Request: Hi! I’m so happy you opened the request again!☺️ I wanted to ask if you could do the “When you fake an orgasm” with the Feanorians, the one for the Ainur was amazing!! Thank you and have a great day💖
A/N: I didn’t include the twins in this because I was unable to write smut for them. I don’t know why, but I can never envision smut for them, it doesn’t click for me. Sorry, but I also hope you enjoy it!
Warnings: smut, fem!reader, rough sex, spanking, fingering, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, oral sex (male and female receiving), manhandling, restraints, dirty talking, pet names (kitten, little one, bunny, good girl, princess), punishment, reader being mocked
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Feanor — I don’t know if I should clap you on the back and say, “Great job for challenging a man like him,” or be concerned that you chose to challenge a prideful man like him. Because baby, he’s not letting that slide on his pride. Verdict? Punished
He sensed it, the minute you tossed your head into the pillows and released the most ear-aching groan you attempted to have sound believable, he stopped. There was no shouting, no groaning or fuming like he usually did—he simply pulled out with a loud slick, the look of pure dissatisfaction on his face, and climbed off the bed to stand at the foot. There was a sharp gleam in his eyes the longer he looked at you, contemplating what punishment to dish out—so many options, a lot of time to execute them all, which one came first. He chose to say nothing, instead grabbing you by your calves and dragging you to the foot of the bed.
Before you could properly react, he snatched you by the arm and spun you around, planting your face into the mattress with a hand gripping the back of your neck to firmly keep you rooted. A high-pitched squeal left your throat, but it wasn’t from the sudden roughness of his actions, it was from the loud crack of a hand across your ass, followed by the immediate dragging of his fingers through your folds to harshly rub your clit. “Feels good doesn’t it? So good you could cum all over my fingers right now,” he muttered in your ear, pressing more weight against your sweet spot once he found it, causing a string of gibberish to leave your lips. “Then why don’t you cum right now. Fake another one if you dare.”
“F-Fea…nor—shit—was just a—ngh—joke,” you cried out as you wiggled your hips against the thrusting of his thick and calloused fingers.
“A joke,” he gasped lightly with humour in his tone before continuing, “then I too should give you one as well.” Then, he withdrew his fingers an inch away, listening to you crying out from the loss of pleasure. “Let me give you the best joke in the history of the Noldor—so good, that you’ll remember it forever and even learn a lesson from it.”
Maedhros — what can I say. Best rough fuck of your life? This man had his own sense of humour, and he was about to display how funny he could be during a crucial act since you wanted to play games.
The moment your lips parted to gasp, fingers digging into his biceps and legs tightening around his waist, he smirked. The hands on your waist slid downwards to grip your thighs and curl them into your chest, flush against your breasts while pressing his weight upon you, essentially pinning you beneath him. The new position had his heavy cock pressed deeper within your walls; you were scrambling to find purchase along his sweaty back. “Nggh, fuck—too deep, Mae,” you whined with a pout, brows furrowing and lip biting as he doubled the pace, making the bedframe shake.
“Hmm, I’m as deep as I should be,” he purred against your lips while one hand from your thigh reached up to grip your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact. He chose to roll his hips, his flared tip rubbing against your sweet post, prompting your eyes and walls to flutter as you genuinely came around his cock, a warm gush of your juices coating his length. “That’s more like it. That’s how you should look when you’re about to cum all over my cock,” he grinned and pecked your lips swiftly. “All fucked out, not that phoney performance.”
“M-Mae…please, ’s too much.”
“Uh-Uh.” He was having fun with this, giving your face a small shake while his grip on your jaw tightened. You could feel him deep in your stomach—getting deeper—and the loud squelching sounds of your cunt gushing around his length telling you that he didn’t plan on stopping. “I’m having just as much fun as you faking your orgasm, melda. Why should I stop when all you have to do is lie there and take my cock?” he whispered cynically with a wicked grin. “Or do you want to fake another orgasm again?”
You shook your head, struggling to keep up as another orgasm was approaching after he fucked you through the recent one.
“Good,” he hummed and lifted his body slightly off you, releasing your chin. “Now be a good girl and cum for me again.”
Maglor — the gentle poet isn’t always as gentle as everyone considers him to be, you know? Kano has his tricks up his sleeves, and one of them is ensuring that you’re not leaving this bed unsatisfied, no matter what it takes.
He didn’t even wait for you to finish before he came to a complete halt, staring at you with all the restraint and disbelief. And then, ever so slowly, he broke into a smile—a cunning, wicked smile. “My, my, my, princess. You didn’t tell me that we were performing. Had I known—” he growled and suddenly pulled out to flip you onto your knees, pushing your face into the pillows and sinking your back into a beautiful arch. “—I would have put on an equally, captivating performance as well.”
Whimpering, your excuses falling short when you felt his fingers trail down your spine to dip between your folds, spreading your wetness around to rub lazily circles around your clit. “I hope you know how great of an improviser I am—one of the best. So, I hope you can keep up. It would be a shame—a real shame if you were unable to…” That was all Maglor needed to do to have you falling apart under his touch. Those skilled fingers, working you to the brink and bringing you back down, edging you as if he was playing his harp and plucking strings of cries with each pinch or flick.
His other hand rested at the centre of your back, applying just enough pressure to warn you of his warrior’s strength underneath while his fingers ran through your fold, circling your clit and then down to your entrance, doing everything but sinking inside. The needy whines you released only fuelled him to continue his ministrations as you begged him.
“Kano, quit playing—please, put it in,” you groaned, voice muffled as you pushed your face into the pillow to swallow your needy cries which he revelled in.
“Kano quit playing,” he mocked, laughing at the end as he pulled his fingers away to give your ass a solid smack, jolting you forward. “How demanding? What are you, a star actress who can’t play her part correctly?” In an instant, just as the response was at the tip of your tongue, his cock plunged into your cunt and immediately started moving without an inch of reprieve. “Why don’t you leave the improvising to me, sweetheart, and just do what you’re supposed to. Cum for me when I fuck you.”
Celegorm — gosh, you’re giving his man a game. A thrill. A chase. He’s a hunter—this is the type of game he’s into. Make him work for his prize, and you, my dear, were so kind to delectably present him with the best challenge ever. One neither of you would ever forget.
Coming down from your so-called orgasm, had you trembling in Tyelko’s hold. Ankles locked around his neck, nails curling into his meaty biceps and jaw slackened as you mimicked the expression of ecstasy, but that was never enough to fool the hunter. For in an instant, he leaned into you further, pressing more of his weight against you, squeezing your thighs against your chest, caging you in like some prey with those gleaming, green eyes. “Little bunny wants to make me work to earn an orgasm from her, huh? Acting as though I wouldn’t know what this pussy feels like around my cock,” he taunted with a sickeningly, sinful laugh.
“T-Tyelko, don’t—” Your attempted words were immediately cut off by an abrupt tumble as he rolled over to place you on top, adjusting your legs to straddle his hips, yet pulling you down, chest to chest.
“Shh, kitten. You don’t need to speak—you’ve told me enough.” His cock still buried deep within, started moving sluggishly at first—just for a few strokes to get you relaxed—while he gingerly took both your wrist and bound them with one hand behind your back. As slowly as he moved, it was enough to make your stomach flip. And like the predator he was, his feet planted into the mattress and instantly thrust upwards with much more force jerking you forward, save for the strong arms around your waist.
A loud crack of his hand followed against your ass, groping the flesh before sending another, matching the intensity of his thrust. “Just like that—feels so good doesn’t it? Nice and deep enough to fake another?” he growled, increasing his tempo for the sound of sweaty skin clapping against each other to ripple around the room.
“T-Tyel–…ko—fuck! ’m s-sorry…slow down—ah!” Sputtering his favourite chorus of gibberish, he merely grinned and sunk himself deeper into your cunt, purposefully rubbing his cock head against your sweet spot which had your nails digging into your palms and more juices dripping down his cock.
“Not at all kitten. I’m right where I need to be,” he purred and cracked another hand across your ass. “Chasing as many orgasms I can get all night long.”
Caranthir — he doesn’t do anything half-assed, so why would you make him feel like he wasn’t performing up to standards, huh? Don’t you think that you’re about to be reminded to never test his skills?
A hand pinning the back of your neck to the polished desk while the other torturously dragged its fingers through your dripping cunt—if you thought Moryo was about to let it slide with a fickle excuse of ‘I was just tired,’ you were fooling yourself. He didn’t appreciate the gesture and was fixated on ensuring that you never thought about attempting your foolish jest ever again. And judging from how his fingers glided so smoothly through your cunt, your juices coating his palm and wrists, and the obscenely loud echoes of your thirsty walls sucking him back in, he was making a point. All of this when it was your umpteenth orgasm for the night, and he wasn’t letting up. No amount of, ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘Please don’t tease me,’ or ‘It was just a joke,’ could reduce the number of times you’ve cum all over him.
“Have you learnt your lesson yet, melda?” he questioned with such authority, yet a distinctive quietness in his tone. His question was followed up by a sudden contracting off your walls, spasming around his fingers as they remained still and pressing against your sweet spot. Within seconds, another gush of your arousal oozed out, making his rings and bracelets glisten under the lamps. “Hm, not yet it would appear.”
“Moryo—”
“Silence. You had your chance to answer and missed the opportunity. It is clear to me that you still crave more, so I shall give you more. Enough that you will not attempt such foolishness again.” There was a faint smirk in his tone as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the centre of your back, the same time his fingers regained their pace and continued to fuck you through your orgasm, into the next one. The tremble of your legs as shivered with oversensitivity made him laugh airily, not slowly or increasing his pace, keeping you right there, and giving you want you clearly desired from the start. “You’re doing so well, darling.”
Curufin — nothing misses his eyes. Nothing misses his focus, and you thought it would be a brilliant idea to test the man who was cunning, perspective and undoubtedly harsh when it came to dishing out punishment? Good luck.
“Open—wider.” Just as swiftly as the command came, your mouth was filled with the sliding of his thick cock between your lips to rest heavily against your tongue. He wanted to silence those nasally cries you emitted earlier, calling it the regular sounds you made when you orgasmed, and listen to you gurgling on his cock, rethinking your options. “Just like that. You sound much better.”
All you could do was look up at him through your teary lashes while he tossed his head back, hands tightening in your hair as he held you still. He didn’t move too slow or too quickly, just at the right pace to satisfy him and leave you clenching around nothing in anticipation. A soft, muffled whine escaped your throat when he pulled back, leaving his tip to rest against your lips, causing him to finally open his eyes and look down at you—with disappointment. “What’s wrong? Finally ready to apologise so I can make you cum for your ridiculous stunt?”
You nodded, pouting up at him with your teary eyes, knowing the effect it always had on him. “I’m sorry…won’t do it again.”
Instead, he scoffed. You were so shameless. Fake your orgasm and then had the audacity to be wet while he fucked your throat, wanting his cock to quench your heat. If anything, it made him more irritable. “I’m not so sure that you are sorry,” he corrected, biting his lower lip. “You just want me to stuff you with my cock like the needy little thing you are.”
“You can do whatever you want,” you pleaded. “I just want to cum.”
Rolling his eyes as he tapped his cock head against your lips, signalling you to open up, he pushed into the warmth of your mouth again, exhaling deeply at the welcoming of your heat and wetness. “I am doing whatever I want, darling. And that’s making sure you don’t cum like you wanted from the start.”
Celebrimbor — okay, why would you even try this stunt on this pookie wookie? He’s trying his best to bring you the best pleasure you ever had in your life with passionate precision and you of all things to do…fake your orgasm. Go stand outside in the rain, for making him feel like his performance wasn’t good enough,
His hips stuttered the minute you started vibrating and clinging to him, giving him a world-altering performance of you orgasming. There was a look of sadness washing over you as he continued to observe your shaking figure under him—you were so caught up in acting to notice that he had stopped and slackened his hold on your hips, slightly sitting on his hunches. The way his brain was calculating what to do in the face of such an event he never thought would occur to him. Then, he recalled—a conversation between two of his Lords he overheard speaking about their wives pulling this same stunt.
So, it was a thing. Just you attempting to trick him. He was still saddened deep down, but with a fervour.
Gingerly, he pulled his cock out and shuffled off the bed, noticing how you watched him with curious eyes. “Where are going? You haven’t finished?” you worried, sitting upright and frowning as he slipped back into his trousers, keeping it loose around his waist.
He said nothing as he reached into the drawers for a pair of handcuffs, designed just for you. A little something he was working on for a while to surprise you with, and what a joyous occasion it was for him to introduce them to you because, in mere minutes, your hands were cuffed to the headboard and left sobbing—begging for release, overstimulated. Tyelpë’s mouth worked so fervently against your pussy, giving you all the orgasms in the world so you would never test his abilities again.
A languid drag of his tongue against your clit, followed but a sharp suck had your toes curling, yet, unable to move from the iron grip that held them apart. You were beyond sensitive, unsure if he could milk another orgasm from your thoroughly wracked body.
“Hmm, do you think you can give me one more?” he peered up at you through those gorgeous emerald eyes. How could you say ‘no’ even when this was punishment? And yet you found yourself nodding slowly. “Lovely, let us see if this would be the one to remind you to never try that trick again.”
(Author's note: I saw this scene on YouTube, where a man’s son-in-law was nearly stabbed, and the man got mad at the culprit because the culprit killed the man’s daughter in the same way. And I was thinking about how this would go with the main Finweans. )
Warnings: Reader's partner (and the Finwean's child) is dead in this AU, murder, grief, angst, attempted murder, revenge, family dynamics, questionable coping mechanisms, and the Finweans throwing hands.
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Feanor
- This guy wouldn’t probably show that he’s grieving, and try to act strong. Would seek revenge on his son’s murderer, though.
-I kinda see this guy having a protective streak over his sons. So, he probably wouldn’t be the easiest father-in-law to have. He likely would have doubted your feelings for his son and thought you were only in it for the titles and wealth. Therefore, getting his approval would not be easy.
-Banters and arguments would be common if you two didn’t get along. If you knew how to stand your ground and had good wits, that would probably be the only thing he would respect about you.
-It would change when his son ends up murdered.
-He would not be good at showing comfort. However, he would become less of an asshole when he sees how devastated you were by the loss. That would likely be the moment when he sees that you had been genuine in your feelings for his son.
-The loss would probably make your relationship with each other a bit better. Feanor would not judge you for grieving, but would try to ensure you won’t entirely fall into the gutter and get your act together.
-This includes making sure you eat, giving you something to do to keep your mind distracted, or pushing you toward living if the tragedy caused you to have depressive thoughts.
-So, practical support.
-The only other best form of therapy he could offer is letting you destroy some items inside a closed room to release your anger and grief.
-If you wanted to seek revenge or find out his son's murderer, Feanor would allow it. He would already be investigating the murder himself. He would not hesitate to pull some strings if this happened in Aman and if the Valar failed to act effectively on the case.
-If this happened in Middle-earth (Let’s pretend he survived). He would have no problem with letting you tag along in finding his son's killer and giving you a chance at having your revenge.
-If you didn’t want to seek revenge, he would probably voice your grieving as showing weakness, which you then snap at and remind him that he’s not the only one suffering. That would make him quiet and not force you into it.
-Now, if you nearly got killed by the culprit. Oh boy. Feanor would not hesitate to take his sword and kill that person, especially Middle-earth Feanor. Even if you two didn’t like each other much, he would not hesitate to commit murder. You were dear to his son, so that’s enough of a reason.
-The culprit would be dead at his hands. He would never grant forgiveness toward those who wronged his family.
-And perhaps by the end of it, Feanor would accept that you became a permanent presence in his family. Especially, Middle-earth Feanor would see you as the last thing left of his son, as he possibly won't be able to see his child until he's dead or until Arda meets its end.
Fingolfin
- Another elf, who would hide his grief. He would try to act strong and be a comforting presence for others when the tragedy struck.
-I kinda see him more open-minded than Feanor when it comes to his children introducing their partners to him. He is protective of them, so he might first observe you sharply to see if you were harboring any secret intentions. Once he is sure that you weren't using his child, he becomes more welcoming.
-I do see him as a bit old-fashioned, so the only thing that might affect his opinion on you is your background. Like if you were noble, he would be more approving, but if you were a commoner, he would give his opinion, but he wouldn't sabotage your relationship.
-He does care for his children's happiness, but there are perks to a beneficial marriage.
-But when the murder happens, he would be devastated, but give you comfort when you heard the news. At that point, your background or past banters did not matter to him. He would let you cry in his embrace when the reality that the love of your life was dead settled in.
-Middle-earth Fingolfin would especially understand the grief of losing family or someone dear.
-He would let you grieve. He would also try to ensure the grief didn't consume you and help you through it.
-He would seek justice as lawfully as possible and probably not encourage seeking revenge. Remembering what happened with Feanor.
-The loss would help you two be closer, and Fingolfin would accept you as part of the family. If your lover had been Fingon, Fingolfin would be especially protective of you, since most of his children were only Eru knows were in Middle-earth. So, you're the only child he could look out for.
-He probably tries to practice forgiveness, but if you ended up being attacked by the same person who took his child, that would be the first time he would lose his cool.
-And he does not even take out his blade, he would just walk up to the culprit and swing his fist so damn hard that the person flew a few meters before hitting the ground. A punch that could have sent Feanor to Mandos if Fingolfin had been given a chance to.
-There is a high chance the culprit died after the punch. If not, their face would be permanently disfigured. Fingolfin is a warrior king. He can pack a punch.
-Even if he is a bit calmer-headed than Feanor, he does not hesitate to raise his hands when it comes to his children, including his in-law children.
Finarfin
-Probably the most open-minded father-in-law to have. The only thing he would care about is whether his children's partners genuinely cared about them. But if there aren’t issues and your feelings for his child are true, then he would have no other issues with you. He wouldn't even mind your background. As the youngest son in Finwe's family, he can afford not to care about whether you were a noble or a commoner.
-You probably already became part of the family the moment you got introduced to them.
-When the murder happens, he would let you cry in his arms and mourn with you. He is perhaps the only brother among the Finweans who wouldn't try to hide his grief over the tragedy.
-He would offer the best support and therapy out of all three, helping you through the grief and making sure you got back on your feet, especially if you didn't have any other family to support you.
-He would seek justice as legally as possible, not wanting to resort to revenge or violence.
-He would gently discourage you from it, encouraging you to have faith in justice. With his gentle presence, even if you wanted revenge, you would be talked out of it.
-When the culprit was found, if there was a plausible reason and the culprit showed genuine remorse, Finarfin would possibly grant forgiveness for his child’s death.
-However, when he finds out that you nearly became the next victim, he would switch pretty fast. The Noldorian blood in his veins would boil, and for the first time in his life, Finarfin would try to throw hands with someone.
-He may be able to forgive his child’s death, but trying to kill another of his children? Absolutely not.
-Since this likely happened in Valinor, he would get stopped before he could lay a hand on the culprit. But he would spew some really angry words.
-Even if he couldn’t get violent, as a High King of the Noldor in Aman, he would pull some strings to ensure the culprit could never legally recover after their sentence.
-Then he would watch over you as you recovered from your injuries from the attack. He would ensure you got the best treatment and healed with minimal scarring.
-Even way before these events, you already got a father out of him.
-Just because he's more gentle-natured than his two older brothers, it doesn't mean he wouldn’t throw hands for people he considers family.
AN: This gif has nothing to do with the fic, I just really like this scene. Also pickleball is my newest obsession. I am half dead with sleep, please ignore the errors.
Glorfindel: It's basically a commercial for local sports. He looks glorious dramatically running around the court, laughing as he hits a perfect shot. His luscious locks fan around him as he moves. Passersby are glued to the spot as he prances around with the paddle. Word of wisdom: wear shades near him.
Maedhros: You're both equally bad at doubles. Fingon and his wife have tried teaching you both more than once, but those games are spent with you and Maedhros crashing into each other constantly. As a favor for putting up with you both, Maedhros foots the bill for the brunch you four grab after matches.
Caranthir: You have to drag him to the court every time. Get him some vitamin D and fresh air. He whines and bemoans the loss of his comfortable nooks, but once he's outside? He actually enjoys it. Will he complain the entire time? Absolutely. Annoyingly, he gets good at it way faster than you do. That doesn't stop the resistance he puts up every single time.
Celegorm: He genuinely enjoys pickleball. He loves being outside, so when you find a sport you like, he's in. He's cocky about it too. Rules? Points? Who needs those? In his books, whoever hits the ball to the other side is winning. He's smashing shots, skidding across the court, booing every time he loses. He's in his element. But here's the secret, he'll let you win (mostly) because he actually likes playing with you. He's not about to risk you rage quitting.
Thranduil: He judges you for going to play without him. Then he announces a whole ass tournament for Greenwood the Great. Makes it doubles so you have to beg him to join. He agrees after displaying immense smugness about being your partner. He'll glare the opponents away and win that tournament. Fair and square can go drown.
Nerdanel (xoxoxo❤️❤️😘😘💋💋🫦🫦🥺🥺 🧎♀️🧎♀️): She joins you. With her glorious arms. Ones that might have inspired Michelangelo's ladies in the Sistine Chapel. You've not hit a single shot. You almost forget to swing, lost instead in her laughter, her curls fighting against their braids, her hands gripping the paddle. You gulp. And if you bend down to pick up the ball more than necessary, well, that's no one's business.
Feanor: He is, as always, INTENSE. You both don't even talk while playing. He has epic battle music playing in his earphones. He's already challenged half of Valinor and placed wagers, sworn oaths. He will train you. Drill you into proper stretches, warming up with laps. This is way more than just a game.
Thingol: Elu Thingol does not dabble in pickleball. He and his court are basketball only. He's got a sick dribble and is the star player of Doriath, much to everyone's dismay. Anyone below 5'8" is banned from court after that pretty graphic squashing incident.
Mini Headcanons for Squishing their Cheeks Elves Addition + One Maia
Tags: Dramatic kisses, Squishing faces, crack?
Author's note: I already stated in my cod part of this but random nonsense is todays order lol.
Squishing and kissing Glorfindel’s cheeks.
would do the same to you. Squish your cheeks and return your kisses. The affection makes Erestor sick lol
Squishing and kissing Lindir’s cheeks
equals red tomato. He is embarrassed but loves it. Prays Elrond isn't around and that Erestor doesn't hear of it. Eventually he does grab a hold of your hands and kisses them.
Squishing and kissing Feanor’s cheeks
would equal in Dot. Dot. Dot. Blink. Would let it happen for like five seconds if it's in his office but if you try that with him in the forges your affections will get rejected a bit rudely. But don't take it to heart the forge it his main love lol
Squishing and kissing Celebrimbor’s cheeks
Would include baby melting into your touch. Giving you his best doe eyes + heart eyes while listening to your giggles. If it's in the forge he drops everything and freezes before he gets a hold of himself. Though his first reaction is freak out and get you away from what he’s working on. Because it's hot and potentially dangerous. But after that he kisses you with the passion only a feanorian can have.
Squishing and kissing Fingon’s cheeks
he pouts cutely and after getting his lips kissed he’d grin and move to tickle your sides.
Squishing and Kissing Eönwë cheeks
You curl your finger and gesture for the tall maia to bend down to your height. Curious he raises a brow and accommodates you. Is shocked and surprised when you squish his cheeks and begin kissing him so dramatically. He flushes red embarrassed. Might even spot a judgemental Mairon peaking over his shoulder. “My love please.” Despite his 'disapproval' he lets you do what you want. His wings melting into the floor while listening to your happy giggles.
Squishing and Kissing Finrod's Cheeks
you tug on his hair and give him a good deep kiss to entice him closer before squishing and kissing his cheeks with vigor. He laughs and squeezes your hips and lifts you into his arms to set you on his shoulder. Showing off his strength and then it's his turn to laugh as you go bright red in the face.
Overall most of them can do without their faces getting squished lol.
Shameless and criminal (Feanor x Reader Silmarillion fic)
Contains: Nerdanel breaks up with Feanor, Fem!Reader, reader is kind of shameless kind of shy, reader doesn't have a lot of experience kissing, Feanor being an asshole, tw: forced kissing, argument, ended marriage, kissing, Feanor gets away with it kind of, hurt/comfort, fluff
Feanor and his sons were returning to the city of Tirion.
Oh, how they were welcomed! The wisest men approached them, curious to hear about their travels. The most talented musicians plucked their harps, drowning the street in a chorus of elevating melodies. The crowd of elves parted, as the Feanorian men rode their horses through the square.
You had come to see him, but you did not expect him to pay you much attention. He had not accepted you, despite the fact that Nerdanel had recommended you to him.
Feanor, the oldest son of Finwë and a master craftsman, seemed to glow faintly as he carried himself on top of his horse. His sons rode their horses next to him. A magnificent sight.
They seemed to have slowed down to walking speed, allowing elves to come to meet them.
The air around Feanor seemed more mighty and unapproachable compared to his sons. He talked only to a few elves. He seemed to judge people quickly, falling silent as if to punish the foolish soul for wasting his time. His powerful and cold demeanor seemed occasionally come to life as he kept captivating the crowd with his charisma. An occasional witty and merciless laugh escaped him, startling the people around him.
Nerdanel had ended her relationship with Feanor a few months ago. It had come as a shock to you. Of course because you had not expected the marriage to end after Nerdanel had birthed seven children to Feanor. However the news had startled you also because you had suddenly needed to decide if you wanted to tell Nerdanel that you fancied her husband. She was your very wise and very powerful friend after all.
Feanor had experienced a shock too, despite the way he had carried himself in an unshakable fashion. Nerdanel had known this. She had also known that you liked Feanor. So she had recommended you to Feanor. She had told him that you could be his new companion. His new mate.
Feanor had refused. He had called the idea ridiculous.
Nerdanel had insisted and left it at that. She had encouraged you to do sweet things for Feanor. She had seemingly decided that life was not worth living if you could not make a fool of yourself once in a while. She had followed her own advice and slept with multiple new suitors after ending things with Feanor.
Feanor had not been happy about that. And he had not been happy about you coming to him with gifts either.
"I'm afraid I don't need any scented soap as a gift, especially not ones that are offered with secret intentions", Feanor had said, not hiding the fact that you were bothering him.
"Am I bothering you, my lord?" you had asked.
"Yes." The answer had been swift.
"Why? I'm not asking you to kiss me, even though that would be nice if you want to", you had said with a hopeful look in your eyes.
"Are you genuinely asking me to kiss a woman who works at a bath house? I bet you are not even educated", Feanor had said while looking irritated, ending the argument there.
You had approached Nerdanel afterwards, complaning about the way she had encouraged you to go to Feanor only to be insulted by him.
"He said that I'm not worthy of him. Why would he want to kiss someone who is less educated than him?" you had said.
"I'm gonna talk to him about that. You are good as you are. He's coming up with excuses. He didn't say anything about your education when I first told him about your feelings", Nerdanel had said.
"Really? Then what was the reason he refused me?" you had asked, feeling both foolish to ask this kind of question and suddenly honestly intent on knowing the answer.
"Nothing. He just said that it was ridiculous", Nerdanel answered apologetically.
You had had your eye on Feanor for a long time. It was a childish crush. But after you had become friends with Nerdanel, you had treated your crush like a fantasy. Something nice to imagine, that would stay in your imagination. You had imagined giving Feanor gifts, making him laugh, kissing him. Having the attention of a powerful man on you. It had been your own little secret.
Now it wasn't a secret anymore. Feanor knew about your crush, so you had already made a fool of yourself. You decided to try to make him happy and give him more gifts.
That's how you ended up approaching him as he returned to Tirion on horseback with his sons.
When you saw the crowd surround Feanor and his horse, you started walking towards him with a goblet of wine in your hands. It was terrifyingly easy to make your way towards him and you were starting to second-guess yourself.
This was a public situation. You shifted the goblet in your hands uncomfortably. You felt exposed.
You knew that you were intruding. What were you thinking, approaching Feanor in front of his sons? You were too young for him.
You wore an uncomfortable expression, a twisted mask of embarrassment, as you walked through the crowd. It was not a cute and shy look. It was a frozen smile on your face, an embarrassing and almost apologetic look. But despite everything, it was soft. And you held your head high.
Feanor noticed you despite appearing distracted. A caring face, twisted with embarrassment, approaching him with a gift. Feanor turned to look away, dreading this interaction. But somewhere inside his heart he felt a sensation of warmth.
You stopped in front of his horse and lifted the goblet, ready to hand it to him.
You could hear a couple of his sons whispering to each other.
You stood there, scared and begging in your mind for Feanor to take the goblet.
And finally he did. You felt him grab the goblet and you looked briefly at him. He did not meet your eyes, turning away from you. You turned quickly away, escaping through the crowd.
Feanor's expression was dark, but he drank from the goblet all the same.
---
One day out Feanor approached you out of the blue.
You were seated at a small table that was located in front of a beautiful bath house where you usually worked. The building looked almost like a temple. The elves who took care of the bath house offered a cup of tea to everyone who took a bath in their beautiful pools of water. That's how you had ended up sipping tea from a cup while wearing a bathrobe and chatting with your friend who was wearing the same attire and sitting in front of you across the table.
One moment you were relaxing pleasantly, next you were being judged by the mighty Feanor who was towering over you in all of his glory.
"Good afternoon, (Y/n)", Feanor said stiffly. "I'm looking for Nerdanel. I'm afraid I must talk to her. I find my thoughts unpleasantly tangled. Apparently it is impossible for me to clear my head without her advice. I trust that you have an idea where she is, you are her friend after all."
"M-my lord!" you exclaimed in surprise when he suddenly appeared surrounded by such serious air, but quickly you understood what he asked of you. You decided to be careful, out of loyalty and bracing yourself for his anger. "It is not my right to say where Nerdanel is. I would not betray her trust by exposing her."
Feanor's shadow seemed to suddenly fall over you. You could not look him in the eyes. You could feel him stand next to your table, silently. The air seemed cold. You could see your friend hold her breath.
"You would deny me information about my family?" Feanor asked, his voice threateningly low.
"Well... she is not your wife anymore, is she?" you said meekly with wide eyes.
Feanor's breath hitched.
Suddenly he slammed his hand on the table in front of you and leaned down close to your face.
"You!! This is all your fault! You wanted Nerdanel to leave me so you could have me to yourself, didn't you?! You have convinced her to abandon me!!" Feanor shouted at you in fury.
"What?! No!! You are wrong! That's not it at all!" you shouted at him, leaning back in fear.
"You are a selfish woman, not to mention delusional!! I will never be with you! I will not give you what you want! I would kiss a thousand women before you!" Feanor spat.
You saw Feanor move quickly on the other side of the table, where your friend was sitting. To your horror he leaned down, kissing them forcefully on the lips. Then Feanor turned to look at you with righteous anger, not ashamed despite stealing a kiss from somebody who had nothing to do with this.
"There!! Go ahead a weep!! You will never end up with me!!" Feanor spat at you before turning around and storming off.
You were shaken after that. You and your friend spent the next hour trying to calm down and comforting each other. You made sure that she was okay after Feanor had forced a kiss on her. You went to your home later feeling lost and messed up.
---
The three days after Feanor's outburst you were sitting under a tree in a garden and admiring the flowers that were floating through the air all around you.
This was a temple garden. The temple had been built for Aulë, the vala. The garden was beautiful. The trees were full of blooming flowers. Flower petals fell through the air, making the garden seem like a daydream.
You leaned back to lay down under the tree. You closed your eyes, letting the sound of wind and leaves ease your mind. You tried to forget about Feanor. Nerdanel had said that the oldest son of Finwe had calmed down after that day. Thankfully.
You fell asleep.
You woke up later, opening your eyes to see the leaves and flowers sway in the tree above you. It was beautiful.
You turned your head slightly to the side, realizing that somebody was laying down right next to you.
"AAAAH!" you panicked, scrambling to push yourself away.
The person lying next to you grabbed your wrist and pinned it against the ground, preventing your escape.
You fell on your side, looking up at your capturer from where you were laying on the ground.
It was Feanor.
"Don't move", he said.
You froze, staring at him.
He was holding your wrist in place. You could feel his grip. He wasn't letting go. He could easily close his hand around your wrist, his palm twice the size of yours and the fingers long and strong. You felt like your soul was wavering in front of his power.
He looked mighty, as always. Also unenthusiastic and tired. But as tired as his eyes looked, he was focused on looking at you.
"I'm sorry", he said. "Is your friend okay? I must have terrified them."
"What?" you asked, still in disbelief.
"I said I'm sorry", Feanor said.
You stared at him, remembering the way he had acted. The anger on his face. His arrogance.
You sniffled a little, your eyes teary.
Feanor's eyes widened. He looked regretful.
"Are you afraid of me?" he asked, sounding heartbroken.
"A little", you managed to say in a small voice as more tears came.
Feanor reached out, pressing you against his chest.
"Don't be afraid of me", he pleaded. "Nerdanel will kill me. She is furious with me."
You hid your face in his chest, letting the tears fall.
"I'm sorry for not appreciating your gifts. They were very lovely. I was an imbecil for not appreciating them", Feanor continued quickly, his voice quiet and desperate.
You tried to breath slowly, your sobs dying down. Your face was a mess.
"I'm sorry for saying that it was your fault Nerdanel left me. I'm sorry I said you were selfish. I'm sorry I kissed your friend. I'll apologize to them later."
You sniffled against his chest, nuzzling closer to his heat. His body felt large and powerful against your skin.
You felt Feanor shiver a little. The thought of making someone so respected and powerful shiver made you feel a little giddy.
Feanor smoothed a hand over your hair and you realized that he was acting softer than you had ever seen him act before. You tried to move your hands away from his chest, afraid that you would ruin the moment. Instead you felt that his hand was still closed around your wrist.
The thought of your wrist remaining in his grip made warm comfort spread through you.
"It's funny", Feanor said, petting your hair. "I have not comforted anyone like this after my children grew to full height."
"I like it", you said boldly with all the softness you had.
"You do?" Feanor asked and it sounded like he was smiling. "I have to admit that I enjoy this too."
You sighed softly and smiled with your cheek against his chest.
Feanor seemed to have calmed down. His voice was relaxed and deep again.
"You caught me off guard", Feanor said. "Out of all the times I have visited this place, I have never fallen asleep here. Usually I come here to feel connected to Aulë. Were you really sleeping?"
"Yes", you answered. "Did you think I was pretending?"
"As I was approaching you I thought that maybe you were. I thought that you were trying to catch my attention, lure me closer", Feanor said while smiling.
"Hey! I wasn't!" you denied the accusation.
"Alright, alright! I'm sorry! What can I do to stop hurting your feelings? It keeps happening", Feanor said thoughtfully.
"You can apologize one last time", you said.
"One last time? And then I am forgiven?" Feanor asked.
"Yes."
"Alright. What should I apologize for?"
"For saying that you would kiss a thousand women before me", you said in a small voice.
"Ah... I did say that, didn't I?" Feanor said regretfully.
He fell into a thoughtful silence for a moment before he looked at you.
"Should I demonstrate how wrong I was?"
You blushed.
"Yes... if it's okay with you", you said.
"Well, Nerdanel has kissed many people after leaving me... so there's nothing holding me back, is there?" Feanor said.
"One kiss", you said, full of anticipation and disbelief.
"One kiss", Feanor confirmed.
Feanor let you lay on your back on the grass. He shifted into a sitting position and crawled on top of you.
You were nervous and unsure what to do. You assumed that Feanor would now how to perform.
You looked at him as he moved carefully and slowly to cage you between his arms. It felt like he was trying to not scare you.
It took a moment before Feanor moved any closer to you after positioning himself above you. It took a moment for him to even meet your eyes.
And when he met your eyes, the trusting and soft look you gave him made him smile just a little and before he began to move his face closer with the same carefulness that he had done before.
You imagined him having a lot of experience. The thought was thrilling and definitely somewhat overwhelming. You stayed still, looking and looking and looking as his face moved closer, slowly and carefully, giving you every chance to move away or tell him to stop, but you didn't.
When Feanor's face was only a finger's length away from yours, you saw his mouth open slightly. Then you saw his eyes move down, look at your lips.
A moment later he was so close you could see only him. You were breathless. Overwhelmed in the best way. Waiting. Waiting.
And there it was! His lips were attached to yours!
His and your lips pressed together. It was intimate, so impossibly warm and soft and intimate.
He pressed closer, chasing your lips. His lips moved against yours, like waves. You moved your lips, embarrassed when you didn't get it right away.
He pulled away and you both breathed. Then he closed the gap again. You welcomed his lips, feeling impossibly giddy when you felt them.
You felt Feanor pin one of your wrists against the ground. It send a delicious thrill through you.
Your lips had gotten wet. It felt amazing. To move your lips against Feanor's.
You continued for awhile. And every second was stretched in honey.
summary: you've been caught in the middle of a competition between Feanor and Fingolfin's, and you can't imagine having to choose between the two. Thankfully, they make things easier
warnings: SMUT (kinda incest/y i guess since they're half brothers but nothing happens between them I swear), oral sex (m and f recieving), dirty talk
word count: 6k
requests: I’m not sure if you write for threesomes in this fandom (and if you don’t, please feel free to discard this ask): requesting Feanor x reader x Fingolfin, smut, where both of them are in love with the reader but reader doesn’t want to offend one by choosing the other, so she chooses to keep her difference, and Feanor and Fingolfin seduce her and agree to share her? Turn pleasuring her into a competition to see who is the better lover once and for all?
professor tolkien I am so sorry for this ily
DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE
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You wandered down the paths of the gardens, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of the flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. The air was sweet, something which you normally would have cherished on such a fine afternoon. But not today. No, today was different. Instead of appreciating the beauty of the nature around you like you usually did, your mind was far away. It was swimming in the afterthoughts of the dream you had last night, one that sent a blush to your cheeks at the mere thought of it.
That morning, you had woken up with a thin layer of sweat on your skin and a flush on your face. But it was not the product of illness, nor the result of a nightmare. No, it was from a dream filled with lust and pleasure. In this dream, your deepest, most shameful desires had come to light. You had been at the mercy of the princes Fëanor and Fingolfin, the two eldest sons of Finwë himself, as they performed acts on you so sinful that the mere thought of them sent shivers down your spine.
You could still feel their mouths on your skin, their fingers working magic and tongues hot against your body. The sensation of the princes inside of you lingered as if it had actually happened.
It had almost felt real.
You had dreamed of them before, but last night was the first time it had turned that sexual. For weeks Fëanor and Fingolfin had been competing for your affections, each trying to outdo the other with flirtatious comments and gestures. It had begun when Fëanor interrupted your lunch with Fingolfin, stealing you away from his half-brother to show you his work in the forges. The next day, Fingolfin had appeared at your door to personally escort you to dinner, gently placing a flower in your hair, claiming it complimented your eyes. Their competition had grown less and less subtle, and was beginning to irritate you. At first, it was flattering, but now it had become more of an inconvenience. Truthfully, a small part of your heart had always harboured a crush for both princes, and up until now, you had thought it easily concealable.
And so you continued your path down the garden, head in the clouds and paying no attention to the world around you as you savoured the sensations lingering on your skin from last night’s dream. Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your daze as you collided with a tall figure, your head smacking into a very muscular chest. Startled, you stepped back and looked up at the living obstacle, only to be met with the amused gaze of Fëanor himself.
“My Lord,” You stammered, dipping your head. “My apologies. I did not see you there.”
Fëanor snorted, “Clearly.” He said, obviously finding the situation rather entertaining. You dared to look up at him, but regretted your decision immediately. His lips were smirking with their usual arrogance, his grey-blue eyes piercing your very soul. His dark hair was loosely hanging around his face, which was not covered in ash from the forges for once. The mere image of his face looking down on your much smaller frame only brought back the images in your mind from your dream, and it sent an instant blush to your face. You quickly averted your gaze, hoping Fëanor would not notice.
Unsurprisingly, he did, as his smirk only grew more arrogant. His hand grazed your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet his gaze. You bit your lip, desperately trying to force the sinful images from your mind.
To make matters worse, Fëanor moved his hand from your chin to your face, pressing the back of his hand to your cheek. “Are you alright, my dear?” He said, the curiosity in his voice obviously feigned. “Your face appears rather flushed.”
You gritted your teeth. “I’m fine.” You said, much harsher than intended. The arrogant asshole knew exactly what he was doing. You hated the effect he had on you, how a simple touch could make your body react in such a strong way.
And Fëanor knew that. He removed his hand from your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost your collarbone has he brought them back down to his sides. “Perhaps you did not sleep well enough…” He mused. You stiffened at the mention of your sleep, and Fëanor noticed immediately and cocked his eyebrow. “Or perhaps, you slept rather well…”
The both of you knew what he was getting at, and at this you squirmed even more, mind racing as you tried to think of a response. Usually you were much more composed than this, but not today. Much to your annoyance, last night’s dream continued to cloud your judgement. He extended his arm and you took it, and the two of you continued on your original path through the garden.
“Did you dream of me, dear Y/N?” Fëanor inquired as you walked, noting the blush that had returned to your cheeks.
“I do not remember.” You stated, hoping that would be sufficient enough to make Fëanor drop it.
Oh how wrong you were, for your vague answer merely encouraged the prince. “Or perhaps you dreamed of my brother,” He sighed dramatically, but continued to watch you from the corner of his eye, studying the every reaction you produced.
This only made you squirm even more, as if he was reading your mind, delving into your deepest desires that last night had uncovered. You felt ashamed at your current state, how Fëanor was able to read you as if you were an open book.
“Uh…” You stammered. “I… I do not think so, my Lord.”
At this, Fëanor hummed, looking straight ahead. “So your dreams were not of me, nor my brother, then who? If you hold affections for another, Lady Y/N, I would have you tell me…”
“It’s not that.” You snapped, interrupting him mid-sentence.
At this, Fëanor stopped you both, turning around so that he faced you. He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, my dear, perhaps you dreamed of us both…”
You breathed in sharply. It was all too much for you, his lips whispering things into your ear just as he had in your dream, his presence so close and threatening to consume you. You stepped away before your body could react further. “I… I am sorry,” You stammered, bowing your head with as much dignity as you could muster. “I must go.”
Without waiting for an answer, you walked away as quickly as possible. You knew it was rude, but you did not care. You hurried away before anyone could see your flustered state, mentally cursing at both yourself and the arrogant prince.
*************
You spent the rest of the day avoiding both Fëanor and Fingolfin, knowing that if Fëanor continued to further inquire about your dreams, he would end up with a broken jaw, and the guards would almost certainly throw you into a cell. You had skipped lunch, sneaking out into the forest through the kitchens and grabbing a loaf of bread from your friend on the way out. You chose to spend the next few hours under your favourite tree where you knew the princes would not look for you, letting your mind drift off again once more. Desperately, you tried to keep your thoughts civil, planning out your next letter to your mother and debating whether or not to continue the song you had been composing. But your consciousness would simply not allow you to focus on such trivial matters.
After a few hours, you finally surrendered to your thoughts, tilting your head back and resting it on the tree as you closed your eyes. You let out a sigh almost immediately, letting last night’s dream replay in your head over and over as you let the world around you fade away.
Unbeknownst to you, Fëanor was watching you from a distance. He had known of your favourite spot in the forest for some time now, but dared not disturb you. Normally he did not particularly care for the boundaries of others. He was a prince, and may inherit his father’s crown and titles one day and could do as he pleased. Fëanor would never admit it, but a small part of him feared that if he approached you in your secret spot, you would lose respect for him and become distant, which was the opposite of what he desired.
So he instead grew content with simply observing you from a distance, something which had become a daily occurrence for him. He noted the content on your face, and the hint of a blush on your cheeks, reminding him of your earlier state in the gardens.
Fëanor relished in the memory. Normally you were much more composed, but he liked the way you squirmed beneath his gaze, unable to hide the obvious thoughts that were racing through your mind as his lips brushed your ear. At this point he was almost certain that you had dreamed of sharing your bed with him, and possibly his half-brother, and that was why your encounter in the gardens had been so unusual. But the prince was not quite prepared for what he would hear and witness next.
It was faint, barely audible even to his elven ears, but you let out a breathy whisper: “Fëanor…”
His name coming from your lips in such a manner sent an all too familiar sensation down Fëanor’s spine. He held his breath as he saw you ever so slightly press your legs together, chest rising up and down intensely. Countless times Fëanor had imagined you beneath him, his name spilling from your mouth as his hands explored your body. He had thought about the ways he would claim you, and while part of him wanted to take you from behind and fuck you until you screamed, the other part of him wanted to see you beneath him, receiving the most satisfaction and pleasure you’d ever had in your life.
He bit his lip, relishing in how blissfully unaware you were of your surroundings until you whispered another name, “Fingolfin…”
Under any other circumstances, hearing your sweet lips whisper Fingolfin’s name would have sent Fëanor into a murderous rage frightening enough to make Morgoth cower. But not this time. Instead of being filled with jealousy, a brilliant idea came to his mind and he smirked. Your whispers were all the confirmation he needed to know exactly what you had dreamed of last night. Satisfied, Fëanor turned away and headed back to the palace.
He needed to talk to Fingolfin.
**********
After a while, you finally opened your eyes and sat up straight. You did not know how much time had passed since you had drifted off into your haze. You felt a cold breeze, realizing it was about to get dark soon. Collecting your skirt, you stood up, shivering slightly at the cold as you headed back through the forest.
When you arrived inside the palace, you did not bother to see if there was any food left in the kitchen. Instead, you elected to return to your chambers, where you hoped to have a hot bath and go to sleep. You arrived at your door and pushed it open, but nearly shrieked in surprise at the sight before you.
Fëanor was lying on your bed, legs crossed as he casually fiddled with the corner of one of your pillows. He was not dressed in his usual fancy robes, but rather a simple pair of trousers with a loose white shirt. He gave you a smirk as you entered, noting the surprise on your face.
“Good evening, my dear Y/N.” Fëanor said innocently. “What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder if you got lost on your way to bed.”
After a few moments, your shock subsided. “What the fuck, Fëanor?” You snapped, not bothering with your usual polite greeting. “Why the fuck are you in my chambers? You can’t just walk in whenever-”
“Oh, but I can.” He interrupted, dismissing your outburst. “But that matters not. Perhaps now you will tell me more about your dream, little one.”
At this, you rolled your eyes, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. This time, Fëanor and his half-brother’s competitiveness had gone too far. “Seriously?” You said in an exasperated tone, your hands defiantly placed on your hips, all sense of embarrassment gone. “That’s what you came here to ask? Are you not capable of just dropping the subject?”
Before Fëanor could answer, a deep voice came from the darkest corner of the room. “I, too, would like to know about this dream.”
You practically jumped out of your skin. Out of the shadows emerged Fingolfin himself. But it was not the Fingolfin you had grown accustomed to seeing - the noble elf who always had a stoic expression on his chiseled face, consistently dressed in robes more elaborate than that of his brother’s. No, this Fingolfin was clad in similar attire to Fëanor, his toned chest showing behind the thin fabric. His dark brown hair was smooth, making you want to run your fingers through it. His eyes were even more silver than his brother’s, making contact with yours as he stepped closer to you.
“Okay….” You stuttered, beyond confused. “What the fuck is going on?”
Fëanor sighed dramatically, kicking his legs off the bed and standing up. The sons of Finwë walked towards you like predators stalking their prey. You felt your heart race, trying to step away only for your back to meet the wall behind you and you gulped. Simply seeing the princes like this was enough for all your sinful thoughts created by your dream to surface at the front of your mind. You pressed your legs together as they drew closer, stopping less than a foot away from you.
“The thing is, my dear,” Fëanor said, reaching out and brushing your fingers against your wrist before slowly dragging them up the length of your arm. “I have come to the conclusion that the reason your head has been in the clouds all day is because of the dream you had last night. It only took one touch from me in the gardens this morning to figure out all I needed to know about it…”
“My brother tells me that you dreamed of the two of us.” Fingolfin said, his voice feigning innocence just as his brother’s had earlier today. “And what do you presume we did to our lovely Y/N in her dream, Fëanáro?”
Fëanor chuckled, his movements on your arm not ceasing. “I think we fucked her into oblivion.” His voice dropped an octave. “Is that correct, meldenya [my love]? Did you dream of being at our mercy as we worshipped that pretty body of yours?”
By this point, you could resist them no longer. All day you had been fighting the sensations and emotions that stemmed from your dream, but between Fëanor’s teasing touches and Fingolfin’s lust-filled gaze, you finally caved.
“Yes.” You muttered meekly, face flushing with embarrassment. You felt arousal pool between your legs, and for a moment you hated yourself for reacting to the two noble elves so strongly when they had not really done much.
Fingolfin chuckled lowly, reaching up to cup your face with his left hand. “Do not be ashamed, my dear,” He soothed. “We only wish to give you what you desire.”
Fëanor leaned in, as he did earlier in the gardens, but this time his teeth gently grazed along the outside of your pointed ear. That sensation alone sent shockwaves through your body, every nerve in the sensitive area screaming that it was too much and not enough at the same time. “What is it exactly, darling, that your dream revealed your desires to be?” He murmured against your skin. “After all, we are generous elves — tell us exactly what you want, and you may have it. So, my dear, please do reveal exactly how that little dream of yours went down.”
Everything was spinning. Any sense of composure you had was gone under their touches. Fingolfin’s left hand trailed down your neck, brushing against your breast before settling on your waist and giving it a firm squeeze. You sighed, allowing Fëanor to continue his ministrations along your ear as you let your head rest against the wooden door. The air felt hot, your clothes too tight - if you could only just slip your dress off…
Your thoughts were cut off but a sharp squeeze by that large hand at your waist. “Your prince asked you a question,” Fingolfin all but growled, his voice full of dominance and leaving no room for debate. It was akin to the tone you had heard him use when giving orders, only this one was dripping with heat. “Answer it, darling, before we take matters into our own hands.”
The image was tempting — to allow the two elves to make the choices for you, doing with you as they pleased. But then the reality of the situation set in: here you were, a common-born elf with no noble family, with two of the most desirable elves in Arda ready to comply with your every wish. They held such control, such respect everywhere else, except for at this moment in your bedroom. In this space, you made the decisions.
They were yours to command, to wield like a sword.
You smirked. “Well, in my dream you both took my clothes off and carried me to the bed,” You began, hearing Fëanor hum his approval. “You took turns tasting me, as if I was your last meal on Arda. I dreamed of you both on your knees, allowing me to get lost in the pleasure of your fingers and tongues. Then Fëanor took me from behind, while Fingolfin claimed my mouth.”
The words tumbled out of you like a river bursting free from a dam. So long had you contained your desires, but no longer. Evidently, your words had an effect on the two princes. Fëanor’s breathing had become more noticeable, his attention on your ear diverted to your neck in the soft spot beneath your jaw, making you see stars. Fingolfin’s right hand had come up to knead your right breast, his left hand migrating to your ass with a firmness and assurance that made your knees go weak.
“See?” Fëanor purred. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now let us take care of you, darling. Let us give you everything and more.”
You whined as he pulled away, but it was cut short as the two elves began working in tandem to remove your dress. Fëanor pulled your arms out of your sleeves with a shocking tenderness, while Fingolfin’s thick fingers worked at the laces on your back. Within seconds, your chest was left bare. Instinctively, your arms went to cover your breasts, but strong hands clamped down on your wrists.
“Now now, let’s not be shy,” Fëanor mockingly chastised. “Let us see you, princess.” Before you could even comprehend a response, your arms were back at your sides. You almost sighed with relief as you were free from the constricting top of your dress. But what happened next nearly made you climax on the spot.
Fëanor got to his knees, pulling your dress past your waist and down to your ankles along with your panties. Fëanor, son of High King Finwë, the Prince of the Noldor, was kneeling before you as if in worship. His grey-blue eyes, which normally were clouded like the sky of an oncoming storm, were clear and looking up at you — still arrogant, but with a newfound awe as they surveyed your figure. You stepped out of your dress, moment of awe cut short as Fingolfin, determined not to let his brother have all the attention, swept you up into his strong arms.
He carried you over to your bed, placing you down on the mattress as if you were a piece of glass threatening to break under his strong arms. Almost immediately, he was on top of you, his muscular frame so close, but not close enough. Fingolfin leaned his head down as if to kiss you, but instead put his lips to your ear.
“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His deep voice was like velvet, a silky fog wrapping around all your senses. “How many nights I have pictured you under me, those starlit eyes staring into mine as I enter you? How I have nearly dropped to my knees just to beg you for one taste of you? How I’ve pumped myself dry imagining those lips around my cock? My sweet Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me.”
“To us.” Came the other male’s voice. Fingolfin’s confessions had you reeling, to the point you had almost forgotten Fëanor was there. You turned your neck to the right, allowing the elf on top of you to press warm kisses down the left side of your neck, nipping and sucking as he went. In turning your head you were faced with Fëanor, who had discarded his shirt. His muscles looked like they were sculpted by Aulë himself, each one toned and defined in ways you didn’t know possible from countless hours spent in the forges. Parts of his loose hair hung over his shoulders, framing his angular face as he stared at you.
Naturally, the eldest son of Finwë almost preened at the lust-filled look you gave him. Under normal circumstances you would have mentally smacked yourself for so easily stroking the prince’s already inflated ego, but it mattered not in this moment. All you cared about was that he touch you with those strong, practised hands. You whined as Fingolfin’s teeth grazed a sensitive spot along the column of your throat before moving down to your collarbone, sucking and biting gently as he went. One of his large hands had come up to your breast, kneading the flesh and causing you to gasp.
“You look so exquisite,” Fëanor purred as he approached the bed, looking down at your flushed form unabashedly. “Just laying there for us to ruin you. You are lucky Fingolfin is much gentler than I. He shall warm you up for me so I can make you scream loud enough for all of Arda to hear you.”
You yelped as Fingolfin harshly bit down on your nipple while boldly cupping between your legs with his free hand. “Do you think me unable to make her scream?” He growled, a dark glint in his eyes that sent chills through your body.
Fëanor smirked. “Not as well as I can.”
“Challenge accepted.” Fingolfin said boldly as he swiped a finger up your slit, collecting the ever-growing pool of wetness there. Your responsive noise was cut off as Fëanor’s large hand wrapped around your throat, his mouth swallowing your gasp and claiming your lips. He tasted like spiced wine and embers, encasing all your senses at once. The Prince groaned into your mouth, squeezing your throat harder. Your head spun between the dominance of Fëanor’s lips on yours and Fingolfin’s mouth slowly descending towards your core.
“Watch it,” The younger elf growled, lifting his lips from your stomach. “You said we’d take turns.”
Fëanor removed his lips from yours, rolling his eyes as he released your throat. “Get over it.” He said. “If you get to taste her pussy first, then I get to taste her mouth first. Fair is fair.”
Fingolfin huffed, but didn’t argue. With a new level of determination, he placed his lips back on your skin. You moaned, the sensation of his lips on your stomach making you tingle. The Prince’s hot breath fanned over your core, causing you to inhale sharply. “Ask me nicely.” He said, the closeness of his lips to your wetness making you squirm.
“What?” You mumbled, earning a chuckle from Fëanor, who had sat himself on the bed and was stroking your hair. Every so often, he tugged gently.
“I said, ask me nicely.” Fingolfin repeated, more sternly this time. The authority in his voice went straight between your legs, slick tracking down onto the soft sheets below.
Fëanor’s grip on your locks tightened as he chuckled again. “We’ve barely touched her and she’s already incoherent. Perhaps she cannot handle us and we should stop—“
“No!” You cried out, embarrassingly fast.
Fingolfin rested his cheek on the inside of your thigh, and you peered down at him. The sight of the towering, noble elf on his knees with his chiselled face mere centimetres away from your pussy made you dizzy. You had fantasized about this moment more than you cared to admit, alternating between the two princes most of the time. “Well, my love, if you want me to taste your sweet pussy, you have to beg for it.” He said lowly.
You whined, pouting a bit. You were a proud elf, and begging was not your strong suit. Sensing your hesitation, Fingolfin smirked, and began snaking his way down the bed towards your feet. He grabbed your ankle and lifted your leg up, placing feather light kisses along the inside. Slowly as ever, the prince made his way down your leg, kissing and nipping as he went. Right before he met your core, he pulled away and repeated the pattern on your other leg, causing you to whine.
“Poor thing.” Fëanor said in mock sympathy, stroking your face with his calloused fingers. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he bent down and whispered in your ear. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll throw him aside and show him how it’s done. You won’t need to beg, I’ll give you whatever you want, sweet thing.”
“Don’t listen to him.” Fingolfin said sternly, drawing your attention back to the elf between your legs. “Focus on me. Once you ask, I will be yours to command. All you must do is beg for it.”
“She won’t break.” Fëanor snorted impatiently, clearly waiting for his chance.
Fingolfin responded confidently. “Yes, she will.” Lazily, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue around the edges of your core, centimetres away from where you needed him most. You let out a shaky breath, toes curling as your eyes squeezed shut. It was torture — blissful, but excruciating torture. It wasn’t long before you felt your pride begin to crack, the tough facade you thought you had slowly crumbling.
“Please.” You mumbled, voice breathy and barely above a whisper.
The Prince smirked in satisfaction, kissing your mound lightly. “Please, what?”
“Please, Fingolfin,” You gasped, fighting the urge to clamp your legs around him and drag him closer. “Please use your tongue on my pussy. Please, my lord.”
Satisfied, Fingolfin finally lowered his mouth to your cunt, licking a bold stripe up your slut. You cried out, nearly in tears at the overwhelming pleasure as the prince began to skillfully devour you. Your hands quickly found themselves tangled in his hair, earning a heavenly groan from the male. He was taking his time with you, each movement confident and strong and eliciting an intense reaction. Your head spun, legs weak already with the pleasure Fingolfin was bringing you.
“Open your eyes.” Fëanor’s strong hand tangled in your hair again, tilting your head down and forcing you to look down at the sight before you. “Is this what you dreamed of, darling? Being our little plaything, begging for us to make you feel better than any other male could? How many nights have those little fingers taken up residence between your legs as you imagine this very scene, trying to find relief but never quite scratching that itch?”
You garbled something of a response, but you weren’t even sure what. Fëanor growled, tightening his grip. “I asked you a question, pet. How many times have you touched yourself imagining this?”
“Many nights…” You managed to gasp, ensuring to keep your eyes on Fingolfin, who took your clit between his lips and sucked.
“Good girl.” Fëanor purred. “But I bet your fingers aren’t nearly as satisfying as our tongues, or our cocks, are they?”
“No.” You arched your back, feeling that tightening buildup inside your body as you approached your orgasm faster than you’d care to admit.
“Naturally.” Fëanor loosened his grip on your hair. “Now look at Arakáno as you cum on his face.”
You obeyed without thinking, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as Fingolfin’s tongue tipped you over the edge, sending shockwaves through your entire body. Fingolfin moaned with you as you tugged on his dark locks, the animalistic sound echoing throughout the chamber as you rode out your climax.
Panting, you caught your breath as he pulled away, leaving your legs trembling. He climbed up your body, his massive form towering over yours as he leaned down and kissed you. You felt in a trance, body a trembling mess. You wondered how you would endure multiple rounds if you were this weak already.
You didn’t even realize how Fëanor had slunk down to take Fingolfin’s place until firm hands snaked under your thighs and gripped your hips firmly. Without a warning, he dove into your still sensitive pussy like a man starved, loud slurping noises filling the room. You cried out, trying to squirm away, but Fëanor’s grip was like iron and you couldn’t move.
“That’s it, darling.” Fingolfin purred. “Let us hear you. Let the whole palace hear you.”
You no longer attempted to bite your lip and conceal your noises. Your moans sounded throughout the room as Fingolfin firmly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. You whimpered, almost completely immobile. You were overstimulated from your first orgasm, yet the older prince had no mercy on you as he continued to devour your wetness. While Fingolfin was like the water’s current, calculated and steady, his half brother was akin to a hurricane of fire. His movements were fast and unpatterned, designed to send you towards the edge as fast and as ruthlessly as possible. A single tear ran down your cheek as you pleaded — not even sure what you were pleading for.
“Ease up, Fëanor.” Fingolfin said sternly, noticing your tear.
The heir lifted his head for a moment and scoffed. “She can take it. Can’t you, pet?”
You nodded, breathless. “Yes, I can take it. Please, just don’t stop.”
“Thought so.” Fëanor smirked triumphantly before delving back between your legs, doubling his efforts. Two of his thick fingers found their way inside your tight walls, causing you to cry out even louder. Quickly, they found that spot deep inside you that made your entire body jolt.
You could practically see Fëanor’s ego inflate at your reaction, feeling the satisfied smirk of his lips on your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your release approached at light speed within minutes, but just as you were about to fall over the edge, Fëanor pulled away.
“No!” You cried out pitifully, wanting to kick him in the face at your loss of an orgasm. Before you could protest further, those strong hands on your hips flipped you over onto stomach. Fëanor yanked your hips back so you were up on your knees, and Fingolfin released your wrists, allowing you to push yourself up onto your hands.
“Are you going to take our cocks like a good little slut?” Fëanor cooed, unlacing his breeches and pulling them off. Fingolfin had also begun removing his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor to reveal his toned body. Your mouth watered as he began removing his breeches, his large cock springing free. He smirked with pride as you drank in the sight of him, giving himself a firm stroke as he walked towards the edge of the bed.
You gasped as Fëanor pressed his thick cock into you, rutting back and forth and caressing your ass with skilled hands. “We’re going to stuff both ends of you, pet. I’m going to fill that tight pussy of yours with my cum, and you’re going to take every drop of it with pride Understood?”
You nodded, pressing your ass eagerly into Fëanor’s cock. He chuckled, slapping your ass one last time before pressing the head into you. You moaned at the stretch, forcing yourself to relax as the Prince slid himself into you with surprising slowness. “Gods above,” Fëanor groaned behind you. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”
Your toes curled at the thought of the Prince fantasizing about this moment just like you did. Your thoughts were interrupted as Fingolfin brought his cock to your lips, gently tracing them with the head. “Open.” He commanded, gently but sternly.
You obliged without thinking, body responding to his orders on its own. Eagerly, your jaw stretched to wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. Fingolfin sighed deeply, the noise sending pleasure down your spin. You inhaled through your nose, opening your throat as best you could to accommodate his massive size.
“Good girl,” Fingolfin praised as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. It was a sight that took your breath away — the noble prince with his head tilted back and eyes fluttered shut in bliss at how you made him feel. “Look at you, taking me in that smart mouth of yours so well. It’s like you were made for this, weren’t you?”
Fëanor grunted, beginning to move his hips and thrust in and out of you. He swore, picking up the pace. Fingolfin did the same, gently fucking your face. You were in heaven, the two elven princes filling you up as they found a rhythm that made you see stars. Your body jostled between them like a rag doll, your arms fighting to keep yourself upright as they increased the pace.
The room was filled with the sounds of sex as they mercilessly pounded into you for what felt like hours. Tears spilled down your throat as you gagged on Fingolfin’s cock, taking breaths through your nose whenever you could. Fëanor gripped your hips so tightly you knew there would be colourful bruises the next day — bruises you would be proud to stare at in the mirror.
Your body crescendoed to the release you were denied earlier, beginning to shake as you approached it fast. You began to clench around Fëanor’s cock, and he moaned. “That’s it, pet.” He growled, ploughing into your cunt. “Cum all over my cock like the slut you are. Fucking take it.”
You whimpered, screaming around Fingolfin’s cock as one of Fëanor’s hands reached down between your legs and firmly rubbed your clit. That was all it took for you to explode, shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm took over. You saw white, Fingolfin letting out a loud groan as the vibrations from your noises consumed his cock. Fëanor moaned fiercely, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you.
Fingolfin followed a few minutes later, and you eagerly swallowed every drop he spurted down your throat. Your jaw ached and every bone in your body was spent, but you were in heaven. A thin sheen of sweat covered the Princes, their long hair clinging to their muscles as they panted. You collapsed as they pulled out of you, landing on the soft bed as you caught your breath. Wordlessly, the princes began to tend to you. Fingolfin grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and gently brought it to your lips, smoothing your hair as he did so. Fëanor brought forth a damp cloth, gently wiping you down. They murmured gentle praises, and you basked in the glow of their attention. They settled you under the sheets, each prince taking up residence beside you and caressing your body.
“So…” Fëanor hummed as you began to drift off into sleep. “Who won?”
Fingolfin’s quiet but stern scold was all you heard before you let yourself slip into unconsciousness.
*Y/N loses a chess game for the 5th time in a row. Slam hands on the table*
Alright Náro! The next time you beat me, you have to go skinny dipping in the cold lake tonight!
Placing his hands under his chin and smirking, he leaned forward while making direct eye contact. “Then I’ll work even harder to beat you so that you can join me for a midnight swim.”
