Callunastorywild

they/them 🏳️‍🌈 20 y ↑

[mxnessx]

📣 Hello, i'm thai people so this Tumblr will be thai language so.. Don't ask me why I am not write it in English version, and somtime I'd rather go with english but if quite wried please remeber english is not mother tongue.

[silversilm]

interlude: cramps

pairing: maedhros / reader

summary: maedhros comforts you through cramps, thats it thats the post

contains: afab!elf!reader who gets periods, still referred to with gender neutral terms. very brief mention of period sex, comfort through bad cramps, I don't know or care if elves get periods I'm taking creative liberties. stand-alone fic, but it was written with hm!reader in mind

-

Maedhros watches you, rather worried as you pace back and forth across the floor, fists clenching and unclenching at your sides as you do so. 

Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until you have to stop and lean against the wall, face screwed up in pain. 

Your bleeding cycle was a particularly vicious one, he knew. A period where you were excused from most, if not all, tasks, given leave to rest as best as you could. In Tirion, it was hardly ever this brutal, pain seemingly dulled in the Valar’s world meant to exist without it. Or maybe there were just more remedies for such maladies, more things to soothe the pain. 

As it was, you had no such luxury, other than a crude pain killer you could only take in spaced out intervals.

He’s familiar with this time. Has seen you at its best and at its worst, kept you company when you had to pace, held you as sobs wracked your body on the rarer occasions. 

“My love?” He questions as you stop and all but keel over.

“Fine,” you croak out, taking all your effort to try and breathe through a nasty wave of pain. You start to pace again, nails digging into your palms as you breathe in and out on counts, focusing on the repetitive actions to keep you grounded against the pain. 

He’s seen you work through this before, knows that even now you could push this all aside and stand straight should you demand it of yourself. He thinks of your form on the battlefield, blood running down half of your face, one hand holding a knife stuck in your side so it doesn’t slip out as you swing your sword with the other. 

He thinks if you put your mind to it, if needs must, you could push through anything and persevere.

Wordlessly he stands and offers you his hand to hold. You take it and grip it like a lifeline, and slow your pacing so he can circle around with you. It's easy enough even with the extra steps he must take circling on the outside, for he is far taller than you. 

The next hour finds you in different positions around the room, in attempts to soothe the waves of debilitating pain. Lying face down on your bed, fists bunching the covers. Pacing back and forth across the floor. Curled up with Maedhros, his warm palm on your lower stomach, until you grow restless with pain once more. Lying on your back on the pelts on your floor, bouncing your legs and closing your eyes. 

More than once, he offers his hand in another sense, to help draw away the pain with pleasure. You both know this to be an effective method, and Maedhros is not shy nor disgusted by the mess it produces. But each time you decline, claiming to feel far too gross to have him touch you as such. 

He supposes this to be a good sign - were you desperate enough to escape the pain, you would take him up on his offer anyway, any other discomfort almost minuscule in comparison to the discomfort of the unbearable pain.

If he could, he would take this pain away from you. Would help you bear it, so you wouldn’t have to suppress noises of pain and ride through waves of torment. 

Eventually, you find a spot on the floor that suits you well enough, on the soft furs with a pillow underneath your lower back. Occasionally you shift your hips, or bounce your legs, working through a wave of pain - you squeeze his hand through them, only able to close your eyes and wince. 

The intensity evidently starts to dim after a while in this position. You tell him you think it’s the pain killer the healers had provided you with finally kicking in, and while the cramps aren’t gone, they don’t have you writhing in pain anymore. 

“Thank you,” you whisper after a long moment on the floor. Your hand has relaxed in his, though he keeps a hold of you anyway. “It can’t be easy having to deal with - with all of this.”

“The only pain it brings me is seeing you in pain, melda,” he says, and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I have seen you get cut with swords and show less of a struggle than this. I couldn’t imagine it.”

By the time the cramps pass enough to have you relaxing, you’re falling asleep on the furs, curling up close to Madehros. He holds you close, resting his hand over your lower stomach, far warmer than any blanket. 

There’s no better feeling than drifting away safe in his arms, peace after so much pain and discomfort.

[nigelgraz]

Delicate

[nigelgraz]

Sunkissed

[lxdymoon0357]

Hold you down!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I haven't read 'Closet fan princess' or 'I'll be matriarch in this life', so I cannot unfortunately write for them. But I can write for Caelus, so this post is solely for him.

GENRE: Smut || Drabble

WARNINGS: Era typical ideals of marriage. I only did fingering, no idea what to do after it. So we're stuck here. OOC? Fingering. Spitting. Edging (slightly). Crying. Mentions of murder. Divorce. Pussy-eating/eating out. Oral (f receiving). Cowgirl. Initially reader isn't sure, but she ends up matching his freak in a way...? Tell me if I missed something.

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

Requested by Anon—

Hi i hope your doing well .your yandere caelus was so good😍 Would you please do a yandere caelus ( from for my derelict favorite ) and yandere kylo (from the closet fan princess) and yandere clerivan pellet (ill be matriarch in this life) x wife reader (sepeeately)? Like reader thinks they (the boys) love someone else and suggest divorce (please make it suggestive scenario or smut ) ? Thank you❤

For one, a life as a noble is never easy. Never easy. Love is difficult to find and even when you do? You have to be strong and resilient for the love to last. You hoped that would be the same one occurring to you, considering your marriage was arranged to Marquis of Vrandt, Caelus.

Beautiful, cold and gentle. He had only divorced his recent wife, Lady Hestia. Apparently since their marriage had been a contract, he had no problem getting out the marriage and marrying you. You were everything good in a lady. Arranged marriage is more or less the direction nobles take for alliances and love is secondary.

But you hoped for love to blossom. Was it naïve to think so? Yes. But at the very least, civility was something you knew you deserved. Caelus was more or less absent from the marriage, while he was loving the certain days you spent together.

There were rules for you, Uros implemented them while lovingly but also firmly:

1) Do not go out without at the very least few bodyguards.

2) Do not spend time with people unless absolutely necessary.

and yada and yada and yada.

You were practically cooped up and you knew why: he was spending time with his ex-wife, Hestia. He still loved her. You knew it. Whenever you mentioned why Caelus kept getting her portraits switched with yours, Uros didn't say anything except mumbling about 'his grace loves you, do not fret'

You never mentioned Hestia, after her and Caelus' divorce. She was practically vanished and you figured it hurt his feelings that she left without a word. It's practically neglecting you and you were isolated, like he couldn't bare to look at you.

And you two hadn't even consummated the marriage..

When he did visit you?

His face seemed rather red, like he was containing to blowing up on you or something, his hand never strayed close to you and he only ever 'hummed'. Yet his eyes would bore into you as if hoping for you to make a mistake so he'd have some reason to leave.. That was entirely how it was.

But his reaction right now? No..You hadn't expected that.

Your hand held onto the divorce papers you had attempted to hand over, not only to free yourself from the utter isolation and neglect, but also to let him have his ex-wife, Hestia yet again.

"No." Caelus' voice cracked, his face crumpled uncharacterically expressive of disgust, panic and worry. You paused, your heel clicking as you took a step back, "..Excuse me?"

"You're not divorcing me," Caelus said, his hands held the other edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening, so much so you worried his skin of his knuckles would tear. His palms reddenning, "You're never divorcing me. You're not supposed to!"

His voice slightly high-pitched and panicked, almost too expressive from the man you'd come to know as your husband, The Marquis of Vrandt. His lavender eyes blown wide as he quickly walked around the table to get close. His palms reached out, but stopped as you clutched the divorce documents tighter.

"Do not worry for me, my grace. I shall be fine–I know you like Lady Hestia and miss her and–", "Who told you that?"

You blinked a little, confused and a bit more nervous. Your teeth gently catching your lip and biting down gently to ground yourself, chewing the skin of your lips.

His eyes stared you up and down, like he was still scanning for something. His brows furrowed like he couldn't believe you wanted to divorce him, his hands reached out, gently placing themselves on your shoulders, "You–please. Don't leave–I don't want Hestia. Never did. I haven't seen her since we married!"

"But–"

"No! I promise, just–" he sighed, pushing back his hair, hands sliding from your shoulder to your waist as he grabbed the divorce papers. You gently sighed out, "It's not like that! I want whatever you wish from me, you can be happy with Hestia!"

"I DON'T WANT HESTIA!" Caelus' voice rang loud as you flinched, stumbling back but nothing occurred as his grip around your waist tightened. Fingers digging in the flesh under your dress. Caelus sighed out, his face going back to that icy coldly beautiful face he adorned.

"You can't leave me–I shall not accept this divorce." he whispered, taking a step back while he held the papers. His hands held them, looking down before back at you and then–

"You won't leave me, I'll make sure of it." he whispered, tearing the papers in half before again. The tears biting the paper into smaller and smaller pieces. Your eyes and face winced a little when he sighed out, "I'm sorry.."

He didn't sound remorseful. You gritted your teeth, hoping to keep your voice silent. If you had to be insolent to get the divorce, so be it.

"Oh please! You haven't even consummated this damn marriage. You don't care for me. I haven't LEFT my room in the months we've married, not to mention how your cooped me up here like a damn pet!" You sucked in a breathe, hoping you weren't going too far.

But your mouth spoke before your brain, "You and I know both know you missed hestia. You've been having affairs, I KNOW IT!" you sighed, stomping your foot almost petulantly, pushing his papers off his desk.

"She is likely living somewhere you paid for her to live in, that's why she suddenly vanished and another marriage for her isn't heard of!" You banged your palms down, feeling the sting of the hit against the mahogany wood. Caelus' eyes softened and filled with worry as he reached out,

"No–no! Nonono, it is nothing like that!" His hands wanted to hold, but you flinched back, swatting his hands away as he pulled them back immediately. Like an obedient dog,

"NO..I divorced her to marry you! I don't love her, i'm so sorry.." His eyes looked like that of a guilty child's, it made you feel bad but you didn't want to! You were neglected and cooped up and isolated. Why should you believe him?

But he gently lowered his eyes, his hands clasped infront, his left hand picking at the nails on his right before he looked up, eyes blinking nervously,

"I haven't consummated the marriage..that makes our matrimony invalid, does it not?" He gently took a step back. You didn't get to protest when he grabbed you by your upper arms and with almost inhuman strength, sat you down on his work desk.

He gently leaned down, getting on his knees and his hands reached to your dress' hem, "Let me, please.." he whispered. Eyes hazing and decorating you. You pushed him back, "No–who do you think you are, your grace?!"

"Please, my darling. I'll make sure you feel so good–" he whispered, his hands gently held your ankles, stroking before they moved up, pushing the dress as he kissed your ankle.

His hands moved to your knees and then up your thighs, pushing your dress and gently probing his finger against your inner thigh, "Do not–oh—" you whimpered when he practically forced them apart.

His hands very gently stroked your panties, his pointer thumbing against your panties. His thumb gently circling where he hoped the clit was.

Was that how you got here?

Hot and blood rushing to your head. Sweat beaded against your thighs and Caelus' foreheads. His tongue gently stroking your cunt, while his thumb rubbed vigorous and almost pressuring circles on your clit.

"Mphff–" you whined, trying to not grind against his face. Except it didn't work as your back arched. Your fingers digging in his long white hair and shoving his face deeper between your thighs,

"yesh-yeahyeah–mhm..Mhh, yess, good," his tongue began to move in and out, just encasing the pressure in your gut and tummy, making your thighs shake, "Good, move against me, I know–feels good. Doesn't it?" He hummed, making you whimper.

"PLE-ease, your gracee! Mhh! Faster–more more!" you whined. Caelus' gently gripped your hip, shifting you to lay back slightly—giving him more space to kiss your cunt. His palms gently stroked your thigh, until he lifted his face up. His chin and lips practically glistening with your slick. Your inner-thighs sticky and clammy as you tried to not rub them together at the sight of your husband.

Yours. All yours.

"Mhm–move against my mouth, good—" he sucks hard, your hands tightening their grip in his hair making him groan. The vibrations making you stutter as you gently pushed him deeper,

"yeah. Good, please–don't leave." he begged, licking a strip up your slit, his pointer and middle gently entering while he thumbed your clit. His mouth moving to stare up at you.

His fingers gently sinking, "I don't—hmm..mh! Hm-yeah!" he whimpered, gently palming his bulge as he kissed your clit, sucking hard, "MH! Ca-Caelus-darling, plea-yess"

Your whimpers only worked to make him hard, as he pulled back, gently turning back to thumbing and tracing circles on your clit with his thumb, while his pointer and middle gently sunk deeper. His other hand pushing down your thigh.

I don't love Hestia–please. Believe me." He whispered, eyes pooling with overwhelming tears. You were so pretty, face and ears flush and body hot. Everything burning as you tried to chase pleasure. He only witheld it, you looked too cute for your own good.

His fingers gently pulled out, before sinking back in. Curling to nudge the spot and hit it with brutal and concise precision. His fingers moved faster, his lips capturing yours. The slick covering his lips, sticky against your own. His tongue gently grazing the teeth and your own.

Groaning at the taste of you, he pushed you back gently, pressing his hand on your lower belly. Fingers moving faster, the slick slightly spraying out while he leaned down to capture your clit between his lips against. Suckling hard or rolling it between his grazing teeth and gentle lips.

Your back arched, twitching making you whine, pleasure making you freeze in lamping your thighs together. His fingers somehow speeding up when you whined loudly, feet gently kicking out in subconscious protest.

"Yes? Good, right? I know–I'm sorry," Caelus whispered while his lips still kissed your folds and clit. His fingers curling deeper and tighter. "I'm sorry I took so damn long. I should've—I should've known."

"Your grace–"

"Caelus." Caelus corrected softly, sucking harder and pushing your thighs apart against gently. Sweat causing his pale skin to shine and his white hair to stick to his forehead and nape, eyes glowing and lower part of his face covered in spit and slick. "Please..don't–don't push me away. Call me by my name."

"Cael–" Your words cut off—whines escaping loudly—when his fingers gently plunged deeper, massaging into you g-spot. Caelus gently hummed in approval, "yesshh, like that," he whispered against your clit, sending vibrations down your clit and tail-bone upto your spine.

Goosebumps swallowing the surface of your skin at the pleasure when he hummed louder, moaning when you tugged harder on his hair. "Like th–tha-thaat! Ye–yes!" you whimpered, hips twitching and stuttering.

He smiled, gently pulling his fingers out. Thin strings of saliva and slick connecting to his long fingers, wanting to pull them back.Your walls squeezing and clamping as if upset at the loss of contact and your back arching when the pleasure faded. His fingers gently moved at your folds, around your cunt and teasing.

Tantalising in the way you had no idea if he'd push it in or no, occasionally slipping past the rim, but only a millimeter of his fingers or so to stretch you a little and hear your pretty whines and moans.

Caelus hummed, gently lowering close and watching your walls clamp, "Please-darling—Caelus. Pleasee, just–" you sucked in a breath when you felt his cool but warm breathe on your cunt, making you even more impatient, "Put your fingers–fingers in again!"

Caelus smiled, gently kissing your inner thigh before laying his cheek against your plushy thigh. Watching and admiring your cunt, before he sighed. His cock hard and painful with how much he wanted you on his cock. To stretch you, keep you warming him and make you ride him at your own pace!

He sighed, gently kissing your thighs, lining them as you whimpering. Thighs and hips twitching subconsciously, until he pressed a gently kiss against your clit and folds, "Pretty girl. Mine–" before he spit on it. His saliva warmer than you expected, making you groan out.

"I don't want you worrying about Hestia. She–" He sighed, gently pushing his fingers in before pulling all the way out and plunging them deep to his knuckles. You almost screamed at the pleasure, your thighs hooking up on his own while Caelus smiled.

He was gently placing his hand from your thigh to the back of it, around your hip to keep you close to the edge of his office desk, "She was only a contract marriage. Only for a while–" he said, as if to convince you, "I divorced her to marry you! I've replaced her portraits with yours too!"

Caelus' fingers began moving in and out, rougher and curling deeper, trying to pull you to the edge. Rougher, deeper, faster, stronger. He sighed out, until you whined out—

"Please–I need it!" He immediately dove his head against your clit, his fingers moving faster. Plunging deep, making your tummy tighten. His free hand travelled up, gently teasing your stockings before upto your lower tummy. And he pressed down on your tummy.

The pleasure made your hips stutter as you lifted them, but unable to grind with Caelus pushing down on your tummy and hips if you moved them, "Caeell," you whimpered. Caelus nodded, "mhm, yes. My darling, call my name."

His face buried as he slurped loudly, his licks covering your slicked cunt and inner-most thighs with saliva and juices, soft hums and whines as if he got pleasure from just eating you out. Your stomach tightening and a blunt pain of pleasure rising stronger, the pressure on your bladder.

Your hips twitched. His fingers curled in, not moving out. Only curling and uncurling to press into the gummy spot, the point of your G-spot and somehow deeper.

His voice spoke, whiny but desperate and as if expecting praise, "I told Hestia I wanted a divorce. Don't think about her!" His fingers moved as you whimpered out, "i'–I'm cummin–yesyesyes!"

"Come on, darling. A little more," he whispered, his fingers faster. Your were moving to the edge, "Hestia won't come back and I don't want her. Anyways–" His fingers moved faster, his lips wrapping around your clit.

"I got Hestia killed."

And he sucked hard. The orgasm washed over you like you had never expected it. It overwhelmed oyu to the point you had tears in your eyes as you moved your hips against his fingers while he moved them to help you through your high.

Not to mention how taken aback you were from the new of blatant murder. It was of surprise Caelus of Vrandt was a man of devotion. He had killed a family for the crown princess, but you. Oh you..

You were his TRUE love. Hestia wouldn't have kept him from you anyway. It was just an extra security step for your assurance.

You whimpered when you get down, panting heavily. Eyes shut to gather your body, still twitching and out of control like a liquid for you. You heard soft sounds of shoes when Caelus stood up. The fabric of his pants felt up against your thighs and you felt Caelus gently move his free hand, still clean from your stomach.

Then he pries it under your head and nape, gently lifting. His hand, still covered in your essence as you gently licked them clean. Groaning and his hips subconsciously against your thighs and the desk, before he gently leaned down and captured you in a kiss. The taste of your slick and cum still heavy on his tongue, his hips—for the lack of a better word—humping your thighs like a fucking dog.

He killed someone..He killed Lady Hestia! You couldn't believe your bones freezing and yet somehow the arousal in you heightened. Higher. You wanted more. You needed more devotional acts from your husband.

You gently felt him help you sit up, still kissing you with his tongue practically sucking yours. His hips humping your thighs and the desk for some form of relief. His hand behind your head and nape gently pushed you more into the kiss as you sighed out.

His other, wet hand—surprisingly—was gently tugging on the hem of the dress, which had been pushed a bit above your waist for access while he was between your thighs. But you grabbed his hand to stop him before he could pull your dress down. His froze in the kiss, before pulling away.

His cheeked reddening and sweat beading, but he was so desperate. He didn't mind you not giving him your cunt. Ever. But..Please–he couldn't handle it! Couldn't handle how your hands were stopping him from pulling your dress down bare. Other hand gently tugging on his belt, freeing his cock before he realised you did it.

More busy just gawking at your pretty face, until you tugged on his cock, stroking it and gently pulling Caelus right against you. Cock against your lower lips, grinding as he whimpered, leaning his chin down to bite on your shoulders gently. Sucking hickeys.

His hand gently lining himself up before pushing it in with a biig streetch. Gods, you drove him insane. Literally. Even with the way you demanded your needs be fulfilled silently. Caelus didn't bother or dare moving his hips until you gently pushed him out before tugging him back.

Almost using the Marquis like your personal toy. Caelus began moving his hips, smacking skin against skin with his cock soaking in your juices and his pre-cum when he moved inside your warm, wet and sopping pussy, squeezing him just perfectly. He threw his head back, whimpering as his palms gently massaged your hips while thrusting in,

"..Fuck–gods. Darling–ugh, you feel..you feel like he-heaven." he whimpered out, eyes watering as he moved his hips.Your hands pushed him against the desk, gently shifting as he pulled you against him. Sitting back on his desk while you straddled his lap, sinking back on his cock and his eyes rolled back into his skull.

You whined out, grinding your hips back against his to feel him even more, "yess, fuck..More, Caelus-more!" you hummed.

As far as Caelus was concerned? He wasn't divorced right now and he had finally not only consummated his marriage, making it valid. He was also removing every fucking thought of Hestia from your brain. Caelus worried he'd have to take more of an action against you.

He had been ready to kill people, accuse you of crimes, kidnap or even lock you up. But the way you use his cock as you rode him? The way you trailed kisses down his neck, pinching his nipples gently while grinding against him. Your hips moving expertly and slick dripping while your cunt tried to suck him back in whenever he pulled out to thrust deeper into you—shiitt.

Shit.. You had ruined him since the moment you met him and you're ruining him now with every breathy and whiny moan of, "Caelus, please-I need it..nghh-mhhh—I need you!" Who knew the best way to hold you down was to simply let you use him as you pleased?

© Writing belongs to me, Lxdymoon0357. Do not plagiarize, but reblogging, liking and commenting is deeply appreciated.

[doodle-pops]

Blah, Blah, Blah! Proper Name, Place Name, Backstory stuff... | House of Fingolfin + Gwindor & Gil-Galad

A/N: I had always loved this trend and found it funny to try with the elves, knowing that they would lose every argument or discussion once reader pulls this move on them.

Warnings: suggestive, minor arguments, handsome elves

Synopsis: When you find them distractingly handsome in the middle of a conversation, and choose to flirt with them.

Masterlist | Navigation

⋆˚✿˖° Fingolfin

You sat there with your legs folded beneath you, chin propped lazily on your palm and your eyes far from fixated on his face, instead on the way the sunlight haloed around his head, how the sharpness of his cheekbones cut shadows into his tanned skin, the noble slope of his nose, the proud curve of his mouth. He was rambling—something about “Victory, orcs, cavalry”—blah blah blah—but none of it touched your ears. Not when his tunic stretched tight across his broad chest, sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing the veined strength of his forearms.

“—and then I said to my nephew that if he would only—are you even listening?”

Blinking, your gaze slowly shifted up from the deep vee of his collar to meet his eyes, a striking icy blue that narrowed suspiciously.

“Hmm?” you murmured nonchalantly, still not paying full attention.

“I was telling you about one of the most decisive battles of the First Age and you are staring at me like you have never seen me before.” He had placed his hands on his hips, an act to assert his authority, and more importantly, for you to realise the importance of the topic.

Giving another bored hum, you openly allowed your eyes to roam up, down, back up this time. “You’re handsome,” you glazed honestly, and smirked when his scowl deepened. “Too handsome to be talking about...whatever you were talking about.”

The mere audacity of you to bravely utter such words, left him stunned. His mouth twitched, almost betraying amusement. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” Subtly, you leaned back on your hands, lazily spreading your thighs just a little, and watching how his sharp gaze flickered down before snapping back up to your face. “I didn’t hear a word of that history lecture, but I did enjoy the view.”

Fingolfin being Fingolfin, wasn’t too keen on accepting your dismissal to one of his great battle stories, however, he was willing to make an exception with the praises coming his way—every man had his moment of weakness. “Why must you be like this?” he sighed, sweeping his hand behind his neck and stepping closer until he stood directly before you. “I’m sharing tales of battle, of survival, and you reduce it to ‘blah blah blah’?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so distracting. You could be telling me the very song of creation, and I’d still be too busy thinking about your jawline.”

A hand shot out to catch your chin, tilting your face upwards, while his thumb brushed across your bottom lip. “Is that so?” he purred, leaning in while running his thumb along your lower lip. “Shall I recount for you instead how I took Angband by storm? Or would you prefer a different tale entirely?”

Leaning into his touch, you pursed your lips and gave a pout. “Less talking. Look more pretty.”

For the first time that evening, the High King’s lips stretched into a full, amused grin as he dipped his head to press his forehead to yours. “I suppose I can allow it. Only for you.”

⋆˚✿˖° Fingon

Sprawled beside you in the grass, arms tucked under his head, brilliant sky-blue eyes fixed on the clouds overhead as he launched into an animated story. His voice, bright with laughter, spun through the air as he recounted some ridiculous misadventure with Finrod and Maedhros—something about stolen horses, a nearly-burned-down camp, and an enraged Maglor. Though, it wasn’t captivating enough to draw your attention from the other masterpiece you focused on so dearly.

Not when his smile curved so easily, flashing those two dimples, not when his lashes caught in the sun, his dark, gossamer hair sprawled around him with one strand clinging to his lips. Not when the delicate point of his ears peeked through the unkempt tangle, not when his shirt stretched tight across his chest each time he laughed, breathless and animated, the buttons ready to give out.

“—and then the whole tent caught fire—”

“You’re so pretty,” you sighed dreamily without thinking, drinking in the lazy slant of his grin, the effortless beauty of his face.

For a moment, he faltered mid-sentence, head swivelling around with widened eye and parted cherry-stained lips. “What?”

“Gorgeous,” you repeated, half-hypnotised by the way the breeze lifted his hair and having it float around him like some divine being. “I have no idea what you’re saying. Something-something, blah blah blah. But you’re very handsome.”

There was a beat of silent as he blinked—you could see the gears turning in his head—before the sudden burst of delighted laughter. Throwing his head back with a boyish grin that made your heart clench, the sound of his voice rippled throughout the small glade. “That’s what you’ve been thinking this whole time? I’m out here telling you a story of heroism and disaster and you’re—”

“Not listening,” you added most helpfully, reaching out to toy with a lock of his hair, rubbing the silken strands between your fingers. “Too distracted.”

He grinned wider, biting his lip to suppress the next peal of laughter, and rolling onto his side to face you properly. “Distracted, hmm?” he teased with gleaming eyes. “Should I be flattered or offended?”

“Both,” you answered sweetly, leaning in to nudge your nose against his. “But mostly flattered. I mean, how do you expect me to focus when you look like that?”

He gave a phoney hum, feigning deep thought. “Fair point. I am devastatingly handsome…and heroic.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Unparalleled in skill.”

“Sure.”

He laughed again, shoving playfully at your shoulder before flopping back onto the grass. “You’re hopeless.”

“You love it,” you sing-songed, grinning as you pressed yourself against his side, pillowing your head on his chest.

“I do,” he admitted easily, as one hand carded lazily through your hair. “Even if you never listen to a word I say.”

“Just keep looking handsome, Finno,” you murmured sleepily, closing your eyes as the warmth of him and the rhythm of his heart lulled you into blissful calm. “It’s all I need.”

“You’re absolutely terrible,” he whispered fondly.

⋆˚✿˖° Turgon

“...And so you understand why the secrecy must be upheld, meleth,” he murmured, pausing to fix those piercing grey eyes on you, full of concern, of earnestness, of that goddamn nobility he wore like second skin.

You were supposed to be listening, truly you were, nodding in solemn understanding like any good lover would, but the only thing you could actually focus on was the way the soft evening sunlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the almost sinful curve of his mouth, and the deep cleft of his chin. Something about Gondolin, about duty, about the weight of the crown—yada yada yah.

His hands, long-fingered and elegant, moved animatedly as he spoke, gesturing in the air like he was painting, and yet all you could think about was how perfectly those fingers wrapped around a wine glass earlier, how they’d felt sliding up your thigh last night. The way his robes clung to his frame—enticing, but you could see the toned build of him underneath, lean.

Faintly blinking because you realised you hadn’t heard a single word, too busy ogling the way his mouth moved. Those soft lips shaping Elvish words that you’d happily let him whisper against your neck rather than into your ears. “Of course,” you murmured naturally, lips twitching in an attempt not to smirk. He was too handsome for his own good. Or for your good, more like.

“Did you hear any of that?” he asked while arching that brow of his perfectly, suspicion mixing with amusement.

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Something about Gondolin. And…uh, secrecy?”

Sighing in defeat, he gave a soft laugh, one of those rare ones that peeled away the weight of the king and left just a man. “You weren’t listening,” he accused, stepping closer, and settling his hands on your waist.

“Too distracted,” you murmured without shame, and then dropping your eyes to his lips before trailing lower to the expanse of his chest beneath blue and silver robes. “Do you have any idea how handsome you are? I stopped processing words the moment you started talking.”

“Is that so? And what distracted you most, hmm?”

“Jawline. Lips. Eyes. Shoulders. Hands. Everything, really.” You grinned while dragging your hands up his chest, feeling the hard plane of muscle hidden beneath velvet and silk.. “You could be telling me the world’s ending, and I’d still be thinking about how good you look while saying it.”

“Meleth-nîn, do you even hear yourself?” you muttered, clearly appalled, while half amused.

“I don’t hear a single thing whenever you’re around,” you corrected, pulling him in for a kiss that had nothing to do with secret cities or heavy crowns and everything to do with the simple fact that Turgon, King of Gondolin, was distractingly, devastatingly beautiful—and yours.

⋆˚✿˖° Argon

“You are the most frustrating person I have ever met.”

He was pacing up and down in front of you with his hair slightly tousled after running his hands through it in sheer disbelief more than once. But that wasn’t the worst part yet. It was the fact that not a single words that escaped his lips were absorbed in your head. In fact, they all went over.

“You can’t just—You can’t run into the fray like that! Do you even think before you act? Do you even—Are you listening to me?”

You were too busy watching the way his tunic clung to his shoulders, the ripple of lean muscle in his arms as he gestured in wild irritation. His lips, plush and pink, were moving too fast for you to catch anything, or maybe you weren’t even trying. Maybe you were just hopelessly distracted by the way the strands of hair curled around his jaw, the way his sleeves strained when he folded his arms tight over his chest.

No. No, you absolutely were not.

“Hmm?” you offered vaguely, tilting your head and blinking as if only just remembering he was talking. “Sorry, I was bust admiring how good you look.”

“What?”

“Did you know that you’re pretty when you’re angry?” you casually questioned, as if it explained everything. “I get distracted every time.”

You didn’t know if the sound that followed was a choking sound or bewilderment, but it surely wasn’t picked up by you. “I nearly died chasing after you! You could have been killed! And you were—You’re thinking about—?” His voice cracked slightly on the last words.

“Your eyes darken when you’re mad. Have I ever told you that? You should get mad more often. It feels as though you’re seducing me—I like it.”

He made another strangled sound, hands raking through his hair again, ruffling it even further. “This isn’t—I’m not—I’m trying to scold you!”

“You’re definitely failing,” you pointed out, utterly amused. “You’re too appealing when you’re flustered. It’s hard to take you seriously.”

For one wild moment, you thought he might genuinely throttle you or finally, finally kiss you. Instead, he spluttered, “I—! This is serious!”

Casually adjusting the collar of his tunic and continuing to ignore his pleas, you gave a nonchalant hum. “Mm. Is it? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get my attention? Because you could’ve just said you missed me.”

Groaning and looking around with the hope of someone being around so he could show them what he has to constantly put up with, he dragged his hands down his face with a whine. “You are vexing me I hope you know this.”

“Yes, yes. That’s what you always say, yet it is you who’s in love with me,” you reminded with such clarity, as though he wasn’t aware of the fact. “Clearly, you signed up for this, so enjoy my attention.”

⋆˚✿˖° Gwindor

“You’re not listening to a thing I’m saying.”

You blinked up at him, caught, but also…not. Not really caught, not when he looked like that. Hair half-damp, pushed back from his forehead, and a few strands had curled down over his temple. He wore his tunic loose, collar hanging open like he’d either forgotten to finish dressing or just hadn’t cared. Either way, it exposed the golden skin of his throat and the soft, flexing lines of his collarbone that moved every time he raised his voice—which he was currently doing.

“You promised. You swore you wouldn’t go down to the riverbank alone again,” he said, scowling. “There are orcs in that direction. Orcs! You didn’t even take your blade!”

You tilted your head, gaze lazily sliding down the line of his jaw. It was so sharp, so annoyingly perfect—had it always been that perfect? Or had he just gotten more attractive the angrier he got?

“Are you even hearing me?” he snapped.

You blinked again, slowly.

“Mmhmm.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s an acknowledgement,” you said vaguely.

“You’re mocking me,” he groaned, taking a step forward, close enough for you to see the way his lashes curled at the ends, thick and dark over those striking eyes. “This is serious! You could’ve been killed, you ridiculous—”

You weren’t sure what insult he was going to use. He cut himself off when he caught the look on your face. Not guilt, nor remorse—just that dreamy, unfocused haze of someone thoroughly, profoundly uninterested in the lecture being given. And then your lips curved faintly, signalling that you had something smart to say. “Have I ever told you that you’re very attractive when angry?”

A single brow twitched. “What—?”

“Actually, you’re always handsome,” you continuously praised, reaching out to idly play with the loose tie at the front of his tunic, tugging just enough to loosen it further. “But right now? The wet hair? The scowl? The whole ‘warrior-fuming-in-a-castle-corridor’ aesthetic? Delicious.”

Face utterly blank for a long moment as though you had grown five heads, a tail and a horn, Gwindor was hopelessly confused. “I…I refuse to accept this behaviour in the heat of our dispute!”

Scoffing at his response, you causally slid your hands around his waist, fingers drifting down to his belt and giving it a firm tug. “You can keep scolding me, if you like. It’s not that I’m not listening,” you said sweetly. “It’s just…all I hear is: ‘blah blah blah, I shouldn’t, but I did, and you’re displeased, yada, yada, yada—’”

He groaned, head tipping back in utter disbelief. “Oh, for the love of the Valar—”

“—‘incredible cheekbones, cut jaw, deep soulful eyes, scowl that could raise the dead—’”

His hands were already covering his face.

“—‘impossibly strong arms, nice thighs, very grabbable hair—’”

“What is Eru’s name is wrong with you,” he muttered from behind his palms.

“I think you like it,” you teased, standing on your toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Admit it. You like when I don’t listen because then you get to shout and huff and lecture me like a princeling and I just look at you like you’re the most appealing thing I’ve ever seen.”

Gwindor didn’t understand how he was so effortlessly disarmed with a sword being drawn, being forced to surrender to a battle he believed he had won from the start. All he could do was stare at you for a long moment, and then—like a man accepting his inevitable fate—he sighed, slid a hand to your hip, and gave you his surrender. A kiss. In return, you made a pleased noise against his lips, as you wound your arms around his neck when he pressed your back against the stone wall.

“You’re still not going near that river without me. I don’t care how handsome you think I am,” he growled in between the kiss.

“Deal,” you triumphantly cheered, already pulling at the tie of his belt. “But if I behave, I expect a reward.”

⋆˚✿˖° Gil-Galad

“Are you even aware of how many guards I had to send out to find you?”

You’d always known he was beautiful, but this level of regal, wrathful, breathtaking majesty was new.

“I asked you a question,” he commanded, crossing his arms over his chest and making them appear larger…plumper. “Why are you smiling like that?”

His tone was so polished, so official, so perfectly high-king—it should’ve made you feel at least a little guilty. But instead…instead you were marvelling at the way the firelight from the hearth made his silver circlet gleam like moonlight against his dark hair, how his robes hung so regally off his tall frame, how even while furious, he looked like he’d stepped out of a painting commissioned by the Valar themselves.

Trying to feign innocence, you blinked slowly and looked up at him.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

His jaw clenched. “You were meant to be in council this morning. Not halfway to the southern border chasing some idiotic—”

“‘Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor,’” you interrupted, tone dreamy. “Strong jaw, gleaming black hair like an obsidian waterfall, shoulders broad enough to hold the fate of Beleriand—”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“‘Wields Aeglos, spear of ice, so cold it burns, so deadly it could skewer Morgoth himself, blah blah blah—’”

“…”

“‘Most kissable mouth in all of Middle-earth,’” you hummed, grinning up at him. “With that little scar at the corner you always pretend isn’t there, but I know it’s from wrestling Círdan when you were in your forties—”

A beat of silence echoed throughout the chambers. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources.”

Feeling his walls broken down with the use of his most despised form of battle tactics, he huffed like a toddler and turning his back to you in what was clearly meant to be a dramatic and disapproving gesture. The action only enhanced his majesty, as his long dark hair swayed with the motion, falling over his shoulders in a silken wave you absolutely wanted to bury your hands in.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“‘High King of dignity and restraint,’” you intoned, walking slowly after him. “‘Tried to give a serious lecture but was too breathtakingly handsome to take seriously.’”

“Be quiet. Cease speaking.”

Slithering behind him, your hands slipped beneath his outer robe, brushing over the warm fabric of his tunic, then up and under, you pressed your palms against his bare skin. You were rewarded with a violent shudder and the sound of a half-defeat and half-convinced.

“You cannot seduce your way out of every reprimand.”

“Can’t I?” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “Because you’re not pushing me away.”

“I’m trying to maintain discipline.”

“Try harder.”

You felt him freeze beneath your touch, his muscled hardening like steel, before he turned slowly to face you again, eyes narrowed in that very specific, ‘you're about to be punished for this’ sort of way. But instead, his hand came up to cup your jaw, stroking his thumb slowly over your cheek.

“If I catch you sneaking out of this fortress one more time, you won’t be able to walk out your chamber, let alone past the door,” he growled just inched away from your lips.

Pleased with your succession, you grinned. “You promise?”

In place of a verbal response, he softly cursed, grabbed your waist, and pulled you right back into his arms before carrying you like a pillow down the hallway and back to his chamber.

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[tricksh0t]

★ need a ride?

☾ aemond targaryen x top m reader

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.04k

cw: very subby aemond, dom top m reader, riding, one spank, mean reader, begging, daddy kink, dacryphilia, sort of humping, the L word but you don't really mean it (love) though it's not implied enough, written with an age gap in mind

To have one of the princes of the Seven Kingdoms on your cock regularly was a privilege. What you've done with that is declare that you prefer him riding you over fucking him, just because of how pathetic it makes him. This time, you make him face away from you, tall, pale body tilted towards a mirror in front of your bed.

Aemond is more focused on the movement than the mirror, but if he looked, he'd find that your sight is more focused on what's in front of you, of course, his ass and the way it ripples every time he slams down hard.

It's rare, though. He's uncoordinated, a mess teetering on the edge of release, just waiting for your command. Seeing your cock disappear into his hole is pleasure enough, though.

"Please, daddy." Aemond sobs. Both eyes cry.

"Please what, sweet prince?" You tear your eyes away from his ass to watch him in the mirror, to watch how the tears stream down his cheeks and how his nose is wrinkled.

Aemond is usually fierce, usually aggressive, so ready to become a usurper, and he's crying on your cock.

"I–" Aemond shakes his head, hands gripping the sheets in front of him. He can't find the words, not between sobs and sharp inhales.

When your hand comes down upon his ass with a sharp slap, it shocks him out of his sobs. "Fuck!"

"Calm down, Prince Aemond." You call in a calm tone he'd find mocking if his mind were with him.

From a pit in your heart you do not often find in you, you grant him mercy, letting him take a break.

He moans when you grab his hips and make his take you whole, but leave him there. "What is it that makes you cry?"

Aemond moves to wipe his cheeks, but you catch the movement in the mirror and stop him; partly because you like the way he looks with his cheeks wet and, "Don't rub your cheeks raw, sweetheart. Just talk to me."

"'S good, daddy." Aemond says weakly. You're proud, at least, that he doesn't stutter.

"So why are you sorrowful?" Your hands rub circles into his hips, and that has them shuddering, rubbing your cock inside of him.

"I am not." He denies vehemently, shaking his head. His eyes finally meet yours through the mirror. "It's–they're happy tears. I think."

"Mm, that kind?" You hum.

Your low voice invokes a reaction in Aemond. He squirms a little on his knees. "Yes."

"Then what is it you plead for?" His mouth opens to speak, but you continue, "You have everything you could want. You have my cock, you have pleasure, you have Vhagar, you're a prince, you're wealthy."

"I–" So it wasn't just the crying that was stopping him from talking. He hiccups suddenly.

"You're embarrassed. Is that it, sweet prince?"

He nods his head just barely.

"Speak your mind." Your voice is commanding. His eyes shy away from yours. "We have known each other intimately, inside and out. You can barely stand being clothed around me. You bare yourself to me often. Surely that must merit a loose tongue."

"Please fuck me, daddy. I need that, I need it, please." He begs so sweetly.

When you give no response, he tries to turn around, but you swing him right back with hands on his shoulders. You click your tongue, and the combination of all that–your cock still in him, the disappointed sound, the manhandling–makes him flinch. "I did tell you that I wanted you to ride me, yes?"

Confusion spreads across Aemond's features along with some kind of hurt at not being able to see you outside of your reflection. "Yes?"

"Yes, who?" You ask roughly, slapping one of his dreadfully pale asscheek just to get a reaction.

"Yes, daddy!" Aemond practically wails.

"And you will do whatever your daddy wishes you to do, won't you?" You didn't even wait for him to reply, because it would matter little to you. "I told you what I wanted, and you didn't object. You do not get to change your mind now, boy."

"I–"

Your hand lays on his pale asscheek, and that reminds Aemond of, though he might not be able to see it, his other now red, stinging cheek. It shocks him into obedience. "Yes, daddy."

"There you are." You raise your hands up to hold his hips gently, a big contrast from how you handled him earlier. "Go on then, sweetheart."

Eyelids snap shut over violet and scarred blue eyes as Aemond gets back into a rhythm, or as best a rhythm as he can muster.

Riding you makes him feel like you're splitting him open, which he should like–love, even–but the movement makes his thighs burn and his knees ache.

He can't deny, though, that it feels fucking good. His gummy walls clench around your cock just to feel you more.

Aemond's bad at this, but he doesn't even realize it.

You do, plain as day. He's slow, never consistent, he finishes too quickly.

You do kind of like how sloppy he is, and how it takes him so long that your cock'll stretch him gaping. What he lacks in skill he makes up for in effort, and you know he'll always want to please daddy. Your praise misleads him.

You grasp his cheeks in both hands, making him gasp, and then you guide him. "Like that, sweetheart."

It's fruitless, as when you let go, he continues at his own pace. It's amusing, anyway, to see his face scrunch up with effort, truly believing he is doing as you asked.

"Yeah," You coo, hands settling back onto his hips and rubbing, "you got it."

You can see sweat trails on his back.

Aemond's giving riding your cock his all. He's always particularly enjoyed being full, and he wants that now. You'd call it milking. Redness burns in his cheeks.

Nevermind what you'd call it, Aemond wants it. He doubles his efforts, wanting it before, or even while, he cums himself.

He clenches the sheets, knuckles ghostly white against his already pale skin.

He can feel it, coiling up in his stomach. It's like dragonfire, the way it spreads throughout his body and excites him.

Aemond rides you faster after that, chasing his release. He wants it. Wants it, wants it, wants it.

The dragonfire turns to ash as a real fire burns, making his limbs ache.

"I can't." Aemond breathes out, out of breath with a dry tongue. Exhaustion makes itself evident the same way as pleasure did, spreading from his core to his knees to his arms. When he speaks next, there's a sob, "Daddy, I can't."

"What do you mean you can't, sweetheart?" You ask, pressing a thumb against the base of his spine.

There's sweat there, a thick sheen. "I'm–"

"Exhausted?" You click your tongue, and the burning shame of disappointment accompanies Aemond's exhaustion. "You've barely been on my cock for an hour, sweet boy."

"Please." Aemond begs. He slides his body down, pressing his chest to the sheets and arching his back; still on your cock and still on his knees, but you can see how they're about to give.

He's presenting himself to you, showing you what you can have.

"You can do it, Aemond. You've done it a thousand times before."

Aemond shakes his head. He doesn't even care for the way it makes him rub his sweat and tears onto the mattress below him. "Not this time, daddy please."

"Get up."

"Daddy–"

"I said get up."

He obeys, upper half lifting off the bed in a struggle. His calf slides out from under his knee in an effort to stand, but you grasp it harshly.

"I said get up, not stand. Turn." You almost regard him like someone that needs taking care of constantly. "Turn around now."

Aemond does so, gladly, happy to see your face even with the tears blurring his vision and even if he has to slip off your dick. You pull him further to straddle your hips.

"You," You begin, grabbing a handful of his hair to tuck his wet face into your neck. His chest presses against yours. "will keep going, and you will continue until I finish, you understand?"

"Y-Yes, daddy." His voice is shaky.

"Say it like you mean it. I've made this easier for you, I'm holding you up, you've got me to hold onto, and you'll be rubbing your cock right against me like a dog. So again, say it like you mean it, Aemond."

"Yes, daddy." Aemond says. You can hear it in his voice that he understands what you're giving him and that he's grateful. You're right, of course you're right. "Thank you, daddy."

He rolls his hips, a whole lot better than the bouncing he was attempting earlier, not for feeling but for how much less work it takes.

Pressed so close against you, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, with each roll of his hips he's pressing his dick against you. It's not intentional, just a byproduct of the proximity, but before long it becomes intentional.

He humps you more than rolls his hips, losing his mind in the pleasure. That slick feeling of his pre and your sweat making it good and easier only reminds him of Sylvi.

That only makes him feel better, imagining it.

Aemond moans, but it turns into a gasp when your fingers thread through his hair, stuck together with sweat.

"What did I tell you?"

His mind is lost to him, so he answers literally, "That you–you've made it easier."

You chuckle, "Well, haven't I?"

"Yes." Aemond breathes out. He doesn't even need you to correct him or ask, "Yes it does, daddy. It's so good, daddy. Thank you, thank you."

When he rolls his hips, it's shallow, barely rising up, but it feels good anyway. It's more about being full, taking his daddy's cock like he's made for it.

He already knows he'll be sore in the morning, hole melded to the shape of your cock.

His thighs burn again, but this time he'll get over it. It feels too good to give up.

You cradle him like he's entirely yours, a warm, guiding hand on the small of his back and another on the back of his head, keeping him against you. It's almost like you care for him.

You can still see his back, through the mirror. He rolls his hips too softly for it to be a sight, but you can still see the effort he puts into it. Furthermore, you can watch your cock disappear in and out of him, watch the way it stretches him, how it almost looks like he's sucking you in. That is what turns you on.

"Keep it going, sweetheart." You whisper into his ear.

"Yes, daddy."

You place a tender kiss at the top of Aemond's head and he shudders.

He's darn beautiful, he is. Clean shaven, everywhere. No hair on his arms, his chest or his legs. You know that special little attention to the cleanliness of his shaved hole is for you, too.

Outside of dragons, death and politics, he is rather sweet, you suppose; and no one else knows.

His lips grow apart, looser the closer he gets to release.

It's hot against your neck, your sweat and the remains of his tears, his everconstant pants, the overabundance of his messy hair.

He can't keep still, neither his hips nor his head. Sometimes his teeth find your skin, sharp like a preadator's. He'd never bite down, anyhow. Doesn't have the mind to.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?"

You'd been too caught up with thinking about how he was all yours, and with his cute little backside, that you didn't notice he was so close.

"There you go. Love you, yeah?" You murmur, pressing your nose to the top of his head.

Aemond can barely moan a "cumming–!" before he's finishing all over your front. He slumps right over his own mess in exhaustion, breaths slowing as he relaxes.

He think it's all over, blissed out as he is. He forgot his own promise.

Aemond hums deliriously, "Hm? Oh, love you too."

You flip the two of you over, ready to have your way, as Aemond had before. You hadn't finished yet, after all. He'd understand.

"Wait, daddy–!"

[doodle-pops]

Lords of Gondolin | When You Kabedon Them vs When They Kabedon You

Request: For the house gondolin would you be willing to do a group headcanon for kabedoning their s/o vs getting kabedoned by their s/o? 👉👈 Have a great December!

A/N: Oh anon, I hope this was done to your liking, and what you were expecting. Enjoy!

Synopsis: How the elves react when you corner them compared to when they corner you.

Masterlist | Navigation

.𑁍༊˚ Galdor

Galdor had never really considered himself the sort to be easily flustered. He was a warrior, a leader, someone who had seen battle and withstood its horrors without so much as a tremor. But then, of course, you had to go and press him up against the nearest wall, one hand braced beside his head, your expression positively devious.

He blinked at you as he tried to make sense of what was happening. “Are you trying to intimidate me?” His tone was dubious, a little amused even, but there was the faintest pink creeping up his ears.

The moment you leaned in, his composure wavered. He cleared his throat, but his voice had a rough edge when he spoke again. “This seems unfair. I am entirely unarmed.”

If you stole a kiss, he would recover quickly, cupping your face in his hands and pulling you in for another, deeper one—one that was far more calculated than your spontaneous attempt.

You did, however, manage to fully catch him off guard one evening after training when he was weary and unsuspecting. He had barely unbuckled his sword belt when you cornered him in the hallway. He actually took a step back before realising what you were doing. “...Must you do this while I am defenceless?”

If you ever caught him in a moment of deep contemplation and suddenly kabedon’d him, he would take an obnoxiously long pause before looking at you and saying, “Ah. You have finally lost your senses.”

When Galdor kabedons you:

He is not usually the sort to try and fluster you just for the fun of it, but if you had been provoking him all day, he had no qualms about giving you a taste of your own medicine.

He did not do it gently, nor did he do it lightly. One moment you were standing with him in the corridor, and the next your back was against stone, his arm braced above your head. He leaned down slightly, his voice low. “Let us see how you like it, hm?”

He would be very, very close. Not close enough to kiss you—no, that would be too easy—but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him, could see the sharp amusement in his eyes.

If you tried to lean away, he would follow, not letting you escape quite so easily. His lips would quirk in amusement. “Is this not what you wanted?”

When he did kiss you, it was slow and deliberate, his free hand settling against your hip as if to keep you in place. “I think,” he murmured, “that you rather like this.”

.𑁍༊˚ Ecthelion

Ecthelion was entirely unreadable when you kabedon’d him. He merely arched a brow, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded you with mild amusement.

“An interesting tactic,” he mused, as if you were in the middle of some military strategy discussion. “And what is your next move?”

You were prepared for teasing, for flustering him, but not for the way he subtly leaned into you, just enough that your breath caught. “Do you intend to keep me here all day, or shall we get to the part where you lose your nerve?”

You did not lose your nerve. You kissed him instead, triumphant, only to realise he had caught your wrist in his grasp, his smirk widening slightly. “Predictable,” he murmured, before reversing the situation entirely.

You were the one against the wall before you could even react, and now he was the one looking down at you, all dark eyes and silent laughter. “You will have to do better than that, meleth.”

You once tried to do this after he had been drinking, assuming his reactions would be slower. The plan backfired. Instead of looking surprised, he merely sighed and reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You are determined to test me, aren’t you?”

If you ever did this in front of others, he would react with the same composure, but there would be the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, like he was trying not to smirk. The moment you were alone, he would absolutely pay you back for it.

When Ecthelion kabedons you:

It was always precise, calculated. He never wasted movement. One moment you were standing comfortably, and the next his arm was caging you in, his gaze sharp with amusement.

“I do wonder,” he murmured, “if you ever consider the consequences of your actions before you enact them.”

The problem with Ecthelion was that he was utterly unreadable. You could not tell if he was teasing or if he genuinely intended to keep you there.

He leaned down, close enough that his nose nearly brushed yours. “You do this often enough. I felt it was only fair to return the favour.”

He always left you thoroughly flustered, if only because he had an uncanny ability to anticipate your every reaction.

.𑁍༊˚ Glorfindel

Glorfindel was not prepared. At all.

One moment, he was talking, all confidence and charm, and the next—bam—your hand was beside his head, your gaze sharp and unwavering.

He blinked at you, utterly confused. “Meleth, are you feeling well?” Unlike Ecthelion, who would lean into the game, or Galdor, who would remain infuriatingly calm, Glorfindel simply did not know how to react.

You had to explain why you were doing it. That only resulted in him grinning at you in a way that made your heart race. “Ah. So this is meant to be intimidating?”

He made it impossible. He leaned against the wall like he was comfortable, like you had not just cornered him. “Oh no,” he said, grinning. “I am at your mercy. Whatever shall I do?”

When you kissed him, he hummed into it, pleased. “I should let you pin me against walls more often.” If you held your ground, he would try very hard to keep his composure, but the faint pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

Once, you caught him off guard—he had been mid-sentence when you abruptly pressed him against the wall. He actually stammered for a moment before laughing. “Alright, alright. That was well played.”

When Glorfindel kabedons you:

Oh, you were in trouble.

Glorfindel did not hesitate. The moment he decided to turn the tables, he moved—quick, effortless, and before you knew it, you were against the wall, his body caging you in.

He never did it seriously. It was always playful, always teasing. One arm braced above your head, his other hand catching your chin. “I wonder,” he murmured, “if this is how you feel when you do it to me.”

He made everything ten times worse by smiling through it, utterly delighted by your reaction.

“You look rather lovely when you are trying not to blush.”

If you tried to escape, he would just chuckle and lean in further, trapping you even more effectively. “No, no. I worked hard for this. Let me have my moment.”

The worst part? He would always kiss you after, slow and deep, as if he had won whatever game you were playing.

.𑁍༊˚ Egalmoth

Egalmoth was far too confident for his own good, so when you kabedon’d him, he did not look the least bit intimidated. If anything, his lips quirked in amusement as he tilted his head. “Ah, so this is how we’re playing today?”

He was annoyingly comfortable with it, even bracing one hand over yours as if he were the one trapping you. “How daring. What do you intend to do now?”

The moment you leaned in, he smirked and closed the distance for you, catching your lips before you could even tease him properly.

He was the worst person to try this on because he would never let you win. If you thought you had the upper hand, he would simply turn the tables on you before you even realised it.

You once caught him off guard—truly off guard—while he was reading. He nearly dropped the book, his eyes flicking up to yours with uncharacteristic surprise. That was a victory.

“Is this some new form of strategy?” he mused. “Because if so, I must say, I quite enjoy it.”

If you really wanted to fluster him, you had to get creative. One evening, you cornered him when he had just finished bathing, his hair still damp, his robe loosely tied. That was when he let out a sharp breath and actually hesitated.

When Egalmoth kabedons you:

Oh, he lived for this. You had done it to him once, so naturally, he had to return the favour—dramatically.

It was never just a simple kabedon. No, he had to lean in, let his fingers ghost over your jaw, tilt your chin just so—all while wearing that insufferable smirk.

“Caught you,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement.

If you tried to look away, he would chuckle, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Now, now. You started this game, meleth. Do not falter now.”

He would always steal a kiss at the end of it, just to make sure he walked away victorious.

.𑁍༊˚ Rog

Rog was not easily flustered, but he was a bit too straightforward for these kinds of games. When you kabedon’d him, he just stared at you like you had lost your mind.

“Are you trying to threaten me?” His tone was dubious, but there was an amused spark in his eyes.

You leaned in closer, trying to keep up the act, and that was when you saw his reaction—his hands twitched like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. His ears went slightly pink.

“You are playing a dangerous game,” he muttered, his voice lower than before.

The moment you actually kissed him, he melted into it before realising what had happened. Then, with a scoff, he pulled you into a proper kiss, one that left you breathless. “Next time, you will have to do better than that.”

You tried it once while he was in the middle of explaining battle formations to his men. The reaction was instant. He just stopped, his mouth slightly open, his soldiers staring.

“I—” He blinked down at you, utterly baffled. “...Now?”

If you ever pinned him properly, using all your strength, he would let you, just to humour you. But the moment you got too smug, he would effortlessly reverse it, his grin sharp. “Nice try.”

When Rog kabedons you:

He was fast. One moment you were standing there, and the next your back was against the wall, his arm braced above you, his other hand resting on his hip.

“So,” he drawled, entirely too amused. “How does it feel to be on the other side?”

He did not tease like the others—he was too confident for that. Instead, he just watched your reaction, his sharp gaze taking in every flicker of emotion.

If you blushed, he smirked. If you tried to act unaffected, he would leanin, just close enough to test your resolve.

“You do this too often,” he murmured. “Perhaps I should start returning the favour more.”

He always kissed you at the end, but his were deep, possessive things, leaving you breathless and very aware of how easily he could overwhelm you.

.𑁍༊˚ Maeglin

Maeglin had spent his whole life controlling his emotions, keeping his expressions carefully neutral. But when you kabedon’d him?

He froze. Not visibly, not obviously—but you saw the sharp intake of breath, the slight tension in his jaw.

“What,” he said slowly, “are you doing?”

His voice was too steady, too controlled. You could feel the way his pulse had quickened slightly beneath that carefully crafted mask.

You leaned in, tilting your head, watching for any sign of weakness. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to react but refused to.

“This is—” He cut himself off when your breath ghosted over his skin, his grip tightening. He knew he was losing.

The second you kissed him, his entire frame went tense—but then his hands shot up, gripping your waist with sudden force, pulling you in.

“You like doing this to me, don’t you?” His voice was low, almost a growl.

He let you win for exactly five seconds before flipping the situation entirely. Now you were the one caged against the wall, and he was far too close. “Let us see how you like it.”

When Maeglin kabedons you:

He was silent about it. No teasing, no warning. One moment you were standing, and the next you were trapped.

His hand was braced firmly against the wall, his eyes dark as they flicked over your face, taking in every tiny reaction.

He didn’t need words. He just let the tension sit between you, watching as your confidence wavered.

And then slowly he leaned in.

“You do not look so smug now,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You were the one flustered now, and he relished every second of it.

He would wait before kissing you, just to see you squirm, just to make sure you felt the anticipation. And when he did kiss you? It was deep, slow, utterly consuming.

“You thought this would be a game,” he murmured afterwards, his lips brushing your ear. “You should have known better.”

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[doodle-pops]

I love reactions! How would the elves and valar react to a reader who was a crimologist/detective? They solve the hardest cases of murder, human trafficking, fraud and illegal drugs all over middle earth?

Not gonna lie, the first thing I saw in this asks was human trafficking and I went (⊙_⊙)? but then I read the entire ask and was like cool (⌐■_■) LOL

Proud as hell. Their lover was out here cracking the toughest cases and saving people's lives and being all serious. Getting down and dirty with the big boys. They would idolize you and view you as a hero. One or two might go above and beyond and commission a statue made in your honour so everyone can see how amazing their lover was. YES, they loved you that much. They have asked a few times if they could solve cases with you, wishing to tag along. "Can I come with you? We would be heroes together; I'd be your sidekick or assistant and together we would save people."

EONWË, TILION, TULKAS, ORÖME, CELEGORM, AMROD, AMRAS, FINGON, FINROD, GLORFINDEL, EGALMOTH, ELLADAN

Holds you in the greatest respect ever. You sit among the stars in their eyes for doing greats of surpassing valour. You rescued people from death's clutches and hands of evil (Morgoth). You dedicate your life and place all your effort into ensuring people are safe and secure and out of harm's way. You were some miracle angel in their eyes, a gift from Eru to protect. They would give you an epessë meaning protector or guardian angel. "You're a gift sent to this world by Eru and I pray for your safety every time you go out there to save a life."

MANWË, NÁMO, MAEDHROS, Maglor, Caranthir, CELEBRIMBOR, FINGOLFIN, TURGON, FINARFIN, ECTHELION, ROG, Elrohir, ELROND

[doodle-pops]

Just an idea: What if the elves and their s/o send each other small messages through carrier birds during their busy days (Medieval tweets?), short messages when they're bored, or questions about what to do after getting home? The elves sent a message to their s/o to ask what they wanted to eat back home. Their s/o responds, 'Idk, you?' and due to the paper size, they fold it before letting the bird take their reply to their elf. And since the message is folded, the first thing their elf reads is 'you?' Which of the elves would immediately take it as an invitation for intimidate time and just run to their s/o without even unfolding the rest of the letter? Which of the elves would unfold the letter but still do their s/o after dinner?

Drops everything and runs. doesn’t even bother unfolding, just immediately goes to their s/o…

— Feanor, Celegorm, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gil-Galad

Unfolds it but still makes plans to do their s/o after. takes a second to read but the intention is clear…

— Maedhros, Maglor, Curufin, Argon, Angrod, Aegnor, Thingol

Finishes the day first, but they’re definitely doing their s/o later. still flustered, just more controlled…

— Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Finrod, Turgon, Elrohir, Elladan, Galdor, Rog

Laughs but actually just gets dinner. not because they wouldn’t, but because they enjoy making their s/o wait…

— Finarfin, Ecthelion, Elrond, Gwindor, Erestor

[doodle-pops]

Hi Doodle!

Have you ever heard the expression “He fell first she fell harder” or “She fell first he fell harder” ?

Which elf would the expression fit the best in your opinion? I hope I’m clear enough! 😭

Have a nice day!

“He fell first, she fell harder.”

— Maedhros, Celegorm, Curufin, Fingon, Argon, Finrod, Angrod, Ecthelion, Glorfindel, Maeglin, Gwindor, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir

“She fell first, he fell harder.”

— Feanor, Maglor, Caranthir, Amrod, Amras, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Turgon, Finarfin, Aegnor, Galdor, Egalmoth, Rog, Thingol, Beleg, Gil-galad, Erestor

[doodle-pops]

0h alchemy of souls!! Ahh I can't wait to watch that! I lvoe historical dramas! I'm currently watching Eve with Seo Ye Ji! If you haven’t watched then, could I please get reactions to this idea please?

*beloved elf about to ask Y/N to court them*

Let's pretend it's Finrod... just because hehe🤭😊

Finrod: Y/N...

Y/N: Prince Finrod...

Y/N: No... I mean... Findarato!

Finrod, surprised because it's the first they used his nickname:

Y/N: I...

Finrod:... yes?

Y/N:. I...

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Y/N: I... have to have you

Like they are about to kidnap him or something 😅😅 the new way to confess lol

I've seen so many clips of Eve all over IG but, I still can't get over her performance in It's Okay to Not be Okay.

That doesn't sound like a kidnapping confession. More like hinting at something else.😏😉 haha

Your elves are going to look at you strangely because it didn't sound like a confession, more like you hinting at something else. 'Have to have me...for what? W-What are you really trying to ask me? That's quite bold.' They're probably red and stuttering which confuses you. You only tried to confess...wrongly.

MAEDHROS, Maglor, CARANTHIR, CELEBRIMBOR, Fingolfin, Fingon, TURGON, ARGON, Finarfin, AEGNOR, Glorfindel, Galdor, ECTHELION, Maeglin, ROG

Doesn't understand that you wish to court them and mistakes your bold statement to be a command. 'Do you understand what you are saying to me? Bold of you to act so quickly Y/N and we aren't even not even courting yet.' Might tease you if you catch on and begin apologizing for asking wrongly, or they would act on your words.

FEANOR, CELEGORM, Curufin, Angrod, Egalmoth

[doodle-pops]

How would the elves react to an extremely strong SO? Imagine she holds top weightlifting titles and is super athletic. Even stronger than they are (tho not necessarily faster or more skilled etc). Six pack abs, all that jazz. Superhuman.

I love the idea of their s/o being strong like them or stronger than them. Just being able to pick them up with one hand and carry them like a bag of groceries.

They would love to see you in your element. Screw what society says about how a female physique should be, yours is perfect. Loves to work out with you, not all the time, but sometimes. They'll sit back and watch you do your thing. Always in the front row cheering for you at competitions and if anyone badmouths you, they could catch your lover's hands.

FEANOR, Maedhros, Maglor, Caranthir, Curufin, CELEBRIMBOR, Fingolfin, FINARFIN, Aegnor, Ecthelion, Galdor, ROG

They type to outrightly say 'fight me' as they gaze at your physique. They love to wrestle with you just to see who will be the winner - or so they say. They just want to be pinned under/by you - it's their dream. Also loves to work out alongside you, competitively and is your bigger supporter. Will also throw hands at anyone badmouthing you.

CELEGORM, FINGON, FINROD, ANGROD, GLORFINDEL, EGALMOTH

I just had to

[doodle-pops]

How about a reaction to badass s/o, great fighter, by the way, who gets into deadly combat with creature like an ogre or a balrong and both tumbling off a cliff. All our elven lovelies scream in despair, running to the edge of said cliff, looking frantically down for any sign of them, already starting to mourn, regretting the words and phrases they should have said long ago....only to find out their s/o somehow managed to catch themselves and pull back up. "Well, I'm all ears, honey."

Like any lover, they're shooketh and terrified by types of fight you engage yourself in. But, they're impressed that you come out undefeated. They all think you're phenomenal, I mean not many none fought with Balrogs and survived, but you did.

You'd just dust yourself off like your fight wasn't difficult and smile casually. "Well, that was a blast." Despite being well-skilled, it doesn't stop them from being motherly. They would all love to train with you and learn your fighting techniques so they could survive like you did. Probably believe that you're a God or something.

MAEDHROS, MAGLOR, Caranthir, CELEBRIMBOR, Fingolfin, FINGON, TURGON, FINROD, Angrod, Aegnor, GLORFINDEL, ECTHELION, ROG

They expect nothing short from an amazing s/o like yourself. Smug and in awe. Yea, they'd be wary of the fights you're getting yourself into, but it sure makes them feel proud to have you as their lover. 'You're amazing you know that. We should fight sometime. Teach me a few moves'.

FEANOR, CELEGORM, Curufin, EGALMOTH

Glorfindel and Ecthelion: You should be called the Balrog Slayer

[doodle-pops]

Telling Them They Have 'A Big Nose'

Headcanons: Feanor, Maedhros, Fingolfin, Finrod, Glorfindel

Synopsis: You have to explain the saying "You have a big nose" to them.

Warnings: suggestive, humour

A/N: I know it has two meanings but I decided to go with this explanation.

Feanor

When your words slip past your lips, Feanor’s head would till as he gazed at you with confused eyes.

Were you complimenting him or insulting him? He hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

“Thank you I suppose. Why the strange compliment?”

It was then he watched as your face redden and you began to stutter out some words before hiding your face behind your hands.

He’ll pry your hands away from your face and demand that you explain yourself. From the look on your face, it looked more than a normal compliment and he wanted to know the hidden meaning.

“What do you mean by ‘I have a big nose’ meldanya? Explain yourself.” Leaning into your personal space, your hands would be pried away from your face by his hands. With a reddened face, you would avoid making eye contact with him, too nervous to reveal the sexual innuendo.

“Judging from the look on your face, the meaning is a very interesting one?” Now he was smirking at you with a gleam in his eyes.

Shaking your head and making eye contact with the floor, you mentally cursed yourself for believing that he knew about the phrase. To your greatest fear, he didn’t and now you were stuck between deciding which reason to reveal to him.

“Um – well – uh – it’s not an ordinary meaning.”

“That I gathered – continue.”

Twiddling with your thumbs and making quick eye contact to notice his eyes boring into your soul, you froze, and the words easily slipped past your lips. “It means you have a big…” you lowered your eyes to his crotch and then looked back up to give him the hint, and of course, he picked up.

Giving you a smug smirk, he lifted your chin to look you in the eye as he spoke his next words, “Would you like an exact measurement?”

Maedhros

Chatting with your friends during one of the brunches you were hosting in the gardens, you all were talking about the male anatomy.

When it came to talking about your lover, you were hesitant to say anything since that topic was very private and personal.

What information you knew about Maedhros should stay between you and him, but at the same time, you wanted your friends to know about the good good you were getting almost every night.

So, not wanting to leave them hanging, you simply told them that he has a big nose which spiked quite the reaction from them.

Unbeknownst to you and them, your lover had managed to overhear your conversation and was curious about your statement which made everyone cheer.

“Can…can I ask you a question arimelda? It’s about today.” Sitting on the edge of the bed twiddling with his thumbs, Maedhros appeared as a young ellon.

“Sure”

“Please don’t be mad at me, but I managed to overhear one of your conversations with your friends and couldn’t help but be curious.” The fear was written all across your face as his words came tumbling out. He was nearby eavesdropping…on your conversation.

Swallowing nervously, you simply nodded your head, too afraid to say anything.

“What did you mean by “he has a big nose’? The statement earned you a round of cheers…” Oh, that. Sitting there on the sofa, your book fell out of your hands and plopped onto the floor as you gapped at him. How were you supposed to explain that to him?

“The conversation was very um – graphic – and I thought when it was your turn you would have said something about me, but instead you said that. That must mean something…sexual?”

Busted. Just reveal the truth.

“So – uh – it has like two different meanings,” stopping to laugh your nervousness away, you paused to look at him, “so like you know when we’re intimate, you always like to mention that I can barely…take you.”

“Yes.” Now there was the most evident blush across his face as if he doesn’t comment about how he could barely fit inside you.

“That’s what I mean. You’re well endowed…” You gave him an awkward grin at the end of your statement to show how stressful explaining the meaning was. All the while, he sat there taking in your words and the fact that you revealed to your friends at he was big.

“So, you like my nose right?”

Fingolfin

The both of you were young and still in your early courtship days. So, the most obvious thing to do was ask questions to learn about each other.

It started off being simple questions that resulted in ordinary answers until he asked you what you like most about him.

You knew how uptight the prince was, so even if you threw the phrase out there, he wouldn’t have a single clue about its hidden meaning.

Smirking and biting into your fruits, you looked him deep in his eyes and told him you loved his nose.

What you didn’t expect was for the prince to choke on his tongue and gape at you with visible shock written across his face.

To your surprise, he actually knew what the phrase meant.

“You what?!” Mouth gaping, Fingolfin stared on as though you grew an extra head.

“I said I love your nose.” With the best confidence you could muster, not once did you still suspect the prince knew the hidden meaning. Still baffled by your response, Fingolfin just sat there and stared at you.

Had you any idea what just came out of your mouth? You love his what?

“My dear, have you any idea what you spoke off?” Please tell him that you didn’t or else you might just give him a stroke.

“Why? Do you know?” Still keeping your confidence up, you were enjoying the fluster prince fretting before you.

Looking around to check his surroundings before leaning over the table to whisper. The rising blush on his cheeks didn’t go unmissed by your eyes. “I…do, but do you?”

Wait, did the prince just mention that he understood the reference? So he wasn’t that uptight? Gazing at you and waiting for a response, it didn’t take long for the Fingolfin to put the pieces together and realize that you did.

When he did, he gasped. “You knew, that’s why you said it? You said it very confidently as if you knew. How?”

“Well…your nose is big...” Speechless by your remarks, all Fingolfin could do was just laugh and hope that no one else was around to listen to your lewd conversation.

“…my nose is big you say…”

Finrod

A lost and confused bean who would definitely need you to explain this to him because from start to end he’s going to be lost by the phrase.

He would be returning from one of his expeditions among the human settlements and was excited to share all his new findings.

Making his way quickly to your shared quarters, he’ll barge in and sit himself on the bed, ready to share his newfound knowledge. Since you were human, he decided that you would be the best person to break down his confusion.

Eagerly pulling you to bed and sitting you down, the first thing that flies out his mouth is the question.

“What does it mean to have a big nose? I heard some of the mortals tell a mortal man that his nose was big and then they giggled.”

Well, that was the last thing you would have expected your beloved to come racing home excitedly to tell you. Whatever made him curious about this question was something you also wanted to know? You would have thought that if he heard it, he wouldn’t think anything by it, but it was Finrod – the ever-curious bean.

“What made you curious about this meleth?”

“Well nothing really, since everything you mortals do or say is already so fascinating.” Inching himself closer to your body, he propped himself to sit upright to appear intrigued by your soon response.

“Huh. Well, it’s most definitely a mortal saying for a first. It – uh – means, well it talks about you know…that.”

Squinting his eyes at your response and trying to make sense of what you just told him, he frowned. “No I don’t know, so please tell me.” The innocent sparkle in his eyes was shining too brightly and you felt as though you were about to dimmish it.

“…it’s a sexual saying. We associate having a big nose with having a big…being well endowed Finrod.” By the time you were finished, you could have sworn you were really to die of embarrassment.

“So, having a big nose means you’re well endowed. Does this mean that everyone who has a big nose is well endowed, and if they don’t then they’re small?” Instead of being disgusted by the newfound knowledge, Finrod was fascinated and went off on a series of questions before growing quiet to think.

“Melda…do I have a big nose?”

Glorfindel

I feel like he’s another elf that’s aware of the phrase after hearing the twins talk about it and multiple visits to mortal settlements.

But mainly the twins would be the reason why he’s aware of the phrase, but sadly, he wouldn’t understand the usage and meaning.

So our lovely Glorfindel has told people who have big noses that they have big noses to their face with a cheery grin.

He has even told Lord Elrond to his face that he had a big nose but not as big as him.

That was what made you spat out your drink and sit the poor confused baby down to explain everything.

“Glorfindel, you can’t just go around telling people that their nose is big, that’s not right.” Confusion had spread across his face because he always considered it a compliment, which was a great thing.

“What do you mean I can’t tell people that their nose is big? It’s a compliment.”

“Yes, but not for what you think it to be.” Nodding your head for him to grasp the seriousness of the situation, he soon began to nod his head along with yours. Sitting beside you, he held your hands firmly in his and questioned you on the true meaning.

“Then what does it mean? I’ve heard the twins using it before and it didn’t sound bad.” Of course the twins. Anything that came from them was either bad or troublesome.

Sighing and hanging your head at how gullible the golden-haired Lord were, you were forced to explain the cruel truth. “Glorfindel, having a big nose means that the person is…they have a very big,” pointing your hands to his neither regions, you watched as his eyes widened.

“Meleth, I’ve been telling people they were well endowed! I even told Lord Elrond that!” Pretending to faint because of the dramatic person he was, he threw his hands over his face and sobbed.

“Yes you did, and you told him that he wasn't as big as you. Though I find his nose to be a lot bigger...” Hearing your words, Glorfindel stopped his antics and peeped at you from under his lashes. Lord Elrond was what than him?

“Meleth, did you just say that he was bigger than me? My nose is a lot bigger than him, and I can prove it.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @spidergirla5 @whenloveexists @welcometomordor

[doodle-pops]

Ooo yeah, reactions are back! I love reading your analysis and stories! So beautifully written! Can I ask, what would the elves' reactions be to their s/o body worshipping them? Because we know they deserve it 😌 😏 😉

They all deserve to be smothered in so good loving😏 just push them down and worship them like no tmro.

A bit baffled because its always the other way around. Their brain is slowly working it's way around as you push them down on the bed, already undressing and kissing their body. They want to stop you, their hands are twitching but the pleasure spirals them into endless moans as their hands drop to grip the sheets. Thankful that you're spoiling them, they never thought about being the receiving end with such dedication, "I'm overly thankful for that session my love. Didn't know I needed it, but most grateful." Followed by the request to return the favour.

- Maglor, CARANTHIR, Fingolfin, FINGON, TURGON, FINROD, GLORFINDEL, Elrond, Elrohir

The moment you push them down to worship, they're already settling in the sheets with a content smile upon their faces. It's not that they believe they're deserving of it but more, it's nice to have the tables turned for once. They love the idea of switching up the roles when I comes to pleasure, thus, they'll sit back and let you do hour stuff. With heart eyes. Gentle guidance and where to pleasure them as you roam your hands and lips across their body. "You're so eager to please your lover sweetheart, I appreciate it. We should do this more often."

- FEANOR, CELEGORM, CURUFIN, ECTHELION, EGALMOTH, ANGROD, MAEGLIN

These guys are more hesitant since they are naturally accustomed to worshipping you and never thought about having the table turned. Thus, they aren't too keen on you pleasuring them. But you got to push them down like you life depended on it make it clear "I want to return the favour because you more than deserve it, so be quiet and let me love you." That is going to shut them up. They might probably complain but not in the 'you're not doing it right' but more 'you really don't have to do this, I'm fine'. Shut them up with a blowjob and watch them secretly expect for more.

- MAEDHROS, CELEBRIMBOR, FINARFIN, GALDOR, ROG, Aegnor

[doodle-pops]

!!!!!!! Reactions still open?? 🫢❤️ *Screams*

How would elves (or valar, you choose!) react to a s/o who CANT keep their hands to themselves? Not in a sexual manner, but they keep hugging, holding or kissing them? :') even in their sleep! 🫢🤭

i love how u answer these asks ❤️❤️❤️

I have a 'sleeping with them' reaction coming out tomorrow!! coincide i think not

This is for all the touchy and affectionate elves. Whatever Tolkien said about elves and affection doesn't exist here. Shoo (ง •_•)ง

Oh, they love to bask in your affection, whether it be a hug, a kiss, a cuddle, or even a brush off your hands through their hair. They live for it. If you asked them what they live for, they'll respond with, "To be loved by Y/N." before getting up to go find you. Every day they look forward to receiving millions of sneaky affectionate gestures from you, but your kisses are the best. They turn into a puddle. Their knees go weak and they visibly shrink into a love-sick puppies wagging their tail. "One more, please...right here, and here, over here. Okay, now a hug...one more but longer."

MANWË, EONWË, IRMO, Maglor, CELEGORM, Celebrimbor, FINGON, Finarfin, FINROD, AEGNOR, GLOFINDEL, GALDOR, EGALMOTH, Rog, ELLADAN

They would ask you if everything was okay because you were always touching them. It's not annoying, just a bit alarming because they had no idea about your impulsive urges to smother them in love and affection. Please, randomly jump on them and listen to the squeak and squeal they would release as you take them off guard. Just passing by and giving them little slaps to their butts, watch as they fumble and drop whatever it is they were doing, "Hey, come back here. You can't just walk away without any payback." It more has to do with where you give the affection, so behind closed doors when it's naptime, roll on them, throw a few hands and feet, and they wouldn't mind.

FEANOR, MAEDHROS, Caranthir, Curufin, Turgon, MAEGLIN, Ecthelion, ELROHIR, Elrond