#gil galad smut

[doodle-pops]

Modern AU: Sugar Daddy | He Gives Me All His Money

Headcanon: Feanor, Curufin, Fingolfin, Turgon, Gil Galad, Glorfindel

A/N: A continuation of my modern AU series. Got a bit bored with doing the CEO AU for all the characters since it was repetitive. This is what happens when I get smacked all week by the NSFW stick and listened to Sugar Daddy by Herbie. These were super long, so more content to enjoy.

Warning: smut, mentions of breeding and impregnating

Feanor

↬ He’s stern like his son when it comes to the contract signed between you both and doesn’t like the idea of breaking it for anything. He understands that it’s his job to take care of you and provide all your wants and needs but he does demand things in return.

↬ Feanor isn’t going to outrightly tell you that he’s lonely and missing the comforts of his wife, but he’ll demand that you give him quality time. His best way of quality time is travelling around the world and going to events — being between the sheets and taking out his loneliness on you.

↬ Being the owner of the largest and most successful jewellery company, you are going to be decked out in the finest jewellery his company has to offer. Only the best for his baby girl/boy and he wants you in the finest wear as well.

↬ You have you own set of credits cards that always feel hot and heavy in your pockets. He does expect you to not worry about the price of things because he can afford.

↬ Not so serious about whether you’re doing well in your studies or job since in the beginning he’s focused on him. Later, as the relationship progresses, he will crack down on your achievements, wanting to know your area of expertise.

↬ Proud to show you off and does not hide the fact that he’s seeing someone new and younger. It’s his way of making it clear that despite having seven children, he can still perform and has what it takes to be an eligible bachelor again.

↬ Possessive and makes you wear necklaces and rings with his initials, furthermore, a big fan of PDA and will sneak into your changing room while the assistant is outside to fuck. Can, will and he did finger you at a family dinner while having a stare-down with his brother who knew what was taking place and was disgusted.

↬ The first time he took you to bed, he had you questioning if he was the age he carried and how could he still perform so well. Pillowtalks were always a challenge with Feanor because he’s Mr I Have Too Much Pride and ‘I Don’t Need To Talk About My Feelings, I’m Fine’.

↬ Another sugar daddy who obviously has a breeding kink and talks about there being room for more. If you have seven children, you don’t need more. Try telling that to him, it earned you being in bed for a whole day and calling in sick.

Curufin

↬ He’s very serious about the contract the both of you have signed when it comes to him being your sugar daddy. You give him good grades and passing, and he rewards you with all the splendid jewellery from his company and trips around the world.

↬ For him, the contract holds a lot of weight in the intimacy department, and he gives that when you perform well in your studies/work or when he’s in the mood.

↬ He’s not really one to look for a relationship while being your sugar daddy, it’s strictly business and intimate pleasure without the personal feelings, so don’t expect to have pillowtalks or personal conversations when he takes you out for dinner.

↬ Very private about his life, the most you got out from him is that he has six brothers and a son to his first and only wife. Made you understand why he was willing to be your sugar daddy — he was lonely and yearned for company but didn’t know how to outrightly say it.

↬ He loves to take you out on dinners though, mostly to show you off and grant you extravagant gifts before taking you back to his house and making your legs shake. You learned that despite his stoic and grumpy persona, he was well-performing in bed, and you didn’t have to question anything.

↬ Very dominant and would never allow you to take control EVER. He’s into pet play and does have a collar made for you whenever his baby acts out of turn. Can and he will drag you off in the middle of a dinner party to fuck you but doesn’t allow you to cum and then leaves you stuffed and unsatisfied for the rest of the night until you reach home.

↬ Love, love, love to spank you and loves to use you to take his frustration out on since he isn’t into pillow talk and whatnot.

↬ Loves to have you were his jewellery when he’s taking you. Most of the time, you’re completely decked out in diamonds, emeralds and rubies while he’s folding you into the bed. Curufin does love it when you give him blowjobs wearing just his jewellery.

↬ As much as he spoils you, he adores you when you return the favour and spoil him intimately. Dress in lingerie for him, let him have his way with you and give him that special comb blowjob, maybe you can call him ‘daddy’ and watch how he’ll rethink a few changes in his contact.

Fingolfin

↬ A sugar daddy who loves to spoil his baby with anything and everything. Whatever you what, Fingolfin will get it for you as long as you ace your studies or work. Show him that you are performing and meeting the grading requirements he demands, and he’ll give you a good time.

↬ Will either pick you up from work/school himself or will send his chauffeur to bring you over whenever he has something in-store. You do have your own car because it was one of the first gifts he gave you along with a new house to live in because he couldn’t stand to have live in the condition he met you.

↬ He once brought you a necklace that had his initials on it and wished for you to wear it at a dinner party so everyone can see that you were his. Yes, he is possessive but not overly.

↬ Despite having four children, Fingolfin has the stamina of a bull and doesn’t let his age be a reason why he can’t perform in bed. Every session blows your mind (and back), and one round is never enough. Those sessions escalate whenever ‘daddy’ slips from your lips while he’s folding you into the bed like some wild animal.

↬ Very fond of having you on the receiving end of the pleasure but does not reject the offers to receive pleasure from you. Fingolfin adores it when you stop by and visit him in his office to give him a ‘surprise’. No shame in taking you to the couch or desk when he has a meeting in five minutes.

↬ The type to sit back in his chair with his first two buttons undone, whiskey in hand with sleeves rolled up as he watches you dance for him in the pretty lingerie he insists on you wearing tonight.

↬ When he’s in the mood, his ‘daddy kink’ flares up and causes him to fuck you like no tomorrow. He has an impregnation kink duh.

↬ He isn’t private nor open about his life, but somewhere in between. You learnt a bit about his family and his children, but that’s all he’ll ever let you know. He prefers to learn all he can about you from your childhood to your ambitions, and Fingolfin is extremely supportive of your aspirations.

↬ Dinners, trips, gifts, lingerie, fancy designer clothes and tuition paid are a part of his contract. He’s mostly a sugar daddy for the company because he gets quite lonely, so he does make moves to transition into a relationship if you are willing to go there.

↬ If you are a student, Fingolfin is highly intelligent, so he loves to help you study using very effective methods. Whenever you ace your revisions with him, rewards you with a nice long orgasmic fuck and when you get something wrong…well punishment is in store.

Turgon

He’s a cautious sugar daddy that sticks to the contract between you two. He isn’t looking for a relationship or anything, however, he does enjoy your presence and the company you give. Very academic, so expect some conversations in that area.

↬ Not overly fond of PDA but doesn’t mind holding your hand in public and having his arm around your waist when he takes you to dinner or any charity events. If he drank (not drunk, he’s sober), it loosens him up a teensy weensy little bit and the most he’ll do is give you a small kiss on your cheeks.

↬ Like everyone else, you bring in good grades and behaviour, he’ll reward you with gifts, trips, dinners and other materialistic items. It takes a long while for him to warm up to the idea of sharing himself intimately with you.

↬ It’s not like he doesn’t want to sleep with you, he does but a bit skittish with asking you to lie with him. The most he’d gravitate towards doing his sharing some steamy kisses.

↬ When he does, it’s a private matter. Behind closed doors and always executed in his home. Turgon would admit that he was afraid of being vulnerable when he grew to be intimate with you, but he learned that there was nothing to fear. The most being intimate with you did was remove any awkwardness between you both.

↬ Loves pillow talks and takes the moment to slowly let you know little tidbits about himself. Never thought that he’d enjoy sleeping with someone since his marriage ended with his wife years ago, and it revived his sex-sleeping drive.

↬ If you ever visit him while he’s working, the most he’ll let you do is give him a blowjob under the table. Despite being more open with your sex lives, he’s still private with the affections.

↬ He may not look like the type, but he's a gym buddy with a beautiful body and loves when you visit him during his workout session. He was the last person you would ever suspect hitting the gym.

↬ He’s the last one out of all the others to develop a breeding kink after seeing how pretty you look stuffed with his cum.

↬ Another person who loves to have you decked out in the finest wear and jewellery when he’s taking you. The sight of you looking so well-taken care of spurs him into overdrive. The urge to suddenly bask you in ultimate pleasure takes over and leads him into spending hours between the sheets.

↬ A big fan of bathtub sex, especially when there’s a romantic setting – flowers, candles, lighting, wine/champagne.

↬ As much as he attempts to repress his desire to sleep with you, he’s pleased when you don’t push him away and equally return the pleasure. He’s not entirely sure if he wants the relationship between you two to go any further but he knows that he’s enjoying the renewed contract between you two.

Gil Galad

↬ He’s a very fun-loving and enthusiastic sugar daddy who loves to spoil you whether you do a good job at your studies or not, but he prefers if you do. Gil Galad is more of a sugar daddy for the sake of looking for a relationship because he’s tired of being lonely.

↬ So as much as he’s spoiling you with all the jewellery and expensive trips around the world, he’s craving the personal intimacy of just spending time with you. He treats every moment with you as if you’re together officially and he hopes that one day you can see that.

↬ Gil Galad wants to hear all about your accomplishments and aspirations so he could push you to the limit and assist you with getting there. He doesn’t care how expensive the end result is, he’ll blow his bank account on you (he loves you).

↬ He really isn’t fond of using sex to get closer to you like other sugar daddies. Wait, let me explain — does he want to sleep with you, yes he does. But is it of great importance to him — not really on his list of priorities. So, he rather hear you confess your feelings to him and want to make the relationship intimate.

↬ When that happens he wouldn’t immediately jump into sleeping with you, by taking the opportunity to change the way he spoils you.

↬ A lot more affectionate, so more hand holding and kissing on the cheek or if you’re bold, he’ll pull you in for some hot kisses in public. He doesn’t mind PDA at all. A hand is always around your waist or shoulder, and he has the habit of playing with your bracelets and then giving them a kiss (slightly possessive).

↬ He is the type to rent out an entire boutique and then join you in the changing room for a quickie while you’re dressed and not caring about if the clothes you’re wearing get soiled. “I could buy this store and everything in it if you’re so worried about your clothes getting ruined, now do be a good girl/boy for me.”

↬ When Gil Galad does decide to be sexually intimate with you, hang on for a ride because he’s romantic and passionate at the same time. Call him ‘daddy’ like all the others and watch as he turns into a beast. He loves when you wear his shirt with his favourite lingerie underneath; it helps him to make you cripple.

↬ His sex drive is high since he’s repressed it for a long only wanting to sleep with you when things escalated and became meaningful. So, he’s tearing those sheets up when he finally has you. Be a good girl/boy for him and he’ll shower you with long orgasmic pleasure. Gil is a firm believer of whatever you give to him must be returned.

Glorfindel

↬ Glorfindel is your sugar daddy because he likes you and wants to impress you, and to him, it’s the only way to get closer to you. He does this by showing off his considerable wealth by buying you all the pretty things in life. Anything his baby wants his baby gets.

↬ He is keen on taking you to bed, but he wants to wait for you to give him the okay go. Aside from that, Glorfindel is fine with just taking care of you with the materialistic things in life. Buying you a pretty gown, taking you on trips to the Tropics, jewellery and funding all your tuitions or jobs. You need a new car? You got it. You need a house? Glorfindel might insist on you staying with him, but he’ll get you a house.

↬ Smooth and flirtatious daddy, who does not hesitate to flirt with you any chance he gets. Takes you to expensive dinners and rents out the entire restaurant so you two have privacy.

↬ Flowers every day are sent to you with a message attached and there are times he’d drop by to bring them and then take you to work. And then spends the entire ride sitting in his lap being fingered and him making some comment about how good girls get treated well.

↬ Glorfindel is a sweetheart but a meanie in bed and loves to make his baby girl/boy a teary, weeping mess, because if you’re not crying then he isn’t fucking you right. He wants you either in lingerie or nothing at all because either way, it’s coming off before the night is over. Has a thing for making you tell him what you want with specific detailing.

↬ Loves when you give him a little performance to show him how much you crave him and please, crawl over to him on your knees while he sits in his chair shirtless and in sweatpants. Glorfindel is a pretty boy, and he does love his praises, so give them to him while you beg him to fuck you.

↬ Leaves hickeys in obvious places for the world to see as he shows you off on his arms at an event. Then he drags you off mid-event to fuck in the luxury bathroom because he can’t stop admiring you and your fine ass. The sucker was dirty talking in your ear about all the things he wanted to do to you and turned himself on.

↬ Wants you in lace and satin lingerie and wearing his shirt while walking around his complex. He does enjoy doing little domestic things like cooking with you only to bed you over the countertop minutes later talking about how he prefers another type of meal.

↬ He is a young sugar daddy compared to the others so he is wholeheartedly jubilant and excited about everything you do and says — he worships the ground you walk on. Glorfindel also doesn’t mind settling down with you because he does like you.

Masterlist

Taglist: @spidergirla5 @eunoiaastralwings @someoneinthestars @aconstructofamind @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @noldorinpainter

#silm smut #curufin x reader #fingolfin x reader #feanor x reader #gil galad x reader #glorfindel x reader #turgon x reader #curufin smut #gil galad smut #tugon smut #fingolfin smut #feanor smut #glorfindel smut #curufin headcanon #turgon headcanon #gil galad headcanon #fingolfin headcanon #feanor headcanon #glorfindel headcanons #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion headcanon #middle earth x reader #middle earth headcanons #middle earth imagine #x reader smut #modern day au #sugar daddy!au #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[elentarial]

my friend @goschatewabn, here is your gift for @ainursecretsanta

I loved your prompt “trying to understand the Incarnates and differing moral/ethical codes”

Please enjoy some Eönwë/Arafinwe/Gil-Galad below the cut

They're going to touch; Eönwë can see it. Eönwë knows it.

They're going to touch, and it's going to be more than the touch of friends, and it's going to be more than the touch of brothers-in-arms. It's going to be more than any touch Eönwë has ever given to another, and it's going to tear Eönwë's heart out, and it's going to rip his honor to shreds, but he cannot look away.

He will not look away.

They are both bare from the waist up, their breeches slung low, color riding high in their damp skin. Gil-Galad knows his way around a body for death and love both, and the way he touches Arafinwë frames him like art in Eönwë's eyes. It's a caress, along tight sinew, and hard, flat muscle, and it makes Arafinwë crash like the tide - Eönwë can see the blue ocean in his eyes ebb in and out with every blink, every flicker of his tawny lashes against his pale cheeks.

Arafinwë's hands are sure and rough and astringent like herbs. Eönwë knows the smell and firmness of his skin from when Arafinwë plays the role of healer among his captains. The hands of a king are said to be the hands of a healer, but Eönwë often forgoes any offers from Arafinwë. Those hands conjure up too many filthy apparitions, and Eönwë must not be distracted from his task. The Host of the Valar cannot afford to fail. 

Now, those hands hold Gil-Galad by his elbows the same way Arafinwë holds his bridled horse by the reins to control it. Gil-Galad sprawls his fingers over Arafinwë's hip bones as Arafinwë leans closer and reels him in.

They are kissing now, and Eönwë digs his fingers into the arms of his chair; he will bleed  from the beds of his nails before he blinks before he allows himself to acknowledge before he lets his lips part on the panting gasp of air that writhes in his lungs.

Gil-Galad's mouth parts easily for Arafinwë, but he doesn't stay passive. He pulls Arafinwë closer and slides his hands up Arafinwë's sleek back until he can cradle Arafinwë's head in his hands. It makes Arafinwë tighten up and take what he's given, pulling a moan from his throat that sounds almost unwilling.

"Come," Gil-Galad murmurs against Arafinwë's damp skin, "Let him hear you. Let him see how much you want this," and Arafinwë's eyes shudder closed. "Let him know ," Gil-Galad says, and Arafinwë makes a sound so wanting, so dark, that Eönwë wishes everything and everyone far away so that he could put his own hand on his cock without fear of repercussion, of shame.

His eyes slip closed, and he cannot help but let out a breathy moan, swept away.

"Herald," Gil-Galad says, and Eönwë's eyes snap open again only to light on Gil-Galad on his knees, drawing Arafinwë's trousers down slowly, decadently, like the slide of dark blue cloth over Arafinwë's knees is somehow beautiful. The sight of Gil-Galad looking up at Arafinwë and Arafinwë looking down, and their lust akin to desperate worship passing between them, will reduce Eönwë to nothing.

His fingers ache from their grip on the chair, from not being in contact, from not touching . He feels every place that the laces of his clothes constrict his skin, reminding him that he's trapped -in his armor, in his role as herald of the Valar, in his own propriety. Gil-Galad's trousers have fallen low enough to reveal the curve of his arse, and Arafinwë is naked save for the shackles of his clothing, loose around his ankles. As Eönwë watches, Gil-Galad opens again for Arafinwë, only this time for his cock - his mouth is hungry, arrogant, and eloquent as it takes Arafinwë in.

Arafinwë's spine bows and noises like this are destroying him, and he welcomes it, just rounded beautiful syllables of nonsense. Eönwë thinks he can ride this out and look away (his wings flutter nervously) until Arafinwë's hand fists in Gil-Galad's dark hair and draws his head back so that they look at each other again. The way their eyes meet, and the thin dribble of saliva that connects them from Gil-Galad's mouth to where Arafinwë is hard - the ties that bind them are so strong.

"Eönwë," Arafinwë breathes as Gil-Galad draws him down to the floor so they can kneel together. "Eönwë, look at me." His voice is barely more than a breathless whisper.

Eönwë does as he's told and stares hard at the scene before him as Arafinwë pushes Gil-Galad back onto the skin rug. "This isn't something you have to hide from," Arafinwë rasps, and as he unfastens Gil-Galad's trousers, Gil-Galad reaches into his pocket and produces a bottle. His eyes are unfocused with every curl of Arafinwë's fingers on his body, but he doesn't need focus - Arafinwë has enough of that, sloppy and warm though it is.

Gil-Galad nude is pink-brown and lush-looking, darker than Arafinwë, flushing red on contact. Arafinwë eases one of his legs up into a tight bend, foot flat on the floor, and reaches between them with fingertips slicked with whatever Gil-Galad's bottle contained. 

"This isn't something you must hide from," Arafinwë repeats. "This is something you can have. Watch me, Eönwë," he bites his lip and presses his fingers home. Gil-Galad's body roils under his attention; his face turns to Eönwë, mouth a hungry wet space, his eyes deep, dark, and disbelieving.

"Please," Gil-Galad says, loud and crackling, and Eönwë doesn't know who he's pleading with. Arafinwë does - he kneels in the spread of Gil-Galad's thighs, pulls them together, and aligns himself carefully but quickly. " Please ."

"He's ready for me," Arafinwë says and starts to lean forwards and in. "He's done this before; he likes it -" Arafinwë's face flushes beautifully - Gil-Galad's is wrecked.

Eönwë will not; he  will not try to guess how that feels. He will not put himself in that sordid dream; he will not want this. There are claw marks on the wooden arms of his chair where he has scored deep in his determination. He will wash his clothes himself rather than let Arafinwë or the others see his weakness in sweat marks and the stains on the inside of his small clothes where his cock rubs, already damp and only getting wetter in dripping pulses.

"- but when you do this to me, I'll be tighter, you'll have to go slower, Eönwë, you'll have to be soft with me. I - I haven't, before -"

"Please," Gil-Galad says again, interrupts, and it's Eönwë he's begging now, "Eönwë, it has to be both of us." Arafinwë's beyond talking now, his body making slapping noises, groans, twisted breaths, but no words. Gil-Galad levers himself up, arching like a cat and trying to drag himself closer. "Eönwë, he needs  you -"

Eönwë is the weakest of the maiar at that moment, but he could never ignore a plea. His shirt he tears, his trousers and small clothes he drops as he stands, and the rug bunches under his knees as he grabs the bottle that had fallen to the side. Arafinwë is rutting now, sunk between Gil-Galad's legs and hardly moving except for the shuddering rolling of his hips.

The bottle is full of oil. Eönwë almost fumbles it, but Gil-Galad's hand comes up to catch it. "Steady," the younger high king says in a voice that is anything but. "You will know what to do." He pushes himself up, and Arafinwë slips out, hissing as he does so. Arafinwë drops to all fours pliantly, his head hung low between his shoulders, and Gil-Galad gentles him with a hand on his jaw and one in his hair, soft kisses to his eyelids and the corners of his mouth.

Eönwë wants to watch the intimacy between the elves longer, but more than that, he burns to give Arafinwë what he desires, and Arafinwë, with his back bowed and his legs spread, is telling him what that is. So Eönwë wets his fingers and begins.

At some point, one finger sliding becomes two pushing, three begging. Arafinwë's voice has returned, and his words have been lost again in the mire. Eönwë looks up to see Gil-Galad's hands tangled in Arafinwë's golden hair, drawing Arafinwë's mouth up and down his cock slowly.

Gil-Galad's eyes are butter-soft, fire-warmed when he says, "Now, Eönwë." Eönwë kneels up and finds his way home.

Arafinwë's body is a vice, is a vise - it corrupts him, holds him firm, and sinks into the sin of it, the surety and the surrender, gives himself to it. His own actions become a hazy mirage, something he cannot track because he has this glorious heat, and it has become all he can feel.

He and Gil-Galad have Arafinwë between them, the shortest distance there has ever been between them, connecting them like a line. Arafinwë and Eönwë fit like a weld fixing a break between halves rather than connecting two wholes. 

One by one: Gil-Galad, then Arafinwë, then Eönwë, they spend themselves, and Gil-Galad's release drips from Arafinwë's mouth like honey from the comb. Arafinwë spits himself on Eönwë and comes to completion with a sobbing cry and a twisting, desperate motion like he has to push himself yet further. Gil-Galad holds him up with stiff fingers and soft kisses until Eönwë loses himself in Arafinwë's body.

And he is lost. Perhaps he will never be able to return home unchanged after all that has trespassed, but he has the two high kings to guide him. Eönwë is the weakest of maiar. But Eönwë does not have to be alone any longer.

#Ainur secret Santa #eonwe #arafinwe #gil galad #this is just smut #Eldritch maiar

[gil-galadhwen]

Hello, my beloved!

What about writing some "touch yourself" with Gil-gadaddy? :3

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY, LOVELY! 💝

And to all the Gil-gadaddy lovers out there, this one's for you! 😜

Gil-galad x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary & warnings: Reader is a little anxious at the high king’s request, but soon gains courage 👀 This isn't super graphic but still NSFW (maybe I’m desensitised? Idk)

Notes: I used a few Quenyan words I got from elfdict dot com - Írima (lovely, beautiful, desirable.) Melda (beloved, dear, sweet.)

Word Count: 500+

***

Touch Yourself

You keep your eyes closed and teeth clenched as you fight the urge to balk.

“Just breathe,” a familiar voice says close to your ear. “You are trembling.”

You do as you’re told and force air through your nose. You focus on how cool it feels as you send it down to your lungs, to your core. 

You’ve dreamt of this moment. Imagined being invited into High King Gil-galad’s rooms, being pressed against his desk while he kisses you until you forget yourself. It’s an idle dream, private and mostly incidental. While you know the King had noticed you, you never thought he would make your dreams come true in the most anxiety-inducing way imaginable.

“I want you to touch yourself,” Gil-galad whispered against your throat, his voice deep and rich with longing. 

You freeze beneath him, and the cushions under your back suddenly feel as hard as stone. 

Gil-galad shifts back to look at you, his hand reaching up to brush the hair from your face. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Írima. But I want you in so many ways that I do not know where to start.”

Your cheeks flush at the sentiment. You look up into his eyes, gentle brown gleaming in the soft lighting. There’s a calmness in them, a steadiness that seems at odds with his usual demeanour, and you understand the kind of power he’s handing to you. The rapid beats of his heart beneath your hand should have told you as much.

You gently push the king back until you’re both upright. “Go and sit over there,” you say, nodding towards the chaise lounge across from the bed. 

With a small smile, Gil-galad obeys, adjusting his silk robe as he perches on the lounge while you slide to the edge of the bed.

You raise your eyes to his and find that anchor in his gaze again while you push your clothing to the side and spread your legs wide. 

You watch the king swallow as he takes in the sight of you, rich and ripe for his taking. Leaning back on a hand, you slide the other up your thigh and down the inside, stopping just before the apex.

“Melda,” Gil-galad murmurs. “I was mistaken, it should be me–”

“Hush,” you say, admonishingly. “You wanted this, you will get your turn, I–” You sigh as your fingers brush against your soft skin. You don’t know how, but it feels more incredible than it ever has in all the times you’ve pleasured yourself before. 

Across the room, Gil-galad leans forward, murmuring words of encouragement. You keep watching him, imagining it’s him. Imagining his hands pressing into you. His lips, hot against your skin. His hips thrusting…

Gil-galad stands abruptly, his robe falling open to reveal his naked desire.

“My king,” You whisper, awed at the sight of the magnificent creature who is falling to his knees before you. 

Pressing the gentlest of kisses to your thigh, he pushes your legs a little wider.

“Now, it is my turn.”

#happy valentines day! #gil gadaddy x reader #gil galad x reader #rings of power #lotr #tolkien #trop fanfiction #fanfiction #smut fic #smut prompts #my writing

[searchingforserendipity25]

prompts to choose from!! gil-galad/anyone + pet names OR finrod/beor + chains OR eonwe/finarfin + fealty

this was so hard to choose (and i might come back with more stuff for the other options). here's some galad/gwindor. thank you so much for the ask @welcomingdisaster! you've opened my heart to deeper gil-galad appreciation <3 <3

@silmsmutweek. day three. prompt: liege/vassal, trans and nonbinary identities (and some supernatural elements):

acquaintances you greet in the street

It was not as strangers that they met, nor lovers reunited beyond death. It was all a thing anew - a new knowing, rich with recognition and marvel, an eager reacquaintance. Gwindor could not wait to escape his company. 

“I am afraid I have a commitment in the morrow,” Gwindor said firmly. 

Gil-Galad's braids shone with the cuffs and seashell beads of the Falathrim; the swift expanse of his movements, as he spoke and made his bracelets and rings catch the light was all Noldor; the eloquence of his tongue and manners were spoken in the way of the Sindarin spoken in the time of his reign, a dialect all its own. Gwindor would have known him anywhere, under any name. It was not as strangers that they met, nor lovers reunited beyond death. It was all a thing anew - a new knowing, rich with recognition and marvel, an eager reacquaintance. 

Gwindor could not wait to escape his company. 

“Surely not so soon,” Gil-Galad said, sounding genuinely disappointed, as if he truly did yearn for another long hour of trading island gossip and studiously not speaking of anything that had taken place before the Third Age with the living specter of his old betrothed.

Of his old life, older by far than his death, and finished not less violently or thoroughly. Gwindor had taken care not to cross paths with him, up and down the narrow sandstone alleys of Avallonë, for nearly a year now, and not merely to spare himself from grief and awkwardness.

"A very pressing engagement," Gwindor stressed. He would not rise from the blankets and the pillows, leave the plates with the last of the fruit to the flies and go without leave, would not be discourteous towards the king for anything - and therefore he had done his best to avoid him altogether.

Gwindor’s heart tripped on itself again. He did have a commitment - the goats would not milk themselves. Most importantly, Gelmir would tease him mercilessly until Túrin returned to destroy Morgoth if Gwindor arrived late and starry-eyed after being surprised in the streets by his old betrothed.

He had his house in the hillside to return to - the date trees with the sly cats sleeping in the hot adobe of the steps, the small, kindly bats that liked to skim the top of his head to steal fair strings of hair to play with. Always his house kept its doors opens, to welcome the breeze, and those that came, at times, to greet and speak with Gelmir and Gwindor.

Gwindor had been the first to return to life, of those that had been enthralled by Morgoth. He owed much to the guidance of those that had been freed with the fall of Angband, and had welcomed him through his slow and faltered Return. In his turn he welcomed the ones that wished for counsel. Most often all that was wanted was a quiet place, some tasks to do in his workshop, warm food and silent company.

He had wondered. When Gil-Galad came to the island - for it was known in all the songs that the last king of Beleriand and Eregion had been lost in spirit long Ages before coming back to life. But never did his shoulders stand against the threshold of the house in the hills; and Gwindor had told himself to be glad all the way through, for it meant the king was not so desperate as to seek even his company.

Gil-Galad did not press again outright; only smiled again, something sharper around the edges. "I understand perfectly. Will it be the crate of oysters this time, or do you mean to flee me in such fright as to jump into the sea?"

He was almost unbearably handsome to look upon when he was being prickly. It hurt Gwindor with a sweet and blooming ache, as much as it had when he had caught a glance of him coming down the quay, arriving to the island of his people - and immediately hidden behind a barrel of fresh mussels to avoid being seen.

"I," Gwindor said, very politely. "Am quite certain I know not of which you speak, lord; but I am certain there shall be plenty of mischances, if you wish for them to pass."

An accident, their meeting - A happy mischance, Gil-Galad had named it. Gwindor doubted it. Gil-Galad did not believe in accidents; they had courted each other with many an unlikely ambush by the shores of the river Sirion, once.

An invitation for a drink, in the stretch of pale sand in front of the king's sea-facing house - and another, and a platter of fish, fried fruit and honeycomb. All of Gwindor's old favourite indulgences, and other ones, too, in case his tastes had changed with death and new life. Gil-Galad had poured the wine, cooked the marvellous dinner, smiled his slow, dazzlingly rakish smile at Gwindor over the candles and the tablecloth spread on the sand no less than five times. 

This was quite enough for an evening out. The king was generous; Gwindor did not cheapen his kindness in the least, but neither did he suppose any greater intent to be behind it. 

The stars were high in the sky, their light glinting upon Gil-Galad’s long braids, his fair lashes; and Gwindor kept remembering himself sternly that fealty was well, infatuation was to be expected, but there was nothing else to make him linger.

 Gil-Galad met his eyes evenly, as if relenting. Gwindor did not believe that, either.

He offered a kind hand for Gwindor to hold. A friend might do such a thing in parting, and a lord to his vassal; Gwindor had no right to it as either, but he could not have shamed such generosity for anything.

"Farewell, then, dear friend," said Gil-Galad, a little pointed, holding out his hand for clasping. He tilted his chin, met his eyes charmingly. "May it not be the last I meet sweet Gwindor in this life; rare has there been so welcome a sight to my eyes since my return."

Gwindor ought to have done better and more courteously; but the familiarity unmade him a little. Perhaps Gelmir was right, and he did spend too much time with his woodwork, wandering the groves of olive trees, because despite himself a noise of disdain slipped his throat at the words.

Gil-Galad straightned, pale brows drawing together in a frown, and it was enough for Gwindor's heart to leap.

The king of the Noldor looked down at Gwindor, close enough to grasp and as distant and proud as a star, and said, "Do you doubt me?"

"Never," Gwindor said, appalled at the notion. "You need prove nothing to me, lord."

"O, I am certain I do! I hoped you knew it, though I would not wonder if you were uncertain!” Gil-Galad raised a hand to forestall any denials. “I do not apologize for the course of my heart - you never wished for such entreaties, and I would love you less if you had. How bitterly I know now the sting of that kindness! I live, and I look upon you, marveling at your strength; and I do find you most lovely to behold.”

This was a bit too plainly an offer to be quite convincing, Gwindor thought, though he could not what kind. He wondered whether it was the gifts and interest of a courtship - or something like it, an encounter between people that had cherished and pitied each other greatly.

If he were a greater fool he might suspect a lordly offer - meat and mead, a place to rest as the stars rose, an offer of protection and vassalage and shared devotion of the kind that had been usual in Nargothrond, made popular by Felegund after his meeting with the Edain, and his exchange of vows with Bëor.

He was not quite certain how tightly he had managed to hide away the thought; Gil-Galad's frown deepened.

Aloud, Gwindor insisted. "You have given me more of your time than ever I could think to claim." More quietly, he added, "Your kindness does me honour beyond expectation, king. I thank you truly for your time this evening."

He did not mean to sound bitter. He did not sound bitter, not even to his own ears; he was well past such things. But his voice was weary - he thought once more of his house with its pale curtains, his brother's limping steps on the porch, so like his own. He had grown - unused, to being looked at so intently.

“Honour! I should hope so," Gil-Galad said - and it was so like Gwindor's own tone in the worst days, dismayed and seeking to hide it, that he could not help how wanting to reach out. "It is my pleasure; and my obligation, if you would have me as liege. I see now that that was a presumptuous hope."

It was remarkable how mobile his face was - when last Gwindor had known him, there had been a terrible stillness over his expression. Nothing of his this verve - only a terrible passion, and the persistent foresight of its terrible end to come. Gwindor was sorry at once to watch the line of his back grow sterner, even as he could not help looking away from the slant of his mouth, movement of his bare arms, the chest hidden by his loose doublet.

Gwindor could not help himself - he stepped forward just before Gil-Galad's preferred hand could fall entirely to his side.

He could not bear to watch that shadow come again over this beloved face, and to know himself the cause. It had been hard enough to bear, the first time, when he could do nothing to ease it - and this time, Gil-Galad's doubt was almost as ridiculous as Gwindor's evasion tactics.

It was entirely unfair, Gwindor thought very faintly, how some people left the Halls of Mandos radiant with new life, brimming with great internal joy and offering it lightly, easily to all old friends that crossed their path - unfair to them, who felt the world with renewed sensitivity, and felt all losses keenly. Gil-Galad was one such, plainly.

Of course, Gwindor had returned at peace with himself and his deeds, his failures and defiance, bearing those scars he chose and no others. But like most of those that returned with the marks of thralldom visible upon their flesh, he had chosen to pilgrimage in the green wilds of Valinor before rejoining society, and struggled to gather the same ease in company that had once been his without a thought.

He spoke with his heart instead, and little grace, and hoped greatly that it was enough not to make Gil-Galad step even further away from the circle light of their resting place amidst the dark beach.

"You have ever have my fealty. Take you as my liege, in this time of peace!" Gwindor’s words trembled, almost laughing. It was absurd to say it - to speak of it aloud, to have cause to mention it. “My lord, I would choose you always, in war or peace, to Doom and beyond Doom. Surely you had always known this.” 

Gil-Galad did not seem better able to look away from him. He accounted it a marvel merely to feel those strong fingers slot between his own. To feel that heart’s steady beating once more, so dear a song. So, too, Gil-Galad looked at their pressed palms - with a glittering eye, a deep and well-pleased sigh.

His hold was so warm. Gwindor had not noted how cold the night had grown, and found a shudder sliding down his back now.

He grasped his palmed Gwindor’s arm, and smoothed his fingertips over the gentle skin of his wrist. Where once the thick scars of shackle burns had been, thin lines remained - soft, soft to the touch, where Gil-Galad kissed them. 

Gwindor’s eyes burned. He looked at the bent head of silvered hair blindly, the hands that did not flinch from him - something out of a fever dream, or a bitter wish swallowed down. Something he had died for, in another life. 

"Say that again," Gil-Galad said. Gwindor shivered to look at him, for his eyes were very bright, and all the power of his voice very even. "It pleases me so, to hear you say it! I like being your lord, Gwindor. Sweet Gwindor, faithful to the last! I missed you more than you think, more than you know. Say I may be your friend, your lover, he that has you faith - say you will honour me and do me honour, as ever you did."

Sweet Gwindor he had been, by the green shores of the Sirion, in the glittering caves and carved halls of Nargothrond. Sweet Gwindor clad in mail and iron armour, pressing his brow and his lips to his lady's hand before he went to war.   Sweet Gwindor, well after all the sweetness was tormented out of him, when her hand was cold as dead in his, that cold dawn when Orodreth's host followed Túrambar to ruin.

"Lord," Gwindor said helplessly. He was stricken through, catching fire. Gil-Galad's words were as a spark on dry kindling, the tender-talk on that deep voice that had stolen his heart and, it seemed, kept it still. Gwindor was altogether chagrined at himself - or he supposed he would be in the morning, if he could think sensibly by then. "My lord."

He could not keep himself from smiling. There had been a time when even to move his face and pretend at pleasure was an effort, and another when he did it rarely not to discompose those who saw him - but Gil-Galad pressed an inquiry, skimming it gently over his mind, and the touch of his mind was so much his own that Gwindor thought his face might never lose this foolish look of delight again. 

There was no need to pretend. He had conceded to going mad for the evening already. He gave his accent, and could not quite help the way his breathing went fast and uneven when Gil-Galad touched the edge of his scarred wrist reverently, kissed his chin and his cheeks, huffing his own smile against him.

“Finally I catch you,” he said, smiling, enthralling in his arrogance - Gwindor’s knees almost failed him for the rush of warmth that filled him. “My erstwhile warrior never to be found in the training houses, my wise counsellor that avoids every meeting I call and all the ones I might attend perhaps, how pretty you are.”

“My lord you may be, but a horrid one,” Gwindor accused. “Terrible, always. I have changed my mind; I think I shall go without mastery again, or find Lord Finrod -”

Gil-Galad's laughter was close enough to thrum in Gwindor's own chest. His dimple deepened sweetly, even as his eyes glittered with the power of his attention.

"Go, certainly, if you wish to! - the sea is right there waiting for swift escape, and I am certain boulder yonder by the dunes will hide you well. Finrod would seat you gladly at their table, and Orodreth as well. But valued as Gwindor of Avallonë is, and accounted most highly among Returned and Exiles, I think you may find they have not felt your lack as keenly as I."

It could not be denied that Gil-Galad had always been an excellent and eager host.

And an excellent and eager kisser, too. Gwindor had nearly taught himself to forget it. Gil-Galad's hand caught Gwindor’s hip, pulled him flush against his strong thighs; his mouth swallowed Gwindor’s gasp in a greedy, familiar embrace. 

His blood rose fast, as he had known it would if given the slightest incentive. It was not Gwindor’s first encounter since returning to life, but the first in a long time. And even if it had not been, he felt helpless and well-kept under Gil-Galad’s strong grip. 

He tried to restrain himself a little more in embarrassment, but Gil-Galad bit the tip of his ear, and chided him for it.

It was too much. To be alive - to be given food and shelter, and a promise freely given. Gwindor almost regretted not having fled the island entirely - his chest hurt with feeling, and as wholesome as all of Lorien's healers agreed that it was to feel it, he was not certain just then he could do justice to their teachings.

“My lord Ereinion,” Gwindor said. Tears sprung to his eyes; he dashed the first of them away, before Gil-Galad took that duty over for himself. He could not allow for there to be any doubt - not between them, not after so long! “You must know I regret nothing - only that I could not outlast my end, and live to serve you longer.”

The words leapt from him and left him aching, as heartful and fervent as ever he had whispered his devotion to the same mouth, in another continent and in another Age to someone bearing a different name.

Gil-Galad’s face shone, ferocious and fey in the candlelight. He was a stranger; but Gwindor adored him not the less for it.

“Then serve me in this life, that I might have your counsel always; and that we shall heed each other a little better,” he said warmly, and let his own eyes fill with saltwater without shame or embarrassment.

He draped his warm grasp on the small of Gwindor’s back, holding him steady - lightly enough that he could step back, if he wished, meaningfully enough that there was no question as to his offer.

Gwindor shivered again. Gil-Galad's fingers splayed wide and strong against his spine were enough to dry his throat, wake his body to his own desire.

“If you wish it,” said  Gil-Galad. He made no move to shrug away the hand Gwindor laid on his arm to steady himself, but neither, Gwindor understood, was he keen on baring his skin to touch. He pressed his nose to Gwindor's neck for a moment, nuzzled gently at the side of cheek. “I have no ring of lordship to offer you, nothing but myself - and myself you know better than none I shall not give lightly, nor offer any promise that I cannot keep. Yet I should like to give you a mark of my esteem, for the faith you have given me anew. Thy lord I would be, and thy king, and in the love of fealty I hold thee most dear. Gwindor, pray let me -"

Gwindor had been of a roving bent in his youth, a warrior in the service of king Finrod, and had loved the heir of the steward of Sirion for his open doors, his devoted care for the people that followed Orodreth. Gil-Galad had turned all of himself to upholding the governance of Nargothrond in Finrod’s absence, as much as had been allowed and possible to him. 

It was no wonder, then, that he had done the same to the crown of the Noldor, after all others that might claim it perished. No wonder that Gwindor’s wandering heart turned to him still so easily. Everything in him was warm and fulfilled, glad beyond words to see those eyes, that neck, to feel that mind rustle against his - bright as ever and brighter still, changed and altered to a fiercer gleam. 

And just as beloved. Turning down another alley and escaping to his quiet and well-beloved house would not have changed it - he was glad, after all, that Gil-Galad at least was brave enough to set an ambush, call his name, take his hand under the stars.

This, Gwindor despaired, was why the silly scurrying had seemed so necessary. He would permit Gil-Galad anything. He would give him whatever measure of him he wished to have, and resent not a morsel of it. To be known as he was and know again was the easiest thing. It had never been his pride or his trust that was wounded; only himself. And Gil-Galad, who made himself anew, and was doing it again, and had sought him out as a thing to be brought back and prized from the wreck of the long years.

He showed Gil-Galad what he had seen, when he had spied his coming to Tol Eressëa. The great stranger so familiar to his eyes, the king that embraced so many in greeting, whose eyes caught the sunlight with wisdom and might. Uncrowned and plainly-dressed, still he had been to the eyes of any who saw him a lord of power, venerable and good.

Gwindor had heard all the tales, all the lays and histories of his reign; he had loved him without knowing it, and known he loved at the sight of him. It had been him that Gwindor had longed and avoided in his longing, the one he had wished to follow and hoped while hoping to be sought by.

Anything, Gwindor thought, shedding the bindings that bound back his thought as if from a stranger. I am thine, from your hand I should take any gift as a pledge and a joy, and his king sighed happily.

Anything was a great deal. A careful hand held his hip; the other stroked over rib and hip, parting his way to the inside of his robes. Gil-Galad bent down from his great height, kissed him deeply and deeply, until Gwindor leaned on him entirely.

He moved against him, almost blindly; and stilled an instant later, uncertain, flush rising from his breast and filled his neck, stained his ears. But Gil-Galad only laughed, the bright sound of his voice turning the evening silver, calling down the starlight -  pulled him all the closer. He slotted their mouth and legs again easily, tilting down to kiss Gwindor’s collarbone.

Slowly, and then all at once, he released his mind and his spirit from himself, to be taken and held in the tender shackles of Gil-Galad's rule. He felt very clearly how the king's breath hitched; the molten satisfaction that seeped through Gil-Galad entirely.

Gil-Galad reached out to hold him with his mind, all gratitude entangled with vindication, a righteous and fierce joy strong enough to leave Gwindor panting, jerking against him, light-headed and lust-drunk.

“Dear one,” Gil-Galad sighed, stroking him with slow, indolent strokes Gil-Galad's hold tugged him smooth and unchanging, impossibly steady.  Gwindor cried out, obeyed him command, let him guide the rhythm of his hips and his pulse. “Truest, sweetest Gwindor, how great a joy it is to hold thee again,” and Gwindor shuddered, trembled, fell apart: grasping Gil-Galad’s broad shoulders, gasping against the golden-silver of Gil-Galad’s braid when Gil-Galad bit the soft underside of his neck.

Gwindor sighed. As far as plain marks of claiming went, he supposed it was traditional enough the lore-masters could not complain, and it would do until a ring could be found. But really -

"Stars above, my king, Gelmir is going to be insufferable," he sighed; and Gil-Galad's shoulders shook with laughter clear enough to make the very night shine with it.

#ereinion gil galad #gwindor #silm fic #silm smut #my fics #silmsmutweek #gil-galad/gwindor #gil galad x gwindor #gil galad

[undercat-overdog]

Once upon a time, the brilliant @aipilosse and I realized that Annatar's name could be abbreviated as "Atar". We subsequently dub-conned each other into writing daddy kink. The result of this was the series (ann)Atar. Some fics in the series are also tagged with RoP, since they were inspired by show leaks (but written before it aired).

Previously in the anon collection, now unanon.

Atar - Like us, Celebrimbor realizes how Annatar's name can be shortened. Rough sex, a headhopping pov, and many "Oh, Atar"s ensue.

Atar Knows Best - teasing leads to rough blow jobs. We researched citrus horticulture for this.

Adar - genuinely one of my favorite fics that either Aipi or I have ever written and I'm proud of it. Inspired by learning that the show would have a character named Adar. Exactly 16969 words of smutty brilliance with... well, with lots of kinks. Sauron gets fucked in this one. He also disturbs dust motes to give himself a halo.

Gil-adar - inspired by another summer show leak, in which Gil-galad's actor said the character sees himself as something of a father for Middle-earth. Gil-daddy comes to Eregion to take control of two naughty boys, impact play in the first (and so-far only) chapter ensues. Solo written by myself.

Grown-up Conversations - Tyelpe gets himself into trouble, yet again. This one anticipated Haladriel. Omorashi and snotty, snobby Celebrimbor. Also jokes about threesomes with Turin. Solo written.

#my fic #co-written fic #aipilosse #celebrimbor #sauron #gil-galad #silvergifting #tbh daddy kink is so much easier to write when you can use atar/adar/ada/atya instead of daddy or father #partly inspired to deanon by annoyance at treating smut as a lesser or inappropriate genre #but also i really like these works! #oh cowriter i've gotten so much joy from these

[nightie-after-midnight]

literally drawn and posted just for @lordgrimwing

let Gil-Galad and Elrond have some sex that they both enjoy.

on my last post i just used a Read More line to hide the content but today we are trying the actual mature label

#my art #gil galad #elrond #gil galad/elrond #smut #but it's art #the silmarillion #silm #silm art #as you will find LordGrimwing will be the one of who often bullies me into posting my art here #lotr #rated e #elves #posted this on my main bt accident #tbh having two blogs is such a pain

[queenmeriadoc]

Once again I am reading this gorgeously horny fic, Pure Art by @starlady66 a Celebrimbor x Gil-Galad x NB!Reader smut fic

#the rings of power #rings of power #rings of power smut #x reader #x reader smut #celebrimbor x gil galad x nb!reader #smut

[lordgrimwing]

Smut #06

Things that suck in this story: school finals, breakups, Glorfindel.

[word count: ~1000]

March was a lovely time of year: daffodils and crocuses poking up through set grass, birds singing in the trees, the sun shining down in a warm and comforting glow—call him a romantic, but Glorfindel loved springtime, and seeing as March welcomed spring in all her glory, he loved the month too. This was the time for walking hand-in-hand through the city with someone special, planting window box gardens with the late-blooming flower someone off-handedly mentioned liking last fall, and relaxing dinners together out on porches as the sun sets over the budding foliage and rooftops. 

March also happened to be when his boyfriend, Erestor, had a lot of projects due for his university classes. If Glorfindel needed a reminder of why he was glad he’d finished his bachelor’s of accounting degree years ago (he didn’t), then watching Erestor fret over his honor’s thesis, organic chemistry midterm, and lab experiment all in the course of two days certainly did the trick. College sucked.

Erestor groaned and fisted his hands in the bedspread. Glorfindel grinned around his cock and bobbed down again, mouth loose and teasing with the back of his throat. 

“God,” Erestor moaned. “How did I not know you could do this until now?”

Glorfindel pushed a shoulder under Erestor’s pale thigh to hike his leg up a bit higher. Truth be told, he was a little out of practice with giving blowjobs, especially of the quality Erestor deserved today. Luckily, he’d gotten a lot of practice over the years and the muscle memory stuck around. Wherever this ended up scoring on his personal rank of best blows given, Erestor surely wouldn’t be thinking about school when he was done with him.

The sound of the front door opening and thumping shut interrupted his focus. He leaned back, about to pull off until Erestor put a hand on his head to stop him.

“It’s just Elrond,” Erestor said, face flushed. “He won’t bother us.”

Ah. Glorfindel met Elrond several times. He and Erestor had been friends since they were assigned as roommates in their first semester of school. The half-elf was nice in a reserved and unobtrusive way, friendly in what could have become awkward moments when Glorfindel was waiting for Erestor to get ready for a date, and always happy to give them space. He seemed like a steady kind of guy to have as a best friend. 

Glorfindel bent back to what he was doing with a passion. 

He stopped again when raised voices filtered past the closed bedroom door. 

“I’m not trying to be difficult!” One voice said, sounding on the edge of tears.

“You can’t even pick a place to get lunch,” said the second, exasperated, speaker. “I can’t make all the decisions in this relationship all the time!”

Erestor groaned in disappointment when Glorfindel pulled off. “They’re fine. They’re fine,” he reassured through panting breaths, his cock standing proud and very hard between them.

“They don’t sound fine,” Glorfindel said hesitantly. He wasn’t keen to go out there and walk into the middle of an argument, but he was also pretty sure Elrond was the one on the verge of crying over whatever was going down in the front room. 

Erestor wiped the back of a hand across his mouth. “They’re probably just going to break up. He’s used to it; it happens all the time. He’s just going to be embarrassed later if he knows we’re here.”

The ‘I’m so close right now, please get your mouth back on me’ went unsaid, but Glorfindel heard it anyway. With a little half shrug he licked his way down Erestor’s cock, then took him into his mouth again. He’d never given a blowjob in the middle of a lover’s tiff, but it also wouldn’t be the strangest situation he’d done one in.

He tried not to listen to the rather loud and increasingly fraught argument. Luckily, Erestory was very happy to help by putting his hands in Glorfindel’s hair and muttering about how unbelievably good he was at this. 

The breakup seemed to reach its culmination just as Erestor did.

“Look, Elrond, I can’t keep doing this.”

“Please, don’t go, Ereinion! I’ll do better. Please don’t go.” Elrond was definitely crying now, the kind of crying that left eyes red and puffy. 

Erestor gasped, his entire body going rigid with tension as Glorfindel swallowed and pulled him as deep as he could reach. Glorfindel worked him as he came, slipping his head out of his throat to use his tongue on it. Rising up from kneeling between his legs, he scooped an arm under each of Erestor’s legs and rocked him back to lie on the bed to get a better angle. 

The front door slammed shut. 

Erestor, flushed and sweaty, propped himself up on an elbow and tugged Glorfindel up to join him in a kiss. He came willingly, very pleased with his work. 

Elrond sobbed wretchedly into the couch cushions. 

Glorfindel had expected the crying to calm down by the time Erestor recovered enough to do more than cuddle. He was a little distressed to realize that wasn’t going to happen.

“He, uh, sounds really upset,” Glorfindel commented as Erestor finally struggled upright again, color returning to a more natural hue. 

Erestor sighed and looked around for his underwear and pants. Glorfindel helpfully passed him his discarded boxers. “Yeah, I should probably try calming him down before he makes himself sick.”

“Anything I can do to help with that? Does he like tea?”

Erestor offered an apologetic look as he shimmied into his jeans. “I suppose it would be insensitive to have my boyfriend hanging around, considering.”

“Probably,” Glorfindel had to agree.

Erestor made a face. “Sorry to tell you to leave after that. I promise I’ll return the favor next time.”

Glorfindel stood and smoothed his rumpled shirt. “Call me with an update later.” He suggested. “In case we need to change plans?”

“Sounds good,” Erestor agreed.

Glorfindel left after that. He cautiously walked through the living room, conscious of the weeping, brown-haired lump on the sofa. Elrond gave no signs of noticing him, and he slipped out the door just as Erestor sat down on the cushion next to his roommate. 

#He has risen and so has erestor's cock <-told someone i wouldn't add that to the tags yet here it is #love me some plot adjacent smut #glorfindel is so adorable right now #you know what i can never escape? the age gaps #don't mind the ereinion cameo he's a pivotal character but this isn't about him #silm smut #glorfindel #erestor #glorestor #glorfindel x erestor #elrond #gil galad #elrond x gil galad #twdd au #the silmarillion #grimwing writes #nsft

[doodle-pops]

Okay maybe on the tamer side? But after the anons i have to ask- 😳

Which elves loves to be body worshipped, and which ones love to bodyworship ( or both ! ) ?

You know, I had answered a question like this before or something similar and for the life of me, I can't find it 😭 so it's gonna be answered twice. More content

Elves Loving to Body Worship

𑁍 Fëanor, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Finarfin, Finrod, Aegnor, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Rog, Beleg, Galdor, Elrond, Gil Galad, Elladan, Elrohir

Elves Being Body Worshipped

𑁍 Fëanor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Fingolfin, Turgon, Finrod, Ecthelion, Egalmoth, Maeglin, Thingol, Erestor, Gil Galad

#📭{question} #silm smut #thingol #fingolfin #finarfin #maedhros #turgon #elrond #gil galad #egalmoth #rog #maeglin #beleg #finrod #celebrimbor

[last-capy-hupping]

I’ll Make a Path to the Rainbow’s End, my entry for @officialtolkiensecretsanta 2022 is completed! Chapters 2 and 3 Below!

Giftee to be revealed in December 24, 2022!

#silmarillion #maedhros #fingon #russingon #fanfic #gil galad russingonion #ereinion gil galad #trans fingon #trans pregnancy #trans male character #trans tolkien #nsft #shameless smut #soft family fluff #dads having fun while the baby sleeps #gil gadaddy #gil-galad the seal guardian #hithlum #himring #dor-lómin

[the-classy-villainess]

Deceiver

Dark!Halbrand (Sauron) x Elf!reader

Summary: The daughter of Gil-galad is seduced.

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: Dub-con/coercion + non-con. Toxic relationship. Possessiveness. Allusions to abduction. Mind & dream manipulation/control. Smut – unprotected p in v. Loss of virginity for both parties (trying to stay true to elf!reader, so sex = marriage). Minors DNI! 18+

Requested by Anon: “reader is the daughter of Gil Galad and Sauron seduces her with his beautiful words, but then Galadriel discovers Halbrand’s true identity and he becomes all dark, claiming reader and taking her with him to Mordor. Smut.”

I feel like I need to stress this because I’ve never posted smut before (especially for such a dark character). Please mind the warnings. If any of the things listed trigger you, don’t read any further. Halbrand is manipulative in this fic, to the point where the ‘reader’ cannot wholly differentiate their own thoughts from his. The sex is not consensual.

When he’d come to your chambers that afternoon you’d felt something had changed. There was a strange urgency in him, an urgency that saw him mutter only a quick greeting before his lips were on yours.

You welcomed his kisses, melted into them even, but his hands had never wandered so freely, and you couldn’t help but wonder just what had gotten into him when his fingers slowly rucked up your skirts and stroked the bare skin of your thigh.

“Halbrand? We can’t,” you gasped between kisses. “Not without my father’s blessing.”

He groaned into your mouth and clutched you that much tighter.

Even if you weren’t the High King’s only heir, it was unlikely that your father would bless the union of a man and elleth; not when such a union would bring only death and despair. Halbrand knew this as well as you did – it had frustrated him like nothing else.

“I care little for his blessing,” he panted, drawing away at long last to press his forehead against yours. “Ours is a fate that cannot be denied by any man, elf, or dwarf. Why else would we have been brought together if not for the work of some higher power – if not for the will of Ilúvatar himself?”

It was a lovely notion, a romantic one, that you had been brought together for a purpose – some greater fate like Beren and Lúthien or Idril and Tuor. You doubted either of you would have so great a part to play in the history of Middle Earth as they had, but your love could be just as special, just as boundless, if you allowed it to be.

“Let me have you,” he continued. “All of you, and no one will ever be able to refute our love – not even your father.”

“You do not know what you are asking of me,” you insisted, drawing back to meet his eye. “There are traditions – the feast, the rings, the blessings…”

“All of which can be forgone—”

“Only in times of war.”

He took your hands into his own and gazed at you imploringly. “Do you love me?”

You sighed. It was a question he asked more frequently now, as if he didn’t truly believe it when you told him as much, and it made your heart ache to think he doubted your devotion. You would do anything to prove it to him.

“I do. Of course I do. How could I not?”

He smiled, trailing his knuckles gently down your cheek.

“Then you know as well as I do, that you will never love another. Nor will I, for that matter.”

You will never love another. Only him. This crafty mortal man who had swept into Eregion with naught but the bloodied rags on his back and a charming smile on his face. He’d looked more a vagrant than a King the first time you’d seen him, but his quick tongue and quicker mind hinted at a greater knowledge gathered through life and lore, and you’d been helpless to resist him.

His arms had been safe, his lips had been soft, and his words had given you hope, the likes of which you hadn’t felt for centuries.

Those very same arms encircled your waist and drew you back into his embrace. Your head lolled forward onto his shoulder, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple.

“I would give you the world if you asked it of me. I’d gather you the greatest of armies, build you the tallest of towers. I’d fashion you the finest of rings, one fit for a Queen…” he trailed off softly, teasingly, and it brought a small smile to your face. “If only you would have me.”

You looked up into his eyes and splayed your hands over his chest, desperate to feel the steady thump of the heart beneath. One day it would beat no more, and neither would your own, for you would not remain in Middle Earth without him. You didn’t want towers, or armies, or rings. You wanted him, for however long you could have him, be it days or decades. He was right.

I will never love another, you agreed. What did old traditions matter?

“All right.”

He exhaled a slow, shaky breath that you felt reverberate in your palms, and his eyes, those lovely, mischievous eyes sparkled beneath his raised brow.

“Yes?”

“Yes,” you laughed.

The word had barely left you lips before he caught you in a kiss, fiery and consuming and desperate in a way his kisses had never before been. You’d always known him to be strong, but his hold on you – the arm wound around your waist and the palm cupping the back of your neck – felt unbreakable in that moment. As if he’d never let you go.

“You’ve no idea what this means to me,” he murmured against your lips. “What this will mean for us – together, you and I, King and Queen, we will rule Lindon and the Southlands. We will unite all of Middle Earth under one banner.”

Your brow furrowed at his words, at how out of place they sounded, as if they were part of another conversation altogether. Something is wrong, you thought.

Tell him you love him, more than anything.

“I love you, Halbrand. More than anything.”  

He shot you a slow smile, and his hold on you tightened. “I know you do, dove. I know you do.”

----------

No, you thought dazedly, it had not happened that way.

You loved him, you wanted him; you still do, you always will, a voice whispered back. There was something alluring in that voice, something persuasive, that made you think that perhaps it was right.

Then your surroundings shifted; day faded to night, and your back pressed firmly into the mattress of your old bed as he hovered over you, bare from the waist up.

His lips were on your neck, his hand buried inside your underthings – buried inside you. A sudden pleasure flooded your mind, an unnatural desire that barely felt like your own. You begged him to touch you, remember? You begged. You trembled with each pump of his fingers until your back arched, your walls fluttered, and you fell apart in his hold.

He withdrew wordlessly, and through the haze of pleasure you heard the rattle of his belt buckle and the rustle of fabric. Would you accept this man into your body? He seemed to think so, but you couldn’t remember for the life of you how this played out, not when such heavy desire clouded your mind.

“Halbrand…” Wait, you wanted to tell him, but your lips were strangely unresponsive.

And then he was on you again; peeling your ruined underclothes down your legs. His hands, warm and gentle, rubbed soothing circles into your knees, and you held your breath as he pried them apart and settled on the mattress between them. Your thighs twitched, as if you’d wanted to close them – had I? – but he held them firmly, with only a quick squeeze of warning to dissuade you.

His thumbs caught the hem of your shift and dragged it up past your hips. He stared at your bared flesh with a look that promised ruin, a look that made you feel young and naïve for the first time in centuries. Heat rushed to your cheeks as he met your gaze and pressed a gentle kiss to your folds. Then his hands drifted higher, gliding along your waist and rucking your shift up beneath your breasts.  

“Exquisite,” he murmured against your skin, trailing kisses along your navel, over your ribs, between your breasts.

He settled atop you, his length, hot and hard and leaking, bobbed against your navel as he hiked your thigh over his hip. It was the blunt press of him against your folds that cleared the haze from your mind, and uncertainty bloomed full force in its stead. Calm yourself. You want this. You’ve always wanted this.

Yes, you thought. All your life you’d waited for one to call your own. That you had gone so long without finding your match had raised concerns – often such things were a bad omen for one’s future prospects. And here you were, body bare and open to a man you father hadn’t even met yet.

You want this.

I want this.

You love him.

I love him, you agreed.

He caught your lips in an all-consuming kiss, a distracting kiss, and swiped his length along your folds, once, twice, before finally easing it inside you. Your body was tense, walls tight against his intrusion, and you whimpered into his mouth, palms pressing against his abdomen instinctively. The illusion of calm shattered.

“Shhh…” he soothed, prying your hands away and interlacing your fingers. “I have you.”

For reasons you couldn’t explain, his words didn’t bring the comfort they usually would, and you felt a tear spill over your cheek as he pinned your hands above your head and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“And now I’ll always have you,” he panted, breath hot and moist on your skin, as he worked you open with slow thrusts. The initial sting quickly faded and, as if sensing this, his thrusts grew faster, harder, hungrier.

You didn’t know how long you’d lain there, eyes screwed shut, as he sucked bruises into your skin and ravaged your insides, but you felt a strange sense of relief when at last he shuddered and collapsed against you.

The ache between your legs made your stomach churn. If it were the will of Ilúvatar then why did it feel so wrong?

----------

You woke with a start. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the candlelight, and when they did, dread pooled in your stomach. It had been difficult to count the days – here in this sunless land, where the air smelled of ash and sounds were limited to those of labour and the snarling, spitting language uttered by those creatures.

You’d only seen the beasts once before, when he’d draped you in black and paraded you through camp with an arm curled possessively around your waist – a silent warning. The rest of your time had been spent inside the large grey tent that was erected in the middle of camp while works continued on a more permanent lodging…something tall and black that loomed in the distance.

How long had he kept you here? How long had you endured these invasive attacks on your mind? How long until you could no longer tell fact from falsehood while he moulded your memories into something more palatable?

“Pleasant dreams?”

Halbrand lay in bed beside you, his lean body as bare as your own, and you hated that you still thought him beautiful. The thin sheen of sweat on his skin glistened in the candlelight, a sign of his exertion, and a reminder that even in sleep you would not be free of him.

Not Halbrand, you told yourself, but a different beast altogether.

He turned onto his side, head propped on his palm – suffocatingly close – and planted a soft kiss on your lips. His free hand traced lazy circles into the skin of your navel, the gold of his wedding band glittering mockingly as you felt the first stirrings of desire. Your modesty had been long forgotten in this place; all that remained was shame.

“You are not wrong for finding pleasure in this,” he murmured, as if knowing the direction your thoughts had taken. “How could you not, when we fit so perfectly together?”

“Why?” you rasped, throat tight, and eyes glassy. “Why do you still do this?”

His jaw twitched almost imperceptibly. You asked him this every time, and every time he rebuffed you. Not this time it seemed.

“Long have I walked these shores and never have I seen so fair a sight as your body laid bare before me.” He gave your hip an appreciative squeeze. “I wanted you in ways I’d wanted no other; I still do, I always will,” he added as an afterthought, and it echoed in your ears.

You loved him, you wanted him; you still do, you always will. Another falsehood, then.

“You blame yourself – don’t,” he urged with a consoling kiss to your temple. “You can kick and claw and scream yourself hoarse, and I will continue to have you. Such is the strength of my will...such is my right as your husband.”

He took a strange kind of pleasure in reminding you of his place in your life – reminding you that you would never be free of him. He would never let you go. 

“Why me?”

He grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned your head to face him. His eyes, the very same you’d lost yourself in countless times, were fervid and near unrecognisable as he gazed down at you.

“Because I am shadow,” he whispered. “And you are light, and when I’m inside you I feel a power unlike any other.”

“Oh, come now, none of that,” he chided lightly, swiping your tears away with his thumb. “Doesn’t it please you to know I’d never known such rapture before you? It would’ve been easy enough – those mortal whores throw themselves at anything with enough coin,” he scoffed.

“But you, an elleth…a beloved Firstborn, daughter of Gil-galad, Princess of the Noldor,” he rattled off with satisfaction and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your neck. “Your kind have only ever scorned me, hunted me. I knew you’d do the same if you ever glimpsed my true visage.”

“So I thought to come to you as Annatar. A form befitting your beauty and station,” he huffed a breathy laugh. “But you surprised me. You were so eager for this mortal man, you let him leave his marks on your skin, his seed in your womb.” You shuddered as he pressed a hand to your abdomen. He trailed his palm lower and dipped his fingers between your folds, admiring the mess he’d left there.

“And you’d let me do it all over again, wouldn’t you?” he mused, eyes darkening.

“No…” you gasped, squirming as he slipped a finger inside you.

“You would, wouldn’t you? Because you know as well as I do that despite it all, you will always love me. You will always love your husband – say it.”

It was a confronting thought, a painful thought, that in the eyes of the Eldar you were wed to this beast, bound to him for eternity. Your souls were one. Worse still was that he wasn’t entirely wrong. You wanted to hate him, wished it with your whole being, but you didn’t know how to.

“Halbrand, please!”

“Say it,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, with just enough sway to bend your will – to tear the words from you whether you wished it or not.

“I–I will always love you.”

To your relief, he withdrew, but your relief was short-lived. His lips curled smugly as he crawled over your body and nudged your thighs apart.

“I’m half tempted to discard this form, just to see if you’d love my others as freely as you love little Halbrand. But I think,” he hiked your thighs over his hips. “He’s not quite done breaking you in yet. Let’s try again, shall we?”

And once more, he dug his fingers into your body and his claws into your mind.

----------

AN: my main account wasn’t letting me post, so I posted this request here instead. The rest (which are much more tame and, in a way, more in character) will be posted on my main when I figure out what’s going on! :)

#sauron x reader #halbrand x reader #dark!halbrand x reader #rings of power fanfiction #rings of power fic

[feyhunter78]

Rings of Power Masterlist

Key: 🔥= NSFW 💕= My favs

Elrond Peredhel:

Snapdragons -> Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13

Reader Inserts:

Spilled Ink and Married Bliss����

A Herald and His Knight (Elrond x NB reader)🔥

The Princess and the Herald🔥💕

Another Use for his Writing Desk🔥

SFW Alphabet

NSFW Alphabet🔥

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Flattery and Breakfast

Durin and Disa: Matchmakers Extraordinaire, Pt 2🔥

The Object of All His Desires💕

Ice Skating Gone Wrong

The Day's End

Wedding Braids

Jealous Elrond Headcanon

Jealous Reader HC

Valentine's Day HC

Two Ripples in a Pond💕

Sleeping among the Scrolls

Accident Prone Princess💕

Dad!Elrond Headcanon

Elrond and Sick Reader HC

Long Day W/H Elrond HC -> Moodboard made by the lovely @emmyspov

Rough!Elrond Smut HC🔥

Elrond & Physically Affectionate Reader HC

Writer's Block!Elrond x Reader HC

Curious Minds

Take my Hand💕

Sit Down🔥 Pt 2🔥

Elrond Wedding HCs

Protective Prince

Purity in the Hurricane (Francesca by Hozier inspired)

Fratboy!Elrond: HCs, Poolside, Birthday

Elrond Snippets:#1

Gil-galad:

Reader Inserts:

The Queen's Father

The High-King's Love

#meg's masterlist #rop #rop fanfiction #elrond x reader #elrond x oc #elrond x maeria #elrond rop #rop elrond #young elrond #elrond x you #young!elrond #young elrond fanfic #gil galad x reader #ran out of room on the other one so now it has its own place to live

[runawaymun]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Tagged by: @zealouswerewolfcollector @melestasflight & @niennawept - thanks guys!!!!

Under the cut for length.

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

43 total. 26 on my reg runawaymun account, and 17 spicy works under spicy_runawaymun.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

466,324. Geez.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently just Tolkien. Mostly focusing on early third age and late second age. I used to write for Stargate and Doctor Who but that was like ten years ago.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

To Partake - 842 kudos - Longfic in progress. Elrond/Celebrimbor set in the second age, based loosely off The Rings of Power but it's really gone off the rails now because I didn't like some choices in the show and am trying to fix them haha. Show knowledge is honestly not needed because I stop following it after like the seventh chapter. Mostly an Elrond character study disguised as porn.

And the Stars Shine the Same - 695 kudos - Longfic, complete. a look at early third age Rivendell as told by two kids from proto-Rohan who get adopted into Elrond's family out of harsh and traumatic circumstances.

Beneath a Boundless Sky - 520 kudos - longfic and in progress. Sequel to above. Much wider scope. Dealing with the politics of proto-Rohan and exploring Fram's rise to power, while also keeping a firm focus on Elrond, his relationship with Maglor, and his relationship with his family. Oh yeah, and there's an eldritch monster in the mix (one that isn't Elrond that is!)

A Gown Spun from Starlight - 400 kudos - Thranduil x Reader insert oneshot. Mostly fluff.

Supine - 358 kudos - exploratory kidnap fam multi shot. Mostly Maedhros-centric.

Tinúvion - 289 kudos - Oneshot. Elrond and Sauron meet and hiss at each other and fight over Gil-Galad for 1972 words. Sauron shits his pants. Transitive property Luthien-Elrond.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Sometimes often my spoons are low so I am not always as fast as I like. But I endeavor to respond to everybody!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Ohhhhh. Let me think, here. Probably That We Are Still - in which Elrond has a foresight nightmare about Cel's death and they have sex about it, which fixes nothing.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them have happy endings, because I love happy endings and I've written a good deal of fluff! I think And the Stars Shine the Same has the happiest/most satisfying ending, though. But it's an unfair comparison because it's a longfic. But Never Doubt I Love (Russingon) has a happy/bittersweet ending that's one of my favs. And Equinox (Elrond and Lindir's first meeting) is just pure sugar haha.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not that I recall, honestly. Hopefully it stays that way. I've gotten one or two slightly homophobic comments but I believe the commenter meant well. It was a weird experience.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes! I find exploring how characters are sexual really really fascinating. It's like a microcosm of everything -- of their relationships, of their trauma, of their securities and insecurities. It's so interesting and fun! And especially the journeys that characters can take sexually, learning to open up and explore :) it's very rewarding. All of that is over on my spicy account. It's nearly exclusively Celrond but there's a few others in there.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I've written a few, but none on AO3. My favorite was one I wrote a long time ago where SG-1 (Stargate SG-1) got into a tangled up mission with the Eleventh Doctor and River. I also do a lot of daydreaming and play in my free time imagining my OCs from my original works winding up in middle earth. :)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had someone offer but if it wound up happening, I wasn't tagged, so I am not sure! But receiving the offer was very nice <3

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not any of the ones posted to AO3, but @the-commonplace-book and I have collaborated on a lot of work together! I'm always open to collaboration. It's so much fun.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

CELROND CELROND CELROND. Though Brimbrond is becoming a close contender now!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

All of them, really. I try not to doubt I will finish things and just trust my process. I am a naturally slow writer who's a perfectionist and tends to hop from project to project, which is why I focus myself on one or two longfics at most, and I just let the others percolate in outline form until I finish something. I used to not finish things ever and it drove me crazy, so I try my best to stay focused so that things will always get finished in their due time.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Prose. Action and horror. Long character arcs -- especially the unfolding of characters who are recovering from traumatic experiences. I have a pattern haha.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Descriptions of settings and characters (I know what they look like in my head and have to actively remind myself that this image isn't downloaded into someone's brain). Politics and schemes. And IMO I am not good at twisty plots. I tend to write pretty linear progressions with few unexpected surprises.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic.

I like peppering individual words here and there, or perhaps small phrases. Pet names, absolutely. But nothing more than that. IMO adding in language can really help ground a story in the worldbuilding.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Funnily enough, Tolkien. When I was a kid I set out to rewrite the entire books just from Merry and Pippin's perspectives. I did not get very far.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

I think it's honest to god And the Stars Shine the Same. I am obviously fond of To Partake, but Stars just is in its own special category for me. It came to me at the exact right time in my life when I really needed it. It's a very personal story, and it revived my love of writing and reminded me why I liked doing it.

I am rather late to this and I am not sure who has been tagged and who hasn't, so forgive me if I tag someone who has already done this! But no pressure tags for: @emyn-arnens @jaz-the-bard @lordgrimwing @greyjedijaneite @maglor-my-beloved and whomever else would like to participate!

#20 questions for fic writers

[searchingforserendipity25]

WIP TITLE GAME

Thanks so much to @sallysavestheday , @starsuncounted and @eilinelsghost for tagging me! Love the idea of a poll writing game.

The idea is for the poll to run for 24h. I do hereby commit to writing as many sentences as the winning option gets votes.

Tagging (with zero pressure!) @mayfriend, @meadowlarkx, @swanmaids, @jouissants, @theworldisquietheretooquiet, @melestasflight , @polutrope , @welcomingdisaster, @that-angry-noldo and whoever would like to participate.

#poll game #wips

[nightie-after-midnight]

Gil just going To Town on Elrond, as he deserves 

#my art #gil-galad #elrond #gil galad/elrond #smut #silm #silmarilion #silm art #elves #LET GIL EAT #rated e

[child-of-hurin]

Fic author interview meme - tagged by @anghraine!

Apologies if you've already done this and I missed it, but tagging @squirrelwrangler @undercat-overdog @chthonic-cassandra @hoeratius @outofangband @seagodofmagic and everyone else who sees this and feels like doing it :)

1- How many works do you have on AO3?

58, more than I thought

2- What's your total AO3 word count?

146,888

3- What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Surrender, 615 words, The Mirror Visitor, 149 kudos 2. Locked, forgotten, 1,6k words, ASOIAF , 91 kudos 3. With imperious hand, Fate turns the wheel,  8,8k words, Queen’s Thief, 85 kudos 4. Simple fix, 2,8k words, Supernatural, 77 kudos 5. Tied: Cupid and Psyche, 742 words, Queen’s Thief, 66 kudos A flower trampled underfoot, 1,9k words, Silmarillion, 66 kudos

I have a couple of anonymous/orphaned works that I can recall that have way more than any of this: one Azula/Zuko that has over 350 kudos and a Wincest fic that’s currently on 289! They’re both pure E-rated kink, so I think it figures hahaah.

4- Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, but sometimes I get a little stumped between a desire to respond in depth vs the conscience that ao3 comments are not really the place for fandom conversation…

5- What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

IMO, either my most recent Vinland Saga fic “Ordeal,” or my first posted fic ever, “Barren”, about Míriel and Pharazôn.

6- What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I’m thinking it’s probably “Washed Ashore”, a short fic that ends with Gil-Galad telling Círdan that Ëarendil is alive and returned with an army in tow.

7- Do you write crossovers?

no

8- Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I know I did but it was in an orphaned work and I can’t recall which, or what fandom it was for? But I think that’s why I switched to just publishing anonymously instead of orphaning it altogether, so I can still delete comments and stuff. Haven't had to, though.

9- Do you write smut?

Occasionally :) 

10- Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No

11- Have you ever had a fic translated?

I THINK so, because I remember someone asking me about it, but I can’t recall which fic or what language…

12- Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I wanna do that with Kate!!! Maybe one day

13- What's your all-time favorite ship?

The ship I’ve written the most for on ao3 is Irene/Gen from Queen’s Thief, and it’s definitely one of my top favorites!

14- What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

I don’t usually post fics unless they’re finished or very close to. So the answer is something in my fic folder tentatively called "A Mirror, Cracking", which is an AU of Niënor in Brethil, if she remembered who she was! I'm suuuper fond of it and likely never finishing it, I plan to post it unfinished at some point, amnesty-style.

15- What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m good at creating a dramatic scene! Or let’s put it this way: it’s what I enjoy the most when I write

16- What are your writing weaknesses?

I’d like to write longer, more committed stuff sometimes, but I find it very hard! I also think my prose is very commonplace, but it doesn't actually bother me.

17- What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I avoid doing that at all costs. I either put a descriptive indicating they’re speaking another language, or I say the POV character can’t make it out. I don’t think it’s tacky and I don’t judge it in writing, I just don’t like doing it myself.

18- What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Tolkien <3

19- What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

My dream is to write a Mediana/Ophélie fic for The Mirror Visitor, simply I think this ship is insanely hot and there was just one meager 155 word ficlet for it last time I checked! I have some notes for a fic but lost steam; maybe reading the English translation of those books will do the trick.

20- What's your favorite fic you've written?

I’m super fond of “A haunting”, one of my fics with the least amount of kudos... which I understand, because it really is one of those “I wrote this for myself but you can read it if you want to” cases—in terms of themes, characterization, style and format, corny quote at the beginning, etc, super indulgent. I really just had a lot of fun with it and it still touches me whenever I reread it, and I think the language and characterization are pretty solid! I like it a lot and I'm super proud of it :)

#actually I'm really fond and proud of my númenor fics in general... i also really like 'an account of the fall' #i think the quality of the writing there is above my usual technique-wise #and i think 'death of a lady' is still a very charming read if a little clumsy in parts #fic meme