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elryuse · 9 months

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DROWNING IN LUST

JOY X MALE READER

Tags : Blowjob, Throatfuck, Throatpie, Swimming pool, Lifeguard, Hardcore

You were currently enjoying your vacation here in Jeju. Being a hardworking college student definitely gives you some stress... Thankfully your friends are good enough to ask you out on a vacation for a week in Jeju.

At first you didn't really agree with them, mostly because you don't really have a lot of money in your bank account... Not to mention the pressure from all of the exams and tests that are coming closer. But.. Your friends didn't give up... And they definitely should be thanked, because if you never went out... You're probably gonna miss the greatest vacation in your whol life.

After arriving at Jeju, you and your friends immediately went to the hotel room before unpacking all of your bags and luggage. Your friends just couldn't wait to eat some of the local delicacies here in Jeju.. So without waiting.. You all immediately leave the hotel and search for a restaurant.

After looking around many places on Google Maps, You all finally picked one place. It was a traditional restaurant that serves 제주흑돼지 ( Jeju Pork ) and 해물탕 ( Spicy Seafood Hotpot ). Not to mention pairing those beautiful dishes with a few bottles of Soju. Definitely hit all of the good spots in your body.

After a few more bottles... All of you are basically tipsy and started chattering weird languages and words. Thankfully you all made it back to the hotel room. After taking a nice nap on the huge bed, it's easily one of the greatest naps you've ever felt in your life.

The next day arrived. You were currently having a bad hangover... But you could still do some basic things. After taking a cold shower and getting yourself done. You immediately went with the boys to the buffet. The food is not the greatest but it definitely filled your empty stomach.

After eating a ton of food starting from Savory dishes like American Food, Asian Food, Japanese food followed by some cakes, jelly and other desserts. You're basically done for the morning. After going back to your room... You immediately went back into the comfy bed, and immediately fell asleep.

"Oi... Oi... Y/n... Wake up... We're going to check the swimming pool... Are you in"?

"F-fuck... *yawn* What time is it...".

"It's 12pm bro... Come on... You're missing out on all of the fun".

"Okay okay... Hold on".

"Aight... Let's go guys".

In the end, you followed what your friends wanted. That is swimming in the hotel's pool. For a 3 Star hotel you were definitely expecting something way way more worse. But to your surprise... It is actually pretty decent. Some might say pretty good for the price.

Not to mention you could definitely see some beautiful girls swimming there. Heck even the lifeguards look sexy as hell. Shit... This is not good... I don't want to get a boner right now.. That will be bad... Fuck.

Shit where is everyone anyway.. Aghh.. Fuck... At this point... It's just me that's gonna swim.. Aghhh that motherfuckinh morons.....

"Are you lost kid"?

"O-oh... N-no... It's just that I'm supposed to be here with my friends.. But... I think they trolled me on this one".

"Awww that's so mean... ".

"It's okay... It always happens to me... *sigh* Do you know a place to get some drinks maybe".

"Ohhh boy you sure I do... You know what... Since all of your friends did such a mean thing to you.. How about I give you something cool"?

"R-really... You'll do that for me"?

"Why not... Let's go come with me".

"O-okay".

You don't really know if this is a good idea or not. But there's no denying that this woman is pretty as fuck. Her face and smile are so beautiful yet so mysterious. It made you really curious.. So you trusted her at least for now.

But for a surprise... You wouldn't ever think of being surprised in a changing room... Especially in the woman's restroom. But the more she took you deeper and deeper inside the restroom... You immediately know that shits about to go down.

After finding an empty small room... She immediately pinned you down... And started making out with your tongue.. Her warm and slippery tounge started touching your lips.. Before giving your mouth a warm welcome.

"Heheh.... I'm so fucking horny right now... Do you know how long I've waited for a nice looking man such as you to come"?

"R-really... You think I'm nice looking"??

"Mhmmm of course honey... You're my style... And I can't wait to finally fuck this body of yours hehe".

"Hmm... Ahhhh".

"Hehe don't worry... I'm good at this".

And just like that She started undressing her swimsuit, revealing her petite body. Her small waist and perky breast is definitely a worthy sight to see. She started smiling and giggling before doinh the same thing by undressing your swim trousers.

"Omo... What a big cock....".

"T-thankss".

She started gripping your cock, before pumping it up and down.... Her smooth hands easily glides through your stiff rod. The pressure of her stimulating grip started to make your cock harder and harder. To the point that you wanted to explode.

"Now now... Don't cum just yet... ".

"I-'mm trying my best.. ".

"Good boy".

After she released her grip from your cock. She immediately kneels down. She then put your cock in the entrance of her lips and started lickinh your cock. At first it was a subtle lick and kissing on your cock. But that soon turned the opposite direction.

She started sucking your cock. The way her tounge wrapped around your cock was truly magnificent. Not to mention her tight mouth sucking your cock up and down was very stimulating.

"S-shit... Your mouth is so tight Noona".

" *Gulp* *Gulp* Mmhmmm.... So big... ".

"If you keep this up... I might cum already... ".

"Mmhmm *Gulp* not yet... I want you to fuck my fucking throat... I want you to make it sore.... ".

"Fuckk.... ".

" *moan* Mhmmm.... *gulp*.

After hearing that... You immediately wrapped your hands around her neck and started thrusting deeper inside her throat.. At this point... Your cock has reached the deepest part of her mouth... Even though she started choking.. You didn't give a fuck... And started fuckinh her throat properly.

" *gulp* *gulp* Mhmm.. Mmm.. *pat your thighs*.. Mhmm".

"Shhhhh.... Be a good girl Noona... I'll fuck your throat just like what you wanted".

" *gulp* *gulp*... Mhmm... Mmm".

"Fuck... Fuck... I'm gonna cum.. Aghh I'm gonna cum deep inside your throat Noona... Take it all... Aghhh".

"MHMMMMMM..... *moan* ".

And just like that... You released all the cum that you have stored inside your balls. Releasing a ribbon of cum... At this point all she could do was drink and swallow all of your hot and warm cum. After you make sure that she's done swallowing all of that cum... You slowly release your cock ftom her mouth.

"Fuck... That was so Good Noona".

" *cough* *cough* G-glad... You liked it... ".

"I've never done something like that... It was amazing".

"Hehe... H-here... Take my phone number... I think I would want to fuck you again in the future... ".

"R-really".

"Mhmm... Of course baby... ".

In the end, you went back to your room. Before getting surprised by all of your friends who were actually planning to give you a birthday suprise. But you don't really give a damn. cause all you know.. You already received a better surprise. A surprise that will never be forgotten.

~ THE END ~

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sulieykte · 1 year

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𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 // 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧˚ · . 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒗

‣ Pairing: Adult!Neteyam (20) x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (19) ‣ Warnings: mentions of weapons and blood. emotional damage and a slightly nicer Neteyam ‣ Word Count: 2.9k ‣ A/N: I had fun with this one. I finally gave some side characters time to shine and I hope you enjoy getting to see some other important players. I've had a clear out of the taglist, I've gotten rid of any empty blogs and dead links so I apologise if you're no longer tagged but it needed to be done. Good news is, this leaves more room for anyone else who wants to be tagged, so just shoot me a message or reply to this if you want to be tagged in the next part just remember that I will not be tagging ageless blogs. English is in bold italics all other dialogue is in Na'vi. ‣ Na'vi word bank: tìyawn - love, taronyu - hunter, kllkä - descend, uniltaron - dream hunt, kuru - neurul queue, tsaheylu - neural connection, sa'nu - mum, maktoyu - rider, mawey - calm

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“Why are you acting so weird?”

“I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes you are.”

“I’m n- Lo’ak. What are you talking about?” Your hand drops from his face, halting your decoration of his face to match the markings he had adorned your face with. You fix him with a questioning gaze, urging him to go on, even though you already knew what he meant.

“Look, you’ve been acting strange ever since-“His eyes dart across the tent, ears flattening against his head as he looks to Spider for support and receives only a shaken head in response. “Fine, you’ve been weird ever since you and Neteyam got stuck in that cave. And it’s not just me that thinks so, Kiri agrees. Dad even said you seemed upset when they got you out. I just thought something might have happened in there?"

You sigh and turn to look at Spider, who’s trying desperately to look uninterested in the conversation as he prepares the paint for his own blue markings. It was good he was there; you had been prepared for this conversation, felt the Sully’s concerned eyes on you every time you declined a dinner invite or rushed off after clan meetings. And as much as you had believed it would be best to keep it from Lo’ak, sharing what his brother had told you about Ralu would hopefully stem any further questions about your attitude.

“Lo’ak, before we got trapped, Neteyam told me that Ralu had been discussing our activities with him and other warriors in the clan.” Your tail curls around your middle, the topic still stings, as much as it had been lapped twice over by the hurt caused by your dalliance with Neteyam. “He didn’t have anything kind to say about me it seems. Right Spider?” You add, looking to the human for back up.

“Yeah bro, I was there. The guys a dick.” Spider confirms, his eyes flashing with the same annoyance that he had displayed the next day when he’d tried to insist on confronting the hunter and you’d had to talk him down and make him promise not to share any of it with Lo’ak. The rage in Lo’ak’s eyes told you that it had been the right call.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“No, you’re not.” You laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop his attempt to stand. After all, you’d be left without a flying partner for the days raid if Lo’ak were to follow through with his threats. You were sure if you approached Jake to ask to be paired up with another warrior, he would oblige, but you could not bring yourself to explain to the man who had been like a father to you why you didn’t want to work with Ralu. “Bro, it’s fine. You know I don’t need you to fight for me, I can fight my own battles. And I am okay now.”

Lo’ak seemed to accept that, with a few grumbled expletives directed towards the taronyu. You breathed a sigh of relief as you dipped your fingers back into the paint, sweeping a stripe along Lo’ak’s cheekbone, careful to steady your shaking hands.

The wind whipped against your cheeks as you weaved through the mountains, eyes finding your target. The barrelling metal vehicle Jake had called a ‘train’ wasflanked by two gunships. You hear Jake call out for the ground team to go ahead and you send a parting salute to your left, to Lo’ak, and follow closely behind Neytiri.

The first explosion is devastating. It throws the train from the tracks, flipping it over as its path is encompassed with flames. It’s almost beautiful, to see the Sky People’s creations alight as forest had been when they razed the ground to build their city of metal. The airships soon follow, dispatched by Jake and Neytiri, meeting the ground with more flames and destruction. You raise your arms, meeting Neytiri’s victory cries with your own.

“Kllkä Anì.” You guide your Ikran through your bond and descend to the ground, Ralu settling down beside you. Sliding from your mount, you sever the bond and give her a gentle pat to the flank. ‘Let’s go. Two minutes, let’s go.’ Jake’s voice rang through your ear, urging you forward. You tilt your head to Ralu to follow along.

No sooner than you reach Norm is a case of human weaponry thrust into your arms. “Go, get out of here kid.” Norm had been about as happy as Jake was to let you partake in the raids. It was just as common for you to burst into Hells Gate with Spider as a child as it was for you to invade the Sully’s home and Norm had become a constant in your life. But there had been no grounds to deny you, the same argument had been made by Lo’ak and Neteyam. You had all passed your uniltaron and been accepted as one of the people and you would fight for your people.

You reach Anì with your spoils and get to work tying them to her saddle, preparing to follow Norm’s orders and Jake’s earlier commands to grab what you can and “Haul ass out of there.”

“Lo’ak!” and the cheers that followed were unmistakable. You turn, delaying your departure to locate the voices of the two brothers, unsurprised at the sight you found. Lo’ak stood brandishing a gun and even out of earshot, you could tell Neteyam was scolding him by the tension in his shoulders and the deep set scowl on his face. Rolling your eyes, you finish tying off the leather straps that secure the case.

You have Anì’s kuru in hand, ready to make Tsaheylu when you hear Jake’s voice booming in your ear. “Gunships inbound, fall back!” Pulling yourself up onto her back, you hear Ralu’s voice, an urgent call of your name and a demand to hurry. But your attention is drawn by the projectiles you see the ship release and the direction they take. How they land where you had seen the Sully brothers stood just moments before.

As smoke and flame fills your vision, your mind cannot will your body to leave. They weren’t there. They heard their fathers voice the same as you had, they had fled. You tell yourself that as you slide down from your Ikran and run towards destruction.

“Lo’ak!” Your cries for your friend go unanswered, your throat tightening as you repeat the calls and they continue to go unanswered.

Until you recognise one of the bodies on the ground.

“No. No. No. No.” His body is face down, unmoving and your heart skips several beats before you scramble over the rock separating you. “’Teyam?” You roll him over, hands reaching to grasp his face. The tension in your throat releases when his eyes blink open and he lets out a groan of pain.

“Y/n?”

His eyes meet yours and you realize how close your faces are as you hover over his body. You don’t move, finding it hard to tell your body to let go when moments before you’d believed he was gone. Heart pounding against your chest you squeeze your eyes shut, a shaken breath in turning into a steady exhale. You didn’t have time for this. The gunship was sure to not be the only one and you had to figure out how you would get you and Neteyam to your ikran and you couldn’t even think of Lo’ak. You prayed he’d gotten himself to safety.

“Neteyam!”

“Jake! We’re here. I have him!” You pull away from Neteyam, standing to direct Jake to your location. Jake clambers over the metal debris, hands finding your shoulders as he observes you for any injuries. “I’m fine, but Lo’ak I couldn’t-“

“He’s safe. Get out of here.”

Your shoulders sag as he releases you from his hold, moving towards his eldest son. Lo’ak was safe. Neteyam was safe, or at least he would be once his father got him out of there. Jake barks another command to leave at you and you purse your lips ready to call for Anì, who settles beside you before you can even release a sound. She had been waiting for you, your loyal sister. You make Tsaheylu and feel her worry through the bond, soon soothed by the connection and the reassurance that you are safe.

Climbing onto her back, you spare one last glance at the Sullys, seeing Jake lift Neteyam over his shoulder before you take to the sky. Your chest heaves and the dam breaks, allowing the tears loose to stream down your face. “Stop.” You tell yourself, swiping a hand across your cheek, hand coming away damp with paint and tears.

Your head is pounding as you slump back to you Marui, unsure if it was the explosions or Jake’s lecture that had done more damage. You knew better than to argue when placed in a line up with the Sully boys as Jake demanded to know why the three of you were anywhere near the train car when the missile hit, when he’d given clear orders to be in and out of there as soon as you’d grabbed supplies. You knew better than to point out that you hadn’t been anywhere near the explosion.

You’d found your escape when Jake noticed the scrapes you’d acquired in your search for his sons and sent you to the Tsahìk to get them looked at. You had debated arguing then, your injuries were insignificant compared to Neteyam’s who had been forced to stay behind. His father was still not finished expressing his disappointment in him. But you didn’t. With the adrenaline of war dying off, you couldn’t look at him without recalling the last moments you’d spent together before today and decided that you weren’t upset at the idea of him suffering for a little longer.

“Come here ma ‘ite.” Your mother’s comforting voice greets you and you fall into her welcoming arms.

It was hard on your mother, that you had chosen to follow in your fathers footsteps. You knew this, though she never complained or tried to dissuade you from what you’d declared as your path as a child. Instead, she would greet you on return with open arms, a meal and a bowl of warm water to wash yourself.

She holds you at arm’s length, eyes falling to your legs that were smeared in the healing paste not so gently applied by the Tsahìk. Worry lines that hadn’t existed a only a year ago sullied her skin, before your father returned to Eywa and you committed yourself to this war. If it was even possible, it made you hate the Sky People even more.

“Sa’nu, I am well. It’s just a few scratches, they won’t even scar.” Your reassurances do little to dim the concern in her eyes. “You should go assist the Tsahìk, there’s many wounded.”

She nods, your sweet mother, and allows you to remove yourself from her grasp. The last thing you want is to be coddled right now, as much as the warmth of her arms is inviting, you want nothing more than to end this day and find peace in slumber. So she leaves you, departing with a kiss pressed to your forehead and a strained smile.

The water she set aside for you smelled sweet and soothed your sore eyes as you scooped a handful to rub the paint from your face in a haste to remove it. It was the symbol of a warrior and you felt more like a scared little girl. Pathetic. You had never cried after a battle, not even as you watched clan member after clan member be laid to rest. It was something every warrior knew possible and accepted when going to war. So why had you cried until you had no more tears left to give?

The water has turned a murky orange by the time you are happy that your skin is free from any undeserved adornments.

“Y/N?”

The voice calls from outside the Marui and your heart skips a beat. Neteyam was the last visitor you expected to receive. For a moment you consider pretending you are not home, but the candlelight was a dead giveaway. You didn’t know if you had it in you to take whatever he had to throw at you tonight, a lecture you were sure, an echo of his fathers insistence that you should not have disobeyed orders. Not when today had been the first time he’d spared you a glance since the night by the lab and he’d had little choice in the matter with your face inches away from his own.

“What do you want Neteyam?”

His face appears around the flap of the tent, brows raised in question which you answered with a nod. He enters your home, his toned form covered in the same paste that Mo’at had applied to your own wounds. Good, that shit stung.

You stare for far too long and he notices, a smile spreading across his face that has you turning to grab for a cloth to dry your face for an excuse to hide your face and the heat rushing to your cheeks. He still hasn’t spoken when you uncover your face, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“Why are you here?” You ask, and you hate how desperate you sound but you can’t do this with him again. Whatever fight you had left to give to this war between you and him, he had taken from you at the lab.

“I came to check if you were okay.”

“Are you being serious?” The laugh that you let out is bitter and catches in your throat and his ears drop at the sound.

“Yes, you were hurt.” He gestured to your legs before his eyes meet yours. You know they must be red and bloodshot, the water had done little to stem the irritation. “And you seem upset Tìyawn.”

The word falls from his tongue like it’s nothing, but to you it’s like a maktoyu to their ikran.

“I seem upset? Did you notice that yourself, Neteyam? Or did someone have to point it out to you? I find it hard to believe that you’d have any chance of noticing when you haven’t even looked my way, or spoken a word to me since you abandoned me. After something you started. And you claim to be a better man than Ralu, but he didn’t abandon me as soon as he was finished with me.” You curse yourself for the tears that prick at the corner of your eyes, how did you even have anything left? “Eywa, just tell me what I did to make you hate me this much because it must have been truly awful for you to want to cause me this much pain.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“You’ve hated me since we were children, you have made that very clear.”

He crosses the tent, the impulse to step back quelled by your will to stand your ground. He does nothing more than hold onto your arms, his touch gentle but firm.

“Do you know what my dad said to me back there?” His jaw clenches, fingers tightening around your arms for a moment before they relax, and his hands gently run up and down your arms as if wiping away his grip. “I’m the older brother. It’s my responsibility to take care of my siblings and I am fine with that. It’s my duty. But you… You became my responsibility too, and you didn’t make it easy. You and Lo’ak dragging each other into so much trouble. I think I resented you for that for a long time.”

“We were just kids Neteyam.” You shake your head, his perception of your childhood far different from your own. You’d always looked up to him, the mighty fisherman Neteyam who seemed to excel at everything he did. Your first years spent clung to him until his dismissal of you dulled your admiration for the boy. “And I’m not your responsibility anymore.”

“No, you’re not.”

“So why are you here?”

“To apologise.” His hands drop from your arms, a hand intertwining with yours, fingers idly playing with your own. It sends a shiver down your spine and you pull your hand back, not allowing yourself to get pulled back in.

“Did your mother send you again?” He laughs at that, fangs poking at his bottom lip as he shakes his head.

“I deserve that.” He steps closer, bringing a hand up to your face to cup your cheek. You have no choice but to look him in the eyes, his face only inches from yours of his doing this time. “I am sorry. What I did at the lab, it was wrong. I should not have left you like that.”

Your breath hitches and there’s nothing more you can do to stop the tears that fall as a sob that rips through your chest. The emotions of the past few weeks, of everything he’d put you through, the bruises, the abandonment, his body lain lifeless as you found it all coming tearing from your body as he pulls you into his chest.

“Mawey Tìyawn. Mawey.”

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cherienymphe · 1 year

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Violet Eyes & Violent Delights (Aegon II Targaryen x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, manipulation, loss of virginity, mentions of incest (Helaena x Aemond), power imbalance, mentions of consensual fidelity

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: You picked a flower, and Aegon picked you for himself.

You always belonged to Prince Aegon.

Even when you didn’t know it.

You were never supposed to get distracted from your duties nor stray too far from the other serving girls. It was an easy enough rule for your young mind to comprehend, but it was a beautiful day, and the sun shown down on the flowers just right, and you wanted to pick some.

Aegon wanted to pick you for himself.

You hadn’t known that was possible then. For someone to just pluck another person all for themselves like you often plucked flowers. The queen had been beside herself, a look upon her pretty face that you had not been able to decipher until years later. She had rubbed her hand over her chest, pink lips pursed as she flicked her eyes between you and her eldest son, the latter with a tight grip around your wrist as he awaited her answer.

“Well…your sister will require a lady-in-waiting one day. I suppose that we can get her started early-.”

“Helaena?” Aegon had scoffed, a deep frown on his face. “I want her for me, mother.”

Her face had fallen, taut now.

“You don’t like it when I enjoy the company of my nephews, Aemond is a twat, and Helaena is…stupid-.”

“Aegon,” she snapped, eyeing you once more.

Even if you felt it was your place to speak, you had not known what to say then. One moment, you were picking flowers, and the next you were being pulled through the corridors by prince Aegon himself.

“You’re pretty,” he had told you. “…and my mother says that I can have anything my heart desires.”

You had been rendered speechless to be in such proximity to the royal family, but the more he went back and forth with the queen, the more you thought that the eldest prince just wanted a friend. Your free hand landed on the arm that held yours, and the action had caused the prince to pause in his quarrel with the queen, turning to look at you.

His own silence had triggered his mother’s, and you could feel her eyes on you. It was the strangest situation to find yourself in then, and you had cleared your throat, feeling overwhelmed.

“I will…be grateful for any place her majesty finds for me here.”

The red-headed woman had sighed, looking down at you two with a furrow between her brows. That was your first lesson in just how stubborn and determined Aegon could be, and just how much the queen would spoil him.

“I will bring it up with your father,” she had firmly told him in a quiet voice.

Years later, when you would ask Aegon what the king had said that night, he would tell you that the older man had all but waved it off, declaring that his eldest son should be allowed any friend he wishes. Overnight you had gone from a serving girl to prince Aegon’s…companion.

Getting work in the castle as an orphan had been a feat on it’s own, but to become so close to the family that sat on the iron throne was another entirely.

“I do not feel right in this,” you had said one day, gingerly touching the nicest dress you’d ever had the pleasure of wearing.

“My sister has so many. She could really stand to lose them all,” Aegon had murmured from behind a cup.

You did not agree as Helaena seemed very precious to you. In fact, you did not agree with the prince on a lot of things, but you quickly learned that your opinion hardly mattered in his eyes. In fact, a lot of things about you hardly mattered. It took longer than you would have liked for you to realize that you were not so much the prince’s friend, but instead his trinket, his possession to do with as he pleased.

You belonged to him…and no one else.

“Even if you did have any right to talk to her, she would not want to hear your crazy ramblings,” he’d sneered at his sister one day.

The white-haired girl had shrunk in on herself, timid eyes finding the floor. Aemond had been nearby, quiet and disapproving as he watched with a frown. You had wanted to say something to defend the innocent girl, but without saying as much, Aegon had made your place here pretty clear.

He had made it so that you could have a life of comfort and leisure and fine things…and he could just as easily take it away.

“She was only being friendly,” you had told him later that evening.

The look that Aegon gave you, you would have thought that you were attempting to cut his throat. You had looked away, head falling as he neared you. He did not respond for what felt like a long time, and you wished that you could take it back.

“Do you wish to be hers instead?”

You frantically shook your head.

“No, I only meant-.”

“What need would you have for Helaena?”

You had looked at him then, lips parted, and he frowned at you.

“She did not find you. She did not beg mother to keep you around. I am the one who went to her to get you nice things to wear and a nice bed to sleep in. You are mine…not hers, and if you wish it to be different, then I can just let her give you all those things instead.”

The threat was clear enough for your young mind to comprehend even then. You had swallowed, slowly shaking your head at him, and it took a moment before the prince looked satisfied enough with your answer.

Your dynamic was something you grew to get used to. It was no longer weird for you to follow after Aegon like a lost puppy. Somehow, his heavy footsteps ahead of yours became something like a comfort to you. You no longer second guessed his disapproving stare at one of your dresses, a nasty sneer on his lips as he snapped at one of the maids to find you something better.

You donned what only Aegon approved of, you wore your hair in whatever way he liked, and when you spoke, it was only after a quick glance in his direction. You were well into your adolescence when you realized that you were not Aegon’s friend. You never were.

You were his doll.

He made you up and dressed you up as he pleased to sit prettily at his side. He insisted that you go everywhere with him, and while the king did not mind your presence at dinner, his spirit still jovial even with his failing health, the queen however still eyed you with that look you had yet to place. However, when you felt Aegon’s fingers absentmindedly touching your shoulder that night, like he had every right in the world to, and her face fell like her worst fears had come to pass, you understood then that she was terrified.

It had started small.

Your eyes would wander, and you would find them meeting a gaze that was already waiting for your attention. Aegon’s shoulder would brush yours when dining, his chair as close to yours as humanly possible. Even in the most mundane of settings, you would feel the faint touch of his fingers stroking along your sleeve, careless to all who might see.

Only his drunk lips betrayed his sober thoughts.

“Do you love me?”

You had blinked at him, hovering over his prone form, tucking him in as you often did when he got too much ale into him. His pale blond hair hung in his face, and there was the barest of frowns on his features as he stared at you through tearful and bleary eyes.

Queen Alicent’s fearful expression was ever present in your mind, and you wondered how you never saw it before.

You were not ignorant to the ways of men. You saw the way they behaved when they had too much to drink or even when they were sober and feeling particularly bold. You knew what Aegon had dragged his brother out for one night when the latter was only thirteen years of age. You knew it was the same thing Aegon himself had been eager to seek for himself only a year before.

You felt so cold as you realized what the queen had tried to prevent years and years ago.

Even in this moment, as the prince eagerly awaited your answer, he could not help himself to touch you. His head lolled, and his hair went every which way, and he could hardly keep his eyes open. Yet, his hand still found the strength to toy with your sleeve and trail his fingers over the back of your hand. Aegon did that a lot, and you wondered if he even noticed it now seeing as it was almost second nature for him.

“Of course, I care for you,” you eventually replied, straightening a little. “As I care for everyone in your family who has never been anything but kind and…so very gracious to me.”

Aegon’s hand fell, and he was quiet as he merely stared at you. Your heart pounded, and cautiously, you straightened and backed away.

“You should…rest. You will have a hard enough morning as it is.”

He said nothing more, and you did not look back as you left his chambers.

You could not get to yours fast enough, only a wall away from his own, and you pressed your back to your doors when you closed them. Your nails scraped against the wood, and your heart threatened to leap from your chest. The truth was not only that you did not love Aegon, but that you never would.

Prince Aegon Targaryen, second of his name, was not a good man.

His marriage to his sister had come and gone, and he treated her no better than he did before. He was quick to anger, and slow to forgive, and you bore witness to this more than anyone. Aemond had the reputation for being especially cold and intimidating, but Aegon possessed a cruelty that made your stomach turn. You knew of the time he spent in Flea Bottom, unfortunate enough to be forced to go with him sometimes, and you were not stupid.

The unmistakable white hair and light eyes a child or two possessed was telling.

Aegon was a selfish and demanding prince with a dark heart that desired any and everything it should not. Somehow, over the years, that had come to include you without you even realizing it. His pet. His doll. His poor servant girl that he had saved from the plights of poverty and decay.

His cold violet eyes starred in your nightmares many nights…

…because the truth was that he scared you beyond belief.

The same man that had changed your life in the course of a night was the same one who left you shaking most days. Where you once felt like his shadow, the roles had reversed somehow, and you felt like he was always over your shoulder instead. You felt like it was his breathing that you felt down your neck instead of the cool autumn air. His fingers along your spine instead of the soft fabric of your dress.

His presence was oppressive and paralyzing, and you feared that if you offered to give it all back as if these past years had never happened, he would not even let you go. Aegon may have never touched you in the same manner he did those poor serving girls who often ran shaking and crying from his chambers, but you were well and truly his.

You were right on Aemond’s heels as he smoothly made his way down the steps. His long blond hair swayed against his back with every movement, and you found yourself absentmindedly admiring it. You did that more often than you wanted to admit, and you quickly looked away, reminding yourself how devoted he was to his sister.

The Targaryens and their odd customs would never grow on you, you were sure, but you supposed that if Helaena had to find comfort in one of her brothers, better it be the lesser of two evils.

Sometimes you envied her in that way. You did not know how, but your future seemed so assured to you. Every time you thought about it, all you saw was the eldest Targaryen prince, and somehow someway, you knew that is all it would ever be.

It seemed inevitable, and not just to you, but to all those around you.

Once you had shown up, a drunk Aegon was much more eager to leave the brothel, preferring to hang off of you than his own brother. His breath wreaked of wine, and his hand was tightly curled around your waist. You followed Aemond down the familiar path as you snuck his brother back into the castle, nights like this a regular occurrence.

When he fell back onto his bed, eyes already fluttering closed and lips parting, his fingers were tight on the fabric of your dress. It took a lot of strength to pry them away, and even then, even in his sleep, they tightly wound through yours. You sighed to yourself just as the youngest prince spoke.

“You know what my brother is like…”

You looked over your shoulder at him, gaze meeting his as he watched you two with his hands behind his back. The fairness of his skin was made all the more so by his dark attire, and as he stared you down, you frowned.

“I…do not-.”

“I know you hear the whispers,” he quietly interrupted. “We all have.”

You swallowed, heart sinking as he brought up Aegon’s disgusting nature.

“I know you see the fear in their eyes whenever he comes around…whenever it’s their turn to tend to his chambers and food…”

You looked away, shaky gaze finding the floor.

“It’s either them or you,” he brutally murmured, causing your stricken gaze to land on him again. “…and my brother has never been one for patience.”

“Aemond-.”

“Do you think…that playing the ignorant fool…will save you?”

You furiously blinked, not even realizing you were crying until the tears hit your cheeks.

“Why are you saying this to me?”

“…because perhaps you stood a chance once, a long time ago, but the moment has passed.”

He blinked at you, and if you did not know any better, you would say that the look in his eye was pitying.

“…and I do not believe in delaying the inevitable.”

You sharply exhaled at that, chest tightening, and Aemond left you without another word. You stared after him with parted lips, wet cheeks cold from the air that hit them before turning your face away, visage crumbling as he voiced what you were always thinking.

There had always been some part of you that wondered if Aegon only did to those poor women what he really desired to do to you. There were many nights you had lied awake wondering how much torment you could save if you only gave in, but there was a part of yourself that you never wanted to face. A part of yourself that was selfish and still hoped for marriage to a nice man and a good life beyond Aegon’s reach. You had convinced yourself that it was still possible somehow despite the phantom grip prince Aegon had on the back of your neck.

When you finally pulled your hand from his, you were desolate in returning to your chambers. Aemond’s words were heavy in your mind for days, so much so that you found yourself staring at him almost with a glower, silently begging him to take them back. Inevitable. Gods, how you hated that word, but it was true.

Your life had become inevitable.

You had plucked a flower, Aegon had plucked you, and from that point on, your life became inevitable.

“They are talking of marriage for my baby brother,” Aegon slurred, chuckling to himself. “…finally.”

He stumbled into his chambers with your help, plopping onto his bed.

“Truthfully, I do not know why our mother did not just…marry him off to Helaena. We all would have been much happier for it,” he almost sneered at the mention of his sister.

You went to pull away when he reached up, fingers digging into your arms through your sleeves, a look in his eyes that you could not place. They were glassy and lilac and almost pleading beneath that layer of coldness.

“Do you wish to marry some day?” he murmured, looking up at you.

“Doesn’t every girl?” you replied, avoiding an answer.

Aegon briefly looked away, scoffing to himself before those dead eyes met yours again.

“I suppose so… I suppose you want a beautiful gown and flowers in your hair and a sweet wedding night to match…”

His tone was almost mocking, and you frowned at him.

“I suppose,” you weakly told him, trying to get him to lay down.

“…and…do you want those things with Aemond?” he almost seemed to force out, glassy eyes trained on you.

His words took you by surprise, catching you off guard.

“Aemond? No,” you lightly chuckled, shaking your head. “No…”

It was a stray thought here and there, but nothing more. Aegon seemed to study you, jaw ticking and gaze hardening.

“I see you look at him sometimes…the way you look at him lately…”

Your frown deepened.

“Aegon-.”

“He’d never touch you,” he suddenly spat, making you flinch. “Not unless he wanted to lose that other eye.”

You hissed at the venom in his words, attempting to step back, but he only held you in place.

“Don’t be cruel,” you cried.

“I am not being cruel, I’m being clear.”

You could not move, and Aegon’s fingers absentmindedly massaged your arms. He pulled, causing you to stumble closer, and he lowered his head, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“Why don’t you love me?” he murmured.

It sounded like he was talking more to himself than you, but then he lifted his gaze, chin resting on your stomach now. His blond hair fell back away from his face, and despite the tears in his eyes, there was an anger there that made you shudder.

“I get it. I am not…the kindest…and I am no gentleman like my brother,” he sneered. “…but have I not…?”

Aegon licked his lips, the top one curling over his teeth a tad.

“Have I not given you everything?”

His hands slid down to your wrists, tight around them, and you winced.

“Have I not given you all?”

You had no response to that for he was right. Everything you had, you owed to Aegon, and some part of you had always dreaded the day he’d come to collect. He abruptly stood, and you almost tripped over your feet. He drunkenly eyed you with a wild look in his gaze before reaching out and ripping the comb out of your hair. You helped at the slight tug, eyes wide as he threw it to the ground.

“Your pretty pins…your pretty necklaces,” he ripped the jewels from off your neck. “…the clothes off your very back are because I gave them to you.”

“I-I know that,” you shakily said to him.

His hands found your throat, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to be alarming. You reached up to touch his arms, and Aegon’s gaze flickered between your eyes. His breathing was heavy, and you blinked out more tears.

“You say that,” he murmured, roughly brushing a thumb over your mouth. “…but I think it’s time I finally remind you.”

“Aegon-.”

“…time I finally get what I am owed.”

Prince Aegon’s lips were rough on yours, tasting of sweet wine. He kissed you like he was trying to take all of your breath away, and in the back of your mind, you noted that this was your first. You were unsure of what to do, pulling at his hands and trying to lean away.

“Wait,” you mumbled. “Stop, I-.”

“Stop?”

He pulled away from you, a deep frown on his face.

“What right do you have to tell me what I can and cannot do?”

Your gaze was pleading, hands futile as they pushed at his chest.

Aegon’s lips were just as hungry as before, teeth nipping at your lips and hands rough on your body. He cared little for your dress, ripping it off of you in any way possible. The cold air had you pressing yourself against him despite yourself, and he was eager to trap you in his arms, nails dragging along your skin.

The fear of what was happening wholly hit you once he tried to lay you down, and although the small grin on his pink lips told you that he enjoyed the small fight, the ravenous look in his eyes betrayed his impatience. You could do nothing but cry when your back met his bed.

Aegon took his time in kissing his way down your body, a childish eagerness in him as he seemed not to know where to play his lips next. He wanted to taste all of you at once somehow, and even though it was impossible, he was determined to try. With his face between your legs, you tried to run away, but his arms snaked around your thighs and held you in place.

“I will show you,” he promised into your skin. “I will make you addicted to my very touch.”

The conflicting feeling of pleasure from someone you feared made your head spin. Your hands flailed, unsure of where to put them at every swipe and swirl of his tongue. One eventually tore at the sheets while the other reluctantly found his hair. Your stomach clenched, and your chest arched, and you fought between pushing him away or pulling him closer.

When wave after wave of ecstasy washed over you, you did not know how to handle it. It was the most intense thing you had ever felt, and Aegon did not let up until you were practically sobbing again beneath him. Drunken lips danced their way up your frame, kissing your skin in no certain pattern, and Aegon’s hand slid along your neck.

“I plucked you…like you were my very own flower…”

Your lips parted into a silent scream, nails clawing at his skin when he pushed into you with no warning. Your vision blurred all over again, tears falling past your ears, and Aegon’s fingers pressed into the bone of your jaw.

“I watered you…I made you bloom…”

His hips snapped against yours, his thrusts short and forceful. He leaned in to bite at your neck and shoulder, marking you and tasting you. You pushed at him to no avail, and Aegon seemed to let out a growl of frustration, fucking you harder.

“I will reap the benefits of what I have sewn,” he said through clenched teeth.

His hand was harsh in your hair, tugging on it and yanking your head back. Your nails pressed into his shoulder, and you cried beneath him. Aegon either paid your tears no mind, or he actually enjoyed the sigh of them. His cock pushed into you and stretched you in ways you did not think was possible.

Much to your horror, eventually, your pain gave way to more pleasure. It still stung and was still uncomfortable, but that same heat as before began to creep along your body. It started deep in your gut before slowly spreading to every part of you. Aegon hovered over you, looking down at you and repeatedly looking down to where he disappeared into you.

You were afraid to look.

You were afraid of what you might see.

“So pretty,” he said to himself, pressing his forehead to yours. “…and all for me.”

His words had you squeezing your eyes shut, turning your head away with a cry. His mouth was at your ear, labored breathing and soft lips. His blond strands brushed your skin, and you cringed when he placed a kiss just below your ear.

“You will know true satisfaction by sunrise.”

You were still wiping away a stray tear when your chamber doors were opened. The woman behind you paused, fingers still on the laces of your dress when he spoke, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

“Leave us,” he deeply said, tone leaving no room for argument.

When you had quietly snuck out of his chambers during the early hours of the morning, you knew that your solitude would not last long. It did not mean you were not allowed to mourn it though. You remained still as he approached you, and a shiver traveled down your spine when his soft fingers grazed the skin of your back.

He said nothing as he finished her job, hands running down your sides, greedily tracing your curves as he stepped closer. It was only when his arms came down over you, the cold feel of a necklace on your skin, did you finally lift your gaze to meet his in the reflection. Aegon looked more than satisfied with himself as he secured the piece of jewelry at the back of your neck.

Your lips parted, another tear skipping down your cheek as his chest brushed your back. He reached around to take your chin in his hand, holding your head in place while he pressed his lips to your cheek. They lingered there, and he held your gaze.

“Flowers…for my flower.”

#aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd fanfic

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justaninchident-f1xreader · 3 months

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max verstappen x reader part9

(incase you missed part8- https://www.tumblr.com/justaninchident-f1xreader/740597178369802240/max-verstappen-x-reader-part7?source=share)

themes-

ferrari female driver jealousy enemies to lovers possible spice (i will put the warning accordingly)

warnings- mentions of past abusive relationships

chapter 9- i'll be your anchor in the storm

It has been a few days since the saucy and spicy social media exchanges. All the drivers decided to go for a casual night out. The Monaco night thrummed with the usual post-race buzz, a symphony of tinkling glasses and boisterous laughter. Yet, amidst the revelry, Y/N's silence resonated like a discordant note. Her fiery eyes, usually sparkling with mischief, were veiled by a layer of worry, her smile strained at the edges. She fidgeted with her phone, her gaze darting around the room like a cornered animal.

Max, ever the observant predator, caught the tension radiating from her. He approached her, a wary concern creasing his brow. "What's with the ghost act, L/N?" he asked, his voice low and gruff, devoid of its usual playful bite.

Y/N flinched, startled, as if his presence had snapped her out of a trance. "Nothing," she mumbled, shoving her phone into her purse, but the tremor in her hands betrayed her words.

Max wasn't convinced. He knew her well enough to recognize the telltale signs – the nervous chewing of her lip, the way her fingers danced anxiously on the clasp of her purse. He pulled out a chair next to her, his gaze unyielding. "Spill it," he commanded, his voice laced with gentle authority.

Y/N hesitated, her silence stretching like a taut chord. Then, with a deep breath, she began to speak, her voice cracking with repressed emotion. "He's back," she whispered, her eyes darting towards the doorway, as if fearing a phantom presence.

Max felt a cold knot tighten in his gut. "Who?" he asked, his voice hardening.

"My ex," Y/N whispered, her gaze finally meeting his. "He…" she choked on a sob, the memory of past trauma raw in her eyes. "He got out."

Max's jaw clenched. The details of Y/N's past were whispers in the paddock, rumors of a violent relationship, scars hidden beneath her fiery spirit. He had never dared to pry, respecting her private battleground. But seeing her fear unfold before him, raw and visceral, ignited a protective fire within him.

He pulled her chair closer, offering a silent sanctuary. Y/N leaned into him, seeking solace in his quiet strength. In a halting voice, she recounted the ordeal – the chilling phone call, the constant dread, the fear that had crawled back into her life like a venomous snake.

"He.. he used to hit me, use me and leave me like i was a worthless doll. He criticized every feature that i had and made me feel bad for existing. When I started to do better in karting and racing, he hated me for it," Y/N took a breath and continued, "One night, when my friend Percy gave me a new book, he got jealous and he tried to...he tried to force himself onto me and I lost it. I smashed his head with the nearby lamp and called 911. He went to jail but he's getting out now. And I know he's out to get me"

Max listened, his usual stoicism cracking as he witnessed her vulnerability. He clenched his fists, a storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. The man who had hurt her, who had dared to dim her fire, would feel the full force of his fury.

When Y/N finished, her voice a trembling thread, she buried her face in her hands, tears soaking through her fingers. Max hesitated, then reached out, his calloused thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. He didn't offer platitudes or false promises. He simply held her gaze, his eyes pools of quiet strength, an unspoken vow etched within them.

"He won't touch you again," Max said, his voice deep and unwavering. "I won't let him."

The words were simple, yet they held the weight of a promise, a declaration of his unexpected but fierce protectiveness. Y/N's tear-filled eyes searched his face, finding validation, comfort, and something more – a spark of something she hadn't dared to acknowledge in the heat of their rivalry.

The night club dimmed around them, the music fading into a distant hum. The other drivers, sensing the charged atmosphere, retreated, leaving them alone in a bubble of shared vulnerability. In that intimate silence, a connection crackled between them, more potent than any post-race adrenaline rush.

Y/N reached out, her hand trembling slightly, and traced the outline of Max's jaw, the callouses beneath her fingertips a tangible proof of his strength. His gaze met hers, unflinching, reflecting the storm brewing within him and the tenderness reserved for her alone.

The lines had blurred. Rival, teammate, protector – Max Verstappen was now something more, a shield against the shadows of her past. And as their eyes locked, the unspoken tension between them, fueled by jealousy, competition, and now, a dawning protectiveness, threatened to ignite into something far more combustible than the champagne bubbling in their abandoned flutes.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The spark crackling between Max and Y/N ignited into a searing flame as their lips drew closer. The tension in the air, thick with unspoken emotions, finally found its release in their shared breath, a promise whispered on the cusp of a kiss.

But just as their lips met, a chilling voice shattered the fragile moment. "Y/N!"

A figure emerged from the shadows, his face contorted with fury. It was Ethan, Y/N's ex, the embodiment of her past trauma, a nightmare made flesh. He held a metal rod in his hand, its glint reflecting the cold anger in his eyes.

Max's hand shot out, clamping onto Y/N's arm, pulling her back like a shield. Her eyes, wide with fear, met his, a silent plea for protection flashing within them. His own gaze, now glacial, locked onto Ethan's, a silent challenge issued across the dimly lit room.

The tension crackled, thicker than the smoke curling from abandoned cigars. Ethan, fueled by a twisted possessiveness, took a menacing step forward, the rod held aloft like a twisted trophy. "You think you can steal her from me, Verstappen?" he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Max, ever the strategist, remained calm, his voice a low growl. "She's made her choice, Ethan. And it's not you."

The air crackled with the promise of violence. The other drivers, sensing the imminent storm, edged closer, forming a silent barrier between the two men. Lando placed a hand on Y/N's shoulder, his own anger simmering beneath his calm facade.

Y/N, however, refused to be a damsel in distress. She straightened her spine, her voice ringing with defiance. "I'm not yours to steal, Ethan. I'm my own person, and I choose who I want to be with."

Her words hung in the air, a declaration of independence that pierced through the suffocating atmosphere. Ethan, his facade of control crumbling, lunged forward, the rod aimed at Y/N.

But Max, faster than a lightning strike, reacted with lightning speed. He shoved Y/N behind him, taking the brunt of the blow on his arm. A sharp cry of pain escaped him, but his eyes remained fixed on Ethan, a predator protecting his prey.

The room erupted in chaos. Lando tackled Ethan, wrestling the rod from his grasp. The other drivers, spurred by a shared sense of protectiveness, formed a human wall around Y/N, shielding her from further harm.

Max, his arm throbbing with pain, held his ground, his gaze never leaving Ethan. The storm within him, fueled by jealousy, protectiveness, and now, a surge of adrenaline, threatened to break free.

But before he could unleash his fury, the security guards arrived, alerted by the commotion. They swarmed Ethan, disarming him and dragging him away, his screams of rage echoing through the nightclub.

Y/N, still shaken but unharmed, rushed to Max, her eyes filled with concern. She cradled his injured arm, her touch a balm on his pain. "Max," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

He looked at her, the storm within him subsiding, replaced by a quiet tenderness. "It's okay," he rasped, his voice strained but reassuring. "He's gone. You're safe."

In that moment, amidst the chaos and the aftermath, a new understanding bloomed between them. It wasn't just about rivalry or competition anymore. It was about a bond forged in the crucible of fear, a silent promise of protection, and a connection that went beyond the surface.

The Monaco night, once a celebration of victory, had become a battleground for a different kind of victory. The race for Y/N's heart had taken a dangerous turn, and Max Verstappen, the unexpected hero, had stepped into the ring, claiming his place as her protector. But the battle was far from over. The shadows of Ethan's threat still loomed, and the race for Y/N's heart had just become a race against time, a gamble fueled by fire and the promise of a love forged in the face of danger.

writer's note- guys this was a bit different, i did want to add more emotional aspects to the story and i really worked hard writing this one. tell me what you think. WE LOVE LANDO IN THIS ONE.

#formula 1 #max verstappen imagine #red bull racing #charles leclerc #ferrari #max verstappen x reader #carlos sainz #f1 #lando norris #max verstappen #mv1 fic #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 imagine #mv1 smut #redbull racing

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thelordofgifs · 11 months

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Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Character List!

Ok it's a slow work day so I started thinking about how to seed the bracket and have come up with an "obscurity ranking" of every blorbo submitted. The full list of 128 characters, ranked from least to most obscure, is below the cut.

A few quick notes:

I spotted a couple more duplicates after closing the form, and added in a few blorbos that people mentioned they didn't have time to submit in the replies!

obscurity ranking = number of works the character is tagged in on AO3 * number of submissions. A pretty crude measure, but it works imo.

Next steps are to decide how exactly I want to seed the bracket (should the most obscure blorbos face off against the least obscure? Or is that unfair?) and then to try to set that up. Thoughts and opinions on this welcome!

Bofur Tauriel Dís Beorn Nerdanel Círdan Elros Oropher Lobelia Sackville-Baggins Finarfin Amrod Idril Ecthelion of Gondolin Huan Finduilas Faelivrin Halbarad Eärwen Lalwen Belladonna Took Bain Haleth Beleg Mablung Tuor Nimloth Anairë Rían Míriel Daeron Andreth Tar-Míriel Eöl Thuringwethil Mahtan Finduilas of Dol Amroth Findis Argon Eluréd Elurín Rog Nellas Curufin's wife Tom Bombadil Beregond Egalmoth Arien Pengolodh Ioreth Olwë Edrahil Ingwë Salgant Ilmarë Tar-Ancalimë Tevildo Amlach Erendis Tilion Nessa Caranthir's wife Gamling Bill the pony Barliman Butterbur Ancalagon Berúthiel Mithrellas Pearl Took Faniel Urwen Elmo Eärnur Mahtan’s wife Gelmir Guilinion Legolas of Gondolin Andróg Fíriel of Gondor Silmariën Tata Eorl Meássë Lothrandir Nob Golodir Vidumavi Inzilbêth A fox passing through the woods on business of his own Imin Tinfang Warble Corunir Elulindo Hareth Belen Eldacar of Gondor Gwindeth Ilwen Eilinel Enel Hirgon Gelmir (messenger) Bór Narmeleth Horn Nuin Faramir (son of Ondoher) Beleth Findegil Makar Andvír Ornendil Meril Golfimbul Ainairos Larnach’s daughter Jajax Viznak Ælfwine Hiril (daughter of Barahir) Youngest of Finrod's Ten One (1) Rivendell elf who sings tra la la lally Bingo Baggins Bëor's wife Múta Random orc of Morgoth Narthseg Ulbandi Miaulë The chief dancing bear of Númenor Erutáro

#obscure tolkien blorbo

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cathedral-of-sinners · 2 years

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Play Time!

Kinktober Day 7 - Sex Toys + Tartaglia

Genre: Smut (MDNI)

CW: sub!reader, gn!reader (no pronouns/genitalia mentioned), petnames (baby, dear, darling, sweetheart), ONE (1) use of slut, brief praise, orgasm denial, a little aftercare, wearable vibrators, public sex, swearing, teasing(?), dirty talk, use of Childe's real name

a/n: Apologies for the late publish but I was unfortunately busy during the end of September and the first little bit of October (not to mention lack of motivation) so I'm only getting to Day 1 - 14 now. Not to worry, all days will be posted eventually! It’s just a matter of when and in what order lol.

Regardless, I hope this is at least decent! I'm new to writing full on smut so I'm really sorry if it's not the best!

Your eyes widen in horror, watching as Childe goes to speed up the vibe. The new level of stimulation has your hips shifting, legs twitching. Oh, how you wish to buck your hips, just to feel a sliver of friction. Alas, the audience of patrons around you prevents you from doing such.

“Is something the matter dear?” You hear his tease more than anything, unable to bring yourself to lift your head from its spot in your hands, instead opting to act like you're shifting into a more comfortable position. The minimal relief it gave was enough to hold on to the last bit of control you had. All you can do now is hope to finish this dinner date ASAP.

“Pardon me, but are you alright?” The sudden appearance of your waiter shocked you into straightening up. Archons, this was the last thing you needed. Through the haze of lust you compose yourself, hoping that you're able to sell the lie.

How foolish you are to think he wouldn't use this to his advantage, milking it for all it can be. What an evil, evil man the ginger in front of you is, turning up the speed again. "I'm alright, I just- ngh!"

The reaction to the new wave of vibrations was unavoidable and you end up hunching over, barely suppressing a moan. The waiter begins to spew worry after worry, but you pay no mind to them. The only thing you can focus on is the innocent smile Childe gives you across the table as he leans his cheek onto his propped up hand. Cheeky bastard. Well, then you suppose he deserves a nudge between the legs himself.

You were able to bump your target, the smile wiped clean off his face and to be replaced by one of shock and barely contained lust. It was all worth it until a dangerous glint sparkled in his eyes. You’d pay dearly for your actions later…You got bigger fish to fry though, because if you didn't act now the whole restaurant would surly look your way.

Managing to bullshit some excuse about an upset stomach while stifling a whimper, Childe took this as his cue. Standing from his own chair he feigned concern as he placed a hand on your elbow and shoulder, convincing those around he would take care to escort you home. However, not a street away and the male has you pushing up against an alley wall, back pressing against the cold stone as his lips meet yours feverishly.

"Bravo," he teases, kissing along your jaw and up to your ear, "what a marvelous performance you put on for me. I was worried we'd be caught, but you managed to keep it together. As always, you do not disappoint." You gasp at the feeling of his hot tongue licking a straight line, nearly buckling to the ground if not for the the knee he's situated between your legs.

As your lover works to mark and bruise any skin he can reach, Childe dips a hand under your waistband, skillfully unclipping the toy just enough to move it aside. “Don’t fail on me now sweetheart,” he whispers. The dangerous tone his voice held was all you needed to let you know you were in for it now. No mercy would be served to you - you were going to get fucked here and now.

As he touched you like he’s done so many times before a breathy chuckle tickles your ear, shivers running down your spine. “Look how turned on you are for me. Were you that excited at the opportunity of someone finding out?” Yes is what you confess to yourself, but can’t voice it even if you wanted to. Not with how his thumb relentlessly circles your most sensitive spot, or with how the rest of his fingers toy with another part of your sex.

“Answer me darling.”

“Y-yes, I liked it. Fuck I really liked it!” you gasp, bucking your hips into his hand. With the nonstop toy usage you’re already close, so fucking close.

Satisfied with your answer, Childe hums, hand retreating and leaving you high but far from dry. Whining, any complaint dies on your tongue at the swift tug of your clothes, stripping you of any fabric that separate him from your twitching hole. The sudden coolness of the night air felt nice on your hot skin, but even more so on your throbbing sex.

Collecting your arousal, Childe flips you around so you’re facing the wall, spreading your slick along your opening, fingering and scissoring you hastily before lining up the tip of his cock. “You ready?”

You babble out a flurry of ‘yes’s and ‘please’s, eager to finally feel him. You're more than ready, you've been ready for some time now.

Something between a sigh of relief and a pleasured moan slips past your lips when he final pushes in, the sounds of sin echoing faintly in the vacant alley. With the burning flame set alight in you both finally being tended to, all care about someone catching wind of your naughty deeds flies out the window.

"You feel so good, so tight for me darling." Childe breathes, leaning and hooking his arms around your waist as he sets a brutal pace, slamming his hips against yours with renewed vigore. It’s the need to feel you wrapped tight like a glove around his cock that’s taking hold of all rational. "So, so good, playing along with my fantasies so willingly. Naughty slut."

Somewhere in the throes of pleasure your eyes slipped shut, focusing on nothing else but how nicely Childe's dick stretched you, rubbing against that sweet spot deep within and then some, how his balls would slap against your skin with ever particularly rough thrust.

Archons, you're all for tender and romantic moments but there’ll always be a special place for fucks like this in your heart. Even on cool nights like this these devilish acts keep you pleasantly warm and heart a flutter.

The next handful of minutes are a blur of intoxicating pleasure, and with no signs of the ginger slowing down you're certain the long anticipated climax is just around the corner.

Picking up the telltale signs, Childe pipes up, “you gonna cum baby?” Unable to manage words you nod vigorously, the beginning of tears pricking your eyes.

All in one go the fast rhythm slows down a couple notches to practically nothing. It’s enough to give you whiplash. Turns out what you though was a precursor to permission was actually what led you to losing that high. The first cohesive thought in a while that filters through your mind is that Childe isn’t going to let you cum at all. That… that is a fearful thought: after all that build up no less!?

"A-Ajax? What are you do-ah!-doing?" You manage to ask, though something tells you you already know what he's up to. What else could he be doing just out of eye sight other than reaching for the forgotten vibe?

"Well, I have to punish you for that little stunt you pulled before." he replies, continuing to keep you on edge. You're not really sure you can take anymore abusing from the tiny toy but nevertheless let him clip it back into place. The second it's turned back on you're jerking back into his hips, an unrestrained moan spilling out. There's no way it went unheard.

"Close, 'jax, 'm close. Please let me - let me cum this time, please!"

He laughs, something close to the one he lets out in the midst of an interesting conversation or high stakes battle. At the same time his cock twitches inside you. Unbelievably sexy, it shoots pleasure right to your core. It only dawns fully right then that he’s getting off on your suffering. “Alright,” is all he gives, picking up in his bruising pace once more, spearing you on his cock. If the twitching you feel is anything to go by you’d put your mora on Ajax growing close to his end too.

He’s a man on a mission now.

Reaching below he presses the vibrator further again you as he pounds away, determined to make you cum hard. Slurring of his name fall from your lips as you work to meet his thrusts, the knot in your stomach almost at its limit.

As you twitch around his length, Ajax goads you on, the final push you needed, “that’s right baby, let go and cum for me.”

And it snaps, your climax finally achieved just as Ajax slams into you one final time, stilling his hips as he lets his hot cum paint your insides. Only after he’s sure he’s emptied every last drop from his balls does he move again. Play time’s over.

Sliding his cock free from it's confines, Ajax keeps you steady on your feet much like earlier. This time though there was care in his touch as he fixed your clothes, switching off the toy completely. Pressing tender kisses to your temple, your lover gives you a moment before slowly guiding you both home. As you pass by the unaware, Childe occasionally asks if there was anything you need the moment you got home - water, a bath, anything and it's yours.

Though when you smile and decline, reassuring him that you're all good, you made the mistake of joking that you could even go for another round. And you realize this, but the dark tone that swirls in his eyes tells you you can’t take it back.

"Oh? Then don't think we're done sweetheart. When we get home you're really in for it. Clear your schedule for tomorrow because I don't intend to let you go at all tonight."

Tag list: @rain-soaked-sun @stygianoir @the-purity-pen @londonstylesxx

#—val writes #childe x reader #childe x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin childe #genshin impact childe #genshin kinktober #genshin x reader

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swanhild · 1 year

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Family Portrait

For the first time in his life, Ñolofinwë manages to have the upper hand in an argument with Fëanáro.

He regrets it almost immediately.

Written for the @fellowshipofthefics April challenge (prompts: dress-up, escape, ordinary)

Read here on AO3

- - -

The artist Finwë had commissioned to paint a portrait of his family was due to arrive any moment now, but there was still no sign of Fëanáro.

“I told you he would refuse to show up for this,” Findis said to her mother and Ñolofinwë.

“Well, looks like you were—once again—wrong about something then,” Fëanáro drawled, sauntering into the room as if magically summoned by her words.

Findis only rolled her eyes at him, but Ñolofinwë couldn’t help but respond to his older half-brother.

“At least she’s here on time and dressed up already, while you look like you just crawled out of some shrubbery!”

It was true, Fëanáro was wearing simple work clothes that bore traces of dirt and soot in some places, and his hair was a mess. Ñolofinwë could even see a small twig trapped in the remnants of a braid that had mostly come loose.

“I had more important things to do,” Fëanáro replied dismissively and then eyed the elaborate, gem-studded garments his half-siblings and stepmother had already put on.

“You look ridiculous,” was all he commented and then plopped down onto a chair next to Lalwendë, who was playing with her wooden toy horses on the table.

The nursemaid feeding baby Arafinwë on Lalwendë’s other side flinched, as if uncomfortable with having Fëanáro so close to her or to the children in her care.

“You’re the one who’s going to look ridiculous next to us, if you don’t get cleaned up and changed!” Ñolofinwë shot back.

“Boys,” Indis said tiredly.

Fëanáro ignored her. “I’m not going to wear some stupid outfit just so I can match with the rest of you!”

“Then put on some other clothes of your choosing. Just make sure they’re clean and fit for the occasion,” Indis suggested, voice carefully gentle and placatory.

“No.”

Ñolofinwë threw his hands up into the air. “Why are you even here then, if you are only going to be difficult and can’t even be bothered to look presentable?!”

“Because Atar asked me to. He didn’t mention anything about dressing up like fools.”

“Fëanáro, please! At least let me fix your hair a little,” Indis pleaded, a tinge of impatience now creeping into her voice as she reached out for her stepson’s long, unkempt tresses.

“Don’t touch me!” Fëanáro yelled and slapped her hands away. “What do you think gives you the right to do that, you scheming, usurping—“

“Fëanáro!” Finwë reprimanded with uncharacteristic sharpness from the doorway he had now appeared in. “Do not talk to her like that!”

That was enough for Fëanáro. He shot his father a look of betrayal and stood up abruptly, roughly shoving his chair away from him and accidentally ramming the sharp corner of the chair’s back into Indis’ stomach.

Keep Reading on AO3

#fotfics #feanor #fingolfin #silmarillion fic #silmarillion #indis #findis #finwe #my writing

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sillysistersusi · 2 months

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Be Yourself

Nerdanel × fem!Fëanor

Fandom: the simarillion

Summery: Fëanáro realizes that she likes Nerdanel. But that is wrong, isn't it? Luckily, Mahtan is there to help and make Fëanáro see that there is nothing wrong with her for liking another woman.

Author's note: Let me just say I have a lot of feelings about Nerdanel/fem!fëanor. I really love it! I kept the name Fëanáro, since it only means "spirit of fire" and so it is not really gendered. Anyway, hope you enjoy reading!🥰

Fëanáro had always felt strange when she was in Nerdanel's presence. Because Nerdanel was so beautiful, she was so strong that she could lift Fëanáro and she was even taller than her, which always facinated Fëanáro a lot.

The way Nerdanel's beautiful red hair flowed over her shoulders and the way the corners of her mouth twitched upwards every time she looked at her made sparks fly in Fëanáro's stomach.

She caught herself looking at Nerdanel a little too long or wondering what her lips tasted like. Fëanáro was sure they were either sweet, like the berries Nerdanel always secretly picked from the bushes when Mahtan wasn't looking (although he always noticed and then smiled gently) or they would taste salty, like the sweat that always ran down Nerdanel's face when she was very concentrated on her sculpting.

Fëanáro had sometimes secretly observed Nerdanel biting her lip in concentration while she was thinking or changing something on her sculpture.

Sometimes Fëanáro wondered how many freckles Nerdanel had. Surely she not only had some on her cheeks, but... also on the rest of her body.

Imagining Nerdanel's naked body always made Fëanáro feel an unfamiliar heat that she had never known before.

And then, one day in Mahtan's forge, as she rolled up her parchment scrolls with designs at the end of a long, hard day of work, Nerdanel walked past the forge and winked at her. Fëanáro had felt her blush. A roll of parchment had slipped out of her fibres and her heart had been doing somersaults.

And then it had dawned upon Fëanáro. She was in love with Nerdanel.

But could that be true? Should that be true? Nerdanel was a woman like her, so should she even fall in love with her? That wasn't right, was it? Finwë always told her to marry an ellon because that was the right thing to do. He had never mentioned that such a thing was possible.

Was there something wrong with Fëanáro after all, like everyone said? Had something gone wrong with her? Was she ill? She shouldn't fall in love with an elleth. That was not what she was supposed to do.

Fëanáro sank to the ground as her knees trembled so much that she could no longer stand.

Suddenly she felt a pressure behind her eyes and her vision blurred.

Finwë would be so disappointed in her. Maybe he would even disown her if he knew about Fëanáro's false feelings.

But Fëanáro had no one but him.

She tried in vain to hold on to that wonderful feeling she had always felt when she had looked at Nerdanel, but it was now surpassed by pure sadness, disappointment and anger.

Even if Finwë didn't mind that his eldest daughter was such a freak, Fëanáro didn't even dream that Nerdanel would return her feelings. She would be so disgusted and repulsed. But what would Fëanáro be worth if nobody wanted her anymore? After all, the birth of Findis had shown that even her Atar could replace her if he wanted to.

"Náro, sweetie, what is wrong?"

Fëanáro jumped and looked in complete shock at the face of Mahtan, who had approached unnoticed and crouched down next to her.

She stared at him impassively while her thoughts raced. She didn't know what to say now, because Mahtan knew that this wasn't a problem of her not getting something right with the designs, because he had helped her with them and knew that they were good. Nor could her tears be from injury, as the fire had been cold for a long time. They had only forged in the morning and then moved on to theory lessons only.

Fëanáro realised that Mahtan had never seen her cry before, which probably explained the very worried look on his face. Because no matter how bad a burn was, Fëanáro had never cried. Not because it didn't hurt, but because she usually didn't even notice it as she was too engrossed in her work.

"Not so important." she whispered shakily and cried loudly. She loved Mahtan, he was like family to her and she didn't want to lose him, and surely he would throw her out if he found out that she was in love with his daughter. And then Fëanáro would have to explain it to her Atar and he would throw her out and then-

Mahtan put a hand on her shoulder and whispered: "Náro, you have to breathe."

Only now did she realise that she had started to hyperventilate. She tried to relax her breathing a little, but with her fear it was almost impossible. She didn't know what to do.

"Náro?" Mahtan's voice sounded so worried and it gave Fëanáro a twinge. Not even her father ever spoke to her so gently. Especially not since he had a new family.

That was also the reason why Fëanáro whispered: "Mahtan, I think something is wrong with me." More tears rolled down her already very wet cheeks.

"What could be wrong with you, Náro?" Mahtan asked in a gentle voice. The thumb of the hand on her shoulder massaged light circles into her shoulder. "You seem perfectly normal to me, in your own special and beautiful way."

When Fëanáro didn't reply, Mahtan asked softly, "Is someone harassing you? Has someone told you that you are abnormal? Because then I will have a word with that person. Or even better, I could send Nerdanel to- "

At the name 'Nerdanel', Fëanáro let out a soft whimper.

"Does it have something to do with her?" Mahtan asked patiently. "Should I bring her in?"

But Fëanáro didn't want Nerdanel to know of it. And knowing Mahtan, he wouldn't let her leave until she had told him what was bothering her.

"I am in love." she whispered softly. Her cheeks turned red and her gaze travelled down to the ground.

"But that is great," Mahtan said. "Why do you say it like you are ashamed of it?"

Fëanáro buried her face in her hands so that she didn't have to look Mahtan in the face as she uttered the next words: "I am in love with Nerdanel."

Mahtan's hand travelled from Fëanáro's shoulder to her back and rubbed it gently. "Nerdanel is really great, I cannot deny that- Náro, why are you crying even harder now?" Fëanáro felt him gently place a hand on her hands, which were still covering her face, and gently stroke them. "What is the matter?"

"Well, she is an elleth, I should not be falling in love with her. I should fall in love with an ellon and marry him and have children," sobbed Fëanáro, who couldn't understand why Mahtan was still so calm.

"But you can do the last two things with an elleth too. I have heard a few stories about two ellons or two elleths who got married and the Valar gifted them children. It is a bit different than usual, but that does not mean it is bad or does not work out," Mahtan explained calmly. "Your purpose in life is not just to be a wife or a mother, Náro, it is to be yourself."

"But it is unnatural!" cried Fëanáro desperately, pressing her palms firmly against her eyes as if she could suppress her tears that way. Like a plaster on a wound. "Atar never said there was such a possibility!"

"Well, but there is." Mahtan said softly.

Fëanáro slowly looked up from her hands. Mahtan smiled gently at her and Fëanáro couldn't help but smile back.

"So you do not think I am disgusting?" she asked cautiously.

He shook his head. "Not in the least, Náro. Not in the least."

"Come on." Mahtan said after a while, during which Fëanáro had just stared at him in disbelief. "It is getting dark and I should really start cooking dinner. You can just stay with us this night and if you have any questions, you can always ask me or my beloved wife if you want. We are going to try to answer everything we can."

He pulled himself up and helped Fëanáro to her feet, who was still trembling a little. He gently wrapped his arms around her. "It is all right," he whispered softly. "I think you should talk to your Atar. If he is really against it, there is always a place for you here, do not worry."

~•~

That evening, Fëanáro lay in a small guest room, where she had already often spent the night when she had worked too long on some project, and stared at the ceiling.

Nerdanel had lent her one of her nightgowns and Fëanáro loved the feel of the fabric against her skin. It wasn't made of much different material than her own nightgowns, but the fact that it belonged to Nerdanel made it special. It was almost as if Nerdanel was touching her skin and not the nightgown.

She wasn't quite sure what to think about everything that had happened that day, but she was relieved that Mahtan was still by her side. It was nice to know that someone believed that she was normal and not unnatural.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" Fëanáro was a little confused, after all, it was the middle of the night.

Nerdanel stuck her head through the door and Fëanáro's heart skipped a beat.

She slipped quietly into the room and closed the door softly behind her.

"I know that something has happened and I just could not sleep without knowing if you were all right," she said.

This little sentence sparked such a flood of emotions in Fëanáro that she could only shrug her shoulders.

Nerdanel approached Fëanáro and lay down next to her in bed. She had often done this before, but that had been before Fëanáro had known that she was in love with Nerdanel.

"I will stay if you want," she said gently and began stroking Fëanáro's hair. The feeling her fingers left on her scalp was almost magical.

She knew that she wouldn't have been able to sleep that night anyway, so at least she had a good and endearing distraction now. "It would be nice if you stayed, Nerdanel."

Fëanáro really liked saying her name. Nerdanel.

And Nerdanel smiled.

#cross posted on ao3 #female fëanor #fëanor #fëanáro #fanfiction #fanfic #nerdanel #nerdanel x fem!Fëanor #fem!Fëanor #mahtan #mahtan aulendur #silm #silmarillion

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sotwk · 3 months

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I didn’t realise that you answered so soon! You are thanking me?! I am thanking YOU, my friend for your fast reply and beautiful writings.

Yep my crying was definitely the good kind and much needed, I’ve to say. I’m an emotional type of gal (also a wreck). Toddlers are such treasures and your little boys sound so sweet too, I hope your husband is feeling better and that the weekend was great for you all.

“He's just that shy, slightly awkward and nerdy guy who might get overlooked for being quiet, but he's actually a hottie who's unaware of his own sex-appeal.”

This, like, this is so true and I couldn’t have said better. Thranduil needed those 3/4hundred years cooking, it did him good for his temperament.

We have brothers! YES!

First age is definitely tragic, those boys needed more time for sure, they deserved to see their little sister happy, luckily the two youngest had each other for a time and yes I want to know more about the cousin I just know he is just as wonderful as the Thranduilions. Can’t wait!

I definitely overlooked the references to the cousin in the other ffs, and as soon as I have a few minutes I’m going to go get another look.

Also I'm very curious about Glorfindel and his family, his granddaughter (great-granddaughter? don't remember atm sorry) is a great oc already.

With love,

Anon who asked about Celebrian

I am thanking YOU, my friend for your fast reply and beautiful writings.

I wish I could tattoo this in my brain for the down days when I feel like my writing is nothing more than "silly nonsense" or "a waste of time". Your encouragement and eagerness to discuss my AU with me is a treasure beyond price and I am so grateful to be one of the writers you have chosen to spend your precious time on.

I admit one of the main reasons I have so far mostly danced around going into detail about First Age ancestors (Maglor, Círdan, Glorfindel, etc.), is because I have low confidence in my knowledge of the Silmarillion (I read it once, years ago, and so my recollection of all those details is not exactly solid), and I am intimidated by the expertise of Silm fans. Those I am mutuals with are sweethearts, but I have run into some less kind ones, unfortunately, so I'm a little gun-shy.

Anyway! Here is what I can offer/clarify for you regarding Glorfindel in the SotWK AU:

SotWK AU Headcanons: About Glorfindel

Glorfindel is the son of a Vanya father and of Findis, daughter of Finwë and Indis. This makes him not any mere "kinsman" of Turgon, but his most devoted cousin.

Glorfindel secretly loved Elemírë (oc), the twin sister of Elenwë, who had followed her sister and brother-in-law across the Helcaraxë.

But the Exile made their love story a turbulent one, and they did not confess their shared feelings until the Long Peace, although when they did, they married soon after.

During that peace they had one child, a son called Ingwil (oc).

Ingwil became the grandfather of Itarildë (oc), who would become the wife of Crown Prince Mirion and daughter-in-law of Thranduil. Thus you can see that Itarildë (the Quenya name of Idril) was in fact named after her grandfather's favorite cousin.

I mentioned this in a previous post, but in my Fili x OC fic, "The Only Gold", Anariel, Thranduil's granddaughter, is called "my kin" by Elrond: "This is her home, Master Gloin," Elrond responded sharply. "Where you are the visitors. We practice great tolerance in Imladris to make allowances for cultural differences. But I will not abide the harassment of anyone, least of all my kin."

This also means Glorfindel provided the Vanyar ancestry that resides in Crown Prince Aranion (Thranduil's grandson and heir), so that in the Fourth Age, Eryn Lasgalen is ruled by an elvenking with the blood of all three clans of High Elves.

There you go! Perhaps someday I will write a story about First Age Glorfindel and the OC wife I created for him. It's a wonderful romance sitting in my head! But my to-write list is super long as is, so I can make no guarantees.

I feel like I can fancast just about any character in Middle-earth, EXCEPT Glorfindel! (Maybe because I already used Henry Cavill for Mirion, haha.) If anyone has any good suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them!

Tagging just a few friends I know who have a particular fondness for Glorfindel: @modernmythic @aduialel @wareagleofthemountain @g-m-kaye

#sotwk answers #anon asks #i have the best anons #anon kindness #sotwk headcanons #sotwk ocs #sotwk fanfiction #glorfindel #thranduil #silmarillion #lotr #the hobbit #tolkien #anariel #aranion #itarilde

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finweanladiesweek · 7 months

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DAY TWO: Findis and Írimë Lalwen Tolkien left us little information about Findis and Lalwen, the two daughters of Finwë. From this, how do you extrapolate their personalities and relationships? What were the difficulties of being Noldorin princesses in a world so focused on the exploits of their brothers? Why did Findis choose to remain in Aman while Lalwen followed the host of the Noldor to Middle-earth? Were they married, and did they have children? Is there a reason beyond narrative sexism that they were left out of the narratives of Arda? This day is for exploring and creating characters around the names and scant details of Finwë’s daughters.

These prompts are optional, and we are open to any content about the Finwëan Ladies whether or not you stick to our suggestions! Please tag your posts with #finweanladiesweek AND @ mention this blog @finweanladiesweek so they can be easily found. If your submission turns into a long post, please put what you can beneath a “Keep reading” divider. If you are posting your submission to AO3, you can add it to the event collection here.

#finweanladiesweek #silm #silmarillion #the silmarillion #tolkienedit #findis #irime lalwen #irime #lalwen #mod post #day 2 #2023

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aracaranelentari · 5 months

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I just read ur hc about Fingolfin being a dancer and can I hear more about our dancing king please?

Happily! I could talk about Fingolfin for hours-

Indis is described as being "exceedingly swift of foot" and loved to sing and create music. I believe that she passed these traits down to her children in different ways and capacities: Findis is a great singer and loves to run in the fields of Valinor with her mother (I hc that she's the most like Indis), Lalwen is also very athletic but Indis' musical traits manifested in her through a love of playing instruments rather than singing or dancing, and Finarfin is less athletic but also enjoys singing and making music (he hangs out with the Teleri after all). And, of course, Fingolfin, who has the agility and swiftness of his mother in an even greater capacity, which translates in a musical sense to dancing.

In my headcanon, he had an affinity for it from a very young age, and he befriended Nessa in his youth, and she taught him how to dance. The Vanyar are very close to the Valar after all, and Indis is kin to Ingwë himself, so I think her children would have quite a few friends among the Valar.

Fingolfin was really talented at dancing, hence why he was noticed by the Vala of dancing herself. He has complete control over his movements and has the stamina and strength to never tire, and the way he twirls and flows and prances around is so mesmerizing it makes the viewer forget time is passing. He was well known for this among the Vanyar, who value beauty and the arts.

The Ñoldor value skill in crafts and words, however, and Fëanor especially, and I think this is where the self-consciousness I mentioned in that headcanon post comes from. Fëanor would absolutely take every chance he could to prove he's daddy's #1 boy, and I believe this would include belittling Fingolfin's dancing skills, as well as taking every chance he could to overshadow anything Fingolfin tried to do with a fancy new smithing project that would naturally get more attention from the Ñoldor, and from Finwë, than dancing ever could. At some point, I think Fingolfin started being ashamed of his own hobbies and abilities, and eventually his insecurities made him swear it off entirely (at least publicly, in private and with his siblings and mother I think he still found joy in dancing).

He never lost his skill in it, however, and I think this became important during the Helcaraxë crossing and in the wars of Beleriand. On the Helcaraxë, Fingolfin taught his people how to step lightly and swiftly so the ice beneath them wouldn't break, and so they could spring to the side if it did. He taught his soldiers agility and footwork, and how to move your shoulders and arms so that they become one with your blade. Fingolfin fought like he was dancing, and he fought so beautifully that sometimes orcs would stop in their tracks, hypnotized, and in the blink of an eye he'd strike and they'd never move again.

I like to think that Fingolfin regained a lot of his fractured confidence during his time as High King, when he realized that he had useful skills that Fëanor never had, at least until the end. We all know how Fingolfin kept leaping aside to dodge Morgoth's attacks, "as lightning shoots from under a dark cloud", and only faltered once he became weary. Since I headcanoned Fingolfin as being nearly tireless in his dances earlier, I think his weariness during this duel came from a place of burning himself out with such intense fury and despair, as well as the duel lasting a long time, potentially hours.

And once he was reembodied, and came to terms with himself and accepted both his own strengths and weaknesses, he officially took up dancing again. Elves from all over Aman come to his performances, and he has a particularly famous number where he reenacts his duel with Morgoth. He does duets with Indis and Nessa, and also regularly spars with Eönwë, since to him that's just another kind of dance.

Hope you enjoyed my word vomit about dancer!Fingolfin~!

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fingolfin #indis #feanor #helcaraxe #findis #lalwen #finarfin #nessa #i started writing a fic a while ago where maedhros discovers fingolfin dancing in the forest #maybe i should take that up again

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maeofthenoldor · 1 year

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Why does the Tolkien charachters give us such gender? Like such a variety of trans vibes

here I need to make an official list of all Tolkein’s trans charachters (In my head canons ofc).

-Trans masc Maedhros (He/him)

-Trans masc Curufin (He/him)

-Intersex Galadriel (she/they)

-Trans masc Celeborn (He/him)

-genderqueer Sauron (all pronouns)

-Trans fem Findis (She/her)

-Trans fem Caranthir (she/they)

-Nonbinary Findulias (they/them)

-Trans masc Maeglein

-Demi boy Daeron

-Genderfluid Narvi (she/he)

-Trans masc Tuor (he/him) (This is a really unpopular one but hear me out he just gives such transness-)

-Trans fem Idril (She/her)

-Agender Elemirre

-Genderflux Luthien

-Pangender Rog (He/they/it)

-Agender Edhrahil

-Trans fem Arwen (she/her)

-Trans masc Bilbo (He/him)

-Non-binary Frodo (they/he)

-Nonbinary legolas (they/he)

-nonbinary Pippin (they/them)

-Trans fem Tauriel

-Trans masc Kili

-Bigender Eowyn

-Trans faramir

Anarion: trans Masc (he/they)

Honourable mentions:

Gandalf big naturals

Witch-king: Nonbinary icon and a drag king

Saruman: Drag queen

The one ring (precious/preciousses)

(these are all my head canons, dont take them too seriously. you can have completely different opinions, I’m open to ANYTHING.)

Feel free to add on!!

#tolkien #trans character #lotr #silmarillion #trans maedhros #headcanons #queer #Opinions?#maedhros

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dysfunctional-family-fight · 9 months

Text

Propaganda for House of Finwë

Probably contains spoilers for The Silmarillion, idk I haven't read the book.

"Look these are the most dysfunctional murder family, literally everything that happens in the book is caused by Feanor and it just keeps going and going and going because his sons swore an Oath that will ultimately lead to the end of the world. Also they're all dead except for Nerdanel (Feanor's wife) because she was smarter than them and didn't you know. do murdery events. Celebrimbor was perhaps the best of them but he also fucked up and messed with Sauron and that happened. Anyways there's the local kidnap dads (Maedhros and Maglor) who adopted two brothers (Elrond and Elros) because they killed their parents, there's a lot of trauma, and a whole lot of dysfunctionality."

"The whole events of the Silmarillion - including a few wars, a dark lord, the destruction of a continent, etc - revolve around this family's drama"

"Fëanor, Finwe's son by his first wife blames Finwe's second wife Indis for his mother staying dead. Then after Finwe's death the whole family falls into a series of succession disputes."

"Well míriel died and finwë remarried to indis, and fëanor hated his half siblings, going so far as to threaten fingolfin with a sword. Then after the fëanorians and fingon and maybe others killed a bunch of people, fëanor abandoned fingolfin so he couldn't follow, and when finarfin turned back his kids didn't and they left him. After that it's all feuds and murders and death and treason and such. Greatest hits of that include maeglin betraying turgon and trying to murder idril and eärendil, plus maedhros and maglor kidnapdopting elrond and elros. Also we don't even know who gil-galad's parents are"

"HOO BOY. Okay. Keep in mind that this is the royal family and therefore their problems are also everyone else’s problems. Roughly in chronological order:

Finwë’s wife Míriel dies of Magic Postpartum Depression after giving birth to Fëanor. This is a BIG DEAL because they are in a land where death is supposed to never happen.

Finwë remarries, and Fëanor decides his new stepmom Indis is definitely a wicked stepmother whom he should hate. Indis is literally just vibing, BUT her marriage to Finwë does mean Míriel can never come back to life (for weird elf reasons), so there is that. She and Finwë have more kids: Findis, Fingolfin, Finarfin, and Lalwen.

Fëanor takes offense at linguistic drift changing the pronunciation of his mother’s name, and makes it into a political issue that is Definitely All Indis’s Fault.

The big bad of the novel starts spreading rumors to cause MORE strife within this family, as if they needed that. As a result, Fëanor comes to believe that his half-brother Fingolfin is trying to usurp his position as crown prince. Meanwhile, Fingolfin is also persuaded that Fëanor is an extremist who’s bad for their people, and becomes his political rival. This is unhelpful of him.

Fëanor repeatedly asks his niece Galadriel to give him some of her hair, because it is so pretty. Galadriel repeatedly refuses because what the heck. This is mostly irrelevant but I felt it deserved mentioning.

Fëanor holds a sword to Fingolfin’s throat in the middle of a public council meeting, right in front of their dad.

The divine beings that rule this land exile Fëanor from the city for threatening to kill his half-brother. For reasons best known to himself, their father Finwë decides that the best way to protest this encroachment on his kingly authority is to publicly support Fëanor by exiling himself as well.

Fëanor’s wife invents divorce.

The big bad murders Finwë and runs away. Fëanor is now king, and decides to lead his people to go fight the big bad. Despite Everything, all his half-siblings except Findis decide to come too.

Problem: there’s an ocean in the way. Solution: murder and boat theft. This is mostly Fëanor and his kids’ doing, but one of Fingolfin’s kids helps as well. Everyone is horrified, but (with the exception of Finarfin) not horrified enough to refuse to use the stolen boats.

Problem: there’s not enough room on the boats for everybody. Solution: Fëanor and co. steal the boats Again.

Problem: Fëanor is still afraid Fingolfin will usurp his position, so he kinda doesn’t wanna send the boats back for him once he and his own people have crossed the sea. Solution: arson.

Problem: Fingolfin and co. have no stolen boats left. Solution: hike across the Spiky Death Arctic (previously rejected as a travel option due to the Spiky Death part) in order to go punch Fëanor in the face. THERE’S SO MUCH MORE. Pretty much the entire plot of the book is these idiots’ family drama. It indirectly results in the destruction of a continent. It’s great."

#propaganda #house of finwë #the silmarillion

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