#...it is Gondor that calls right | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

himbosandhardwear · 11 months ago

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Steddie I Different First Meeting I NSFW I Public Indecency I 2.8k words

He's planted. Call him The White Tree of Gondor, he's so planted. Nothing and no one could move him from this spot.

He's going to have perfect line of sight to center stage, as long as no one over 6’3” stands in front of him. He's got his good boots on, giving him a solid three inch lift.

Some people come and go, not as dedicated to keeping their spot. Not Eddie. He's planted.

“You think he moved back?” Some chick yells behind him.

“Doubt it,” her companion yells back, “the point was to get closer.”

“Well I don't know if I can deal with closer. It's only going to get worse when the band goes on, and I'm at my limit for men touching me today.”

“I'm pretty sure there's beer in my hair.”

“A fate worse than death,” she mocks him, making Eddie chuckle. “You wanna bail? He can come find us after.”

“I don't know, Rob, he's just a kid. What if he gets scared?”

“Oh my god, he's sixteen.”

“He's short!” The guy yells shrilly, practically in Eddie's ear. “No way he can see over top everyone's head.”

“Okay, then you stay, dingus. I'm going to go pay $12 for a bottle of water. Come find me after.”

“Rob! C'mon, don't- Rob! Ah shit.”

Eddie almost turns to give the guy some reassurance but he can't, making friends in the crowd is how you end up getting pulled into another direction. He can't chance it. He's planted.

Not to mention his friend was right, the more time that passes, the more packed in they become. Once or twice the guy behind him gets jostled into Eddie's back, mumbling apologies each time. Eddie doesn't bother to reply.

He's determined to ignore the guy until suddenly they're pressed front to back, shoulder to calf, the guys massive hands wrapping solidly around Eddie's waist so they don't fall down, and he's fucked. Suddenly the guy behind him is all he's thinking about.

Of course this turn of events sends the poor guy into apology overdrive, hands ripped back immediately as he stutters his excuses.

Eddie waves it off, still not turning away from the front, but the urge is strong. He kind of needs to see if the guy is as hot as that ten second press against him would suggest. Christ on a bike, he even smells good. At least Eddie is pretty sure that's him, the pine/sugar/sweat combo.

A glance at his watch tells him they've got maybe another ten minutes until the show starts. Five minutes ago that would've been all he would've cared about but now he's got Hot Boy Brain Rot and can't focus.

Which is why the next time they get pushed together, Eddie does absolutely nothing to help correct, he lets the guy pull him back and very nearly fall flat on their asses. The only reason they don't is because they fall into the people pressing forward.

“I swear to god, I'm not doing this on purpose,” the guy says with a chuckle that warms Eddie’s already sweaty skin. He hasn't let go yet, his enormous hands hold Eddie upright, skin on skin where his shirt has been cropped.

He's lost his mind completely, because he puts his own hands on the ones circling his waist and squeeze, a soft acceptance of their predicament. It could mean nothing if the guy is straight - maybe, probably, he's not good at judging that sort of thing - but if the hot guy standing behind him is in any way interested, he'll understand.

And praise Dale, raise hell, he does! Long fingers tighten, slide, tighten, before letting go again. He's pretty sure the guy just stuck his thumbs into the indents at the top of his ass too.

Which is when he realizes there's a not zero percent chance the guy thinks Eddie is a girl.

He forgot he's wearing a kilt, which idiots seem to think is a skirt 70% of the time he has it on. Combining that with his hair being down and the fact that he hasn't turned around at all… Fuck.

You're 6’2” right now. Maybe that's enough of a hint. Or your hairy legs? No, it's way too dark to see that far down, no way he-

Eddie squeaks as the guy runs a finger tip along the edge of the kilt. Luckily, it's too loud for the sound to travel, that would've been devastating.

The guy leans forward and whisper/yells, “Is this okay?” into his ear.

Eddie nods, takes a miniscule step back, bringing himself closer. He's gonna take this as far as he can before they either get kicked out for indecent acts or the guy realizes what he's doing and bashes Eddie for ‘tricking him.’ The smart thing to do would be to fucking turn around and confirm his stupid gender but… it's nice feeling wanted for a moment. Nice enough for whatever the consequences are.

An arm snakes around his middle, a fucking nice arm, all sinewy and freckled and brown, causing a surge of giddiness. They're pressed together again, this time on purpose. The guy seems to instinctively know Eddie has this spot picked out because he doesn't let anyone push them or get between. He does, however, laugh every time they get jostled closer together. It's infectious too, makes him smile along every time he hears that giggle. If the guy doesn't stop being adorable soon, Eddie is gonna fall in love.

Whoops. Too late. There's an enormous cock pressed up against his ass; any semblance of control or ability to play it cool goes right out the window.

He's never been more proud of himself for taking up street hockey with Jeff and his cousins than this moment. Some asshole had said to him, years ago now, ‘No one wants a bottom with a flat ass,’ and Eddie let that settle into a deep seated neurosis that pushed him into sports. Casual sports, that actually turned out to be pretty fun, but still…

Anyway, he's got an ass worth pushing against now, which is doing fantastic things for the whole ‘accidently luring a stranger into simulating sex acts at a concert' thing he's got going on.

Good god are they playing with fire right now. Yeah everyone is distracted by the drum tech setting up but it's not like they're invisible here. The guy to Eddie's left is just as close as the one rubbing off against his ass, if he glances down he's gonna see what they're doing. That thought only brings Eddie closer to finishing, untouched, in his underwear. His own erection is being held down by his boxer briefs, which are always a good choice when wearing a kilt. Shit happens in the pit, he's never been keen on flashing his bare ass to everyone if he takes a header.

He's snaking a hand down, trying to be subtle, but he needs to squeeze his dick or he's going to start crying.

His new friend must catch the movement because his right hand follows the trajectory, sliding right along with Eddie’s, until they're both stalled out, cuping his hip instead of his erection. Eddie thinks about passing out, he's so turned on and terrified. Either the guy knows he's about to touch a human penis or he's about to get an unwelcome surprise.

Before Eddie's heart can explode and kill him, three things happen rapid fire:

The lights go completely dark, signifying the start of the show, which makes the already packed stadium lose its collective shit.

Then there's a call from behind, the dreaded, “Heads up!” Eddie only just manages not to burst into tears as his one true love has to let go to support the weight of the asshole crowd surfing above them. He makes sure to pinch the fucker as he takes the weight of his stupid leg as it goes by.

Then, immediately after, there's another crowd surge as the first lick of Blackened rings out around them. Adrenaline pumps through Eddie like a lava flow, two desires waring within him making it impossible to choose. Does he turn to find the man of his dreams or does he stay the course and watch the greatest metal show of all time?

Considering this is the third time he's seen Metallica live, he turns around.

He's gone. The only people behind him now are two chicks with their tits painted white and gold and a middle aged biker.

Awesome.

He keeps looking but no one near fits the right description, not even close. Why the fuck didn't he turn around and just look at the guy? At least then he'd know who to look for after the show.

It's not like his night is completely ruined or anything. He jumps in the closest pit and takes his disappointment on the poor bastards unlucky enough to crash into him, and he has a splendid time with that. It wasn't his original plan, he wanted to stay center stage and actually watch the show this time, but he's too keyed up to stand still now, better to shove his fellow man and get elbowed for his troubles.

By the time James is wailing out the final insane notes of Battery, Eddie is thoroughly beat. It's a slog getting to the back of the stadium but he's determined to beat the crowd to the pissers. The night was fun and all but he's ready to go. Ready to stick his hand down his pants(kilt), relive the oddest and hottest encounter he's ever experienced, and then forget it ever happened.

He's made it as far as the merch line when a familiar voice yells his name. He looks back and sure enough, Dustin Henderson is waving at him like a semaphore code operator. Goofy ass kid, Eddie loves him to death.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asks after giving him a back slapping hug.

“Surprise early birthday gift, I didn't know until yesterday or I would've told you.” His whole body is thrumming with excitement. It must be his first metal show. You wouldn't know it to look at him, he's got a whole mini-Eddie thing happening, which is adorable.

“That's awesome, dude. You didn't want to stay till the end?”

“I already saw their setlist and calculated the timing just right to get in line before the crowd let out.” Of course he did. “What about you? Taking off?”

“Yeah, I've had…a weird night. Good but weird.”

“You wanna ditch in line? Looks like they still have plenty of T-shirts available.”

He laughs. “Nah, thanks though. I'm just gonna head home. I'll see you Saturday?”

“Totally, wouldn't miss it-”

“There you are! Jesus, Henderson, I thought I lost you. Your mom would kill me if something-”

The guy finally stops bitching but only because he's staring at Eddie like he's seen a ghost.

“Uhh,” Eddie drawls, confused.

“Steve! This is Eddie! You know, from Hellfire, at Tech.”

It would be appropriate for them to shake hands, he thinks, but the guy is just staring at him, going more and more red as the seconds pass. It's a good thing he's pretty because his social skills could use some work.

“Hey dingus, did the beer in your hair finally soak into your brain.” The woman standing to Steve's left knocks on his forehead with a knuckle, making him flinch.

“You guys okay?”

Eddie is too busy being strapped into a roller coaster of emotion to respond to Henderson’s quiry. It can't be this easy, fate has never been this kind or cruel to Eddie, not at the same time. His dream man can't be Dustin's babysitter/big brother Steve. That guy drives a BMW and listens to Supertramp, which he only knows because he followed Dustin out to the parking lot one night. Except, Steve is gorgeous and fun and a good dude who worries about his kids, and is smoking hot.

He knows Steve knows he knows now, his own face has gone beet red, and they're just staring at each other, like some kind of gorgon in a bathroom mirror situation.

“What is this? Why are you being weird?” Steve's girlfriend - Rob? - asks. “Wait, oh my god, is Dustin’s other dad, your imagined arch nemesis, the Guy in the Crowd? Holy shit, he totally is, what are the fucking odds!” She cackles.

Wait. He told her about that? And he knew I'm a guy? And he thought we were nemesis? That's so hot.

Dustin is going on about Steve's apparent low self esteem and how Steve needn't worry about his loyalty and how he loves them both equally, which is sweet, but he and Steve are still just staring at each other.

“I know a good diner around here,” he blurts out when Dustin finally shuts up. “They have all you can eat pancakes.”

Steve's eyes do something devastating, adjacent to cows touching grass for the first time. “I like pancakes.”

“Let's get pancakes.”

“Okay.”

They start walking away, dazed, until Dustin reminds them of his presence, loudly and with much insult. “Steve! You drove us here!”

“Shit.” He turns back. “Right. Sorry. C'mon, we're getting pancakes.”

Dustin looks to Rob, as if to say, ‘What the fuck is going on?’ She replies back with a sort of ‘I don't get paid enough to explain this to children’ and ‘I know, he's hopeless but we love him’ both kinda look.

“What?” Steve asks.

“I'm still in line, dude. I want a T-shirt.”

“But-”

“No buts!” Dustin screeches. “Pancakes can wait!”

Eddie wishes they would figure it out soon, he still has to piss.

Rob, bless her, she's Eddie's new best friend, takes Dustin under her arm and asks Eddie, “Where's the diner?”

“25th and Dudley Ave. Called Roxy's.”

“Got it. Go on, I'll bring your son after he's got his stupid shirt.”

Dustin is the epitome of disbelief. “What! No! Guys, don't leave me with Robin!” He yells, to which Robin responds by putting him in a headlock.

“Go! Run before he figures out what's going on.”

Steve doesn't need to be told twice, apparently, he grabs Eddie's wrist and yanks him toward the exit doors. It’s exciting, running away with Steve, even though they’re only running from Dustin. Still, it leaves them both breathless by the time they get to the end of the block, both laughing about how ridiculous it all is.

“God. Haven't run like that since…well the last time the cops were after me.”

Steve just grins, hands on his knees, looking like a former athlete, all deep breaths and physical therapy style stretching. Fucking hot jocks, ugh.

Eddie wants to mount him.

Which brings them up to the awkward part: acknowledging what happened.

Steve braves it first. “Hey, I, uh, I don't want you to think I go around doing shit like that.”

Eddie, ever the opportunistic asshole, says, “Shit like what?” When Steve's face falls to horror, perfectly timed, and Eddie loses it. “I'm kidding, sorry, I'm just fucking with you. It was definitely me.”

“Dick,” Steve says but he's laughing.

“Yeah, that's me.” They sort of instinctively move away from the street, closer to the less busy side storefronts. “In the interest of honesty, I should tell you, I wasn't entirely sure you knew I wasn't a girl, that's why I sort of hesitated right there at the end, before we got separated.”

Steve looks baffled. “Huh?”

“You know.” He waves at himself. “From the back I could be a tall chick. Cause of the kilt and the hair and everything.”

He shakes his head. “Dude, I saw you from like four rows back. Why do you think I stopped where I did?”

Fuck. Okay. That's…awesome. He jams a whole fistful of hair against his face.

“Also, even if you had turned out to be a tall chick, not a deal breaker. You're fucking hot either way.”

“Okay, Romeo, cool it with the compliments before I make you finish what you started right here.”

Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that smirk should be illegal.

“Right here against the jewelry shop window? I'm not opposed.” Eddie very seriously considers the pros and cons of that but before he finishes, Steve laughs. “Better not. I was promised pancakes. And Lord have mercy if Rob and Henderson get there before we do.”

He's right. God dammit.

“Fine but for the record, which I feel goes without saying, I do put out on the first date.”

Steve laughs. “Never would've guessed.”

By the time they get to Roxy's, Steve has his arm around Eddie's waist, pinkie tucked deep into his kilt.

#dustin: this steve hes my babysitter and he DROVE ME HERE #steddie #meet cute?#anonymous grinding #ficlet #my writing

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pretty-hills-i-die-on · 2 months ago

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Fellowship Shenanigans

Please Put All Personal Items in the Box

Hama (one of the dudes incharge in Theoden's court): You must all leave your weapons here.

Legolas: Sure, but be careful, they are from the Lady of Lothlorien herself.

Hama: Oh wow, geez, ok.

Aragorn: Yeah, I’ll pass.

Hama: Yeah, not an option.

Aragorn: I’d LIKE to and I WOULD, except this sword is Anduril, and I will not part with it.

Hama: Nice name, still need the sword.

Aragorn: And why should the Word of Theoden, son of Thengel, count higher than that of Aragorn, Elendil’s heir and the rightful king of Gondor?!

Hama: …

Hama: You are aware this is HIS house though, right?

Aragorn: Do I look like I care?

Hama: Mate, I’m just trying to do my job.

Aragorn: So am I, except my job often involves stabbing things on short notice, you see the problem here?

Hama: There are literally ten armed guys in this room alone, and heaps more where they came from. What are you going to do, fight us all?

Gimli: With me by his side!

Gandalf: Now now! There’s no need for that, Aragorn, put the sword down. Hama, you may have mine. Glamdring it is called, for the Elves made it long ago. Come Aragorn.

Aragorn: Fine. Though I command you not to touch it, nor permit any man to lay a hand upon it. In this Elvish sheath lies the Blade that was Broken and has been made again. Telchar first wrought it in the depths of time. Death shall come to any man that draws Elendil’s sword except Elendil’s heir.

Hama: …

Gimli: And here’s my axe, it doesn’t have a name because I am in fact a normal person.

Hama: That makes two of us. Mithrandir?

Gandalf: Oh no, you could hardly part a man from his walking stick, could you?

Hama: Yeah, but you’re a wizard though-

Gandalf: We all have something too dear to trust to another.

Hama: See, that only makes me think it’s magic more-

Gandalf: You would hardly part an old man from his walking stick?

Hama: You’re a wizard-

Gandalf: I thought I was a foolish omen of doom?

Hama: Mate, I ain’t in charge of propaganda, just give me the staff-

Gandalf: I’m not moving without my walking stick.

Hama: Oh for the love of- I don’t get paid enough for this. Fine, whatever, just go in.

Gandalf: Thank you! *walks in perfectly fine*

Aragorn under his breath: Damn show off.

Hama: I am sooo getting fired.

#remember when this happened?#this is basically a quotation #Aragorn chill #your sword will be fine #aragorn #gandalf #lotr #lord of the rings #lotr funny #the two towers

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mariuspompom · 1 year ago

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George Martin, 2013: "In a very basic level winter is coming for all of us. I think that’s one of the things that art is concerned with: the awareness of our own mortality. “Valar morghulis” – “All men must die”. That shadow lies over our world and will until medical science gives us all immortality… but I don’t think it makes it necessarily a pessimistic world. Not any more pessimistic than the real world we live in. We’re here for a short time and we should be conscious of our own mortality, but the important thing is that love, compassion and empathy with other human beings is still possible. Laughter is still possible! Even laughter in the face of death… The struggle to make the world a better place… We have things like war, murder and rape… horrible things that still exist, but we don’t have to accept them, we can fight the good fight. The fight to eliminate those things.There is darkness in the world, but I don’t think we necessarily need to give way to despair. One of the great things that Tolkien says in Lord of The Rings is “despair is the ultimate crime”. That’s the ultimate failing of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, that he despairs of ever being able to defeat Sauron. We should not despair. We should not go gentle into that good night".

JRR Tolkien, 1962 : "One reviewer once said, this is a jolly jolly book, all the right boys come home [...]- this isn't true of course, he can't have read the story. [...] Human stories are practically always about one thing, really, aren't they? Death. The inevitability of death. . . . . . (He quotes Simone de Beauvoir) 'There is no such thing as a natural death. Nothing that ever happens to man is natural, since his presence calls the whole world into question. All men must die, but for every man his death is an accident, and even if he knows it he would sense to it an unjustifiable violation.' Well, you may agree with the words or not, but those are the key spring of The Lord Of The Rings".

"Lotr is all rainbows and unicorns and Asoiaf is nihilistic and grimdark". Wrong, and wrong. In all its hope and radiance, lotr often gets very dark, and despite all the death and suffering, the hopeful moments in asoiaf shine bright. The meeting point of these two is this: having hope while in despair, and even better, refusing to give up because you have to go on despite not having any hope left.

#the fact that in possibly his most famous interview tolkien literally quotes 'all men must die' LIKE #GEORGE #I SEE U #you have studied the Professor really hard grandpa just speak your truth free urself!#don't get me wrong for me the Professor will always and forever take precedence there is absolutely no question about it BUT ALSO #stop pitting two bad bitches against eachother!!#i think about all of these a normal amount #and this is why i'll never lead a normal life #ridiculously long post #i must say i cried a little when i read them all back to back #especially the last sam quote #lotr #valyrianscrolls #tolkien #tolkien quotes #asoiaf quotes #lord of the rings #the hobbit #aspa reads tolkien #aragorn #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #bilbo baggins #brienne of tarth #jon snow #jaime lannister #bran stark #daenerys targaryen #lotr x asoiaf parallels

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rottencherrypie · 6 months ago

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R-18+; Beneath the Stars (Aragorn x Reader)

Summary - A woman draped in cloth cut from the night sky, an awestruck ranger admiring from afar, and a bet between elven royals—what could go wrong?

Warnings - Smut, language, afab!reader, fem!reader, mention of alcohol (poorly written), poorly written dancing (I do not know how to dance), woodland elves getting crunk (they know how to party), heavily implied marriage (Aragorn and Reader), heavily implied wife!Reader, heavily implied husband!Aragorn, simp!Aragorn (man loves his betrothed), mention of bets (Legolas and Arwen), nonsexual tension (Legolas and Arwen—they just want to win the bet), heavy dom/sub undertones and dynamic, sub!Aragorn, dom!Reader, heavily alluded worshipping kink (Aragorn is just a simp), unprotected sex, mention of a womb (reader), mention of female genitalia (reader), mention of male genitalia (Aragorn), handjob (Aragorn receiving), lowkey humiliation kink (Aragorn having), degradation (Aragorn receiving), poor attempt at dirty talk, name calling (Aragorn is called a dumb whore), reader is called mistress and goddess, slight mean reader (but in a hot way), hair pulling (Aragorn receiving), semi-public sex, creampie, and maybe more (I might have missed a few things).

Pronouns & POV - She/Her, third-person (starts more Aragorn leaning)

Pairings - Aragorn x Reader (romantic), implied Reader x Arwen (friendly). Arwen x Legolas (friendly rivalry)

Word Count - 6,100+ (I do not know how we got here, but we did)

A/N - Another one from the suggestion box! "This takes place in Northern Mirkwood, where Legolas is from. Maybe Aragorn and Reader are there for some sort of formal event? Reader stuns Aragorn in an Elvish dress and she kinda takes advantage. Poor Aragorn becomes a mess! Arwen and Legolas have made a secret bet on how fast it’ll take for Aragorn and Reader to sneak away. Reader is wearing a pretty dark blue Elvish dress with long sleeves and some kind of pretty silver embroidery." — @tsum00 (I hope I tagged the right person, please correct me if I am wrong!) This may have gone a bit off from the suggestion, so I do apologize for that! I hope you enjoy regardless, thank you so much for your suggestion and your kind words! I really enjoyed writing this and ended up with more plot written than I expected, so I do apologize for that! I made the feast, the feast of starlight as that was the only one I could remember at the moment. I kept the reader as vague as possible but included the dress, the only defining features are plump lips. I got way too into writing this while simultaneously having writer's block...it was an experience but an enjoyable one. Smut below the cut!

Read on AO3 Read on Wattpad

Mereth Nuin Giliath, otherwise known as the Feast of Starlight in the common tongue. A celebratory feast held in admiration for the various lights that shone within the darkened sky alongside the vast moon that loomed over them.

The exact origins of the feast were unknown to those outside of the woodland halls, and the king of Gondor was no exception to said fact. However, it mattered not to the recently crowned king why he was there to celebrate such matters; he was merely joyous to be invited to such festivities—vastly aware of the secrecy of the northern elves.

A gentle breeze drifted throughout the woodland halls as the celebrations echoed within, carrying the strumming of harps and the chatter of elves as it floated through the chilled air. The soft glow of candlelight illuminated the dancing figures on the busied floor, painting the walls with tall, darkened reflections of their graceful movements as they basked within the energy of the natural light from above.

The various figures swayed upon the dance floor, yet the grace within their movements began to gnaw away with each sip of rouge liquid that stained the various elven lips. A similar hue dripped onto the old, wooden floor beneath them, quenching the dried wood with the taste of aged elven wine as their goblets flowed over while their movements became more primal.

Amongst the sea of dancing figures, there was one whom the recently crowned king's eyes could not part from—his dearly betrothed, Y/N.

To say the woman was a vision was an understatement to the king. The deep blue silk draped upon her heavenly figure made her appear like a goddess wrapped in the same night sky the elves danced under. The soft twinkles of the silver spool sewn into the gown shimmered with each sway of her hips amidst the mixed lights.

As the elves continued to rejoice beneath the light of the stars, the new king could not help but envision how he might later rejoice beneath the light of her. The moisture within his mouth began to overflow at the thought as he shifted upon the heels of his feet, the old wooden floor creaking beneath the moving weight as his mind continued to wander—picturing the heavenly flesh hidden beneath the smoothness of silk.

"Your mind wanders." A familiar voice broke through the static of the king's trance, reminding the man of the familiar elven prince who stood to the right of him. "Have you heard a single word I had spoken?" The prince questioned, a thick brow quirked upwards as the man nervously raised the goblet of rouge liquid to meet his thin lips.

"I, erm..." Any hint of excuse died within Aragorn's throat as the blood within his cheeks burnt hot, his eyes betraying him as they continuously darted back to the packed floor—watching as the beautiful temptress swayed amongst the sea of elves. "I had not." He uttered, a soft admission as he attempted to revert his eyes towards the prince beside him, yet he struggled to pull his gaze away from the temptation upon the dance floor.

Lost in a trance, like a sailor lulled to the depths of the sea by a siren, his gaze followed each hypnotic sway of the woman's hips. The deep blue fabric swished side to side with each motion, the silver embellishments twinkling within the pale moonlight, pulling him deeper into the trance of arousal.

"Why stand and watch when you could be beside her?" The elven prince questioned, once again pulling the man back from the depths of his desires. "No one would fault you if you were to slip away for a moment." Legolas continued, his tone sounding more like a tempting song. Though Aragorn could not see it, he could hear how Legolas' smirk dripped upon each word he uttered.

"Legolas," Another familiar voice spoke from beside Aragorn, one full of softness and femininity—yet the slightest twinge of irritation weighed heavy upon the elf's name. "Aragorn is in no need of your council." She continued, the soft swish of her wine tapped against her glass, her hand clenching around the stem as her gaze fixated upon her fellow elven royal—sapphire eyes narrowing in displeasure as the prince's ocean ones twinkled with mischief.

"Perhaps I shall accompany my betrothed." The words that left Aragorn's lips were in a dream-like trance, light and airy—full of desire and satisfaction as he continued to admire his beloved.

The sound of his betrothed's laughter floated alongside the strumming of harps in the air, fluttering into the man's ears, filling his chest with a glow of warmth and a yearning for her tender caress. There was not a single flaw within the woman upon the dance floor, none that the recently crowned king could find—and if any dared to utter otherwise, he would ensure they would be unable to utter another word ever again.

The thought alone was enough to cause the man's grasp to tighten around his goblet, clenching around the cold metal within his calloused palm as the muscles within his jaw began to tense at the nonsensical fantasy his mind had composed.

As his mind continued to string along peculiar fantasies, the woman spun around. The corners of her plump lips quirked into a playful smile as the weight of her head tilted back in laughter, the hue of her hair cascading down her scalp like a waterfall beneath the pale moonlight as she continued to rejoice in the festivities. That was all it took; the sight of his beloved so wild and free was all it took to break his resolve.

"Pardon me." Aragorn uttered, his words barely catching within the sensitive ears of his royal elven companions as his feet guided him onto the dance floor. Discarding the goblet of rouge liquid upon the way, wishing to have his hands free for what was to come.

As the head of auburn hair disappeared amongst the sea of elven heads, an amused snicker slipped out of the elven prince's thin lips.

"It appears you will have to make good on your bet, my lady," Legolas began, his voice laced with smugness as he brought his goblet to his lips, allowing the pool of rouge liquid to enter them. "I shall be expecting the wine by the next full moon." He continued, earning a scoff from the elven lady's plump lips.

"You merely led him to her," Arwen rebutted, a slender hand waving slightly to dismiss the notion Legolas had proposed. "I have faith that I shall be the victor of this bet. Aragorn is no animal."

The statement, ever innocent and determined, caused a sea of laughter to bubble up from Legolas's throat—nearly causing the typically stoic prince to choke upon his wine. "We shall see." He spoke once his throat cleared of laughter, yet the smug grin remained carved upon his thin lips.

──────

The auburn-haired man continued to push through the sea of elves, uttering soft apologies when he accidentally bumped into one through the cramped path, yet he couldn't stop. He cared little about the path or those in his way; all he cared about was you.

The pale moonlight shone down upon you, bathing you in the silvery hue of its aura as you continued to sway on the floor—appearing like a goddess amidst a sea of faithful servants despite being a mortal amongst near immortals.

The thump of the ranger's booted feet against the wooden floor echoed throughout the air as he approached, garnering your attention as you ended yet another twirl. The deep blue gown fanned out as your motions halted, much attention falling onto your hips and waist as it momentarily tightened around them before returning to its loosened state.

"Y/N," Aragorn breathed as he stood before you, the leather of the tips of his boot touching against the smoothness of your dancing shoe—desperately attempting to be as close to you as possible. "you look lovely." His voice was no louder than a whisper, as the heat of his words gently caressed the flesh of your neck as he leaned closer to you. "Utterly lovely." He repeated the word like a prayer, desperate for his goddess to hear it.

The smile upon your lips curved differently, one of mischief and delight, and the gaze your gemstone-colored eyes held began to narrow. "Oh?" The word left your lips in a breath, watching as the once ranger eagerly bobbed his head to answer you—like the good boy he was. "And tell me, just how lovely do I look?" You teased, eager to hear him sing praises of your beauty as he squirmed with desire under your stern gaze.

"You look like a goddess sent from the heavens," Aragorn breathed dreamily. The heat of his body radiated off of him as he leaned closer to you, desperate to be within your presence, yet knowing better than to touch without permission. "one who I yearn to worship." The heat of his whisper grazed against the sensitive flesh of your neck, his lips hovering a mere breath away from your delicate flesh as his gaze rose to meet yours.

"Is that so?" You questioned, the smug grin never leaving your lips as you gazed down upon the ranger—his knees bent slightly, subconsciously preparing to kneel before you and abide by your beck and call. "And is that how you properly ask to worship me? Is it?" As the taunting question left your lips, the ranger's icy eyes slowly widened in realization. You wanted him to beg among the sensitive ears of elves.

"I..." The moisture dried from the man's mouth, words catching within the back of his throat as his head rose from your neck. "You wish for me to beg?" He whispered, his eyes anxiously darting throughout the room as a heat began to spread throughout the center of his chest. Though the warmth had started as one of unease, it began to settle into a burn of arousal.

"I do not see why not." The floor creaked slightly beneath you as you inched closer to Aragorn, the tips of your shoes pressing into the tips of his boots, forcing them to squish into the flesh of his toes. "But, the others—" "Oh, now the presence of others troubles you, my dear?" You taunted, the heat of your breath grazing against the flesh of his pricked chin, furthering the heat of arousal that spread throughout him.

"You appeared to have no issue ravishing me with your eyes moments ago." You continued, inching closer to the man before you, the softness of your flesh pressing into the hardness of his—causing the hardness within his trousers to grow further. "Well, I, erm..." Aragorn trailed off, unable to find a viable excuse that would explain both how he stared at you and how hardened his cock had become whilst doing so.

"Tell me, pet," The words escaped your lips in a purred tone, as the smoothness of your hand gently encased the side of his face, the roughness of his beard grazing against your palm as he leaned into your touch. "what were you envisioning as you stared at my hips? Hm?" Your thumb grazed against his bottom lip, stained lightly by the rogue hue of the liquid he had so easily downed prior whilst gazing upon you.

"You using me for your pleasure, mistress." Aragorn admitted sheepishly. The heat beneath his cheeks was now a roaring wildfire as the tingling of embarrassment rushed throughout his veins, allowing the flow of blood to fixate on its trail down to his cock.

"Is that so?" You cooed as the smoothness of your thumb continued to caress the smoothness of his stained lower lip. His head bobbed eagerly in agreement, the harshness of his bearded cheek rubbed against your palm as his icy eyes bore up at you large and sparkling with a lustful desire to please you. "Yes, mistress." He breathed, his eyes never leaving yours as he sank his cheek deeper into your touch.

"Such a good toy." The softness of your palm dropped from his face, earning a displeased whimper from the ranger's lips as you inched away—his body seeking yours out as he leaned forward slightly, desperate to be in the warmth of your aura. "Mistress, please." He whined, his desperation to please you overflowing, washing away all his previous worries of the woodland elves hearing him pleading to please you.

Despite how he pleaded, you continued to inch away from him, earning yet another whine to slip through his wine-stained lips. The sight of your heavenly figure backing away from him was near torture as if the gods were ripping away the angel sent to save him from damnation—or rather, bring him closer to it.

Before another sound of displeasure—or another pathetic beg—could escape the king's lips, you curved a finger in his direction, signaling for him to follow, which he did eagerly.

His steps held a bounce as he rushed after you like a stray dog being brought home during a storm. Though the thumping within his chest was rapid, all blood flow fixated on the cause of the growing tent pitching within the front of his trousers as you led the king of Gondor away from the festivities.

──────

It was a bit of a blur how the ranger ended up in this manner: back pressed firmly against the twisted woodland halls, the old wood digging into the exposed flesh of his rear as his trousers laid upon the ground. The bitter night's air nipped at his exposed flesh, yet his cock was warmed beneath the smoothness of your touch.

His breath hitched within his throat as your delicate hand continued to glide upon his throbbing member, dampened with the saliva you had spat upon it the moment his trousers fell upon the floor.

"What if we are caught?" He whispered, his voice quivering in pleasure as the tip of your thumb grazed over the throbbing head of his cock, smearing the off-white liquid of his pre-release. An amused scoff fell from your lips as you continued to stroke his throbbing length, feeling pulsations of his racing heart within his cock.

"Then they would see what a good whore you are for your mistress." Your cooed words caused his cock to twitch within your touch, the lids of his eyes dropping slightly as the pleasure of praise sunk within his veins. "Though I doubt they would see much, my damn sleeve blocks even my view." You grumbled beneath your breath, your free hand hoisting up your long sleeve yet again as your preoccupied hand continued to twist upon the leaking length, the sleeve soon drooping down—sheathing the king's cock from the night's air and the heat of your gaze.

An annoyed tsk fell from your lips as you attempted to fix your sleeve again, yet to no avail. The smooth silk continued to sway around Aragorn's throbbing cock, occasionally gliding against it as your hand sunk to his base, making a shiver roam down his spine at the pleasurable sensation.

"Mistress, please." He whined, the weight of his head falling back, tilting against the harsh wooden wall behind him as his cock continued to pulsate in your hand. The creamy liquid coated his length entirely, making the motions of your hand even smoother upon his hardness.

"Please what?" You purred as you leaned closer to him, the floor creaking under the shifting of weight as your hand continued to circle his throbbing member. "Use your words like a good whore. Tell me what you want, pet." The heat of your breath grazed the shell of his ear, causing more droplets of his pre-pleasure to leak from the slit of his reddened head.

"Please fuck me." He groaned in pleasure, his eyes looping towards the back of his skull as he felt your hand tighten around his throbbing cock; you could feel each beat of his heart within your palm. "I cannot take it any longer. Please, mistress." His pitiful whines only furthered the grin upon your lips; the mighty King Elessar here, in such a compromising position, begging for your cunt like a pathetic little whore.

"Aw, you want my pussy around your cock? Squeezing all around it while I use it for my pleasure, hm?" The words left your mouth in a teasing purr, yet the king did not deny it. A blur of auburn locks rapidly bobbing filled your view before he weakly leaned back against the wooden wall, his chest rising and falling at an uneven speed as he tried to resist painting your hand white with his seed from your words alone.

"Gods..." He whimpered out, his body quivering in pleasure at the thought of your wet walls wrapped around his thickened cock; gliding up and down it, making it glisten under the moonlight as your warmth enveloped him. "The gods aren't here right now, pet." You hummed, leaning even closer to him as your grip tightened around his sensitive member, causing him to hiss in a mixture of pain and pleasure at the sharp tightness.

"Tell me you want it." You breathed into him, lips grazing against the sensitive shell of his ear before they enveloped the lobe for a moment, surrounding his flesh for a split second before your teeth encased them, tugging the flesh downwards, causing the king to groan in pleasure.

"I want it—fuck!" The hand that fiddled with the smooth sleeve of your gown dipped downwards, finding its way where the full sack of his seed rested to which it cupped in a firm grasp. "Shit—I need it, mistress. I need you." He whined in pleasure as your hands continued to stimulate him. One toying with the length of his aching cock as the other massaged his sack, toying with the balls as you rubbed them within your smooth palm.

"That's what I thought." You hummed, your grasp tightening around both manhood and sack for a moment—earning a hiss of pleasure from the king—before you released both. The chill of the night air nipped against Aragorn's sensitive flesh, his cock twitching slightly at the lack of warmth as it drooped ever so slightly without the support of your palm.

The soft swish of fabric hoisted up caught Aragorn's attention, his glazed-over icy eyes slowly fluttering back open to a glorious sight before him: you lifting the skirt of your gown and positioning yourself before him. You reached forward, the warmth of your hand once again encasing the ranger's throbbing cock as you brought the oozing tip to your dampened entrance.

But, instead of sliding the aching tip into the warmth of your cunt, you decided to tease him. Slowly rubbing the angry head against your dripping hole, tapping it against where it so desperately desired to sink into as you looked back at your beloved; his face twisted with a mixture of lust and annoyance.

"Mistress." He whined, it was a pathetic sound you loved to hear him make. It was almost amusing to you how easily you could turn such an admired king into a whining little bitch from the promise of your cunt.

"Patience, my love." You continued to rub the head of his cock against your open entrance, earning an annoyed groan from your desperate pet. Normally, Aragorn would relish in your teasing, the anticipation of sinking into your cunt, yet the influence of the wine had made him very impatient. He needed you now.

The floor creaked under the shifting of his weight as he attempted to slide into you, thrusting into the palm of your head and nearly piercing your entrance with the oozing head of his cock—yet it did not enter.

"Ah, ah, ah." You tsked as you inched back slightly; the grasp you held upon his cock tightened in a warning hold, causing the man to groan in further desperation. Before Aragorn could utter a single complaint, your free hand darted up to his hair, tangling within his auburn locks. "Did I give you permission to do that?" "N-No..." The word quivered upon Aragorn's lips as what he had done slowly sunk in.

"No, what?" You questioned, your tone dripping with assertion as your grasp upon his hair tightened. The soft sting of your nails digging into his scalp caused his cock to twitch within your palm. "N-No, mistress. I am so sorry, mistress." The words left his lips in a nervous, humiliated quiver as his pupils dilated in a mixture of anxiety and arousal. A pathetic little whore, that's what he was. Your pathetic whore.

A mocking laugh rumbled within your chest as you snagged at the auburn strands, forcing his head to the side and exposing the clean flesh of his neck. No longer did it bare the marks of your teeth, the wordless brand that he was yours and yours alone, but now it stood as plain flesh. "You want to fuck your mistress, do you, whore?" A question wordlessly answered with an attempt to nod, his smooth locks rubbing into your palm as he stared at you like a hungered man placed before a feast.

"You are lucky I am feeling generous tonight." The warmth of your palm departed from his cock, yet again, yet your other remained tangled within his auburn locks. The front of your gown had managed to stay hoisted up despite your actions, leaving the ranger whimpering in desire at the sight of your exposed cunt. "You better make this worth my while."

Within a moment of the warning words leaving your lips, you were soon pressed against the wooden wall—backed into the corner as the ranger hoisted one of your legs around his waist, ensuring it circled him firmly as he aligned the tip of his cock with your center. His movements stalled for a moment, his icy eyes locking onto yours, searching for your approval, and with a simple nod of your head, he allowed his thickness to sink into your welcoming walls.

Though you had felt this stretch countless times before, it was as pleasant as the first time. Aragorn's cock slowly sunk into the wetness of your cunt, pushing in inch by inch until the bones of his hips pressed into yours: tearing through your inner walls, stretching them to a satisfying fullness, as the sturdiness of his arms encased you.

His hips remained stagnant for a few moments as he savored the sensation of your cunt gripping him. It was wet, warm, and welcoming—clinging all around him as the weight of his body leaned into you, seeking to be even deeper in the warmth of your grasp.

"Fuck..." He breathed, the heat of his breath grazing against the nape of your neck as he continued to press into you. The harsh prickle of his beard tickled the crook of your neck as he buried his face within it.

Though you loved to see the king in such a vulnerable state, relishing in the heaven that was your cunt, your patience was waning. With a huff of your plump lips, you slowly rolled your hips—forcing an even deeper stretch, one that made the ranger whimper against your neck.

"I said fuck me, not stand there like an idiot." You huffed as your hips rose and fell against his, gliding upon his cock as if it was nothing but another toy for your pleasure within your collection—after all, that's what he was. Your pleasure toy first, husband second. "Or are you too stupid to fuck me properly?" The ranger's cock twitched against your inner walls as you mocked him, feeling every ounce of his cock throbbing within you. The large vein that curved upon it throbbed in pleasure as you berated him, as another pathetic whimper vibrated against the crook of your neck.

"I can't help it." He whined, no longer sounding like the regal king he was at the beginning of the night—turned into a pathetic little fuck toy for the woman who slid upon his cock. "You feel so good, mistress." He continued to babble excuses against your neck, his calloused hands grasping at your arms, clinging onto you like a sailor to a piece of plywood stranded at sea.

The sudden sting of your hand snatching his hair, nails pricking against his scalp, as you tugged his head to the side caused his cock to stir inside of you again. The vein upon the middle throbbing in excitement, droplets of his nearing release oozing out, staining your inner walls.

"I said: fuck me. Not babble like an idiot." You hissed, the grasp held upon his auburn locks tightening—earning a hiss of pleasure from the ranger as his hips finally began to rock into yours. "That's a good boy." You purred, the grasp upon his hair remaining firm as his hips bucked into yours.

Each thrust was slow and deep, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein upon his throbbing, thick cock as he slowly split your inner walls open. A faint sheen of sweat began to form upon your forehead as the ranger continued his thrusts, making your skin glisten under the faint glow of candlelight; making you appear more heavenly than before.

"There we go, just like that." Your hums of pleasure further encouraged the motions the ranger held within his hips; a slight burn began to spread throughout his lower abdomen as his balls tightened slightly—threatening to spill his heavily stowed seed into your willing womb, yet he attempted to resist the lull of release. The squelching sound of your pleasure bounced throughout the woodland halls, likely falling within the ears of every elf in the presence of the celebrations—yet you worried not of it, simply sinking into the deep stretch of the ranger's cock pounding inside of your core.

The swollen, leaking tip of his cock continued to pound away inside of you—grazing against your most sensitive spot. In response to the grazing, your inner walls tightened their moist grasp around his throbbing member as a moan fell from your lips, a sound that nearly pushed the ranger over the edge.

"Aw, are you about to cum?" You cooed, the words oozing with mock care as Aragorn's hips quivered against yours. His tightened balls were slick with the essence of your pleasure as they tapped against your cunt as his aching, desperate cock delved deeper within you. "Y-Yes, mistress." The words left his lips in a shaky breath, the weight of his head quivered within your smooth palm as your grasp upon it tightened further.

"Are you really that pathetic that you cannot fuck me for five minutes without bursting?" The lids of Aragorn's eyes fluttered together tightly, a desperate attempt to restrain himself from emptying his seed within your core. The muscles within his abdomen clenched tightly as he continued to carve his cock within the heavenly embrace of your dripping walls, desperate to be good, desperate to please you. "Do it." You breathed into his ear, causing all motion within his hips to stall as the lids of his eyes flew open.

The weight of his lower jaw dropped, his eyes widening as large as the full moon in the sky as he stood there—mindlessly staring at you. "I—you—what?" He breathed; the nonsensical babbling left his lips in a quiver as his mind struggled to process what you were asking of him. You wanted him to spill his seed within you?

"I said do it." The heat of your breath grazed against the shell of his ear, his hips jutting up into yours mindlessly as your leg tightened around his waist. "Cum in me like the pathetic whore you are." That was all it took for the dam of the ranger's seed to break, bursting into your cunt like an endless river as rope after rope of hot, white liquid poured stained the walls of your womb.

His body trembled within your grasp, the harshness of his nails dug into the smooth silk of your deep blue gown as he continued to splooge ropes of his hot seed deep within your core; rushing to your womb.

"Fuck..." He hissed in pleasure as the grip of your inner walls tightened around him, clenching your inner walls in tauntingly pleasurable sensation for a few moments before releasing and clenching again; allowing his seed to rush even deeper within your core. "Such a pathetic little slut." You breathed, the corners of your lips returning into a smug grin as your gaze narrowed at the man.

A mixture of lust and false annoyance flashed within your eyes, yet you could not deny how pleasurable the warmth of his seed felt within your womb.

"So fucking pathetic, can't fuck me for five seconds without cumming like a little bitch in heat." You continued, making him whine in pleasure, his cock twitching within your core at the degrading. "I am sorry, mistress." He mewled pathetically as his face burnt with embarrassment, his hips mindlessly jutting against yours as his slightly softened cock continued to push his seed within you.

"Show me how sorry you are." You breathed as you tugged at his auburn locks, forcing his head to arch further away from your neck—the burning snag of your grasp toying with his sensitive scalp caused his cock to reharden within you. "Make me cum, and I'll forgive you."

A renewed energy spread throughout Aragorn's body at your command, the speed at which his hips moved quickly turned rapid as his cock pounded away inside of your core earning a surprised squeak to fall from your plump lips.

His aching cock carved itself deep within your walls, the leaking head of his cock thumped against the most special spongy spots within your core in a repeated pattern as his grasp tightened around you—desperate to hold himself back from spewing his seed inside you again, and even more so desperate to give you the pleasure in the manner you had trained him to.

As he continued to pound away inside of you, one of his hands dropped from you and slipped down to the sensitive flesh of your cunt—the heat of your arousal emanated off of it, a sign that he was pleasuring you despite the little sounds of pleasure that left your lips.

You found yourself getting lost in the unintentional pattern of the ranger's hips, sinking into every thrust as the weight of your head tilted back against the wooden wall. It was easy to forget that you were in the halls of the woodland elves, only the muffled cheers of their celebration and varied footsteps that ended just short of you brought you back to the reality of how close you were to getting caught—yet that did not cease your arousal. The squelching sound of your cunt grew louder as the pattern of footsteps grew even louder as the slap of the ranger's hips meeting your own echoed throughout the halls.

"More." You breathed, your voice no louder than a whisper, but not out of fear; out of pleasure. "Give me more. Be a good little fuck toy and make me scream." A command that was promptly heard, the ranger's hand no longer hovered above your heat but now connected with it as the tips of his calloused fingers made contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Your back arched at the sensation as Aragorn began to toy with your clit, applying a faint amount of pleasure to the twitching bundle of nerves as he began to massage it in a circle. The sound of your arousal grew even louder from his touch, the silence your lips held now a slew of groaned praises of pleasure as the wetness of your cunt echoed throughout the woodland halls for all to hear.

The air within the halls weighed heavy upon you as a familiar static sensation began to spread throughout your core, as your hips mindlessly rose and fell under Aragorn's touch as you used him for your nearing pleasure.

"That's it, right there." You breathed, your voice rising in pitch as the throbbing head of his cock continued to abuse your spongy spot. The tips of your toes began to curl as a familiar tingling, nearly burning sensation rose within you. The grasp you held upon the back of his head tightened further, a desperate attempt to remain upright as your pleasure neared.

With each stroke of his cock, you grew more sensitive. Each twitch and throb was a steady beat, a song that led you in the dance of pleasure as you neared the endless abyss of what was to come. You attempted to withhold for a few moments longer, wishing to hear him whimper a few more times before breaking yourself, yet with each punch of his cock into your core you grew weaker and weaker.

Within a matter of moments, you were thrown over the edge; a howl of pleasure escaping your lips as the pressure within your core bursted, coating his length and balls with the sweet nectar of your pleasure. Your body shivered in pleasure, waves of ecstasy roaming throughout your veins as your inner walls fluttered around his aching cock, pushing him over the edge yet again.

A small bump distended from your lower abdomen as the familiar, hot gush of his thick seed flooded your core yet again. Drenching the inner walls of your womb with the endless cups of cum you had forbidden him from spilling days prior.

As the static within your mind began to clear, the stars within your eyes slowly fading away, you released the grasp upon his head. Reddened marks of your nails painted his lightly tanned scalp, a marking of your pleasure that was thankfully hidden from the eyes of most—though his tousled hair was enough proof of what had transpired if one had not heard the previous moans.

"That was..." An amused laugh fell from your lips as he attempted to speak yet the pleasure left him unable, his mind still in a cum-drunken trance as his body quivered within the night's air. "Alright, lover boy, let's get cleaned up before someone walks by." You spoke as you dropped his leg from your waist. A stream of white, hot liquid flowed forth from your aching cunt as you slid his throbbing member out of you—earning a displeased whimper from the king, yet he knew better than to utter a single complaint while you were holding his cock.

──────

As the celebrations began to die down, various elves passed out upon tables and the floor, the King of Gondor and his beloved bride attempted to slip back into the festivities unrecognized.

But they had forgotten of the sharpness of elves' eyes.

"I knew it!" The golden-haired elf boasted, his arms thrust up in the air in victory nearly causing him to spill his goblet of wine upon the raven-haired princess to his right.

"You two could not wait another five minutes?" The elven princess grumbled, her sapphire eyes narrowing in displeasure as she raised her goblet to her lips. Drowning her displeasure of losing in the bitter taste of wine.

"You two knew?" Aragorn questioned, the pitch of his voice rising slightly as it slowly dawned upon him that his elven companions had heard what transpired in the hall. "Knew of it, bet on it. Potato, potato as the hobbits would say." Legolas spoke, his shoulder rising and falling in casualty as the lady of Rivendell grumbled into her wine.

"I cannot believe you allowed him to fuck you so easily! I aided you in finding a gown!" Arwen huffed, her plump lips protruding outwards in a slight pout as her narrowed gaze focused on you.

"I waited as long as I could, my lady. I grew impatient." You spoke, grabbing a goblet of wine from a nearby table as you approached the trio. A familiar heat returned to the king's face as it slowly dawned upon him that his own wife had bet upon his eagerness to bed her. "You were in on this?" His voice was no louder than a whisper, yet as squeaky as a mouse.

The blur of your head nodding caused the heat within Aragorn's cheeks to burn righter, nearly matching the shade of rouge within the elven princess' cup.

"She offered me half her winnings if I aided her." You explained casually, allowing the sweet tang of wine to trickle into your mouth as the elven prince gloated about his winnings.

The king of Gondor stood there mindlessly, his face as red as wine as one thought looped within his mind: elves and their damned betting.

#Aragorn x Reader #Aragorn x y/n #Aragorn x reader smut #Aragorn x you #Aragorn x fem!reader #Aragorn x fem!reader smut #sub!Aragorn #dom!reader #x fem!reader smut #x fem!reader #x reader smut #lotr smut #lord of the rings smut

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erulasse23 · 10 days ago

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comfort food

[the fellowship, fluff, 763 words]

written for @tolkienekphrasisweek day 5: culinary arts

“Do you know what I want? One of Bilbo’s honey cakes.” Pippin announced this aloud to the eight other tired, cold, hungry members of the Fellowship, who were just coming out of the harrowing snowstorm on the slopes of Caradhras.

“Don’t have none of those,” Sam said apologetically. “I’ve got a few potatoes I can cook if we can get a fire going. There should be some bread and cheese too.”

“Oh Pip, why’d you have to mention honey cakes? That’s all I can think about now!” Merry said. “We were always jealous of you Frodo, you must’ve had honey cakes every day, living with Bilbo.”

Frodo gave a small smile. “Honestly, I don’t think Bilbo cared much for them.” There were gasps of astonishment from the other three hobbits. The honey cakes were famous across the South Farthing. “It was always more about the ritual, with Bilbo. No matter what I was doing, he called me in for teatime. He would put a whole spread together, brew a pot, get out the nice teacups. He liked having someone to take care of.”

“He did the same at Rivendell,” Aragorn said. “Elves don’t have afternoon tea, not like hobbits. But he would always find someone to sit with him a while.”

“That sounds like old Bilbo,” said Pippin. “What about you, Boromir? What do you miss from your home?”

“Well… right now I would love a hot stew with harissa,” he said. “Warm me up a bit. It’s been years since I’ve had any.”

Merry and Pippin exchanged glances. “What’s harissa?” Merry asked.

“It’s a sort of sauce,” Boromir said in surprise. “It’s meant to be mixed in with other foods to add flavor and spice.”

“The Shire doesn’t have much trade with any peoples east of Gondor,” said Aragorn.

“Ahhhh. Well neither have we in recent years, that’s why it’s been so long since I’ve had any. We import it from Harad.”

“But when you say spice,” said Pippin, “you mean like peppercorns? Ginger?”

“I don’t know everything that’s in it,” said Boromir slowly. “It burns, somewhat similar to ginger, but it has peppers and chiles and a smokier flavor. It makes your mouth warm, your throat warm, even your stomach. When I was young, my friends and I used to challenge each other to eat it by the spoonful.” He laughed suddenly. “We’d see who could take it without turning red or getting teary-eyed.” Merry looked at Pippin, grin spreading across his face.

“Oh no, look what you’ve started now, laddie!” Gimli shook his head at the young hobbits, who had already started bickering again. “Me, I await the halls of Khazad-Dûm. They’ll have salted pork and beer at the least, maybe more if we’re lucky. Beer! How long has it been since I’ve had a pint? Elves and their fancy wines are no match for a good ale!” Boromir nodded in agreement, while Legolas quietly wandered away from the small fire that Sam was building.

Some time later, he returned with a sack full of berries and wild onions. The hobbits set upon the supply immediately. Legolas raised an eyebrow at Gimli, who huffed. “No meat?”

“You are welcome to go looking, if you wish,” replied Legolas. “It appears that animals have deserted this place, but I cannot tell why.”

“We will see what we find in Moria,” said Gandalf.

“Gandalf, what do wizards eat?” Merry smacked the back of Pippin’s head as Gandalf raised his eyes skyward, mumbling to himself about Tooks and foolish questions. “What, it was an honest question!”

“We eat hobbits, of course,” the wizard said. “What do you think?”

Pippin’s eyes widened and the rest of the Fellowship laughed at his expression.

Gandalf sighed. “I eat what I am given, for the most part. I have traveled far in my time and tried a great many things. Although I am partial to the offerings of the Shire.”

“If there’s one thing we know in the Shire, it’s how to cook up a proper meal,” said Sam with pride. “Not like this campfire cookin’ we’ve had. After all this is over, you’ll have to come pay us a visit in Hobbiton and I’ll get you a real taste of hobbit-fare. A nice roast, maybe, with carrots and mushrooms, and bread with herbs and butter, and a fresh garden salad, and, and spice cake!”

“It sounds wonderful, Sam,” said Boromir. “We would be honored.”

Sam blushed. “Well, we’ve a ways to go yet. I suppose there’s no use planning that far ahead. One day at a time.”

#lord of the rings #the fellowship of the ring #the fellowship #tolkien ekphrasis week #culinary arts #food and culture #boromir #pippin took #merry brandybuck #samwise gamgee

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demonslayerunhinged · 1 month ago

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Unhinged yap

Monthly reminder that THIS is OFFICIAL ART

The Ufotable staff are basically telling us that Sanemi and Giyuu canonically have a thing for each other. I've never seen official art that's as blatant as this-even from anime franchises that have a lot more queer-baiting, like you don't even need to draw an outline and connect the dots, it's RIGHT THERE.

Shout-out to this absolute Queen, who opened my eyes! May her Ws be many and her bitches abundant 🙌

Call me stupid(no, you're stupid!), call me a delusional fujoshi who likes to 'fetishize' gay people (despite being gay herself).

Side note: The belief that people who hc characters as queer are just straight girls who fetishize gay men doesn't make sense because straight people aren't the only ones who watch anime.

Anime has a lot of queer fans and of course they're going to find characters that they love, identify with and ship. So to discredit queer ships as just 'women being fujoshis' is imo homophobia with extra steps with a sprinkle of your basic misogyny ✨

Anyway, If you headcanon these lads as straight, more power to you! If you genuinely believe they're straight that's okay, but to look at stuff like this and call it reaching is just being disingenuous.

Sanemi straight up said he's not interested in women, Giyuu's feelings and recollection of Sabito reads like a widow who lost her beloved husband, Sanemi being a tsundere with Masachika, and that's not even including how Sanemi and Giyuu's interactions read like two exes who broke up due to miscommunication, repressed feelings, and the inability to properly express themselves, the parallels in their stories, the fact that the last image of them is this

They look like a married couple 😭

If you still don't believe with all this evidence, then that's okay. The aim of this post is to tell sngysn shippers that are feeling uneasy because they think they're being delusional or reading into it too much.

You're not delusional, this ship isn't forced, there's so much evidence that I've collected-that I can provide if you want. I've studied Sanemi's chapter in the light novel with annotations and shit, plus both Sanemi and Giyuu's backstories. I'm reading up on Samurai culture and history, I have studied the blade-literally.

Remember their collab scene. They have matching tsubas (handguards)! Look at the whirly pattern for both, the tsuba on Giyuu's katana is the water version of Sanemi's pinwheel tsuba!

So my fellow SNGYSN brethren, let's put aside our differences and arguments on which dynamic is better(it's gysn obvs), if you're queer or straight and feel so strongly about this ship and can or cannot put your finger on why, hell even if you're a casual fan and just really like the characters lots, or even if you just want to piss off a homophobic animebro. Girlies, I gotchu 🙏

Here's my GiyuuSane masterlist which can also apply to SaneGiyuu as well.

Here's my ever expanding folder of gysn official images where they're always put next to each other or in suggestive poses.

You can also get stuff from my discord(shameless plug 👀), I yap a lot about them on there and share my annotations and drabbles and stuff.

Feel free to use it-with credit of course 😊, for the analysis and the discord stuff, you can use the images without the credit since they're not mine.

Also shout-out to the MasaSane and SabiGiyuu shippers! They're our allies, our backbone, our Rohan shall Answer to our Gondor calls for Aid, our Knights of the Vale to our Battle of the Bastards. We need them!!!!

SaneGiyuuSane, SabiGiyuu and MasaSane shippers when the see each other in the wild be like

The only person who can refute me is Gotouge-sensei herself, and even then Id be skeptical-and coughing up blood. The 'coincidences' are just too much! So yeah that's all I have to say in this post. Yes I'll always make everything about GiyuuSane, they mean everything to me.

And you can try to stop my dancin' feet But I just cannot stand still 'Cause the world keeps spinning 'Round and 'round And my heart's keeping time To the speed of sound I was lost 'til I heard the drums Then I found my way 'Cause you can't stop the beat

Sanemi and Giyuu are gay, they're dumb and they're in love!

Thanks for reading my overly dramatic rambles! 🩷

#demon slayer #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #sanemi shinazugawa #kny anime #giyuu tomioka #sanegiyuu #sanemi x giyuu #giyuu x sanemi #giyuusane #unhinged yap #sabito x giyuu #sabigiyuu #masachika x sanemi #masasane #kny ships #anime ships #shipping discourse

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the-many-children-of-the-void · 5 months ago

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You know, most people shit on Boromir for being the only member of the Fellowship to try to take the ring. That perception probably isn't helped by the fact that Faramir, his younger brother, was wise enough to resist it. And it's kinda fair.

But. Boromir wasn't totally useless. For one thing, he succumbed to the call of the Ring at exactly the right moment. A lot is made about how the Fellowship couldn't have succeeded without the other eight members of it, but it couldn't have succeeded without Boromir either. Had Aragorn still been leading them after Rauros as a unified party, they would have gotten stuck. Aragorn didn't know about Cirith Ungol, after all.

But there's another thing. The Council of Elrond was on October 25th, 3018. That's when Boromir first saw the ring. He didn't succumb to it, though, until February 26th, 3019. That's a full four months. The vast majority of people in the world, especially men and especially in a nation that was weak and beset by enemies, like Gondor was at that time, would not have been able to hold out for four months.

Boromir gets a lot of shit for letting the Ring tempt him, but he held out for much longer than I, a regular person, would have the capacity to, and, when he did finally lose his fight against it, he did so at exactly the right time to facilitate the success of the Fellowship as a whole.

#lord of the rings #lotr #boromir #faramir #i guess technically #mine

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shirefantasies · 1 year ago

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Hello! 👋 Your work is amazing! I was wondering, how do you think the LOTR characters would interact with their companion/crush who has a loyal dog/wolf companion? How would the dog react to the characters? I just like the dynamics between people and animals. Take care!

SUPER OLD REQUEST I’M SORRY!!! Hmmmm interesting 🤔 I'm a huge animal girlie, though it's cats for me hehe! Love imagining my faves with animals omg 🥺

LoTR Characters + Your Loyal Canine Companion

Aragorn

✧ As someone who bonds with animals, he understands immediately and feels a sort of trust toward you because you respect other living things.

✧ He approaches the beast with great caution, near-reverence, offering a tentative hand. It is your turn to smile as your companion warily accepts, butting its head into his palm as he whispers gentle encouragement in Elvish.

✧ With your permission, takes it out tracking, curious to compare skills and see how the beasts of the world are truly made for their roles in a way even the greatest ranger cannot be.

✧ He sees firsthand the way you trust each other, move in battle as if carefully choreographed, and remarks how truly lucky you are.

✧ It moves your heart to see Aragorn’s grin one night when your companion practically knocks him off his seat by the fire.

Legolas

✧ You can see the surprise coloring his eyes before he actually speaks, the way they trace your motions and the furrow of his brows.

✧ Fearing it is judgment, you cross your arms and bite out a “Don’t tell me- an elf who’s not one for beasts?” Calm as anything, he replies in a tone dripping with wonder that he has never seen one so in tune with the world of nature, and at that, in the face of his satisfied smile, your jaw and tone drop.

✧ Naturally, your guardian is completely calm in Legolas’s presence, regarding him with a politely cocked head and an inquiring gaze sated by the elf’s hand upon its head.

✧ Legolas sees the way it curls up in the dirt at your feet, shakes his head and takes one of his blankets, wrapping the fabric into a nest for it.

✧ You catch him having a race with it one day, claiming with great merriment that the dwarf bet him he was slower than the animal.

Boromir

✧ Chuckles deeply at the sight of who trails you, shaking his head in wonder. “Don’t you two make quite a pair?”

✧ Asks right away if he can take the beast hunting, saying he envies you such a great hound.

✧ This leads to Boromir sitting at your side and recounting grand tales of Gondor’s best hunts, idly stroking the beast at your feet as he reminisces.

✧ He loves tossing sticks for the dog/wolf, amusement and peace clear upon his face as he opens his arms to the returning canine. “I could get used to this.”

✧ Your companion serves as an avenue for him to admit his feelings, starting with telling you your home must truly be a happy place with such a beast in it.

Gimli

✧ You probably meet because your companion goes bounding up to the dwarf at once, all but knocking him over. “Control your dog or I shall have to!” We all know, of course, that he is all talk.

✧ It surprises you how friendly your guardian is with a stranger, but his merry chuckles are quite infectious, bringing a smile to your lips.

✧ When you begin your travels together Gimli builds up a teasing friendship with the canine, playfully arguing with it as it noses against him for the meat he is eating and he shoos it, only to sneak a bit down anyway.

✧ Can be a bit rough with play sometimes, but you know your beloved beast can handle it, especially if it’s quite large, then they are evenly matched! Sometimes they all but wrestle in the dirt, tug-of-war somehow having turned much more silly and personal.

✧ Knows your companion’s name, but still always calls it Laddie/Lassie.

Frodo

✧ “How did you come by this creature?” Frodo is the only fellowship member to ask questions rather than whisper to themselves, and you appreciate that, telling him the story one night.

✧ Since then, the young hobbit offers plenty of secret little smiles your way and you ask for stories of his people in return.

✧ When the weight of the ring gets heavier Frodo finds himself curling his fingers through the fur at the top of the beast’s head idly, bringing him that much closer to reality’s solid ground.

✧ He even finds a special form of companionship in the moments anxiety overtakes him, your canine friend sensing his unease and draping itself upon him like a warm, heavy blanket.

✧ Grateful is an understatement. Frodo tells you in a soft voice that he doesn’t know what he would do without you two by his side.

Sam

✧ Before he even has a chance to get defensive your companion melts for him, warming up to the hobbit like none you’ve ever seen.

✧ The way they take to each other surprises you, Sam keeping aside bones from the broth to give it and your guardian taking circling Sam just as seriously as with you.

✧ Maybe it has something to do with the way Sam looks at you, the awe glistening in his eyes and the way he says your name like he isn’t worthy of it, though of course he’s the most worthy of the whole lot.

✧ Uses your companion as a sort of proxy to say things to you he’s too shy to say to your face, telling it how amazing its owner is and the like.

✧ Refers to the wolf/dog as Miss or Mister partially because he thinks it’s funny and usually says it in a jolly voice but also so you know how much respect he has for it.

Merry

✧ “Well, I haven’t seen a dog this big since outside that bar in Bree! What’s his name?”

✧ Sees your companion as a pet, which though not entirely wrong creates a more playful dynamic between them once they both understand neither is a threat.

✧ Merry can’t help bursting into laughter the day he knocks you over in a sparring match, only to get peeled off you by a massive wall of canine. Keeps laughing once they both unfreeze and he gets licked, trying to roll back up and away from the new attack. “I was going to ask if he knew any tricks, but no need now it seems!”

✧ Retaliates by finding the ‘sweet spot’, scratching until your canine friend kicks his legs like they do!

✧ Opens up to you one day, remarking how he wishes to be half of such an in-tune duo in battles and in life. Not that he doesn’t love his cousin, but he craves a different kind of companionship, one you assure him he could have with a fond smile on your lips.

Pippin

✧ Peers at you with the round eyes of complete shock, having seen nothing like you in his Shire days.

✧ Keeps the beast plenty occupied letting it run after him, tearing giddily around the camp once he sees you keep friendly company.

✧ He makes the mistake one night of extending his spoon for your guardian to sniff, only for his morsel to be stolen. Pippin cannot help a laugh, though, and a glittering look your way. “He likes to eat as much as I do, I see!”

✧ You cannot help softening at the fire one night upon looking over and seeing that the hobbit has fallen asleep, his head resting gently against the soft side of your wolf/dog.

✧ Definitely sees your companion as a way to get to know you better, asking plenty of questions and getting close to the canine in hopes to earn a place by your side, too.

Faramir

✧ Lives by a sort of silent oath to question but accept. Thus he asks why you travel with a beast, but listens to your reasons with firm nods and the beginning flicker of an understanding smile.

✧ Offers his hand very tentatively, having had his touch rejected or struck against many a time, but when the dog/wolf nuzzles against him he looks at you with joyous pride that melts you.

✧ That little interaction has you wanting to bring the two of them together, some inexplicable invisible string tugging you closer to Faramir by the heart.

✧ You let him feed your companion, indulge in a game of fetch, and in between it all make some conversation yourself. Amazing, really, all the knowledge Faramir has and he is equally impressed with your prowess in nature.

✧ Faramir always tells you how you remind him of great heroes from the stories he grew up reading with his brother.

Eomer

✧ “Who is this,” he teases you with a smirk, “your mount?” “No,” you shoot back, “though he is sure leagues more loyal than yours.”

✧ Challenges you to a competition, a challenge of hunting between him and his horse and you and your beloved canine. You win, and he accepts, offering pats to its head.

✧ Ever the tease, Eomer dubs you the Lord/Lady of Dogs, but you know by his smile and the glint in his eyes that he means it with affection.

✧ Invites you on patrols of his land’s borders, saying he trusts you both to get the job done.

✧ Suddenly he keeps talking about taking in a dog of his own so yours has a sibling, more and more thoughts along that vein invading his mind…

Haldir

✧ Fears your companion will slow the party’s orc tracking down, especially as many members utilize the cover of the trees.

✧ Allows you to do as you please, though, his soft spot evident in the way he shuts down any and all whispers about the group’s most unique member.

✧ You can see it, too, hear it in the way they speak warily of your fellow hunter, but you will not be parted. Instead you prove them wrong as your fierce defender takes down several of your quarry on its own.

✧ Haldir himself commends you both, offering a tentative hand to your newly shared ally and smiling up at you as it is accepted. Something different flashes in his eyes alongside the almost shy look.

✧ “Truly, how much less exciting my life would be without you in it…”

Eowyn

✧ Astounded by the way you two communicate, it is as if you truly do understand each other. She questions it, asks how this can be.

✧ Takes you by the horses, curious if your harmony spreads. She smiles at the way you interact with them, but it is clear just from that that the bond with your companion has been forged over years.

✧ Absolutely ready to fight to get a suit of armor made for your canine friend complete with a helmet and all of Rohan’s motifs of course!

✧ “After all, we much protect such beauty, no?”

✧ Playfully dangles things in the air, giggling whenever your canine guardian leaps for them and smiling widely at you.

Arwen

✧ Kneels down and whispers something in Elvish to it the moment she sees trepidation in its eyes, calming your companion immediately.

✧ It fosters a sense of trust between you and the woman, whose side you kneel to, tangling a hand in your canine's fur next to her.

✧ She is reminded, of course, of Huan, Oromë’s most famous hound and wonders if your beast could even be his descendant.

✧ Fair and just, Arwen quickly falls into the circle of people your furry comrade protects, chuckling deeply when it growls at the next set of people joining you as visitors to Rivendell. She speaks gently to it, asking it with a teasing tone how it still feels such unease in such a place.

✧ She knows you feel like an outsider sometimes and works to correct that, constantly telling you you have such strength and a place in the world- even Rivendell with her if you so desire.

Elrond

✧ Looks taken aback by the large form that follows you, brows raising at the creature entering his home. He hesitates, makes to hold it back, but when you insist you both go or neither the elf somewhat grudgingly nods.

✧ Used to odd patrons as he is, Elrond reminds himself that he welcomes all and asks politely for the beast’s name.

✧ Studies up on its origin if he is not already aware, trying to determine if this is an ordinary wolf/dog or one with any ties to the land’s magic.

✧ He sees your companion charge into battle at your defense, risking its own life, and with a nod of pride rushes in to save it from its own sacrifice.

✧ From then on Elrond regards your guardian as an equal of sorts, stroking its head in passing and speaking to it as if it could understand him.

Lindir

✧ Goes to comical lengths to step away from and avoid the massive canine at your heels when first he meets it.

✧ Possibly even asks if it’s safe, has fleas, etc. but immediately retracts and offers pats when you glare at him for it. Finds himself smiling despite himself at the feeling of the soft fur beneath his hand.

✧ You’ve seen dogs that howl as their owners play instruments? Then you know exactly what it is I am saying. The kick Lindir gets out of this is astounding; he can’t even be annoyed.

✧ Jokes that you’re hiding a composer under the guise of a hunter.

✧ Takes to the idea of further training, seeing how such an intelligent creature could learn to open doors and fetch items, considering such a use for helping Rivendell’s infirmary patients and those struggling with loss of motion or senses.

Taglist: @kilibaggins @lokilover476 @fuckyoumakeart | Let me know if you’d like to join ☺️

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