#findekano astaldo

[doodle-pops]

Wild, Wild Thoughts

Fingon x reader

Kintober 2023: Fantasy/Daydreaming Sex

A/N: This was manifested to me in the form of a dream as well (the earlier half of this year), unfortunately, I had never gotten to finish the dream. So, here's my chance at making it come true.

Warnings: fem!reader, fingering, fantasising in the form of daydreaming, manhandling, masturbating, voyeurism, penetrative sex

Words: 6.7k

Synopsis: Spending the entire day out with your friend leaves you with a bag of jitters and frustration as thoughts of him consume your mind. The most appropriate course of action is to fantasise and pray you don't get caught in the act.

List of Requests

You couldn’t take it any longer. All the moans you were suffocating at the back of your throat led you to become vocal tonight all because of the raven–haired ellon between your legs. Kissing his way slowly, like a snail’s pace, up your calves over your knees until his scorching breath lingered inches from your core. It was covered in a flimsy piece of material, easy to discard should he decide to use his fingers to tear, but it prevented you from experiencing his lips; or rather, it was his incessant teasing.

The coy smirk on his face responded to the look of irritation gathered upon your brows. Your lips puffy and eyes teary from the period of time you’ve been sitting, strapped to a wooden chair with him toying with you like some plaything.

“Finno, please! Don’t tease, just get on with it!” you whined, tossing your head backwards and releasing a frustrated groan.

In response to this, he inched his head closer, lips hovering just a centimetre away from your inner thigh. Poking his tongue out to moisten his parched lips, he collided with your flesh and delivered an array of kisses. A combination of bites and soothing lavish of his tongue over the area was performed. All you could do was elicit moan after moan and squeals. As sensual as his actions were, you weren’t expecting them to be ticklish.

His calloused hands then lifted to grip your thighs, holding them apart as he lavished the area in hickeys. A place where only you and him could vouch as a testament of your secretive affairs. It was his private place of worship to relieve himself whenever he was stressed, and it was you who offered yourself his temple to praise.

Squealing when his tongue got closer to your underwear, he dove straight in and kissed your clit through the soaked material. You were hoping he would remove the obtrusive clothing, unfortunately, he left it there as he continued to place nimble kisses on the area. The more he kissed, the more your underwear clung to your core and displayed your desperation in wanting him to get on with the show. But for some unknown reason, he refused to move further.

Growing tired of his endless teasing, you looked at him with irritation and shouted.

“Hey! Y/N! Hey!” Waving his hands in your face as you zoned out once more, Fingon bore a worried expression as this was the third time you repeated your daydreaming. He was believing that it was best if you two had stayed indoors and celebrated the ongoing festival instead of roaming the bustling streets of Tirion. It was too dangerous when you were stuck in your daydreaming and getting lost in the crowd behind him.

Feeling a sense of frustration seeping into your bones as your little fantasy popped, you threw an annoyed expression at your friend. As much as it wasn’t his fault, you just wanted someone to blame for your inability to continue your little, wild, fantasy. Squeezing your lips together and rotating your head to meet his worried stare, you feigned a smile—which he saw right through—and answered, “Yes, Fingon. What can I do for you?”

The painfully aggravated expression was unmistakable, and it worried him to know who or what caused your mood to change abruptly. You were perfectly fine this morning and all evening—much to his lack of awareness—so what was it that brought this change.

Pouting due to annoyance in your tone of voice, not enjoying that it was being directed to him, he lowered his voice and came closer to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter?”

His question held innocence on his end, noticing that you were perhaps irritated by the large gathering of people in public. A place of solitude and tranquillity should do the trick in calming you down and reverting your senses. All your grumpiness should go away and you will be back to normal; a few treats and desserts should also lighten you up given your affinity with associating food being a mood changer. On your end, given your little salacious dream, his proximity, the heat of his breath ghosting your neck leaving an unnoticeable shudder and his scent, you didn’t take his question innocently. It was an invitation to more sensual ideas of what he could be possibly initiating, especially when he was so close, and his eyes held innocence.

Parting your lips to respond, you were struggling to formulate a suitable answer given the rabbit hole your mind was leading you down. Various explicit visions flashed across your mind with you and him once more; him using his lips and voice to pull all the sweetest sounds from your throat, or the way they would kiss your skin and cherish you.

Slipping into another moment, you were quickly shaken out of it with a nudge to your shoulder. “Hey, are you listening?”

Unable to meet his eyes, feeling as though your mind would embarrassingly say or look at him strangely, you nodded with a hum. In an instant, you were being pulled through the crowd by his firm grip around your waist. At first, he held your hand, but when he felt you slipping behind again, he reached down to snake his arm around your waist and pulled you close to his side. Your breath was caught in your throat for you didn’t know what sound you would make if you were to release a sigh. Even if you did, would he hear it over the loud sounds of the people cheering and singing through the city?

Nevertheless, you remained silent, allowing yourself to become delusional about how he would feel against your body. The way his arms flexed and trembled as he tugged your limp body through the streets pushed more ideas of the things he could do.

Feeling your face being planted into the mattress and a firm hand resting upon the nape of your neck, you squealed as more force was applied to keep you immobilised while he ploughed you from behind. A quick slap to your ass landed before the sensation of his hips slapping vigorously against the back of your thighs went off. One foot was planted beside your hips while the other knelt to hold his position as he drove himself into your repeatedly.

His panting was one of the loudest sounds in the room, second to your incomprehensible gibberish. Your fingers were scrambling to latch onto something, anything as he pounded away into your heat. You didn’t care if you tore the bedsheets or ripped the headboard off, you needed support for the pounding of a lifetime he was delivering. The feeling of his balls slapping against your clit was insurmountable, and it seemed like the faster he drove himself, the more pleasure he gave to the little nub.

From your angle, it was impossible to notice what he looked like as he folded you into the mattress, but surely he appeared just as handsome as he always did. Hair cascading down his back, lips parted to release all his grunts and groans, stomach taunt, a sheen of sweat down his tone and tan body and a smile on his face. He was forever joyous whenever he was performing something he enjoyed, and you were positive he was enjoying the feeling of driving himself in and out of your obscenely wet cunt.

If it were not for the echoes of your heat squelching and running your arousal down his cock, you wouldn’t believe that you were that hungry for him as well. Yet, when his other hand slipped off your hip to reach for your clit and gave it a small pat, that’s when you knew you were done for. The slippery sensation of his fingers rubbing your clit told you of all the build of your arousal and his release. It told you how much you both desired each other.

For a brief moment, while his hips drove forward, your body began to slide forward, easing out of your arch and landing on your stomach with him moving alongside you. Not once did he slip out the entire time, continuing to press immobilise you as he placed his weight atop your body. His lips fell by your ear allowing you to hear his panting; how well you were satisfying his needs.

Fingers still wedged between your thighs and toying with your clit, you opened your mouth to release a silent scream at the rapid build–up of pressure on your end. Hands scrambling to tug on the sheets, you couldn’t wiggle out of his hold with the grip on your neck (you acted as though you hated the feeling when you loved every second of being pinned). Whining as your orgasm approached, you began chanting his name repetitively like a mantra, like it was your prayer to deliver you from the onslaughter.

Any moment and you would combust in his hold alongside him. Even he was close as his groans deepened in your ear, shooting tingling sensations to your core and forcing you to leak all over the sheets.

“You’re doing so well for me?” he murmured into your neck, sounding like a whimper. “Are you close love? I’m close too you know. I need you to come for me.”

“Uh–huh,” you whined, burying your face into the mattress.

“Good girl,” he praised. “We’re here…”

Jerking your head upwards at his remark, you were somehow conscious to pick up his unusual speech. “Huh? What did you say?”

“We’re here.”

“Y/N!” With a violent shake of your shoulders, you were jiggled back into reality with Fingon standing before you with his still concerned expression.

Lifting your hands to push his away, you darted your eyes around the room and noticed that you were back at the little cosy house he built after moving out of his parent's mansion. The fireplace was already lit, the lights were on, and there was even a pot of water bubbling away on the fireplace for tea—you suspected. All that completed the look was Fingon shaking you like some mad woman, back to life and ruining your fantasy once more. You were so close to actually orgasming for once since you started your daydreaming this morning.

With jerky movements, you stepped away from him and silently removed your coat and shoes before walking over to the sofa and making yourself comfortable. You wore a confusing expression as you stared into the crackling fire which left Fingon even more anxious. No response he got from you and now you were behaving even stranger.

Still standing before the door, he turned to observe you with furrowed brows and gnawing lips. He was contemplating that asking you to come out and enjoy the festival was probably your reason for being so distant. It was his fault for your mood changes. A bit hurt that he was the cause of your demeanour, he left you alone while he retreated into the kitchen to make you a cup of jasmine tea and plate some of the desserts he snuck off to get you this morning.

Returning with a slightly merrier pep in his step, he chose to sit across from you on the single seat and offer you the plate of cookies and cake along with your tea. Surprisingly, you took both items from his hands wordlessly, yet you offered a wry smile which unsettled him. You both sat in silence the entire time while you snacked on your treats, much to his surprise, you actually consumed. There was a small comment he wanted to make about food brightening people’s moods, but he wasn’t sure if it would be well–received with your lack of focus on him.

Your eyes were averted and fixed on the fire, attempting to replay the images of your visions and doing everything to not stare at him. There was a horrible feeling in the pit of your stomach the longer he sat opposite you and gauged your reactions. You wanted to scream, shout and yell at him that the way you were feeling was all because of him, but it would ruin the beautiful friendship you had built from scratch.

“Um, I’ll be back shortly. I’m going to change out of these clothes,” he announced, catching your attention. Mostly, he was hoping to get away from the awkward atmosphere you were creating to catch a breath of fresh air before returning to confront your mood swings. It was unbearable to stand aside and watch as you pushed him away from things he had no clue about. Was it something he said or done to you? Was it truly the invitation to leave your house and step into public with him?

Whatever it was, when he returned, he was going to sort it out whether you wanted to or not.

Watching as he dragged himself out the sofa and up the stairs, you made yourself comfortable and slunk deeper into the sofa to recreate another imagine; something to soothe the burning ache between your thighs, and most certainly not stop the gush of slick building up. The trouble you were setting yourself up for was immense and you did nothing to stop yourself. Waiting until you heard him vanish halfway up the stairs, you allowed your mind to wander, not sure where to focus or what to create. You needed to think of something fast to dissolve the ache between your legs and to stop you from rubbing them together.

There were tons of moments from today to use, there was him licking icing from a cupcake, wiping icing from around your mouth and then licking it off his fingers when you less suspected or when he was standing directly behind you; being pressed together by the crowd as everyone attempted to fit themselves in a tight place. You were able to feel the outline of his abdomen through his tunic and thin shirt. Mayhaps you could combine it all together and create one complete imagine, but that would take time, and he would be back by then.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as your options to seduce yourself into relief were vanishing at the tips of your fingers. Slouching deeper into the sofa, practically hidden from his sight if he were to march down the staircase, darting your eyes to the window, then cocking your ears to listen for his footsteps, you took the risk of lifting your dress to gather at your thighs. Your heartbeat was erratic as you slipped your hand under to press the tips of your fingers against your clothed clit, you clenched on instinct.

Pressing your thighs together and squirming on the sofa as your fingers pressed harder and rubbed the nub, you exhaled. Your eyes were shut as you attempted to conjure swift imagines to reduce some of the ache, instead, they only opened an ocean of your arousal to flow in great turbulence. The stickiness from your underwear had coated your fingertips and allowed for a smoother circulation of your clit. You didn’t miss the heat pooling in your lower abdomen as you continued. With your breathing increased, your hips joined the party and began gyrating along with the constant squeezing of your thighs.

It was easy to imagine Fingon’s fingers replacing yours and removing your underwear to rub away at your clit. The situation would be better if he decided to not tease you as he always did and remove them to display his seriousness, going straight for your release without hesitation. He would be on his knees before you, gently coaxing you to allow him to handle your pleasure and leave it in his hands. A soft kiss to your knees before moving up your thighs and stopping before the one place of solace. His larger hands would waste no time in prying your legs apart to reveal to him your temple of worship, there, his fingers would easily slip in and crook directly at your sweet spot. Desperate to get you off his hand, he would swiftly lean down to place kisses all over your lower lips, swiping his tongue through your folds.

Perhaps when you were asleep, you would build on that imagine and allow it to graduate into something larger, as for now, you would just work with the outline to quickly deal with the ache.

“So this is why you were all grumpy today?” Huh?

Snapping your eyes open, there he was, the ellon of your dreams standing before you, with his arms folded across his chest and an inquisitive smirk on his face. His tongue was prodding his cheek before it slipped out to wet his lips. You felt like he was scrutinising you under his gaze, all you could do was abruptly push your dress down and pull away your hands. The entire time he stood there inspecting you, he was silently running his eyes over your face and down your body, occasionally stopping at where your fingers were buried before returning to your face to read your embarrassed expression.

Unable to speak up, to which he beat you, you curled your legs against your thighs and looked down at your fingers twiddling. “There’s no shame in admitting that you were impatient to indulge in private activities, I would not have judged you,” he began with sympathy, “we all need our moments, but turning on me the entire day because of this—I’m not sure if I can excuse your behaviour, Y/N.”

“I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad…”

Kissing his teeth, he took a few steps forward until he stopped at the foot of the sofa. “Well, my feelings were hurt,” he mumbled and touched his heart—gosh, he could be such a kid at heart during the oddest moments. “But my real question is, why did you stop?”

Confoundedly blinking at him as though he sprouted five more heads, your head ticked like you were spasming. “W–W–What? What do you mean, “Why did I stop?”” you inquisitively questioned with concernment. “You walked in on me!”

Mischievously grinning at you with a low chuckle, he lifted his right hand and waved his index finger at you cunningly. Hissing at the satisfaction he was experiencing at that moment, knowing that he had you by your foot, there was nothing else but winning at this point. “Because dearie,” he began, “you were moaning my name. Gave me every reason to investigate why my lovely friend was singing my name so…enticing. Most sinfully in fact.”

He caught you off guard with that confession. You weren’t aware of his name leaving your lips, you were only thinking of his actions, not crying out for him.

Caught in his web and aware that you weren’t conscious, he sat on the handle of the sofa. “Something tells me that you had no idea you were singing for me,” he teased, clearly enjoying your facial expressions. “I’m curious to know though, what was I doing to arouse such an explicit response, Y/N?”

Flustered at his inability to drop the situation, you found it impossible to dissuade the topic of choice and vacate the room. All you could do was remain seated firmly in the spot you curled up in while he slipped off the sofa handle and strutted over to where you were cornered. A hand on the back of the sofa and the other behind your head on the armrest, his body caged you in like a prey.

Is this real–life or is it just fantasy?

“You were clearly enjoying yourself back there, so tell me, what was I doing?” His eyes sapphire eyes glittered as they shone upon your figure, focused on your face and observing every micro–change of your expression. Placing one knee upon the cushions and the other remaining on the floor, allowed him to cage you in more—and marvel at the size of his arms up close. “Or rather, tell me all the things I was doing in your mind today, while you were preoccupied and dazed.”

“Finno,” you playfully whined, letting out a squeeze of painfully embarrassing chuckles and breaking eye contact to gaze at the back of the sofa. Gnawing on your lower lip, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The anxiousness was slowly eating you alive as you remained indecisive about your response. If you told him, what would happen, likewise, if you didn’t? “I can’t tell—Why do you want to know?” you choked out.

“Because,” he whispered and shifted his right hand to brush the back of his hand over your cheek, “who wouldn’t. Who doesn’t want to know if they’re pleasing someone right; I know I do.”

“You’re not em–embarrassed by what you caught me doing?” you asked.

Jerking his head back, he furrowed his brows. “Why should I? We all have needs that require attention, and there are those that require extra,” he lowly whispered, this time, his face came closer to yours. Lips centimetres away and an ache pooling in the pit of your stomach. How were you not blushing and kicking your feet at the proximity left you baffled. “So tell me, what was I doing to you?”

And so, the butterflies swarmed your stomach and core.

You managed to make eye contact at that moment and crumbled instantly, blurring out your fantasies without an ounce of shame and watching as the smile on his face grew till his dimples were pronounced. There was never a moment where his eyes widened or dipped, only slithering as they became darkened with lust and the desire to reenact all of them. He was profoundly intrigued by your ability to create such vivid imaginations from only a single interaction. Had he any idea of how creative you were from the start; he wouldn’t have allowed you to suffer in silence.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” He gave a shake of his head as he roamed you up and down, indecisive of which scene he could reenact and make both your fantasies come true. “Mmh, your imagination is quite colourful, I don’t know where to choose from.”

Opening your mouth to reply, it caught his attention as he jutted his chin out to give you the floor. “Perhaps you can use the one where you…manhandled me?” you shyly asked as your cheeks grew warmer.

“If I recall, you’re a virgin, so that might not be the best option to use for a night between us,” he corrected.

Sitting upright and stretching your legs from out under your dress, you cocked a brow invitingly. “Says who?”

Now it was his turn to become a stuttering mess, not expecting your challenging response. While opting for something a little more leisurely as you engage with one another before the fireplace, you were desirous to increase the heat. Deciding that your response was certain, he straightened his posture and reached for the ends of his shirt to toss on the floor, followed by his trousers. He was left in nought by his nudity before your eyes, giving you a chance to properly admire whether or not reality matched your imagination.

Though he was a bit impatient to get the ball rolling, he outstretched his hand for you to take and hauled you to your feet. Swiftly, his hands spun you around to unlace your dress and dropped it to the floor in a pile at your feet. The urge to feel conscious before him was present, however, he refused to allow that to happen. Reaching for your underwear and tugging it down your legs, once off, he rose to full height and pulled you into his body. Flushed against him and able to feel every outline of his abdominal muscles and his girthy cock against your back, you shuddered.

His hands were swift to roam your front, splaying themselves against your front and cupping you delicately. From his left hand, his index slipped through your folds and ran along until he came to your slit. There was no build–up or time wasted as he entered you and groaned into your ear; with ease, another finger joined in. While his right hand was busy and his left rubbing your sweet bundle of nerves, his lips were ghosting the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings as you wriggled in his hold.

“I need you to spread your legs for me, love, just like that. Good girl,” he praised, giving a small kiss under your ear. His warm breathing was fanning your cheeks as he groaned from the softness he experienced while he fingered you. Those lips were tracing your ear like a drawing, wanting to map out its outline to perfection while he groaned about how good you felt. “Am I pleasuring you just like you fantasised?”

Crying out instead of answering the way you wanted, your head tossed backwards and knocked against his shoulder as his fingers pressed against your sweet spot. You couldn’t help but stomp your right leg on the floor as the pressure swiftly built—said a lot about how pent–up you were all day, dying for release. Fingon looked on fondly at your reaction, feeling a sense of pride swelling in his chest at the way your upcoming orgasm took you. Continuing his ministrations down below, his lips left your ear and attacked your neck in a series of vivid dark blotches. Where he didn’t kiss or suck, he nipped and nibbled.

His body swayed from side to side as he held your squirming body in his hold. Humming in satisfaction as your walls clamped around his fingers, sucking him back in whenever he attempted to escape, he grinned against your skin. To him, this moment could have stretched on for a lifetime, but given your frustration, he didn’t see the need to keep things slow–paced. Surely you would turn to him again whenever you required a hand, or your fantasies became too much, and you needed an escape route.

Shutting your eyes as the intensity in the pit of your stomach burned, you curled in on yourself, saved by Fingon whose iron grip around your waist kept you pressed against him, you chanted his name like a prayer. It sounded so holy and unholy falling from your lips at the same time, nonetheless, you sang praises for him which fuelled his pride to push on with more dedication.

“Come on love, you’re close, I can feel it. You’re almost there princess,” he encouraged, incessantly whispering against the base of your throat and planting aimless kisses every now and then now that he was finished with his artwork.

The sound of his voice was the catalyst you needed to give you that final push. Combining that with the focus of his fingers curling and crooking against your sweet spot while his other fingers expertly rubbed your sweet bundle of nerves, you were light. Your head was spinning, and you were mentally not on earth any longer. “FingonFingonFingon, I’m close. I’m close—”

Your cries were cut off by a loud stuttering moan as your body curled in. Stomach and thighs clenched; you were giving yourself an unnecessary workout. All you could do was flop in his arms and hope that he’d take care of the rest while you floated somewhere above the clouds now that the ache was gone. You didn’t know where were up or down, left or right, or if you still standing or being lied down. Whatever was happening, you were putting your faith and trust in the hands of Fingon to ensure that everything was sorted out thoroughly.

He watched as you lay in his arms, dazed with hazy unfocused eyes. They were resting on him, but far from noticing his face hovering over yours concerned. Sinking with you in his arms to his knees, he placed you on the floor and cuddled you against his slightly sweaty body. With your back against the cool floor, he slung your left leg over his and gave your inner thigh a massage while he waited for your recovery. His eyes flickered from your face to your chest, sensing your erratic heartbeat and dragged his fingers away from your thigh to press against your chest, he softly beamed.  

The moment his hand was placed against your chest, your eyes snapped open and darted to meet his softened gaze. There was a peaceful silence between you both as you held each other’s gaze, neither of you saying anything, just feeling each other’s energy. Propping himself on his arm, it allowed Fingon to hover and manoeuvre his hands to wherever he wished, though he kept situated on your chest to feel your erratic heartbeat. He loved the slight hitch in your breath at random times as you fought to keep your breathing under control, giving him the opportunity to experience the effect he had on you; the way you were struggling to not show him you were affected. However, he saw right through it, and it made him tittered lightly.

“So, what do you want to do after you get your breathing under control?” He was being overly prideful at that moment, what you would do to wipe it off. It might cost you your pride as well when it comes to dealing with him of all people.

“Ha, ha, how funny you jester,” you retorted with a sarcastic grin as you outstretched your hand to slap his arm. “How about you take your sneaky hand off my chest first and then we can move on to the next part of my imagination.”

Musing, he leaned closer to meet your face, pressing his forehead against yours, “I thought my hands are where they should be…” (trailing his fingers away from your chest, they returned to your left leg and hoisted it over his to pull you closer) “right here for that matter, for when I’m taking you just right.”

An inaudible gasp floated past your lips once your body collided with his. Leg left hooked in the crook of his right arm and your body partially rotated, you understood the position of choice. Different from what you were expecting since you wanted to be manhandled, but you were still grateful to be engaging in something, nonetheless. Deciding to be helpful, you shuffled your body closer until your back met his front when a perplexed look across his face. “What are doing?” he questioned.

“Don’t you want me positioned like this?” you replied, equally confounded as he was.

With a modest laugh, he shook his head and jutted his chin out to direct you. “I want you exactly as described in your fantasy, knees and arched—we’re sticking to the script princess.”

You wanted to sob at the awkwardness you felt at that moment for misreading his moves. Fortunately, your brain saved you with the opposite reaction and brought light laughter to the atmosphere, helping things to move along.

Hauling your body into the imagined position, your knees were blessed to be resting on a cushion courtesy of Fingon slipping on under. A soft, “Don’t want to hurt those knees,” fluttered throughout the air, and it aided in removing any form of anxiousness that either of you suffered. Instead of tension, there was airy laughter compared to the unholy position you were getting yourself into for him to marvel at. Still with laughter in his chest and mirth in his eyes, his gaze faltered momentarily once they flashed to your cunt  facing him.

Your folds were still shining from the aftermath of your orgasm with a bit of cream around the outer lips—from the build–up of your frustration and sinful thoughts. To imagine that this was the outcome of a supposed spoiled day, neither of you would have guessed this would be happening; you on your knees and Fingon kneeling behind you with his cock in hand, giving it a few tugs as he shuffled closer to for entry. Attempting to remember his position as recalled by you, his right foot was planted into the floor while his left hand held your hip for aligning before it switched to your neck.

Unable to waste another moment and draw things out, he slid in all the way to the base and brushed against your cervix. The way your body shuddered and curled, now he understood why his hand were to root itself on your nape which was why he did so swiftly. He was leaning over you perfectly, pressing a bit of his weight against your back to sink you into the floor deeper into a profoundly disturbing arch; your legs widened. A soft whine emitted from your throat at the feeling of being full and satisfied instead of feeding yourself your imagines.

Hands knocking against your floor, your right found purchase on the leg of the table, while your left reached out to take hold of the sofa. Your eyes shut as the immense sensation of having him slowly grind his hips and brush his tip against your cervix was a bittersweet pain. Clamping your walls around him instinctively, there was a hiss and a firm grip on your hips; fingers digging into your flesh while the grip around your neck tightened in retaliation.

“Fuck!” he yelled as a sense of confusion washed over him at your tightness. You squeezed him with a death grip. “Dammit, Y/N. Trying to kill before I start?”

You knew what to expect since he was reenacting your dream, but this was far from how sinfully delicious you expected it to taste. There was barely a moment for you to catch yourself with the rate at which he was drilling into you. No amount of gripping the table or sofa could stabilize your mental or physical state, he was pushing past the limit of no return, and the unfathomable sounds you were making were testament. No handbook or instructions could prepare you for the happiness and pleasure you were being condoned.

Allowing yourself to slip away as he took care of you, all you were left to was moan, mewl, cry out his name, squeal when he smacked your ass and gasp whenever his tip brushed against your sweet spot. Other than that, lying there and taking all that he gave was your role in this reenactment—the best part to be honest.

Feeling your insides being melted and remodelled to his liking, you smiled subconsciously causing a bit of drool to slip out past your lips and leak onto the floor. Even on the opposite end, with all the vigorous pounding he was doing, there were lewd sounds being emitted with every roll of his hips driving his cock in and out of your heat. Like your fantasy, you imagined correctly as his balls were slapping against your sensitive clit and producing the ‘pat–pat’ sounds echoing loudly in the background. Not even the fire crackling was able to drown out the sounds of yours and his moans.

For every ‘pat–pat’ his balls made in contact with your little bundle of nerves, a little flow of arousal seeped out and stained his cock, leaving a ring of cream at the base.

“Oh fuck! Eru, right there Finno—right there!” Shouting out to him that he was aiming just right and hitting the correct point, as soon as he followed the command your air was sharply cut from your lung and pushed out a loud, high–pitched whine.

A look of satisfaction followed his gesture before it turned into a smug look. He genuinely enjoyed watching as you fell apart on his cock, knowing that you thirsted, craved and even dreamed about it. You were too dangerous to be left unattended, someone as responsible and caring as him needed to keep you in check. And how generous he was to do so by becoming indulgent for his selfish purposes.

“Is your fantasy being satisfied—ngh, shit!” Being cut off as you randomly clenched around him, he threw his head backwards and yelled.

Indeed he was fulfilling your fantasy more than perfectly. Your incoherent mumbling was a testament to the fact. “Ohmygodohmygodohgod, fuck! Mmh, so good Finno!” you chanted.

With meticulous and calculated thrusts, his tip constantly knocked against your sweet spot, making you see stars. One might believe that it was true with the starry and distant look in your eyes. Slipping his hand off your neck and allowing you the opportunity to breathe properly, his hand stopped at the centre of your back and pressed against it, sending you into a fouler arch. To think it was possible, the pain was bittersweet but the new angle his cock was hitting was even better. The diabolical calculations of his thrusts surpassed all your expectations, and with another orgasm approaching, he might as well consider himself permanently engraved in your mind forever.

He was doing everything to have your insides remember him, his weight, girth, length and robustness. You doubt you could forget what it felt like to have him embedded in you, making himself comfortable and well-accommodated. However, as he continued his thrusts and you were well on the receiving end of pleasure, his high was approaching.

Dropping his right leg and pressing his weight atop yours, flattening you against the floor, his mouth was by your ear, and he was able to hear all your moans more pronounced. “Hmm, where do you want me?” he asked breathlessly as he fought to maintain a secure grip on your waist now that his perspiration had rubbed off.

With your cheeks planted against the floorboards and your eyes shut, you mumbled something along the lines of, “Wherever you want,” before refocusing on the sensation of his cock hitting spots deeper. His weight was more delicious than a fantasy.

Clenching his stomach and holding back the urge to cum right then and there, he lifted himself off just a bit and balanced on his hands. Averting his gaze to where his hips meet your ass and his cock disappeared, he groaned as the sight was becoming too much. Nothing could compare to the lovely shade of cream wrapped around the base of his cock or the way your ass jiggled with each slap of his hips. This was a sinful version of paradise, one only a few people knew about.

Unable to hold himself any longer, he pulled his strength from the depths of his soul and pulled himself out of your heat to empty his release on your ass. It was painful enough to remove himself from your warmth, wanting to cum inside, but given the situation of how…delusional you were, he refused to. Another time he would be blessed to fill you according to one of your dreams.

The deep, guttural grunt that emitted his throat was beautiful and would be replay during your lonely nights. Hunched over your back as you both panted from the aftermath, his arms were vibrating and ready to collapse. Averting his eyes to the outline of your ass under the glow of the fire, he watched as his release painted your skin, some running between your butt cheeks while the rest remained calmly on your skin.

Not able to rest on his arms for longer, a swift kiss was planted in the middle of your back before he flopped to your side, between you and the sofa to hug your upper back and bury his face into your side where your breast lie. Sleepiness was swift to overcome him, and he struggled to fight it off, knowing that you would require being cleaned before slumbering.

There was a sudden shift on your end as you turned to rest on your side, facing him with an equally sleepy expression. Reaching a hand out to cup his face, your thumb brushed his cheek, tracing where his dimple usually surfaced. “Thank you,” you murmured, unaware of whether he heard you.

Humming and muttering something under his breath, you laughed at his dazed state and shuffled closer to pull him against your chest. His head was nestled between your breasts, a leg was lazily thrown over yours and his hand was around your waist as you repositioned on your back, ignoring the mess. Running your fingers through his inky hair, he felt his head grow heavier as the seconds passed with the occasional murmuring of how he couldn’t fall asleep yet.

“I have to…clean you up,” he groggily explained while his body jerked with the intention to see his actions through.

“It’s alright, you did your part already. I’ll see about the rest,” you reassured, patting his head and lulling him to sleep, calling your adventures a night.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[lovefairymina]

*Snuggles up to Fingon's side.*

I think I'm getting a cold... but since you're an elf I can't get you sick, right? I'd never forgive myself if I did...

“Sick?! Never!” he proudly exclaimed with his chin jutting outwards. His eyes were filled with mirth and lips stretched into a sweet, dimpled grin. “I can never become unwell, for who will be around to care for the love of my life and give you all the kisses and cuddles?”

[firinaira]

Maitimo and Findekáno in Mithrim.

Do not use without my permission, please

[aureentuluva70]

Talking about Fingon as a symbol of hope for the Noldor in the silmarillion has got me thinking about the title given to him, the Valiant.

The Valiant in Quenya is Astaldo, which as @softlysilverfountainsfall pointed out is one of the titles of Tulkas himself. The one whose very laughter sent Melkor running, later defeated Melkor, and who is prophesied to help beat Melkor in the Dagor Dagaroth. They're comparing Fingon to a Vala. And it was Maedhros who presumably first called him that.

First off, no wonder Morgoth put such an insanely high price on Fingon's head, besides him rescuing Morgoth's most prized prisoner of course(and no doubt Fingon's death was one he especially gloried in and enjoyed rubbing in everybody's faces, the Noldor specifically). Second, there is no way that everybody comparing him to a literal god didn't put some serious pressure on Fingon.

How that title must have helped build up that image of Fingon as a symbol of hope, loyalty and friendship whether Fingon himself liked it or not. How the pressure of that name weighed on his mind, especially after he becomes High King following the tragic death of his father. How the Union of Maedhros was likely filled to the brim with people who thought this, who were so sure they were going to win because we've got Fingon the Valiant.

Maedhros and soon enough the rest of the Noldor make him their idol, put him on a pedestal so high it's disorienting, put so much faith in this symbol, in this man-made Tulkas they've created that when Fingon falls-it's like the Vala himself has fallen.

[eleneressea]

In your time travel maedhros au, how are things going between Feanor and Fingolfin since Maitimo got sent to Lorien and it’s becoming increasingly obvious that he and Findekano have feelings for one another. How’s Finwe dealing with all this?

Finwë is doing extremely bad about all this! But mostly for Míriel-related reasons.

Maitimo goes back to just about when Morgoth gets released, and the Ungoliant Incident happens not that long after Fëanor makes the Silmarils, so the Fëanor-Fingolfin relationship is actually not that bad because Morgoth hasn't had a chance to really get the lies going yet. They don't get along, they're still rivals and the family situation is still complicated, but they aren't enemies. This means that there's a chance that they can patch things up. Fëanor is dealing with his "Am I a bad parent?" crisis and knows that Maitimo would like him and Fingolfin to get along, so he's putting in an effort to not snap at Fingolfin. too much. Fingolfin, meanwhile, is very aware that Maitimo saved Findekáno, so he's working on being nicer to Fëanor, and the result is…several very awkward conversations. but they're polite very awkward conversations.

Once Maitimo wakes up and starts manipulating uh I mean influencing his family from his sickbed,* the awkward conversations increase in length and frequency. At one point Fëanor even ventures a comment about Indis that isn't a veiled insult! The bar may be low but they're clearing it!

It is, unfortunately, not obvious that Findekáno and Maitimo have feelings for each other. Emotions are high! Maitimo saved Findekáno's life! Findekáno staying by Maitimo's sickbed and clutching his hand…is not necessarily romantic when he nearly died for you, y'know? So Maitimo knows that Findekáno has feelings for him (because future) but Findekáno thinks that nobody knows how he feels, and to be fair very few people do,** same for Maitimo. They're pining.

*guy arranged large land deals with Thingol in the single year between the Eagle rescue and his abdication; as soon as he's coherent he's going to be judiciously telling his cousins and siblings things to get them to do what he wants. Sometimes that's fomenting rebellion among the Teleri, sometimes that's more pillows and extra treats.

**to wit: Maitimo, Anairë, Ambarussa, Galadriel. Anairë knows her eldest, Ambarussa and Galadriel were (separately) sneaking around eavesdropping and heard Findekáno telling an unconscious Maitimo about his feelings. Galadriel is about four and doesn't understand romantic love yet; Ambarussa think it's very funny. They've nicknamed him "Findekáno Astaldo" sarcastically for his great bravery in confessing his feelings to someone who is unconscious and can't hear him.

[thelegolashairappreciationclub]

I LIED I am elaborating on an entirely different AU instead!

This in my Kingship Russingon AU,

A.k.a: Finwe comes up with the funniest possible way of fixing his family drama.

The timing of this AU is set shortly after Melkor is released and starts causing problems on purpose.

Fëanor and Nolofinwe's rivalry has become hostile but not yet violent. They can no longer speak to each other without devolving into argument but they will rein themselves in at the behest of cooler headed family members.

Finwe can see this rift growing wider. At this point he's getting tired of ruling, he wants to retire with Indis and catch up with abandoned hobbies and spend time with his grandchildren and great grandchildren. But if he were to do that now, who could he name heir? If he chooses Nolofinwe, Fëanor will explode and it may actually result in the whole of the Noldor splitting. If he names Fëanor, he is choosing someone who honestly doesn't seem to have any real passion for politics and Nolofinwe will take it as proof that he is lesser in his father's eyes and will probably never forgive him.

And there are other troubles too. He can see how the fued is destroying the rest of the family. Arafinwe's children spend more and more time away from court among the Vanya and Teleri and people are starting to spread rumours about them abandoning their kindred. Irissë and Tyelkormo have gone half wild, always in the woods and never in the eyes of their fathers' who are more and more disapproving of their friendship. Turukano grows colder and Curufinwe grows hotter and every family gathering balances on a knife's edge.

And then there's Nelyafinwe and Findekano. As inseparable as they've ever been on the surface. But Finwe is perhaps the only elf living who understands the way you act when you are hiding a love that you know will cause irreparable harm to those you care for. The fact that they are so devoted to each other even now, despite the atmosphere, creates hope that the divide will eventually blow over. Neither Fëanor nor Nolofinwe would risk losing their children over this.

And that gives Finwe an idea. He talks to Indis, to a few close advisors, confirms Arafinwe's disinterest, brings Nerdanel and Anäire into it. And announces to the Noldor, his plans to renounce his kingship and name his heirs.

Heirs.

He names Nelyafinwe Maitimo and Findekano Astaldo, to rule concurrently in his stead. Citing a desire for all factions of the Noldor to be represented and a steady rule that can weather all upheaval.

(In private he offers them a chance to be together. To be joined in a way that is unassailable by the Valar, who have imposed rules on love and marriage but have no desire to intrude on politics.)

(To Feanor he offers a legacy, his son will not have been named in vain but Feanor will not need to abandon his true passions to rule, it is a gift to his eldest and his eldest's eldest.) (To Nolofinwe he offers an apology and a compromise. In a better world he would be the heir but he is politically savvy enough to understand that that's not possible. Instead his son will carry the title and Nolofinwe will be their primary advisor. And in all honesty: Findekano has little interest in politics, Nolofinwe will be ruling alongside Nelyafinwe in practice if not in name. He cares very little about the name, in the end.)

It is not a perfect solution by any means. There is still anger, still resentment. But Findekano and Nelyafinwe swear an oath to the Nolder (to each other), to rule together (to be together), to love their people (to love each other), to rule with wisdom and equity (to put aside arguments, to be equals, to be together, to be together.)  And it is hard to hold on to rage in the face of hope for the future. For the first time in a very long time, the Noldor are unified.

(Melkor is going to need to find a new technique)

[effervescentdragon]

Y, V, S?

Hiii :))) thank you for the asks!

Y: A character you want to protect.

Findekano Astaldo my beloved. I just love him very much, and idk why I chose him but he's the first one that came to mind.

V: If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Hmmm this is a good one. A hard one. I think I'd like to write a sequel to this one Captain America fanfic, idr its name but it was like. Real good. Steve and Sam were chasing Bucky all around and then there was this one hand job in the tub. Best characterisation of all of them, ever, and best Nat charactetisation ever.

S: Any fandom tropes you can't resist?

Enemies-to-lovers and destined lovers. Prefererrably together. I need them to be destined, i need the excess of emotion, i need the highest highs and the lowest lows.

[mothdalf]

A while ago I posted this cute little piece inspired by the song Illicit Affairs and people seemed to like it so here’s the very long and very angsty follow up based on the line that made me associate the song with these two.

The story of the piece is Fingon confronting Maedhros before the Nirneth Arnoediad, and thinking back on all the suffering and sacrifice he has been through for Russandol, before the Nirn reaches its devastating conclusion.

First pic is closely before the Nirneth Arnoediad, second is the kinslaying at Alqualonde, third is Fingon and Turgon on the Helcaraxë, fourth is the rescue of Maedhros, fith Fingon after the death of his father, sixth is the planning of the Union of Maedhros, and the last is the end of the Nirn. 

[lesbian-luthien]

fingon is the Best Lad

[ashorelandpiper]

Nothing Fingon ever did mattered in the end. 

Loved and wanted to protect his siblings, just for one of them to die in his arms on a journey he started them on and the other two to die so far beyond his reach that he could do nothing to save them, and without having seen them for hundreds of years. (And of course, being dead by the time Gondolin fell.)

Saved Maedhros from one cliff face, just for him to throw himself off of another. 

Healed the rift between the lines of Finwë just for Celegorm and Curufin to rip  them to shreds again.  

Followed in his father’s footsteps and served as high prince until Fingolfin’s death, just for Thorondor to pass him by entirely in favor of Gondolin when he recovered Fingolfin’s body. 

Sought to end the war with Morgoth once and for all, only to end up dead with his army crushed (pun not intended, I am so sorry) around him. 

He didn’t know about Aredhel, he didn’t know about Fingolfin until later; Beleriand was falling into pieces around him, as was his family. Ard-galen was no more, Doriath was shut, Finrod no longer held Nargothrond -- bastions of beauty and peace in Beleriand were being snuffed out like the flames of candles. And he just had to keep going, he had to throw his weight behind Maedhros and the Union, because what was the alternative? 

[astral-aromance]

Findekáno and Russandol shortly after welcoming their son into the world.

Maedhros was born with a female Hröa, but his parents knew right after birth that he was a son and not a daughter, they named him as such. He chose to beget a child with Fingon, whom he previously wedded, feeling like that was his purpose, the reason why Iluvatar made him as is instead of making his Hröa match his Fëa.

[doodle-pops]

Kissing Fingon Would Include...

Request: Mina darling!! I have a request for you if you don't mind ♥️ Maybe Fingon kissing headcanons? 👀 - @edensrose

A/N: Choosing my favourite character and then my favourite activity is a deadly combination.

᯽ Mr. Prince Charming is here to swoon and treat you in a kaleidoscope of kisses because you deserve them and he simply loves kissing you—seriously, it’s a task to keep his hands to himself when he’s around you.

᯽ Fingon kisses are a mix of playful, cheeky, sweet and sensual. There are days when he is in his light and bubbly mood which leads to more fairytale kisses. The type to make butterflies erupt from the pit of your stomach and tingles travel throughout your entire body.

᯽ He adores lifting and spinning you around when kissing. Sometimes, he’ll even dip you and then rub noses against each other before it turns into him playfully biting and tickling you. Seeing you in festive glee whenever he kisses you brings light to his soul.

᯽ You are kissed for everything you do, for breathing, for talking, for just walking into the room for the tenth time in the day. It doesn’t matter, once he can plant his lips on you, he’s going to try.

᯽ Even when you are greeting or departing, the first and last thing you both share is a kiss. And because he’s the ever so gentleman, he presses a kiss to your wrist while making eye contact to witness you blushing.

᯽ Your face isn’t the only place he lives to kiss. Nowhere goes without kisses. Your cheeks, hands, shoulders, arms, wrist, fingers, neck, you name it. There’s this soft yet charming look on his face behind each kiss while he whispers little phrases and words of affirmation after each.

᯽ Fingon is respectful with his kisses and always tells you to let him know if you're becoming uncomfortable with the intensity or if he's moving too fast. The rate of the kiss all depends on you.

᯽ He doesn’t have any shame when it comes to delivering all his affections in public, only backing off if it makes you uncomfortable. If it doesn’t, then expect him to pull you aside in the middle of a festival to share some kisses while making some comment about his lips being lonely with a cheeky grin and heading off to hide in a vacant room in the palace.

᯽ In public, Fingon will shoot air kisses to you for the fun of it, and you bet he’s dramatic with it. Winking and puffing his lips up as he sends you a kiss or multiple, only to press your returning kisses to his heart in response.

᯽ More sensual interactions would be saved for private. Behind closed doors is where his kisses escalate and become more provocative. His touches may increase as well. There are times his hands are cupping your cheeks or the nape of your neck or your waist and travel to rest at the top of your butt. If you’re okay with it, they may wonder lower.

᯽ The kisses are longer and filled with greater passion and you can feel it in his eagerness and every breath he takes. The way his hands pull your body in closer, wanting to feel your heartbeat and pulse racing as he adds vigour to the kiss.

᯽ At the same time, they are also slow because he wants you to feel every ounce of emotion, he’s directing towards you. The raw passion and adoration he holds sincerely. He doesn’t stop giving you little praises in between your kisses.

᯽ As the kiss progresses, Fingon may grow extra bold and press you against a wall or sofa, trapping you between the object and his body. That way, you can feel the outline of his body to increase the heat.

᯽ He likes to keep you trapped there for most of the heated kiss, wanting to listen to your tiny gasps and breathless moans, or how he's teasing you too much.

᯽ Most of the time, your kisses take place while cuddling which gives him the perfect advantage to deliver all those special attacks since you are both relaxed.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner

[lovefairymina]

There finno, I finished braiding your hair with pink ribbon and now you look very coquette. Now let me put a little bit of sparkle on it, don't move please 😊

“I must admit that I feel like a doll. Now I understand what these objects go through all day,” he chuckled and flashed you a wink as he replayed how you twisted and turned his head as though it could rotate in a complete circle. “As long as you don't bedazzle me from head to toe like last time, sure.”

[vanimeldas]

Findekan’t get enough of a certain red-head

[astaldofindekano]

You're beautiful, so stay happy.

~xx Fingon

[a-contemplation-upon-flowers]

Elves reading Thirsts Tweets

↬ These tweets aren't mine. Credits to BuzzFeed Celeb for their tweets.

Part 2 Part 3

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Tweet: The first thing a woman looks at a man is his heart. The fact that Celegorm's tiddies are in front of his heart is NOT MY FAULT.

Celegorm: Same ladies, same ladies. I'll keep my shirt off more often just for you. ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

Tweet: I want Glorfindel to adopt me just so I can call him daddy.

Glorfindel: You can call me daddy without being adopted...oh, that type of daddy. Why not?

Tweet: I would pay for Thranduil to step on me. STEP ON ME!!!

Thranduil: How much wine or jewels are we talking about?

Tweet: Fingolfin definitely exudes big dick energy and to make it even better I'm 99% sure he's actually big, I'm weak just thinking about it.

Fingolfin: ...not sure what to comment, but please don't think too much on it, don't want you fainting. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Tweet: I don't think I can handle how hot Feanor is.

Feanor: Of course I am....wait is this because I lit myself on fire or because of my name?

Tweet: Nelyafinwe Maitimo is daddy. Nelyafinwe Maitimo is daddy. Nelyafinwe Maitimo is daddy. Nelyafinwe Maitimo is daddy.

Maedhros: First of all I'm not a father, I don't have children. Second of all no.

Tweet: Celebrimbor can get it.

Celebrimbor: ...get what, like do you have something of mine that I must retrieve or like you wanna fight?

Tweet: Findekano Astaldo can crush me with his thighs and my ghost will say thank you.

Fingon: Why would you want me to crush you, that's killing, you'll die? But on second thought, my thighs are very nice to look at, so nice emphasis.