#then again..it does give me things to do on here..smh..

[itsameaera]

Could you do a couple twst boys with a younger reader/yuu who treats them like older siblings?

Thank you in advance :)

【❝Dear Brother Of Mine❞】

【Synopsis: In which the prefect adopts a new sibling】

【Featuring: Trey Clover, Rook Hunt, and Silver】

【Tags: gn reader, reader is Yuu/prefect, relationships depicted are strictly platonic/sibling-coded, fluff, maybe a teeny tiny bit of angst, over just sweet and fluffy, possible typos/spelling errors, please let me know if I missed any tags】

【Word count: Trey (282) Rook (325) Silver (362) Total (0.9k)】

【a/n: yayyy more platonic requests!!! I actually really enjoy writing requests like this, so tysm for sending this in! I chose these three just because I think they have great older brother potential (Trey and Rook are already older brothers but that’s neither here nor there)! Anyway, I hope you enjoy and ty again for the request!】

⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆

‧₊˚ ┊ Being the responsible and reliable big bro is nothing new to Trey, so he has no problem with being pseudo-adopted by you to fill that role

‧₊˚ ┊ He's got a lot on his plate as Vice Housewarden, but he does his time to make time for you whenever you need it

‧₊˚ ┊ Simply say the word and Trey is there to help you with whatever it is you need, from offering you advice to helping you with homework (he doesn't just outright give you the answers, by the way, he wants you to actually learn someone instead of just solving it for you)

‧₊˚ ┊ He's happy to have you join him in the kitchen, but he doesn't let you do much in terms of helping him (the most you get to do is separate and chop ingredients while he handles the more complicated stuff — he'll explain all the steps to you as you go, so at least you won't get lost during the process lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ Trey, of course, is gonna make sure you're taking care of your teeth after eating all the sweets you make together, so expect him to be breathing down your neck when it comes to your dental hygiene (prepare to be gifted a lot of floss and other dental products too lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ In typical older better fashion, he is going to tease you whenever he can — it's a part of the job, so you're not allowed to get mad at him for poking a bit of fun at you every now and again (it's all in good fun, and you're free to tease him back if you really want to lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ Trey Clover you are the big brother of all time

‧₊˚ ┊ Rook comes from a big family, so one more sibling certainly won't hurt, right?

‧₊˚ ┊ I hope you're ready to become an honorary member of the Hunt family, because you're about to be taught everything there is to know about being a hunter

‧₊˚ ┊ If hunting isn't your thing, then Rook is more than willing to take you under his wing and educate you on other areas of his expertise, be that art, beauty, science, or whatever else

‧₊˚ ┊ Of course, you're all but required to sit with him and watch all the shows/movies Vil and Neige have been in (sibling bonding time lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ He always knows if you're going through something before you have the chance to tell him (that sibling telepathy goes crazy fr)

‧₊˚ ┊ Don't worry tho, bc big bro Rook will handle anyone that so much as mildly irritates you (and he wonders why you're hesitant to come to him about any issues you're having with any other students or teachers smh)

‧₊˚ ┊ He does have some genuinely good advice, which is kinda surprising given his eccentric nature, but you're thankful for any wisdom he imparts on you lol

‧₊˚ ┊ Much like Trey, Rook will absolutely tease you from time to time, although his favorite thing to do is sneak up on you and give you a little scare (he says you still have a lot to learn when it comes to being aware of your surroundings)

‧₊˚ ┊ On the other hand, he is always singing your praises, like you can do something as innocuous as turning in an assignment early, and he's launching into a soliloquy about how dedicated and responsible you are (he's very proud of you and will never fail to tell you every chance he gets)

‧₊˚ ┊ Rook might be a rather… unconventional older brother pick, but despite his… unique qualities, he's a great pseudo-older brother (don't sign anything he gives you, by the way bc they might just be actual adoption papers lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ Silver has always secretly wanted to be an older brother, so he's actually quite happy that you look at him in such a light

‧₊˚ ┊ He's very protective of those he considers family, and that, of course, includes you

‧₊˚ ┊ Being the chivalrous knight he is, Silver is always ready and willing to stand up for you should the situation ever arise (all of Diasomnia is tbh, you're practically a part of the dorm at this point lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ He's willing to teach you some of the knightly practices that he's learned over the years, but he's hesitant about letting you handle a weapon bc 1) he doesn't want you getting accidentally hurt and 2) he wants you to still rely on him (he's such a sweetie bruh no one talk to me)

‧₊˚ ┊ Silver feels incredibly bad whenever he falls asleep while spending time with you, but you, obviously, don't mind since you know he can't help it (plus, at least it gives you a chance to talk to his little forest creature friends who have come to adore you as much as they adore him lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ He invites you to all his events with the equestrian club, which you do your best to attend, and will even introduce you to his horse, Samson

‧₊˚ ┊ Unlike the other two, Silver isn't one to tease you — he's the more aloof, but caring big brother archetype (idk if that makes any sense, but I hope it does lol)

‧₊˚ ┊ Being your 'big brother' means a lot to him and Lilia is so happy to see his son step into that role since he had a feeling that his boy was somewhat lonely growing up as an only child (yeah he had Malleus and Sebek around, but they don't exactly yk? Malleus is more like an older brother and Sebek is more of a rival — you, however are the pseudo-younger sibling he’s always wanted)

‧₊˚ ┊ Silver would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted to ask Lilia to formally adopt you, but he's content with your sibling bond remaining informal (it won't be for too long tho bc Lilia is getting those adoption papers drafted up as we speak lol)

[rr-after-dark]

Hey, hey!!! @caterpillarskimono here, but sending this from my main since my mobile app isn’t letting me click the anon button for some reason, smh. CONGRATS, THIS IS AWESOME, I LOVE THIS FOR YOU!!! 🩷

I’m a sick, sick puppy so I’m going to request ze following:

🍒🍇🍑🧅 with Jack Abbot x Stepdaughter!Reader BUT if you aren’t comfy with writing Stepdaughter!Reader, then it’s totes fine with me 🫶🏼

Congratulations again! So happy for you!

omg THE @caterpillarskimono im honored to death to hear from you

virginity/impregnation/aftercare/crying/stepdaughter!reader/jack abbot

tw: dark!jack (but you pervs seem to like that!), fauxcest, daddy kink, definitely corruption vibes, definitely agere vibes, ew yucky :)), but like im being serious skip it if you don't like this kind of thing

this is literally just smut and it ended up being several thousand words oops

very inspired by @ccarisi's dbf!carisi fic lessons learned which lives rent free in my brain bc i couldn't find the voice for this one until i jacked off to it for the millionth time read it again

Jack sighs pointedly against your mouth as you palm his cock through his sweats. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

You rut your still-clothed pussy against his thigh and whimper, "Want you, Jack. Want you to fuck me."

That stops him in his tracks. Hands off your tits. Mouth off your mouth. He looks at you sternly, which only makes you wetter because him punishing you is just as delicious as him pleasing you. "I've told you a thousand times, baby. I love you and I love what we have now that your mom's gone, but I'm not doing that unless I know you can take it. And I'm not fucking you until I'm knocking you up."

"I know the rules, daddy." You spread your legs to reveal the baby pink lace panties he got you for your 21st birthday that you like to bring out on special occasions to fuck with his head, your wetness darkening the center. "I want you. I wanna be yours. I want you to make me a mommy."

Jack rolls his shoulders. The request goes straight to his cock; he's only human. His pretty, young, virgin step-daughter offering up her cunt for his use. His cum. His claim. And, yes, it's agonizing to be patient with you the way he has (I know your mother's gone now, but only kissing until you can control yourself, sweetheart, nothing under your clothes until you're 21, baby, just do what daddy says, princess), but he really does know what's best for you and he takes that seriously. That's what fathers are for. It's his job to protect you, keep you safe, to not hurt you.

So he tsks and sits back between your legs, ignoring the trap set up especially for him. He strokes your thighs gently with his strong thumbs and says, "You're not ready, bunny."

Your pout is as cute as it is disobedient. "I am, though. I know I am."

"Really? You know better than me? Because, last time I checked, you could barely even take two of my fingers." He snaps the elastic of your thong against your labia, making you gasp at the sharp sting. "Have you been practicing without me or something?"

You shake your head vigorously. "No! No, of course not. I'd never do that."

"I know you wouldn't. You're too good for that." Jack reaches up and cups your face with his palm, studying your features carefully. "You aren't ready. End of discussion. Now are we going back to what we were doing or are you gonna be a brat about it?"

Tears sting at your eyes. Whenever Jack rejects you outright, it hurts so bad you want to vomit. You look up at the ceiling fan light and blink a few times. "I'm sorry, daddy." You reach up your arms for him and he bends down to kiss you, comforting you the way only he can. He thinks you're going to settle, but you're actually breaking out your biggest weapon: Tears. You whimper into his neck, "I just know I can do it. I wanna make you feel good. I wanna give you a family."

"I don't want to hurt you, princess."

"You won't! I just know you won't. And- and if you do, I promise I won't complain about it. I'll take it so good. Be so good for you." You pull back just enough to look up at him with those pleading, watery eyes. "Please, daddy, please."

Something snaps in Jack.

His cock's straining against his pants, his heart rate's climbing, and you're looking at him with the most genuine fuck-me eyes he's ever scene. Screw it, you're not a kid anymore. You're a grown woman and you're asking for what you want.

So he's gonna give it to you.

"Y'know what? Fine." Jack shoves your legs down and tugs off your panties, ignoring the rip in the seam with they get caught over your knees. He positions himself between your legs and digs his calloused hands into your soft, yielding waist. "You're a big girl now. You know what you want. So I'll give you what you want."

Your eyes sparkle with hope watching him slip out of his sweats, his cock springing free. "Really, daddy?"

"Yeah, baby. Really." He grips your jaw tight before you can get a good look at his dick, forcing you to stay looking at his eyes. The intensity in them. "But if I'm going to fuck you, then I'm not stopping until I'm finished. Got it?"

As you nod again, he forces your head to tilt down. Makes you look at his enormous cock. He's never let you touch it or taste it, always focused all his attention on you, and now you know why he said you're not ready. The thing is a monster, bigger than the ones you saw in health class, more like the ones in the naughty videos daddy showed you to explain things when you'd gotten curious about them.

Your mouth goes dry as you look down at it. He's laid it over your abdomen and it nearly reaches your belly button, practically as wide as the gap between your thighs when he spreads your legs. "Are you- are you gonna warm me up first?"

"Course I am baby, I'm not a fucking psychopath." Jack makes himself laugh at the irony. But then he lifts his fingers to yours and says, "spit," and the irony doesn't matter. Because he's doing this.

Finally, he's fucking doing this.

He spreads your saliva over his two middle fingers and pushes them inside of you. He's been playing with your tits and making out with you for long enough that you're dripping with need. If his cock weren't well above average, you wouldn't have a problem taking it, but he knows your tiny pussy can't handle him without it hurting. But he can make it a little better. He can make you cum first, not exactly a chore since he does it every night, if not more.

And, as the only man who's ever had your like this, he knows you and your body so well by now that it only takes a few minutes of his thumb on your clit and his fingers pumping your g-spot for you to start spasming around his fingers. Tonight, he keeps going after that, ignoring your whiny little cries of 'too much, daddy,' 'so much.' He adds a third finger and scissors them all wide, turning his fist, doing as much as he can to train your muscles to loosen up.

Then, when he knows at the very least he's not going to make you bleed, he gets back up. Licks your juices from his fingers. Pushes a pillow underneath your ass to angle your hips upward. Looks down at you with so much adoration it makes you squirm. Once again, his cock sits on your tummy, looking practically like another limb. His voice is mind-numbingly gently as he holds your hips. "Tell me this is what you want and I'll give it to you."

Even if you're a little apprehensive now, you know it's too late to turn back. You have him all riled up and he'll be mad at you if you don't give him what you promised. So you bite your lower lip and nod and tremble out, "I want your cock, daddy. I want you to cum inside of me."

"And you know what that means, honey? You understand we might make a baby tonight?"

That's the thought that grounds you, actually. It causes a smile to burgeon on your lips. Giving Jack the kids of his own he's always wanted is a dream in a dream. "I understand, daddy. And if we don't do it tonight, then I wanna do it again tomorrow and the day after. I promise I know what I want."

"Alright, kiddo." He shakes his head and lines up his tip with your sloppy entrance with a satisfied sigh. The sight alone is enough to have precum leaking from his tip. "Just remember you asked for it."

Jack leans down and holds your hand above your head, kissing your gently, as he first rolls his hips forward He greedily swallows your shocked gasp as your realize just what you've gotten yourself into. Your eyes pinch together as his swollen tip enters you, agonizingly slow, the first inch feeling like fire.

But Jack soothes you. He pressed his lips to your ear and holds your hand and murmurs, "I know, I know. You've gotta relax, princess. Deep breath for me now. Little more."

Every push, tiny increments of his girth, Jack guides you through a confusing myriad of praises and orders. There you go. Good girl. You can do it for me. I know it hurts, but you said you wouldn't complain. There, bite your lip, that'll distract you. Almost done now. It'll feel better soon, I promise. You're doing so good for me, mama. So good.

Then, unable to push himself all the way inside you, of course, he starts to move. You're gripping him hard, like you're trying to push him out and pull him in with each set of breaths, and he can't believe he didn't do this sooner. You're making the most pathetic squeaky moans and Jack has to bruise his hands into the flesh of your ass to stop himself from cumming way too fast. Not that you'd care -- you'd be thanking him for weeks even when it stings -- but Jack wants to savor this moment. The moment you stop being his babygirl and start being his woman.

For a while, each thrust hurts, irritating nerves you didn't know existed until right now. But then Jack reaches down between your bodies and thumbs your still-sensitive clit again.

"That's better now, huh?"

You take a deep breath and put on a brave face. "Yes, daddy. Do I feel good for you?"

"Jack laughs at that. "Christ, you have no idea." He tilts his head down to look at the place where your slick is dripping around him. "Oh, fucking hell. You're so pretty, sweetheart. So pretty taking me."

You whimper and smile. "Thank you."

Unable to hold off for another second, Jack's thrusts pick up speed and get harder. His attention is glued to his cock drilling in and out of you, each pounding making you squirm and moan and shake. He can tell it's starting to feel good, too, the way you imagined it would and not the way he'd feared.

"That's right, baby," Jack coos, eyes going back up to your blotchy pink face. "You wanna learn to cum on daddy's cock?"

"Will that make you feel good?"

"That would make me so fucking happy, princess. Happier than anything in the world."

So you nod excitedly. "Teach me. Show me how to be good."

Jack grins and drops those wicked teeth to one of your nipples, nibbling just hard enough to get you to wail and arch your back up into him. His sensitive little girl. He matches the pace of his thumb on your clit to his thrusts and pays close attention to the rising pitch of your cries and the fluttering of your walls around his shaft.

The second he feels you tighten around him, somehow holding him like a vise, like you were meant to do it, Jack's orgasm punches out of him. He shivers and grunts and fucks his cum into you as your moans turn to stupid babbles of nothing. He presses his forehead to yours as he collapses forward, catching himself on his forearm, breathing hard with you.

You kiss his cheek and whisper, "Did I do a good job?"

"You did so good," he assures immediately. He kisses over your face like he rarely does, being sweet and silly at once. "I'm so proud of you, baby. Maybe I should listen to you more, huh? Babygirl knows her own body, right?"

You give him a self-satisfied smirk. Yes, your pussy aches, even around his soft cock. Yes, you feel messy and wrecked. But you won. You got him to give up control and give into you. "That's right, daddy."

With a laugh, he pulls out slowly, watching himself leave you. He trails his lips down between your breasts and over your stomach, tasting your sweat and worshipping you softly. "Gonna be such a pretty mama for me," Jack sighs dreamily as he watches your pussy pulse, cum sticky around your entrance. "Thank you for giving that to me, angel. I'm so grateful for you."

You smile so hard your cheeks hurt. "You're being sweet."

He kisses the insides of your thighs gently, rubbing the outsides of them tenderly. "Because I love you. You're my girl now. My always and forever." You move to get up, but Jack stills you. "Stay there, princess. I'll bring you some water and clean you up, okay? You should rest."

As Jack makes good on his word, caring for you the rest of the evening like you actually are a princess, you start to realize that Jack's going to be a perfect father. He's going to worship his family. After all, he did such a good job raising you, didn't he?

[fligniuz]

sex for homework

luigi mangione x reader

｡𖦹°‧ you ask your cute tutor to help you study for your math final.

word count: 5.5k • part of my study buddies series (read here!) • nsfw • read on ao3

warnings : f! reader; EXPLICIT; dumbification if U squint; praise; oral (m! receiving); pre calc lol

notes : crossposting my shit to tumblr and starting with arguably one of my greatest uses of free will in history. title frommm:

You have a bit of a dilemma.

Well, it would be more accurate to say that you had a dilemma, have had one for quite a while now—your current grievances are merely extensions of a constant, one raging, blood-thirsty, borderline psychopathic problem of a class. MTH121, Concepts & Applications, is the only remaining mathematics credit required for your degree, and, coincidentally, absolutely no one told you that that’s really just a fancy name for pre-calculus. Because the universe hates you.

Your final is tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. If that wasn’t bad enough, your brain has utterly fucked you; months spent poring over formulas and right triangles amounts to nothing in the moment, every relevant fragment of knowledge completely foreign to your burnt out, sleep deprived, caffeine ridden psyche. So here you sit, “studying”, armed with just your textbook and Khan Academy tutorials.

Is it too late to switch majors? Yes, you decide, massaging your temples as you take another glance at your notes. A mass of numbers, variables, and scribbled matrices clogs the pages, complete with your near ineligible annotations, details added in the heat of a lecture. You never knew there could be so many different types of numbers. Solve for x. 5 + 2x to the 2nd power = 8x. Factor x3 - 3x to the 2nd power - 4x + 12. Find the vertex of the function f(x) = x to the 2nd power + 4x + 3. Determine the value of x if the sum of the following sequence converges to 5. How any of this is relevant to your future non-mathematics degree is beyond you.

What the hell is a vertex again? And what does it matter? You’d rather be sleeping, or drunk. Whatever.

You have one saving grace. Since your freshman year you’ve been employing a little cheat-sheet, your one-way ticket to having math explained to you in a language understood by plebeians like yourself: one Luigi Mangione, a friend of a friend of a friend, possibly the smartest guy you know (and you’re far from the only person to voice that opinion). Your self-appointed tutor—and unfortunately for you, probably the most appetizing of any of the frat guys you’ve met in college, to put it chastely. The actual knowledge is just a bonus, really, because unlike other tutors you’ve worked with Luigi seems to actually care; he wants you to walk away from him with a solid understanding of the material, rather than a temporary knowledge that gets your homework done but is absent from your memory by the time of your exams. And it’s hard to write off the fact that he’s easy on the eyes.

…Pretty damn hard, actually. Because—in all honesty—you’re really into Luigi. Another thing that’s hard to do is get your math homework done when you’re busy fucking yourself with your fingers, like you tend to do after your time with him, thinking about his cock, his hands, the way he would fill you, pin you down underneath him, smirk at you and tell you dirty things like that’s my girl, that’s my good fucking girl, that’s it, give it to me, show me how pretty you look when you come all over me like this…

Great. At this pace, you’ll never get anything done.

Your phone buzzes.

About an hour ago, you sent him a photo of your current predicament: your laptop and notebook open, and you sitting criss-crossed in front of it, an exaggerated pout on your lips. A few moments later, you sent another, this time of your middle finger pointed directly at your professor’s official portrait. Now, he responds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Smh

Who studies the night before their final?? Dummy

You smile, replying:

i do :(

help pls :((

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : You poor thing

And then:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : Come over. In like 15

We’ll work it out together

Score. He adds:

Academic Weapon (Luigi) : And I better not hear any complaining when I make you actually do the math

Your crush feels elementary, like you’ve got the hots for the nerdy jock on the playground that’s miles out of your league and that every girl on planet Earth is fighting tooth and nail for. You respond:

no promises :P

You pray to your lucky stars that you can study as nonchalantly as humanly possible.

You told him you wouldn’t complain, and you’ve tried, you really have. But dividing radicals is fucking stupid and useless and the more you look at your paper the more these numbers and symbols really start to look all the same to you, just scribbles, meaningless scribbles of made-up concepts that have nothing to do with your career prospects whatsoever. Who gives a flying fuck about solving equations with these weird ass numbers that normal people don’t even use?

You must be thinking out loud, because Luigi laughs next to you on the couch. He is laughing at your frustration. What an emotionally supportive tutor. You groan and thread your fingers through your hair, massaging your temples.

Still smiling just slightly, he starts to gather up your things. “Alright, look, how about we take a break?” He glances over at you, still holding your head in your hands. “Yeah, let’s take a break for a minute.”

He gets up from the couch, disappears into the kitchen for just a moment. Comes back with a glass of orange juice. For you. You try not to think about how pathetic it is that the most romantic gesture a man has done for you in the past three years is bring you juice. Instead you watch him, sipping slowly—no pulp, he knows you so well—and peeking through your eyelashes as he scuttles around his dorm, just the two of you alone together, while he throws some laundry into a basket and absentmindedly closes doors of unoccupied rooms. You have never noticed how defined his calves are before, nor how his curls bounce just slightly when he walks fast or how his shorts sag on his hips just right, just enough for you to get a peek of his V-line and the waistband of his boxers when he raises his arms to stretch—

Nonchalant. Demure. Mindful. You are failing so hard at the one thing you’ve forbidden yourself from doing: staring at him until your eyes are practically burning holes in his clothes and he’s melting into the floor. Not entirely your fault. He should’ve known to dress modestly around you. Around anybody, for that matter.

Luigi comes to sit by you now. As you tuck your hair behind your ears you can feel his arm move to rest along the back of the couch, almost around you, but not quite.

“Hi,” you say, propping your head up on your arm.

He smiles at you. You can’t even look him in the eye. “Did you think more about your radicals?”

“Don’t remind me,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “No. I didn’t.”

“Well, what were you thinking about?”

You swallow the conspiratorial intuition that he has to be fucking with you. Maybe he sees it on your face. Can smell it on you. Something.

“I was trying to think of some things I’d rather be doing,” you offer. “Instead of math.”

Your heart feels three beats faster all of a sudden, and when did he get so close to you? Your thighs are touching, his knee brushing against yours. “And what did you come up with?” he asks.

Oh, fuck. He’s definitely fucking with you. Right? He has that goddamn smirk on his face, that one that makes your insides twist with a feeling reserved only for boys who look at you just like this, like you’re busted, like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about every second you’ve spent sitting next to him doing algebra. You want to kiss it right off of him.

“Nothing,” you lie, sitting up straight and trying to pretend like you really are interested in your studies. “Here, will you show me how to do it again?”

He calls your name. He doesn’t even have to ask for you to look at him; the tone of his voice and the tilt of his head makes his intentions entirely clear. When your eyes meet his he inches closer, and all you can manage to do is stare at his lips.

“Tell me what you want,” he demands, stern and warm enough to boil.

If he truly knew what he was asking for he wouldn’t be asking at all, you think. Not unless he was prepared for whatever your fervent need has in store for him. Embarrassment feels bright red and prickly on your skin. “I shouldn’t say.”

”But I think you should,” he whispers.

Oh. Oh. All bets are off, now. This has officially progressed from studying to “studying”.

Luigi lets you lead, his hand settling on the small of your back as you come a little closer to kiss him, properly. You hear him giggle before your lips meet; the curve of his smile against you is unmistakable, casting sparks through your body and down your thighs. He tastes like spearmint. You learn quickly that he is a fantastic kisser, and his tongue finds yours with curious excitement when your breathing starts to pick up. Without question, he claims the expanse of you, drinking in your essence, licking, biting. Those irresistible curls demand attention, and so you thread your fingers through his hair, your hand sweeping from behind his ear to the nape of his neck. Luigi shivers under your touch, exhaling softly against you.

When the fingers of his left hand raise to grasp your leg, you stop kissing him only to swing your body over his lap so that you’re straddling him. Luigi breathes in deep then, like his nervous system collectively seizes at the feeling of you so close. To give him room to breathe you stop short of settling all your weight onto him. Lips meeting once more, his hands greet your hips; his touch is warm, and timid, like you’re made of sand, like you might collapse and dissolve into immeasurable particles between his fingers.

He groans into your mouth. Murmurs your name. “This isn’t very productive,” he quips.

“Intellectually, no,” you agree, nails brushing the back of his neck. He has goosebumps. A ghost of a smile dancing on your lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his lap; there are two layers of clothes between your bare skin but he is impossibly warm against you. “But what about physically?”

Luigi smiles, and fuck, he is too fucking beautiful. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

And so you kiss him again and again and again, your heart doing backflips inside your chest when his big hands glide lower, and lower, thumb toying with the waistband of your skirt, and lower still, until he’s gripping your ass. You can’t help but nuzzle against the growing stiffness underneath you, poking between your thighs—and you definitely can’t help but love the way he grinds back, hips meeting yours with just as much enthusiasm. Fuck. About an hour ago you were working through polynomials and linear equations, and now the dreamiest guy you’ve ever met is hard for you, holding you in his lap. You might as well thank your professor.

When Luigi sucks at your bottom lip for a few euphoric moments, you make the most pathetic sound into his mouth, and he growls, his hands suddenly coming up to grasp your hips and hold them steady. “Was this your plan all along?” he rasps, his lips moving swiftly to the side of your face, your jaw, the junction between your neck and shoulder.

Sharp teeth graze skin and you whimper. “What do you mean?”

“What, now you’re playing coy?” Luigi finds the pulse point in your throat and bites, softly at first, then harder when your fingers curl into the hair at the back of his head. “You didn’t want to study. You called me because you wanted to get fucked, because you knew I’d want to touch you just like this, didn’t you?”

This boy is out of his mind. First he practically eye-fucks you while schooling you about imaginary numbers, and then he “scolds” you like he’s disappointed in your lack of interest in algebra, like he’s mad that you can’t resist him for being so damn gorgeous. That half-hearted meanness in his tone leaves butterflies in your stomach, in no way helped by the feeling of his tongue sliding over your collarbone.

“No,” you mutter. It’s not completely a lie. You really did need his help with the math, which he is really good at…but you can’t deny that you were really hoping you two would end up like this, with him kissing your neck all over until you’re speckled with purple and pink. You don’t even care about the obvious evidence of him on your skin—you want his entire dorm hall to know just how well-acquainted the two of you are by the time he’s done with you. The thought of everyone knowing you’re his makes you weak.

Luigi is kissing you again, slowly and deeply, one hand coming up to cup your breast through your shirt. His touch is too much and not enough simultaneously, your need overwhelming, and your hips are searching desperately for friction, rolling against him eagerly. So much for nonchalance.

He grasps your chin, firm but not at all painful, and flashes you that pretty smile, tutting, “I don’t believe you.”

Your mind is far too preoccupied with thoughts of his touch in other places to try to formulate a witty rebut. You opt instead to kiss him harder and sneak a hand between your bodies, tracing over his chest, down his carefully crafted abdomen, and then over the front of his shorts, groping his hard cock through polyester. Luigi groans into your mouth. He is big, almost intimidating, and imagining him inside of you has your body feeling hot all over.

As you palm the outline of his length through his trousers, his hands make their way underneath your sweater, the sudden warmth of him jolting through your torso. You look up at him through your lashes and he smirks.

“Do you want to sit on it?” he asks you, entirely stoic despite the weight of his words.

You kiss him, still squeezing his cock. “Can I put it in my mouth first?”

Fuck. You have him wrapped around your finger. How could he possibly say no when you ask so sweetly? Luigi is instantly pulling down his shorts for you, the rustle of fabric making your head spin. He’s left in just his boxers and a sweater that you quickly help him shrug off, too. Once you have him undressed, he takes a moment to survey you, your cheeks flushed, eyes lidded, hair tousled from his hands. You feel a surge of confidence now that you have his full attention and so you pull your top up and over your head, smiling when he reaches behind you to help you with your bra. He has it and your skirt off in just a few seconds, leaving your combined clothes to pile up next to the couch.

You shift so that you’re kneeling on the floor in front of him, wearing only your panties, watching him watching you. He is grinning, his cock standing proud, and you know you must be blushing by the way his teeth flash from under the curve of his lips. You feel gooey and hot in the pit of your stomach. Swallowing your shyness, you reach forward to take him in your hand. He’s already sticky at the tip, precum glistening on his slit, and so you begin to stroke him, starting at the head of his dick and spreading slick down his shaft. His cock is probably the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen, at the very least a runner-up for his face: tan and thick, his girth evenly distributed, and big enough to have you feeling your heartbeat between your legs. There is a prominent vein along the underside of him, ending at his frenulum. He pulses with each movement of your hand.

Once he’s as wet as you like, you come closer to tease him with your tongue, licking up the base, tracing his vein, passing over his slit. Luigi groans—“fuuuuuck, baby,”—and threads his fingers into your hair, tugging hard.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” he rasps. “You asked for this. Show me what that mouth can do.”

Your lips are halfway wrapped around the head of him and when you moan at his words it vibrates through him, his abs flexing deliciously. You move further down, then, mouth closed around his length, applying light pressure on your way back up. He’s too big to take all of him at once and so your left hand grasps the length you can’t reach, pumping gently. You start a subtle, easy rhythm, evenly paced and obviously satisfying enough to have Luigi panting and swearing above you: your mouth starts at his tip, sucking gently, then gliding lower, until you can feel him in the back of your throat and you’re nearly gagging on him—and then you move upward again, cheeks hollowing around him, finally reaching the head of him once more. Rinse and repeat. It is organized. Formulaic. Your process leaves you practically drooling on his cock, spit collecting at the base where you are stroking him. Fuck. You haven’t pleased a guy like this in quite a while, and under any other circumstances you’d probably feel a bit insecure about your work; but it’s difficult to justify any doubts you might have, what with the noises coming from above you:

“Oh, fuck, yes, baby, yes, just like that, fuck yes,” Luigi moans, fingers knotted tightly in your hair. “Oh my god, your mouth…”

You slip your free hand into your panties, middle and ring finger rubbing your clit.

As your ministrations intensify, his reactions do, too. You can feel his thighs and hips tensing in an effort not to fuck into your throat. But you made a promise to yourself; you want to take the entirety of his length in your mouth before all of this is over, and so you move your left hand down to his balls, kneading him and carefully lowering your face until your nose is pressed into the curly hairs of his groin, his cock as deep as it can reach. And Luigi keens, head thrown back against the couch, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the armrest tight. You can feel him twitching in your throat.

There are a few blissful moments of you sucking him just like this, sinking him deep into your throat and pinching your lips around his tip, and you almost wish the two of you were recording because the sounds he makes are top tier jerk material for at least the next few months. He’d be a natural on camera. You want to commit every second of this to your memory.

When he goes quiet for a moment you open your eyes to look at him. You find him staring down at you, mouth agape. “Are you touching yourself?” he asks.

It’s difficult to answer with his dick in your mouth, so you settle for moaning around him again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Holy fuck,” he grunts, his voice sweeter than sugar.

You could sit here sucking him off for the rest of your life—you could die with his dick in your mouth—but you regrettably begin to feel your jaw aching, knowing full well that keeping this up will have you hurting. Not that you really mind. When you begin to sputter and tear up around him, he grabs both sides of your face and pulls your mouth off of his cock. You are crying, just a little, crocodile tears streaming down your cheeks, your throat raw.

Luigi looks down at you sweetly. “Oh, baby,” he coos, wiping your wet face dry with his thumbs. “That’s my perfect girl. So good to me. Come here.”

He welcomes you back onto his lap with open arms and a smile. He is warm, so warm and soft against you, you could fall asleep just like this. But he is kissing you now, so slowly that you feel dizzy, and so you ground yourself, fingers embracing his curls. His hands move to your hips, grasping the waistband of your panties, teasing you, rubbing the fabric against your heat. When he finally has them off his fingers are instantly examining you, collecting your slick, slipping through your folds.

“Let’s see about a little reward for you, hm?” he whispers, capturing your lips with his.

You kiss him eagerly and arch your back so that your thighs spread wide enough for his fingers to enter you with ease—not that it would be difficult without, considering that you’re so wet you can hear him touching you, even over the sound of your blood rushing in your ears. Two long digits move inside of you, stretching you, massaging that spot that makes your knees buckle and your eyes cross, plus a few more that you never knew existed. His touch feels so good, just how you imagined, and you have to lean forward into the crook of his neck to keep yourself upright, your teeth sinking into a firm shoulder. Luigi makes a gruff sound, almost a chuckle, and his cock jumps at your whiny, choked noises when he adds a third finger into your pussy.

“So needy, aren’t you?” he teases. “Have you been thinking about this, gorgeous? About sucking my cock and taking my fingers like this?”

You nod, because of course you have. In that exact order. Who wouldn’t?

Luigi smiles at you, soft and adoring. You make a curious sound and his fingers depart from you, lingering at your entrance until you grind down into his lap. Your cunt brushes against him, raw, hungry, slathering his cock with your slick.

“I want you,” you whine, grabbing his face and kissing him again. “I want all of you.”

“Yeah, baby?” His hands are guiding your hips, moving you slowly against him. “Tell me about it.”

Well, you would, if your brain weren’t short-circuiting at the moment. His fault. You mumble into his ear, something about infinity, something about the way you hug your pillow at night and all the times you’ve fucked yourself stupid thinking about this very image of you and him together like this. But there are countless words for your endless feelings, words you would preach to him from high places if your body had the agency to; your attraction to him is primal, but neatly arranged, layered, wrapped up with variables galore and multiplying with each moment you spend in his presence. A mess, no doubt about it, but one you can control, a tangle to unravel, an equation to solve. Nothing less. You aren’t sure of how this ends but you know that you need him, bad, more than you knew was possible before.

You crash into him, mouths colliding, everything that you left unsaid spilling into your embrace. Words are hard. Kissing Luigi and grinding your warm, throbbing cunt against him takes much less brainpower.

He is speaking to you when you pull away: “Baby, just a second, wait right here, let me get something.” Gently you are pushed from his lap and he disappears into his room momentarily, leaving you waiting, alone, aching for him, until he rounds the corner again with a familiar foil packet, finding his way back to the couch and sweeping you on top of him once more.

“Hi. Sorry.” And now he is fully yours.

You whine and wiggle against him the second the condom is on.

“Shh,” Luigi whispers, “I got you, ‘s okay, gorgeous. Gonna take good care of you, yeah? Don’t you worry. Gonna give you just what you need, baby.”

The tip of his cock is pressing into you, then, slowly easing himself inside, and fuck, he fits just right, fills you up perfectly, has you seeing stars already. The sound you make when he bottoms out is a hop, skip, and a jump away from pornographic. Luigi purrs underneath you.

“Oh, I know, baby, I know.” His hand slides down to grip your ass, spreading you, and from this angle you can feel just how much he stretches you out. And then, as he begins to roll his hips: “My sweet girl, working so hard, can’t even think for yourself, can you, beautiful? That’s okay, baby. I can do all the thinking for you, you just sit back and let me work it out for you, yeah? Don’t think. Just let me please this pussy.”

It’s like he’s trying to kill you. Every single word he says into your ear shoots straight to your cunt, the mere sound of his voice so near you electrifying. He’s deep, and with your thighs spread wide like this you just have to take advantage of the perfect angle to rub your clit against him. You can’t help but squeal into the crook of his neck each time his hips ram up into you, thighs clapping against your ass; by the way his muscles tense you assume it must take much of his energy, and yet he pounds you like you weigh nothing in his lap, exerting himself like it’s a cakewalk so long as he can watch your face shrivel up with overwhelming delectation. You can tell that he loves it when you tug his hair or bite him, and so you do it every chance you get, just in case your hushed utterances in his ear fail to make your message clear enough:

“Luigi, fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, oh, fuck…”

As he paces himself Luigi wraps his strong arms around you, one caging your waist and the other pulling tight at your hair. Your neck is arched and exposed, leaving him free to smother his love all over you in sharp, uneven hickeys. You needed this, so, so bad, and you tell him exactly that, chanting thank you, thank you, thank you and holding him tight.

“Whatever you want,” he whispers. “You can have whatever you want with me. Anything.” His lips meet yours, fleeting, and then, with the slightest hint of a grin: “You earned this, baby.”

You groan directly into his ear. It’s straight from your dreams, you think, like you’ve been swept from your bed in the midst of the night and dropped right here, in the lap of the sweetest, smartest, most handsome boy you’ve ever so much as looked at, bouncing on his cock while he kisses you like you’ll float away if he lets go. The two of you work together to heighten each other’s inevitable undoing, like a function of sorts; Luigi pushes and you push back, meeting his hips every time, your clit brushing against him just right, and him breaching unknown depths of you, hands roaming, learning you inside and out.

“My sweet girl,” he grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours, driving into you with precision. “This is all yours, baby.”

Sweat starts to gather at his hairline and you can feel him shuddering in your arms. Kissing him, you press down on his toned chest, pinning him against the couch, and Luigi is practically singing for you, little grunts and babys and murmurs of your name traveling through your ears and echoing in your mind. You want this to last forever. His hips slow to a stop when you begin to move on your own; you raise yourself up, resting all your weight on your knees, with him sliding out of your cunt until just the tip is still inside—and then you drop down, letting him sink back into you quickly, slick and smooth, his cock so deep you can nearly feel it in your stomach.

Fuck. You love this. You love the way his hands grip your ass, your thighs, rubbing your back, moaning your name and kissing behind your ear. You love the way he looks at you. The pupils of those dark eyes are blown wide, watching you move, worshipping how your tits bounce, the gyration of your hips, the blush of arousal all over you, your bottom lip wedged between your teeth. The sounds of sex and the shameless way he takes in every feature of your body have you feeling hot and ready to burst. You moan his name, drawn out and raspy.

“Yes,” Luigi groans. “You’re so pretty on top of me.”

Even through the haze of your pleasure you smile at his praise. He is telling you everything, every single thought that passes by in his mind, as if there will be no proof of how good he fucked you once you leave his dorm, as if every word will dissipate into thin air and leave you waiting, unsatisfied, hanging on the edge: “You take it so well, baby, my sweet girl, so perfect, so perfect just for me.”

His big hands are all over you. One cups your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth, with the other splayed over your hip. You start to feel dizzy, anxious for his attention, a little bit crazy. Close. Luigi must notice the way your eyes screw shut and your pussy squeezes him tight, because his hand moves down your chest, over your stomach, and then to your clit, circling his fingers with purpose. He wishes—almost—that you were beneath him, so that he could replace his hand with his mouth, trace down your body with his lips and bring you to your very edge with his tongue, over and over again, until you’re begging him to stop.

He settles instead for kissing you, hard, slowly, lingering. “You have no fucking idea how bad I’ve been wanting this, baby.”

You nod, moaning, “yes, yes, me too,” your noises pained and rough in your throat.

The way his cock slams into you with each movement of your hips is ruthless, bruising; he’s kissing you so sweetly and you can feel your climax churning in your abdomen, rippling through you. It knocks the air from your lungs. Sex with him hurts so good. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before.

“Gonna come,” you huff. There are fingernail-sized dents in his skin. “Gonna come for you.”

Luigi nods, whispers, “good girl, such a good girl,” and circles his fingers over your clit as fast as he can manage.

You tense around him at that. You can’t even count how many times you’ve come imagining those very words whispered in your ear by the very man that you’re riding right now.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Yeah? You like that? You like being a good girl for me?”

You nod wildly, and everything feels so real all of a sudden, like you’ve been floating mindlessly in space and you are crashing down into reality. His teeth dig into the sensitive skin of your neck and his hips start to pump again and by the time he’s meeting your thrusts you’ve had enough, thighs shaking, and he starts moaning into your ear so that you know he’s right there with you, and fuck, he’s really trying to kill you—

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. A 5’11, dark haired and brown eyed muscle truck that looks at you like you are the only good thing left in the world.

For a moment there is only your deep panting and his equally spent breaths as the both of you rest, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, yours combing through his sweat-soaked curls. The dorm is quiet, calm, almost with an air of innocence, completely unswayed by the heady aftermath of what the two of you just did right there on the couch. You lean back and look into his eyes, brooding and trained entirely on you. And he has that stupid grin on his face, the one that gives both of you away for good, the one that screams we’re not the only ones who know what we’ve been up to.

You want to kiss it right off of his beautiful, beautiful face. But right now you just sigh, lean into his shoulder, and let him hold you tight. Tonight you will walk back to your dorm, all the way on the other side of campus, where your roommates will be waiting for you, likely getting ready for bed. You will walk inside and they will watch you without a clue as to whose hands have been on you, whose name has been on your lips, whose cock has been buried to the hilt inside of you for the past hour. Your legs will be aching—you are sure of it.

Your roommates will ask you, “how’d it go?”, completely unaware of what your wobbly smile really means, how you really spent your time with your cute tutor.

And you will respond, “oh, great,” with a barely masked giggle. “I’m gonna ace my test tomorrow.”

^ dividers by cafekitsune

[genericpuff]

Something i always think about when it comes to old men creeping on barely legal women “You creep on women way too young for you because the woman you’re own age think you’re immature” Someone told me that + younger people think having an adult lifestyle is “cool”

In the case of LO- Persephone being impressed by the pool and cars and book collection

Yes all of that was to show he had money but it was also a very subtle grooming technique. In my own experience in high school (16y/o) I had a friend who was in a relationship with someone almost 10 years older than her (this was legal where we lived) and she was always so excited about the most basic aspects of adulthood. “He has his own car, he has his own apartment, he has a bachelor’s degree” EW

OLDER MEN WHO ARE IMMATURE PERVERTS WHO CANT GET A WOMAN THEIR OWN AGE SO THEY PREY ON WOMEN TOO YOUNG TO UNDERSTAND THAT THEY ARE IMMATURE

Sorry for the rant I’ve just never seen someone comment on this aspect of grooming before and needed to point it out

nah you're spot on because it really is this, a lot of teenage girls tend to develop crushes on older men because they have jobs / money / cars / apartments / etc. which the teenage boys usually don't have; but ALSO in scenarios where those feelings are reciprocated, they get to feel 'mature' and 'grown-up' because obviously they HAVE to be if the older man is interested in them, y'know?

but unfortunately they don't have the life experience or perspective to realize that it's not indication of their maturity - it's indication of the older person's immaturity. the teenage girl doesn't understand that he's severely behind on his car payments, he doesn't have any career goals, he's bad with his money, his apartment is poorly taken care of, he has very little personality or interest in hobbies and nothing to really show for himself at his age compared to his peers, etc. (and of course these kinds of men are usually complaining about how 'uptight' women are, how they 'expect too much' and 'never give nice guys a chance', as if it's a crime for women to simply have standards for themselves and not want to tie themselves down to a bum who doesn't have any aspirations or personality or basic emotional maturity at age 35 smh)

these aren't always factors but again, it's things that a lot of teenage girls won't notice because they've never had to pay attention to those things before. adult women do, because unlike teenage girls, adult women are actually looking for partners who they can build a life with; teenage and young adult girls are still in their "just have fun" phase, which is fine! but that's why they should be dating teenage / young adult boys who are living in that same phase of life lol

an adult man in his 30's-40's+ pursuing a young teenage girl or even a very young adult woman, even if it's not 'technically illegal' is still very indicative that that man doesn't have his shit together. if he did, he'd be dating women his own age. but those women actually hold the men their age accountable, they expect them to be responsible and to do the things men are doing at that age; so when men at that age date women who are younger than them, who don't expect those things because that's just not the phase of life they're in, they essentially get a 'free pass' to continue acting like a teenage boy, and the girl will be none the wiser because she's only ever known teenage boys.

and while we're talking about teenage girls and adult men here, it cannot be stressed enough that this happens between teenage boys and adult women too. i can't speak to how prevalent the latter is compared to the former as i don't have the numbers on that but it can and does happen. just now, the driving motivation is often so the teenage boy can feel like a 'man', and the adult woman gets to feel like a teenager again.

regardless of the underlying motivation though, it's gross and lately with everything that's been coming out re: the Epstein files and how much we're finally focusing on exposing pedophiles / groomers / etc. it's becoming apparent that our society is waaaay too comfortable treating this kind of dynamic as normal. it's really not.

this does remind me, there are some great YT videos from Alyssa Jaydn, she watches and reacts to a lot of children / teen cartoons, many of which at one point tried to tackle these subjects of "kids crushing on adults" in ways that would be relatable and understood by teenagers / kids. I highly suggest checking her channel out if you want some good analysis on this subject!

She's very sensitive and well-spoken in her analyses. As someone who would have experience being a teenager in the past, she's empathetic to why teenagers often have these feelings towards the adults in their lives, in a way that treats the teenagers in these scenarios with respect while still being realistic and not sugar-coating the severity of these subjects. Being a teenager is a weird and confusing time and it's important to still be gentle while also being firm about why these kinds of relationship dynamics are inappropriate. Having a crush isn't necessarily a bad thing, we all go through it, but it's important to learn that crushes can't always be reciprocated, and the distinction between an innocent crush and an unhealthy obsession.

Evidently, Hades never learned that lesson. When a grown man hasn't learned to let his inappropriate crushes go, when he can't draw the line with those crushes and enables it to become an obsession, that's when he became a certified predator.

[sweetiecutie]

Warnings: fluff, a bit of smut (mention of tits:3)

I recommend reading part 1 firstly<3

Loser!Metalhead!König who is completely and utterly smitten by you. You, a pretty little thing, big doe eyes looking up at him adoringly, glossed lips kissing him so softly - you make his very bones melt. König is known for his sharp tongue and stoic demeanour, but with his girl he turns into a little teddy bear, all soft and putty and pliant in your hands.

Needless to say that this is Loser!Metalhead!König’s first ever relationship (and he hopes last one - ain’t no way he’s letting you go), so he’s a bit clueless. Not a bit. Okay he’s completely oblivious. I mean, König for sure knows some very basic concepts of relationships, some of them he feels intuitively, some he saw displayed in movies, but in general? You have to give him crystal clear instructions and explanations because this dude doesn’t get damn hints. Yes, it is okay that he holds your hand in public, that’s what you’ve been waiting for months actually. No he can’t punch a guy for smiling at you after you met eyes for a second.

Loser!Metalhead!König who is a member and co-founder of a small heavy metal band with two of his other loser friends, where he is a drummer. They 100% put way too much meaning into band’s name, lyrics and overall aesthetic meanwhile all of their music is about gore and being a hater. It still slaps tho.

They start low - as all music bands do - performing in local rock clubs, soon finding their small, yet loyal audience which grows bigger with time and new records. And even though you’re not actually participating in process of making music - you sure are a member. Those losers surely don’t know how to give interviews - here comes in old little you, answering questions and explaining meaning and inspirations behind songs, process of their creation. Obviously you are the one leading their socials too - before you stepped in their insta page looked more like a mock account filled with ugly ass photos and near to no information about band nor members, account’s description saying “Austria - we make music”

You’re also the one doing their stage makeup, drawing creepy patterns in black and white face paints, making them look actually cool. These losers can’t even do their own significant makeup by themselves - just smearing black paint all over their faces and proudly calling it a stage look smh

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely practices his singing while showering. He claims it’s good for keeping his voice cords active, “not letting them get rusty”, but just imagine this - you’re getting ready for bed, doing skincare, making your shared bed and fluffing up the pillows, scrolling in your phone - all while devil’s screeching and howling comes from the bathroom, all because that hulk of a man practices screaming techniques.

The more their band gets popular - the more fans start to rave about dynamic of your relationship. Big, burly, 6’10 brute who has to tilt his head down and draw his shoulders together in order to get through a doorframe dating a bubbly princess of a girl like you. Two polar opposites who work out so good together, Mick Thompson and Stacy Riley vibes frfr (god when will it be me)

Loser!Metalhead!König who definitely mansplains all his favourite bands’ lore to you, giving information about every member, how they became popular, what are their most known songs are (and what they got cancelled for but we don’t talk about it okay?)

Loser!Metalhead!König who is still a fucking loser tho. He blushes and stutters every time he sees your tits, his palms getting sweaty, lips ajar as his widened eyes are glued to your exposed chest, Adam’s apple bobbing on his neck. Has he seen them dozens of times before? Yes. Will he ever not be impressed by your tits upon seeing them? Hell no.

A/n: not me dropping this off after a year of not writing and then disappearing again:3

[duskvsdawn]

HEYYLOOOO ITS ME Could I maybe request just anything smutty with claude?｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡ I LUV U MELIII

≫ A/N: Hyello! As we discussed in DM's, this is a partial part 2 to the camgirl fic! You don't necessarily have to have read the first one, but if anyone's curious, you can find it here! Oh, and btw, I love you too! MUAH! *gives you 5 million kisses and hugs and hands you your favourite snacks* Sorry, this took a couple of extra days than I initially promised, but that other fic excited me so much that I wanted to focus on that first. I hope that's okay! Also also, I am trying a bit of a different writing style inspired by one of my favourite writers ever. Let me know what you guys think! (I may become a professional yet! www) Fun fact: I wrote more like this before I started writing here! I uh... Don't know why I changed it, but it's fun to go back and forth imo!

Contains: camgirl reader, kinda subby and nervous Clark, Clark has a massive di-, reader takes Clark's side after some chatters ridicule his name, when Claude finally comes on stream he proves everyone wrong, reader struggles to walk after he fucks her on stream, cause we all know a big dick makes you waddle afterwards lmao, uh, just filth and smut really

Art credits ❤

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If you like my works, please like, comment and reblog! It is much appreciated ❤ And if you really enjoyed it, please follow me so you can be kept up to date on future uploads! Please do not re-upload, translate, or use for AI training.

My sexy camgirl

Ever since the two of you became a couple a few months ago, you had been trying to gently force your boyfriend to join you for a stream some time. He had refused several times, saying he would be way too embarrassed because he wasn't too confident about his looks. Which — to you — was absolutely ridiculous, because you thought he looked like some kind of god descended from heaven. His toned body, his beautiful aquamarine eyes that shifted to magenta, his opal-coloured locks that had a lilac ombre to them — he was gorgeous. And obviously, his massive dick was a big plus. He could easily be a porn star with his own cam channel if he so chose.

But no — he remained shy, despite everything. After a tiny bit of convincing, you were allowed to tell chat which particular chatter was your boyfriend, and after a bit more convincing, you were allowed to tell them his name. He hated his name, and the chatters gave him a good reason to.

💬: Claude? What a stupid fucking name lmaaooo 💬: wait, you often call him Clark? idk babygirl but that somehow sounds even worse. 💬: I bet he looks like a total fucking loser too 💬: Wait, that one dildo you used on your first stream in the lavender set is the same size as his dick? there's no chance in hell. 💬: Idk guys, have you seen those waddles of hers after she said she's had sex? he might just be that big, actually.

You'd read enough. You were getting a bit pissy now.

"You guys are just bullies. Listen, a bit of banter is fun from time to time, but don't insult my boyfriend simply because you are a jealous, pathetic prick who wants to fuck me. He's one of the best things that ever happened to me. Yes, he fucks me better than anyone else ever has before, and that's a massive plus. However, he is really gentle, caring, kind, understanding of my job, and he spoils me rotten, even if I insist I can pay for it myself, which I can. I know he does it because he loves me just as much as I love him. So — this is your only warning. Banter is okay, but if you disrespect my boyfriend in a way I deem unacceptable again, you will be banned. You got it?"

Seems you got the message across, as some of the chatters apologised.

💬: You're right, I am jealous... I'm sorry for being mean 💬: Yeah I admit that may have been uncalled for, sorry, reader 💬: You always talk about him so fondly, you clearly mean a lot to each other 💬: People are just jealous cause he's getting your pussy and not them smh. Just ignore them babygirl. Go get some.

Some of them were still being mean and laughing about it, so you banned them, telling them how much they sucked. After that, you continued with your "regularly scheduled program", using that particular purple dildo again as you moaned out his name when you came. If that didn't get the message across, you didn't know what would.

Claude, meanwhile, was listening in on everything that was happening in your streaming room as he was lounging on the bed in your shared bedroom — which was next to the streaming room. He had a massive blush on his face as he heard you pleasure yourself in the room next door, and he couldn't deny that jerking off sounded like a really tempting idea now. Well, barging in there and showing you how it's done to leave you a whimpering, crying mess would be the best option... But he would never have the courage to do that.

So for now, he took his dick out of his pants as he bit his shirt to keep quiet. It didn't take him long to finish — not with those moans and whimpers of yours like a private concert for his ears only, even if it wasn't really a private concert, considering your streaming job. He reached over to the nightstand to grab a tissue to clean himself off, and decided to play a random game on his phone until you were done streaming.

After you were done streaming, you shut off your pc and cleaned up the room. Changing the sheets, cleaning the toys — business as usual. After that, you sauntered over to the bedroom to give your neglected and hard (again) boyfriend some private fun time.

"Hey, baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But dono's just kept rolling in, and you know how stuff goes. But I'm here, at your service, for the rest of the day," you said with a wink as you got on the bed to cuddle your boyfriend. "It's okay," Claude replied, indeed knowing about how you want to give people some more time with you when they spoiled you with extra money, "It's only fair, after all. I mean, I used to be one of those people who threw several dollars your way during a stream." your boyfriend continued with a chuckle as he hugged you close to him to leave some hungry kisses on your lips and on your neck. "Mmm, that's true. But now you spoil me in different ways. Even if you really don't have to, you know," you said between kisses with a smile as you hugged him even tighter. "I love you so much, you marvellous, cute, kind, sexy man," you said as you left a few pecks on his lips. "I love you more, you sweet baby," your boyfriend replied as he gently pressed his forehead against yours. He didn't know he could ever become so soft, romantic and gushy, but here he was.

For the rest of the day, the two of you just mostly cuddled in bed while you watched tv. You'd occasionally go downstairs to get both of you some snacks and something to drink, but it really was mostly cuddles.

The next day was another standard streaming day, but you really wanted to try and get your boyfriend on stream with you. You were going to use all your charms to convince him; you wanted to show those mean chatters just how hot your boyfriend really was.

"You really aren't gonna let this go, are you?" Clark asked you with a pout, trying to put on a cute facade in hopes of making it clear that he was really nervous. "Please, baby, please! It will be such a massive ego boost, I promise! I invited so many ladies into the chat to drool over you! And, I banned all the mean people who were laughing at your name. C'mon, can't leave the fans waiting, now can we?" you asked as you wiggled your eyebrows, as you got on your tippy-toes to kiss him. "Will you shut up about it if I do it once?" he asked you, raising an eyebrow. "Yes, pinky promise," you replied as you entangled his pinky finger in yours. "Unless, somehow, you really enjoy it, that is," you continued. "Ugh, fine. You start streaming soon, right? Just tell me what I should and shouldn't do. I don't want to mess this up for you," your boyfriend said with a nervous chuckle. "It will be fine, I promise. No need to discuss things beforehand, we'll just see how things go. Oh, one thing, though... Fuck me as hard and as long as you can. I don't care if it will make me sore for a couple of days, I will just take a few days off from streaming if I have to," you said as you left a few hungry kisses on his neck. "Fuck you as long and as hard as I can, huh? Yeah, I can do that," your boyfriend replied with a dark, mischievous glint in his eyes.

And so, both of you got ready for the stream. You put on that particular lavender set again, because that is the thing that unified both of you, and you let him wear whatever he felt comfortable in for now.

"Hey everyone, guess who's here? Look at this absolute hottie. Isn't he fucking gorgeous?" you asked your chatters as you let your boyfriend be in full view. Most of the chatters seemed really positive, and the mods were taking care of the haters for you, since you had asked them beforehand, and they didn't mind.

💬: Holy shit, this is your boyfriend? Dude's got guns 💬: Mmm, grey sweatpants... we all know what that means hehe... 💬: Means he's packing something under there.

"Oh yeah, he's packing alright. But — he is really nervous, okay? So give him a chance to talk and calm down a little bit. It took a lot of convincing to even get him on the cam for you guys, so you better be nice, okay?" you demanded of your chatters. And with the mods with their ban hammers ready, most of them showed support.

💬: Yeah I can totally understand. 💬: Even when someone looks as gorgeous as him, it can be intimidating to be on stream with the most watched camgirl on the site 💬: Hi Claude! Good to finally see you! 💬: Finally we get to meet him, it's been forever omg 💬: Has there ever been a hotter couple in the universe? Don't think so!

You were trying to hold back your giggles as you read the kind messages in chat, which you had displayed on a second screen in a much larger font so you could read them from your "working space". You climbed on top of your boyfriend's lap to whisper something that was only meant for his ears.

"Listen, baby... I can't guarantee you won't see a single jealous, negative message, you know that. However, I got plenty of mods at the ready with their ban hammers. I made a post before about how I only want positivity in this stream to help you feel more at ease, and most people seemed really understanding. It's going to be okay, I promise. Just try to relax. And like I said, you can do whatever you want to me today," you said as you let your hands run all over your boyfriend's body in a soothing motion to hopefully calm his nerves. After some time, he nodded, and you got on with your stream.

"So, things are going to be a bit different today, obviously. I have told Claude that he can do whatever he wants to me today. So — tell me, baby, what would you like to do?" you asked as you left a few kisses on his lips and on his neck. "I uh... I'd think I'd just like to make out for a bit first, if that's okay with you?" your boyfriend asked with hesitancy in his voice, and you replied once more that it was about him tonight, so it would be okay.

Chatters went absolutely mad over his voice, saying how hot it was.

💬: Yo dude sounds so hot?! 💬: Fuck his voice is so sexy 💬: Ngl I would fuck him too if I were her, just listen to him!

So, both of you made out for a while. You couldn't help yourself when you felt your boyfriend get hard as you sat in his lap — you just had to stroke his dick. So, through the fabric, you stroked him, making him let out airy moans that the mic barely picked up, but it did.

After a little bit of making out, he had decided that he was ready for more, but you noticed he was still really nervous, so you decided to whisper another message into his ear.

"You're doing great, baby. Eyes on me. Only me. Ignore the screens, the camera, the lights. I should be your focus. Let it happen. Let your needs take over. Ignore the rest of the world; I'm right here," you whispered in between some gentle kisses on his cheek. "Now, fuck me like your life depends on it," you said — louder this time — so the chatters could hear you.

Oh, and did chat hear you. They went absolutely mad, actually.

💬: Oh she wants that fr fr 💬: Dude must be really good if she's that desperate for him 💬: C'mon man, show us that dick.

"So, baby... Are you ready to show chat what I have been drooling and moaning over this entire time, hm?" you asked your boyfriend as you got up from his lap, teasingly pulling at the waistband of his grey sweatpants. "I... Uhm... Yeah, sure. Chat, please don't laugh at me..." Your boyfriend said as he shimmied himself out of those grey sweatpants and left them to be ignored on the floor.

With a nervous smile, he looked into the camera while you climbed back onto his lap to give him some more kisses to hopefully calm him down now that he was fully exposed as a massive blush covered his cheeks — going all the way down to his neck and up to his ears.

💬: LAUGH AT YOU? HOLY SHIT? 💬: This is the kind of dick you see in porn movies 💬: Dude really is packing, this is ridiculous 💬: No wonder she waddles, holy fuck 💬: Guess he really wasn't lying about that dildo size, huh? 💬: Jesus fuck, how do you fit that inside without getting sore after just one round?

You decided to answer the last chatter with a smile.

"Not going sore, huh? I still do, but I like to show it off. Show the world how good I get fucked. By this man, this man right here," you said with a massive smirk as you gently tapped his chest. "Now then, let's get on with it, shall we? Tell me... What do you want? Where do you want me? What do you wanna do?" you asked your lover as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and left some longing kisses on his lips. "Ride me, please," your boyfriend asked you.

You nodded and moved your panties to the side so you could sink down on his cock. You decided to be as loud as possible, but not make it sound fake (because, truth to be told, he always made you make loud sounds during sex anyway), to boost his ego.

"Fuck... You're so fucking big... Fuck, baby..." you moaned as you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth. Your boyfriend instinctively placed his hands on your hips, rubbing slow, soothing circles until you felt okay. That — and he wanted to help you lift up and down when you were ready to move.

After a little bit of time, you lifted up and slammed your hips back down onto his. Both of you moaned out loud as he helped you bounce on his cock.

"Fuck, baby... You feel so fucking good..." your boyfriend groaned out loud while he buried his face in your neck to leave some bitemarks there. That should show everyone to whom you belonged. "Ah~ Fuck, fuck, fuck! Your dick is so fucking big, fuck!" you moaned like an absolute whore as you kept bouncing up and down his dick.

Both of you were like a panting, moaning, groaning mess as you enjoyed each other's bodies to the fullest — holding each other close as you fucked like your life depended on it. It was your turn now to bury your face in his neck, whimpering and whining about how good he made you feel.

He could tell you were close now, especially with the desperate sounds you were making. One hand sneaked between both of you to quickly rub at your clit to give you the best orgasm he could. Sure, his dick was already hitting the most delicious spots inside of you, but this just sent you into an absolute frenzy. He always did that for you — prioritising your satisfaction over his own. But he couldn't deny that your body felt like absolute heaven to him. Always so tight, so eager, so warm; he loved you so much, and your amazing, sexy body was a massive bonus.

With a loud moan, you released all over your boyfriend's dick as you threw your head back, Claude releasing inside of you a few seconds later when his thrusts became erratic after you came.

You got off his lap, out of breath, but in a cheeky mood. You focused the camera on your leaking cunt, letting the viewers see Claude's load leaking out of your overfilled pussy — since his loads were always so huge. (Yippee for zinc, you suppose)

"Mmmmmmm... fuck... Just look at that, chat... He always fills me to the brim, and it feels so fucking good. He fucks me as much as I want, no matter if he's close to collapsing; he will keep fucking. He's an absolute beast who will satisfy me the best he can. Oh... And sure he can," you said with a cheeky grin as you spread your ass apart to let the cum drip out on the floor below.

💬: Fuck, that's a massive load 💬: Oh, when you swallow you get a full course protein shake for sure. 💬: Mmm, seeing that cum drip out of your pussy makes me so fucking hard baby...

Claude couldn't deny it, seeing you rile chat up this way — in a way that would surely make chat jealous — gave him some kind of possessive energy.

"Come back here, baby, I am not done with you — not yet..." your boyfriend said as he got on the bed and patted the space before him. "Ooooh, look at that, chat. Looks like someone is in a good mood. Oh, he is going to fucking fill me until I'm overflowing and so sore tomorrow. You know, I might just have to cancel tomorrow's stream with the energy he's showing right now," you told your chatters with a wink.

💬: Oh, he's an insatiable monster... Rawr... 💬: Oh he's really not done with you, reader hehehehe 💬: You better prepare to be fucked senseless.

Oh, and fuck you senseless, he did. He fucked you in doggy style first, then missionary, then he made you sit on your office chair as he fucked you against that. The entire time, both of you were a vocal mess. He had kept his promise — he had fucked you as much as he could.

During the final round, you were placed in a mating press, and you were absolutely losing your mind.

"Oh fucking god, baby, I can't fucking take it anymore! It's starting to hurt! No more after this, please!" you begged your partner, who felt merciful and decided to listen to your desperate pleas. "Mmm, you did well, baby. C'mon, cum for me one more time; I know you can. C'mon baby, I'm so close, cum with me," your boyfriend pretty much whined as he kept slapping his hips against yours, his stamina now also becoming less. "Baby, I'm so fucking close... Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" you screamed out loud as your boyfriend stimulated you extra by angling his hips downwards so it would be rubbing against your clit with every move he made. "That's right, baby, come for me. Give me one more, c'mon, just one more, you're doing so well," your boyfriend cooed as he left loving kisses on your neck.

It didn't take you long to fall apart with a loud scream as you coated your boyfriend in your release once more. But your boyfriend wasn't far behind, filling you up almost instantly after.

After that, both of you just collapsed on the bed for a bit, catching your breath. When you had regained your strength, you waddled over to your pc to address your chatters one more time.

💬: Oh she was fucked GOOD good 💬: Look at her, she's absolutely spent 💬: I take back everything i've ever said about him, he can fuck her like no one else.

"I told you he could satisfy me like no one else. Now, we're gonna go to sleep. I'll see you all the day after tomorrow, probably. Streaming tomorrow would hurt too much. See you all, bye-bye!" you told your chat with another wink as you went to turn off your stream.

After that, both of you took off the spoiled bedsheets and put them in the laundry room, and then you changed the sheets together. After that, you both took a shower with each other. And after that, you just plopped down into your shared bed with some clean underwear on.

"I do okay?" your boyfriend asked with a massive blush on his face. "Are you fucking kidding me? You did amazing. And chat loved you too. They were jealous, sure, but they loved you. And I think you got the message across — I am taken and not to be seduced," you said with a giggle as you left some gentle kisses all over your boyfriend's face.

It didn't take either of you very long to fall into a long, satisfying nap with plenty of wet dreams involved.

[forkshighschooler]

can you do one where embry and reader are kind of dating before he phases but she wants to pursue singing but nobody really believes in her, embry does but he just doesn’t say it, so she moves away(acouple years later) and becomes known but from a different name and maybe she has like a little concert in la push and the pack gets dragged there by and another imprint or smh and she’s singing and before one song she give like a background of the song and it’s about embry and maybe it’s ’all i wanted” by paramore . and he realizes and somehow they meet after the show and he imprints and they bond again

All I Wanted

Pairing: Embry Call × Reader

Summary: Before his world turned upside down, you were the one thing that felt certain. But dreams pulled you away, and fate wasn’t ready for either of you. Until the music brought you back.

Warnings: Angst, heartbreak, slow-burn reunion, fluff ending.

⸻

Embry Call had never been good with words.

Back then, before everything—the phasing, the pack, the secret world of wolves—you’d sit with him on the driftwood at First Beach, talking about futures. You’d tell him how the world felt too small here, how music was your lifeline. He’d listen quietly, picking at the sand with a stick, nodding as if he understood.

“Everyone thinks it’s stupid,” you’d confessed once, hugging your knees. “Singing. Writing songs. They think I’m chasing something impossible.”

Embry’s lips had parted like he wanted to say something, but instead he shrugged. “It’s not stupid.”

It was the closest he’d ever come to saying what he really felt—that he believed in you, maybe more than you believed in yourself.

But neither of you were brave enough to call it love. You were kind of dating, kind of not. Hanging in that space where one word could change everything, but silence was safer.

Then he phased. His world shifted, and you didn’t understand the distance that grew between you. You thought maybe he didn’t care. Maybe he’d been pretending.

So you left.

And you never came back.

⸻

Years passed. You shed your name like old skin, reinventing yourself under stage lights and the roar of strangers’ applause. The world that once seemed impossible became yours—you were known, recognized, adored. But sometimes, late at night, when the noise died down, you still thought of him.

Embry Call, with his quiet smile and the words he never said.

⸻

“Why are we even going?” Embry groaned, shoving his hands in his pockets as Quil and Jacob dragged him down the rainy street of Port Angeles.

“Because Kim begged Jared,” Quil said, rolling his eyes. “And when an imprint wants something, we don’t argue.”

“It’s just some concert,” Jacob muttered. “Not like it’s gonna change your life.”

Embry grumbled, but he went. Pack life was like that—you didn’t always get a choice.

He hadn’t expected the stage lights, the press of the crowd, the thunder of music vibrating through the floor. And he definitely hadn’t expected to hear your voice.

It froze him in place.

Because he knew it. Even through years and fame and distance—he knew it.

Your name was different now, a reinvention that rolled off the announcer’s tongue. But it didn’t matter. It was you.

The girl who once dreamed on driftwood. The girl he’d never stopped thinking about.

⸻

You were radiant onstage, the lights catching in your hair, the microphone steady in your hand. And then you spoke before the next song, voice carrying over the restless crowd.

“This one’s… personal,” you admitted, gaze dropping for a moment. “It’s about someone I once knew. Someone who believed in me even when he never said it out loud. He probably doesn’t even remember me now.” Your throat tightened, but you forced a smile. “But all I wanted back then was him.”

Embry’s chest constricted.

And then the music started.

You sang with a rawness that cracked him open. The lyrics weren’t just words—they were pieces of your heart, laid bare for everyone to hear. The song was about longing, about someone who slipped away but never stopped mattering. Every note was a knife and a balm all at once.

Embry’s knees almost buckled. He realized then—he had never truly lost you. Because you had carried him with you, even in your songs.

And as the imprint snapped into place, his world finally aligned. The bond roared to life, undeniable, unbreakable. You were his. Always had been.

⸻

After the show, the pack gave him space. Jared caught his arm before he could bolt. “Go,” he said simply.

Embry found you backstage, surrounded by crew and fans and chaos. You looked different—older, stronger, dressed in glitter and leather instead of worn hoodies. But when your eyes landed on him, the world fell silent.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Then you whispered, voice breaking: “Embry?”

He swallowed hard, stepping closer. “Yeah. It’s me.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “I thought—you never—”

“I should’ve said it,” he interrupted, his voice rough. “Back then. I should’ve told you I believed in you. That I wanted you. That I—” He broke off, chest heaving. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Embry…”

The distance of years collapsed as he pulled you into his arms. And when you clung back, burying your face in his shoulder, the ache of leaving and the silence of what you’d both lost finally melted away.

“You don’t have to want me,” you whispered. “You’ve probably moved on. You probably—”

“I imprint on you,” he said, the truth tumbling out before he could stop it. “You’re it for me. You always were.”

Your breath hitched, but then you laughed through your tears. “Fate took its time, huh?”

He smiled, pressing his forehead to yours. “Worth the wait.”

⸻

That night, under the hum of stage lights and the lingering echo of your song, you and Embry finally stepped into the future you’d both been too afraid to claim years ago.

And this time, nothing—not distance, not silence, not even fate—was going to take it away.

⸻

Ending fluff: From that night forward, he was there at your shows, in the wings, proud in a way he never let himself be before. And you, finally, were home—not just in music, but in him.

Disclaimer:

I do now own Twilight or any of its characters. All rights belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is a work of fanfiction written for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

[dearest-loveliest-elizabeth]

Continuing on with Sauron Defeated (the final part)

(Part 1 / Part 2)

This is after being rescued by the eagles, what happened after the quest.

Bilbo not only gives Frodo his sword (again, having not remembered he already did), he also gives Sam books! (And Merry and Pippin advice)

Sam and Frodo lay their hands upon Aragorn’s crown.

Gandalf’s names for Frodo and Sam (I already knew it, but still)

:(

(Tolkien eventually changed Frodo’s wound to hurt in the anniversary of it, instead of when being geographically near)

Initially Gandalf followed the hobbits on the journey home, until the Shire, when he left them to figure it out themselves, since “Wizards should not interfere in such things. Don't crack nuts with a sledge-hammer, or you'll crack the kernels.”

When coming back to the Shire, they encounter Saruman, who may not be so awful after all?

Sam should have been allowed to throw a punch

“It is Frodo, not Merry, who threatens Bill Ferny and gets rid of him.” “It was Frodo, not Merry, who made the Shirriffs march in front on the journey from Frogmorton, and there is no mention of his looking 'rather sad and thoughtful' as his companions laughed and sang.” “it was again Frodo, not Pippin, who said 'We'll break a good many things yet, and not ask you to answer.’”

Frodo apparently did everything in the early draft for the Scouring of the Shire.

In fact,

(Also, Frodo do is pretty confident in the book, but I can see his confidence in the drafts much better. He never denies himself credit for what he did, acknowledging that he didn’t get as much praise as he deserved because he was a hobbit (and hobbits tend to be ignored and underestimated by everyone else), standing up to Sharkey and such without any fear, confident that he could take him alone (which he could), etc. Frodo just doesn’t seem to care anymore about much, and he’s aware of what he can do and the power and strength he has. Frodo stands up for himself, and I love seeing it).

The biggest villain the scouring of the Shire is Sharkey, Saruman isn’t even there.

Frodo (and Sam) seeing the Shire being controlled by Sharkey’s men, etc

Pippin defending Frodo☹️

All of them go to the Cotton’s farm, not just Sam, looking to spend the night there.

There, Sharkey and his men showed up, and

(damn, Frodo, alright)

Pippin killed five ruffians in the battle of Bywater.

Tolkien eventually changed Frodo’s role in the Scouring (no longer killing and being so… aggressive) because: “my father perceived that Frodo's experience had so changed him, so withdrawn him, as to render him incapable of any such role in the Scouring of the Shire as had been portrayed.”

Afterwards, during the life in the Shire again, Frodo becomes major (not deputy major, major) and it’s different from the book because here everyone respects and honors Frodo. Even Sam thought he had the fame he deserved.

Yes, Frodo, slay (“You are the fingers of a hand that has been cut off, and arm and body too are dead” goes so hard)

After Frodo threatens him, Sharkey begins to say “oh you’re only brave because I’m one hobbit and you have your friends by your side, that’s why you’re so bold” so Frodo says bet

Frodo wiping Sting on the grass is sending me. He really does not gaf

(This is directly after the excerpt from above) Frodo and Sam talking about each other as “the real hero” of their story (they’re so in love). And people are STILL pitting them against each other, smh. But Sam got it right, it’s not one or the other but both of them, there sure is more than either alone when they’re together.

(Without you I’m nothing, but you and me together, Mr. Frodo: We’ll, there’s more than either alone☹️)

Tolkien began writing a scene set in 1421, when Elanor was “nearly six months”, during midsummer, where Gandalf came to the Shire, but he wrote only one paragraph and abandoned it. A shame because this could have been a look into Sam, Frodo, and Rosie’s life living together with baby Elanor.

There are two versions of the epilogue (none of which Tolkien included).

In the first one Sam is talking with his (many) children, talking about the adventures in the Red Book and telling them that the king (Aragorn) was visiting near the Shire and that he wanted to meet them.

Nothing particularly interesting about this epilogue, aside from a funny moment where Merry (Gamgee) asks his father to answer just one more question but instead asks several as fast as he can, without waiting for an answer. To this, Sam says “That's a lot more than one question: you're worse than Gollum,”

The second epilogue is the one we all know, I think, with Sam and Elanor talking.

(I found this so cute, I love Elanor) (she found Aragorn’s letter telling Sam he was going near the Shire and wanted to visit him and his children)

Sam as Celeborn and Frodo as Galadriel ☹️

(If Celeborn and Galadriel are married… and Sam canonically thinks Galadriel is absolutely beautiful… and Frodo is Galadriel here… and Elanor shows Celeborn’s struggle as choosing between staying with Arwen or leaving with Galadriel… and later Elanor refers to her as Arwen and Frodo as Galadriel… walk with me…)

(Sam only stayed because he wanted children and a family, just like (according to Elanor) Celeborn stayed with Arwen, his granddaughter, letting his wife leave, but eventually followed his wife into the sea)

(Sam talking about himself when talking about Celeborn, he’s not leaving to Valinor yet, he’s not tired yet, his time is not done, but he will leave, eventually. This is made even more explicit by Elanor drawing the comparison between the situations literally on the next line)

The ending. So you agree? Sam claims to be whole with Rosie and yet he still hears the sea? He still thinks of Frodo? He thinks of Frodo even when he’s laying next to his wife in bed? Alright.

Sam hearing the sea is him thinking of Frodo. There’s nothing tying Sam to Valinor, except for Frodo. It could be his wounds from the quest, sure, but they aren’t mentioned anywhere so I doubt it’s that. He wants to follow Frodo, despite the fact that his wife is perfectly well besides him and he has plenty of children to keep him busy. Right. No, yeah, I totally get it, Tolkien. This epilogue is absolutely not gay at all, of course, why would I think that?