#Doodlepop

[aesthetic-otd]

Today's aesthetic is doodlecore

[doodle-pops]

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

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[faceless-eater]

HELLO! It's me, Desseruh (on Ao3), Inkin-Oddity (deviant art/Twitter) and DeadlyWolfQueen (on fanfiction. Net which may or may not be shut down)

I realized that I use my own brand of Sesshoumaru for my fanfictions (Yield, Seeing Eye, etc), so I sketched out a few. I posted these to the Sesskag Discord, and everyone there was very nice so I have enough confidence to post them here. (I do not draw humans too often so I hope to improve them at some point, please be nice).

Scarring due to the Wind Scar that introduced him to Rin. I know scars on demons are fairly uncommon to portray, but I want them.

Next is his mouth and tongue.

In the anime and the manga, he has a frayed edge to his tongue when in his true form. I find it charming and I want his human form tongue to match.

Dog teeth. Dogs have 6 incisors, primates have 4. I like the idea (much like Father Gascoinge from Bloodborne) that Sesshoumaru's teeth align much the same.

Stripes, fur, and tail.

His arms have three stripes (early anime and manga? Not sure if it changed), I just didn't sketch it.

In my own headcanons, there isn't deliberation on what the pelt is: it's his tail. He has fur that grows around his right shoulder and over his ribcage, which then follows the path of his spine down to a long tail (like a Russian wolfhound/borzoi tail). This is different than the anime and manga because there is a separation of it from his spine.

Kouga and Shippo have a tail, so Sesshoumaru cannot escape it.

Anyway thank you for reading my brainworm. I have other headcanons for the Inuyasha-verse so maybe I'll doodlepop them someday as well. Love you guys, byyyyyyeeee. Some day I hope to draw fully rendered fanart of them, but time is not on my side this month.

[deutschfranzosisch]

"LMAO 😭 do you guys really not know who squiklebop doodlepop is did you never watch tv growing up" IAM NOT AMERICAN !!!!!! *eyes glow red and i turn into a wolf 😡*

[bonnaby]

i like her quite a bit

[creamypalazzo]

in my heart, they are Brothers

[la-p]

I drew this doodle for Easter, there are hidden eggs inside! Download for free the PDF file (link in bio) and if you find them or if you color the illustration please let me know! ❤️ . . #doodleday #doodlestyle #doodleillustration #doodleillustrator #pasteldoodle #outliner #outlinesketch #outlineart #naturedrawings #mandaladraw #mandaladoodles #intricateart #intricatedesign #doodlepop #popdoodle #colorfulartwork #exploreflorals #patterndoodle #doodlepattern #abstractfloralart #coloringtherapy #coloringpagesofinstagram #psychedelicillustration #floralsurrealism #digitalflora #naturefantasy #pastelpattern (presso Lombardy) https://www.instagram.com/p/CNkoSiVnwtd/?igshid=1q4dcy86og0kj

[a-contemplation-upon-flowers]

Heee. To take a break in a hotspring with Fingon or not? Now THAT is a good question….

Once Fingon was free from his duties, just like you, you practically kidnapped him and led him to one of your favourite spots. You knew about a hidden valley with hotspring. It had always been a nice place, but since the coming of the new lights, it became even more beautiful with various flowers blooming there.

"Now, you worked hard enough, mellon nín. You should enjoy your well deserved rest. Who knows, maybe once you renew and uplift your spirit, you will find a solution to any issue that keeps you busy," you told him softly.

Fingon looked at you searchingly, his cheeks dusted with rosy color shade, his steely grey-blue eyes gleaming with something that hat your own cheeks heating up. "That does sound nice. Are you...by any chance...joining me?" his look was now full of amusement and mischief. And maybe a bit of longing too.

His request sounded like it was the most natural thing in the world. And yet...you felt a few hot waves coursing through every cell of your body. You have always bathed separately, one always guarding each other's safety. You looked into a basket, where you had prepared anything necessary - a snack for you both, vial of liquid herbal soap as well as towels. You realized you took more than one, and that Fingon probably noticed it as well. Oh Eru...

"Or...has that been way too...-" "I'll join you," you blurted out, now red like a tomato. "Now it sounds even better," Fingon beamed at you. "Want to go first?"

Before long, both of you enjoyed soothing hot waters, washing away any stress, and helping you both relax. After a longer moment of nervous silence, you found your voice again.

"Want me...to wash your hair?" you offered shyly. "I would love that. Will you let me return the favour?" Fingon tilted his head. Both of you never had been this intimate before. He certainly did not mind. "That...would be nice," you nodded.

He turned his back to you and let you swim close. Now you could admire his muscles from much lesser distance than usually, when you watched him train together with his soldiers and brothers. It didn't take long for you to notice, how relaxed he became, when you started unbraiding his rich dark hair with utmost care. He closed his eyes, and you could see the tension in his posture slowly dissolving. His breathing deepened and you noticed, he dozed off. You knew you will never forget the look of peace he had, as you washed his silken locks and massaged his scalp, as well as the sounds of his content sighs. You didn't want to stop anytime soon.

Fingon did let you spoil him a bit, he felt how much he needed this. You were always there, making his days better. You had already finished and just kept caressing him, when something brightened his face and he opened his eyes again, quickly finding yours. "Now it's my turn," he smiled, his stare practically caressing your face. There was something far warmer and softer than you had ever seen. You nodded - you knew you would do anything for him. The feel of his long fingers, calloused with weapon use browsing through your own hair, untangling and unbraiding it was wonderful. You nearly moaned as he massaged your scalp, lathering your hair. You never thought his touch could be that gentle. It was pure, heavenly bliss.

"You know, y/n, this is something I certainly would not mind getting used to," you heard him close to your ear. "You always show so much care towards me that it never fails to make my days better." "I'm glad to know that," you smile. "I must admit, I never expected to find my most cherished lady here, in Middle-Earth, far from bliss of Valinor." Your eyes widened. Did you hear well? Or were you just dreaming? You turned to him. "Do you have any idea, how splendid you look, your cheeks blushing like that? Like rosebuds, opening to warm tickling of Arien's radiance in the morning..." Fingon paused to lay cup the side of your face with his palm. "You always manage to capture my heart when you shower me with your kindness and mirth," his other hand found yours, taking it gently. "If you feel the same...would you agree to me courting you?"

So, your answer is...? by scroll anon <(*///*)>

Feeling your heart stop momentarily, the wind was gone from your lungs and only his words resonated in mind. Gaping at his words with a small smile at the corner of your lips, it soon turned into a grin at recognition.

Gone were your response in mind, for they fell gracefully from your lips.

"...yes. I would be honoured to have you court me."

Why the heck would I say no to a miraculous question? 😆

PS: Wrong blog you posted the ask to😆

[doodle-pops]

When You Flirt With Them For Fun

Headcanons: Maedhros, Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond

Request: [Mixed Selection] May I request headcanons for a flirty human reader with Celegorm, Finrod, Glorfindel, Maedhros and Elrond? Reader is flirting with them but she actually has no romantic interest in them. Genre and being sfw/nsfw don't matter for me - dealer's choice. Thank you in advance!!

A/N: I went with the SFW route that was slightly suggestive, it felt more befitting given the ‘non-romantic interest’ and I was in the mood for a good laugh. This was just a lovely request, anon. Thank you for the request!

Synopsis: When you decide to flirt with them despite being romantically uninterested in them, all for the sake of fun.

Masterlist | Navigation

Maedhros

𑁍 You had no idea how you ended up befriending Maedhros, but once you did, you realised something very important: the Eldar were woefully unprepared for human audacity, and Maedhros, in particular, had absolutely no idea what to do with you.

𑁍 “You should smile more,” you told him once, watching as he adjusted his vambrace with that usual, distant intensity. “I bet it’d make all the ladies swoon.”

𑁍 He blinked at you, unimpressed. “I am a Prince of the Noldor. My concerns are not—”

𑁍 “Oh, so you already have them swooning? I should’ve known.” You smirked, tapping a finger against your chin in mock contemplation. “Is it the brooding thing? Or the battle scars? Or maybe it’s the hair—tell me, Maedhros, how many maidens have tried to braid flowers into it?”

𑁍 The strangled noise he made was priceless. It became a game after that. You, being utterly shameless, and Maedhros, being utterly unprepared for someone who flirted without actually meaning it.

𑁍 “Would you catch me if I fell?” you asked once, lounging across a bench like some ancient philosopher contemplating the meaning of life. And Maedhros, ever pragmatic, glanced at you and said, “You are sitting down.”

𑁍 “Hypothetically.”

𑁍 “...I suppose, yes.”

𑁍 “Would you cradle me in your arms and whisper soft reassurances?”

𑁍 “No.”

𑁍 “What if I cried a little?”

𑁍 He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose like he was summoning every ounce of patience left in his soul. You were his worst nightmare.

𑁍 Once, after a particularly ridiculous exchange, Maglor (who found you endlessly entertaining) finally asked, “Are you actually trying to court my brother?”

𑁍 “Oh, absolutely not,” you replied without hesitation. “I just like to see if I can make him malfunction.” The absolute horror on Maedhros’ face was a thing of beauty.

𑁍 “You are malfunctioning,” Maglor pointed out.

𑁍 “I am not—”

𑁍 “Name one time you’ve reacted normally to them.”

𑁍 Maedhros opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Then just glared at you. “This is entirely your fault.”

𑁍 You gave him a dazzling smile and fluttered your lashes. “And yet, you keep me around. Hmm. Almost like you enjoy my presence.”

𑁍 “I do not,” he lied blatantly.

𑁍 Eventually, Maedhros stopped protesting, but the sighs of long-suffering continued. You were convinced that, despite his protests, he secretly enjoyed your antics. After all, he never once told you to stop.

Celegorm

𑁍 Celegorm first mistook you for a genuine suitor, which was honestly on him. You had flirted outrageously, batting your lashes and trailing your fingers along his arm while calling him ‘my mighty hunter.’ He had puffed up like a peacock, utterly convinced that you had fallen for his rugged charm.

𑁍 “I understand,” he had said gravely one evening, after you had draped yourself over the back of his chair and whispered something about strong hands and archery skill. “It is difficult to resist me.”

𑁍 You nearly choked on your wine. “Oh, you sweet summer child,” you laughed, patting his shoulder. “I just like watching you squirm.”

𑁍 Celegorm sat there, utterly frozen, like a man who had just been hit by a metaphorical wagon. He stared at you, at the sheer audacity, before narrowing his eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game, human.”

𑁍 “Oh, but you’re so fun to mess with,” you grinned, winking.

𑁍 After that, Celegorm dedicated himself to turning the tables. He flirted back with wild intensity, cornering you in halls with smirks and murmured threats of “revenge.” It became a game, a constant back-and-forth of smouldering looks and ridiculous one-liners. The moment you actually backed off, he huffed in disappointment. “What, giving up already?”

𑁍 “Of course not,” you grinned, sauntering past. “I just like keeping you on edge.”

𑁍 One day, he finally called your bluff, leaning down so close his breath brushed your ear. “You talk big, but I don’t think you could handle me.”

𑁍 You burst into laughter so hard you had to clutch your ribs. “Oh, Tyelko, if I wanted to handle you, I’d have done it already.”

𑁍 He stared. You sauntered away, leaving the great hunter standing there, looking more hunted than ever.

Finrod

𑁍 Finrod had your number from the start. The very first time you tried to lean into him and sigh about how ‘utterly entrancing’ his eyes were, he simply raised a golden brow and smirked. “Oh, is that so?”

𑁍 You pouted. “Must you ruin my fun?”

𑁍 “I would never, but I am curious—do you say this to all elves, or am I special?” he purred, clearly amused.

𑁍 “Oh, you’re special, all right,” you grinned, tapping his chest. “Most elves just blush and stammer. You, however, are proving to be a challenge.”

𑁍 Finrod delighted in the game. He indulged you with little flourishes—offering his hand with an elegant bow, leaning in when you whispered something ridiculous, murmuring things in Quenya just to watch you shiver dramatically and sigh, “Oh, if only I knew what that meant!”

𑁍 “It means, ‘You’re absolutely shameless, and I adore it.’”

𑁍 You gasped, pressing a hand to your heart. “Finrod! And here I thought you were an honourable prince.”

𑁍 “Ah, but honour and amusement are not mutually exclusive,” he grinned.

𑁍 He was insufferable. Worse, he was better at this than you were. One night at a feast, he casually kissed the back of your hand and murmured, “My dear, if you keep looking at me like that, I may start to believe you.”

𑁍 “Oh, don’t do that,” you laughed, squeezing his hand. “I’d hate to break your heart.”

𑁍 “You overestimate your power, my dear,” he chuckled, though his eyes shone with a twinkle.

𑁍 “Oh, do I?” you purred, trailing a finger up his arm. “You wouldn’t be the first elf I’ve made weak in the knees.”

𑁍 “And yet, I am still standing,” he mused. “A mystery indeed.”

𑁍 “Well,” you smirked, “there’s still time.”

Glorfindel

𑁍 Glorfindel was used to admiration. Being a golden-haired, heroic Balrog-slayer tended to make one rather popular. He was not, however, used to your particular brand of shameless flirting.

𑁍 The first time you called him ‘the most devastatingly handsome warrior this side of the sea,’ he nearly choked on his drink. “I beg your pardon?”

𑁍 “Oh, don’t be shy,” you teased, elbowing him. “You know you’re devastatingly handsome. I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.”

𑁍 He recovered quickly. Too quickly. “Oh? And are you thinking about me often, then?”

𑁍 You grinned. “Only in my most sinful dreams.”

𑁍 Glorfindel coughed. You watched, delighted, as a flush rose high on his cheeks. “You are scandalous,” he muttered, shaking his head.

𑁍 “And you like it,” you sing-songed, linking your arm through his.

𑁍 From that moment on, he was both wary and intrigued. You kept him on his toes, throwing winks and suggestive remarks his way whenever the opportunity arose. One time, after he returned from a sparring match, you fanned yourself dramatically. “By the stars, is it hot in here, or is it just you?”

𑁍 He stared at you, sweat still glistening on his brow. “Do you ever stop?”

𑁍 “Why would I?” you asked, propping your chin on your hand. “You’re such an easy target.”

𑁍 “I am not an easy target,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

𑁍 “Oh, Glorfindel,” you sighed, shaking your head. “You poor, oblivious thing.”

𑁍 One day, he turned the tables on you, cornering you in a hallway and leaning in just close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin. “Tell me, my sweet tormentor,” he murmured, “what would you do if I took your teasing seriously?”

𑁍 You blinked up at him, your brain stalling for a moment before you grinned and placed a finger on his chest. “I’d be very flattered,” you said, trailing your hand down his tunic before giving him a light shove. “But I’d still be messing with you.”

𑁍 Glorfindel groaned, his face forming a grimace. “You are intolerable.”

𑁍 “And yet, you keep coming back,” you sing-songed, winking as you strolled away.

𑁍 He watched you go, muttering something about humans and their wicked ways. But later, when you caught him smiling to himself, you knew he secretly loved every second of it.

Elrond

𑁍 “Lord Elrond,” you greeted with a smile that was all teeth. “I just want to say that you have the most magnificent bone structure I have ever seen. Have you ever considered the impact of your jawline on the mortal population?”

𑁍 Elrond, to his credit, barely reacted. “No, I have not.”

𑁍 “Tragic. I fear you underestimate its power.” He did not dignify that with a response.

𑁍 It became a sport after that. You flirted. He ignored you. You got more ridiculous. He remained completely, frustratingly composed.

𑁍 “Do you ever get tired of being the most attractive person in the room?” you asked one day, chin in hand, watching him review some diplomatic scrolls.

𑁍 “No,” he replied absently, eyes still scanning the parchment. “It is a burden I have learned to bear.”

𑁍 You choked on your drink. “Oh—so you do have a sense of humour!”

𑁍 His lips twitched, and you swore, just for a second, you saw a glimmer of amusement in those grey eyes.

𑁍 He got his revenge once. You had leaned in far too close, examining his ever-stoic features like some fine work of art, when he turned his head abruptly and murmured, “You are staring, my friend. Do you wish to kiss me?”

𑁍 You jerked back so fast you nearly fell out of your chair. “No!”

𑁍 “Ah,” he said, entirely unbothered, turning back to his scrolls. “How unexpected.”

𑁍 Sometimes, the elves who served him gave you looks of sheer disbelief. You were speaking to Elrond Peredhel, leaning casually against his desk and saying things like, “What if I wrote you a love poem?”

𑁍 “Please do not.”

𑁍 “Too late, I’ve already started. ‘O Elrond, fairest of the fair, with hair like—’ ”

𑁍 “No.” You could almost see him regretting ever acknowledging your presence.

𑁍 Glorfindel, who had been watching the entire ordeal with great amusement, leaned over and whispered, “I have never seen him so consistently harassed before. You are a marvel.”

𑁍 “Thank you,” you said, preening.

𑁍 And yet, despite all his sighs and why must you do this looks, Elrond never once dismissed you. If anything, you sometimes caught him glancing at you with that small, knowing smile of his, like he found you far more entertaining than he’d ever admit.

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[doodle-pops]

Their Favourite Place To Kiss You | House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fëanor

Nape of your neck, just where your hairline met your skin. His touch was always intense, but there, his lips were soft and unhurried. He loved how you would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access—the simple act felt like a quiet surrender. He would press his lips against that tender spot, and the warmth of his breath would linger long after he pulled away. It was his private gesture, a way of stating a claim without words. Whether you were standing together in his forge, your hands stained with ink from writing down his notes or seated by the fire, Fëanor would lean in, his lips finding that familiar spot, letting you know that even in his most focused moments, you were never far from his thoughts.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maedhros

On your wrist, right over the faint pulse that beat steadily beneath your skin. His kisses were gentle, his large, calloused hands cradling your smaller ones as he brought your wrist to his lips. There was something worshipful about the way he kissed you there, almost as if he were paying homage to you with every press of his lips. He loved how your pulse would quicken when he did it, how you would shiver at the delicate contact. It wasn’t a public display—Maedhros was too private for that—but when you were alone together, he would often reach for your wrist, brushing a kiss there in quiet moments. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, silent devotion, and the love you shared.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maglor

The corner of your mouth, where a teasing smile would often begin. He adored the way you would turn your head just slightly, pretending to evade him, only to let him catch you in the end. His kisses were playful, his lips lingering there as if savouring the promise of a fuller kiss to come. It was a tender spot, full of unsaid things, where laughter could easily turn into something softer. He’d brush his lips there in passing, whether you were seated beside him while he strummed a melody or walking together in the peaceful garden. Every kiss felt like a small secret, something shared just between the two of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celegorm

Your temple. It was an act of quiet affection, one that contrasted with his usual exuberant energy. He was always so intense in every other way, but when he kissed you there, it was soft, a rare moment of calm in the storm of his life. He loved the way you’d close your eyes, letting the tension melt away as his lips pressed against your skin—a sign of trust and comfort. Whether you were resting your head against his shoulder after a long day or sitting together in the grass, he would lean over, his kiss firm and warm. It wasn’t a kiss that demanded attention, but one that grounded him.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Caranthir

Your jawline. He loved the way you would tense ever so slightly in surprise, as his lips brushed the curve just beneath your ear and then traced the line down to your chin. There was something almost possessive about it, the way his kisses there would linger, his mouth barely moving, just pressing firmly into your skin. It wasn’t a place others would think to kiss, but Caranthir wasn’t like others. He found solace in these quiet moments, his lips against your jaw, his hand resting against your waist as if he needed to keep you close. It was intimate, a way of anchoring himself, and a way of showing you how much he needed that quiet connection.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

The curve of your shoulder, where skin met the delicate slope of your collarbone. His lips would hover there, just brushing the surface before pressing down more firmly, almost as if he were tasting your very essence. He loved how you would instinctively relax into him, your body turning slightly to allow him more access. It was a vulnerable place to kiss, exposed and intimate, and Curufin relished that fact. Whether you were sitting together in his study or standing by his side as he worked on his latest project, he would lean in without warning, his mouth finding that familiar curve. It was a kiss that was both grounding and possessive, a silent reminder that you belonged to each other.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amrod

Your forehead. It was a simple, gentle gesture, and one that he reserved for moments when he wanted to express affection without needing words. His lips would brush over your skin softly, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. Whether you were sitting beside him, lost in conversation, or leaning against him by the fire, Amrod would tilt your chin up with a quiet, unspoken request. He adored the way you would smile slightly in response, knowing that this small kiss carried the weight of all the tenderness he didn’t often express openly. It was his way of grounding you, making you feel safe, and showing you how much he cared without needing to say anything at all.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amras

The top of your head. It was a casual yet affectionate act that came so naturally to him. You’d often be standing or sitting in front of him, unaware of how his gaze would soften as he reached out and pressed his lips against your hair. Whether you were wrapped up in a blanket, half-asleep in his arms, or simply leaning against him as the day drew to a close, he found comfort in this small, affectionate gesture. His kiss was always accompanied by the gentle press of his hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he pulled you a little closer. It was an intimate touch, one that never failed to make you feel cherished and loved.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celebrimbor

Your hands. Whether he was working in his forge or meticulously sketching a design, whenever you were near, he’d take your hand in his and press his lips to your knuckles, his eyes filled with a quiet devotion. There was something intimate about the way his lips lingered there, a silent acknowledgement of the trust and affection that flowed between you. He’d always smile afterwards, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if it was his secret way of expressing his feelings. Whether you were walking through the halls of Eregion or sitting with him in the glow of his forge, his kisses on your hands felt like small promises.

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[doodle-pops]

When Kissing Them Goes Wrong | House of Elrond + Glorfindel

「 ✦ Elrond ✦ 」

It had been a quiet moment in his study when you decided to steal a kiss. Sitting by the large window, Elrond welcomed you into his lap with a soft smile. As your lips met, the warmth of the moment enveloped you both—until the door creaked open. Without warning, Glorfindel strolled in, immediately freezing in place.

“Elrond, I—oh. I see,” Glorfindel said, his eyes wide with realisation.

You scrambled to move, but in your haste, your foot slipped off Elrond’s knee and you ended up headbutting him right in the nose. Without a second to lose, Elrond winced, one hand flying to his face while Glorfindel stood awkwardly, halfway out the door but unable to look away.

“I’ll…come back later,” Glorfindel muttered before disappearing as swiftly as he arrived.

Elrond’s face was a mix of pain and amusement. “That could’ve gone better,” he said, chuckling softly through a slightly pained grimace.

“Sorry,” you groaned while hiding your face.

「 ✦ Erestor ✦ 」

You leaned in for a kiss while Erestor was in the middle of cataloguing some ancient texts. He had been so focused that when you pressed your lips to his, he was caught off guard and jerked back—right into a stack of precariously balanced scrolls.

With a loud thud, half the table’s contents tumbled down, followed by a crash as Erestor lost his footing and nearly brought you both to the floor. The two of you stared in silence, tangled awkwardly in each other’s arms, surrounded by the scattered chaos of centuries-old manuscripts.

“Romantic,” he muttered dryly, eyeing the mess with mild exasperation. You bit back a laugh, but when you met his gaze, the ridiculousness of the situation hit you both, and you broke into uncontrollable giggles.

「 ✦ Elrohir ✦ 」

Elrohir had just leaned in, his eyes soft and intent as he closed the distance between you two. You mirrored his movement, but at the last second, you both miscalculated—your teeth clacked together painfully. You pulled back instantly, hands flying to your mouth, while Elrohir winced, rubbing his jaw.

“Ow,” you both said in unison, looking at each other with wide-eyed surprise.

Elrohir let out a breathless laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “We might need to work on our coordination,” he said, smiling despite the pain. You couldn’t help but laugh too, the sting of the moment fading in the face of his lightheartedness.

「 ✦ Elladan ✦ 」

Elladan had pulled you into a spontaneous kiss by the riverbank, and just as it was getting sweet, he stumbled over an unseen rock. The next thing you know, he was falling backwards, taking you with him. You landed with a splash in the shallow water, the cold sending a shock through both of you, more you as it prompted gasps and whines.

Elladan, now soaking wet, sat up and wiped the water out of his face, sputtering. “Well, that was smooth,” he groaned, glaring at the offending rock. You couldn’t help but burst into laughter as he offered you a dripping hand to help you up.

“Next time, maybe a little less enthusiasm?” you teased, grinning through the water streaming down your face.

「 ✦ Glorfindel ✦ 」

You had found a quiet corner in the garden, a perfect spot for a stolen kiss with Glorfindel. The soft petals of the flowers surrounded you, creating an intimate atmosphere. As you leaned in, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Just as your lips touched, an ever-so-helpful breeze picked up, sending petals swirling around you like confetti.

Caught up in the moment a little too much, Glorfindel tried to maintain his balance, but the sudden gust led to the petals clinging to his skin, sending him into a spiral of ticklish sensation, prompting him to stumble. His foot caught on a root, and he lost his footing, tumbling backwards into a nearby rosebush with a yelp. You couldn’t help but gasp and then burst into laughter as he emerged, his hair a wild mess, covered in petals and thorns.

“Charming, isn’t it?” he said, trying to salvage his dignity while carefully disentangling himself from the prickly branches.

“You look like a flower bouquet gone wrong,” you teased, giggling as he shot you a playful glare, half-annoyed but clearly amused.

“Next time, we kiss away from the plants,” he grumbled, smirking despite his predicament. His laughter joined yours.

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[doodle-pops]

Kissing Them Mid-Conversation | House of Elrond + Doriath

「 ✦ Elrond ✦ 」

Elrond had been deep in discussion with you, his voice calm and authoritative as he explained some historical details of Valinor’s history. His eyes were bright with knowledge, the gentle cadence of his speech captivating as always. But you found yourself less focused on his words and more on the way his lips moved, the elegant arch of his eyebrows, the softness in his eyes that contrasted so beautifully with the wisdom they held. You didn’t plan it, but the next thing you knew, you leaned forward and kissed him, silencing him mid-sentence.

His words were cut off as his lips met yours. His initial surprise only lasted a moment before his shoulders relaxed, and he melted into the kiss, his hand instinctively finding its way to your cheek. The conversation was forgotten entirely as he returned the kiss, slow and tender, savouring the moment. When you finally pulled back, he didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you with a faint smile, his fingers brushing your jawline. He chuckled softly, as though the interruption was the most natural thing in the world. No more history for now—he was entirely yours in that moment.

「 ✦ Erestor ✦ 」

You’d been going over a strategy with Erestor, his mind sharp and focused as always. His attention was entirely on the plans spread out before you, his fingers tracing the edges of the map. But as he leaned over the table, the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, the way his lips moved as he muttered to himself—it was all too tempting. Without warning, you reached up and kissed him, cutting through the tension in the air.

Erestor blinked in shock, straightening immediately as if unsure of what just happened. His cheeks flushed a deep red, utterly unprepared for the interruption. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, utterly at a loss for words. His eyes flickered between the map and you as if trying to regain his composure. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “That...was unexpected,” he managed much softer than before. He didn’t scold you, but his lips curved into a rare smile, and despite the heat in his cheeks, there was a warmth in his eyes that told you he enjoyed it.

「 ✦ Elrohir ✦ 」

Elrohir had been telling you a story, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, his usual brightness and energy captivating. His smile was contagious, his laughter genuine, and you couldn’t stop yourself. Mid-sentence, as he grinned widely at something he’d said, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, interrupting him without a second thought.

His initial reaction was a surprised inhale, his body stilling as he processed what had just happened. But in the span of a heartbeat, he was already leaning into the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He didn’t waste time—he deepened the kiss, his enthusiasm carrying over into this new, far more intimate moment. The conversation was forgotten entirely as he pulled you closer, his lips warm and insistent. When you finally broke apart, he was grinning like a mischievous child caught in the act. “Well, if that’s how you want to interrupt, I’m not complaining,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with playful intent. He wasn’t interested in resuming the conversation anytime soon.

「 ✦ Elladan ✦ 」

Elladan had been in the middle of explaining something to you, his voice smooth and steady, as usual, his expression thoughtful. But you weren’t really listening. You were too distracted by the way his lips formed each word, the way his eyes flicked between you and whatever he was talking about. So you cut him off mid-sentence with a kiss, your lips pressing against his before he could even finish his thought.

His breath froze at the unexpected affection. He blinked, stunned for a brief moment, but then he smiled against your lips. He gently returned the kiss, his hand resting on your waist as if he’d been waiting for an excuse to stop talking all along. When you pulled away, he gave you a knowing look, his eyes gleaming with playful amusement. “If you wanted me to stop talking, you could’ve just asked,” he murmured teasingly in a lower register, though he made no effort to move away from you. The conversation was clearly no longer a priority for him.

「 ✦ Thingol ✦ 」

You had been deep in conversation with Thingol, the great Elven king discussing matters of Doriath with his usual enthusiasm. His words were important, of course, but the way his eyes shone in the soft light, the slight curl of his lips when he smiled—it was all far too distracting. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him mid-sentence, startling him out of his train of thought.

Thingol stiffened at first, caught entirely off guard by your sudden boldness. His words faltered, and for a moment, he looked utterly stunned. But then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His regal composure softened, and he tilted his head slightly, returning the kiss with a gentle, deliberate tenderness. When you pulled back, he chuckled, low and rich, shaking his head. “You’re a distraction,” he said, amusement clear in his tone. His eyes sparkled, and though he was clearly amused, there was no annoyance in his expression. He lifted a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your skin before murmuring, “But a welcome one.”

「 ✦ Beleg ✦ 」

Beleg had been talking about a recent hunt, his eyes bright with excitement as he recounted the details. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but watch him with growing affection. He looked so alive, so utterly captivating, that you found yourself leaning in and kissing him right in the middle of his sentence.

He felt him pause, completely caught off guard. His eyes widened, cheeks flushing a deep red as he tried to process what had just happened. For a second, he seemed utterly at a loss, but then a grin broke across his face. “Well, that’s one way to stop me from rambling,” he quipped. He pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Though I can’t say I mind.” There was a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at you, clearly enjoying your boldness. The conversation was forgotten entirely, replaced by the warmth of his embrace.

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[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This was so much I wrote!! For some reason I felt like I made a few of them OOC, but what the hell. It's an AU, so they’ll all be different from the regular Silm verse 😆. I think I broke my wrist whilst breaking a sweat thinking of different scenarios for each of them, but I managed to make it to the finish line! Alas, the final piece! ಥ_ಥ

Warnings: arranged marriage, there are minor angst themes, neglect and loneliness, rejection, comfort and happy endings for most except (Feanor)

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Feanor

He’s not known as Fëanáro without reason. When those words came out of his father’s mouth, as much as he adored his father, he was incensed by the level and nature of the dictation he was subjected to. He felt he was unjustly punished for some unknown transgression by Eru through this method.

Don’t anticipate him to even breathe, let alone glance in your direction when you’re observing him. He would gladly lock eyes with your figure when you’re not paying attention and scrutinize you without remorse. There’s nothing you could say to convince him of your innocence in this arrangement.

He assumes that you had a say in choosing your spouse because he’s Fëanáro, the firstborn and Crown Prince, and everyone desired him. Though politics and royal duties didn’t interest him, he was now aware of the political rationale behind the union. Eventually, he resists continuing his resentment towards his father because his father was compelled into it (in his opinion).

This resembles a Bridgerton moment, akin to King George and Queen Charlotte, where you reside in one house while he lives in another, a significant distance away. His father can complain all he wants about the lack of effort to establish a connection, and Fëanáro would simply ignore and roll his eyes.

Throughout the arranged marriage, you will feel completely alienated and rejected. There was a time when you were excited about being wed to the Crown Prince, even though your freedom was being curtailed. Even at events where you’re expected to appear as a couple, you arrive in separate coaches.

Do not expect him to hold your hand or have your arm around his elbow. Fëanáro takes the commitment seriously, as he feels his own freedom has been taken away. Talking to him is futile, for he will merely pretend to listen while focusing on getting drunk to forget the entire night.

“Why do you despise me so much? You act as if I am the cause of this entire arrangement when it is your father who is responsible. Listen, if you intend to ignore me, it might be best if we end this, as I did not willingly sign up for this mistreatment, especially from you. We can part ways and continue our separate lives, or if we are to continue, at least afford me the same respect you expect.”

You displayed remarkable courage by confronting his tantrums and earning yourself a few withering side–glances filled with anger and disbelief, because “How dare you speak to me so openly, as if we are equals?!” Kudos to you; you’ve just earned yourself another round of silence for the remainder of the night and week, perhaps even into the afterlife.

Fëanáro has no intention of making your marriage work. Eru could punish him, but he’d simply retort and carry on with his life. It’s all about his belief that he’s being coerced into the same situation as his father and his determination to avoid making that mistake.

If this arrangement is to succeed, you’ll need to pray seven times an hour, every day, for the rest of your life for divine intervention. Otherwise, you’ll be left complaining about his behaviour and treatment while he remains unruffled.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

He had anticipated this situation due to the constant rivalry between his father and his half–uncle, who incessantly engaged in banter to prove the superiority of their respective families. He often found himself thrust into the forefront of this unnecessary competition. Therefore, he approached the arrangement with a sense of neutrality (lie! he chats his mother’s ear off).

As the firstborn of the heir, he fully comprehends the specific obligations that accompany his title and embraces them wholeheartedly. So, when you join your parents for the first meeting, he gracefully accepts his fate as your husband (although he sheds a few tears in private to his mother).

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady/Lord Y/N. I am Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo, your betrothed. I sincerely hope that in the brief time before our wedding, we can learn a lot to make our journey as a married couple smoother. Please, do not hesitate to inform me of any discomforts you may encounter, and I will do my utmost to ensure your well–being. Remember, I am your husband, not your master. Have no fear as we build a life together.”

He is a polite and reserved individual, leaning more towards propriety than humour. He barely possesses a funny bone and seldom indulges in levity, which can be one of the more challenging aspects of the marriage. Nevertheless, he is respectful, stands up for you, is considerate, and fulfils all the duties of a husband.

However, he respects your boundaries when it comes to intimacy, acknowledging that you both are strangers. This means separate sleeping arrangements. All other spaces, such as the kitchen, dining room, reading room, coaches, and carriages, are shared.

As a husband, he typically leaves most decisions up to you, entrusting you with the role of household caretaker and offering his input only when you seek an additional opinion or when he believes a change is necessary.

During the initial stages of your relationship, he hopes that you can build good bonds with the rest of his family, particularly his brothers and parents. He is observant of your reactions and interactions with them and adjusts accordingly if he senses any discomfort.

Despite his efforts to avoid such emotions, he becomes sentimental when he reflects on the life he has created with you, even if it feels somewhat mechanical. The absence of arguments and the harmonious atmosphere in the house bring him joy. There are moments of awkwardness, but you’ve both learned to overcome them (and the first time you saw him laugh was when you attempted to make a joke about it).

As your marriage progresses, you encounter numerous highs and lows, primarily stemming from the political aspects. You have expressed your discontent with being treated as a trophy and being involved in unnecessary competition, despite knowing this from the outset. Dealing with this, particularly from his father, is a challenge that you and Maedhros will face together.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Maglor is just as composed as his older brother, but he doesn’t quite align with the idea of both of you being used for political and competitive purposes. He grapples with the notion that Maedhros accepted the idea of an arranged marriage for political gain so readily. Now, he feels a profound sadness that he can’t freely choose someone to capture his heart.

However, Maglor makes sure that your time together never feels forced or obligatory. He disapproves of the constant reminder of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. He’s dedicated to making your marriage healthy and happy, erasing any memory of your freedom being taken away.

Inheriting his mother’s temperament, Maglor is a pillar of strength for your concerns and worries. If you ever feel like you’re falling short of the arrangement’s expectations, or if you’re fearful, confused, unhappy, or distant, he encourages you to confide in him without hesitation. After all, he’s your husband and should be your confidant.

The perk of living with Maglor is a home constantly filled with music and music sheets. You may grumble about the sheets being everywhere but his music room, but he melts away any tension by serenading you with songs dedicated to you. It’s his way of expressing his genuine affection and appreciation for having you in his life.

“I’d like to dedicate my next song to someone I’ve grown close to in such a short time. They’ve found their way into my heart, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. This song is for them, to show how much I truly care and consider them a dear part of my life. So, without further ado, my next piece is in honour of my wonderful spouse.”

Though he may put you on the spot, he hopes that you’ll be moved by his heartfelt dedication. He isn’t being manipulative; his intentions are sincere, and he genuinely appreciates having you in his life.

Among his brothers, Maglor stands out as the most understanding and the one who despises the mistreatment of the arranged marriage. He firmly shuts down conversations that dwell on the circumstances of how you ended up together and replaces them with whimsical tales of your imaginary first encounters. His theatrical skills come into play as he playfully flirts and teases you, creating a charming and flirtatious atmosphere.

Only when you’re comfortable, does he extend his hand or arm for you to hold, patiently listen to your conversations, or spend time planning extravagant surprises.

Throughout your marriage, Maglor’s primary aim is to provide comfort and eliminate any tension or discomfort. You’ll have a loving husband who will fiercely defend your marriage against anyone who challenges it.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Another individual who defiantly scoffs at the arrangement, dismissing it because no one would dare challenge his freedom. Unfortunately, much to his discontent, the news proved true. As a result, he’s now in a fit of rage, flipping tables, and has disappeared for weeks, remaining unseen and unheard.

Tyelko isn’t present during the initial weeks of the arrangement, as he’s off wandering in the forest, complaining to Orome about the perceived unfairness of the situation. All the while, you are left alone in the new house. One can only imagine the shock he’ll experience upon his return.

His return is facilitated by Orome, who encourages him to give the arrangement a chance and approach it with an open mind. Thanks to Orome, your first meeting with Tyelko is relatively amicable, as he meets you standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on your face.

The look of concern you give him is unsettling for Tyelko, as he is accustomed to expecting anger for behaviour. Not knowing how to respond, he might inadvertently snap, making him come across as a jerk. This leads to you becoming reclusive to avoid triggering his temper, making his plan to scare you off fail.

Tyelko soon realises that you rarely speak or interact with him, leaving him to his own devices with homecooked meals and a comforting, caring tone. You even avoid making eye contact when he addresses you directly, leading him to conclude that you’re afraid or hate him.

“Why do you still treat me this way when I have been unpleasant? I don’t like it or enjoy how you look at me. Why must you still care for me when I have been unbothered? Are you manipulating me into feeling guilty? Because if that is the case, I can leave if it stops this unpleasant play. Just why are you still friendly with me?”

You could see the uneasiness in his posture prompting you to feel a sense of pity for neglecting an unheard-of side of him and the pleading tone makes you realise his sincerity. He genuinely wants to know how to end the discomfort in the house.

Accustomed to his harsh nature as described by others, you had found it difficult to imagine him being soft. It was a start in breaking the ice with your views and how you had perceived him to be during the arrangement. To which he scoffed at how you easily fell for the rumours of his roughness (he knows that he’s rough around the edges, but refuses to admit it).

Tyelko cautiously falls into the routine of becoming a caretaker alongside you since you gave him no reason to be hostile. All he can do is hope for the best. He’s still hesitant to let go of his freedom as it brings him peace of mind.

He eventually finds himself slowly warming up to the idea of you doing your best to understand and not readily judge. This eases the preconceived notions he had about you from the beginning. He thought your demeanour was all a façade to control him.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

Two distinct reactions unfold the moment he’s abruptly brought up to speed with his situation: firstly, he swears, and secondly, he makes a swift attempt to escape the room. This was far from the life he had envisioned for himself, or any different from what his family had endured. He had heard of such unfortunate circumstances befalling others but never fathomed that he too would become a victim.

He seems rather brooding during the entire introduction, and he’s taken aback by the familiar expression mirrored on your face. He had assumed that you would be delighted, as many individuals often eagerly vie for the role of a prince’s spouse, particularly from the first house.

He remains quiet and distant, wanting to intensify your the distance between. Both of you share similar attitudes towards marriage and living habits, which results in minimal attempts at interaction, with each of you occupying different ends of the house.

Polite greetings are given from your end while he silently grumbles and mutters incomprehensible phrases. You take it as a sign that he doesn’t wish to communicate. Though at times, you tend to feel the weight of his gaze on you, and if you catch him staring, he quickly averts his gaze, returning to his displeasure state.

It’s a significant challenge for him to partially embrace the role of a suitable husband, given the constant reminder of the unexpected circumstances that brought you together. Expressing himself has always been a struggle when in times of comfort forsaken, leading to Caranthir muttering his words grumpily.

“I’m not quite certain how to put this into words, but I want us to be on the same page during this arrangement. So, I’d like to know your expectations and views of me. This way, if I am to avoid you or limit our interactions to prevent any discomfort or tension, I can meet them.”

It’s not an easy task for him to forge a tiny connection when the circumstances makes it daring. He has to be mindful of his temper while closely observing your reactions to his actions. He critically assesses every aspect and draws conclusions accordingly.

When in his own environment and free from intrusion, he attempts to gradually involve you in his world by silently inviting you through non-verbal gestures. You have to get use to the fact that he doesn’t appreciate talking too much. This can offer insight into his true self, allowing you to connect more deeply.

However, as your relationship with Caranthir continues to develop, there are bound to be ups and downs, especially when dealing with his outbursts triggered by various factors or his siblings’ relentless teasing. One way to show your appreciation for your place beside him is by coming to his defence.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Curufin

I’d like to say he’s Feanor 2.0 in terms of his ideas and approach. However, since it’s Feanor orchestrating the arrangement, Curufin is fully on board and understands his father’s perspective on the benefits. I mean, he’s just as competitive as his father, which is the primary reason behind this arrangement.

Curufin perceives this as a political strategy that he must honour and uphold. From the day you met him, he has had no hesitation in stepping forward and reminding you of the duties you must fulfil as his spouse and the newest member of his household. Your loyalty to him must be unwavering.

Although your initial impression of him left you thinking he was controlling and demanding, all Curufin desires from you, aside from his earlier requests, is your comfort and happiness while living with him. You want to expand your house, sure. You desire a spacious backyard, certainly. You hope for more gifts, without a doubt. If you want to discuss your feelings, he’ll make an effort. If you need space, he’s willing to compromise.

I’m serious about this one; you’ll need to compromise with him if you want your own space—by that, I mean wanting to live separately. If you want separate rooms, he can work with that. Curufin has proper etiquette when it comes to the comfort of those he holds dear.

His top priority is to treat his spouse with the utmost care and respect, ensuring all your needs are met. The only thing he asks is that you don’t take advantage of his vulnerability and exert undue control over him.

“As your husband, it is my duty to ensure that all your needs are met, and in return, I expect the same from you. Whatever you require, please come forward and inform me; there’s no need to conceal your desires. Lay them on the table, and we can work on them together as we were intended to do. I also request that you maintain your dignity and pride when it comes to our new household and family, and everything will go smoothly. Furthermore, I ask that you don’t exploit my kindness and keep our personal life within the confines of our home.”

The entire arrangement may sound controlling and suffocating, but Curufin allows you your freedom. He believes in reciprocity—what he wants for himself, he’s willing to provide in return. He puts in his utmost effort to meet your needs, as long as you show the same enthusiasm.

When he attends an event, his greatest desire is for you to accompany him. He takes pride in showcasing his craftsmanship through the pieces he has created especially for you. He spends hours crafting an array of jewellery to match your preferences.

The surprising aspect of this marriage is his firm stance on conversations concerning your arrangement and your relationship. Everyone is aware of it, but he doesn’t allow others to discuss it, not even his brothers. He sees you as his spouse with the arrangement being a thing of the past.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amrod

Much like Tyelko, Amrod possesses a rebellious spirit, often disappearing when the harsh reality of his situation becomes too apparent. When he does, it’s typically in search of his mother’s advice and assistance. His primary concern is unravelling the mystery of his father’s role in this arranged marriage. Sadly, his suspicions are confirmed as Nerdanel had no say in the matter; it was entirely Feanor’s competitive nature that drove it.

His mother’s invaluable advice to him was to make the best of the situation and take time to get to know you before making any serious commitments. She became his go–to source of guidance whenever he found himself in a tight spot.

Fast forward to the time when he meets you, he’s fully aware that you aren’t thrilled about the arrangement and even contemplated an escape before the introduction. It hurt to hear that you were reluctant to give him a chance, as he was open to doing so. This prompted his dedication to ensuring that the time you spent with him was worthwhile.

Much like Maglor, he’s determined to fill your days with joy and dispel the clouds of resentment, all while maintaining a respectful distance to avoid overstepping any boundaries. Whenever your responses leave him puzzled, he frequently seeks advice from his mother.

Simultaneously, he avoids his father due to his disgust at being essentially bartered like a commodity for his father’s satisfaction. Any discussion related to his marriage is swiftly shut down, and he walks away. He has no interest in hearing comments or mockery about the arrangement.

However, there’s no need to worry because he receives guidance from his mother. If you wish to converse with him, he encourages you to speak openly and share your thoughts without fear. He wants to hear your perspective on things.

“Please understand that I may not be the most well–known among my siblings, and you may have heard little about me. Nonetheless, please don’t hesitate to express your thoughts. While we may not be romantically involved or incredibly close, I will do my utmost to work towards a harmonious relationship. Please give me the opportunity to build something prosperous between us.”

Amrod is dedicated to establishing a secure friendship between the two of you before any romantic involvement comes into play. He aims to create a space where you can feel comfortable and relaxed without the weight of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. There’s no rush, and you both have the time to sort out your duties and positions as your friendship grows.

Throughout your journey from friendship to romance, Amrod maintains a gentlemanly demeanour. Though you may encounter some challenges along the way, they will be infrequent. Your relationship won’t be flawless, as it’s impossible to forget that you were both thrust into this arrangement without your consent. However, it’s something you can bond over and find common ground to overcome your fears.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amras

The quieter of the two siblings, Amras, maintains his silence even when informed of his situation. His irritation is clearly visible on his face, which leaves you anxious about what to anticipate. He reserves his complaints for private conversations with his twin and mother, all due to his father’s insistence on marriage, which he feels is encroaching on his freedom.

Amras’s silence remains constant from the moment you first met him. Your relationship is marred by a sense of being strangers living under the same roof. He refrains from even greeting you, still seething over the situation and pondering how to express his anger.

Despite his understanding that you played no part in arranging this engagement, Amras can’t prevent his anger from simmering. It’s not directed at you but rather at both sets of parents for their low regard for both of you. Amras struggles to find a way to communicate his feelings without intimidating you.

Amras notices your tendency to distance yourself whenever you’re in the same room with him or when you shrink under his silently judgmental gaze. Your eyes rarely meet his, and when they do, you quickly look away. Your actions make him feel as though he has harmed you or been hostile towards you at some point.

“Could it be that you...resent me for the circumstances that have come between us? You hardly speak to me even when I desire it, fearing rejection and silence. I can sense your anger over what your parents have done, and I share that anger. Perhaps we could attempt to build something together, starting as acquaintances and moving from there.”

His voice breaks, and he likely breaks down, allowing you to witness his vulnerability as he cries. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. All he wants is your guidance and support to navigate the storm he’s been thrust into. You are the only lifeline in the ocean he can rely on, just as you rely on him.

Amras may appear somewhat awkward, much like Caranthir, as he observes you in your element, awed by your ability to remain resolute. He is eager to assist and hopes that you will show him what is expected of him, as he has few memories of his parents’ dynamics and relationships.

His primary goal is to become the best husband possible for you, but he first wants to establish a basic foundation and compatibility. He follows you like an eager puppy, observing your features and silently appreciating your beauty. He feels fortunate to have ended up with someone good.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

The moment those words escape his advisor’s lips, he feels a strong urge to toss them out the window. The idea of following his family’s tradition makes Tyelpë shudder. He neither desires marriage nor believes he’s capable of being a great husband, haunted as he is by his old life. He fears that others assume he will repeat his family’s mistakes.

Despite his personal reservations, he acknowledges the political necessity of the situation for the betterment of his kingdom. Consequently, he has no choice but to go with the flow and bear the burden. Upon being introduced to you, he maintains a stiff demeanour, silently repeating to himself, “Don’t mess up, don’t scare them.”

His conduct in this moment is heavily influenced by the obligation he feels toward the prosperity of his people, even though he resents it. Tyelpë can’t help but grind his teeth at the thought, as he believes there must be alternative ways to improve his homeland. However, like everyone else except Feanor, Tyelpe is reserved, observant, and respectful. He listens to you chatter on about the benefits of unifying both kingdoms while silently stewing in his own thoughts.

Polite and approachable, he makes an effort to ensure you don’t feel alienated by his role as your future husband. He respects your boundaries and the need for distance between you, given that you are still strangers.

“Please do not harbour any ill feelings toward me for the choices I’ve made to secure myself. We are still in the process of getting to know each other, and my intentions are far from ostracising you. The concept of an arranged marriage and warming up to a stranger from a distant land is still a challenge for me. I have much to learn, so I ask for your patience.”

During the pre–courtship period before your marriage, Tyelpë is a gentleman and crafts small trinkets as tokens of his growing fondness for you. These may include a hairpin, hair comb, bracelet, earrings, or a simple pendant necklace. He saves the more extravagant designs for when he becomes more accustomed to his role as your partner.

While you need not fear his temper, he kindly requests that you refrain from flaunting your relationship in public, even though everyone is aware of the arrangement. Tyelpë values his privacy and would be disappointed if his personal life became a topic of discussion.

Be prepared to spend nights alone in bed, as he isn’t yet comfortable sharing his personal space. He might suggest having separate chambers until some time has passed and he’s warmed up to the idea of closer proximity. He simply asks for your understanding, as his reclusive tendencies are his source of comfort.

The only potential challenge you may face is his reclusive behaviour persisting for a longer period than expected. He is aware that you may eventually come to terms with being paired with him, but he struggles with it. There are unresolved issues from his past that he needs to address before fully embracing someone new in his life.

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House of Fingolfin | Wanting Another Round

A/N: *head pats and kisses for everyone* Enjoy!

Warnings: smut, female reader, marathon sex, multiple orgasms, rough sex, dacryphilia (squint), manhandling, pet names being used (princess, sweetheart, sweet girl), daddy kink (single use)

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fingolfin — He’s commanding when he wants to go another round, always convincing you that the number you’ve already experienced isn’t enough and one more is required.

Achieving your umpteenth orgasm and bowing your back off the bed, your back collided with your husband’s chest and the delicious roll of your nipples against his sweaty skin elicited a heavenly moan from both your throats. His hands were gripping your legs, spreading them further apart while his hips continued to slap against your ass without remorse. He fucked you through your orgasm and was about to fuck you into a new one, not caring whether or not you could give him another. You were going to give him another.

“Squeezing me love. Hmm, you feel so heavenly around me,” he whispered against your ears as his seductive eyes were locked on your puffy lips taking his cock. He was living for the sight of more. “Are you going to give your daddy one more? You look like you need another.”

The slick sound of his cock sliding in and out your heat echoed loudly with the lewd sounds escalating with each thrust. His balls were heavy and still full of unreleased cum that he planned on emptying before the night was over, and you were going to take every drop. Curling your nails into the sheets as his cock rubbed against that one spot repetitively, your eye lids drooped and rolled at the same time, leading to your head dropping into the sheets, causing him to hauntingly laugh.

“Close already darling?” he mocked as he pounded into your harder and reached down to pinch your clit, eliciting a squeal.

“Ñolo…ngghh, I can’t—please. I can’t cum again. I don’t…I–I…” You bite your lips in attempt to prevent a high-pitched whine as he stopped his thrusting to rest the tip of his cock against your sweet spot. The weight of his tip left you choking on sobs and squirming within his hold to escape his devilry.

“You can’t cum for me again? Is that what you’re telling me, sweetness?” Pecking your shoulder with a teasing laugh following.. “I wasn’t asking you love; I was telling you that you will cum for me again. No ifs and no buts.”

Without wasting a second, he slid his cock all the way out with teasing intentions until the tip remained inside before slamming his hips against yours with vigour. Your nails tugged at the sheets and dug deeply into the fabric, producing minor rips making him pound away harder, while your cries increased.

“Just like that, sweetness. Let yourself go for me,” he smirked. “It’s what your pretty pussy deserves.”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fingon — guilt trips you into giving him another round because he can’t get enough of you with a few pouting and pleads.

Feeling heavy hands pushing your stomach into the mattress while your head remained buried in the sheets, your eye lulled and drooped from the torrent of pounding you were receiving from behind. There was nowhere to escape, no running away and fighting back; just lying there and taking all the pounding your poor tired pussy was experiencing for the nth time tonight. You didn’t know how many orgasms you past through since you started, but from the way your legs were shaking, you knew it was more than five.

“Finno…I–I can’t—my legs. I can’t cum again, too much,” you whined into the bed in a slightly muffled voice before feeling his fingers grip the back of your neck to crane your head upwards. At the same time, he purposefully aimed his cock to pound against your sweet spot to elicit loud and clear squeals from you.

Grinning, he broke into chuckle at the pretty sounds you made for him, clearly displaying that you were more than capable of giving him another orgasm and a few more before the night was over. With a sharp glance at your ass jiggling at it collided with his hips, he dipped his head to brush his lips beside your ear, kissing the tip. “But I barely got enough of you tonight, princess, and I wanted to make you cum more times,” he whined. “Let me make you cum again, please sweetheart? Let me make you feel good; stretch you out nice and good. You asked me to take of you, so let me, sweetheart. Give in…”

You couldn’t resist those familiar words; your body knew them too well and always crumbled under the slightest whisper. On instinct, Fingon felt your walls clamping down on his cock as his pounding continued, massaging him just the way he enjoyed. In return, he rewarded you with the constant punishing of his cock head against your sweet spot to push you over the edge. His lips were attached to your neck as he added more hickeys to the earlier artistry and whispering more filth into your ear.

“Just like love, just let yourself go and make me feel good. I’ll take good care of you; make you cum all over my cock, pretty girl,” he purred as pushed his cock all the way to the hilt, making his balls slap louder against your clit.

“Finno…” you panted as your eyes rolled into your head. “Ngghh, I–I…can feel…”

“I know pretty girl, I know.” That was all he needed before placing the rest of his weight atop you, pinning you under him as he pushed you over the edge, making your cream all over his cock with the urge of not stopping.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Turgon — silently manhandles the fuck out of you when he wants another round and so you’re left there taking his pounding.

As soon as you came down from your orgasm, you felt your body floating among the clouds one minute, before it was being snatched away and brought back to earth by the sudden dragging of your body off the bed. Snapping your eyes open, you came face to face with Turgon as he rested your legs in the crooks of his elbows, spreading you open, before he stood at the foot of the bed with you suspended in his arms. Immediately your arms wrapped around his neck, while one of his hands slipped between your bodies to align his cock with your wet pussy. Without a proper warm up, he impaled you onto his cock, pushing all of him in you.

You were unable to scramble out of his hold since it was a warrior’s grip that kept you secure and impaled on his thick cock. All you could do was whine and tremble as the aftershocks of your orgasm made your pussy extra sensitive to his touch, and his disregards to easing you on his cock went out the window. In his mind, you were taking it fine a minute ago, so there was no need to be gentle.

“Turu–…káno…” you whined and looked down as he slowly, yet deeply, moved you up and down his cock, making you feel him all the way in your guts. Your eyes rolled and twitched while your hands slapped against his chest and back. He held no remorse for the push he was sending your body into since it was benefiting for him to feel and enjoy the pure tightness of your pussy squeezing and milking his cock.

“Hmm, relax and enjoy the feeling of my cock love. I’ll take good care of you,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and tossed his head back, relishing in the sensation of your walls massaging his cock and the warmth. “We’re far from finished for the night.”

“I don’t think I can–…can cum again. ‘M too sensitive,” you struggled, feeling the air being knocked out your lungs.

Smirking as he listened to your words, he bent down to kneel on the bed edge and rested you back against the soft mattress. With your legs still spread and the perfect sight of your pussy welcoming his cock, Turgon groaned and switched his pace to deep and body-shaking pounding. You could feel your skeleton rattling from the heavy and calculated thrusts he was sending your way.

“You’re just right to cum again for me, love. You’re doing so well, just give me one more and I’ll reward you.”

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon — sweetly asks you for one more round because he can’t get enough of you.

Nuzzling his face into your sweaty neck, he breathed in your scent and planted a litter of kisses to the same area. Instinctively, Argon’s arms encircled your waist and pulled you into his body with the purpose of dragging you on top on him. Unknowingly, your body easily followed as you were caught up in the rapture of the affections he gave so sweetly. His hands roamed your body, touching and groping your thighs, squeezing your ass, running his fingers up and down your back and sneakily cupping your breasts.

The sound of your laughter waffling through the air filled him with delight as he deepened the kiss and turned his light pecks into prying your lips apart to slip his tongue inside your mouth. The moment he gained entry, he tightened his arms around your waist and cupped your ass to rub his cock against your opening. Your wetness dripped onto his member and coated him in a delicious warmth which made him groan in your mouth.

“Can I slip inside? I want you again,” he pleaded against your lips as he broke the kiss. “Please, I’ll take control, just let me have you again.”

His whines and sweet pleads were like music to your ears the more he begged and rubbed the head of his cock through your folds and against your clit. Beads of his precum mixed with your slick the more he rubbed himself against you, and in return, you rocked your hips against him. Argon soft pants escaped his lips and fluttered through the air.

“You want to fuck my pussy, Káno? You want to feel me wrapped around your cock?” you purred against his lips and reached down to slip the head of his cock inside your entrance. The moment you did so, Argon lost all forms of self-restraint, planted his feet into the mattress and started pounding into your heat.

Both hands were gripping your ass as he pushed himself in and out your wet pussy, loving the inviting sensation that enveloped him with each thrust. All you were able to do was bow your head into his neck and hang on for the ride as he pounded into your rapidly and landed delicious slaps to your ass. Each squeak you released fuelled him to push himself deeper and make you see the stars. You were experiencing a plethora of pleasure when his mouth eventually joined in to latch onto your breasts and suckle.

His grunts reverberated throughout your body and mixed with your moans as he turned your insides in jello and remoulded it to his liking. The way his cock slid inside your pussy made you mewl and squirt all over his cock, pushing him to take you harder and to new heights as the evening turned into night.

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[doodle-pops]

Elrond With A Modern Medical!Reader in Valinor

Request: Not sure if this is fic or just headcanons but: Modern!reader in middle earth who was a neurosurgeon in her old life and is now in Valinor working with Elrond to translate medical concepts to elven language before she dies and help advance their medical practice. Some differences between elven and human biology are found out in the process, it’s all quite fascinating to them both. She assists in a few operations but I imagine they don’t have many surgical operations to do in times of peace because people just aren’t getting injured like they used to during the famed battles against Morgoth and Sauron in middle earth. She helps on occasion but them elves are graceful and not injury-prone. - Anon

A/N: I was having trouble turning this into a fic, and since you gave me the option, not minding if I did a headcanon, I went with the latter. I had fun writing this, I also made their relationship ambiguous. Enjoy!

When you happen to arrive in Valinor, dazed by its eternal beauty and tranquillity, Elrond, with all his calming presence and wise demeanour was the first to greet and help you settle down. He was kind to welcome you into his new home.

During your time there, you and Elrond spend countless hours in his extensive library, trying to translate complex medical texts and concepts into Quenya, while he marvels at the intricacies of human detail in neurosurgery. To him, the ability to heal the brain by getting so practical and up close was fascinating.

“You humans certainly love your precision and details,” he would say as he smiled while reading through a description of a delicate brain surgery. You on the other hand would laugh and tell him that not all humans are so meticulous, following up your comment by sharing more medical mishaps from your world.

It is when you discover the biological differences between elves and humans, that things in the work become all the more interesting. You discover that elves’ regenerative abilities allow for healing preparations to be cut down and rushed to the healing wing, unimportant. Just knowing this, leaves you speechless as he casually mentions recovering from an injury that would have left a human incapacitated.

“So you’re telling me that you can heal from a stab wound in a matter of days?” you ask, incredulously with jealousy lingering. Elrond would simply nod along with a serene smile as he continued to translate the prewritten text on the paper you provided. “I wish I had that. Would have saved me all those trips to the ER.”

Assisting in medical practices in Valinor is rare but rewarding. Elrond’s precise, yet holistic approach to medicine complements your surgical expertise perfectly. Together, you manage to save a few elves who came in with nasty injuries, mostly from hunting trips gone bad.

As time passes, you are further blown away when Elrond teaches you their famous art of healing through song and rare herbs, enchanting your understanding of medicine. You do find the elves’ ability to enter healing trances particularly fascinating.

“So you just…sing them better? Like kumbaya and poof! Healed?!” you asked one day as you attempted to wrap your head around the concept, prompting Elrond to chuckle. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”

As time passes, your collaboration deepens both your understanding and respect for each other’s knowledge and expertise. Elrond is continually impressed but your surgical and modern techniques, while you are captivated by the elves’ natural form of advanced healing practices. This welcomed late nights in the library often turning into philosophical discussions as Elrond is thrilled by your stories of modern technology, and you are equally captivated by his tales of Middle-Earth.

You even meet a few of his family members during your stay as words of another human dwelling in Valinor. “Wait, you all fought a literal Balrog? Those fiery beasts?” you asked one evening as you sat around a table chatting with those who encountered the creature. “If you all were in my world, you could have used a fire extinguisher to put the flames out, or just douse water on them.” You leave most of them in laughter and confusion.

Due to meeting other elves beside him, you get the opportunity to practice your healing methods on them, though, they rarely allow you to since they usually appear fine even when injured. “So you couldn’t have hit your head a little harder for me to have something to examine instead of magically healing?” you disappointedly asked one of Elrond’s family members.

That has been the relationship for most of the encounters when an elf decides to come in sporting an ‘injury’. “You said you cracked your skull four days ago while hunting but I’m not seeing any injury. Do you mind if I hit you so I can have an actual injury to work with?”

Like you, even Elrond has his moments of being light-hearted, despite his dry sense of humour, when things don’t go according to plan. If the technique is too complex, he’ll jokingly say, “Of course, if all else fails, we just use magic.” Of course, you blink at him wondering if he was being serious or joking.

The partnership between you and Elrond as your work in Valinor developed certain areas of elven magical was tedious but also worthwhile. Even the relationship between you brought each other comfort and upliftment. “I suppose I’ll be remembered as the strange human who brought surgical scalpels to the Blessed Realm and threatened to beat people in their heads,” you joked.

Elrond usual response is filled with a sense of gratitude as he makes a toast in your honour. “You will be remembered as a pioneer and someone we are grateful to have encountered. I am glad you were brought here,” he fondly cheered.

Even as your time in Valinor progresses, you and Elrond continue to explore new ways to incorporate your medical practices into their elven healing. Each time an elf stops by for healing, you sometimes have to threaten them to come in with noticeable head injuries or you’d give them, while other times, you are lucky to have something to deal with. At least, during your years there, you managed to get a lot done.

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Making You Flustered | House of Elrond + Doriath

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Elrond

Elrond loved the way your cheeks reddened whenever he leaned in close, pretending to inspect something trivial like the way you held your quill, the angle of your wrist when writing or the book you were reading. He didn’t need to be that close; it was entirely unnecessary, but it was a game he played. His subtle touches—like brushing a strand of hair behind your ear or gently resting a hand on your shoulder while standing far too near—always sent your heart racing.

He’d feign innocence, his expression neutral, but there was always the smallest hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. You’d catch him watching you from across the room, his gaze steady, knowing exactly how to get under your skin without saying a word. And each time, your flustered state only encouraged him more, making it a quiet, unspoken routine between you.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Erestor

Erestor had a knack for subtle teasing, and he enjoyed catching you off guard when you least expected it. He’d always find some excuse to lean over your shoulder while you were reading or reviewing documents, his breath warm against your ear as he pointed out something in the text. “You missed a spot,” he’d murmur, knowing full well that you hadn’t.

His words weren’t the issue—it was the closeness, the sudden proximity that left you stammering. He’d always move away before you could form a coherent reply, leaving you blinking and embarrassed as he returned to his desk, the faintest glimmer of amusement on his otherwise serious face. There was something undeniably satisfying to him about the way you’d blush, the way your composure crumbled so easily with just a word or a glance.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Elrohir

Elrohir had an easygoing charm that made it impossible to stay calm around him. He’d casually drape an arm around your shoulder as though it were the most natural thing in the world, pulling you close without any warning. The act itself wasn’t dramatic, but it was the way he’d grin down at you, entirely aware of how flustered it made you, that sent your heart racing.

He knew how to push your buttons—whether it was sitting a little too close, brushing his hand against yours, or teasing you with playful comments that left your face burning. When you tried to brush it off or roll your eyes, he’d only laugh, thoroughly amused by your reactions. He thrived on the tension, enjoying the way you squirmed under his teasing attention.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Elladan

Elladan wasn’t as subtle as his brother, but that didn’t make him any less skilled at making you blush. He’d purposely interrupt you during the most mundane moments, pulling you into a sudden embrace, playfully spinning you around when no one was looking or pulling you onto his lap when you wanted to sit.

His actions always left you at a loss for words. He’d compliment you out of nowhere, his tone so sincere and his gaze so intense that you couldn’t help but blush under the weight of it. And when you tried to respond, fumbling with your words, he’d just laugh, clearly enjoying how easily he could make you lose your cool.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Thingol

Thingol was subtle in his approach, but his regal demeanour made every glance and gesture more intense. He enjoyed making you flustered during council meetings or formal gatherings, catching your gaze with a lingering look from across the room, his eyes gleaming with amusement. When he spoke to you, his voice was always low and velvety, forcing you to lean in just to hear him, which only made your heart beat faster.

He had a way of standing too close without it being obvious, his presence overwhelming as you tried to maintain your composure. It was in the way his fingers brushed yours when handing you a scroll or the way he’d let his gaze linger a moment too long—leaving you flustered and trying to recover while he carried on with his usual grace.

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Beleg

Beleg had a playful side, and he loved to make you flustered during training or casual moments in the woods. He’d catch you off guard with a sudden tap on the shoulder or an unexpected, playful nudge while walking side by side. When you trained together, he’d close the distance during sparring, moving far too close under the guise of “demonstrating” a move, his smirk betraying his true intent.

You’d try to maintain focus, but the warmth of his body so near always made your mind go blank. He’d laugh when you faltered, knowing exactly what he was doing. He liked to tease, asking if you were distracted or if you needed him to demonstrate again, fully aware of the effect he had on you. His teasing was lighthearted, but it always left you feeling completely off-balance.

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