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I don’t particularly care to make a new post for it, but here’s a connected fic exploring some things with Boromir, just under 4k words

midnight's an appropriate time to post a new fic, right? right.

4,600 words of Faramir having Complex Emotions about Boromir being alive and working through his depression & suicidal ideation after his father almost burns him alive. Featuring Boromir being an excellent older sibling, and Éowyn being a wonderful friend as well.

(link in notes)

#lotr #faramir&boromir #aragorn/boromir #boromir #aragorn #faramir

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🪻🪶 here's the link 🪶🪻

midnight's an appropriate time to post a new fic, right? right.

4,600 words of Faramir having Complex Emotions about Boromir being alive and working through his depression & suicidal ideation after his father almost burns him alive. Featuring Boromir being an excellent older sibling, and Éowyn being a wonderful friend as well.

(link in notes)

[2x4swrites]

midnight's an appropriate time to post a new fic, right? right.

4,600 words of Faramir having Complex Emotions about Boromir being alive and working through his depression & suicidal ideation after his father almost burns him alive. Featuring Boromir being an excellent older sibling, and Éowyn being a wonderful friend as well.

(link in notes)

#lotr #faramir&boromir #faramir #boromir #aragorn #éowyn #fanfic

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🐾💛 here’s the link 💛🐾

Here’s a short follow-up to my first Aragorn/Boromir puppy play fic— there’s nothing else to really say here, it’s shameless smut that turns mushy and romantic at the end. That always seems to happen with these two, though (lol)

(link in notes)

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Here’s a short follow-up to my first Aragorn/Boromir puppy play fic— there’s nothing else to really say here, it’s shameless smut that turns mushy and romantic at the end. That always seems to happen with these two, though (lol)

(link in notes)

#lotr #aragorn/boromir #aragorn #boromir #fanfic

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🪻🐎 here is the link 🐎🪻

reposting this because I originally linked it in a reblog chain on @borom1r + I’m very happy with it:

a little over 5k words of wedding & sword exchange fluff with Éomer and Faramir, because I love iron-age Norse culture and the parallels that can be drawn between it & Rohan 💚

(link in notes)

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reposting this because I originally linked it in a reblog chain on @borom1r + I’m very happy with it:

a little over 5k words of wedding & sword exchange fluff with Éomer and Faramir, because I love iron-age Norse culture and the parallels that can be drawn between it & Rohan 💚

(link in notes)

#lotr #faramir/éomer #faramir #éomer #fluff #wedding fic #is tumblr still hiding posts w/ links in them from tags? this site is such a nightmare I can never keep up with its bullshit. anyways #Read My Fic Boy. #im still getting scholarly essays emailed to me bc of the academic writing archive I signed up for to research this fic lmao #appreciate the effort!! #pls 👉🏻👈🏻🥲

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⚔️🐎 here’s the link 🐎⚔️

Just tidied up 4K words of Boromir/Théodred fluff and smut.. been meaning to expand on that hair-bleaching scene from the Aran and Asmund retelling I posted + finally got around to it

It’s also very transgender, since that’s my not-so-secret agenda for all my fics (mwah ha ha)

(link in notes 💛💚)

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Just tidied up 4K words of Boromir/Théodred fluff and smut.. been meaning to expand on that hair-bleaching scene from the Aran and Asmund retelling I posted + finally got around to it

It’s also very transgender, since that’s my not-so-secret agenda for all my fics (mwah ha ha)

(link in notes 💛💚)

#lotr #boromir #théodred #boromir/théodred

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an unfinished Aragorn/Boromir fic. muse fizzled out and I have other writing projects to worry about, but I’m happy enough with it that I’ll post it as-is.

light D/s + rope bondage, Aragorn taking care of Boromir

It is not the first time they have found themselves in this situation.

The first time had been a welcome surprise; Aragorn experimentally pushed boundaries and was delighted when Boromir met him, albeit with some defiance. These moments began as a temporary balm for frayed nerves and dark thoughts, grounding Boromir in the moment as Aragorn play-acted King.

Aragorn had worried, but in the end it was enough. Boromir frightened Frodo, but did not harm him.

He was injured, but he survived.

Aragorn knew he wasn’t ready to hear such things at the time, but he was proud of Boromir.

Legolas and Gimli went ahead to pursue Merry and Pippin; Aragorn remained with Boromir, moving slowly but steadily after them. Aragorn will sing his thanks eternally that Boromir did not worsen his injuries as they travelled.

In the end, Frodo triumphed, and now they were here.

In Minas Tirith, in the king’s chambers. Aragorn prepares everything carefully. He builds a fire, humming to himself as the room warms. He positions his chair before the fireplace, then neatly folds a blanket and places it beside the chair. It is as he finishes changing from his royal garb into a more simple tunic and soft velvet gilet that the door bursts open. Aragorn huffs out a soft laugh; he can hear Boromir’s rancor fade as soon as he takes in the scene before him, muttered curses dying on his steward’s lips.

Aragorn turns, smiling gently and extending a hand towards Boromir. “It has been some time and you are overburdened, uiveleth.”

“…Aye.” Boromir takes Aragorn’s hand, a shiver running through him.

“Will you ready yourself for me?”

“I will.” Boromir nods. Aragorn lifts his hand, pressing a kiss to Boromir’s knuckles before moving to lock the door to his chambers. They have few hard rules for times such as these, and Boromir’s own preparations will dictate the tone. He is unsurprised to find Boromir has left his trousers on; his steward often feels pleasure is a reward he is undeserving of.

Boromir kneels on the prepared blanket, cushioned against the hard floor. Aragorn takes a moment to study him, drinking in the half-bare form of his lover and most trusted aide as he considers what Boromir most needs. He is struck with love for this jewel of a man, testing the waters by lightly cupping Boromir’s cheek. Boromir sags into the gentle touch and Aragorn’s course is decided.

He steps away only long enough to grab a length of elven rope, kneeling before Boromir to work. Deft fingers begin to build a harness— raph cirion, starting with two loops about the wrists before drawing the arms against the chest and wrapping around the torso. Aragorn is well familiar with the harness, the sensation not unlike a tight hug. By the time he’s finished, Boromir’s eyes have closed, expression utterly unguarded.

Aragorn presses a gentle kiss to Boromir’s brow before he stands, sitting down in the chair beside his steward and gently guiding Boromir’s cheek to rest against his leg. Boromir exhales, nuzzling against Aragorn’s knee as his king begins to card his fingers through Boromir’s hair. With his free hand, Aragorn lifts the book he’d left resting on the arm of the wooden chair and begins to read.

Of course, he doesn’t expect to get particularly far in his book. He gently scratches the base of Boromir’s skull, watching with a slight smile as Boromir melts into the steady touch. It gladdens him, that he’s able to offer Boromir such respite.

“You have done so well for me.” Aragorn praises, smile widening as Boromir lets out a pleased hum. It had taken much work before Boromir would readily accept such praise from his king. “I raw ‘lórin nín. How lucky I am to have you by my side.”

“…Yours.” Boromir’s voice is a low rumble; the pad of Aragorn’s thumb affectionately strokes the base of Boromir’s jaw.

“Aye, mine. I’d like you closer, I think.” Aragorn says with a hum. He stills Boromir’s restless shifting with a light tug of his hair, a gentle correction. “I will take care of you tonight, gûr nín.”

There is a subtle clench of Boromir’s jaw, but it eases the moment his king’s fingers brush over the curve of his cheekbone. It still was not easy for Boromir to accept his king’s care, though he had become less stubborn over time. Aragorn does not mind overmuch; Boromir’s stubbornness was part of the reason he’d fallen for the man.

He sets his book aside and rises, holding Boromir’s elbow and helping him to his feet. Boromir sways slightly, unsteady, as Aragorn moves the blanket in front of his chair. Once he sits back down, Boromir sinks to his knees between Aragorn’s legs and immediately presses his cheek to Aragorn’s inner thigh with a blissful sigh. Eyes closed, he does not see Aragorn’s grin, but he can hear it in his king’s voice.

“Much better, now I can see your beautiful face.”

Boromir snorts, cracking an eye open to fix Aragorn with a disbelieving look as long fingers resume smoothing through his hair. Aragorn affectionately brushes his foot against Boromir’s calf as he smiles. The adoration in his eyes leaves Boromir warm, flushed down to his chest as he noses against Aragorn’s thigh. He’d never been able to stand that look for long, brilliant as the sun and all for him.

“You are lovely. Eventually you’ll believe me when I tell you.” Aragorn chuckles, cupping Boromir’s cheek for a moment. “Mîr gelair en edain. I vîr nín, uiveleth. Ci dhail athan ilegol.” [Shining jewel of men. My jewel, eternal-love. You are more lovely than all else.]

“Yours.” Boromir repeats, half-kissing the cloth of Aragorn’s trousers. Aragorn tucks a lock of his hair back, tracing the shell of Boromir’s ear.

“Forever and always.” Aragorn nods, voice soft and full of love. Such adoration, such grace, pouring forth from Aragorn’s heart— and for him. When he is aware of himself, Boromir oft wonders how he could possibly deserve it; as he is now, he can do little but bask in it, his king’s adoration gentling his restless mind. Aragorn knew from the first, he lives to serve. Boromir had never expected to be served in turn, always assuming he was destined to a life beyond himself, his own pleasure an afterthought.

His very being, an afterthought. Body, mind, and soul to be given in service of something greater.

Aragorn was a caring lord, however, and could read Boromir like an open book. At times, it was still uncanny. Boromir can only feel gratitude for it, now, as Aragorn bends forward and draws him up to capture his lips in a kiss.

Lips trail from the corner of his mouth to his jaw, his throat— Aragorn nips at his collarbone before sinking his teeth into the flesh of Boromir’s broad shoulder. Boromir could not stop the moan that escapes him if he tried, a shiver coursing through him as Aragorn lays his claim. Another bite follows and Boromir gasps, body going lax.

“Perhaps this will help remind you exactly how important you are to me. You are indispensable, my steward. You need not work yourself to the bone.” Aragorn’s fingers trace the pale skin between the ropes crossing his back and Boromir trembles.

“…My king.” Boromir starts, in that low tone that tells Aragorn he is struggling not to argue. Aragorn smiles softly, drawing Boromir fully into his lap, his arms wrapped snugly around his bound steward to support him. He nuzzles his cheek against Boromir’s, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“Would you prefer I punish you for your stubbornness?”

Boromir lets out a soft, pleased hum at the scratch of Aragorn’s beard. He doesn’t reply; Aragorn laces his fingers through Boromir’s hair and tugs his head back, kissing the delicate stretch of his throat.

“Boromir.” he warns, “I will not punish you undeservedly.”

“Strider…” Boromir bares his teeth in a sneer, aiming to push buttons.

“Hush.” Aragorn releases his grip on Boromir’s hair, soothingly carding through the hair at the nape of Boromir’s neck, scratching gently. “I suspect my kindness is punishment enough.”

Boromir whines, and Aragorn knows he is right. Some small yet vocal part of Boromir’s mind still insists that Aragorn is degrading himself. That he is not worthy enough to be loved by the king. He hefts Boromir up with a grunt, carrying him the few short steps to their bed before laying him down. He watches as Boromir stretches out his legs with an instinctive hum. Boromir is truly captivating, the fine ropes binding his arms to his chest serving to highlight the fluid shift of his muscles. After a silent moment, Aragorn slides a hand over Boromir’s clothed thigh, squeezing.

“I will not punish you undeservedly, simply because you think you will dirty me.” Aragorn catches the lace on Boromir’s trousers with his teeth, tugging them open. Boromir whines beneath him, squirming slightly. “That is the truth of it, isn’t it? Some part of you is still convinced you are not worthy.”

He gently pushes off Boromir’s trousers, pressing a kiss to his stomach just beside the pretty curve of Boromir’s half-hard cock. “I will not touch you here unless you ask me to. Understand?”

Boromir nods, panting softly through his nose. He watches as Aragorn moves to retrieve more of the silken elvish rope; with deft fingers, Aragorn begins to bind Boromir’s calf to his thigh. Another favorite tie, loeth e-deleg; the carefully-wound rope frames Boromir’s legs beautifully. Aragorn’s hands stroke pale skin as he carefully checks his knots and adjusts the tension. Boromir shudders, exhaling through his nose as he slowly goes lax. Aragorn can’t help but smirk, pressing a kiss to Boromir’s knee— it amazes him sometimes, just how much tension Boromir could carry, how easily he wound himself up.

Once both legs are bound, Boromir’s breathing has slowed and his cock grown fully erect, curved beautifully and resting against his belly. Much as he longs to, Aragorn does not touch. He stands where Boromir can see him, undressing and laying his clothes neatly aside.

“Beautiful…” Boromir breathes, once Aragorn stands bare before him, squirming slightly against the ropes restraining him. Aragorn flashes him a warm smile, ducking his head

“You flatter me, uiveleth. You are the most gorgeous of all to my eyes.” he says, joining Boromir on the bed. Bound as he is, Boromir can do little but comply with Aragorn’s maneuvering. He draws his steward close, until they are skin to skin, Boromir straddling Aragorn’s thigh, his cheek on Aragorn’s shoulder.

Aragorn’s fingers trace the gaps between the ropes, brushing teasingly over pale skin. “I will only touch you if you ask. You may rut against me to find your pleasure, if you are too stubborn to use your words. Either way, you must dirty me— I welcome it.”

Boromir sets his jaw, stubborn, nose buried against Aragorn’s throat. Aragorn chuckles, pressing a kiss to soft, blond hair.

“…Even if you are correct in your assumption that I am degrading myself, is it so implausible that I would choose to do so? Can you truly see no world where I would willingly bring myself to your level, simply to love you? Do you know what you do to me?” deft fingers tease the cleft of Boromir’s ass and Boromir instinctively presses into the touch, cock dragging against Aragorn’s hip. He lets out a shuddering breath, staying stubbornly silent.

—

Loeth e-deleg (spiral of the leg)

Raph cirion (fisherman’s harness)

#lotr #aragorn/boromir

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Started writing sth and then realized that not only do I not particularly enjoy the tone of it but I also would need to give such a dense disclaimer in the notes after that I wouldn’t even want to post it to begin with.

Idk if I’ll post what I have here or not just bc it really doesn’t sit with me the right way anymore. That’s just how ideas work sometimes though. shrugs

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A fragment of a Stardew Valley fic I don’t plan on finishing at this point (we’ll see if that changes when I finally get around to playing the update lol) — Harvey/Elliott/Male PC, beach day fluff

Geri was there the day Harvey came out to Elliott. Purely for moral support, after some long talks about the logistics of it all— that is, he and Harvey and Shane all asking Elliott out eventually. Besides, ever since that evening at the lake, Geri’s been itching to invite Harvey to come swim with them.

It’d become something of an unofficial routine; at least once a month, he and Elliott went swimming together. It was a way to celebrate themselves, their bodies. The long and extremely difficult road they’d both walked to get to a place where they felt confident lounging on the shore or splashing around in the water. Sometimes at the lake, sometimes at the sea— even once in the river, much to Elliott’s chagrin. Geri wants, so badly, to share that joy with Harvey. The first step was for him to come out to Elliott.

It went much smoother than Harvey expected, having worked himself up to an anxious mess. Understandably, of course; Geri smiles a little at the pure relief that sinks in as Elliott assures Harvey that this changes nothing— that he’s still beyond grateful to have Harvey in his life, of course they’re still friends. Of course.

Harvey’d seen the testosterone prescription on Elliott’s charts but before Geri no one else knew, and he’d just never found the nerve to really speak to Elliott. That awful little seed of doubt, the what-if, worst-case-scenario thoughts, slowly took root and he resigned himself to familiar loneliness. Until, of course, a strange farmer moved into the valley and decided to shake things up. Geri can’t help but grin as Harvey and Elliott’s conversation turns to him.

“What can I say? I like spending time with you both.” Geri playfully nudges Harvey with his elbow.

“I like it too.” Harvey fixes Geri with a fond look. “It’s hard to imagine Pelican Town without you around to wreak havoc.”

“Hey!” Geri laughs, “I don’t cause that much chaos!”

“Oh, don’t you?” Elliott smirks, shaking his head a little at Geri’s fumbling, laughter-filled protests. Waving him off, Geri collects himself before fixing Elliott with a bright grin.

“Whatever, whatever— I’m a harbinger of chaos, sure. I was just thinking… beach day?” Geri shares a meaningful look with Elliott. Elliott’s eyes light up as he nods.

“Absolutely. Harvey, Geri and I have developed a monthly tradition: we spend a day at the beach together and enjoy.. life?” Elliott glances at Geri for confirmation.

Geri nods happily. “Life, being trans, the beauty of nature— all that fun stuff.”

“Exactly.” Elliott chuckles, “Would you like to join us this month?”

#harvey/elliott/male pc #sdv #fic fragment #unfinished

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I should also be using this blog for its intended purpose: posting fragmentary writing

I need to retheme this fucking blog and make a pinned post or sth and also dump all my LotR fics bc I think I’ve officially written more of them than I’ve written SAW fics 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 lol

#I KEEP NOT DOING THAAAAAAAAT

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⚔️🌕 Strider | 20s | he/it/wer 🌕⚔️

this is my writing blog, for dumping unfinished fic fragments/anything unpolished I don’t want on my AO3/links to my actual polished fics

my AO3 is fakebodies

I don’t follow back on this blog. my main is @ulfhednn and my fandom sideblog is @borom1r, I’ll be more likely to follow back on either of those ✌🏻

(TW for untagged horror content/fake gore on main)

you might see me talk about a throwaway AO3 account— you can ask about it off anon but there’s no guarantees I’ll provide the link

current fandoms:

Lord of the Rings (movies + books; active)

SHIPS: Aragorn/Boromir, Éomer/Faramir, Boromir/Théodred

Stardew Valley (semi-active)

SHIPS: male player/Shane/Harvey/Elliott

SAW (non-active)

SHIPS: Adam/Lawrence

#pinned post

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I need to retheme this fucking blog and make a pinned post or sth and also dump all my LotR fics bc I think I’ve officially written more of them than I’ve written SAW fics 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 lol

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you know if I wanted to be Especially deranged I could write a fic inspired by Aran and Asmund…… so devoted you share all earthly belongings, your home, your kingship, and vow to spend three days in the grave of the other should they die first…. only for this man you so love to become a draugr after death

#lotr #my fic #boromir/théodred

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ugh I have the text game AND an unfinished Aragorn/Boromir fic sitting in my drafts but doing the costuming document and talking about Faramir and Éowyn’s wedding clothes + sitting there like “man I’m surprised Éowyn doesn’t have her own sword on, its a romanticized invention of the sagas but it would’ve been cool to have them do a sword exchange” has made me wanna write Another Faramir/Éomer fic. because I think they should get to do a sword exchange

#lotr #faramir/éomer #my fic