his arms around you from behind, the extra bit you’re able to hold onto when you hug him — you don’t point it out. it’s welcomed, has you touching him a bit more than maybe necessary nowadays.

the first time he abruptly turns around when you walk in while he was changing, you don’t question it. it’s when he starts to dim the lights before the two of you topple onto the bed in a passionate display that you grow suspicious. your last straw is plucked when he starts coming to bed with a shirt on. an oversized one at that. he had never worn shirts to bed before, always complained about the materials feeling against him becoming irritating throughout the night.

he tries to deny when you first confront him. plays off the way the newfound pliant skin of his sides swells out over the top of his jeans waistband. shakes his head and makes a face at you, even goes so far as to roll his eyes when you reason with him, pointing out his recent ‘preference’ of keeping the lights lower when you fuck.

“I think you’re imagining this, sweetheart. I’m still sexy,” he reasons cheekily, trying to distract you with his cheesy nature.

“I didn’t say you’re not sexy,” you sigh, shaking your head. “You’re definitely still sexy. I’m just saying you look sexy with the extra bit on you,” you hum, leaning against the bedroom door.

it takes Leon a second, trying to allow ‘sexiness’ and ‘weight’ to coexist in his head. at least not in terms of himself. he loved women, all shapes and bodies and weights included. it was a no brainer to say that yes, your logic that sexiness could coexist with more weight was correct. but on him…? he’s Leon Kennedy. he’s not fat.

“Nor am I saying you’re fat, not by a long shot,” you continue, knowing all too well what that look on his face meant. the one he wore when he was thinking too hard about something.

he tries not to flinch when your hands reach out, capturing his sides. tries to stifle the sound that wants to escape when he realizes how much more sensitive the skin there is now with the extra weight. but the pounding of his heart and heat emanating off his body tells you all you need to know. so you continue.

you’re unashamed in how you explore how pliant his sides are now, in how you trace along where the firm cut lines of his abs formerly were. gently pinching and filling your fingers with the extra skin that lies over his lower abdomen, flattening your palm over the swell there and letting it fill your palm. his breath hitches, hands twitching at his sides, itching to slide your hands off him. he yearns to step out of your grasp, but knows that’ll be too telling. so he lets you continue, let’s you have your fun.

the button of his jeans pops audibly, and it’s clear that maybe he’s gonna have to let his favorite pair go pretty soon. but that’s okay. it’s obvious how okay it is when you slide his shirt up, up, up and out of the way. when your lips finds his sternum, trailing up and down its length before moving on to his pecs. silently appreciating how they’ve swelled a bit, how the hair that scatters across his skin has seemingly spread more. you tuck your nose in, inhaling him appreciatively when you slide your fingers under the waistband of his jeans, start to shimmy the denim down.

and oh god, you’re slowly lowering yourself, letting your lips ghost over his stomach now. you’ve grown sloppier, greedier in how you lick up the salt of his skin, bite into and suck at the pliant flesh. as if a fever had overcome you.

and really, that’s not all that far fetched of an idea. it was like you were seeing him naked for the first time all over again. except he’s softer, warmer… easier to paw and play with. responsive when your hands knead at his sides, his pecs. breathless and panting when he realizes his nipples are more sensitive for some reason when you drag the pads of your thumbs over them.

he could’ve gone bright pink when you ask him to strip completely. in front of the mirror no less. but he obliges, although begrudgingly. maybe a bit more hesitantly when you roll your desk chair over in front of the floor to ceiling mirror, instructing him to sit down. but that dissolves when you settle on your knees in front of it, as if sweetening the deal.

he doesn’t expect you to be so …. eager when you finally get yours hands on him. but fuck does he look good. softened thighs spread, the perfect mix between strong and soft in front of you. his soft cock, laid oh so prettily between them, ever so full balls nestled there. you really can’t help how quickly you find yourself burying your face into him, breathing him in and mouthing at his thighs.

your hands are greedy, so very greedy in how you grab at him. his thighs, the stomach that’s started to rest on them. his pecs you reach up to paw at when you realize they’ve started to create a crease between his chest and his stomach from below.

and at first, he doesn’t believe you when you tell him he looks even better like this. that if anything, you prefer him like this. doesn’t want to hear it when you try to coax him into repeating affirmations about himself, keeps his eyes off his reflection in the mirror.

but of course, he’s a weak man. you’re sat on your knees between his spread thighs, your ass practically begging to be ogled in those jeans.

and that’s what he focuses on at first. tries not to notice how you have to tilt your head slightly when you take him in your mouth, how you have to hold his tummy when you suck him off to keep it from inhabiting how far down you can get on his length. but as the heat in his body grows, as you get sloppier with spit dribbling down your chin, he has no choice but to look down at you.

and at that point, he can’t find it in him to care about the swell of his lower abdomen. he isn’t very worried about how much more space his thighs take up on the chair when you dip one of his balls into your mouth, licking and warming and soaking them in your feverish attempt to make him feel how sexy he is to you.

but by the time he’s coming ropes onto your pretty face, he finally gives in. finally obliges you fully and admits that maybe… maybe he was still sexy as fuck. maybe he did look better, healthier with the retirement weight on him.

[crypticchiro]

. * 𝓜oonlit 𝒩ights 𐦍

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after the sullys seek refuge in awa'atlu, neteyam stumbles upon a lone figure in the rippling waters shore at night, and then and there, something new blooms.

sully family x gn fairy reader

it was all a flury of emotions. One minute they are enjoying everything around them, their home, the fauna, their friends and family, and the next they're somewhere else unknown with new places to explore and new faces to see.

none of the sully's saw it coming. None of them could have known the sky people would have returned, and personally threaten them off their own home. But it happened. And it broke them all inside.

Jake couldn't fathom leaving his people, hurting his mate knowing the whole reason she would be upset, is because of him. He couldn't handle not blaming himself when his family was in danger because of him. And sullys stick together, so he rounded up his family and had then came to one of the toughest decisions.

∙∘☽𓍊𓋼༓𓍊𓋼☾∘∙

After their arrival, the metkayinas couldn't help but observe and crowd around them. the olo'eyktan had arrived and his tsahìk not long after. All that commotion had alerted a certain someone of the presence(s) and disturbance in the air deep in the forest of the island.

the figure situated on the tree jumped down, landing on their feet with a thud before rising up and walking down the faint path trail towards the opening of the forest, where the figure could see the ocean, the maruis, and the big crowd surrounding something.

. . .

You peaked around the corner of a marui closest to the edge of the forest, staring out into the crowd as you hopped and squinted, trying to get a look at what was in the middle of the commotion.

after what seemed like forever, the crowd dispersed and what was left were a group of omatikayans and a few metkayinas, who seemed to be guiding the family somewhere.

As you studied the darker na'vi, your eyes met with yellow ones as what you assumed to be their father staring at you.

quickly ducking back behind the marui, you turned around and shrunk your size, your shimmering wings fluttering at the forceful spin before you jumped into the opening of a small hole into the forest.

you breathed in quick panicked breaths, laughing at your situation as you used your wings to fly back to the tree you now call home.

"i almost got caught.. by eywa, that was scary" you spoke to yourself in quiet breaths before tuning in for the day, deciding you could go out and about later at nightfall.

. . .

jake scrunched his nose in thought as his eyes kept staring at the place where he clearly saw something sparkle in the sunshine rays. neytiri looked at him staring off somewhere, so she followed his line of sight only to not see anything.

"Ma jake, come, they are showing us our new home" she spoke next to his ear, jake turned and looked back at her before turning to look to where he was staring. "Yeah, of course, let's go" he smiled at her before picking up some of their belongings and following the young metkayina girl leading the way. its probably the tiredness playing tricks on me. I haven't slept in days due to our travels anyway. He thought.

Later on in the night, jake kept thinking back to what he saw, but he blamed it on the fatigue as he and his family settled in for eclipse.

∙∘☽𓍊𓋼༓𓍊𓋼☾∘∙

a few days after their arrival, settling in, learning the metkayinas way, and seeing what new things this place had to offer them, neteyam couldn't help wander off just before eclipse, bidding his siblings and the metyakinas who were with them a see you later, neteyam slipped into the shrubbery of trees as he marveled at the forest. It reminded him of home, and it calmed him down. Made him feel as if he was wrapped in something soft and he felt at peace with that.

He followed a faint trail leading to what seemed an open area of different colorful plants and flowers that complimented each other in color, all ranging from mushrooms down to daisy like plants. as neteyam kept walking along the path, eclipse had already dawned, and the faint trail had started lighting up with what seemed to be glowing tiny bugs who kept walking along the trail in a line, as if guiding him somewhere.

Neteyam stumbled upon an open area, a lot bigger than the last but this time it was an area filled with water, a lagoon layed in the middle as he walked up and crouched near the edge, smiling as he could see his own reflection in the rippling waters, along with many glow worms attached at the bottom of said lagoon.

he looked around his spot situated on the floor, marveling at the trees and at how nice the wind felt on his skin, before scouting for the other side of the lagoon where he stared for what felt like forever.

He was confused. Either metkayinans knew of this place and some teenagers loved hanging after eclipse, or his mind was playing tricks on him. But neither would have been the answer, because metkayinans, as far as he knows, do not have wings clear as day, that shimmer in the moons rays of light, reflecting off colors as they fluttered slowly and they most likely do not look like the sky people, nor is he tired, or fatigued, because he had plenty of rest the past few days.

his mouth hung open as he stared at the figure on the other side of the small lake, criss crossed on the damp grass floor, watching as they weaved flowers and vines together. his shock was short lived when the figures ears twitched when he went to get up slowly, their head snapping up to stare at neteyam as he stared back. He saw them scurry up to their feet before turning around and bolting, wings fluttering quickly, his eyes furrowing as he saw a bunch of shimmery dust fly around after their wings shook and then- they were gone.

. . .

You stood behind a tree closest to the boy. Truth be told you never left the area, you just hung around. Out of sight. hidden where you could now study the boy as he whipped his head around in search of you.

You didn't wanna leave so abruptly, but you were wary, you haven't met anyone other than your fellow peers residing in other trees and forests. but before you could start thinking again, you were interrupted as the boy called out to you

"Hello? if you're still here, i mean no harm. I just want to talk." you turned your head slightly. He sounded nice alright, and he seemed sweet. You don't know how but staring at his eyes as he looked around, you could see a form of sincerity in his eyes.

It was beginning to get a tad bit boring in the forest anyways, you could do a friend or two.

Stepping out from behind the tree as his back was towards you, you approached him slowly with confident steps, before you could tap his shoulder, he sensed something ways behind him as he turned around and stared down at you. You were much smaller than him. figures, you were a fairy after all.

neteyam stepped a few feets away, just so you wouldn't have to strain your head. "Hi. I wouldn't say you're a metkayina right?" He asked, a confused look on his face as he tried to piece if you were one of the sky people who had came with the RDA or what.

"no, I'm far from that really" you responded, deciding to tuck your hands behind your back as a way to hide your fidgety hands "are you..one of the sky people?" He asked again

"no, i don't come from earth, I've always lived here in pandora. Away from species far bigger than our own" you responded back "I'm what they would call a fairy, a being with the ability to fly i guess.. and being expertises at our favorite hobbies too." you added on, watching as his mouth opened a bit before he nodded "well, I'm neteyam, what is yours?" He smiled a little, accentuating his cheeks as they lifted up. You liked his smile. He looked sweet like that.

"I'm y/n, it's very nice to meet you" you gave him a smile of your own as you both descended back into the floor and talked for a while, getting to know each other and talking about what it's like here in awa'atlu and the jungle. before you both knew it it was already a little hours after eclipse.

"I have to go, my family would be worried I'm out this late." Neteyam said as he slowly got up to his feet, looking down at you as you too got up. "That's okay, take care neteyam." You responded back as he smiled and turned to where he first came from. Before he could fully leave, he turned around quickly "we'll be able to see each other tomorrow, yes?" He asked, a tint of hope fluttering in his eyes as you gave him a bigger smile " of course, you know where to find me" you said as your wings fluttered in slight happiness, letting out shimmers of gold like sparkles fall and descend. Neteyam had yet to ask what that was about, he wasn't very well versed in fairypedia but he let it go as he could ask next time.

Neteyam smiled at you and you could only coo internally as you thought how sweet of a smile he had. "Alright, goodnight y/n, i hope we talk lots more tomorrow." he turned around after giving you a wave, his body disappearing into the bodies of tree as he returned to his marui, and you could only mutter a goodnight for the dead of night to hear.

at least you have a friend now. Maybe you could make more.

━━━━━ ˖°˖ ☾☆☽ ˖°˖ ━━━━━━━

[222col]

fairy!reader x preachers son!art

summary: you were temptation personified to art, he can barely keep his purity ring on when you tell him you need to confess your sins

cw .ᐟ nsfw, religious themes / language

꒰ notes ꒱ happy easter looool <3

the cross sat pretty around his neck, purity ring around his finger, he was the object of virtue. always dressed smartly, ironed shirts and matching socks. he never missed sunday sermons, or bible study, or family dinners. art was the picture perfect christian.

he'd heard about other boys being tested, warnings from his father, or gossiping at his weekly youth club. but art never fully understood the meaning, until you.

art's father made him sit out of the sex education classes during high school, but he was shown one video by his mother from the 80s. christian propaganda mainly, warning children of the horrors of teen pregnancy and sex before marriage.

art had never even touched himself before meeting you, too scared to even try. the idea that he could see him performing lewd acts on himself was too daunting. the only orgasms he'd ever had were during wet dreams, in which art prayed and prayed for forgiveness the next morning.

everything changed when he met you. all wide eyes and exposed skin. the first time art touched himself was to the thought of your cross dangling against your skin, the curve of your throat, the freckles on your shoulders. he cried himself to sleep that night.

you were too sweet, too unaware of his perversions. art could barely meet your eyes, knowing that he'd done unspeakable things to himself in your honour. just the image in his head of your legs against the church pew made his slacks tight.

another night staying late at the church, cleaning up the aisles for his father. once finished with his chores, art takes himself to the final pew and drops to his knees. hands clasped as he speaks directly to him, all but begging to be freed from his corrupted thoughts of you. it doesn't seem to be working though, as he's growing hard at the reminder.

"hi, artie." your voice cuts him out of focus, head snapping up to you. picture perfect in your white dress, rocking back and forth on your heels, innocent smile on your face. "h-hi," he mumbles in response, climbing up from his knees to sit upon the pew. "what are you doing here?"

you shrug softly, sliding in next to him. thighs touching his, as art's breath hitches. "must have got my days mixed up," you murmur, voice like velvet as it hits his ears. "thought your dad was here for confession."

he knows he shouldn't. knows it's wrong, that if his dad heard the next words to leave his throat he'd be done for. but art couldn't stop them if he tried. "you could— i could— you can talk to me, if you wanna?"

you nod your head immediately, as though there was nothing at all wrong with his suggestion. "o-okay," he mutters, sitting up straight, in some attempt to calm himself. "whenever you're ready."

"bless me father, for i— should i still say father?" art's ready to return to his knees and beg you to. "whatever makes you more comfortable." he attempts to encourage, turning his head to watch you.

"bless me father, for i have sinned," you continue, hands clasped together in your lap, looking up to him, before turning your head to meet art's eyes. "i'm not sure if it's a sin, but— i don't think it's a sin, but i wanted to confess it anyway."

art's desperately trying to stay level headed, to not let his mind runaway with him. he's calm, encouraging you to continue, he's prepared for whatever you might—

"i've been touching myself, father."

oh, fuck.

definitely a sin. definitely concerning you don't know that. definitely made the blood run straight to art's crotch. he already had a semi before you said that.

"oh— i see— well, that's— um," don't say it. don't say it. "where have you been touching yourself?" art can barely get the words out without choking. to say that phrase, in the lord's house, his heart is beating like crazy.

"here," you murmur, as your hands unclasp and land over your panties. "oh—" art voice hitches, looking away as your hand sits gently over your heat. his lip quivers as he looks up to the ceiling, saying three hail mary's in his head before turning back to you.

your legs gently spread, hand beneath your dress, fabric hitched up around your thighs. art had been getting off to a picture of you from the picnic after easter mass for months, and now you're before his eyes with your hand below your skirt.

he knows he shouldn't take advantage, art's torn between assuming you're doing this on purpose or genuinely being unaware. he knew his parents were strict on his sex education, or lack thereof, is it possible yours were even worse. he's cursing himself out in his head for even having this internal conflict. all too aware any other boy would be jumping at the chance to see you like this.

"do you ever?" you murmur softly, free hand crawling up along the inside of his thigh. oh, there goes any form of conflict. "mhm," he hums, not trusting his voice in that moment. his arms spread out along the back of the pews, head falling back slightly as your hand ghosts over his crotch.

unable to stop the soft whimpers that leave his lips as you begin to palm him over his slacks, his eyes darting back down to watch your movements. gently to unbuttoning his trousers, the damp mark on his tighty whities prominent. his breathing is heavy, laboured, as your hand reaches below his boxers. "oh, my—"

the feeling of someone else's hand on him is otherworldly, incomparable to his own. the arm resting behind your head slowly moves towards your body, shaking on it's way. his mind clouded solely by desire as his hand snakes below your dress.

his fingers slip under your lace panties, exploring your slick folds, jaw slack as he does. he's too focused on the feeling of your hand moving up and down on him to realise he has no idea what he's meant to do, how he's meant to touch you. his fingers bump your clit in his exploration, eliciting a moan from you.

in assumption that was pleasure, he continues. his movements messy, rhythm off but the feeling of someone else's hands is so foreign to both of you that it doesn't matter.

art's eyes meet yours, his gaze absorbing the sinful look upon your face. engraving the vision to his memory, eyes trailing down to watch the rise and fall of the cross sitting against your skin as you breathe. the soft whimpers echoing in his ears, his own mirroring yours.

his ring is cold against your skin as his movements increase in speed, evoking more moans from your lips. art's knuckles are white, clutching the wooden pew. feeling the familiar tension in his stomach, your own orgasm quickly approaching.

"oh— hphnn— god!" incoherent mumbles are all art can muster, spilling his orgasm over your hand, pooling around the base of him, staining his boxers. his name falls from your lips as his fingers lazily push you over the edge.

sat together panting, coming back down to earth, hands both sat beneath each others underwear, not moving. his eyes half lidded as they meet yours, blush across both your cheeks.

it's minutes before art pulls his slacks back up fully, gulping down his guilt before he makes the sign of the cross and drops down to his knees in front of the pew. immediately following suit, hands still sticky as they clasp together in front of your chest.

"bless me father, for i have sinned."

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @bluestrd @appleaali @chrattvibe @tacobacoyeet @lexiiscorect @glassmermaids @voidsuites @donteventry-itdude @matchpointfaist @stanart4clearskin @s0ftcobra @artaussi @simmerinsauce @coolgrl111 @hrrysglitter @cinnamoncunt @elsieblogs @tennisthatcher @deeninadream (to be added)

[222col]

patrick zweig x fairy!reader where he just kind of corrupts her and when they're fucking he's like 'you're just so /stupid/' but he's smiling about it all the same

+ FAIRY READER AND PATRICK PLEASE

fairy!reader x patrick zweig

summary: patrick loves making you dumb from his touch

cw .ᐟ nsfw, creampie, slapping

you were the easiest girl patrick had ever gotten. too busy batting your lashes to notice the way he’d ruined you. letting him grope you in public, art’s seen your naked pictures more times than he can count.

you were so fucking cute about it too. always giggling away as patrick shoves your hand down his shorts during parties. pushing you onto your knees in locker rooms, he couldn’t give a fuck that there were still people in there. you looked too pretty with mascara running down your cheeks as you choked around him.

but nothing beat the feeling of you around him. cock drunk and drool dripping down your chin, letting him do whatever he wanted to you. high pitched pants, screams of his name, it was even better when art was in bed five feet away.

“so fuckin’ stupid, baby,” he smirks, hands boxing you in beneath him. cock pounding into you without a care in the world. head empty, filled with only his name. mindlessly nodding along to his words.

you’re always so complacent, patrick eats it up. saying the meanest things while you’re tight around him. “just need my cock, don’t you? nothin’ else.” he taunts, damn near splitting you open.

one harsh slap across your cheek wakes you up from the fucked out space he’s put you in. “hmm, yeah— hnnph! just your— your cock.” you finally answer, jaw slack as moans echo around the room.

“c’mon baby, bounce on it, know you like it.” he mumbles, dragging you into his lap. you’d like anything if he was telling you that you did. your rhythm was off, too dumb off his cock to control your movements. hands groping at the flesh of your ass, forcing you up and down on his lap.

one hand moves to your face, pushing your cheeks together. "such a dumb little slut," he mocks, he fuckin' means it too.

lips too squished by his fingers to murmur out a coherent response, just mumbles of agreement and a nod of your head. "couldn't live without me, could you, babygirl?"

"mm hmm," you mumble, pouting through his grip on your cheeks, shaking your head. his hips start to rut up into you, sounds of skin slapping loud in the small dorm. "know you couldn't," patrick grunts between thrusts.

"too fuckin' stupid." he smirks, both hands digging into your waist, forcing you to bounce up and down. his skin is sweaty, sticking to your own as his hips pump up into you once more. painting your walls white, he loves watching it drip out of your cunt. too dumb to tell him to pull out.

throwing your body down onto the mattress after he's finished, grinning at the wet spot forming on the sheets below you. god, he can't wait to fuck you again when art's back from training.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @khartalks @bluestrd @appleaali @chrattvibe @tacobacoyeet @lexiiscorect @glassmermaids @voidsuites @donteventry-itdude @matchpointfaist @stanart4clearskin @s0ftcobra @artaussi (to be added)

[222col]

fairy reader x riff lorton PLEASEEEEEE where he’s so mean to her a little but like the patronizing sappy kinda mean <//3 they’re so <333333

fairy!reader x riff lorton

summary: riff just wants to dance with his girl

cw .ᐟ hints at nsfw

“don’t wanna.”

the words are barely loud enough for riff to hear, but he does. clenching his jaw as his fingers tighten around your upper arm.

“don’t care if you don’t wanna,” he grumbles, voice rough but low in your ear. people are starting to take notice, of the subtle pull on your arm, the look of anger threatening his face. “we came to dance, so y’gonna dance.”

you could barely remember why you didn’t want to, it was a rare occasion you didn’t do what riff asked. but when you did, god, he’d make sure you knew he wasn’t happy.

pleading eyes meet his, and he almost feels bad. not enough to stop though.

“baby doll, don’t make me force ya.” he warns, grip growing bruising. he can feel the smirks on the fellow jets faces, you’re embarrassing him in front of his guys. if he wasn’t happy before, he sure as shit isn’t now.

another huff leaves your lips, pout prominent. riff’s had enough, pulling your almost limp body across the gym to the middle of the dance floor. “y’gonna dance, an’ ya gonna like it.”

lucky he’s a good dancer, he can manipulate your body to follow his. “bein’ mean.” you mumble under your breath, he wants to ignore it. act happy in front of the crowd, but you’re pushing him to the edge.

“m’not bein’ mean, girlie girl,” he murmurs into your ear, jaw still clenched as he twirls you around. “jus’ wanna dance with you.” his words are sweeter than before, and you can’t stop the way you’re body relaxes in his hold.

he knows he’s got you. holding back a smirk as he watches the subtle upturn of your lips, how your head has tilted down, attempting to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“wanna dance with my girl.”

giggles hit his ears, and riff knows he’s off the hook. you’re too easy, all he’s gotta do is call you his and you’re putty in his hands.

your hands move from where he placed them on his shoulders to wrap around his neck, fingers twirling through the gel coated hairs on the nape of his neck.

his grip loosens slightly, less bruising now he knows you’re not going anywhere. you’re staying exactly where you belong, in his arms.

© 222col. do not steal or repost my work without permission.

꒰ taglist ꒱ @lexiiscorect @bluestrd @appleaali @tacobacoyeet @donteventry-itdude @matchpointfaist @stanart4clearskin @s0ftcobra @artaussi @coolgrl111 (to be added)

[222col]

INTRODUCING... fairy!reader ˚₊✧

cassie from skins empty brain angel numbers too trusting frilly socks airhead soft bunnies picnics strawberry chapstick clairo batting her lashes

fairy!reader has the personality of cassie from skins

fairy!reader never realises when boys are being icky

fairy!reader who never has a thought in her brain

fairy!reader is happy letting people tell her what to do

꒰ notes ꒱ welcome to fairy!reader .ᐟ accepting reqs for this reader with any characters in the tags

[wherenymphsroam]

LUUUUUNNNEEEEEE :333

Got me thinking about Leon/Chris!!!

I want them 😭😭😭

MANDA !!!!

(oh my goodness this is so late we r gonna … ignore that)

but YEAH M STILL THINKING ABT THEM.

been thinking specifically abt…. like cuck leon. he will never admit it out loud, but he loves loves loves sharing his baby. loves watching and tracking every facial expression, every twitch and jump, every reaction as you acclimate to someone new.

but chris specifically? he’s squirming.

and fuck if he knows why, but there is just something about watching chris pull you onto his lap, onto his cock that pulls a whine from leon. and chris notices, of course he does — how could he not, Leon’s got you held against his chest. it’s like he’s fucking leon by extension in this position.

“try not to sound so jealous,” chris mutters under his breath, a strained groan as his pelvis settles flush against your cunt. it was no wonder why leon could never shut his mouth about you, your cunt was heaven.

“what’s that s’posed to mean?” leon forces a scoff, glaring up at chris through his lashes. it was almost cute, seeing the conflict etched over leon’s features. that furrow in his brow that begs to convey his attempt at preserving his pride. it still wasn’t easy, being honest about how much he liked watching the older man split you open on his cock. but you knew, if leons bulge rutting into your back had anything to say about it.

“come on now…” the older man chuckles as he hoists your thighs wider, thick fingers splayed firmly over your soft skin. “it’s about time we’re honest, don’t you think?”

chris’s gaze meets leon’s just as he pulls your thighs wider, wider until he’s sliding his hands to hold the backs of your knees, and he pushes. Pressing down until your feet dangle in the air, until your knees make contact with your chest, chris gives leon the best damn seat in the house. like this, leon is practically forced into seeing just how thick chris is, how much you were stretched around him. how fucking wet you are, slick glistening over the insides of your thighs.

“how long has she wanted this? huh?” Chris mutters, eyes trained on you. he’s talking to leon, sure. but everyone knows his inquiry is a double edged sword. his hips draw back, painstakingly so, ensuring you feel every damn inch as he withdrawals.

“told me all about hwo pretty she is, how fuckin- good this cunt is-“

and right back in he goes, pelvis mushing against your cunt once more. it’s obscene, the sight of the action, the way your cunt so eagerly swallows him back up. leon forces a hard swallow, doing his damn best not to audibly gasp when you keen beneath chris.

“I find it interesting you conveniently left out the part… about how greedy she is,” chris groans then, head bobbing with the effort of not letting it drop. he’s tempted to rest his forehead down on your shoulder, his body is screaming for him to smother everything you are, envelope you whole. but for the sake of leons view of you, he holds back. the satisfaction of watching leon see how you responded to him far outweighed the pleasured of taking what he wants.

“so tell me,” chris continues, biting back a growl. his voice is strained, his entire body tense. like a predator toying with its food, dragging out its eventual undoing.

“was this.. really your idea? or do we have a greedy little slut on our hands?”

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