Words: 1519
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Curufin/Finrod Felagund
Characters: Curufin (Tolkien), Finrod Felagund
Additional Tags: Introspection, Memories, Rated For Violence, the curufin/finrod is very mild, brief description of killing
Summary:
“Do you know why Men say killing gets easier?”
(A short, Curufin-centric introspection on killing, kinslaying, and the reasons to do so.)
Chapters: 1/7
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Sauron
Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Sauron (Tolkien), Original Characters
Additional Tags: Torture, Psychological Torture, Captivity, Vomiting, Sensory Deprivation, Minor Amputation, Dental Torture, Forced Orgasm, Blood and Gore, Whump, Sauron Being an Asshole (Tolkien), Warning: Sauron (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel Needs a Hug, Escape Attempt, Mind Manipulation, Second Age of Arda (Tolkien), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Summary:
When Sauron's army threatens to overrun the forces of Lindon after the fall of Ost-in-Edhil, Elrond and his soldiers are saved by the dwarves of Khazad-dûm and the elves of Lórinand. But why ever should the Dark Lord let this most interesting specimen, the scion of Lúthien Tinúviel, escape – when he could instead satiate an ancient grudge, and gain a brand new plaything besides?
Set during the Sack of Eregion, in the Second Age of Arda.
SCREAM so many to choose from I'm like a toddler let loose in a grocery store but for now I'll go with feanolo omorashi or celegorm/curufin/the hunt puppy play for the wip filename game pleaseeee ❤️❤️
Hehehe how about both then
(Like I said, neither of these is truly in the writing stage yet, so I'll just tell you what I've planned so far!)
Fëanolo omorashi:
Setting is supposed to be post re-embodiment, with their relationship still being in the developing stages (I'm not really set on what that entails yet, maybe they're fucking already, maybe they're still mostly beating around the bush, idk). Fingolfin wants to push Fëanor's limits a little and also indulge in his piss kink, and takes full advantage of Fëanor's competetive nature and inflated ego/his pride.
Thing is, for this fic, Fingolfin dicovered his kink during his time as High King back in Beleriand as a nice way of solo play and stress relief, and experimented enough with it to know his shit pretty well. And Fëanor has never really done this, except for maybe some postponing when he was working, but how hard can it be? Oh well.
I'm still working on the exact parameters for the hold, because unfortunately if there's something to get technical about in fic I tend to get technical about it, and I do know some stuff about this particular topic lmao. I was thinking about utilizing the Rapid Desperation method, but since it's pretty time consuming and... likely difficult to convince someone else to do without explaining and therefor giving the trick away so I might just go for an in-between thing. But if I can somehow make it work I'll make him do that.
I'd really like to include some smut in it as well, maybe a blowjob. We'll see!
Celegorm/Curufin/The Hunt puppy play
I have two options in mind for this one, and haven't been able to choose yet tbh. Both are set in the Years of the Trees era. Curufin doesn't usually have much to do with the Hunt, apart from maybe some mutual friends through Celegorm, but Celegorm invites him along for this time. And here comes the two versions:
A) He's invited to a smaller, non-serious outing, things get raunchy, and Curufin is convinced to play dog and let the others fuck him. Focused more on the humiliation, but not in a malicious way, and Curufin is surprisingly into it.
B) He's invited to a proper Hunt Orgy. For this fic, it's a tradition for the Hunt for new members to always become the center subs of the party, free use adjacent, and since I've always liked the idea of some of Oromë's Maiar choosing their shapes to be in animal forms simply because they can/want to, in reference to that, for the newbies to also be dressed up as animals during these festivities. Curufin naturally gets roped into that, and boom gets to spend the night as a doggy/wolf cumdump. Celegorm is particularly into it of course. I'd think this one would be less focused on the humiliation, although still present since this is just not something Curufin is used to doing, but overall I'd plan for it to have more spiritual vibes, more about letting go, maybe have some drugs be involved too.
Thank you for the ask, talking about them definitley made me want to write them even more, so who knows, maybe they'll get promoted to the wip stage sooner rather than later👀
I actually have something perfect for you, since I got really motivated after you sent that ask about my wips and actually managed to get started with writing one of them!
So here's the beginning of the Celegorm/Curufin/The Hunt puppy play fic, mostly edited. Heads up for a crumb of sexual content, but mostly just talk thereof (no puppy play yet sadly)
Curufinwë hadn’t been thinking much about what he’d gotten himself into. At least, not until partway through the last of Telperion’s blooms before the proposed date, when Tyelkormo waylaid him on his way back to his rooms after dinner. It was strange enough for him to be around the house, especially this close to a Feast. But he was also clearly suppressing a smirk, hooking a finger unnecessarily into the neck of Curufinwë’s shirt as he waited for a servant to clear the hallway.
“So,” he half-whispered, looking conspirational enough to confirm Curufinwë’s suspicions of something being up. “How’s the preparation going?”
That made actual unease start to settle over him. He frowned, and searched his brother’s eyes for some sign he was just trying to mess with him. But when Curufinwë continued to show no intentions of responding, the mischievous glint in them slowly disappeared.
“There’ll be a lot of people there, you really ought to prepare at least a little,” Tyelkormo eventually said, still failing to elaborate what it even was he was talking about. Logically it could only really be about the feast, but if that was the case then he still did not know what the other meant. His voice held the kind of mockingly concerned tone that any other time would have instantly set Curufinwë off, yet at the moment his annoyance was more overshadowed by a growing sense of foreboding.
“And how exactly do you imagine for me to prepare?” Curufinwë finally asked. “Do you want me to sleep my way through Tirion? ‘Build up my stamina’ or something of the sort?”
To be fair, he couldn’t say the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. But in the end he’d decided it would hardly be necessary. He’d never had any problems pleasing his lovers before.
Tyelkormo did laugh at that, but not in the Curufinwë would have liked.
“Of course not! At least not to gain stamina – unless that is something you lack, Atarinkë.” Curufinwë wasn’t sure if he enjoyed hearing that name under these circumstances. It almost overshadowed the implied insult. His brother went on. “I meant preparation as in… Well, I don’t know how frequently you engage in such activities. Things can get rough when you’re not used to the traffic, if you know what I mean.”
A sudden flash of cold ran down his back. Curufinwë was pretty sure he did know what he meant. He could feel his face rapidly heating up at the thought, and this time the other’s expression showed genuine concern about his reaction.
“I did tell you about that, didn’t I?” Tyelkormo asked at last, but not nearly as guiltily as he should be.
Evidently he had not.
“You’ll be the star of the show, dear brother!”
And that was how, only a couple of hours later, Curufinwë found himself in his rooms with the door locked, kneeling ass up on the bed, and with his burning face buried in the cushions as he pressed a spit-slicked finger against his hole.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A Fistful of Heaven in my Hands
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien)
Characters: Fingon (Tolkien), Maedhros (Tolkien)
Additional Tags: Hair Kink, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, Deepthroating, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, silmsmutweek 2025
Summary:
Fingon goes to visit Maedhros in Himring, and finds that his lover has made quite the change to his appearance. He's very into it.
Written for day 1 of the @silmsmutweek 2025: Hair kink
Chapters: 3/8
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel/Sauron
Characters: Elrond Peredhel, Sauron (Tolkien), Original Characters
Additional Tags: Torture, Psychological Torture, Captivity, Vomiting, Sensory Deprivation, Minor Amputation, Dental Torture, Forced Orgasm, Blood and Gore, Whump, Sauron Being an Asshole (Tolkien), Warning: Sauron (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel Needs a Hug, Escape Attempt, Mind Manipulation, Second Age of Arda (Tolkien), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: Fingolfin/Fingon (Tolkien), Fingon/Maedhros (Tolkien)
Characters: Fingon (Tolkien), Fingolfin (Tolkien)
Additional Tags: Dark Fingolfin (Tolkien), Post-Rescue from Thangorodrim, other Finwions mentioned, Parent/Child Incest, Anal Sex, Crying, Trauma, Hurt No Comfort, Angst, Dark, rape as a disciplinary measure, Hopeful Ending, Victim POV, Silm Smut Week 2025 (Tolkien)
Summary:
It is not as you think, he wanted to tell his father, his heart having dropped like a stone down into the pit of his stomach.
Believe me, it is not as you think, he tried to say with his face alone, but his father’s face said only one thing in return.
Meet me in private, when this is dealt with.
Or: Fëanáro was not the only one left changed by the lies and manipulation of Morgoth. Findekáno suffers for it.
Prompt Fill for Day 7 of the @silmsmutweek 2025: Vertical Incest.
I was tagged by @ladysterndust to share one of my wips, and I thought that's the perfect opportunity to share a bit from the upcoming chapter of my Elrond/Sauron fic: He Who Flees the Light. It's been a while for that one, because editing - or rather completely rewriting - this chapter has been a complete pain in the ass, but I can finally say I've finished the rewriting part and am now back to actual editing! So hopefully it won't be long now until I can get it up :))
CW for descriptions of injuries
Whereas Celebrimbor’s mangled corpse now hangs at the outside of the city gates, Elrond has it almost comfortable down in his bland cell. When Mairon enters, the half-elf lies curled on his side, only his injured leg stretched out. Judging by the fall of his trousers, there is a thick bandage around his knee, likely thick enough that he wouldn’t be able to bend it even if he tried. His arms are still bound behind his back and the gag is still in place just as he’d ordered, and for a while Mairon just listens to the soft snoring, watches the trail of drool that connects Elrond’s mouth to the small puddle below his cheek.
There is something mesmerizing about watching a body in such a defenseless state, face soft and relaxed, chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath. The exhaustion makes the other’s sleep deep and true, something Mairon is used to seeing in captives. Often, this makes them appear small, weak to him, broken in combination with the rest of their physical state, but in this case, Elrond looks strangely peaceful.
He has been washed and put into clean clothes, though they have already begun dirtying again through prolonged wearing, and are adorned with some specks of relatively fresh-looking blood. Perhaps he has tried to fight during the last time he’s been taken to change the dressings on his leg. The space under his eyes still carries visible bruising, although judging by the hues it seems to be on the verge of healing, and his nose is still somewhat swollen. Mairon can tell that beneath the swelling, there is a dent in the bridge now, an imperfection that will stay– unlike the small red blotch on his lip. The skin must have burst there, too, when he’d fallen on his face, and the blood from his nose hidden the injury at first. Somehow, Mairon’s eyes feel strangely drawn to that point.
tagging: @leviosally, @ulmondil, @chephalopods, @amorbidcorvid, @crypticcuntking and @slightnettles to share anything you're working on atm! (no pressure ofc)
