#IDNMT writes

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Kinktober 2024 - Desk Sex (Authority kink/power imbalance & throne sex)

My dearest @mithrilhearts. You and me until the world goes up in flames, right? <3

Prompts: Desk Sex (Authority kink/power imbalance & throne sex)

Pairing: Bilbo x Thorin

Words: 565

Warnings: anal play, anal sex, nudity, desk sex

“Thorin, you really should take a…”

Bilbo fell silent as soon as he’d crossed the threshold of the small, dark room the King under the Mountain stubbornly claimed was a perfectly appropriate office.

Looking up pointedly, the newly restored regent set aside the magnifying lens he used to read the tiny script of one of his Blue Mountain correspondents slowly. “I was just about to take a break. How good of you to join me.”

There was something so seductively smouldering in his gaze and voice that the Hobbit promptly felt his ears and cheeks warm up treacherously.

Bilbo had yet to see Thorin sit on his actual throne—he’d been recovering from his grievous injuries until recently, and the restoration and repair crews had not cleared the throne room thus far—but he couldn’t imagine that his beloved could have cut a more alluringly impressive figure on that ancestral seat of power than he did behind the massive oaken desk.

When Thorin braced his broad hands against the littered papers and drew himself up carefully, his future consort felt his knees turn to jelly.

“Or did you need something else from me?” the dwarf asked, his voice heavy with unmistakable mischief. “Why don’t you come here and assist me?”

Bilbo hesitated, prompting a gentle reminder that this was an order from his king rather than a polite invitation.

In the Shire, nobody would have dared speak to Bilbo in that tone, and the titillating irreverence only stoked the fire, spreading from his soft belly to his quivering legs.

“Is that so?” he gasped even as his feet started moving towards the throne of wisdom and wood he’d so admired only a moment prior.

“I know you’re not partial to this chamber,” Thorin hummed as he caught Bilbo by the wrist and tugged him behind the desk resolutely. “However, I think I know a way to reconcile you with it.”

“As your obedient and devoted subject,” Bilbo teased, letting himself be crowded against the solid slab of old oak behind him, “I must insist that you don’t overexert yourself, my liege.”

Chuckling softly, Thorin swept aside the letters he’d been working on and waved an inviting hand at the free space.

“Another order?” Bilbo grinned but hopped onto the tabletop willingly enough.

When Thorin’s lips descended upon his impish face with all the authority of a true-born leader and his hands spread Bilbo’s thighs wide enough to step into the gap, the mouthy adventurer soon gave up on jesting and jeering.

Often, Bilbo reminded his better half that paperwork and diplomatic relationships were as important as fearless warfare and unshakeable loyalty, and so he truly felt as if he was being spread out and undressed leisurely on a throne rather than just an ancient escritoire.

He heard the discreet scratching of a drawer being opened, and then Thorin’s thick, steady fingers were working him open with something Bilbo could only hope was lube and not age-old ink.

“Careful,” he warned again as Thorin fumbled with the countless clasps and fastenings of his heavy garments before lining himself up against his lover’s welcomingly warm body.

“Would you prefer I sit in my chair?” Thorin whispered as he lifted Bilbo’s legs onto his shoulders and pushed into him steadily, hitting every sweet spot just right.

“Stubborn dwarf,” Bilbo cursed and lost himself in this wonderful, royal homecoming.

@tolkienpinupcalendar <3

Thank you so much for reading!

☞ Masterlist

[i-did-not-mean-to]

All right, let's give some of these a try.

I'm not a gore and horror writer, but I can give it my best try :D

Let's see what I can come up with LOL

(Input and suggestions are welcome, as ever!)

Slasher-Tines Day

The mods at @tolkienpinupcalendar are happy to introduce the new event Slahser-tines day! We not only do sex, we also do gore now and sometimes, if you are really lucky gore and sex 😉. We have an assortment of prompts to keep your slasher lover heart happy (and hopefully beating) 🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪

To participate:

Tag @tolkienpinupcalendar

Use the tag #tpcfemslashfeb

And send the link to our smut-mission page

If you want, you can also add (fic or art) your creation to our AO3 Collection!

Also, note that this is not only writing prompts. If you want to draw, moodboard, playlist etc. for the prompts, feel free to!!

Happy creating.

Mods @bellejolras, @frosticenow and @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book

P.S. This is a surprise for @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book

[myslashyvalentine]

The MSV 2025 Archive is Open!

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

We made it. That is no small thing this year with the current world events. There would be no My Slashy Valentine without all the amazing writers, old and new, who take this challenge on during the winter doldrums (or in the southern hemisphere, the summer sweats!)

A special thanks to Zhie, who double checks my matching, is an excellent sounding board, a tireless promoter and stalwart fandom ringleader.

Congratulations to all our new writers who completed their first swap: Abel/ baby_bat_98, Amanda/Thinwhitedutchess, Angela/ChillinbytheFire, BalrogBalls/TimelessUtterances, blueberryrock, cloudbower, Lanthanum12, Laufey/fullofleaves (though technically a veteran from 2004!!!), LiselleLascelles, Meredith/Rian, Misty/MysticFinde, Mona/queerofthedagger,  Mouse, Saint/saintstars, Shannon/ElrondsLibrary, Tamatoa/thereisamanmadeofcrabs and  Victoria/0ur_Ouroboros! Please check out their stories and make them feel welcome. 

Thanks always to all our veteran writers who continue to participate, tell their friends and show new participants that this is a fun Valentine's Day tradition! Together you all make this swap a vibrant part of the Tolkien community.

And now, for your reading enjoyment… The 2025 My Slashy Valentine Collection.

My Slashy Valentine 2025: The Master List!

Abel/baby_bat_98 wrote The Shape of Us for Nuizillien Aglarien wrote Things That Were for MysticFinde Amanda/Thinwhitedutchess wrote Lost in the solitude of his immense power for Rian Angela/ChillinbytheFire wrote Back in Business for DragonofMordor Argleena wrote Learning to Love Yourself Through Being Loved for Abel/ baby_bat_98 Azh/AdmirableMonster wrote Heartsease for Narya_Flame ♥ Azh/AdmirableMonster wrote and some nights we're choking on the words (but some we light on fire) for Heather/ohboromir ♥ Azh/AdmirableMonster wrote a little light to call my own for elladansgirl BalrogBalls/TimelessUtterances wrote Altitude Sickness for Amanda/Thinwhitedutchess ♥ BalrogBalls/TimelessUtterances wrote Bumping Exoskeletons for elladansgirl Bird/ingenious_spark wrote Shipwrecked Heart for i_did_not_mean_to BloodwingBlackbird wrote All the snow has turned to water for Azh/AdmirableMonster blueberryrock wrote The ones we hurt for Nuredhel bluehair wrote SERVANT for cloudbower cloudbower wrote Desire path for JazTheBard chrissystriped wrote "I will risk the Wrath of the Valar" for bluehair ♥ chrissystriped wrote In his Light for elladansgirl EclecticKefi wrote A Cold and Uncaring Place for RaisingCaiin Elennalore wrote Lesser Rings, Higher Passions for EclecticKefi Elentarial/BaccaratBlack wrote What These Bones Know for starlightwalking Elio/silverfisting wrote worm moon for Angela/ChillinbytheFire Elleth wrote Spring Feast for thurinngwethil Fey/ThatFeanorian write The Future We Fight For for Mona/queerofthedagger fictional-hr-department wrote Plant me where the red deer feed for Bird/ingenious_spark Gilithlin wrote Coming Home for reindeer_pizza Heather/ohboromir wrote Khajmel for sallysavestheday IDNMT/I_did_not_mean_to wrote Is it love? (When you hold me, when you touch me, it's so powerful) for Ladywithaquill IgnobleBard wrote Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long for Shannon/ElrondsLibrary Jade/Elladansgirl wrote Comfort From A King for  BalrogBalls/TimelessUtterances JazTheBard wrote A Visit to the Forges for Lanthanum12 just_jenni/jenni4765 wrote ON THE STREETS OF TIRION NO ONE KNOWS ANYTHING for a_world_of_whimsy Kit/kitkatkaylie wrote Finrod's Very Cunning Plan To Pull A Luthien for mangacrack LadywithaQuill wrote His Blonde King for fictional_hr_department Lanthanum12 wrote Super Graphic Ultra Modern Girl for NiennaWept Laufey/fullofleaves wrote Occidental Philology for senalishia ♥ lynndyre wrote When I fall and time goes slow for kitkatkaylie maglor-my-beloved wrote Remembrance for Argleena ♥ maglor-my-beloved wrote All that is Gold for elladansgirl mangacrack wrote Wrong Side of Heaven for Elio/Silverfisting Misty/MysticFinde wrote You Will Understand When You're Older for Mawgy

Meredith/Rian wrote The Care and Feeding of Touch-starved Warlords for Fey/ThatFeanorian Mona/queerofthedagger wrote puissance (stay my hand now) for Victoria/0ur_Ouroboros Mouse wrote Two Captains for Tabru Narya wrote Affection for BloodwingBlackbird NiennaWept wrote wrote sweet wine and marble dust for Saint/saintstars Nuinzilien wrote The Power of Persuasion for Blueberryrock Nuredhel wrote For I am thy Lord for Tamatoa/thereisamanmadeofcrabs Pages/Lost_inMiddleearth wrote Been with you such a long time (You're my sunshine) for phyncke RaisingCaiin wrote speak not to me of fine things for Laufey/fullofleaves reindeer_pizza wrote Quality Assurance for steadfastalysanne2022 Saint/saintstars wrote A Way Back to Happiness for maglor_my_beloved sallysavestheday wrote Hear Me in the Song of the Waves for mouse Senalishia wrote Where you go when you're gone for LiselleLascelles Seregons wrote Feathers Fall Slowly for Gilithin Shannon/ElrondsLibrary wrote she hath my love, even through the darkness for Elleth starlightwalking wrote I'm here for ChrissyStriped steadfastsalyanne2022 wrote Sons of the Wilderness for seregons Tabru wrote Tears Unnumbered Ye Shall Shed for Melusine6619 Tamatoa/thereisamanmadeofcrabs wrote Thaw for Elentarial/BaccaratBlack ♥ Tamatoa/thereisamanmadeofcrabs wrote on those cold and star-bright nights for elladansgirl Tethys_resort wrote Patinka for Aglarien thuringwethil wrote take this lonely heart for Pages/Lost_inMiddleearth Victoria/0ur_Ouroboros wrote This shaking keeps me steady (I should know) for just_jenni Whimsy/a_world_of_whimsy wrote Legacy for elennalore

—————

[scyllas-revenge]

20 Questions for Writers

Tagged by @lordoftherazzles and @i-did-not-mean-to (although compared to idnmt's 550+ fanfics this will look pretty sparse XD

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

14! One is a collection of a couple of short fics, the others are all stand-alones.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

204,153

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Tolkien, pretty exclusively. I don't know many other fandoms well enough to be comfortable writing in them for now

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Burn Like Cold Iron takes first place for everything as my only long fic. Then How to Cope with a Middle Earth Bed Shortage, What Could Possibly Go Wrong?, Customer Service, and A Helping Hand.

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! There are a few here and there that slip through the cracks when I just don’t have enough spoons to reply, but I do my best!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I write happy endings as a rule lol, so this is tough. The closest to angst might be Burn Like Cold Iron just because it will have some bittersweetness thrown in alongside the happy ending, but I definitely wouldn't call it an angsty ending.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Considering most of my fic endings are pretty equally happy, my favorite is The Floor Is Molasses, because I just want Boromir to be happy and hanging out in the Shire.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

A few times on FFN in the past. I’ve been lucky enough to avoid it almost entirely on AO3. Which is good bc it does not take much to make me cry 😂

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I have posted one (1) explicit fic and we shall NEVER SPEAK OF IT (I am easily embarrassed and it’s a miracle I posted it at all)

10. Do you write crossovers?

Nooooo, they've always intimidated me. Between all the canon characters and OCs I don't have room for anyone else!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Oof I hope not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I would be honored!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I haven’t done much more than brainstorm with fandom friends about plot points and stuff. But it sounds like fun and I hope I can cowrite something with one of my much more talented mutuals someday!!

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I haven’t been super obsessed with a ship in years, so this is a tough question, especially since I’ve been focused on OC pairings lately. I’ve been pretty into Boromir/Theodred lately (but it’s such a tragic pairing and my poor heart can’t stand it), but hmm...my all-time favorite?? I'm a big fan of Nina and Matthias from Six of Crows, and Katniss and Peeta from the Hunger Games, and OOH Jaime and Brienne from Game of Thrones! There that's the one. All-time favorite. I did it. Phew.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I fully intend to finish my one ongoing WIP, Burn Like Cold Iron, and beyond that I really don’t want to start a fic I don’t think I’ll finish.

But I’ve written bits and pieces of a Middle Earth murder mystery I was really excited about, and I don’t have high hopes for actually fleshing that one out. I’ve never plotted out a murder mystery and would need to do some hardcore planning and plotting and scheming for it first and my brain is just not there right now XD

16. What are your writing strengths?

Aaahhh I am not good at complimenting myself (my therapist made me compliment myself last week and I almost cried lol) but I think I’ve gotten pretty good at writing engaging dialogue. I also am happy with a lot of my OCs, especially in my all-OC fic Something Burrowed, Something Blue, although I want to keep working at developing more complex characters in the future.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My writing speed. I’m so slow. So so slow. Dear lord.

That and detailed plots and worldbuilding. Basically I need to brainstorm more before I start writing, and get a better sense for where things are going and how they'll turn out.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I could probably throw some Italian into a fic without much trouble lol. But Tolkien languages like sindarin honestly intimidate the hell out of me- I will jump through SO many hoops to avoid it. I am a coward

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Warrior cats. I was 12 and submitted it to my English teacher for extra credit. I had no shame 😂

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It’s probably unfair to my other fics to say Burn Like Cold Iron since it’s so much longer than everything else I’ve written. So besides that one, probably What Could Possibly Go Wrong? I had fun exploring different characters’ points of view and sprinkling in lots of foreshadowing and dramatic irony for future plot points.

Tagging: @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book, @hobbitwrangler, @jaimehwatson, @frosticenow, @fishing4stars, @sotwk and anyone else who wants to play!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

So, I did a thing...

Revenge, bitch!

Words: 1k

Warnings: Sadness

Pairing: Gothmog x Eönwë

And here's my fic for @myslashyvalentine, written for @maironite:

Herald, Hero, Muse

Was this what desire felt like? Did he desire the proud fire spirit who was currently sculpting his likeness? What would happen if his fantasy by some miracle became reality?  Though deep down Eönwë knew the answer to that already. Too easily could he imagine himself giving in to Mairon's touch, kneeling on the ground and presenting himself to him in whichever manner he wished, inviting him to explore all of his fána and use it for his own pleasure. 

ʚ Pairings & characters: Mairon x Eönwë, some miscellaneous mentions of other Ainur

ʚ Synopsis: Mairon tries his hand at sculpting and is looking for a model and muse. Eönwë is happy to help.

ʚ Featuring: Eönwë is inexperienced and a sweetheart, pre-corruption Mairon, posing & sculpting

ʚ Warnings: Nudity, sexual content (explicit)

⪼ Read on AO3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Point of no return

As always, there's a birthday fic.

This one has been chosen by my husband from the prompt book he's gifted me. (So it's going on main haha)

And he's chosen Aemond from the HotD fandom.

Pairing: Aemond x OC

Words: 1k

Warnings:none

She was a theatre kid. He was very much not.

In the natural order of things, their paths should never have crossed.

However, he believed in fate, and she had faith in whimsy, so neither one was too astonished when she barrelled into him as she ran along the university hallway.

Running late, as per usual, Nola hadn’t even considered meeting someone else in the near-abandoned building long after classes had concluded.

She knew of him, of course, but they didn’t share any friends or interests, so she wouldn’t have claimed to know the man himself.

When his long-fingered hand shot out to keep her from falling backwards, the world turned upside down in a flurry of sheet music and handwritten copies of lyrics.

He didn’t ask where she was going—he didn’t even cry out in alarm and anger. He just stared at her from the uncannily mismatched eyes that were the subject of so much gossip.

“Oops,” she said automatically, her own gaze taking in the pool of paper at her feet. “I have to run, but…let me buy you a coffee sometime to make it up to you!”

The words had flown out of her mouth like startled birds before their full weight could make it through her thick skull—they were not friends, and she had no right to invite him so brazenly.

“Sure,” he replied in a calm, cold voice. “I’ll hold you to it.”

A shiver of excitement and apprehension shot up Nola’s spine, and she dropped to her knees to scoop up her various notes.

The slight tremor of her fingers was a nuisance, though.

A moment later, his towering frame folded noiselessly like a house of cards collapsing in a flurry of black and white.

“I’m Aemond,” he said as his detestably steady hands closed around a stack of paper resolutely. “You’re auditioning?”

Nola flinched as if caught with her hand in the cookie jar—she was ferociously secretive about the roles she coveted for fear of jinxing her chances, so she didn’t want to discuss these matters with a perfect stranger.

Moreover, Aemond Targaryen, scion of the realm’s most illustrious and morally questionable house, didn’t strike her as the kind of man who’d take an interest in musical theatre and melting love songs.

Shame, really, she thought. He would have made an excellent villain.

Tall and brooding, he had the perfect face—an alluring mix of sharp lines and sensual curves—to give an antagonist depth.

Moreover, she’d always had a secret soft spot for the misunderstood rogue.

“Thank you,” she breathed as he handed her the sheets he’d collected. “Find me then,” she added on a whim, eager to look at him longer and fantasise about all the roles he could so easily fill.

“You’re welcome,” he replied automatically, even though his face betrayed neither warmth nor understanding.

“Intense,” she laughed as his brows furrowed in deep thought. “Be careful your face doesn’t get stuck like this!”

He merely scoffed.

Aemond told himself that it was only natural to at least glance at the sheets he was straightening for the imprudent, insolent creature before him.

If he committed every word and title to memory and, instead of going home as he’d intended, went straight to the library to do some anonymous research, it was due to his natural proclivity for intellectual curiosity and his need to know things rather than a marked interest in the wild-haired, bright-eyed woman who’d invited him for coffee so flippantly.

He’d never been overly fond of musical theatre—his own life was dramatic and tragic enough for him to know for certain that people rarely fell to their knees to sing their hearts out when their whole existence fell to dust and ashes around them.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t rest until he’d unearthed and memorised every single line he’d so fleetingly glimpsed.

Feeling like a hopeless codebreaker, he pored over the words again and again until they were etched into his brain.

From there on out, he started stalking around the auditorium more often in hopes of finding the mysterious songbird.

Aemond wasn’t sure she’d remember him and the silly vow she’d made, but one day, ambling down a rarely used stairwell, he finally heard a silken voice lament the wretched solitude of Éponine.

“Will we ever meet again?” he recited in a muted tone.

A low gasp interrupted the song, and then the woman’s head popped over the railing.

Seamlessly, she transitioned into “Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?” from Phantom of the Opera.

“Stranger than you dreamt it. Can you even dare to look or bear to think of me?” Aemond rejoined, the words flowing like water from his lips as they bubbled to the surface of his mind.

His efforts were rewarded by a brilliant smile. Soon, he heard her light steps racing down the stairs toward him.

“There's something sweet and almost kind, but he was mean, and he was coarse and unrefined. And now he's dear and so unsure. I wonder why I didn't see it there before,” she chirped, cocking her head invitingly as she laid a small hand on his arm as if to retain him.

“She glanced this way, I thought I saw. And when we touched, she didn't shudder at my paw. No, it can't be, I'll just ignore…but then she's never looked at me that way before,” Aemond supplied smoothly.

“You surprise me, Targaryen,” she cackled. “So, do you have time for a coffee?”

He felt as if his spine was about to break as he nodded. “Did you get the part?” he asked as they continued downwards side-by-side.

“Hmmm,” she hummed her affirmation. “Christine Daaé.”

To Aemond’s surprise, she threw her head back and laughed—a full, bewitchingly melodious symphony. “I’d never have bothered with that fool of a Vicomte, of course.”

“Fond of monsters, are you?” Aemond heard himself ask automatically.

“If they know the words…”

[myslashyvalentine]

❤ MSV 2024 Collection is Open!❤

Happy Valentine’s day!

Congratulations to our new writers who completed their first swap! Thanks as well to all our veteran writers who continue to participate and make this swap a vibrant part of the Tolkien community. 

My Slashy Valentine 2024: The Master List!

AdmirableMonster wrote A Light Beneath Frozen Water for JazTheBard

Aglarien wrote Rosemary for Remembrance for Tethys_resort

Aipilosse wrote Star-kissed for undercat

Ally/steadfastalysanne2022 wrote Always Waiting For You Just to Cut to the Bone for AdmirableMonster

Argleena wrote Coming Back to You for Aglarien

Bird/ingenious_spark wrote Knit Together for raiyana

BloodwingBlackbird wrote Winter glowed on her leaves for HewerOfCaves

bluehair wrote Tell Me No for Aipilosse

Branka/LadywithaQuill wrote New Beginnings for senalishia

ChrissyStriped wrote Sharing Everything for Jade/Elladansgirl

cílil wrote Herald, Hero, Muse for Maironite

Cirilla/FakeCirilla9 wrote Falling star for Ally/steadfastalysanne2022

Cissy/Lost_inMiddleearth wrote If I Could Make Days Last Forever for phyncke

Elentarial/BaccaratBlack wrote The Forlorn for bluehair

elfscribe wrote And With Him Was Elrond for tabru

Elio/eliogardens wrote Uprooting for Kay/seregons

Ettelenë/firstamazon wrote Under Unclouded Stars for mangacrack

Fey/ThatFeanorian write With Song Meant Only For You and I for Torpi

forelevenses wrote to be alone with you for Luciann/Lucigoo89

Frances/Melusine6619 wrote Anniversary Celebration for RaisingCaiin

Gilithlin wrote Crescendo for elfscribe

Heather/indestructibleplum wrote Phantom Pains for Nuredhel

Heather/ohboromir wrote Hope for yletylyf

Helholden wrote Under the Stars, Above the Sun for Katrina/lemurious

HewerOfCaves wrote White Daffodil for IDNMT/I_did_not_mean_to

IDNMT/I_did_not_mean_to wrote Mix & Match for Zhie

IgnobleBard wrote Friendship Like The Holly Tree for Marchwriter

Jade/Elladansgirl wrote One Night With A King for Branka/LadywithaQuill

JazTheBard wrote Five Meetings for Ruinel

Katrina/lemurious wrote Fair They Wrought Us for Helholden

Kay/seregons wrote I Pledge My Heart to Thy Doom for sallysavestheday

Kefi/EclecticKefi wrote Our Gentle Sin for Kit/kitkatkaylie

Kit/kitkatkaylie wrote Youthful regrets for Lilithsea

Kristen/Harp_of_Gold wrote day will come for Chrissystriped

likethenight wrote the distraction or the force for Argleena

Lillithsea wrote The King of the Greenwood for Elentarial/BaccaratBlackLithgaeril wrote What to Make of This for Kefi/EclecticKefi

Luciann/Lucigoo89 wrote Two Lives Will Be Spared This Day for octopus_fool

lynndyre wrote There and Back Again for Ignoblebard

maglor-my-beloved wrote Of Farewells for Ettelenë/firstamazon

Maironite wrote Ready To Fall for Cilil

mangacrack wrote the home where I belong the most for reindeer_pizza

Marchwriter wrote All That Is Gold for likethenight

Mawgy wrote To the Victor Goes the Spoils for Gilithlin

NiennaWept wrote peaches we devour, dusty skin and all for thurinngwethil

Nuredhel wrote The flower and the flute for Whimsy/a_world_of_whimsy

octopus_fool wrote Thrush and Stag for lynndyre

phyncke wrote The King's Cabin for Frances/Melusine6619

RaisingCaiin wrote to warm my bed for Mawgy

reindeer_pizza wrote The King's Treasure for Skaelds

Ruiniel wrote Ára for Verecunda

sallysavestheday wrote Let Not My Love Be Called Idolatry for skywardstruck/tomefaired

❤sallysavestheday wrote Op. 1: Serenade for Bow and Axe for red_lasbelin

Senalishia wrote Cut Straight to the Heart for starlightwalking

Skaelds wrote you better not kill the groove for Elio/eliogardens

skywardstruck/tomefaired wrote show me the limits of your deceit for Tathrin

starlightwalking wrote Lazy Day for forelevenses

Tabru wrote Elrond and the King for visitor/lonelyvisitor

❤Talullah Red wrote Snowflight for BloodwingBlackbird

Tathrin wrote A Testing of Wills for Kristen/Harp_of_Gold

Tethys_resort wrote Two in Shadows for NiennaWept

thuringwethil wrote between my fingers, she leaves, then she lingers for  Cissy/Lost_inMiddleearth

Torpi wrote Ripe Fruit for Fey/ThatFeanorian

undercat wrote Comfort from a Heavy Hand for Heather/ohboromir

Verecunda wrote All the Luck in the World for Heather/Indestructibleplum

visitor/lonelyvistor wrote one whole with my other for Lithgaeril

Whimsy/a_world_of_whimsy wrote In the beginning for Cirilla/FakeCirilla9

yletylyf wrote Another Way for Bird/ingenious_spark

Zhie wrote Minuet for Basalt_Serpent

❤Zhie wrote His Father's Son for maglor_beloved

❤ Zhie wrote Very Welcome Visitor for Indestructibleplum

—————

❤ denotes a pinch hit or a treat. Thank you to our pinch hitters, Talullah Red and Zhie; they made sure everyone got a Valentine's Day story (or two). Sallysavestheday also wrote a treat for me!!!

If you need a link to the entire collection, it is right here: 2024 My Slashy Valentine

[laurfilijames]

Lately I’ve been experiencing writers block like never before, so desperately wanting to work on and finish and post my WIPs, but simply not having that urge and ability to actually crack open my laptop and write. I’m constantly battling with myself whether or not I’ll ever be able to write again, or finish my stories, or that if I happen to, that anyone will care.

But thankfully I have some pretty incredible friends, one of them being @i-did-not-mean-to who is forever one of my biggest supporters, confidants, and cheerleaders, who will simultaneously hold me and tell me everything will be fine but also slap me across the face when I’m being too cruel to myself. Once again, she stepped up to the plate, held my hand, took time out of her day to create a “game” to help get me to write; and guess what? I did. No, it wasn’t on one of my current WIPs, but regardless, they are words and they felt good to put down.

I debated sharing, but since I’m really not providing any of you any good reason to follow me lately, here’s 488 words of some moderately smutty and cheeky Fili to inspire our filthy minds.

@i-did-not-mean-to I love you endlessly my selfless, sweet and caring Ori and elf-loving friend. Thank you for being here for me 💗

Ravished and Ravenous

———

Fili tore off his tunic, looking over his shoulder briefly to smirk at you watching the unexpected show of your gorgeous husband, your lips slightly parted, as he hooked his thumbs in the waist of his trousers and slowly slipped them down his vast thighs. He winked at you, his dimples unhidden in his cheeks, and flopped down on the couch, his arm resting up over his head as he put himself on full display to you.

You swallowed the saliva that had accumulated in your mouth from the sight before you as other parts of your body reacted accordingly, and you placed the book you hadn’t been paying much attention to anyway down on the table, standing from the chair you sat on which suddenly was not as comfortable a seat as Fili’s lap.

“Aren’t you going to come see me, Amralime?” he chided with a smug grin, his masterful erection growing by the second as you began to remove your own clothing in a fury.

Despite how heated your skin felt, your nipples hardened as soon as they were exposed to the cooler air of your chambers, and your core throbbed even more when Fili’s cock twitched at the sight of you.

He continued to grin, watching you stride over to him, his confidence radiating onto you as he splayed his legs apart and nodded at his waiting member, giving you a not-so-subtle hint to where you were to come sit.

You leaned down and kissed him, deep and ferociously, capturing his bearded chin with your thumb and finger with a pressure to remind him who was in control despite how disorderly your thoughts were and how easily your body was reacting to his request.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist,” he chimed, but all resolve he had was stolen by you as you moved to straddle him, sinking yourself down onto his shaft. The grin on his face was wiped away and transferred onto yours as he moaned and tipped his head back into the armrest of the couch, his calloused hands running up your thighs to pause as his fingers dug into your flesh.

“Is that so?” you drawled, trying to disguise the shake in your voice as he filled and stretched you more than you thought you could handle.

You smoothed your hands up his torso, your fingers carding through and catching in the thick curls that decorated his body, his laugh rumbling through him which only made more desire bloom in you.

“Yes!” he admitted through a chuckle, his laughter mixing with heaving breaths as your arms stilled to support your body while you hovered over him and began to rock.

“Care to tell me what else you know I can’t resist?”

One of Fili’s eyebrows hooked high on his forehead, seeing the challenge in your eyes as his, once again, reflected with a playful mischief you could never deny.

———

Everything: @guardianofrivendell @midearthwritings @cassiabaggins @lilith15000 @trishthedishofreis @linasofia @unbeatablecurlgirl @the-poldarkian @lathalea @enchantzz @blairsanne @legolaslovely @middleearthpixie @i-did-not-mean-to @sketch-and-write-lover @jotink78 @medusas-hairband

Fili: @shethereadinghobbit @ragsweas @faeriefics

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Hunted H(e)art

My dear friends,

Have a discarded draft for another fic that I'll rewrite and add to as I go along!

I shall not be posting the fic on tumblr, as the chapters tend to be rather long, and I don't want to strain your eyes or overburden your feeds more than necessary.

Anyway, if you want weekly updates to a story combining all my favourite characters and ships, hop on over to Ao3!

Lot of love!

Pairings: Fëanor & Fingolfin, Oromë & Nessa, Amrod & Amras, Aredhel & Galadriel, Maedhros x Fingon, Turgon x Finrod, Celegorm x Curufin, Melkor x Mairon (and some more)

Words: hard to say...20k?

Warnings: Gen chapters, E chapters, hunting, blood, sadness, trauma, sex, incest, the usual

If that sounds like something you'd want to read ⇢

💖Link💖

Chapter 2 (Gen)

Chapter 3 (Celegorm x Curufin)

Chapter 4 (Aredhel & Galadriel)

Chapter 5 (Amrod & Amras)

Chapter 6 (Turgon...x Finrod)

Chapter 7 (Maedhros x Fingon) (explicit)

Chapter 8 (Celegorm x Curufin (x Finrod) ⎮ Galadriel & Aredhel ⎮ Melkor xMairon) (explicit)

Chapter 9 (Maglor & Caranthir)

Chapter 10 (Turgon x Finrod ⎮Finwë, Fëanor, Fingolfin, & Finarfin) (explicit)

Chapter 11 - Finale

Thank you so very much for reading and interacting <3

[i-did-not-mean-to]

MAY-U - Glorfindel x Erestor

This story has been written for @sortumavaara and is accompanied by chibis made by this amazing artist!

Chibi commissions are open!

Characters: Glorfindel x Erestor

Prompts:Neighbours - Locksmith - If you ask me to beg, I'll beg

Words: 2 110

Warnings: a kiss (and potentially criminal activity)

Glorfindel squinted at the door accusingly.

The very next day, he vowed, he’d finally buy a doorstopper to keep those pesky drafts from accidentally locking him out of his flat when all he’d wanted to do was retrieve his mail.

Of course, it might have been a supremely silly idea to do so in the middle of the night, but—being a busy professional—he tended to these domestic chores whenever the thought struck him.

Unfortunately, even the best, most earnest resolutions in the world wouldn’t unlock his undeniably firmly closed front door now.

He considered calling Elrond, but he suspected that he’d gone through all of the seven spare keys his friend had been squirrelling away for emergencies: one, he’d lost at the mall, the other had fallen down an open manhole, two of them were surely somewhere inside his inaccessible apartment, and he couldn’t remember what happened to the others for the life of him.

Maybe, he mused, one was still in the old, battered car he owned but never drove. That sudden burst of inspiration did not help him much either, as the key to that accursed vehicle was in his bathroom drawer, inside his flat.

Fishing his old, battered flip phone, the little battery in the top right corner flickering alarmingly, out of his pocket, he reviewed his options with as much level-headed rationality as he could muster.

He didn’t doubt for a moment that his friends, annoyed and incredulous as they would undoubtedly be, would offer him food and shelter in his hour of need, but the thought of their faces and sympathetic cooing made his blood run cold.

Blowing a stray strand of golden hair out of his face, Glorfindel sagged against the closed door in dismay.

How did this always happen to him?

He was an accomplished ophthalmologist—respected and cherished by his colleagues and patients alike—and yet, he seemed utterly unable to manage something as fundamental as not leaving his flat without a key.

“Hello there, do you need help?”

Glorfindel shot up, banging his head against the doorknob and yelping loudly.

He’d never heard his mysterious neighbour, occupying the flat at the end of the landing, speak this many words in a row. And they were addressed to him!

“I’ve locked myself out,” he confessed in a tiny voice.

“Again?”

Grimacing, Glorfindel brought his hands to his face to hide from the disapproving gaze of the handsome stranger. If even his neighbour, who’d never granted him more than a sharp nod in passing, had caught on to his shortcomings, what were people in general thinking and saying about him behind his broad, muscular back?

“I could help you with that,” the other went on, callously disregarding Glorfindel’s existential crisis in his unshakeable pragmatism. “But you’d have to pay me the common rate for an emergency locksmith.”

That made Glorfindel look up once more; he’d always been so distracted by the darkly magnetic aura of the furtive, slender man with the impressive glower that he’d never stopped to notice that his clothes, while well-tailored, seemed rather threadbare and had been mended with meticulous skill.

The complex they inhabited was far from cheap to live in, and an ungracious but pervasive thought arose in Glorfindel’s befuddled mind: How could this man afford to pay his rent?

As far as he could tell, the mysterious siren with whom he shared a floor and the occasional lift ride went out at all hours of the night, often only returning after morning light when Glorfindel, rising from another night of bleak insomnia, got ready to go to work himself.

“Are you a locksmith?” he asked suspiciously.

“Something of the sort,” the smirking man gave back with a nervous shrug. “I can open your door, right now, isn’t that what matters?”

Glorfindel hesitated for a moment. “What’s your name?”

“Erestor, but don’t worry, there won’t be an official bill.”

The unshakeable sensation of doing something wicked and reprehensible overcame Glorfindel, but he nodded solemnly. “Very well, Erestor. I shall pay you…and I’d like to invite you to stay over for dinner sometime. As a reparation for the time you’ll lose getting me out of this mess?”

Cocking one eyebrow, Erestor moved down the hallway to retrieve his tools from his own flat. “This won’t take all evening,” he said calmly.

“Maybe…it could?” Glorfindel heard himself say in a voice that sounded considerably more suave and confident than he felt.

As soon as he was alone in the hallway again, Glorfindel pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation; his glasses were in the flat and his head had started pounding with a tension headache five minutes ago.

He truly hoped that Erestor would make good on his promise to overcome the treacherous lock quickly.

"You have to move away from the door," a soft, mocking voice resounded.

Glorfindel’s head snapped up, and when he beheld Erestor once more, his tongue went numb in his mouth—he’d tied up his glossy, dark hair neatly and squatted down before the lock, squinting at it in concentration.

The alluring shape of his behind and the elegant curve of his spine didn’t go unnoticed, and Glorfindel desperately tried to redirect his wandering thoughts to something less incriminating.

“Listen, I’m an ophthalmologist—if I can offer my professional services to you one of these days…”

Looking up from his work, his hands enviably steady, Erestor merely cocked one eyebrow. “My eyes are fine, thank you. There just seems to be a considerable amount of lint and other debris wedged into this lock. Do you ever check your key before ramming it into the keyhole?”

Shamefacedly, Glorfindel had to admit that he did indeed not do such a simple inspection.

“I see,” Erestor mumbled distractedly. “No problem!”

His slender wrists were moving delicately until Glorfindel heard the telltale click echoing through the deserted hallway, and his heart sank.

“There we are,” Erestor declared, provocatively pushing open the door and stepping back.

“Do you…want to come in?” Glorfindel asked, all but stumbling over his words.

To his surprise, Erestor seemed to consider his invitation for a few seconds before shaking his head in what looked strangely akin to dismay and regret. “I must be somewhere else. Another time, maybe!”

Softening that ambiguous rejection of Glorfindel’s clumsy advances with a radiant smile, he strode towards the stairwell, tucking his tools surreptitiously under his arm.

Glorfindel threw his suitcase on the bed—he’d only just come home from a symposium about new laser technologies, and he already yearned to be anywhere other than his deserted, slightly disorganised flat.

For three days, he’d been bathed in the company of his peers. At that moment, he’d found them rather dull and boorish, but he now regretted every ungenerous thought bitterly as the gaping emptiness of his own home seemed to expand like a black hole, ready to suck every last drop of light and happiness out of his soul.

Just as he was about to do something laughably dramatic, though, he heard the loose board outside his front door creak treacherously.

Rushing to the spyhole, he was taken over by a recklessly idiotic idea—so much for having overcome that first impulse of madness!

Before he could give himself a moment to think things over, he strode out the door and looked around as if searching for something, pointedly feigning not to notice Erestor standing just outside his own flat.

“I was sure I’ve left it somewhere around here,” Glorfindel mumbled, his eyes glued to the worn carpet, and suppressed a grin as he heard his door clunk shut. “Oh misery!” he exclaimed. “Locked out again! And it’s the middle of the night!”

“I wouldn’t have thought that eye doctors have to work this late,” Erestor commented dryly, gesturing at the long, white coat Glorfindel was wearing and his uncharacteristically neat, smooth hairdo.

“I’ve only just come home from a medical convention,” Glorfindel explained defensively, as he didn’t want the other to get exactly the right impression of what was happening here.

“And, instead of going to bed and resting, you came out here to search for…” Erestor cocked his head quizzically as if it was entirely normal to have vaguely flirty conversations with one’s neighbours in the middle of the night.

“My bag,” Glorfindel replied, trying his best to look appropriately crestfallen. “My medical bag! It was full of goodies too!”

“As I surmise that you’ve been inside your flat already, I dare say that you’ve retrieved your key from said bag and consequently took it in. Do you need help looking for it?” It was evident in Erestor’s tone that he hadn’t in the least bought Glorfindel’s little subterfuge. “I could unlock your door again, and tonight, I have no other plans, so I’d gladly take you up on that late-night snack if you’re not too tired.”

Startled, Glorfindel stared at the apparition in worn grey overalls—had he ever found sturdy work garb to be this attractive before?—partially obscuring a clean, orange button-down until he was sure that his eyes were positively bulging out of his skull.

“Or did you change your mind in the meantime?”

At once, Glorfindel shook his head vehemently, carelessly unravelling his uncharacteristically tidy bun. “By all means, unlock my door and come in!”

All fatigue seemed to have drained out of his system, and he was shifting from one foot to the other impatiently, overjoyed at the prospect of observing those nimble fingers at work again.

Erestor smiled, tapping his skilful fingers against his toolbox playfully, and waited patiently.

“If you want me to beg, I’ll beg,” Glorfindel murmured, suddenly struck with how profoundly unreasonable his whole ploy had been. “I just want to get back into my flat…now more than ever!”

With a breathy peal of laughter, the unorthodox locksmith bent to his task, humming happily under his breath at the sight of the flustered doctor hovering above him.

As soon as the door swung open with a protesting groan, Erestor burst into laughter. “Your pesky bag seems to have hidden in plain sight! It’s right there, in the middle of the foyer, glaring at us!”

Ducking his head in shame at being found out, Glorfindel slunk in and threw an exasperated look into his clean but empty kitchen—he’d not been home, and he knew his fridge to be woefully empty.

“Can I maybe tempt you with delivery food? I’m afraid I don’t have anything edible in the house,” he confessed, avoiding Erestor’s amused gaze.

“Aren’t you a doctor?”

“I’m an eye doctor,” Glorfindel laughed. “And pizza is food for the soul!”

That was a statement with which even Erestor, contrary by nature, couldn’t disagree, so he followed his distracted host into a slightly cluttered living room where he simply halted.

“You may sit,” Glorfindel invited, hoping that he could at least unearth something to drink from the depths of his refrigerator.

“I’m dirty,” Erestor replied.

“Take the overalls off!” Moving towards the kitchen slowly while also refusing to take his eyes off his guest in case he took him by his word, Glorfindel wracked his brain for something smart and charming to say. “Do you also come from work?”

“Something of that kind, yes,” Erestor grinned. The sound of the fastenings of his protective garment coming undone echoed through the tense silence between them, and Glorfindel swallowed thickly.

The need for a beverage was both eclipsed and exacerbated by the revelation of Erestor’s maddeningly form-fitting trousers and impossibly unwrinkled shirt, leaving Glorfindel hovering on the threshold of the kitchen indecisively.

“Are these yours?” Erestor asked with a hint of sharp interest in his voice as he held up a pair of lightweight glasses that had been threatening to slip off the coffee table.

“Hmmm,” humming his embarrassed assent, Glorfindel decided that the refreshments could wait a little longer.

“Very sexy! Put them on for me,” Erestor demanded, getting to his feet and padding over like a sleek predator on the prowl. “I do want you to have all your senses about you when I name my price for my second rescue mission!”

“I thought I’d pay for dinner,” Glorfindel said somewhat sheepishly as he took his glasses and slid them onto his face; Erestor’s impish expression—his twinkling eyes and the tiny wrinkles around his smirking mouth—came into sudden focus.

Before he could dispel the suffocating mist of confusion and desire pervading the room, Glorfindel felt a strong, slightly calloused hand wrap around the back of his neck, and then, warm, soft lips brushed across his own.

“That too,” Erestor smiled. “Later. Much later!”

↬ Masterlist

Thank you so much for joining me on this new adventure.

@fellowshipofthefics here's the last one for May!

Lots of love from me!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

All good things must pass...

This is a treat fic for @samayla for the 2023 @whiteoliphaunt.

Pairing: Thorin x Bilbo

Words: 1 335

Warnings: None

Prompts: Snowed in, gift giving, sharing traditions

“Maybe, we could…” Thorin II, generally called “Oakenshield”, scratched his beard pensively as he looked out on the endless blanket of snow that made it patently impossible to discern the single path leading down from the hidden cave.

“Dear,” Bilbo sighed, his nose twitching in dismay. He opened his mouth to remind his friend and lover of the fact that, despite being an esteemed king and a fierce warrior, Thorin had a pesky tendency to lose his way even at the best of times.

Indeed, the brave Hobbit was far from eager to tumble off a rocky ledge or fall down a ravine that was treacherously obscured by the snow in a ludicrous but eminently tragic accident.

Nevertheless, Thorin seemed so tense and unhappy already that his heart misgave him, and he swallowed his confession of doubt and fear in favour of a more selfless argument.

“I do not doubt that you, your dwarven instincts, and your sturdy boots could find a way down, but I beg you to remember that I am at a distinct disadvantage,” he commented in a soft, pleading voice, motioning at his furry, bare toes.

Of course, this was at least partially disingenuous; Bilbo’s feet were inured to both icy sludge and searing heat, but he could not feel all too guilty for fibbing when he saw Thorin’s eyes light up with relief and tenderness.

“It was such a nice idea to come here,” the Hobbit went on, willing his jaw to relax and suppressing the full-body shivers threatening to ruin his nonchalant delivery of those much-needed, reassuring words of love and support. “I do not mind staying a little longer. Surely, there are more things you can show me in your favourite grotto?”

The smile pulling at the corners of his mouth now was as sunny and genuine as it would have been had they comfortably stood in front of the Great Hall’s roaring fires.

Growing up, Bilbo—as was the wont of his kind—had himself favoured certain flowers, fruits, and trees, and he had never doubted the legitimacy of those instinctive preferences.

Thus, it made perfect sense to him that Thorin—who had only recently returned to his ancestral home—would have treasured places he had not seen for many decades.

It filled Bilbo’s heart with tingling warmth to know that his beloved did not only yearn to spend his future with so unlikely a consort, but that he was also recovered enough from the ordeal of the quest and his almost fatal bout of Dragonsickness to grant Bilbo a glimpse into a long-lost past.

“Did you come here often?” he prompted, threading his stiff fingers into the warm fur of Thorin’s collar and tugging gently to distract the King from his morose musings.

“Not as often as I would have liked,” Thorin admitted. “I was the heir, and my duties lay elsewhere.”

“Shame, it’s so pretty.”

Despite the howling wind and the blistering cold, the small cavern, nestled into the flank of a forlorn part of the Lonely Mountain’s foothills, held a singular, enchanting charm. Even in the chiaroscuro caused by the thick veil of heavily falling snow that was blocking out the daylight, age-old crystals glimmered faintly from the vaulted roof, and Bilbo couldn’t help being reminded of the intricate chandelier he had once seen in the Thain’s house as a fauntling.

“What would you do when you came here then?” His teeth were clacking miserably by now, but he was unwilling to let the conversation die.

With a jolt, Thorin seemed to abruptly snap out of his self-recriminatory reverie and firmly slung his arms around the smaller frame of the one he had chosen to be his partner in all things.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbled under his breath. “I have failed you again! Come here, let me warm you up!”

Opening his heavy coat, he wrapped Bilbo into a cocoon of warmth before settling his bearded chin atop the mop of messy, honey-golden curls with another deep, tremulous sigh.

“I am still waiting for an answer. Did you do frivolous, unprincely things?” Bilbo teased, feeling perfectly at ease now that he was sheltered from the biting cold by the fragrant, comforting bubble Thorin had created for him.

He knew not what expectations the overly serious King entertained within that stubborn, laughably haughty mind of his, but Bilbo himself could not imagine a better place to be during a snowstorm than in Thorin’s arms.

Having lived a solitary life before embarking on his Great Adventure, he was not fazed by the idea of being cut off and isolated—he even sometimes preferred being left alone, and, after the bustling activity of Erebor’s reconstruction and repair, he was profoundly grateful to get a moment of intimacy to simply talk to his husband.

“I…I could show you,” Thorin finally replied haltingly. “Sit over there.”

Shrugging out of his coat, the dwarven king draped it around his cherished consort’s shoulders and padded cautiously to the mouth of the cave.

“It is silly,” he admitted when he returned to where Bilbo sat, huddled against the far wall, and set down a heap of powdery, pristine snow.

Again, the Hobbit pressed his lips together to keep himself from saying something imprudent that would upset or discourage Thorin.

The gleam of pure hope and fond reminiscence in those bright blue eyes was so rare and precious a sight that it didn’t even truly matter if the puerile pastime Thorin was about to share turned out to be truly anodyne or vapid indeed.

Wordless, Bilbo watched as Thorin busied himself around the cave, collecting pieces of fallen crystal and small, iridescent stones to build a miniature of the throne room such as it had been before Smaug had laid waste to his beloved kingdom.

“It’s so beautiful,” Bilbo breathed, as ever fascinated and humbled by the craftiness and skill of the many-layered miracle that was Thorin.

Once upon a time, he had met a disgruntled, distrustful king in exile, and it never failed to awe him when he unearthed pieces of the young dwarf Thorin had necessarily been before everything had been taken from him and his family.

“Funny that you’d escape your princely duties only to recreate the very room you’ve fled,” he added in a light voice.

“Wait…” Thorin cautioned him. “May I ask for one of your cherished handkerchiefs as a sacrifice?”

Without hesitation, Bilbo handed over the worn cloth square, too curious to discover what the other had in mind.

“It’s a poor gift,” Thorin whispered as he extricated a piece of flint from his pocket and set the fabric alight, “because it doesn’t last, but…”

“Hush,” Bilbo interrupted, mesmerised by the dancing shadows and the kaleidoscope of colours the small flame cast upon the domed walls of their little sanctuary. “This is absolutely stunning. I understand why you loved coming here!”

Blushing furiously, Thorin looked up at him from where he knelt on the floor.

“Thank you,” Bilbo croaked, tears of emotion and depthless adoration turning his voice raspier than usual. “We Hobbits love ephemeral beauty; after all, even the most gorgeous flowers die and the most glorious of summers must end.”

Sliding to the floor beside Thorin to hug him to his clenching chest, Bilbo allowed his starry eyes to overflow, trusting that even his tears would be well-guarded and safe in Thorin’s mighty hands.

“You’ve graciously gifted me a fleeting flash of colour and heat to counterbalance the deadly white of this storm,” he breathed into a reddened ear, framed elegantly by silver beads and dark hair, “and you’ve granted me a glimpse of your precious soul’s eternity.”

“The storm has finally abated,” Thorin mumbled sheepishly. “Should we dare the descent?”

“Not yet,” Bilbo replied softly, spreading out the coat he’d been cowering under on the floor. “Let’s stay a while yet and watch the lights dance as if we were alone in the world. We are safe, Thorin. Let’s savour that! Together!”

I hope you'll enjoy this <3

Lots of love from me!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Kinktober 2024 - Intoxicated Sex (Wet dreams & mind control)

@the-red-butterfly, my dear friend...here is another brandnew pairing for me that I've only written for you! Elwing is an Eldritch horror, Eärendil doesnt mind.

Prompts: Intoxicated Sex (Wet dreams & mind control)

Pairing: Elwing x Eärendil

Words: 565

Warnings: Mind control, intoxication of a sort, undue influence, wet dreams. sex dreams

Lulled by the gentle song of the nearby sea, Eärendil slept peacefully until the stars overhead were at their brightest.

Little by little, his dreams shifted from the gentle rocking of the waves to the churning, unchartered depths below.

She was there—she was everywhere. Her face already haunted his every waking moment, and now he couldn’t escape her otherworldly allure even in his most innocent slumber.

In his young life, Eärendil had witnessed and experienced enough incredible things not to be overly fazed by his beloved’s distinctly eerie qualities.

There was a light in her eyes that drew him in like a lost ship following the homing beacon of a faraway island.

Buckling under the burden of his own blood, he understood that Elwing couldn’t outrun her heritage and all it entailed any more than the rest of them.

While he was writhing helplessly under his thin, worn blanket, his mind was led down a tortuous path that shouldn’t even have been accessible to one such as him.

Enmeshed in his subconscious visions, halfway between a nightmare and a fantasy, he saw Elwing—gloriously, unapologetically naked and smiling brightly—flowing around him like the ocean, caressing his calves and thighs playfully.

Like a rising tide, her warmth soon engulfed him to his hips, and Eärendil gasped for air as one fully submerged by the maddening maelstrom of illicit passion.

Flailing and buckling, he lost himself in a dream so vivid, that it could only be due to the uncanny, unfathomable talents of the woman he so desired.

Kneeling beside him on the cold, hard ground, Elwing smiled.

She’d been wrenched from her parents too early to have been warned and instructed about the terrible, sensual power she’d developed after having left behind her childhood in her destroyed native lands.

Consequently, she didn’t hesitate to wield her insidious might ruthlessly, projecting pictures of herself as she yearned to be into the befuddled mind of the hapless sleeper at her side.

The young prince was handsome and kind, and she wanted him.

It pleased her to look upon his flushed face and watch the treacherous stain between his legs grow wider and wetter with every passing moment—he liked the images arising uninvited before his inner eye.

The camp and everyone within was fast asleep, so she undressed quietly and gently pinned his wrists to the soft, mossy soil to keep him from robbing her of her imminent triumph by a desperate, unconscious intervention of his own.

She could feel the intoxicating effect of her trespass course through his veins, making his blood pulsate frantically through his strong body, and she had to suppress a moan of utter delight.

As Eärendil’s eyes flew open to reveal the vague gaze of one in the throes of a mind-altering, disarming influence, Elwing gave him a soothing smile.

“I dreamt of you—you were gorgeous,” he whispered, lifting a trembling hand to her bare chest as if to make sure he was indeed awake now.

Elwing felt the song of the sea and the mellow melodies of the night sky thrum along her nerves as she took hold of the engorged, leaking cock she’d laid bare.

“Thank you,” she purred before letting her heart, spirit, and body be flooded by the subtle magic she’d woven around them.

As they moved under the stars, fate was rewritten by invisible hands.

@tolkienpinupcalendar <3

Thank you so much for reading!

☞ Masterlist

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Silvergifting - March

Written for my dear reader MoonLord :D (again)

Oh, this one is violent and dark. Please be advised!

Prompts: “Look at me! - Sacrifice - Sworn Enemy

Pairing: Annatar x Celebrimbor

Words: 1015

Warnings: blood, torture, sadness, fear, flaying, mutilation, manipulation, cruelty

“Tell me where they are!” Annatar enunciated, a frown forming on his luminous brow.

Something about Tyelpë’s face irked him, and it took a moment for him to understand that his former lover looked positively ugly.

Tired, injured, and visibly terrified, Celebrimbor was far from the suave smith and comely cub that had almost managed to capture Annatar’s petrified heart.

His skin was blotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot as he writhed, naked and sweating profusely, against the cold steel that held him.

In many shockingly dispassionate ways, he reminded his finally revealed enemy of the horses the Children rode into battle, and which ran themselves ragged before being “delivered” by a merciful blade.

For darling Tyelpë, there would, of course, be no such mercy before he’d not given up the secret he so stubbornly tried to withhold from one immeasurably more powerful and terrible than he could even imagine.

By nature and design, Annatar himself had no notion of ugliness—even his unchained anger and boundless hatred only gilded him and, if anything, made him even more unbearably, uncannily beautiful.

Indeed, the flush of ire in his cheeks and the flash of calculating disdain in his eyes only heightened his bewitching pulchritude, and this alone seemed to further distress his headstrong captive if his frantic squirming against unbreakable bonds was any indication.

No, the hideousness of rage and fear was something Annatar had learned and studied throughout the ages.

“Hey, look at me,” he purred, lifting Celebrimbor’s head—lolling feebly to and fro—by the deceivingly tender touch of a single finger. “Tell me where those silly, inconsequential rings you made, according to my design and thanks to my help, are, and I’ll let you go. We could even try to rekindle…”

His lips curled into a petulant moue of displeasure when Celebrimbor gave a raucous, brittle, distinctly derisive chuckle.

“Or not,” Annatar continued smoothly. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you’ve taken them!”

The light—once so compellingly bright and pure—within the young Elf was failing fast now; already it seemed reduced to a single flickering point of defiance within his otherwise dull gaze, and Annatar gave a long, regretful sigh.

“I’ve known your great-grandfather,” he said with an impish smirk. “And your grandfather…and Fëanáro, of course.”

As he spoke, Annatar let his long, slender fingers touch the steel construction onto which he had affixed Celebrimbor’s painfully stretched-out limbs. In honour and mockery of his heritage, Annatar—who had once been Mairon, The Admirable—had returned to his own roots and had handcrafted a beautiful eight-pointed star such as the boy’s grandfather had elected as his sigil.

A muted grunt that Annatar could not quite interpret escaped his captive at that.

“Let it sink in,” Annatar purred. “Understand who and what I am—what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, what terrible and wonderful power I wield!”

Even if the incarnates, quick to forget the lessons their ancestors had carved out of history by blood and suffering, seemingly invariably swallowed his disguise line, hook, and sinker, Annatar remembered everything.

“There is fire in your blood,” he whispered fervently. “It has been kindled within your line long before you were even a distant dream.”

Pressing his lips against Celebrimbor’s sweat-sheened temple, Annatar let some of that life-giving heat he’d carried within himself since before Arda had been created flow into the other’s fading being.

“I can keep you alive.” It was a promise. It was a threat. “I know what you need, and I shall give it to you while stripping you of everything else.”

Again, Celebrimbor merely moaned before clamping his pale, bloodless lips shut.

“As you wish…”

With deliberate, teasing precision, Annatar chose a sharp blade from his collection and made the first cut.

“I’ve perfected this technique on your uncle,” he explained cheerily as he splayed a warm, soothing hand against the concave, trembling stomach of his doomed paramour. “He was also such a sacrificial fool.”

As he meticulously severed ligaments and detached muscles, Annatar let his supreme energy flow in a steady, sustaining stream into Celebrimbor’s agonised body.

“He wouldn’t give up his secrets either,” he muttered, still peeved at the recollection of Maedhros’s laughable obstinacy. “Much good it did him.”

“He lived.”

“Not for long.”

Celebrimbor, even as he was divested of his pristine skin piece by piece, had the nerve to utter another guffaw that echoed like a scream through the empty chamber.

“You know nothing about time,” he ground out. “And you shall never learn where the rings are.”

“You’ll die a terrible death,” Annatar prophesied darkly.

The almost pitying gaze the moribund Elf gave him made the unveiled Maia bare his teeth in frustration.

“And I thought you knew my family,” Celebrimbor hissed. “As ever, you overestimate yourself. I am undaunted.”

For a while, Annatar continued his gruesome work in sullen silence. He kept that flayed grotesquery of his own making suspended on the very edge of death as he peeled back the layers of his beloved Tyelpë to reveal his sworn enemy.

That last insult had hit him harder and wounded his pride deeper than he’d anticipated, especially seeing the unequivocal power dynamic in which they presently found themselves.

Despite his instinctive reluctance, Annatar searched his near-perfect memory for hints and clues.

There were many things for which these pesky incarnates would die gladly, and he couldn’t decide which one was at stake presently.

Could it be a home Celebrimbor had never really had since leaving the Blessed Realm?

The idea of another lover was so outrageous that Annatar discarded it instantly—it was inconceivable to him that any other being, no matter how handsome or kind, might have eclipsed him in Tyelpë’s affections.

Family. The certainty hit the malicious Maia like his former Master’s icy breath—if there was one thing that turned even the most loquacious of Elves into unmoving stone, it surely was the safety and happiness of their kin.

“They’re all dead,” he spat distractedly.

“Well,” Celebrimbor breathed faintly. “Then the rings are lost, and you shall never retrieve them!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me!

@fellowshipofthefics Here's a really dark one one!

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Dear @sunnyrosewritesstuff, your esteemed sibling seems to be labouring under the misapprehension that I am actually good at writing LOL

You and @lordoftherazzles must not tell tall tales! lol

But, as you've tagged me...I'll give you my last 6-ish sentences (on a Monday though)

“Sorry,” Thorin said aloud, though it was not entirely clear whom he was addressing. “I was lost in my thoughts. You were talking about food and clothes, yes? I am afraid that I am not much of an expert in either domain.” Patting her mouth daintily to hide her smile, Fenca let the long-awaited sense of comfort and joy delude and seduce her into speaking her mind with dangerous, merciless rashness. “Methinks,” she chuckled, “that you’d be better served by marrying Bilbo here, who seems to not only be well-informed but also highly interested in the intricacies of political and socio-economical plots such as they occur in this kingdom.” As soon as the words had left her mouth, she gasped, the obligatory flurry of apologies and deflections dying on her paralysed tongue as she saw the King’s eyes bulging and Bilbo grow ashen pale.

:D

Thank you for the tag, and open tag for anyone else who wants to share something nice with us!!!

Six Sentence Sunday

And I actually managed to hold onto this til Sunday. 😎 Thank you for the tag @lordoftherazzles.

Rules: Make a new post and share six sentences of an upcoming WIP. Then tag some friends!

How about six sentences from Soul Traitor because I ACTUALLY HAVE BEEN WORKING ON IT!! 🤩

Gandalf hesitated for a long moment, unsettling him a fair bit, before he finally answered in a soft tone. “Erebor.” Bilbo felt his entire body seize as he coughed out the bit of pipe smoke that went down wrong. When he could finally breathe again, he noticed his hands shaking on the pony’s reins. All those years pouring over maps with his father came flooding back. Oh yes, he knew where Erebor was all too well. More importantly he knew what it was.

Tagging: @fantasyinallforms @conkers-theficwriter @mordellestories @mulasawala @frosticenow @i-did-not-mean-to

[i-did-not-mean-to]

The curse of being loved

This ficlet is my peace offering to @sortumavaara.

I have not forsaken your blorbo. I swear... I'm just not good at writing him lol

@elanna-elrondiel you wanted to be tagged. @cilil this is your fault for enabling and encouraging me!

Characters: Elrond, Elros, Elwing, Maglor, Maedhros

Words: 1,5k

Warnings: Sadness, Eldritch powers, kids are creepy, self-realisation, murder, canonical slaughter, canonical kidnapping

The first language Elrond had ever heard was the breathless cries of amazement and captivation at perceiving him, and he’d understood it at once even though he didn’t yet comprehend the power inherent to that instinctive reaction of bone-deep awe.

As was expected and natural, he was loved and cherished by his parents, and, if he noticed that their level of watchfulness went beyond that of others, he did not think anything of it.

Why would he have? He’d never known any other way of being treated.

Likewise, he’d never really questioned the strange appeal he and Elros seemed to hold for almost any other adult in the dismal camp of refugees. They were twins, a two-pronged beacon of life and hope, and it made sense that those who’d previously suffered such pains and deprivation would feel inexorably drawn to the soft, open faces of young children.

Elrond was aware that—in a world full of lurking danger and dark doom—he was vulnerable and precious to the adults in his life, not least because of the importance and wisdom of his genitors who were still utterly besotted with his charming smiles and pleading glances.

As time went by, though, he soon learned how to capitalise on that undeniable weakness in that self-forgotten, profoundly selfish way that was typical for toddlers.

Thus, he observed the reactions of those surrounding him with dispassionate curiosity, adjusting his mannerisms and voice in a myriad of discreet, nigh-imperceptible ways to consciously exacerbate the strange, alluring, corrupting effect he had on people.

In time, and almost despite himself, he started to tilt his head in a way that made his eyes gleam and his skin appear fragile and translucent like the finest porcelain, having ascertained through trial and error that this made it patently impossible for anyone looking at him to avert their eyes or deny him even the most outlandish request.

Barely out of infancy, he was continually perched on someone’s arm like a wondrous bird wrought of unconfessed wishes and stardust—back then, he was blessedly ignorant of his own lineage and the terrible might it conferred to him, and he shamelessly basked in the attention and admiration with which he was unceasingly showered.

Slowly but obdurately, all his motions grew thoughtful and elegant long before other children his age had outgrown the phase of rambunctious chaos, and yet, neither he nor his brother was ever truly ostracised or mocked by their peers for their peculiar charm that invariably turned rational sages and ferocious warriors into blabbering fools.

They were loved by all they met, and they hadn’t yet made any experience that would push them to worry about something as self-evident and wholesome as the simple fact that people seemingly never grew tired of watching them play or listening to them talk, no matter the subject and its relative importance.

Growing older and fairer with every passing day, Elrond before long was overcome with the unshakable sensation that the people around him drew an unfathomable, indescribable sense of soothing and even healing from their every interaction with him, and so he pushed aside his nascent qualms at having praise and gifts bestowed upon him without measure or restraint.

Still, he felt adored, respected, and valued in his community, and he began to feel responsible for those who had taken such generous care of him in return. When he grew to his full strength, he vowed, he’d prove himself worthy of all the affection that had been heaped upon him for as long as he could remember.

One fateful day, though, their mother—in their father’s absence—threw herself into the arms of the sea, desperate tears channelling her bright gaze into a deadly beam of cutting devastation that would sunder her from her sons forever.

Elrond was too stunned to even cry out—he didn’t understand. How could a woman whose very purpose in life had been to coddle and adulate her sons do something so cruel and reckless?

Of course, he did not get the time to further muse about these confusing, contradictory truths in peace, though, as a stranger approached him, his long-fingered hands extended as if to promise with his whole body that he meant him and his brother no harm.

Was it instinct or habit, Elrond would never be able to determine later on, but, abandoned by his father and bereft of his mother, he shamelessly angled his face upwards to catch the flickering light of his childhood being put to the torch in his wide, wet eyes.

Robbed of all his anchor points, he fell back on the hitherto unquestioned, flawlessly reliable magic that coursed through his veins—pushing Elros behind him, he moulded himself into the most appealing version of himself to cow the ominous, looming threat by innate enchantment alone.

The stranger chuckled softly. “I used to do that,” he confessed in a soft, melodious voice that seemed to chime like a thousand golden strings. “Nelyo was always the pretty one, but I was ever able to coax and coerce people by a mere glance or a whispered word.”

Elrond flinched back as if struck. Why did this atrocious confession echo through his whole being, sending nauseating waves of shame and guilt crashing into his soul?

There was something so callously, insultingly veracious in that careless quip that Elrond felt his mask of puerile purity slip, revealing the deep-felt shock and sudden fear lurking underneath to the merciless stare of the murderous intruder.

“You truly are of Melian’s blood.”

Frowning, Elrond shook his head in a vain attempt to dispel the gossamer threads of dark and dangerous magic the man’s voice wove around his frantic mind, choking all sense of self-preservation and caution out of it mercilessly.

“Who are you?” he asked, feeling Elros’s cold hand press against the small of his back as if to encourage him or hold him back.

The fearsome foe hesitated for a heartbeat. “Maglor,” he then sighed. “Call me Maglor.”

At once, Elrond pounced on that minuscule mellowing. Stepping forward fearlessly, he put out his slender, tiny hand and conjured up his most enthralling, hypnotizing smile. “I’m Elrond, and this is my brother Elros. You wouldn’t harm us, would you?”

Wearily, Maglor—who was drenched in blood and covered in mud and miserable memories—let go of his blade and wiped his pale, empty palm across his sweat-sheened brow. “No,” he finally grunted. “I know not whence the spell you’ve put upon me has issued, and I like it not to find such power in one so young, but I admit that all bloodlust has drained from my heart. Come away, there is nought here for you but death and starvation.”

“You hexed him,” Elros whispered as they were led out of the camp. “There comes another one, can you do it again?”

In truth, Elrond was shaken to his core. After a bountiful childhood at the bosom of his parents’ people, he now came to understand that he wielded a fearsome and potentially perilous power.

He yearned to seek out his mother’s wisdom or his father’s stalwart support, but he knew not where they were, and he doubted that he’d ever be reunited with them.

Too many epiphanies—much too weighty and woeful for a mere child to fully fathom—hit him at once, and he longed to curl up in the warm, protective arms of those who’d gathered around his bassinet and his naïve games to cheer and comfort him at every turn.

From the foul fumes of burning wood and smouldering stone emerged a figure—tall and stiff as a moving tree—and Elrond closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recall every single instance in which he’d tricked someone into giving him an undeserved treat or forgiving a careless trespass upon their peace and property.

“Káno, what do you think you’re doing?” the newcomer rasped impatiently.

“Speak to the child,” their new minder, already half won over, replied in a clipped voice that turned his words into a hailstorm of icy shards. “You’ll see that I had no choice in the matter.”

With a scoff, the red-haired demon turned and stalked away.

“He’s afraid of your talents,” Elros cheered under his breath, and Elrond let him believe that the battle he was about to fight without even knowing his weapons was already won.

He’d have but little time to become consciously aware of his skills and hone them sufficiently to save their lives, but he’d not burden Elros with the devastating knowledge that they’d be on their own and at the mercy of their parents’ enemies henceforth.

When Maglor turned to lift his orphaned captives into his unyielding arms, Elrond leaned his soft cheek against the worn, dirty fur collar of his cloak in a gesture reminiscent of a defenceless kitten, seeking shelter and warmth.

“Leave it to me,” he whispered. He’d not only make these murderers spare their lives—he’d make them love him.

Again, this was an attempt at breaking me out of my writer's block, so there is no event, no Masterlist, no context...

Lots of love from me!