J e N ?!

BrAt!

[jenislurking]

JEN! WtF R u DoiNg?!

jen/jennie/jennifer. eighteen. reader/yapper. rafe's stay at home bitch. jj's trashy surfer chick. 100 fictional boyfriends. the leo of all leo's. pretty grillz. felines. atl. the mall. drama queen. manifest ur reality. pink & purple. sprite! reality tv. pizza rolls. animal crackers. strawberry pound cake. glitter gloss. lip smacker. hip-hop/trap music. big latto. concerts. led lights. trashy digital cams. overly expensive bass boosted speakers. as if!

[heejunluvr]

hide and seek myung-gi x reader

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

↬ pairing: player 333 x reader

↬ summary: after killing thanos, myung-gi isn’t all there anymore. when he finally sees you again in hide and seek, the only way to calm him down is with your body.

↬ wc: 2,643

↬ warnings: blood, myung-gi killing thanos, myung-gi going mentally crazy, myung-gi putting a knife to your neck, distracting myung-gi with your breasts, blood getting on you and myung-gi while you fuck, unprotected sex, no prep, p in v, breast / nipple kissing, myung-gi bruising you, painful to pleasureful fucking, myung-gi covering your mouth, squirting, creampie, myung-gi calling the reader degrading names

↬ date: july 2nd, 2025

the only other time he’d ever noticed you was during red light green light, when that guy with the tattoos and muscular body started hovering behind you. extremely close to pushing you over.

myung-gi had this guy on his ass in a matter of seconds, the guy was in pure shock. his eyes wide, still partially in the air as the doll called out “red light!”

just like that, you heard the gunshot as if it was pointed directly at you. it felt and sounded like it at least. but it was the guy behind you who wouldn’t leave you alone for the entirety of the game.

“green light!” as you started to run again, you glanced over your shoulder for a moment. player 333 jumping over the guys body. was it him that had helped you?

yes. it was him. because all of the times after that, he always had this sort of stare towards you. as if he was protecting you from afar, making sure nobody was trying to hurt you.

there was one time where he saw gi-hun telling you that he knew what the next game would be, as you looked behind gi-hun at myung-gi, he was standing. tensed up. ready to run over at any moment.

you simply agreed with him, believing that he’d been in the games before. it could definitely help you to know what was coming next anyways.

once gi-hun left, and you turned back towards myung-gi. he quickly looked away from you, sitting back down on his bed. it was always those subtle little things you noticed.

the night after the second game, myung-gi had finally approached you. his face covered in bruises, his eyes determined to finally meet you and talk to you for once.

he held his hand out, “myung-gi.” he said softly. “i know.” you replied, smiling. “i’m y/n. thank you for protecting me during the first game.”

“oh.. you noticed that?” he rubbed the back of his neck gently, a small chuckle leaving his lips. almost as if he was embarrassed that you knew it was him.

“yes, i did. i had a moment to turn around, that’s when i saw you jumping over his body.” you replied, he glanced down at the ‘x’ labeled red patch on your jacket.

“you better be careful…” he said, “lots of people are after anybody that voted to end the games.”

you lifted up the fork you kept from that day, he smiled at you. “oh, i see.” he said, “i kept mine as well…” he showed you the fork from inside of his pocket.

“i’m not very strong, and i’ve never stabbed anybody before. i’m not sure how tonight will play out, but i’m also kind of worried…” you admitted, biting down on your bottom lip.

“hey, uh, i could stay with you.” he said, staring at you with an assuring look. “if it’d make you feel any better, but if you’re not comfortable i don’t have too-..”

“i’d love for you too.” you said, smiling. although the beds were small you both assumed you could create enough room to be close and he could keep you safe.

getting under the blankets with him was a strong feeling. your heart was pounding, your skin was hot. every moment you spent that close against his body had you feeling as if he was something more to you.

“you feeling okay?” you heard his voice and hot breath against your ear, softly spoken but sent shivers down your spine. you only nodded, swallowing softly. unable to audibly reply at the moment.

his body up against your back, your eyes unable to close and even try to rest at this point. you were so tensed up, your thighs felt heavy and so did your heart.

“what the fucks happening here?” you heard a voice, myung-gi quickly sat up. gripping the fork in his hand. you sat up as well, seeing thanosstanding beside the bed on myung-gi’s side.

“oh, that little bitch voted x!” thanos exclaimed, a pair of arms grabbing you from your side of the bed. you immediately noticed it was namgyu. he’d do anything for thanos.

namgyu had the fork up against your throat as myung-gi quickly pulled you away, pocketing namgyu’s knife and using his own to point towards thanos.

“oh, you little fucker!! that’s how you wanna play myung-gi?” thanos yelled, he grabbed your arm and pulled you up off the bed with him as he ran.

the lights we’re flickering, other people who had heard the commotion were already starting fights. you’d ran past someone who’d gotten stabbed right in the neck by a fork.

he was running towards the bathrooms, you kept up with his pace as he pulled you into one of the pink stalls. locking it frantically behind him, knowing thanos was right outside the door.

“what are you hiding for myung-gi? we can share her!” thanos said from outside the door, the sound of him stabbing his fork against the door for no reason at all was loud as myung-gi continued to hold your arm.

your heart was pounding against your chest, not just from running but the way he protectively held your arm. he pulled you close up against his body. his arms wrapped around you.

“everything’s okay.” he said reassuringly, holding you so close it had you questioning if maybe he was feeling the same feelings as you. like you didn’t want to let go.

you looked up into his eyes, his big brown ones looking back down into yours. you wanted to lean upwards, but you’d felt like he barely knew you. what was he going to think?

but then, he did it. he leant down, his lips pressing against yours. you were so shocked it took you a moment to close your eyes. kissing him back gently, and wrapping your arms around his neck.

after a moment, he pulled away. just looking at you, you were confused at first. but then he turned around, opening the door and closing it quickly behind him.

“myung-gi!” you yelled. not so sure of his fate after shutting the door. “lock the door!” he yelled, you could hear the sounds of him and thanos swinging punches at one an other, moving around quickly.

you did as he said, locking it. your eyes welled up with tears that started to run down your cheeks. falling with your back against the door and your hands covering your face.

there was a million different things running through your mind right now, but at the moment you really just wanted myung-gi to be okay. it was impossible to be so sure when both thanos and namgyu were after myung-gi at the same time though.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, he had just barely done the one thing you never thought myung-gi would do. he kissed you. you’d never felt so protected and so cared for in your entire life.

was it too good to be true? would that mean you were going to lose him now that you’d just barely gotten him closer to you. you whimpered softly, choking out small cries as you wiped the stray tears from your face.

that’s when you heard it. the gunshots from the guards. you quickly stood upright, slowly unlocking and peeking through the bathroom stall.

you saw him there. myung-gi. he was sweating, blood covered his face and neck as over top of him, his fork was inserted right into thanos’ throat.

opening the door slowly, thanos’ body collapsed onto the side of myung-gi. he turned towards the stall and saw you standing there. he swallowed.

“myung-gi?” you looked at him, quickly kneeling beside him. seeing the blood and bruises forming on his face. “don’t come closer, y/n.” to your surprise, he pushed you away.

“i don’t wanna hurt you too.” his eyes watered up with tears, you wanted to reassure him. to tell him you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. but he’d already stood up, running out of the bathrooms quickly.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　⋆ ˚ ۪ ⋆ ୨୧

after that sleepless night, myung-gi wouldn’t look over at you anymore. wouldn’t try to see how you were doing or protect you. he just stayed in his bed.

when it was finally time for the third game, you knew you’d be on your own again. that was the hard truth you had to face. you needed to be strong. that’s all you could to for yourself right now.

waiting in line as the other players drew a ball from the gum ball machine, figuring out if they were on the blue team or the red team. when it was finally your turn, you got blue, so you went to stand with the other blue team members.

after a while you had noticed myung-gi standing on the other side, with the red team. you swallowed softly. making your way into the area for the game so you could hide.

finding a room you thought you could stay in for a while without needing to move, you sat down on the floor. overthinking everything all over again.

“hide hide, it’s time to play. don’t let your hair give you away.”

sitting in the room for about ten minutes so far, you only heard screams from afar. when they finally got closer, that’s when you decided to stand up and move. but then the door flug open.

it was myung-gi. a knife in his hand. his tracksuit stained red, along with his hands and face. you backed up slowly, finding yourself against the wall. was he going to kill you too?

“myung-gi…” you said softly, trembling slightly. he stared at you, shutting the door behind him before walking closer to you. he looked intimidating, but he’d never ever looked at you like this before.

“wh-what happened? are you-..” he cut you off, his knife pushed up against your neck. you were shocked, you stared up at him with big eyes.

“myung-gi, what are you doing?” you looked at him, his eyes watered up with tears. “i-i killed thanos…” he cried. his voice trembling. “y-you had too.. he was going to kill you. it’s not your fault.” you said.

“then what about all the other people i’ve killed tonight y/n? was that my fault? because i’m pretty sure i decided to do all of those on purpose.” he said angrily, swallowing hard.

“i was only supposed to kill one person. but i went on a fucking killing spree.” he said aggressively, the knife against your throat pushing further.

“m-myung-gi…” you didn’t know what to say at this point. he stared at you with an angry and sad expression on his face. you did the only thing you thought you could do now.

slowly pulling your hand up towards your jacket, you unzipped it slowly. letting the jacket fall onto the floor as your bare stomach and bra was exposed to him.

his breath hitched, his eyes widening at the sight. tears running down your cheeks as you held his face gently, not caring about the blood on him.

he pulled the knife down slowly, staring down at your breasts before looking back up at you. he started to kiss you, it was fast and aggressive but so passionate. like he needed you, like he craved you.

pushing you up against the wall, he kissed your neck. the both of you not caring about the blood smearing onto each of your bodies. his lips pulled away, his breath heaving as he placed the knife underneath your bra strap. cutting it.

he did the same with the other bra strap and your bra fell onto the floor, his eyes lingering to your breasts again. he immediately touched them, making you whimper for him.

and then he leant down enough to suck each nipple, pleasuring you as you moaned his name and ran your fingers through his messy sweaty hair.

turning you around he pushed you up against the wall again, your ass sticking out as you pulled down your track pants and panties. he didn’t waste any time, throwing the knife aside and pulling down his track pants and boxers quickly, letting them pool around his ankles.

your track pants and panties were doing the same as he rubbed his cock up against your slit, coating himself in your wetness. you moaned a little, your breasts feeling cold up against the wall.

he wasn’t giving you any warnings or preparing you for anything, but it was honestly kind of hot in the moment. you really wanted him. especially since that night.

“mm, a-are you sure we shouldn’t wait? i’ve barely been prepped-..” he cut you off with the tip of his dick pushing inside your tight cunt. you whimpered softly, your clit throbbing and aching.

he didn’t want to wait. didn’t want to take the time to prepare you. at the moment he just needed to be deep inside of you. the pain stung as his cock pushed inside of you slowly.

“a-ah, m-myung-gi please…” you whimpered out, his grip on your waist only got tighter, almost as if he was bruising your waist and hips with his bare hands.

“h-hurts..” you cried, barely being able to adjust to his size before he was moving in and out of you. “you can take it, baby. just let me fuck you.” he said, your pussy gripping around him, strangling his cock.

you cried out again, whimpering and moaning. your cunt fluttered around his dick, pumping his cock like you were his own personal toy. he loved it, feeling in control of you.

“m-myung-gi please…” you cried loudly, hearing someone outside of the door, myung-gi quickly clasped his hand around your mouth. covering your sweet moans as he pounded you even harder than before.

you felt yourself become tighter around him, he knew you were close at this point and didn’t hesitate to let you ride it out as you squirted on his cock. he loved watching your squirt run down his cock and down your legs.

“fuck… good girl.” he praised you. you were surprised the person didn’t hear the lewd sounds of your sweaty bodies slapping against each other, and the sound of your wet pussy being pounded into over and over.

“you’re crying but your pretty little pussy still tightens around me. still squirts on me like that. you are such a slut for me.” he sent a sharp smack against your ass, making you whine.

“close…” he said, thrusting into you ruthlessly. you were moaning like crazy into his hand, it felt so good. you couldn’t deny it anymore. neither could your body. you needed him. you wanted him to come inside.

as he slowly removed his hand from your mouth, you cried, “p-please come inside me~” moaning as he pounded into you. “f-fuck.. you’ll drive me crazy if you talk like that...” he felt himself becoming far over the edge.

and then he came, groaning and grabbing onto your bare breasts. thick spurts of cum shot deep inside of you. filling you up. it was warm, you felt so full as he finally removed his dick from your pussy.

watching as his cum leaked from you. he quickly pushed two of his fingers up inside you, making sure the cum stayed inside of you. before pulling up your panties for you.

“now you can walk around filled with my cum for the next few days.” he said, smirking a little. “which means your mine now. and i’ll come and fuck you again whenever i want.”

he pulled up his pants and boxers, walking towards the blood covered knife on the ground and picking it up. standing by you. “get dressed, i’m gonna protect you until the games over. i don’t want anybody else seeing what’s mine.”

[bellatrixscurls]

group activities ii

part one here

pairing : fem reader x slytherin gang x golden trio.

warnings : SMUT. slight choking, nipple play, reader is a virgin, oral (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing, pet names, reader almost has a panic attack, talk of virginity and sex. lmk if i missed any! :)

summary : the slytherin boys have their way with you, but what about those who get left out?

a/n : i hope this is what you expected, feedback is greatly appreciated and needed.

────── ☾ ──────

the next days were a blur. you were not ignoring your friends any longer, but you could tell that they were treating you rather differently.

first, ron started to hold the door for you, theo brought you extra sweets from honeydukes and draco would give you his homework without you even asking.

what was happening? you were almost positive you knew the reason behind it all. so, whilst in transfiguration, you slipped hermione a note.

“can i see you after class?”

she looked at you, a confused expression on her face, but she nodded nonetheless.

you smiled appreciatively and went back to listening to professor mcgonagall, not remotely aware of the pairs of eyes following your every move: tom, mattheo and blaise.

they were concerned. well, they did have a reason to be - you weren’t ignoring them any longer, but you were acting rather differently, not really giving them the time of the day either.

“what do you think she wrote?” blaise nodded his head in your direction, nervously playing with his feather.

mattheo looked up, his eyes focused on the back of your head as if he could read your mind. but seeing that it was no use, his head dropped on the desk. “if only we knew someone who’s learned the art of occlumency.”

“she’s wondering why you lot are acting so unusual since that day” tom hummed, rolling his eyes as he neatly put his notebook back in his school bag. “and it’s legilimency, idiot.”

blaise winced incredulously as he looked back at his friend. “us? i’m sorry you wanna be picked so bad that you’re willing to act nonchalant and humble about it.”

“it’s a skill” he smirked, finally standing up to leave as professor mcgonagall dismissed the class.

“you know, sometimes i feel like we’re so alike” mumbled mattheo happily, earning a dangerous glare from his brother.

watching them whisper to one another, you shook your head - mattheo shoved his brother, who, as unbothered as ever, brushed a hand over his robes while exiting the class.

and you could bet you knew the reason.

“ready to go?” hermione’s soft voice pulled you out of your thoughts, her smile bright as she looked at you.

“sure” you returned the smile, ushering her out of the room with a hand at the small of her back. and once you were positive you were out of earshot, the other students already heading towards the great hall, you spoke up. “listen, i know how this might seem, but you’re the only girl in the group… what’s gotten into them?”

she sighed, using her middle and pointer finger to rub at her temple; this was a discussion she thought she’d never have to have again, not with another girl anyway.

“they… they want you to pick them. each of them wants to be the one to claim your virginity. to claim you.”

“to claim me?” you were beyond confused, you really didn’t think your virginity was such a big deal. at least to you it wasn’t. “have they done the same to you? when you were- you know.”

she laughed softly at your nervousness, gently rubbing your back through your robe. “have you met them? of course they did. but- well, yes, they did.”

your ears perked up at her hesitation. “but?” you questioned rather alarmedly. “but what, mione?”

she took a deep breath before speaking, and you hated how that made your stomach churn. “they were not as possessive back then. they weren’t aware how much it meant. because whoever it is that you choose to do it with, it creates a special bond between you. it’s the first person you feel comfortable doing these things with, the first who gets to kiss every inch of your skin, explore your body” it looked like she was in a haze, daydreaming of the day she’d lost hers.

“oh, i understand” you nodded slowly. “so… who took yours?” you asked even though you could already guess.

“enzo” bingo. and how could you not guess? they were practically always together, always looking out after each other.

humming, you fell deep in thought. how could you ever choose between them? they were all your friends, and you’d never forgive yourself if your decision would hurt any of them or make them feel left out.

so you shook your head, toying with the ring on her finger as you leaned back against the wall. “i could never choose, mione. i don’t want to. i don’t want this to be such a big deal, i just want to get it over with so we can move on and fuck unlimitedly.”

your words made her burst out laughing, softly biting on her lip as a few students passed, and she took your hand in hers, guiding you to to the great hall too. “if you want to be a part of this, you will have to choose. but they won’t pressure you, if there’s one thing that they hate is feeling like they pressured each other into doing something, especially sexual… you have time.”

you nodded and finally, reaching the table, you sat down between draco and tom. “good morning” you greeted softly as you started filling your plate, your mind wandering.

“hey, y/n/n” theo reached over the table to squeeze your hand, a sincere smile on his lips, before draco kicked him under the table, the older boy hissing as he glared at him.

you didn’t really notice that though, you were too busy trying to figure out what you were gonna do.

but the boys seemed to notice that. the way you, so absentmindedly pushed at your meal with your fork, the boiled eggs smashing and the yolk leaking out of them. “woah, what have they done to you, sweetheart?” enzo’s voice was teasing, but in his own soft, characteristic way.

you looked at him, and he frowned at the confused, almost lost look on his face. then back at your eggs, your meal positively looking like a crime scene. “sorry” your voice was soft, barely audible. “m sorry, i’m not even hungry. i don’t know why i even took them.”

your nerves were growing and everyone could sense that, hence why they all shared concerned glances and only tom dared to speak. “can you focus on me? look at me, please” his voice was not like anything you’d heard before. it was soft and gentle, and he placed a hand on your arm, his slender, pale fingers squeezing loosely.

looking up at him, you tried your best to focus on his eyes. his eyes were so beautiful, a gorgeous shade of a deeper blue, and you could swear that you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips, but he quickly regained composure. “do you want to go back to the common room? lay down on your dorm maybe?” he asked and you nodded, arm curling around his own as he stood up, taking you with him.

🤍

you all but threw yourself on the bed, the boys sitting around you - tom and blaise were sitting on the rug by your bed, theo on your armchair, all while draco, enzo and mattheo shared the couch.

“i’m sorry” your voice made them perk up, their expressions almost unreadable, but one thing was for sure - they would do anything to make it better.

“what for, lovie?” asked blaise, his hand twitching as he almost grabbed your hand, but decided against it.

you sighed, mind wandering back to the day before. you had done the same thing : you moped around on the great hall and they had to take you back to the common room. “i’m being a baby. i just… i don’t want to choose.”

theo frowned. “choose what, dolcezza?”

“between you guys” avoiding their eyes, you started playing with tom’s family ring, his hand on the bed just by your head. “i talked to hermione today, and she explained the whole special bond thing, but i… i like all of you. i don’t want a special bond.”

enzo blushed, trying his best to hide his face by leaning his head forward, chin resting on his chest. mattheo nudged him playfully, messing up his perfect hair and causing the boy to whine.

“oh, baby” draco’s voice was soft as he approached the bed, but not before slapping enzo on his crotch. before you knew it, the bed dipped slightly and draco sat by your side, looking down at you lovingly. “we’ve been stupid, making you feel like you had to choose one of us to be your first. we’ve done stupid things and you’ve almost had a panic attack because of it.”

you didn’t say anything, just looked up at him, and the boys all seemed to had gotten closer too. “i don’t want any of you to feel less important. i’ll gladly let you all fuck me.”

you hadn’t realized what you said before it was too late, and even you were shocked. the boys all looked at you like you’d grown two more heads, and you flushed furiously, cheeks now a deep crimson.

“is that right, sweet thing? look at her, boys” mattheo’s voice was taunting, his signature smirk widening as he took a few steps closer to you. “i believe this poor thing only wants us all to feel good, to be able to feel her tight pussy for the first time ever. how sweet is that?”

“so sweet” theo’s voice had turned a lot deeper, need present in his tone. he had that look on his face. the one you’d seen before, directed at you.

“whenever you’re ready, angel, and whoever has you first…” blaise grinned, his hand coming down to caress your voice, your chest rising up and down rapidly. “this pussy’s not going unruined.”

your breath got caught in your throat and you almost choked at the intensity of it all. heat pooled in your tummy as they looked at you, hunger evident in their prying eyes.

“i want it” it was a soft whisper, a breathless, needy confirmation. and when tom’s eyes found yours, you knew you were in for it.

he was usually the most composed one, but in these past couple of days, he’d shocked you. he could be loving, caring and could even lose his composure around the right people. you’d seen glimpses of it before, but never like this, never so vulnerably.

his eyes seemed to twitch, so subtle that you almost missed it. he finally standed, making you feel small under his gaze. “how about we get her wet first, boys? oh, wait-” you didn’t expect it, but in the blink of an eye, tom had pulled your skirt up over your hips, curling two fingers around the hem of your panties.

you were drenched. you couldn’t even get out the gasp that was hanging in your throat, because his fingers just felt so good on your throbbing clit. everyone was silent as he worked on you, spreading your wetness over your slit and holes. “she’s so wet already. what’s gotten you so wet, baby?”

finally managing to gasp and whimper needily, you looked up at him, and he smirked at your helpless state. you looked limp and he fucking loved every second of it.

“answer tom, pretty. he might just stop making you feel good if you don’t” mattheo came to stand at his brother’s side, one arm resting against tom’s shoulder, and for the first time, he didn’t push him away or make a snarky remark. “you know how he gets.”

you whimpered out a soft ‘you’ and that instantly made tom’s eyes sparkle. in a moment of weakness, his thumb started rubbing your clit, and before you knew it, mattheo started massaging over your hole with two fingers. it was a feeling that you could not describe. nothing that you’d felt before.

their fingers felt so good on you, far better than all those time you had gotten off on your own. “t-tom- matty, please” you cried out, your legs begging to shake from the pleasure you were receiving. the way tom was pressing against you, and how mattheo was so close to making you scream on his fingers - it made you dizzy.

“ow, angel” draco was still sitting beside you, his eyes watching you and studying your reactions very carefully. he raised his hand and started stroking your jaw, his cold fingers making you shiver as the boys continued their assault on your cunt, causing you to jolt when tom would occasionally press too hard on your clit.

you looked up at the blond, growing more desperate to have all of their hands on you, your nipples getting harder and achy by the minute. he saw the way you shifted, and when your hard nipples pressed against your white top, the corner of his lips tilted upwards.

“you need my hands, y/n/n?” his hand slowly made its way down your neck, squeezing at the base of it for merely a second before it slid lower. you shivered in anticipation and he carefully pulled your top down, freeing your boobs - you were not wearing a bra. he groaned. “fuck, what are you doing to me?” and he looked into your eyes as if he was really waiting for an answer, but unfortunately you couldn’t give it to him if you wanted.

truth be told, you had not planned any of this. it all just worked out in your favour.

he brought both his hands to cup your breasts, squeezing gently as he watched them bounce back to their original shape, nipples looking eager to be - licked, bitten, tortured - by him.

draco wanted to tease you, he really did. but you looked way too delicious, so he didn’t hesitate and started sucking greedily on your nipple, one of his hands squeezing and pulling at the other one. you could hear him, even if your ears were ringing due to tom and mattheo’s attempts to make you lose your mind. draco was panting, not wanting to pull away from your boobs for one second. it really was a sight for sore eyes.

“feels g-good” you moaned loudly and tangled your fingers in his hair, your attention finally turning back to the boys between your thighs.

mattheo cleared his throat and when you looked at them, tom was wearing an annoyed expression. “didn’t forget about us, did you?” he asked pointedly, and retracted his hand, leaving you squirming for more.

but before you had the chance to blurt out an apology, mattheo spoke up. “i think you’re wet enough, sugar.”

but he didn’t continue, he didn’t make you feel like you had to do something more than that. he left it up to you.

“i want enzo to eat me out” your voice was small and said boy looked at you in shock, that it almost made you take your words back. but before you could do it, he was already on his feet - ready to do anything you pleased.

hermione had told you that enzo was good with his hands and mouth, and you were doing nothing but trying to test that theory.

he looked beyond excited as he looked at your cunt. it was glistening with wetness and a bit of sweat, and your clit looked mouth-watering; it was so swollen and hard.

“you are beautiful” was all enzo said before he buried himself between your legs, his hands holding you as if you were made of glass. “so so beautiful, you look divine” his voice was breathy as he nosed at your clit, pressing a soft kiss there.

draco, on the other hand, was grazing his teeth against your sensitive buds, making your toes curl and your pussy throb at the sensation. his mouth was perfection.

sponging a wet kiss on his temple, a broken cry was ripped from your throat as enzo slipped two fingers inside you, much too easily. his tongue sucked at the bundle of nerves that was your clit, sometimes exploring your sopping folds. “so sweet” he mumbled against you, his mouth not once leaving your heat as he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot that made your eyes roll back into your skull.

“thank you, thank you, thank you-” tears were streaming down your face as you watched the other boys through blurry eyes.

mattheo and tom were jerking off, their cocks red and looking painfully hard, whilst blaise was watching the scene in front of him intently, and you did see his fingers twitching, probably needing to grab at you, but not daring to.

“kiss me” it was a broken plea that earned you quite a few confused glances, even enzo looking at you curiously from between your legs, not once resuming his work. “blaise- baby, kiss me” you whimpered, and kissing you he did.

he pressed his lips against yours, his hand gripping your jaw and holding you in place as he dominated the kiss. he tugged at your bottom lip and you whined, chasing his mouth. “so fucking needy” he groaned and smashed his lips against yours again; the kiss was messy, all tongue and teeth, spit glistening on your chin. “you just need us all, don’t you? you need us to please this desperate, perfect body of yours.”

his teeth sank into the underside of your jaw and you yelped in pain, your fingers digging into the back of his neck. “yes, yes i do!- i’m- i need all of you, i need you to make me feel good.”

“atta girl” mattheo spoke up as he tugged at his cock, his eyes moving from your cunt to your bare chest. “are they making you feel good, angel?”

you hummed and felt the knot in your belly about to snap, enzo now sucking harshly and bullying his fingers into your cunt at a pace that had your legs trembling uncontrollably, but fortunately draco was there to catch you. he placed a firm hand on your thigh, grounding you as he kept sucking and biting at the tender flesh.

“m gonna cum” you choked out and started shaking again, this time not even draco’s force being able to help calm you down. “please, please- i need to cum” you asked for permission, but you didn’t even know who was it that you were asking.

enzo used his free hand to caress your belly, his sweet eyes looking up at you. lost in them, you didn’t even notice when theo stood and walked over to you, his fingers forcing you to look up at him as he spoke lowly, his voice firm and steady. “look up at me when you do” he demanded and you nodded fervently, biting at your bottom lip.

in a matter of seconds, you were cumming. your heart was racing - so much so that it felt like it was trying to get out of your chest - you were sweating and your hands were gripping at anything you could find - draco’s shoulders, enzo’s hair, the sheets.

your walls spasmed around enzo’s skilled fingers, your clit fluttering as he sucked on it, refusing to let go as he moaned against you, his eyes rolling back as he started humping the bed. your cum was heavenly - the taste, how it dripped down his fingers, everything was pure perfection.

and what was even better? theo’s eyes were analysing your every move. how your lips pursed, how your muscles tensed - the way your eyes watered as you struggled to keep them open.

“you’re just perfect, principessa. you did so good” he praised as he leaned in, placing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

you breathed out a laugh as you tried to recover from your orgasm and the overwhelming sensations you had gone through, but you had little to no time to do that, because the door flung open and revealed the golden trio.

harry was more pissed than ever judging by the look on his face and his clenched fists, ron was just red with fury, and hermione just looked disappointed, her brown eyes seeming more dull than ever before.

“and what the fuck do you think you lot are doing?”

────── ☾ ──────

[kaciebello]

Animagus : Bunny

Slytherin boys texts genre: crack warning: me, I'm crazy note: I have made a kahoot about my sims game, i have officially lost it ( also bunny on Easter, look how original I am!) Navigation Masterlist

Taglist

 @lafrone ,@enfppuff , @rafegfs , @frogtape , @lovelyygirl8 , @catiwinky, @leeleecats , @ghostgardn , @justatadbonkers , @partnerincrime0 , @adreamingpendulum, @imobsessedwitholiviarodrigo, @happydragonfrog , @harvey-malfoy , @helendeath , @caffeine-addict-slug , @elltheawkward , @myunperfektstorys , @wnbweasley, @africancracker , @broadwaybaby123, @stardustsymphony , @luckycharmedpuff , @romantasyreader28, @chelawrites , @catching-fire-in-the-wind , @zubblebubble , @hecate-frenchfries  , @sunnyteume , @msslytherin00 , @blogfandom123 , @mandmilovehim

[jenislurking]

2 cuute!

[riddlesrizzler]

𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙖𝙡𝙨

summary: You hadn't meant for him to see it...

characters: mattheo riddle. shy! reader

warnings: maybe a little bit of mean! matt

word count: 2.1k

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟

It hadn’t started with anything dramatic.

There was no grand gesture, no moment where time stood still. No accidental brush of fingers or shared detention that changed everything. If anything, it started in the background-quiet and unassuming, like the way sunlight slowly creeps across a windowsill.

At first, Mattheo Riddle was just another name. Another student in the halls. Another face you recognized but didn’t really see. You’d heard the rumors, of course-everyone had. He was intense. Sharp around the edges. The kind of boy who looked like he was born with a cigarette in one hand and a secret in the other. He didn’t talk much in class, but when he did, his voice cut through the air like a knife-low, slow, and full of a confidence that made people listen.

You weren’t immune to it. But you weren’t the type to fall for a boy just because everyone else did.

No, your crush didn’t start until much later. Until you caught him in a rare moment-one that nobody else seemed to notice.

It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon, the kind of grey that soaked through your robes and made everything feel just a little heavier. You had arrived early to Charms, slipping into your usual seat at the back of the classroom, half-hoping to be invisible for a while. You’d pulled out your notebook, trying to lose yourself in your doodles-half-formed shapes and crooked stars and your own name written over and over again in soft, looping script.

And then you saw him.

Mattheo, sitting two rows ahead, head bent low over his parchment. Not lounging like he usually did, not smirking or joking or making lazy remarks under his breath. No-he was reading. Really reading, with his fingers pressed lightly to the page like he was trying to hold the words in place.

It was the way his brow furrowed in concentration, how his lips moved just slightly as he whispered something to himself-practicing, maybe. The way his dark curls hung just a little too long over his eyes. The tiny crease in his shirt collar. The ink stain on his thumb.

You didn’t mean to stare. You were just... curious.

And then, like he could feel your gaze, he looked up.

You froze.

For a breathless second, your eyes locked-and something fluttered in your chest, soft and uncertain. You dropped your gaze instantly, cheeks warming, pretending to be absorbed in your notes. But you could feel him looking at you. Not with the smug amusement you expected, but with something softer. Quieter.

That was the first time.

The first time you noticed that he wasn’t always storm clouds and sharp words. That sometimes, he was just a boy-tired, thoughtful, alone in a room full of people.

And after that, it was like you couldn’t stop noticing.

The way he tapped his quill when he was thinking. How he stood just a little closer to his friends than necessary, like he needed to feel they were still there. How his voice lost its edge when he talked to animals-how he lingered outside the Owlery like he didn’t want to go back inside.

You never told anyone.

You didn’t know how to say it out loud. That the boy with the sharp tongue and stormy eyes had become the center of your day. That your stomach fluttered every time he passed you in the hall. That you started carrying your notebook closer to your chest, just in case he might see what was written inside.

It wasn’t supposed to be anything. Just a crush.

But it grew, slow and warm like tea steeping on a cold morning-seeping into all the quiet corners of your day.

And you didn’t mean for him to find it.

You’d been scribbling in the margins of your Transfiguration notes, zoning out during one of Professor McGonagall’s more monotonous lectures. Your quill had a mind of its own-curlicues and looping hearts appearing without a second thought, a small cluster of initials tucked between the equations and diagrams. His initials. Yours. Sometimes side by side. Once, definitely with a heart around them.

It wasn’t like you planned it.

You’d just… thought of him. The way his eyes lingered on you in class, the way his hand sometimes brushed yours when you passed parchment back and forth.

And maybe, just maybe, you were a little bit in love with him.

But then, during lunch in the Great Hall, your notebook had slipped from your arms as you reached for an apple from the fruit bowl. You hadn’t noticed until it was too late. Mattheo had already scooped it up, flipping it open casually to see what page you were on.

And then he froze.

You turned back toward him, notebook in his hands, and felt your heart stop.

“No-Mattheo-” you stammered, reaching for it, but he was already grinning.

“What’s this?” he asked innocently, holding it just out of reach as his eyes scanned the doodles.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “It’s just-I was bored-it doesn’t mean anything-”

“Hmm,” he said, tapping the corner of the page where a large heart wrapped around the letters M.R. + Y/N. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

You made a desperate grab for it, face on fire, but he stood, holding it over his head with a smirk. “Admit it,” he teased, eyes dancing. “You’ve got it bad for me.”

“I do not,” you mumbled, practically glowing red, burying your face in your hands. “Please give that back…”

Mattheo chuckled, finally handing the notebook over with both hands up like he was surrendering. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll let it go…”

You exhaled.

“…For now.”

The rest of the day was merciless.

In Potions, he sat beside you and leaned close, his breath brushing your cheek as he whispered, “You gonna draw more hearts for me, sweetheart?” right as Professor Snape walked by.

In Charms, he passed you a folded note-just your initials drawn next to his in messy ink, with a little heart and a winking face.

You nearly combusted.

And in the corridor between classes, he cornered you by the windows, one arm resting against the stone wall behind you, eyes glinting. “You never answered me,” he said softly, leaning in until you were sure your legs were about to give out. “Do I get to be your boyfriend now, or do I need to earn a few more hearts first?”

You couldn’t even speak-you just squeaked and stared at his lips, completely overwhelmed.

He laughed-soft, fond, not mocking at all-and tilted your chin up gently with two fingers. “You’re adorable,” he murmured. “Seriously.”

And just when you thought he’d kiss you-just when your breath caught and your eyes fluttered shut-

He didn’t.

Instead, he stepped back, hands in his pockets, grinning like a menace. “Better start doodling, love. I want to see stars next to my name next time.”

And he walked off-leaving you stunned, flustered, and completely ruined for the rest of the day.

You stared after him, notebook clutched to your chest, and realized something very dangerous:

Mattheo Riddle had found your secret crush.

And he was never going to let you live it down.

The days that followed the notebook incident were torture-sweet, funny torture, but torture nonetheless. Mattheo had turned his teasing into an art form, and you, shy and utterly flustered, were his willing target.

It didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d looked when he found your doodles-the way his lips curved into a mischievous grin, the teasing sparkle in his eyes, the way his voice softened just a little when he almost kissed you in the corridor. It wasn’t just the way he made fun of you that got to you; it was the way he made you feel-like you were the only person in the room.

That night, you found yourself in the library, your notebook open on the desk, fingers hovering over the page but not quite able to put pen to paper. You tried to focus on your notes, but it was impossible. All you could think about were the words Mattheo had whispered to you, his voice so close, his breath warm against your skin.

You sighed, resting your forehead against the cool wood of the desk. Why did you have to be so obvious?

"You know," a voice said from beside you, low and teasing. "If you stare at your notebook any longer, you’re going to wear a hole through it."

You looked up, heart jumping into your throat at the sight of Mattheo leaning against the bookshelf, arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes glinted with that familiar mischievous spark as he glanced at the open notebook on the desk.

“I—uh, I wasn’t staring,” you said quickly, suddenly feeling like your whole face was on fire. “I was just thinking-”

“About how badly you want to write more hearts with my initials in them?” he cut in, voice so smooth it was almost dangerous.

You choked on a laugh, your hand darting to cover your face in embarrassment. “Mattheo, stop.”

But he didn’t. He came closer, until he was standing beside you, looking down at the notebook with that same teasing smile. “It’s cute, you know?” he said, tapping the page lightly with his finger. “I never thought you’d be into me.”

“I’m not,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “I mean-I’m not into you like that, I’m just... just doodling. For fun. That’s all.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

Before you could answer, he grabbed a quill, dipped it into the ink bottle, and began writing-his handwriting neat and precise-right next to your scribbles.

Mattheo Riddle + Y/N. Forever.

You froze. “Mattheo, don’t-”

“It’s already done.” He grinned, dropping the quill back into the ink bottle with a clink. He was so close now, standing just beside you, and you could feel his warmth seeping into your side.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, biting your lip, feeling both incredibly flustered and completely weak in the knees.

“Am I?” he asked, the smirk on his lips slowly fading into something more sincere. “Or maybe you just like it when I’m impossible?”

You tried to hold his gaze but failed miserably, quickly looking away as your heart hammered in your chest. “I don’t... know what you’re talking about.”

Mattheo’s expression softened, and for a moment, you thought he might say something teasing again. But instead, his voice dropped to a quieter, more serious tone. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Hide what?”

“Your crush,” he said, leaning down slightly, as if he were telling you a secret. “I can see it in the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention.”

Your face felt like it was on fire, and you could barely meet his gaze. “I don’t-I don’t look at you like that.”

“You do,” he insisted softly. “And I like it. I like how you get all shy and flustered, how you bite your lip when you’re nervous.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. How could you argue with him when he was looking at you like that-when it felt like everything in your chest was tightening and blooming all at once?

He took a step closer, his face inches from yours now. “So, what do you say, sweetheart? Think we could make those hearts real?”

You stared at him, heart thudding in your chest, feeling like every word was caught in your throat. He wasn’t making fun of you anymore-no, this was different. There was something real in his eyes, something soft and warm that made you feel seen.

“I-I don’t know,” you whispered, so quietly you weren’t sure he’d even heard you.

Mattheo’s lips twitched upward in a smile, and his gaze softened even further. He reached out, gently brushing your hair away from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. I already know.”

And with that, he kissed you-softly, tenderly-his lips lingering on yours for just a moment longer than you expected. When he pulled back, your entire world was spinning, and you could feel your heart racing like it was about to jump out of your chest.

“You’re adorable,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and affectionate. “But next time, maybe just give me a little more credit, yeah?”

You nodded, speechless, your mind still whirling from the kiss. It was so much more than you’d ever dreamed, and yet it felt so... natural.

For the first time, you realized-maybe Mattheo had known all along. Maybe he’d been waiting for you to catch up.

[deerfawnn]

a fic based on a

"I can do it myself" gf and a "i know you can but let me" boyf

would be so cute (with spencer obvi)

capable — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , reader is braiding her hair, a/n: haiiii !! hope you like this <3

You stared into the mirror, tilting your head slightly as you tried—and failed—to get a proper look at your reflection from the side. Both hands were tangled in your hair, fingers fumbling as you attempted to weave the strands into a braid.

It wasn’t working.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, loud enough to draw attention.

From the bedroom, Spencer paused mid-motion, the pillowcase in his hands momentarily forgotten. He glanced toward the bathroom, where you stood with your back to the door, still wrestling with that stubborn section of hair.

Dropping the pillowcase onto the freshly made bed, he padded quietly toward you.

You caught his movement in the mirror before he even reached you. A small, knowing smile curled at the corner of your lips as you met his gaze through the glass.

"I can do it myself," you said, though your fingers had already stilled, hovering uncertainly over the half-finished braid.

Spencer stepped beside you. His smile was soft, patient.

"I know you can," he murmured, already reaching for the loose strands slipping from your grip. "But let me."

You hesitated for only a second before letting your hands drop, surrendering to his touch. The moment his fingers brushed against your hair, a familiar warmth bloomed in your chest—something giddy and light, fluttering just beneath your ribs.

"When did you learn to braid hair?" you asked, watching as his fingers worked with surprising precision.

He hummed, brows knitting together in concentration as he carefully wove another section. "Did some research."

You snorted. "Of course you did."

A faint flush crept up the back of his neck, barely noticeable if you hadn’t been studying his reflection so closely. "I researched it because of you," he admitted, voice low, almost sheepish.

"Wait, really?" You nearly turned to face him, but Spencer nudged you back with a gentle press of his fingertips against your shoulder.

"Don’t move," he chided softly, though his lips quirked in amusement.

"Yeah," he continued, smoothing down a wayward strand before continuing the braid. "You braid your hair at least three times a week, and you tend to sigh at least four times while doing it. Figured I’d help you out." He smiled at you through the mirror, that warm, crooked grin that always made your stomach flutter.

A slow, disbelieving laugh bubbled up in your throat. "You kept track?"

Spencer shrugged, but the way his fingers lingered just a second longer than necessary betrayed his nonchalance. "I pay attention."

Your chest tightened at that—because of course he did.

Spencer Reid noticed everything, from the way you tapped your pen against case files when you were thinking to the exact number of sugars you dumped into your coffee.

You smiled to yourself, watching as his long fingers weaved the strands together. When he finally smoothed it down, securing the end with the hair tie you’d been struggling with earlier, you reached up to touch it.

"It’s perfect, Spence," you cheered, twisting your head slightly to admire his handiwork.

He ducked his head, that shy, pleased expression he got whenever you praised him. "It’s just physics, really. Tension and distribution of—"

"Nope," you interrupted, spinning around to face him properly now. "No nerding out. This was sweet. Admit it."

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it, fighting a smile. "...Fine. It was sweet."

A mischievous thought struck you. "Y’know," you mused, reaching up to toy with a loose curl near his temple, "I should return the favor."

His brow furrowed. "What do you—"

You didn’t let him finish. Grabbing his wrist, you tugged him toward the edge of the bathtub, pushing him down until he sat with an undignified oomph. Before he could protest, your fingers were already combing through his hair, separating a small section near the front.

"Absolutely not," Spencer said, though he made no move to stop you.

"Oh, come on," you teased, twisting the strands with far less finesse than he’d shown. "Just one tiny braid. For fun."

He groaned, but the way he leaned ever so slightly into your touch gave him away. "This is revenge."

"It’s bonding," you corrected, grinning as you secured the ridiculous little plait with a bobby pin.

Spencer looked—well, adorable. The tiny braid stuck out awkwardly against his otherwise tousled curls. You bit your lip to keep from laughing.

"You’re never doing this again," he muttered, but when he caught sight of himself in the mirror, even he couldn’t suppress a tiny smile.

(And if he left it in for the rest of the day, well—neither of you mentioned it.)

[jenislurking]

as a reader myself i can't imagine complaining about fanfiction.

heads up:: complaining about what you can't find under the x reader tags won't make it any easier to find. and also as someone who used to write...do you know why most writers started writing? because they couldn't find the content they wanted to read

so for the love of GOD PLEASE shut up about the lack or overload of smut or fluff or whateverthefuck.

writers aren't your fucking genies and all your fanfictions wishes aren't obligated to come true because you whined under 100+ x reader tags.

[reesespieces0610]

genuinely saw a post last week about how there's not "enough well written fics" under a certain tag and it really pissed me off because people use that tag DAILY. Tumblr is not a place for you to shame writers that are taking the time to pour their souls into their fics FOR FREE. If you don't like something shut up and move on.

[reesespieces0610]

I do think that POC readers should be able to critique lack of inclusion and diversity in the x reader tag. The amount of works that claim to be a reader insert but describe certain characteristics that only white people have is ridiculous

[jenislurking]

no i completely agree! the lack of poc x reader aligned fics is just so perposterous to me tbh. for instance , im black and asian but im pretty darkskinned with curly/coily kind of hair and i cannot stress enough the amount times i just swiped off a fic because of "your cheeks turned red" or "he ran his fingers through your hair" or some oddly vague but also oddly specific descript. of a skin tone that CLEARLY ain't dark.

there's so manyyyy other ways to say those exact things but make them inclusive, like i've seen authors say the readrs cheeks got warm instead of specifiying a color or even instead having someone run their fingers through my damn afro, they'll say something like they moved your hair or pushed it behind your ear.

not to ignore the hundreds of other races, ethnicities, nationalities, etc where they aren't included in fanfics. id love to see more black!reader or latina!reader or asian!reader and everything else and i think its really sad that theres such a lack of it and when people do write it, it gets buried under a shit ton of white-coded fics...

X READER IS SUPPOSED TO INCLUSIVE! FOR EVERYONE!

[hereforhalstead]

‘Fuck the polic-‘ A GIRL IS TRYING HER BEST OVER HERE

[deerfawnn]

HI!! LOVE YOUR WRITINGS YOURE INSANE!!! could i please request angst/fluff for spencer reid (later seasons) where spencer kinda gets mad at reader and she leaves his place thinking he’s super upset at her and something happens idk she gets in a fender bender or gets sick for a few days and has to go to the hospital but doesn’t answer when he calls bc she thinks he’s so upset he wouldn’t want to know and at some point he finds her in the hospital after he’s been going crazy because he couldn’t get a hold of her i’m so sorry this literally makes no sense i fear this came to me in a dream😣

accident - spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: established relationship , reader gets into a small accident, mention of a forehead injury / blood and a headache ( reader is fine though ), reader ends up in the hospital , argument between spencer and reader a/n: hai hai !! hope you like this <3

The silence in Spencer’s apartment was suffocating.

“I said I’m sorry,” you mumbled again, your voice barely above a whisper, fingers twisting nervously in the fabric of your sweater. The words felt hollow, even to you, but you didn’t know what else to say.

Spencer let out a slow breath, his long fingers raking through his already disheveled hair—a telltale sign of his frustration.

It had been such a small thing, really.

A misplaced book. His book.

One he had lent you weeks ago, one you had cherished, only to accidentally tuck it away in the wrong stack of papers. When you’d finally found it, relief had flooded you—until you handed it back, and instead of the soft smile you expected, his lips had pressed into a thin line, his words sharper than you’d ever heard them.

“You could have been more careful.”

The words stung. You hadn’t meant to be careless. You loved his books, loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about them, loved the way he’d underlined passages just for you to find.

But today, his patience was thin, his tone clipped, and now you stood there, feeling smaller than you had in a long time.

Spencer turned away, his back to you as he carefully slotted the book back into its place on the shelf.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say another word.

Your chest ached.

Swallowing hard, you grabbed your bag from the couch, your jacket slipping silently over your shoulders. “I’m going home,” you murmured, unsure if he even heard you.

But the sharp click of the door behind you? That, he definitely heard.

The sound made him freeze.

For a long moment, Spencer stood there, staring blankly at the spines of his books, his breath uneven. Then, with a heavy sigh, he sank onto the couch, dragging a hand down his face.

What was wrong with him?

It wasn’t about the book. Not really. It had been a long day—no, a long week—of dead ends and sleepless nights on the case, of too much coffee and too little patience. And instead of dealing with it like an adult, he’d taken it out on you. The one person who had done nothing but be kind to him.

Guilt settled deep in his stomach, cold and nauseating.

Outside, the engine of your car rumbled to life. You were leaving. Because of him. Because he couldn’t keep his frustration in check.

Spencer’s throat tightened.

He should call you. Should run after you. Should fix this.

But his pride—or maybe his shame—kept him rooted in place.

Meanwhile, you gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, the streetlights blurring as you blinked back the burn in your eyes. You didn’t want to leave. You hated leaving things like this. But you hated upsetting him even more, and right now, space seemed like the only option.

You just hoped he knew you hadn’t meant to let him down.

An hour later, you were in the hospital.

It wasn’t anything serious—just a fender bender, a stupid accident born from exhaustion and bad luck. The woman behind you had been just as distracted, just as worn thin by the day, except she hadn’t braked in time. The impact had been sharp, sudden, your seatbelt locking as your forehead struck the steering wheel with a dull thud.

You’d assured the other driver you were fine, even as warm blood trickled down your temple. And now here you were, lying on a stiff hospital bed, the antiseptic sting of the air making your nose wrinkle.

The lights overhead were too bright, drilling into your already pounding head, and you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the throbbing to ease.

What a night.

Your phone buzzed against the bedside table. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was.

Spencer.

Of course it was Spencer.

You stared at the screen, his name flashing insistently, the call vibrating through the hospital room. Part of you wanted to answer, to hear his voice—even if it was still edged with frustration. But the other part, the stubborn, bruised part of you, hesitated.

He’d had a hard enough night already. You weren’t going to add to that.

So you didn’t decline. Didn’t accept. Just let it ring.

The call eventually went to voicemail. The room settled back into quiet.

You exhaled slowly, pressing the heel of your hand to your forehead—gently, careful of the fresh bandages—and tried to ignore the hollow pang in your chest.

Time dragged. The hospital was busy tonight—understaffed, overworked—and what should have been a quick check-up turned into an endless wait. You stared at the ceiling, counting the speckled tiles, listening to the distant beeping of machines and the muffled voices of nurses rushing by. Your phone sat silent beside you. You wondered if Spencer had given up. If he thought you were ignoring him on purpose.

Then—

"Which one?" The voice cut through the noise of the ER.

His voice.

A nurse murmured something in response, and before you could even sit up properly, the curtain around your bed was yanked aside with too much force, the rings screeching against the metal rod.

Spencer stood there, breathing hard, his hair even more disheveled than before, like he’d been running his hands through it the entire way here. His eyes locked onto yours, then dropped to the bandage on your forehead, the dried blood at your hairline that the nurses hadn’t quite wiped away.

His expression did something complicated—guilt, fear, anger (at himself, always at himself)—before settling into something painfully soft.

You swallowed.

"Fender bender," you mumbled lamely, as if that explained everything.

His throat worked as he swallowed. "You should've called me immediately," he whispered, taking another step closer. The fluorescent lights caught the dark circles under his eyes, the way his cardigan was buttoned wrong - one side higher than the other. He must have thrown it on in a hurry.

You shrugged, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at the bandage. "You had a bad day. I didn't want to make it worse."

Spencer made a wounded noise in the back of his throat, his hands finally lifting to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing feather-light beneath your eyes. "That doesn't matter. You matter. You're bleeding in a hospital and I—" His voice cracked. "How could you think I wouldn't want to know?"

A beat of silence.

Then, because you had to know: "How did you even find me?"

The ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Garcia."

Of course.

"When you didn't answer... I may have panicked. Slightly." His fingers traced the edge of your bandage with heartbreaking gentleness. "She tracked your phone. I owe her approximately twelve favors now."

You huffed a laugh, then immediately regretted it when your head throbbed. Spencer's expression darkened with concern.

"Hey," you said softly, catching one of his restless hands. "I'm okay. Really."

He didn't look convinced. "You're in a hospital bed."

"And you're here," you countered, squeezing his fingers. "That helps."

Spencer exhaled shakily. "Never do that again," he murmured. "Walk out, not call me, take the blame for my bad mood... Any of it."

You closed your eyes, breathing him in - the familiar scent of old books and that terrible cheap coffee he loved. "Only if you promise to talk to me next time instead of biting my head off over a book."

A pause. Then, quiet you almost missed it: "Deal."

The discharge papers took forever.

You sat on the edge of the hospital bed, swinging your legs slightly while Spencer hovered like an anxious shadow, reading every line of the doctor’s instructions twice before reluctantly letting you sign them. His fingers kept twitching toward you—adjusting the collar of your jacket, brushing imaginary lint from your sleeve—as if he needed constant proof you were really there, really okay.

The nurse handed you a packet of aftercare instructions with a knowing smile. “Someone’s eager to get you home,” she murmured, nodding toward Spencer, who was already holding your bag and car keys like a man prepared to carry you out of here himself.

You flushed.

The ride home was quiet. Spencer drove with one hand on the wheel, the other clasped firmly around yours, his thumb tracing absent circles against your skin every time you hit a red light.

You watched the way his jaw clenched whenever you shifted in your seat, how his eyes flickered to you every few seconds like he needed visual confirmation you were still there.

"You're staring," he murmured, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

"Am not," you lied, even as your fingers tightened around his.

The apartment was dark when you arrived, the book still sitting innocently on the shelf where he'd placed it earlier. Spencer hovered as you toed off your shoes, his hands fluttering near your elbows like he wasn't quite sure where to put them.

"Sit," he ordered gently, nudging you toward the couch. "I'll make tea."

You wanted to argue—you weren't an invalid, just a little banged up—but the way his voice cracked on the last word had you sinking obediently into the cushions.

Through the kitchen doorway, you watched him move with frantic precision: boiling water, selecting chamomile (your favorite), digging through drawers for the honey bear he kept just for you. His hands shook when he poured.

When he returned, he didn't hand you the mug right away. Instead, he knelt before you, his knees hitting the carpet with a soft thud. The vulnerability of the position stole your breath.

"I was an idiot today," he said, pressing the warm ceramic into your hands. His eyes were liquid in the low light. "Not just about the book. About everything."

You cradled the tea between your palms, letting the heat seep into your skin. "You were stressed."

"That's not an excuse." His fingers brushed the bandage again, so light it barely registered. "I hate that I made you feel like you had to leave. Like you couldn't—" His voice broke. "Like you couldn't come to me when you were hurt."

You set the tea aside.

Spencer didn't resist when you tugged him up onto the couch, didn't protest when you maneuvered him until his back was against the armrest and you were curled into his chest, your ear pressed over his heartbeat. His arms came around you immediately, one hand cradling the back of your head, careful of your injury.

"Next time," you murmured into his sweater, "I'll call."

He exhaled, long and shuddering, his lips pressing to your hairline.

"Next time," he negotiated softly, "I'll do better."

And when you woke the next morning, his arms still wrapped around you, the book was open on his nightstand—a new passage underlined, just for you.

[siriuslylantsov]

spencer starts trying to tone down his rambling in the workplace in efforts to look more professional

but he can't just not go down a rabbithole when he starts thinking

so he starts sending you voicemails whenever he feels the urge to start chattering

literally 3-5 minutes of a windy did you know ramble

then it's see you tonight :) and he hangs up

“hey, angel.” 

his voice rings out through your phone's speaker. you can almost see him as he speaks–his hand shielding the mic to eliminate any external noise while he frantically explains whatever's on his mind today.

you set your phone up nearby, turning the volume up enough so you can hear it while you go about your menial tasks of brushing your teeth and making the bed.

you opt for his voice instead of your playlist during your commute to work—softer now, a quiet murmur through your headphones. you can hear the hum of the jet, the muffled conversation from his team, followed by a sharp reid that brings his ramblings to a screeching halt, promising to continue in the next one. (he does, picking up exactly where he left off.)

the messages accumulate throughout the day, filling your inbox. you should be more worried about the capacity and the possibility that you might miss messages from other people, but he's the only one who ever leaves you any. who even uses voicemail anymore?

they become your personal podcast, taking up far too much storage on your phone. you’ve saved every single one. they help when he's away and you miss him. you replay them more than you’d like to admit–you’ve nearly got them all memorised.

[cameronsbabydoll]

imagine a pretty little liars au

BAHAHAHAHAHAHA you're supposed to be dead bc someone killed you. BUT PLOW TWIST YOU'RE ALIVE and your first victim is Rafe so you turn yourself into a big stalker. you know every details of his life, sending scary messages and pictures about what he's actually doing at the moment and what he needs to do if he dont want his little secrets to be exposed

can expand on this with the kook trio actually with kelce and topper (ruthie doesn't need you to expose her shitty life actually)

so they need to find who you are but you're supposed to be dead so how can they know it's you ? 🤓 but in fact, you're giving some clues about your identity bc you're actually sick and you want to be a big nightmare to them for revenge

i just know Rafe is the type of people to don't take this seriously at first, but when you start spilling about his life, all the crazy things he did, he's on his way to catch u and not gonna leave the game until he wins

OHMHT I GOILD KISS YOUR BRIAN RN OKGG

you’ve been dead for a while. or at least, that's what everyone thinks. they buried you, and life moved on, but here you are, alive and well, lurking in the shadows. your first victim? none other than rafe freaking cameron.

you’ve become his worst nightmare, sending him chilling messages that hit too close to home—stuff no one should know. pictures of his every move, his darkest secrets spilling out in front of him like a horror show he can’t escape. "i know what you did last night, rafe. keep playing, and the world will know." it starts small, just little reminders. a snapshot of him sneaking out of the house when no one's around, or a comment on the way he really spends his time when he’s supposed to be the golden boy.

kelce and topper? they’ve got no clue who you are, but you’ve got them wrapped around your finger. rafe is in charge, but the others are watching closely, knowing something’s off but too caught up in their own stuff to put the pieces together. but you? you’re watching every move, collecting the dirt, just waiting for the moment to push rafe over the edge.

you’re playing the long game, sending cryptic clues, little jabs here and there, just to keep them guessing. "remember that one time you thought no one saw you, rafe? well, i did." you know all their secrets, the things they've tried to bury—the lies they told, the things they thought they'd gotten away with. you're a ghost from the past, but your revenge is just beginning.

at first, rafe thinks it’s all a joke. maybe he brushes it off as some weird prank, but the details start getting more precise. you know where he is, what he’s doing, even things he hasn’t told anyone. his mind starts to unravel, wondering how you’re watching him so closely, and you’re savoring every second of it.

he’s determined to find you, to end this twisted game. but you’re always one step ahead, always a shadow in the corner of his life, just waiting for the right moment to expose everything. and when he finally realizes who you are, it’ll be too late—he won’t be able to outrun the mess you've made.

because, really, you’re not just after revenge. you’re after chaos. and rafe? he’s about to become your perfect storm

[isasweetie]

PRISSY FLASHING RAFE DURING A ARGUMENT?? PLEASEEEEE

okay wait yes.

“and— and you can’t just say that shit, a’ight?” rafe scolds, eyes squinted and knuckles rubbing his buzzed head as if he has a migraine from this conversation. “it’s disrespectful to me, and to my, uh.. to my reputation. what are the boys at the country club gonna think when they notice i’ve got a girl who can’t do any shit for herself?”

he’d been talking for about forty five minutes, scolding you for something that you now forget. you’d been zoning out for half of his rant, if you were being honest.

you fiddle with your necklace as he continues, bored out of your mind. “gonna stop taking you to the country club if you talk like that. okay? i can’t just let this slide. god, the boys were just starting to like me again, and suddenly im bringing you over and—“ he cuts himself off with a sigh, trying not to raise his voice. spoiler alert: it doesn’t work. “i’m a cameron, baby, i have to make sure this island knows it. my dad didn’t go around getting dirty looks because of rose, so why is it different with me and you? i know it’s certainly not my fault. so who’s is it, can you piece it together for me?”

you’re quiet, his voice sounding like the teacher from charlie brown to you. you were zoned out, thinking about anything other than this — nail colour, work, friend drama. this was just too boring. he snaps his fingers in your face. “hey. answer me.”

“hm?” you blink, wide eyes back on him. “answer what?”

“oh jesus—“ he groans, taking a step back again. “this shit is what im talking about, baby! your fuckin’ ignorance!” he explains, voice gradually raising. “i need you to lock in and think for a bit, okay? can you do that? or else i’m gonna lose my fucking mind. this shit needs to change, you’re like— high or something. i can’t take it—“

he’s cut off when you raise your top up, revealing nothing underneath. rafe is strong, but he’s only a man. he sees your chest and he’s out for a second, blue eyes just staring at it. he blinks and snaps out of it after a bit, but he is definitely a bit flustered. “oh my god— can’t do that baby, s’like… shit—“ he sighs, trying to get back to normal.

“can you stop lecturing me now please?” you ask, putting your top down.

“uhhh, shit, only if you lift that top back up,” he relents to the sight, grabbing your lower arm. “c’mon, upstairs, i’ll teach you shut you up another way,”

you giggle and happily follow, taking your top back off. this is what you preferred.

[ecliptide]

‎‎‎ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ TASTE OF FREEDOM ː

‎‎‎ countryside reader & rafe cameron

warnings: nudity in semi-public, making out summary: in which reader finally gets a taste of freedom and sees the world on her own for the first time. author's note: i already feel connection with this reader. i made it basing on my life. countryside is beautiful. i actually cried when writing this, my first tumblr post :)

‘ take me home, country roads. ’

The calm, still waters of the brook reflected the moonlight in a soft shimmer — gentle, detached. It mirrored the sky above but not the way Rafe’s eyes did. His gaze was full — restless, burning, alive — where the water held only silence. You ran barefoot down the old wooden platform, laughter tumbling from your lips as your hair streamed behind you, catching the glow of the moonlight. The planks creaked under your feet with every light, pounding step, and the night air clung to your skin, warm and wild. With a final push, you launched yourself into the air — weightless for a breath — before plunging into the brook below, shattering the stillness with a splash that sent silver droplets flying through the quiet.

The air hummed with the secret rhythm of summer, the kind that whispered between leaves and licked at bare skin. Your body slipped beneath the surface, glowing like polished porcelain in the moonlight, as if carved into the night by something divine. As you moved deeper into the brook, the water climbed higher, stealing your warmth in slow, greedy increments. It soaked into your hair, dragging the strands into curls that clung to your neck and shoulders. The moment the cold met your chest, you let out a sharp breath and laughed — bright, uncontrollable, and utterly free. The sound rippled through the trees like it belonged there.

Rafe stood at the water’s edge, unmoving, watching. His eyes traced every motion you made, like he was memorizing you one last time. He blinked slowly, like he feared the moment would disappear if he looked away. “ You’re really just going to laugh at cold water like it’s a joke? ” he called, voice low and teasing. You turned to him with a grin, eyes glinting with mischief.

“ It is a joke. ” you said. “ Everything is, when the moon looks like this. ” He stepped into the brook without hesitation, smirk appeared on his face as the water licked at his thighs. “ You’re going to be the death of me. ” he muttered, half to himself, half to the sky, before reaching you and slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you close.

A hush fell between you as your gazes locked, eyes flickering between each other’s lips and eyes — nervous, tender, longing. A silent question passed between you — may I? — and the quieter, wordless reply — yes, please.

The world narrowed to the sound of your breathing and the silver lake behind your house. If your father saw this — saw Rafe’s hands on your bare skin, saw your chest pressed to his, saw what bloomed between you — he would end Rafe’s summer without a second thought. No more harvests. No more secret swims or stolen moments between chores. But even with that threat hanging in the air, Rafe couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when the simplest glance, the smallest touch, had started to mean everything.

Their chests brushed, breath mingling with the scent of honeysuckle and still air. The moonlight filtered down through the leaves, soft shadows dancing over your skin, and the night seemed to lean in, waiting. Rafe’s hands slid from your waist and dipped beneath your thighs, lifting you with surprising ease. You let out a soft gasp and wrapped your arms around his neck as your body rose from the water. He adjusted his grip, lowering you back until your spine met the surface of the brook, the current carrying you lightly. Your hair fanned out like ink in water, your smile small, secretive, your eyes fixed on his.

“ You look like a damn forest spirit. ” Rafe said, unable to stop the chuckle in his voice. “ A nymph or a fairy or… something I don’t deserve. ” You smirked, tilting your head lazily. “ You’re not too bad yourself. ” you murmured, half-laughing. “ Just a little dramatic. ”

“ Can’t help it. Look at you. ” he said, shaking his head. Then he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, then your collarbone, and everything else dissolved. The trees, the world, even the water — none of it mattered. For a breath, it felt like time folded in on itself, like this sliver of night was endless.

For a second, they believed this moment could last forever. They weren’t supposed to be together — not like this, not in any way that counted — but that impossibility only made the fire burn brighter. The wrongness of it made it feel sacred. With a sweet, breathless laugh, you rose from the water, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders. Your bodies aligned again, warm skin pressed to skin, and under the rush of stars, you kissed him.

The kiss was slow at first — testing, tasting. Your lips brushed like secrets, soft and hesitant, and then deepened, as if both of you feared time might tear the moment away before you could finish it. Rafe’s grip on your hips tightened. Your fingers tangled in his hair. You hummed softly into his mouth, and he shuddered at the sound. Every part of you said the same thing — don’t let go.

But he already knew the truth. August was coming to an end. The fields would change. And so would this. He would have to leave. The thought carved itself into his chest like a knife, sharp and merciless. It wasn’t just a goodbye; it was something colder, deeper. It was the theft of a future he hadn’t even dared to hope for. “ I don’t want to go. ” he whispered, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath trembling. You paused, eyes searching his face. “ Then don’t. ” He gave a crooked, aching smile. “ You know I have to. ” You didn’t argue. You just held him tighter, as if you could root him to the moment, to the water, to you.

Rafe knew he wouldn’t survive waiting for another harvest season. Not when every long day under the sun, every aching muscle, every early morning, was made worthwhile by moments like this — by you. If he could, he’d bury himself in this place, take root beside the cotton and never leave. But the universe had no space for lovers like you. Its design was colder, more logical. It didn’t care for stolen moonlight or soft, trembling hands.

Soon, the fields would dry and the soil would sleep, and your time together would fold quietly away. Nature itself had taken part in your story — seasonal, impermanent, impossibly beautiful. And you were his cotton field: soft, wild, fleeting, and worth everything. Holding you in the water, the moon glowing off your skin, he pressed a promise into your damp hair, his lips brushing your ear. “ I’ll come back. ” he whispered. “ I swear it. I’ll take care of you… my little cotton ball. ”

And beneath the stars, in that sacred pause between now and goodbye, he kissed you again. He would make sacrifices. He would risk it all, because the truth struck him with sudden, quiet fury — you had never tasted freedom. You had spent your life tucked away, homeschooled and hemmed in by rules and tutors, protected from the very world he wanted to lay at your feet. Rafe left a sigh against your lips, a vow already forming inside him like a seed breaking soil. I’ll show it to you. All of it. The whole world. I’ll make sure you never forget what it feels like to live.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

© ECLIPTIDE

[rafeslittlepup]

— DINNER PARTY DISASTER

you're standing in the kitchen in a white sundress and your favorite kitten heels, fanning the oven with a dior notepad. the rice cooker is flashing red. the wine glasses are mismatched. and you overbaked the lemon salmon (again). but the guests arrive in ten minutes.

your hands are shaking when you calls him. "baby... i think i fucked everything up." he shows up twenty minutes later, button-down unbuttoned just enough, watching you like you're something fragile and stupid and precious. the kitchen smells like burnt garlic.

he slides behind you, arms caging you in against the counter, "you trynna poison me again, baby?"

"i was just trying to be romantic!" you huff, eyes glossy, freshly manicured fingers clutching your little pink apron.

rafe just grins. "lucky for you, i like my women useless. guess we're ordering out."

later that evening, your friends sip expensive wine and compliment your "catering," at least you know how to set up a nice table. you cling to him like you were his trophy, smiling all soft and smug.

"you were made for this, y'know that? just standing next to me, lookin' pretty. you play house like no one else."

[morguesiren]

Hii love, I can't stop thinking about pervert!reader overhearing rafe talking with his friends and rafe being a little cocky about how he pulled reader (when in reality everyone knows that she pulled him since he couldn't even look at her BC he was so shy) and him being the one who got the pants in the relationship so reader gets in and puts him in his place, being so flirty and touchy that he can't even speak properly

how to tease your nerd

…or pervert!reader overhears nerd!afe boasting and decides to teach him a lesson.

you were on your way to rafe’s dormitory, carrying a tray of chocolate cupcakes in your arms that you’d baked for him, wanting to congratulate your boyfriend on having been the only one in his class to receive the perfect grades on one of his midterms, the professor known to be the professor with the most difficult course.

the hem of your floral dress was swishing against your thighs, your heels clacking against the floor, and as you were lifting your hand to knock on the door, you noticed that it was slightly ajar, and you could hear people speaking inside. most people would knock, or make their presence know in another way, but you always were the nosy type.

you leaned closer to the door, biting down on your bottom lip, being able to make out your boyfriend’s voice.

“oh yeah, she was so into me.” rafe chuckled, “i was so smooth and charming. she was like melted butter at every word i said. she couldn’t get enough. you just gotta be interested in everything she says, ask things about her, and plenty of physical contact.”

you had to hold in a snort; it was adorable, really, how the boy that stuttered every time that you’d flirted with him, whose face turned red every time you touched him, was now boasting to his friends about how he had managed to get you to date him, when the smartest guy you’d ever met couldn’t even realize you had feelings for him without you having to say it straight up.

maybe you should mess with him a bit.

you knock on rafe’s door loudly, before pushing it open. your boyfriend was sitting on his bed, two of his friends sitting around the room. the moment rafe’s eyes landed on you, they widened and his cheeks started to redden, “b-babe, hi. what are you doing here? y’didn’t text me or anything…”

“oh, i wanted to congratulate my baby.” you said, holding up the cupcakes. rafe’s friends were staring at you with wide eyes as you put down the tray of cupcakes onto his desk before sitting right next to him, making sure to be pressed as close to him as possible, looking up at his friends, “so, who are these?”

“t-these are my friends.” rafe mumbled with a tight smile, clearing his throat, “guys, this is my girlfriend.”

“wow.” one of the guys let out, causing tou to chuckle under your breath, “rafe, how’d you-“ he was interrupted by the boy sitting next to him, starting to turn red.

“what were you three talking about?” you asked in a sickly-sweet tone, turning to face rafe, batting your eyelashes at him, putting your hand on his thigh.

“n-nothing…” rafe mumbled under his breath, the boy’s hand going to scratch the back of his head, “just— uh, just-“

“games.” one of his friends interfered as a way to save your boyfriend’s ass, and you could hear a small breath of relief leave his lips.

“oh, games.” you cooed, resting your head on rafe’s shoulder, your eyes still on him, while he did his best to look at anywhere but you, your hand nearing his inner thigh, squeezing at the muscle.

“we- we should go.” one of the boys said,

“oh, already?” your bottom lip twisted into a pout, “that’s too bad. be sure to grab some cupcakes. i don’t think rafey can eat them all by himself.”

both of them snorted at the nickname you called rafe by, awkwardly fleeing out of the room, your boyfriend’s face completely red and a semi visible in his sweatpants. “what’s wrong baby?” you cooed sweetly. “i thought you were supposed to be smooth and charming.” rafe’s eyes widened as he pulled his face back slightly, his brain registering his words, “y-you heard that?”

“oh yeah.” you grinned, trailing a manicured finger down his jawline. “but don’t worry. i thought it was adorable.” you leaned closer to rafe, your lips inches away from his as you squeezed his thigh, a small whine leaving his lips, “but you don’t have to pretend for me.”

feel free to send requests and check out my masterlist! <3

[jenislurking]

as a reader myself i can't imagine complaining about fanfiction.

heads up:: complaining about what you can't find under the x reader tags won't make it any easier to find. and also as someone who used to write...do you know why most writers started writing? because they couldn't find the content they wanted to read

so for the love of GOD PLEASE shut up about the lack or overload of smut or fluff or whateverthefuck.

writers aren't your fucking genies and all your fanfictions wishes aren't obligated to come true because you whined under 100+ x reader tags.

[droppedyourhnd]

People complain about not finding what they want to read because y’all use the wrong tags every time

[jenislurking]

girlyyy not you disregarding half the post because that wasn't even my main point......

[droppedyourhnd]

Why do you expect people to not complain when on a good day to find a fluff or angst fic you have to scroll past 10 smut fics because writers are using any tag?

People complain about the overload of smut because that’s all you can find BECAUSE WRITERS ARE USING WHATEVER TAG THEY FEEL LIKE

Anything that’s not smut is buried under a million smut fics

[jenislurking]

once again disregarding my main point....babe i never said writers don't mistag. i specifically said "complaining about what you can't find under the x reader tags won't make it any easier to find" which was really the only part where I mentioned mistagging at all

the main point of my post was about people who complain that all writers write is smut and how there's no fluff or angst anymore. and in response to that i'm saying the same way y'all pick up your phones or tablets or computers to rant about what you can't find...maybe try and write it yourself. i'm saying that dragging writers for writing what they want and expecting them to fix a problem for you when you address it disrespectfully is beyond entitled.

there are tons of writers who are willing to write your requests if you're polite and respectful about it and also not to mention that if more readers supported writers through like and reblogs or whatever, maybe they'd feel more inclined to appeal to their audience. no one is writing for an audience that indirectly curses them out because they aren't writing enough of what they want. not to mention some of y'all who literally bully writers for a number of different reasons

and tbh i don't even really blame writers for mistagging sometimes because a lot of people demand, demand, demand, but don't share or support, so the exposure is lacking and they do what they gotta do. but if you're seriously complaining about mistagging...welcome to the internet

so if you wanna continue ignoring the main portion of my rant, feel free. but taking bits and pieces of what you want to respond to and ignoring the rest doesn't really help your case...

[droppedyourhnd]

People here are writing fluff and angst but because writers use the wrong tags those who want to read that CAN’T FIND THEM. No matter the fandom or the tag you have to scroll past ten thousand fics to find what you’re actually looking for (this didn’t use to be like this fyi)

Going to someone’s blog and question what they write? That’s a very shitty thing to do

But people just posting “where’s the angst” “why is everything smut” as I’ve seen is 1. Not dragging anyone 2. Very valid

And again, this didn’t use to be like this people used to know how to use tags

[jenislurking]

considering i already addressed your mistagging argument in my last reply i'm not going to address it again

in response to everything else:: i agree, and I'm not referring us readers simply acknowledging the lack of fluff and angst in respectful ways, i specifically acknowledged the people who do it disrespectfully with shit like "all these fucking writers write is smut, i'm so tired of reading sex, wheres all the fluff and angst i wanna curl in my bed and cry, have some creativity, blah blah blah" and things like that because there ARE posts like that...a lot of them

disrespect doesn't warrant respect the world doesn't work that way and when all the writers suddenly drop from the face of the earth because of how they're basically harassed and cyberbullied by anonymous 13-25 year olds with nothing better to do than complain about free, openly creative, fanfiction...everyone will be wondering "where'd all the writers go?"

at this point, i'm agreeing to disagree

[jenislurking]

as a reader myself i can't imagine complaining about fanfiction.

heads up:: complaining about what you can't find under the x reader tags won't make it any easier to find. and also as someone who used to write...do you know why most writers started writing? because they couldn't find the content they wanted to read

so for the love of GOD PLEASE shut up about the lack or overload of smut or fluff or whateverthefuck.

writers aren't your fucking genies and all your fanfictions wishes aren't obligated to come true because you whined under 100+ x reader tags.

[droppedyourhnd]

People complain about not finding what they want to read because y’all use the wrong tags every time

[jenislurking]

girlyyy not you disregarding half the post because that wasn't even my main point......

[droppedyourhnd]

Why do you expect people to not complain when on a good day to find a fluff or angst fic you have to scroll past 10 smut fics because writers are using any tag?

People complain about the overload of smut because that’s all you can find BECAUSE WRITERS ARE USING WHATEVER TAG THEY FEEL LIKE

Anything that’s not smut is buried under a million smut fics

[jenislurking]

once again disregarding my main point....babe i never said writers don't mistag. i specifically said "complaining about what you can't find under the x reader tags won't make it any easier to find" which was really the only part where I mentioned mistagging at all

the main point of my post was about people who complain that all writers write is smut and how there's no fluff or angst anymore. and in response to that i'm saying the same way y'all pick up your phones or tablets or computers to rant about what you can't find...maybe try and write it yourself. i'm saying that dragging writers for writing what they want and expecting them to fix a problem for you when you address it disrespectfully is beyond entitled.

there are tons of writers who are willing to write your requests if you're polite and respectful about it and also not to mention that if more readers supported writers through like and reblogs or whatever, maybe they'd feel more inclined to appeal to their audience. no one is writing for an audience that indirectly curses them out because they aren't writing enough of what they want. not to mention some of y'all who literally bully writers for a number of different reasons

and tbh i don't even really blame writers for mistagging sometimes because a lot of people demand, demand, demand, but don't share or support, so the exposure is lacking and they do what they gotta do. but if you're seriously complaining about mistagging...welcome to the internet

so if you wanna continue ignoring the main portion of my rant, feel free. but taking bits and pieces of what you want to respond to and ignoring the rest doesn't really help your case...