#cilil

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Kinktober 2023

Ladies and Gents, here is the Masterlist for the Kinktober Challenge, brought to you by @cilil

Body worship & virginity - Caranthir x Finrod

Roleplay/role reversal/CNC & bondage - Thorin x OC/reader

Intercrural sex & wings - Day 1 - Gothmog x Eönwë

Bath/shower & incubi/succubi - Manwë x Ulmo

Cam & temperature play - Daeron x Maglor

Knotting & frottage - Finrod x Wolf-Sauron (dark)

Dirty talk & lingerie - Angbang

Voyeurism & dub-con/non-con - Gríma

(Pseudo) Incest & torture Fëanor x Fingolfin

Orgy & Predator/prey - Day 4 - Celegorm x Oromë x Aredhel

Size difference & friends/enemies with benefits - Glorestor

Breath play & humiliation/degradation - Maglor x Glorfindel for @maglor-my-beloved

Masturbation & massages - Ori x OC

Authority kink & oral - Russingon (for anon)

Somnophilia & impact play - Day 7 - Nerdanel x Anairë

Fingering & aphrodisiacs - Bagginshield

Blood play & wet dreams/dream sex - Nightmare!Irmo x Curufin

ABO & praise kink - Day 3 - Melkor/Maedhros for anon

Telepathy & sex worker/stripper - Gondolin ot3 (for @jaz-the-bard)

Crossdressing & pegging - Day 2 - Námo x Vairë (for @cilil)

Clothed sex & blindfolds- Finwë/Thingol

Electrostimulation & pet play - Finrod/Celegorm/Curufin for MoonLord

Knife/Sword/Gun play & cock warming - Fíli x OC/reader

Hand kink/gloves & toys - Celebrimbor x Narvi for anon

Daddy/Mommy & edging/OD - Théoden x OC/reader

Hate fucking & Emotional/therapy sex - Day 5 - Manwë x Melkor

Glory Hole & breeding kink/creampie - Maeglin x Gondolin (lol) for anon

Boots/feet & intoxication - Beleg x Mablung

Public & Biting/Marking - Day 6 - Curumo x Aiwendil

Tentacles & nipple play - Silvergifting

Extra: Monsterfucking, claustrophilia, mirror play, hypnosis/mind control, dumbification, oviposition, dacryphilia, voice kink, mistaken identity

ʙᴏɴᴜꜱ: Voyeurism, Virginity, and Sex Pollen - Gothmog x Eönwë, Thuri x Ilmarë, Russingon

I will try to write short ficlets for all of these ("try" being the keyword).

Please give it up for @cilil who has compiled this lovely list -> ✨post!✨

The original graphic is under the "read more" <3

And, as if this was not suicidal enough, I'll integrate the 7 days of @silmsmutweek into the roster (in green).

[niennawept]

Something I've always been curious about: How did you end up choosing the name Nienna? What drew you to her in particular?

Oh! Thank you for asking!

I've always been really fond of pantheons, real or fictional. I think people's gods tell you a lot about their culture and their world. It's one of those things I could talk about for an hour unprompted. So I was already primed to be interested in the Valar.

But to answer your question for Nienna specifically - it's what her presence says about the world. Yes, there is tragedy. There is grief and death and loss. But the Children are never alone in their grief because Nienna has compassion for the whole world

She has the kind of energy that I want to bring to life. Empathy for people's hurts, attempts to understand them and give them the benefit of the doubt.

(There is also a silly reference to the mild oath "Jesus Wept" in my name because I contain multitudes.)

Thank you for asking ❤️

To answer in a more personal way, and cw: grief

The only thing I wanted when my father passed away was not to feel like I was the only one morning him. He was a pretty difficult person at times - he didn't have many people at the end - and I felt so alone in missing him. When I read about Nienna - I wished she was real so I wouldn't have to be all by myself.

Anyway, Nienna is my favorite Vala; thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[lvsifer]

Ok I'm sorry, I know I'm being annoying with my digging up old stuff all the time but I couldn't resist -

This would not have happened under Pope Melkor.

annoying? ANNOYING? I am DELIGHTED.

And hell yeah that would’ve definitely happened.

[mirkwood]

I love your feanormelkor posts. Never stop🖤

Ohhhh it'd be impossible to stop 😭😭🖤

[ruiniel]

Omg I'm obsessed with your masked Mairon art. I'm curious now, is there any headcanon behind it? Care to share? ^^

AGH thanks much, the idea came from my obsession with the symbolism behind masks firstly and then: let's say this was after Tol-In-Gaurhoth where Huan bit deeply into his face. Even though he was able to regain a fair form, no matter his powers, Huan's maw left a deep scar he couldn't hide or use glamor on.

So, being who he is, he crafted something: a gilded black onyx mask for himself. Not to hide the scar because of its appearance or anything (I think he'd look amazing with it and scars are beautiful) but because it reminded him and everyone else of that particular defeat. Mairon being the vain sort, he wouldn't have that (also he grew to love the look ahem).

Morgoth or Thuringwethil get to see him without it, though.

[lordoftherazzles]

Omg is it your birthday today???👀

HAPPY BIRTHDAY RAZZY! Thank you for being such a kind and awesome person, we're blessed to have you around and I wish you the very best for your next year in Arda and a wonderful day today💝

THANK YOU, CILIL!!! 💖🎉

[nighttimepatrons]

For the blorbo bingo: May I ask about Eönwë? :3

oh Cilil... I have no thoughts or cares for Eonwe rip he lives not in my mind. though i did read a fic where he considered killing elrond so that was cool i guess

blank bingo

[chiliadicorum]

For the Ainur asks: 1, 3 and 4!😊

Which Ainu is your favourite? Used to be Tulkas but became Manwe after I started learning everything about him

Who are you siding with in the cosmic conflict of good and evil (the Valar, Melkor, neutral, other)? Good

Which Vala(r) would you serve? This is a tough call, so I'll make it multi-answer bc I can. Manwe's a given I think. Tulkas and Nessa too, bc Nessa loves to dance and Tulkas loves to laugh so I imagine being in their service would be a rather joyous experience. But then I'd also love to serve Ulmo because I LOVE THE SEA

[chrissystriped]

It's so cool that you made translations for speak your language day! Definitely wanna check those out later, I just struggle with dialects sometimes so I might not have the best grasp of some of these X)

Thank you! <3

Most people who are not from Bavaria or Austria don't understand us very well 😆. That's why I added the links to the english fics, so you can cheat 😉.

With dialects being spoken less and less, at least in the larger cities, I think it's important to leave something behind. And I genuinely love my dialect.

[crackinthecup]

freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ you’re under arrest for being so lovely. copy this message to 10 other blogs (only if you want to) that you think are beautiful and deserve it. keep the game going and make others feel beautiful 💜

Ahhhh this is super sweet, thank you 🥹🥹🥹 Made my day 💖

[i-did-not-mean-to]

can we get some Curumo x Aiwendil for the pride bingo?💕

I'm thinking gay rep/coming out/first date, maybe demisexual or demiromantic Curumo, also proud parent Aulë and/or Yavanna🏳️‍🌈☺️

Of course, my dear friend...

The Burning Bush

Words: 2.3k

Characters: Aiwendil x Curumo (Yavanna x Aulë), Background Angbang

Warnings: I have no experience with writing a demi-character, so this is a shot in the dark...

The first indication Curumo got of how different this day was going to be was the broad, knowing grin on Aulë’s face as he stormed into the forge, uncharacteristically late and a little flushed. His apprentices guessed—quite correctly—that it had been his revered wife who had kept him and avoided making any comment that might have ruined his mood.

The next clue was the insistent chirping of birds just outside—usually, the stench of fire and the loud ringing of hot steel being hammered into shape made the sensitive beasts flee as fast and as far as they could.

Nevertheless, he was entirely focused on his work and on the delicately interwoven design he had been working on in secret for so long; this time, he was sure, he would surpass Mairon and impress their master with the undeniable genius and quality of his craft.

“Curumo,” Aulë called as he walked along the workstations slowly, inspecting every single object his apprentices were working on. “I think someone is waiting anxiously to speak to you.”

Instantly, the young Maia’s eyes flitted to his rival—Mairon was a beguiling and annoying mystery to him—but his peer didn’t waste a single thought or glance on someone he deemed to be so woefully inferior. Rumour had it that he had found someone who had intrigued and interested him enough to get him to drop his haughty façade and invest a little more than his usual sneer into their communication.

Curumo could not deny that the mere thought made him feel weak and nauseous with envy—had Curumo himself been different, he would readily have believed and accepted that he was infatuated with Mairon, but, as things were, he was not sure if it was not merely his own pride and insecurity that drove him to desperately crave the approbation, admiration, and even affection of the Maia Aulë treasured and respected the most.

In a way, Curumo didn’t want to have Mairon or even be him—he wanted to surpass him, he yearned to humble him, and a wicked part relished in the idea of making the proud, arrogant, aloof bully bow to his skill and authority.

“Curumo?” Their master tapped a pair of heavy pincers against his workbench impatiently. “Don’t you want to go out and check on this? I’d rather not have you distracted at work.”

Bristling, Curumo wanted to bring to Aulë’s attention that he had had no prior knowledge of any interviews he was meant to attend and thus could not be discountenanced by their imminent occurrence, but he simply nodded and kept his peace as the whole forge had turned to him in curiosity.

Curumo liked being the centre of attention; of course, he would largely have preferred to awe his fellows with the supremacy of his output in the forge, but he was not above taking this moment in the spotlight when it was handed to him and so, he held his head high as he strode out of the workshop at a steady pace to deal with this unwelcome interruption.

“I am going,” Aiwendil muttered, half-heartedly swatting away the birds and other critters that dogged his every step to make sure that he could not turn around and dash off to hide in the deepest parts of the forest.

He had sought the counsel of his Lady Yavanna who had encouraged him warmly to seek out a private conversation with the object of all his desires.

For many cycles of the flourishing shrubs in their care, Aiwendil had been nurturing a seedling of stubborn hope and fragile affection within his own heart, sheltering it from the blazing fires of the forges and the icy winds of the turning seasons.

True to his nature, he watched and waited, unsure whether the tender sprout would find fertile soil, enough sun, and clement rains to keep it thriving and growing.

Many a time, he had almost hoped that adverse conditions would stifle it or that it would wither on its own. This state of nervousness and anticipation was embarrassing and distracting, and it would surely have been best for everyone involved if it just faltered and dissolved like premature blossoms nipped in the bud by a sudden cold.

Much too quickly though, that nascent crush took over more of his conscious thoughts than he wanted to admit.

Moreover, he couldn’t deny that the constant worry sapped him of all energy which made him feel excessively guilty as he owed it to Lady Yavanna to pour his heart, soul, and essence into their tremendously important work.

How humiliating it had been, at first, when she herself had called him to her side so she could investigate why one of her favourite Maiar had seemed so distracted and mysteriously saddened to her lately.

In halting words of intermingled apology and confession, Aiwendil had ultimately taken heart and had entrusted his most shameful and yet most cherished secret to her benevolent wisdom.

“These smiths always have their heads in some sulphurous cloud,” she had joked while pruning a young tree that—much like Aiwendil’s love—had grown too fast and too recklessly. “You have to lure him out of the forge and ask him directly whether he wants to accompany you to Manwë’s celebration.”

She had shrugged indulgently. “Being a smidgen oblivious to these things is, unfortunately, more common than you would believe—even amongst the most powerful and wise.”

Far was it from Aiwendil to doubt his Lady’s words or refuse her sage counsel and so, he had summoned all his courage and asked her leave to walk over to where Curumo was certainly absorbed by his daily tasks to offer him that fragile, tender-leafed heart of his without subterfuge or flowery dissimulation.

In spite of this decisive burst of initiative, doubt still gnawed at him from the inside like the pervasive rot that some dark power had implanted into the roots of their most beloved trees to weaken and fell them without a single blade having to be lifted against them.

While Aiwendil loved with all the reckless fervour of ivy sprawling across every space it could encroach upon, Curumo had always struck him as distant and even cold.

His favour was given reluctantly and to a chosen few only.

Even though Aiwendil could hardly understand how such a thing could be possible and what tremendous control over mind and body such a stance must demand, he could respect and accept the reticent nature of one who seemed so fair and honourable in his starry eyes.

Great, imperious, and often impatient, Curumo had indeed proven to be a good friend and a wise counsellor—he knew many things and enjoyed the confidence and the trust of the Valar and did not hesitate to share his knowledge and insight with even the least articulate and studious of his peers.

Lately, Aiwendil had been able to make a few remarks that had been witty and pertinent enough to win him a fond smile or a conspiratorial wink from Curumo and—shameful as it was to admit as much—these rare moments of complicity had been enough to coax the hesitant buds of his own infatuation into full bloom.

Every kind word, every approving smile, and every shared joke watered the frail growth until its vines constricted Aiwendil’s heart almost painfully.

“You can do it,” his faithful friends chirped and rumbled beside him, “you can fan those dignified embers into roaring flame. Your patience and benevolent modesty must prevail upon his own secret misgivings or doubts. Worry not, we are with you.”

Thus encouraged and supported, Aiwendil stopped outside the forge just as Curumo strode out, his face a mask of scowling disapproval and haughty impatience.

“Hello,” Aiwendil squeaked, betraying his nerves by the way his voice cracked in the middle of the word.

“Good day to you,” Curumo replied with a minute frown, “has something happened?”

He knew the small, furtive Maia to be exceedingly discreet and unobtrusive, so naturally, he was worried that some major catastrophe or emergency had brought him so far from his Lady’s sphere of influence,

“No…” The reply was slightly delayed and definitely hesitant. “It’s about the festival.” “What about it?” Even as he spoke the words and saw Aiwendil’s sweet face fall drastically, Curumo became aware of how harsh and querulous his question must have sounded. “Is there a problem? Do you need help with anything?”

“No.” This time, Aiwendil’s answer was fast and hard as a stone cast with all his might against an unyielding wall. “I…I wanted to ask you whether you would like to accompany me.”

“We are all expected to appear,” Curumo commented uncertainly, “and I’d surely never neglect my duties by not showing my face at such a momentous occasion.”

A pained groan escaped the other, making Curumo all the more anxious—he should have been in the forge, working on his project, instead of making a fool of himself by entirely missing the point if Aiwendil’s indulgent distress was anything to go by.

“Verily, it surely is so,” Aiwendil conceded, “but I wanted to invite you to spend the day by my side and share a meal with me, apart from our peers and friends maybe?”

Curumo had heard of such meetings—Mairon, it was said, indulged in them quite frequently—but he had never expected to partake in that particular kind of unnecessary folly himself. As he looked into the huge, hopeful eyes of someone who only knew selfless care and patient kindness, he found that he was not categorically opposed to the idea after all.

“Do you know what you are insinuating, little one?” he inquired, just to make sure that he had not, yet again, misinterpreted the situation by letting his own doubts and desires override his better judgement and knowledge.

Blushing, Aiwendil nodded slowly. This was the first time that he had ever dared to make such a request and he was terrified of the implications and potential consequences, but, now that the moment of truth had come, he stood his ground stubbornly.

He was very aware of the risk he was taking by petitioning someone whose form was too similar to the one he had chosen for himself while their essence was just a smidgen too divergent from his own sweet, gentle nature.

If Curumo was to react negatively to this invitation, Aiwendil might well be ostracised, punished, or worse for his trespass against the customs and unwritten rule of their kind—it followed quite naturally that, with everything that was on the line for him, he desperately hoped and wished that this would not be the case.

“So be it then,” Curumo heard himself say; a ripple of surprise and discomfort disturbed the calm self-control of his mien as he realised that he had not consciously decided to accept this invitation before the words had left his tingling lips.

Maybe this was a petulant attempt to show Mairon that he really didn’t care about the secret rendezvous the dismissive fire spirit apparently attended, or it was a despairing effort to overcome the natural disinterest that was as much part of his innermost truth as his sharp, calculating mind or his powerful, persuasive voice.

Either way, he had agreed to spend the day with one he thought of with a strange, melancholic mix of unfair disdain and unbridled envy more often than he let anybody, least at all Aiwendil himself, know.

Aiwendil caressed where others struck and his kindness was as enduring and steadfast as rock and iron—at first glance, his effaced, nervous way of comporting himself might make anyone believe that he was weak-willed and charmless, but that was not so.

Curumo was ashamed of how long it had taken him to realise just how precious that little wood creature was; as a matter of fact, that initial realisation had only led to a slew of others—all of them humbling and none of them humiliating—which he earnestly treasured and recalled whenever he felt his own pride and vanity get out of control within his untameable breast.

Far from being dull, Aiwendil—once he had gotten comfortable with another soul—could reveal and share fascinating secrets about the world they lived in and his benevolent awareness of all things living and thriving had oft nourished Curumo’s uninterrupted musings about existential questions for many a mingling.

“I…Oh, all right,” the young Maia now stammered, his face lighting up with a glow that seemed to combine the familiar light of the Trees and yet sublimated it into a unique gleam that could not be found anywhere else.

“You are aware that I am not…I am not used to this kind of togetherness. I do not want to disappoint you,” Curumo exclaimed passionately—how could he clothe into words those elusive skills, demeanours, and instincts he suspected were underdeveloped or even entirely lacking in him if he had no way of knowing what the presence of those traits would even feel like?

“Worry not,” Aiwendil promised, laying a comforting, reassuring hand on Curumo’s shivering forearm. “All things grow according to their season, their kind, and their own undisclosed destiny—I know, respect, and welcome that. I’ll let you return to your work, and I’ll see you very soon, I hope.”

As if he was afraid that his courage would fail him, he sauntered away quickly, blending into the bushes surrounding the forge like one of the critters that followed him everywhere he went.

There were too many things Curumo didn’t know and couldn’t predict to count them, but—as his eyes followed Aiwendil until he could no longer make out anything other than the softly swaying leaves of the distant trees—he felt warm and comfortable and that had to be enough for now.

@fellowshipofthefics Here is my first entry for the June Pride Bingo :)

As always, lots of love from me and special thanks to @cilil for submitting this beautiful prompt!

[verecunda]

freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ you’re under arrest for being so lovely. copy this message to 10 other blogs (only if you want to) that you think are beautiful and deserve it. keep the game going and make others feel beautiful 💜

Thank you, lovely! Right back at you! 🥰🥰💖💖💖

[solmarillion]

Happy holidays and a happy new year!❤️

awww thank you so much 🥺 same to you!! 🎁

[mirkwood]

Get attacked!! ✨🌈 SEND THIS TO OTHER BLOGGERS YOU THINK ARE WONDERFUL. KEEP THE GAME GOING 🌈✨

Why not attack right away, I thought, as a warm welcome of sorts ;)

HELLO NEW MUTUAL!!!! 🖤🖤

Thank you so much, I feel very welcomed right now 🥰

[ruiniel]

freeze! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ•̀ω•́)つ you’re under arrest for being so lovely. copy this message to 10 other blogs (only if you want to) that you think are beautiful and deserve it. keep the game going and make others feel beautiful 💜

rjtrskjs thank you for thinking of me!

[lordoftherazzles]

For the wip asks: 🌀🌤️💧

Happy procrastinating, same here

Cilil!!! Thank you for joining me on this super productive (see: procrastinating) day!

Let's focus on one I haven't actually posted yet to ao3, which goes well with the first emoji!! Golden Hearts Bleed Faster! Which honestly...this fic is so much fun for me lol, and I can't wait to share it, so stay tuned...who knows what tomorrow will bring.

🌀Post the fic summary for a fic you haven't written/published yet. It can be hypothetical or something you really plan on releasing...

Bilbo Baggins, Prince of the Shire, has been left with a kingdom on his back and a ring in his hand after the unexpected death of his parents. Bodyguard Thorin Oakenshield has been brought in to see to the prince’s safety, and do a little investigating of his own on the matter in hopes of coming face to face with the one who turned his mountain, and his life, upside down a few years prior.

🌤️Share your favorite piece of dialogue from your WIP.

"What flavor do you prefer?" “Pardon?” “Flavor,” Bilbo drawled before pointing towards a list of various flavors that the park's cute little ice cream stand offered. “I'm a vanilla man, myself,” he started, flashing a glance to his armed shadow as a grin crawled across his lips and he promptly adjusted his glasses smartly by lens of one side, “but only when it comes to things like food, but you...you strike me as a vanilla man for everything.”

💧Share something romantic/hot from your WIP, or just something sweet if it's gen.

Bilbo’s feet moved against his will, backward he went, following Thorin’s physical order until his back hit the wall, hands pinned over his head, and piercing blue eyes staring him down. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not here to impress you,” Thorin growled low, adrenaline still pulsing through his veins, and agitation having caused him to move a little too close to make a point. The air felt thick, so much that you could choke on it if speaking too loudly, or too much.  “So, what are you here to do then, if not to impress me?” Bilbo challenged, completely enamored with the position he was in as his fingers wiggled, and Thorin’s palm tightened as he watched his bodyguard’s contemplation.

teasing wips/upcoming projects ask game!