#Finrod imagine

[cambion-companion]

Hugging the Elves (blorbos)

Elrond ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Elrond is a healer, of both body and heart. His home of Rivendell is where those blessed enough to gain entry find refuge for their spirit. Elrond would hug like a father comforting his child, he would wrap you into a secure embrace. He smells like familiar spices and fresh warm cloth as you bury your head against his shoulder. The long sleeves of his robes wrap around your body and offer solace under their weight. He will smile down at you gently, a fond crinkling around his eyes full of wisdom and starlight.

Glorfindel

Sunshine incarnate, Glorfindel's hugs are enthusiastic and don't be surprised if he lifts you into his arms and twirls you around once or twice, especially if he has been on errantry and not seen you for a while. His long golden hair would get in both your faces and he would laugh, bell-like, as he gently brushes it away. He smells of a fresh summer breeze carrying the light scents of flowers and evergreen trees as you press your cheek to his chest. I also see him as being fond of taking your face in his hands, enjoying looking into your eyes and reading your emotions there. When you are in need of comfort be assured Glorfindel will always be ready to offer you a warm embrace as you bask in his glowing presence. His very touch is enough to chase away any creeping darkness from your mind. (yes I am madly in love with him can you not tell)

Arwen

Arwen doesn't hug very many people, so when she opens her arms to you it is a gift indeed. She smells of lilac and midsummer nights spent by the lake under the stars. Her hair is as soft as goose-down and the gossamer of her sleeves slips between your fingers. She holds the back of your head lightly as you lean against her, closing your eyes and enjoying the feel of her chin tucked against your head. Arwen will also peer into your eyes, as they are windows to your soul, and give you a soft understanding smile before engaging you in light conversation and laughter.

Thranduil

(as a brief aside, I do not at all like the characterization of Thranduil in the movies as they turned him into King Thingol of Doriath who is much different in temperament. thus, this will be based on his book self)

Thranduil is regal and guarded, yet he has a warmth about him you have grown accustomed to receiving from the Elves. Like Arwen he does not embrace others readily, but will receive your affection with a broad smile and happy chuckle. His hands placed securely on your upper back as you lean against him, breathing in his scent of juniper berries and pine. This hug will be brief but meaningful and leave you feeling elated and refreshed. He will then invite you to dine with them and perhaps accompany his folk into the forest to dance and frolic to the sound of harpists and singing.

Legolas

Legolas is full of laughter and wit and will accept your hug with joy, squeezing you tight against him as he ruffles your hair about in an affectionate manner. You bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale the smell of leather and woodsmoke. He will hold you against him for as long as you wish, even rocking you side to side if you remain in his arms for long. When you do pull away Legolas will grasp your forearms and beam at you, making a witty comment, his countenance brightening when you laugh.

Finrod

(Yes, I have to include this golden boy)

The first among Elves to befriend humans, even the first to see them, Finrod has a special place in his heart for his mortal friends. He loves giving and receiving hugs and will wrap you in his arms readily and with reverence. His golden hair tickles your face and he laughs, looking down at you as you scrunch your nose at the sensation. Finrod smells of the ocean winds that form the waves and the carpet of moss that covers forest floors. He is Valinor mixed with Middle Earth, belonging to both and yet neither. There is a sadness to his grip as he brushes a stray hair from your face after you pull away. But as ever with his kin the sadness in his eyes swiftly turns over to mirth and he takes your hand before pulling you along with him to your next adventure.

let me know who else I should write these for!

[doodle-pops]

Finrod NSFW Alphabet

Request: Hello 👉👈 I really love your writing and since your requests are open if you're up for it could I ask for some NSFW headcanons for Finrod? I deeply enjoy this blonde blorbo 💜 thanks and be healthy - Anon

A/N: It’s always a pleasure to write one of these alphabets for the elves, especially for our golden boy. I hope you’re staying well also. Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The air is quiet, however, he’s still energetic after having sex and would cuddle you like an overly ecstatic puppy while touching some part of your body. It’s usually him pulling your sweaty body halfway on top of his while his hand wander and touching your back, butt and thighs. Finrod doesn’t mean for it to be an initiator for another round, he simply enjoys the proximity of the bodily contact you two are sharing in the moment and doesn’t want for it to end or be limited to simply lying beside each other. At the same time, when you manage to catch your breath and haven’t fallen asleep, likewise him, he would inquire about your next move. His voice is tender, yet, deep as he asks if you would like to have a bath run, something to eat and drink or lie in bed and talk? Once he receives his answer and is aware of your body status, he returns to being the cuddly bean that he is.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s your eyes. Those gorgeous eyes of yours he loves endlessly. He wants every act to involve you looking into his eyes because the eyes never lie; they are the windows into one’s soul and he wants to know how lost in the pleasure or in love are you. All those whimpers and pleads are usually followed by your eyes softening or becoming puddles as they roll or cross when the pleasure is just right. He loses his mind when he knows how close you are and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, which drives him wild. It allows him to calculate his next move with accuracy and precision to make you lose your mind.

On him, it’s between his mouth and fingers because he’s exceptionally skilled at bringing you great forms of pleasure using those two. He simply loves when you beg him to use his mouth, guiding him to where you want him most or how he whispers sinfully into your ear as he holds you down to finger you. His ability to drive you crazy with his body parts makes his ego run wild and he uses them to his advantage.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Not a messy person to begin with and prefers releasing inside you, on your thighs or in your mouth if you provide him with a blowjob. While his desire to impregnate doesn’t run explicitly as the rest of the members of his family, he enjoys the sensation of your walls milking every ounce of his cum out of his cock. It’s a feeling he experienced and became hard to ignore anytime you two are intimate. The rare occasion when he doesn’t desire to finish inside you is when you’re rewarding him with an earth-shattering blowjob, which he can’t refuse.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As regal and majestic Finrod appears, he enjoys the days when you take the weight of dominance off his shoulders and take the lead in bed. Yup, he’s a switch and revels in the dynamic. Not all the time he want to be giving the pleasure even he receives; he wants to see what tricks you have up your sleeves and how well you can take the lead and return satisfactory pleasure to your King. The sub side of him tends to appear when he’s down on energy or when he’s in that roleplaying headspace. However, he tends to lean on the dominant side more often than the sub.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He read lots of books and heard discussions from his lawless family members about the basic do’s and don’ts when it comes to intimacy. Finrod isn’t a skittish person when it comes to daring acts when it’s new to him. This is something he faces with passion and determination; it’s both your pleasure on the playing field and he isn’t wanting to take it as a joke. His first time with you would be full of confidence, leading you to believe that he’s done this before—he’s a natural. Anything outside of the basics would require experimenting and your input should you have intel, and he isn’t one to shy away from learning new intimate activities.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Finrod is a simple person and would go for missionary as his most used position because he wants to get lost all up in your eyes—you have gorgeous eyes he wants to see, okay. It’s such a raw and intimate position in his eyes that allows him to grant you the world of pleasure, plus, he can manoeuvre your legs anywhere he enjoys while choosing the pace he wanta to deive hismelf into you with. Furthermore, in this position, he gets to have access to your body to utilise his mouth, meaning his pretty lips are whispering sweet praises in your ear or attached to your lips, neck and chest.

Riding him is another favourite position because he gets to watch you riding him like a stallion. Those hands on his chest leaving behind moon crescents, or the up and down motion of your body causing your breasts to jiggle spurs him on. His own hands can’t help but reach out to ‘assist’ as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. It’s an easy-to-access position when you slip into his study or throne—should he be up for a quickie—or when he wants to lead you under the false impression that you’re in control of the session. So easy it is for him to buck into you, pinning your arms behind your back and take over. All you can do is hang on for the ride.

On mornings after your night together, when his energy might be too low for him or you to get on top, he’ll opt for spooning. In this position, it feels like he doesn’t have to rush, and you don’t have anywhere to go as the world unravels around you two as the morning awakens. Your leg resting in the crook of his elbow as he spreads you wide enough for his cock to sink smoothly into your heat, while he presses soft kisses to your shoulder as he takes his time carrying you off to your climax.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s capable of being both goofy and serious during sex, it all depends on the reason. If he’s jealous or the moment calls for a touch of sentiment, Finrod would hope that you would understand his reasoning and respect the atmosphere. Laughing during times like that would lead him to believe that you didn’t care. Anything outside of those moments, Finrod wouldn’t mind revelling in a burst of hearty laughter if he or you made a mistake, or the moment requires great joy to be expressed. You two probably knocked heads or slipped, leading to you laughing at each other’s eagerness.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sadly, elves don’t have body hair and Finrod is remarkably famed for the hair he had on his head compared to what he has below. So if you peeked, it is clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Finrod has his own way of making every sentimental moment romantic and full of love. I’m sure there were times when you two slept and it was simply pure fucking for the sake of pleasure and relief, but there are times when he wants to romance you. This is when you get introduced to body-worshipping Finrod who doesn’t stop until you know your worth and you are incapacitated, in a good way. His mouth is attached to every inch of your skin, whispering sweet words as he kisses and bites while having extreme body contact—like he’ll rest half his weight atop you to pin, but also want to let you feel him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I can see him masturbating if it’s done under mutual masturbating and voyeurism. Other than that, it’s hard to see him touching himself when he’s alone. Don’t get me wrong, he would touch himself to thoughts of you, but he would rather you watch as he comes undone to the thoughts of you that consume him, putting his cravings at the back and waiting for the right moment to gift you that sight. So if he was thinking of you, he’ll wait when you’re alone in your chambers and gift you the magnificent sight of witnessing how crazy you drive him.  

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of Finrod’s weaknesses stems from his titles being used to get him either on his knees or feral. He adores when you address him as ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ which already announces his position, however, he likes to take it up a notch and introduce roleplaying. He has admitted to enjoying the use of domineering titles being used on him, so he opts for roles that grant him access to hearing names like, ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. The cheeky devil finds himself caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure when you’re playing a servant or a merchant, desperate for your King to grant you favour.

Whether it is a kink or not, he has the strangest fascination watching you squirt. It brings out a childlike wonder in him, especially the first time it happened, and he inquired about it. That was all Finrod needed to get to work using every technique in the book, and like I said, he’s skilled with his mouth and fingers, so it will be achieved with ease. Just seeing you gush a waterfall which is derived from the satisfaction of the insurmountable pleasure he’s giving you makes him content. He doesn’t always make you squirt every session, since the time and place prevent that, but when he’s in the mood to, count your blessings because one is not enough.

Believe it or not, sensory play is also a favourite of Finrod. He’ll introduce blindfolds and elven ropes to leave you on the edge as he strips away your sense of sight and touch, even going as far as to remove hearing as he becomes a ghost on his feet. One minute you’ll be feeling the feathery touches of his fingers, and the next, you’re experiencing his cock pounding into you. When you’re incapacitated like this, his teasing tends to go up a notch, denying you any and all chances to feel his body against yours except his cock, fingers or mouth.

A massive body-worshipper which grants him access to quite a few other kinks up his sleeves like bondage. Nothing extravagant or elaborate, just a few simple bonds to your/his wrists and ankles, and he’s good with that. All that’s left to do is to relax and enjoy the oncoming pleasure either of you would grant the other. The only difference between you two is that Finrod is a massive tease and revels in teasing you as he worships your body; making you beg or confess how beautiful you find yourself if you desire his touch. However, he doesn’t appreciate the favour being returned excessively; tease him, but not too much. He’ll tug against the restraints, easily breaking out of them, before pinning you to the bed and asking, ‘What was so funny about teasing me so much?’

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mostly in his chambers, study, the courtroom and his home (in Valinor). You can get him to participate in a session in the forest if you two are camping, at a spring or a waterfall and the area if safe. It wouldn’t be wise if his guards were standing outside while he was taking you because it meant that he couldn’t hear your sweet moans and cries of his name. So, he would ensure that his guards weren’t around before he indulged.

Whispering ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ in his ear late at night or in private easily gets his blood pumping. He’s doing his best to restrain himself as he grips his quill with every effort not to snap it. The desire to pounce on you is strong yet hangs by a thin thread and grows more dangerous each second you wander about his space, taunting him. Finrod is also quite proud of his accomplishments and himself, so praising him also goes a long way in getting him to conform to your wishes to of having him in bed. Run your hands across his muscles, his clothes and through his hair giving small tugs, tell him how good of a King he is to his subjects and that you wish to pay respect to his kindness. He’ll easily allow you to have your way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that would involve infliction of pain, blood or violence. Extreme BDSM would be out of the question to Finrod as well as any use of weapons. Furthermore, he isn’t going to be pleased with sharing or having others watching.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like his older cousin, it’s no joke that he has an oral fixation as well and his mouth has to be on some part of your body. Finrod is a pleaser and he’ll eat you for both his pleasure and yours. Spending hours between your legs while it’s wrapped around his head suffocating him helps to relieve his stressful days as King. All he has to do is bat his pretty lashes at you and you’ve succumbed to his desires. There are times when he keeps his crown on and informs you to come sit on your throne while flashing you a lopsided grin because he knows what he’s doing. This is the one time where he doesn’t let up because he can’t get enough of your taste. Your legs could be shaking, you could attempt to push his head away and he’ll continue; this is after all for both you and him.

When receiving, he doesn’t shy away from accepting the act, however, he has a preference for you pleasuring him in other ways, so you’ll have to push him down. Or you can sneak into his study and suck him off from under the table while he struggles to keep a straight face and focus. During those moments, his hands would gently cradle your head as he leaves you to do your thing at your own pace…until you decide to go extra slow and tease him. That’s when he’ll grumble before guiding your head along his length or if he’s standing, thrusting into your mouth. It’s the one time when he’s rough while receiving oral.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Finrod leans towards slow and sensual whenever he’s intimate. This means that he’s a slow and passionate lover, enjoying deep, long, and slow strokes that are almost too much for you to handle before speeding up slightly, leaving you breathless or begging him to ease up—he doesn’t because he enjoys how flustered you become with his thrusts. This isn’t to say that he can’t get rough from time to time. For him, being rough only comes when you make him jealous, he’s heavily stressed or being a damn tease. This is when his thrusts are swift and rougher than usual, perhaps a slight bit of manhandling might happen in the moment. But to say the least, his rough side is enjoyable when he’s pinning you against some surface.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a thing you would depend on due to both your hectic schedule as leaders, and he would follow along. Most of the time, it’s him helping you out when you require relief since he isn’t as horny as you unless you purposefully rile him up by calling him one of his titles or wearing a tight or low-cut neckline. Otherwise, he genuinely goes along because he doesn’t have an issue when you desire him to please you. And here is where he gets to use his mouth and fingers most to get you off. It is on the rare occasion that he undresses and fully takes you, leaving you to take charge in the form of riding him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I believe that the biggest risk Finrod is willing to take is allowing you to crawl on your knees to him in your submissive role. The act to him is debauched because you shouldn’t ever be on your knees in that manner, but there’s something sexy about watching you crawl over to him dressed in your finest lingerie or naked, to greet him. It’s different compared to when you’re on your knees sucking him off. Either the predatory or innocent look in your eyes as you look up at him makes his brain shut down for a split second before he gets serious. It’s the only lowly act he considers taking a chance to participate in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Should the moment surround love and sentiment, Finrod is willing to have two to three rounds for the night, stretching each out to over thirty minutes. He’s worshipping you from head to toe every round because he is a passionate lover who leaves his touch quaking in your bones when he’s finished. However, if he’s jealous, everything is rougher and longer, as in five rounds until you understand that it’s he you should focus on and belong to. Of course, he gauges your responses to know if you can go for more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since toys, like what we have, don’t exist in Middle Earth, there aren’t many options to choose from if he were to indulge. To him, the idea of including toys would be great on your behalf since it would allow you to pleasure yourself when he couldn’t. The most he would request is to be present when you use them, so he can enjoy the performance while sipping on a glass of wine. Blindfold and elven ropes, something they have, would be included frequently in your activities since you mentioned that you enjoyed the heightened pleasure they added.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Yes, Finrod is a massive tease who hates to be on the receiving end when the tables are turned. He wants to drive you mad and have you moan, cry and beg for his touches; it fuels his ego to learn how much you crave him. Just listening to your whimpers as his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he tells you how much he desires you, knowing that you’re unable to do anything because you’re in public. The wicked, innocent, grin he throws at you before he saunters away, leaving you in a mess. But if you return the favour, he’ll take it for a while before growing impatient and pouncing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I have to say, his moans are heavenly. Quite angelic, especially when he tosses his head backwards to allow his golden curls to fall while releasing sweet notes, emphasising how good you make him feel. Either that, or he’s in your ear moaning like crazy, knowing how his voice makes you wetter and come undone faster. He isn’t excessively loud, but rather soft whimpers and moans like his goal is to seduce you with them, and he succeeds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Finrod has a mirror kink which is a category under his love for body-worshipping. It goes both ways because he wants you to witness how you come undone with every touch, stroke and whisper he delivers so diabolically while you also desire the same with him. If you have an issue with your confidence, you can bet yourself that mirror sex is going to be a frequent occurrence until you can get it into your head that you’re beautiful. He’ll force you to watch as he takes you, the only time he’ll have you from behind, and force you to repeat after him, ‘I am beautiful.’

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hmm, for someone considered one of the many beautiful elves to exist, he sure does have a pretty package. Well endowed, not too thick or thin, just the right length and girth to smoothly enter without any discomfort and carries a gentle weight, so he feels just right. He’s a shower that has a few veins running along the surface with a pink tip that stands out. Finrod is incredibly proud of his appendage as it matches his good looks, allowing him to have both a pretty and well-endowed cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is quite low. He doesn’t crave sexual intimacy as much as you probably would, hence why he would invest in toys of all sorts for you, once he can access them. In the early days of your relationship as a newlywed, he would experience the same need to be as close to you as much as possible and spend more time behind closed doors, wanting to understand your body and bask in the joys of being newlyweds. But as time rolled on and the newlywed phase disappeared, so did his urge. Being dutiful to his people and with the ongoing war, his focus lies elsewhere. Perhaps twice to thrice a month, you two indulge to keep the flame burning.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep due to his boundless energy. Leaving you after having a moment isn’t an act he enjoys since in his eyes, it makes him believe that he's using you, so he always stays. Most of the time, he’ll be the one awake while you’re curled up in his arms, fast asleep. Should you manage to have the energy to stay awake, some pillow talk would help to sedate him. Once he does drift into slumber, Finrod becomes a cuddler and a sleep talker. Softly murmuring your name as he snoozes and clings to you like a bear cub, he refuses to let you go the entire night.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @aconstructofamind @addaigio

[lovefairymina]

*while brushing Finrod's hair*: flower gleam and glow...let your power shine...make the clock reverse...

finrod: what're you doing-

me: SHHHHHHH

“My love, what are doing—” A finger to his lips to silence his questioning, Finrod finally submitted to silence and left you to do your thing. Despite the small pout, he carefully listened to your voice and words while you brushed his luscious hair. Very easily did a soothing wave of calmness wash over him, causing him to melt into your touch further.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

I would love to request a dominate NSFW one shot with Finrod and Thranduil with a fem human reader. Like maybe Finrod comes back like Glorfindel did and he settles in Mirkwood or something.

I hope this serves. And thank you for the idea of Finrod in Mirkwood. This has given me inspiration for fics involving Finrod and Mirkwood.

"Shared pleasures”

Pairing: Finrod x Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second Person POV)

Themes: Smut (Lemon)

Warnings: Kissing | Dom (Thranduil & Finrod) and Sub (reader) aspects | Explicit language | Breath play | Orgasm denial | Praise Kink | Breeding Kink | Size kink | Penetrative sex  | Rough Sex | Oral (fem. receiving | male receiving) | Cream pie

Wordcount: 1.3k words

Summary: You accept Thranduil and Finrod’s offer to spend the night with them.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥 Minors DNI | 18+

Rules and tag form here.  

It was a night of many dark and wanton acts. 

"Such a sweet songbird, is she not?" Thranduil glanced at his companion, a golden-haired elf living in Mirkwood for nearly half a year. 

"She most certainly is." Finrod, the elf spoken of in stories and legends, agreed. "Perhaps we should get her to sing a little more."

The Elvenking's lips possessed yours before you could even speak. It was a slow, languorous kiss, one that was filled with sweet promises. A hand gripped your chin, pulling you the other way. The kiss that followed was more teeth and tongue. The grip on your chin tightened. It was Finrod. You opened your eyes and found a pair of burning blue orbs staring right back at you, as if wanting to devour you. 

Finrod had been tainted by the beast he slew with his bare hands and teeth at Tol-in-Gaurhoth. Its blood left a mark he had to bear during his return to Middle-earth. Only when he returned to Valinor for all time would this taint be removed. He pulled away, the light in his eyes dimming a little. He did not want to go too far and hurt you. 

"Go on, little bird," he urged, "attend the king."

You turned to the king, anticipation coursing through your veins. Thranduil's kiss was soft and gentle, one that invited submission. Sinful lips that tasted of honey and wine opened over yours. You sighed and slipped your arms around his shoulders, whimpering when he palmed the soft swell of your breasts. He teased, gently at first, before pressing harder and harder. 

Soft, ragged gasps made him groan. He dipped his head, eager to taste. The sensation of his tongue along the expanse of your skin made you cry wantonly and arch into him. Finrod was intoxicated by the sound.  

"You are a little songbird," He cooed, watching and listening, stroking himself, eager for his turn. When Thranduil moved lower, leaving a damp trail all over your body, he took his chance and kissed you again.

His was a kiss that demanded submission instead of merely asking for it. It was violent and bruising and left you wanting for air. Finrod wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing gently every few moments. The pleasure of it all—him controlling your every breath and Thranduil’s lips settling over your clit was too much. You moaned again, deeply, and repeatedly. Thranduil pushed his tongue deep inside, fucking you with it one moment, then running it flat against your slit another moment. You could barely think. Your nails dug into the sheets, threatening to rip into them when jolts of pleasure licked up your spine. You were close, so very close. You could hear Thranduil’s grunts now. He rested his arm over your belly to stop you from squirming. He feasted on the warmth of your flesh and the sweetness that spilled onto his lips and tongue. It was slow and sensual, just as you would expect it to be. Your hands released their deathlike grip on the sheets and glided over silver-gold hair. Thranduil moaned when he felt the tips of your fingers grazing his scalp.

"I could spend all day like between your legs," he whispered, his eyes flicking up to yours. "Truly, little bird. I cannot get enough of how wonderful you taste."

He eagerly dipped again, bringing you closer and closer with each flick of his tongue. But Thranduil was in no rush. As soon as you began to tremble, your babbles peppering the air, he pulled away with parting kisses to the insides of your thighs.

The sensation of being brought so close and then denied was overwhelming. You were given no moment to gather yourself. Finrod moved over you, taking over where Thranduil left off.

"Spread those legs," he ordered. "And keep your eyes on me."

You did as he commanded. His eyes burned bright when your arms held onto his back and your legs rested over his hips.

 There would be no tenderness with him, not when the mark of the beast reared its head and overtook him. Finrod’s lips captured yours in a heated frenzy. He growled softly when your nails dug into his flesh. It undid him, and he dove into your core without warning, filling you up completely.

"You were made for me," he hissed while thrusting. "You were made for us. Say it, little bird." 

You willingly echoed his words. "I am made for you… the both of you."

Finrod chuckled wickedly. Thranduil pulled you in for a kiss. His lips and tongue still tasted of you. Finrod pulled out of you and flipped you onto your stomach, making it all the easier. He lifted your hips and took you from behind, moaning with delight when your cunt clenched around his cock. You propped yourself on your elbows, whimpering every time he pulled his hips back and pushed in, when he grabbed onto your hand and gently pulled on it so he could go deeper. He was big. So big. Pain mingled with pleasure every time he sheathed his cock in your cunt.

"There my lord," you mewled when he found that place that gave you unimaginable pleasure. "Right there my lord... oh my stars!" 

Thranduil pulled you up until you were on your hands and knees. He wanted to do more than just watch. 

"Open that pretty little mouth; I want to fuck it." He caressed your cheek with one hand, holding it firmly while he guided his cock into your open mouth. When he moaned, "You are such a pleasure to use," shivers went down your spine.

This was what you wanted—all of what you wanted. Thranduil and Finrod made it plain over supper that they intended to ruin you this night; all you had to do was say the word, and they would see to the rest. You had caught their eye while serving them, and they wished to know more of you. Whatever you wanted them to do, they would do. It thrilled you. Having two high elven lords ask you, a mortal no less, to share pleasures with them was something you had never even dreamed of. You agreed to their terms. When you did not care for something, all you had to do was say it, and they stopped without complaint. And now…

Now you did not want either of them to stop.

Finrod’s nails dug into your skin. He wanted to fill you with his seed. It was all he could think of the entire time. He went deeper and harder and faster, growing drunk on skin slapping against skin. His muscles coiled. Sweet tension grew in his belly as need whipped at him like new coils. One hard thrust and that sweet tension snapped. Finrod grunted when his orgasm ripped through him. He continued fucking you until your own release overcame you, groaning every time he felt your cunt milk his cock.

Thranduil was just as relentless. He relished the feel of your lips around his cock and your tongue running along his shaft. He felt the tension building within him. He was close. He wanted nothing more than to spill his seed in your mouth. He pulled on your hair and threw his head back, mouth open in a half-moan, half-whimper. Warmth washed over your tongue when he came.

"Swallow," he ordered, his voice thick and hoarse. "Good, little bird."

You felt strangely empty when they pulled out of you and laid you in bed. Your body was still humming when Finrod rested against you, his nose buried in your hair. You could only sigh dreamily when he mumbled sweet praises in your ear. He told how proud he was of you, praised you for listening and doing all that was asked of you. Thranduil left the bed and brought you water, whispering soothing words while you drank. He joined the two of you not long after.

They asked you to join them again the next night, the night after that, and the night after that. You had only one answer. Yes. 

[sakasakiii]

imladris lads :D it started off as a few doodles of gildor bc of a great prompt i received from an anon a few weeks ago, and then spiralled into something else entirely bc i havent really taken the time to explore much of anything imladris-related? i really like the lindir-is-maglor concept so heres my take on how it couldve happened haha

as always, credit to Cartoon Network for the sparkly pink BG

thanks so much for the ask!! here's my take on gildor :DD i really like the way anon asked the question and it was what inspired me to draw finrod in the mix too strangely enough?? the vibes are similar 🤭

[corsairspade]

you are a god's best friend. the world is young still, and you are yet younger. he rides with you and hunts with you, and teaches you how to speak to birds and beasts. you are a god's student. you ride in his train and care for a hound that he gifted to you. gods have taught others before. gods have been kindly to others before. your god is your best friend. he gifts you something of his self, a hound of his own hunt.

you are your father's son. your grandfather is dead. no one has ever called you wise, and you are, above all else, your father's son. he swears a terrible oath. you swear a terrible oath. you don't know if you really mean it, but your mother named you well- you are hasty to rise, hasty to run into things. the hunt teaches you patience but you cannot outrun yourself. you are your father's son.

you are a god's best friend and you have sworn a terrible oath, but it is an oath that you hope that your friend can understand. to hunt the murderer of your grandfather, is something that the god of the hunt can understand.

you are your father's son. the blood of elves on your hands does not feel different than the blood of a deer, except in the tight feeling of your throat. except in the thunderous beating of your heart. you tell your brother, who is trying not to throw up, that you need to think of them like deer. he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you are forever doomed.

you are a god's best friend. he does not say goodbye, but your dog comes with you. surely you can fix this, then, surely you are still a god's friend.

you are your father's son. he dies. he dies but before he does, he tells you to burn the boats. you do. you are your father's son. your father dies and, he tells you to swear that oath once more. it is a terrible oath. you have sworn it once. you swore to your best friend once. surely it will not tip the scales to swear once more, if in your mind, you dedicate this hunt to him.

you were a god's best friend, and it is not enough. you are your father's son, and you speak your father's oath. it proceeds to eat you alive.

[wanderer-clarisse]

cousin bonding time (I like to imagine that Maedhros is the one who tied baby Finrod's hair!)

sorry for being suddenly inactive here lately, Things Happened and I haven't really had the time to sit down and draw until this week ;-; hope this little sketch can make up for it!

[sesamenom]

co-high kings galadriel & celeborn

since elrond doesn't want the kingship, galadriel & celeborn are the eldest in middle-earth of the lines of Olwe and Elmo respectively. olwe is older but hes the king of the teleri not specifically doriath sindar so there might be some dispute between which line the sindarin high kingship jumps to, but they very conveniently happen to already be married and so can skip all that and just be twice the headache for sauron

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

'For what end? To overthrow the Shadow, or if that may not be, to keep it from spreading once more over all Middle-earth—to defend the Children of Eru, Andreth, all the Children and not the proud Eldar only!'

'I had heard,' said Andreth, 'that it was to regain your treasure that your Enemy had stolen; but maybe the House of Finarfin is not at one with the Sons of Fëanor.'

andreth shading the feanorians and rightly pointing out that they do not have good intentions toward her and her people, we love to see it <3

[animatorweirdo]

A Dream or Reality?

Finrod had unknowingly changed his fate when he met a hunter from another world.

(This is a fic I kinda abandoned in my WIPs and have no motivation or what so ever to edit or do proper work on it, so there are certain mistakes. A crossover between Silmarillion and Bloodborne. I didn't want to simply put it in the trash, so I hope you like it. Another note: I haven't played Bloodborne, so I'm sorry if some of the things are wrong. )

Warnings: violence, blood, reader scaring most of the elves, using a gun, a lot of fighting, mentions of getting eaten by a wolf, and reader coming to rescue Finrod.

------------------------------------

Finrod’s first encounter with you was strange and sudden. 

He was on patrol with his men, seeking something else to do besides his royal duties and ensuring no orcs were hiding in his lands, trying to find out the location of his kingdom. 

The patrol was going more easily than he expected, so he allowed himself and his men to take a break at a river, enjoying the sounds of the flowing river and letting the horses drink after hours of riding. The sun was at its highest, so Finrod was certain no orc or other creature of darkness would ambush them at such a peaceful hour. 

That was it till he heard shooting in the distance. 

The horses were startled by the sudden sounds of what seemed to sound like explosions. Finrod had never heard such sounds before, so he didn’t know what to call them. However, the sounds were then accompanied by the howls of wargs– sounds which he knew very well and gave him a feeling something serious was happening. 

Finrod rallied his men and rode to investigate, following the sounds, which became louder as he got closer. He then arrived at a scene of a lone edain fending off a pack of wargs. 

You were shooting down the wargs one by one with a strange projectile-like weapon that created an explosion from the top of its pipe and sent something small yet fast flying at the wargs, killing them instantly. 

In your other hand, you held a strange saw-like weapon that seemed to be folded in a way, using it to cut down the wargs that came too close for your liking. It suddenly changed form as you plunged it into the warg’s chest and threw the beast over your shoulder, letting it die on the ground as your weapon changed back.

Finrod was surprised, to say at least. Your weapons were strange yet efficient contraptions. 

With his elven sight, he noticed your movements and reactions getting slower and clumsier. You also left a trail of blood in your steps, so it was clear you were injured and would soon get mauled by the pack if he didn’t do something. You were clearly getting too exhausted to handle the wargs by yourself, so he needed to step in and save you before it was too late. 

He ordered his men to shoot down the rest of the wargs as he came to you, dropping down from his horse when you fell to the ground, obviously exhausted and wounded. 

However, before he could touch you or even ask to see your injuries – you pushed your weapon at him, breathing heavily and with fear in your eyes. Finrod stayed still, trying not to startle you even though he was unnerved by the scent of something burning within the pipe of your weapon. He saw what it did to the wargs, so he was not keen on finding out what it could do to him, especially from such close range. 

His men were ready to shoot you, but he told them to stand back.

Your hold on the weapon was shaking, and the frightened look in your eyes told him you had never seen his kind before and the rush of fighting to stay alive was still affecting you. 

Finrod remained calm and slowly but gently assured you he was a friend and wanted to help. 

You cautiously laid your weapon down, confused by his fair appearance and calming voice but convinced he was not a monster or an illusion to trick your mind. He offered to check on your wounds, but before you could say anything – the blood loss you had suffered during the fight made you lose consciousness. 

Concerned, he quickly took you to his kingdom and left you in the care of the healers, who tried their best to stabilize your condition even though the odds seemed to be against you. He feared you would die despite his efforts, but luckily, you survived and fell into a deep sleep. 

He left you to rest in peace, letting the healers watch over you and wait for you to awaken from your sleep. However, he was confused when they told him about the unusual healing speed of your wounds. They had given you medicine, but your injuries seemed to have recovered in a matter of a day without leaving scars. It was like you were never in a fight in the first place. 

It was way too quick for a human, and not only that — you also seemed to be bothered by an illness of sorts. 

Finrod was concerned by the news, but he knew he could not do much about your condition. He will only find out when you wake up and tell him who you are and what this sickness was. 

It took a few days for you to recover, and when you finally woke up, you were startled to see yourself in a new place without your weapons and dark garments they took to be fixed and washed from the blood. It was a good thing Finrod was visiting when you woke up because you nearly wounded some of the healers in your panic. 

It was chaotic, but Finrod managed to calm you down before you accidentally injured his people. 

He tried to talk to you when you calmed down and went back to rest on the bed. You seemed much more docile around him but did not utter a word. Strangely, you seemed to be trying to figure out if you were in a dream of sorts or trying to find something hiding in the corners. At least taken by your constant cautious and suspicious look in your eyes. 

It was such a strange behavior. Finrod could definitely tell you were not from Beleriand since everything seemed so new and strange for you, minus your weapons and clothes, which were strangely fashioned. 

But when you spoke for the first time, he was both delighted and even more perplexed. 

“Is this a dream?” you asked him. 

Finrod was not certain how to answer since you looked at him seriously, yearning for the answer to your question. It gave him thoughts if you had something to do with dreams before that had greatly affected your mind. 

He assured you were not in a dream, and everything was real. You didn’t seem very convinced but took the answer and didn’t speak much. 

When he asked where you were from; you told him you were from a city called Yharnam which he was not familiar with like you weren’t familiar with Nargothrond or Middle Earth. 

It was one of the last times you spoke so much. Now you mostly answered with hums and nods. 

Finrod took you for a quiet person, so he didn’t push you to talk when he started visiting you, bringing some sweets and filling you in about his people and the kingdom and the world outside. 

You listened attentively and rarely answered his questions with words. 

You told him you were a hunter and your home had been plagued with a terrible disease that turned people into monsters. Your task was to hunt these monsters while trying to find a cure for the illness within you.  

Finrod felt sympathetic for you, especially when there was no known cure yet for your illness. 

The last thing you remember was an odd feeling taking over you during a fight then you woke up somewhere unknown, ambushed by the pack of wargs. 

Since it would take time for you to find a way back to your home. Finrod allowed you to stay and even offered the help of his healers to find a cure for your illness. 

You gratefully accepted the offer even though you had doubts even his healers could find the cure and thus – your stay in Nargothrond began. 

Finrod’s people felt unease by your presence when you got better and started walking around. You were quiet and dressed strangely. They had also heard about the weapons you possessed, so no one dared to approach you. 

You followed Finrod around like a shadow, listening to him and rarely speaking. It intimidated the elves of Nargothrond even though their king did not seem to mind, already used to your silence. 

Celegorm, however, decided to test your patience, throwing slight insults and trying to gain any reaction from you. It was pretty clear to you, so you paid him no mind and continued with your own business, talking with Finrod and working with the healers on the possible cure for you. 

It of course made him try harder, but you have faced darker things, so his jabbing was nothing thus there was nothing to gain by ingulding his attention-seeking behaviour, so it was rather easy. 

When Finrod couldn’t contain his curiosity anymore, he asked you about your weapons, especially about the projectile weapon that made explosions. 

You were confused till you realized he was talking about your pistol, so you then gave a brief explanation and even demonstrated how to use it on the training grounds, blowing the targets with your bullets and startling the bystanders with its explosive sounds. 

You even demonstrated your saw-cleaver in both of its forms. 

Finrod was fascinated though he did not like the sounds your pistol made in its use. 

You were interesting company even though you didn’t talk much. You spent most of your time with him or enjoying the calmness of nature since you were rather reluctant to interact with anyone else. Finrod had hoped you would spend some time with other people, making friends and acquaintances since it seemed you might stay in Nargothrond for longer. Your reasoning was you shouldn't make attachments that might not last or because you might never see them again. It was logical in a way, but still. To his delight, you did start interacting with his loyal friend Edrahil, who was often seen scolding you for scaring other elves with your looming presence even as a joke. He had a feeling you liked it in a way since Edrahil did not seem to bear any fear toward you. 

The day finally arrived when Barahir’s son, Beren,  came to seek his aid in a quest. Finrod knew the day would eventually come, but to reclaim a silmaril from Morgoth’s crown, he hoped it would have been something else, especially when the two sons of Feanor spoke against him and convinced his own people against partaking in the quest, save for Edrahil and a handful of people, who were willing to join. 

You were willing to join to repay for his kindness, but Finrod convinced you to stay behind. You have been healed from your injuries, but since you were ill. It would be best for you to stay behind with his people, so they could continue researching the cure for you. 

You did not like the sound of him going on his own with only a handful of people to steal from Morgoth. But you did not like trying to talk back to him. He was too convincing, so you stayed behind. 

But as Finrod suspected, he, Beren, and his company barely made past Sirion and got captured by Sauron. He tried to fight back the wicked lieutenant of Morgoth, but his power proved to be too great and they were trapped in a dungeon with a ravenous wolf who began eating his companions one by one. 

Hope seemed lost, but he couldn't bring himself to give up easily and let Beren die, so he was prepared to die. 

But in the darkness, he heard a sound that sparked hope within his heart, the gunshot of your pistol. 

You had come. 

You were shooting Sauron's werewolves left and right as they charged at you. You pulled out your saw-spear and plunged it into one of the beasts, letting its blood dress the bridge that was now collecting bodies of werewolves. 

You pulled out your weapon, letting it click back into its primary form and the werewolf fell dead on your feet. The hound, Huan, stood beside you as it had fought alongside you. You gazed at the tower before you. 

You have faced several foes, so you did not fear. However, this time you hoped you would get to Finrod just in time before fate's claws would take him. Determined, you clogged your gun and prepared for a fierce fight to save your friend. 

[redbean-nom]

star wars by silm logic

for the silm-sw dual citizens:

I was wondering what would happen if star wars (particularly tbb bc that's the currently-releasing bit of star wars) adhered to silm logic:

Hunter is the local leader of a hidden city (Pabu)

Omega is the heir

Rex is the overall leader of a warring people (clone rebellion)

Hemlock is the local leader of a branch of the Forces of Evil

Palpatine is the overall Enemy

so therefore

Rex and Echo gather an army of escaped clones. They rescue Cody or Wolffe from the Empire. Song and fire are greatly involved.

Themes of rising hope are invoked as they make a stand against the Empire. The clone rebellion grows further.

They are initially victorious and manage to rescue the clone prisoners from Tantiss with few casualties. Hemlock is ousted and flees to the heart of the Empire (but his operation will return in time)

Echo goes to check on the Batch on Pabu and ask them to ally with him and Rex in the upcoming battle.

They march on Coruscant. Things suddenly go disastrously wrong. Cody is killed in battle. Rex faces Palpatine in single combat.

Rex dies tragically.

Eagles.

Echo tells Hunter about the battle. They are delayed on their way and attempt to ride to the rescue. The Batch arrives just after the deaths. Echo is sad.

Pabu is betrayed while the Batch is on Coruscant.

Pabu is invaded by the Empire. Hemlock subjugates the people into his weird clone experimentation program.

Dragons.

The Batch returns to destroyed/invaded Pabu and is unable to intervene.

While attempting to protect their city most of the Batch dies.

Echo is very sad.

Hunter is captured and killed in front of Omega.

Omega escapes and swears an Oath mourns the Batch.

Echo is broken by grief for the ghosts of his past and vanishes.

Omega later becomes a Rebellion leader, carrying the memories of the failed clone rebellion and the haven of Pabu with her.

Echo fades/dies on some random planet as the forgotten remnant of the GAR/Clone rebellion.

[lamemaster]

Elves react to men's sleeping habits

AN: Clearing out ages-old drafts.

Summary: Interviews return~

PSA: No elf or man was harmed during these interviews.

Interviewer: So slangry...(reads from the notes) sleepy and angry. Care to elaborate?

Aegnor: (Still recovering from the last interview) Yep, first she would not go to sleep and then fervently insist that her annoyance at my mere breathing is justified (riled up hand gestures 🤌)

Andreth: (criminal offense side eye) No that is incorrect 🧐☝🏻

Interviewer: I do not think you get a sa-

Andreth: I can decide when I require sleep. Thank you very much (glares at the camera).

Aegnor: Come on darling the land of dreams awaits you (coaxing riled-up Edain)

Finrod: We've had conversations. You see men sleep so wonderfully. Beor simply responds to everything. We've planned parties, dinners, vacations...

Interviewer, side-eyeing Beor:

Finrod: And Beor remembers everything perfectly alright. Isn't it sweet?

Beor sweating buckets while motioning the interviewer to stop.

Interviewer: That is...unu-

Beor, steering Finrod away from the studio: That is absolutely nothing unusual, my love. Men sleep with their eyes closed so they can listen better. See that is why I absolutely remember everything we plan.

Beor in fact did not recollect anything. Further reports reveal that the man in question is an avid fan of avoiding planning anything. The said elf and man had words after the interview.

Idril: And then he just jerked awake. Earendil screeched loud enough to wake the entire city.

Tuor: It was just once! (exasperated)

Interviewer: What did you dream? (sipping tea)

Tuor: I fell...(looks away). I was falling...

Interviewer, picking up their notes: Falling from where?

Tuor: It was a normal dream until I was falling off Turgon's shoulders...But hey it is a great height! He's got nice shoulders tho (smiles awkwardly).

Turgon's shoulder rides continue to be Earendil exclusive. Much to entire Gondolin's dismay.

Thranduil: It is beautiful.

Bard: Stop it! (Blushing madly). My snoring is not beautiful.

Interviewer, over the pda: 👁️👄👁️

Thranduil: It just proves how hard you work beloved (pinching Bard's cheeks). It's like purring but elevated.

Audience facepalms

Gushing continued for 5 hours after the studio closed.

Interviewer: Turin, are you a big spoon or a little spoon?

Turin: (gritting his teeth) I'm a knife.

Interviewer:

Turin: (glares back)

Beleg, smiling blindingly: He's a little spoon 🤭

[doodle-pops]

Shadows of Honour

Finrod x reader

A/N: I have an unhealthy obsession with angst and since Christmas is close by, I'd love to share it with you all :)

Warnings: female reader, pregnancy, abandonment, arguments, heavy angst, angst no comfort

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: “If… If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

Rivers of tears cascaded down your burning cheeks as you stood face-to-face with the man you loved. His awareness and compassion for your distress was etched onto his face, unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. Those once–beloved blue–green eyes failed to hold the honesty and sincerity they once did; instead, they remained fixed on the floor, avoiding contact with you or the round, protruding bump that bore testament to your shared love. He heaved a heavy sigh, fully aware that explaining his reasons wouldn’t make sense to you, even as he allowed you to vent your pain and his pride. Were his actions truly so cruel and heartless as to bring his wife to tears and endless pleas?

“You can’t leave me; you can’t leave us!” your voice trembled with desperation, your hand instinctively cradling your belly, emphasising the life within. “You can’t abandon your family and people for the sake of a mortal you don’t even know, Finrod!”

Lifting his head to meet your tear–stained cheeks, he reached out to cradle your face, but his gesture was met with swift rejection. Your swatting hands pushed his away, and you took a step back, staring at him in disbelief. Controlling your breathing became a struggle; in your current state, maintaining composure was no easy feat. It was even more challenging when your husband, the one who was supposed to protect and cherish you, seemed to have lost all reason and logic. What happened to his sense and sensibility?

Covering your mouth in a futile attempt to stifle your sobs, you fought to speak with a broken voice, “Don’t...don’t try to smooth things over when you know I’m right. Don’t silence me! I have every right to be unhappy with your choice. You’re choosing a mortal over me, your daughter, and our unborn child! How else am I supposed to react?”

“You need to calm down, Y/N; it’s not good for the baby—”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me when your actions say otherwise,” you hissed with discontent, refusing to let him dictate what was right or wrong, especially when he couldn’t seem to decide for himself.

Frowning, his eyes darted hesitantly to the door, sensing a third presence nearby before returning to your panting figure. Your disapproval of his touch stung, but he understood that your nerves needed calming and your mind needed settling. He observed as you instinctively rubbed your belly, the storm of emotions causing your little one to shift uncomfortably. Dragging out this argument seemed futile when he knew that his final decision was unchangeable. It was only a matter of time until you comprehended the purpose behind his choice. Without further ado, he spun on his heels, making his way over to the closet, gathering clothes and hunting gear. Prolonging the debate wouldn’t lead to a resolution; you couldn’t convince him to stay, and he was steadfast in his commitment to aid the mortal.

“So you’re not going to say anything?! You’re not going to fight with me, fight for me, fight for us?! You’re just going to let yourself be swayed by some mortal who wants to fall in love with an elf and give her the Silmaril? The same jewel your cousins would kill for?” Your voice regained its vigour, tinged with frustration, as you approached the closet where he continued to nonchalantly pack his belongings. Your accusations stung like barbs, and yet he felt the pain even more acutely with every word you hurled his way. He knew the consequences; it was his very understanding of them that fuelled his turmoil.

Biting his lip to suppress his trembling emotions, he kept his eyes averted, focusing on the task before him. He didn’t want you to see his own turmoil, as it would only make you feel worse. Your stress levels were high enough, and he racked his brain for a way to soothe you without further escalation. “Please, don’t worry, ĕrĕmelda. I will return to you, safe and sound,” he whispered softly. “This is the will of Eru, and I must honour it.”

Your voice cut through the air, laden with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “Eru? Did he also instruct you to swear an oath, marry me, and start a family, only to abandon us for some mortal who wants to show the world his bravery by pursuing a maiden out of his league? I thought you believed that Eru didn’t intend for elves and mortals to be together. Why are you acting in direct opposition to that belief? And, for that matter, why did you keep the oath and the foresight of your own death hidden from me?”

As the trousers slipped from his grasp, he turned to face your puffy eyes and cheeks. The remnants of his irritation dissipated in the face of your broken state. His mouth opened to reply, but his words faded away as he studied your misery. He was causing more harm than good, and he couldn’t quite understand why.

With deliberate steps, he approached you, his hands tentatively reaching out to touch your arms. He noticed your lack of resistance and gently drew you into a hug. Holding you close for the first time since that morning, he breathed in your scent, savouring the fragrance of gardenias and lilacs that clung to your skin. He felt your baby move within you, and it was a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a life he seemed intent on leaving behind. Finrod knew deep down that this might be the last time he held you like this, yet he hadn’t anticipated that the parting would be so fraught with tears and agony. Leaving for a self–imposed mission in the name of honour and duty felt hollow when he longed to stay with you and your children, the family he had fought so hard to build.

In his heart, he knew he was doing more harm than good.

His children.

His heart ached at the thought of his beloved children—his eldest daughter, Lairelótë, and his unborn child. The child he cherished and sang lullabies to every night would grow up without their father’s presence, knowing of him only through stories and tales as he would be revered among his people. And his daughter, what would she think of him for leaving, for prioritising a mortal’s quest over his own family? The weight of these realisations bore down on him, causing turmoil in his mind. What was he truly doing? He had vowed to give his life for his family, yet here he was, seemingly throwing it away.

“If…” he began, his words trailing off as he listened to the heart–wrenching cries of his wife in his arms. Your sobs cut through him like a blade, each one striking his heart with painful force. “If…If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

You found yourself speechless, unsure of how to respond. His question stunned you, anger and bewilderment coursing through your veins. It felt as if he had dropped a ton of bricks on you with his words. “Finrod, I...” you faltered, struggling to put your thoughts into coherent words.

As he continued to rub your back, your hiccups grew stronger, a peculiar trait of yours that had often turned gloomy moods into moments of laughter. However, not even that unique trait could lighten the heaviness of the situation today. Glancing towards the door, his senses alert, he knew precisely who the third presence was. He fervently hoped that she didn’t have to witness the full extent of this devastating argument, which could only amplify the pain of his departure.

“F–Finrod,” you hiccupped, your voice shaking, “do you understand the significance of all of this?”

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand continuing its soothing motion on your back, gradually calming the movement in your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you rephrased your question, “This mortal knows that his quest will lead to death. By asking you to fulfil this oath, he’s essentially asking you to die for him, so that he can have his happily ever after while I suffer. He knows that he wouldn’t survive without help. Why accept the quest in the first place? Why risk a precious life? Doesn’t he consider you important?”

Finrod sighed, his tone carrying a mix of patience and empathy. “His heart is young and easily swayed by emotions, arimeldanya. Love often drives us to do whatever it takes to be with the one we cherish.”

“But why does he have to take you away from me?” you pleaded; your voice tinged with desperation. “Tell him to ask someone else, to be less selfish. I need you; we need you.”

A small chuckle escaped Finrod at the pout that formed on your tear–streaked face. It was a brief moment of levity amidst the turmoil, a fleeting reminder of the bond you shared. Sliding his hand up your back, his fingers gently cradled your cheeks, tilting your head to meet his gaze. You saw the tears welling in his eyes, an ethereal light that shimmered with sorrow. To you, he was an angelic presence, a source of joy and happiness.

Testing the waters, he gauged your reaction before leaning in, capturing your lips in a tender, bittersweet kiss. The initial surprise was replaced by a shared intimacy, a final connection before his departure and the sorrow that lay ahead. His lips met yours with a mixture of longing and pain, a poignant reminder of the love you both shared. It was a memory to hold onto, a testament to the strength of your bond even in the face of adversity.

“I swore an oath to his House to aid in times of need, he had summoned me to fulfil it, I cannot deny its call. I can only hope that this quest won’t tear me away from you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “And I promise, I won’t give up without a fight if there’s a chance for my wish to be granted.”

“This still isn’t fair Finrod,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve made a decision without me and I can’t change that. You’re so selfish...”

Eyes downturn, he licked his lips and cast one more glance at the door, sensing the presence fading. He knew his words were false hope when he had foreseen a certain destiny about him, but it was necessary to still give it. “There’s still a way to rewrite the future; it is not set in stone. My death does not have to be this way. Have faith in me, I will return to you and our dear little ones.”

Masterlist

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[lovefairymina]

Finrod I like it when you put your mouth all over me 😏

“I will never understand your obsession with my mouth along with me biting you,” Finrod chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered. “But allow me to continue pleasing you,” before pressing a gentle kiss followed by a soft nibble to your neck.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! Can I please request Finrod x reader (loved your mark of the werewolf headcanons) for the breeding kink, where even though he does not transform, he's in a sort of rut/heat because of the mark and the reader (AFAB) helps him through it/mates with him?

Aha. You have great taste, I see.

"Strange needs"

Pairing: Re-embodied Finrod x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV) | Location: Grey Havens

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Heat/Rutting | Kissing | Explicit Language | Breeding kink | Marking/Hickies | Penetrative sex | Rough sex | Cream pie

Summary: Experiencing the effects of the mark left on him for the first time, Finrod has to turn to someone else for relief.

Word count: 1.3k+ words

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥 | Minirs DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: I wrote from the point of Finrod experiencing this for the first time.

The world had changed since he walked it last.

Finrod, too, had changed, and in ways he did not consider possible. A mark was upon him. It was the burden he had to bear upon his return to Middle-Earth. He could feel it in the strange beat of his heart. It was there whenever he examined himself in a silvered looking glass, and his eyes blazed like twin flames. They blazed when he was wroth, and they blazed when passions were inflamed. The former he fought to control, and succeeded. The latter on the hand…

The latter could not be suppressed. And there were certain times—not always, but certain times—when the call to lose himself in the flesh of another was unbearable. Finrod did not know what it meant. All he knew was that it frightened and shamed him. He could not approach the healers; none had dealt with an elf that had borne the mark of a werewolf. He could not approach Círdan either. His host departed on an urgent matter, bidding him to stay behind. That was nigh on a year ago, just after Finrod arrived and became better acquainted with Círdan and all those who dwelled with him. Until he returned, Finrod could do nothing but bear it all in silence, sometimes disappearing into the woods surrounding the Grey Havens. To see the world anew, he would say, making his excuses. The others would accept it and go about their day. He would walk and walk and walk until he was far away from prying eyes. Desperate for some relief, he would lean against a tree, his hand moving to rest between his thighs. The peace that followed was welcomed but brief. The call always returned and was always fiercer than before. This was how it was, and how it continued, until one of the Edain, a maiden that served in the kitchens, came upon him while looking for herbs. Finrod, thoroughly ashamed after being found out, ashamed of his weakness, confessed and laid his secrets bare. You were willing enough to hear him out. You even agreed to help him.

He was reluctant and unsure. Both of you were not wed, had made no promises to each other. Still, you insisted. It would be better to have this hunger satisfied now, you counseled, and with a bedmate who was willing and agreeable. Why wait until the strange needs that plagued him overwhelm him completely?

Finrod retreated to his chambers. He kept away from you and the others while he thought and thought. He pondered what you said, and for many days on end. He considered refusing. It was dishonorable, was what it was. He felt like he was taking advantage. Then he remembered the vicious tug, the need that would lash at him like a whip without warning. Would it truly be wise to ignore it, allow it to consume him to the point of madness? Where it may result in him doing something that could cause irreparable harm because he could no longer control himself? Finrod knew he could not let that happen. He found some wisdom in what you said. Finally, he sought you out and came to your chambers while the others were in the feasting hall, singing. The sounds that carried all over Círdan’s great home were wondrous to the ear, and hopefully, Finrod thought, loud enough to drown out all else.

Permission was sought. Permission was willingly given. His entire body was on fire, and filled with the unmistakable desire to just take and take and take, until there was nothing left for him to devour. He bent down to kiss you, his mouth tasting of wild berries and rich red wine, his touch impatient and greedy. He yearned to be gentle, to take things as slowly as he could possibly manage, but when his lips pressed against yours, when a strangled whimper greeted him, the need to sate the hunger that burned within rose to claim him, making him forget himself. Your dress lay in a ruined heap. His own raiment was right beside it. He threw his arms around you, lifted you, and carried you to bed.

All thoughts of proper behavior abandoned him. Finrod kissed you, hot, hungry, and demanding. The words that parted his lips were shocking.

“From this night forth, you are mine.”

“Take it all inside you. I insist.”

“See how well you take my cock. It is as if you had been made for me.”

He would brush his nose against your throat, your arms, as if he were drinking in your scent. He sucked down on tingling flesh, his teeth leaving a mark all of their own. Your skin was soon covered in bruises. It did not matter. You would simply cover them with longer sleeves, a high-necked collar, and with the seasons having changed and the days growing exceedingly colder, no one would have reason to question you.

Finrod rolled his hips, moaning softly whenever he sheathed himself in the wet heat of your cunt. The warmth of your body, its softness, the lushness that engulfed him, and the limbs that entwined around him were all that he had craved for and more. His lips plundered without end. His hand streaked down and your breast filled his palm, its hardened peak filling his mouth. Your moan was low and animal-like, as intoxicating to him as fine wine. You drew him closer, arching your back, crying out his name, crying out in ecstasy. The first orgasm struck you quickly, like a bolt of lightning. It was wholly unexpected, a shock to you both.

"Eager for my seed already," he growled against your throat. "That is what you want, yes?"

"Not just your seed." You whined softly when teeth nipped at your flesh, and confessed. “I will not lie when I say I have always desired you, my lord.”

Finrod shivered, half-whispering words in a tongue you did not know. The language was ancient, from another time and place, but they were tender, and as sweet as honey. They brought about fresh needs, feeding them until they had you ensnared in their grip, and left you helpless. Finrod took you up, taking you higher and higher; his rhythm was ceaseless. A new wildness came over him, one that was both swift and brutal. Losing himself in the flesh of another was no longer enough. He wanted to fill you with his seed. He plunged deep and plunged hard, your name coming out like a sob. He rose to his knees and took you with him. 

The room felt like it was spinning, and turning faster and faster. Your rhythm matched his, desperate, frantic, your vision blurring and dimming. Finrod latched onto the crook of your throat. The sting of his teeth grazing tender flesh was barely felt. He took you higher still, over the peak and over the edge, until you were falling into a darkened chasm of euphoric bliss. Finrod could no longer constrain himself. He allowed himself to shatter against the rocks and surrendered without shame. With one last glorious thrust, he emptied himself inside of you. 

Outside, the others were still singing. No one had come to knock on your doors. Finrod slowly dragged himself out of the fog that had surrounded him. He opened his eyes, found yours fixed on his. His hand slowly moved to rest over your belly. A smaller one moved his. It was yours. 

Finrod reflected on his actions, on what just happened, and on the consequences of the choice you both made. Desire and need receded. Shame slowly took its place.

What have I done?

His hunger had been sated, but at what cost? And would this be the end of it at last? Finrod suspected it would not, not as long as he bore the mark of the beast he slew. He now knew he would need you near him, and that was not all. He needed to speak to your kin, and soon. He had to protect you, your honor. He also had questions. 

"About what you said earlier," he began, and touched your cheek. His palm was so warm, it reminded you of the fine bolts of silk merchants brought with them to the Grey Havens. "About you always desiring me. Is that true?"

"Yes," you reply, hoping this encounter will not be the last and that something deeper and more meaningful may come out of it. Being with him had been your greatest wish for almost a year, ever since he first arrived. Such wishes had treated as a fool's dreams, and dismissed as such. Finrod was a high elf. You were a daughter of the Edain. Never did you truly believe he would even consider you until tonight. "From the moment I first laid eyes on you, my lord."

Finrod nodded, and made a decision. "Tomorrow you will take me to your kin. I will speak to them, and make the necessary arrangements. Everything will have to be hurried along. There will be a great many questions, I am sure, and I insist on answering them myself. I hope you understand why. For now, tell me more about yourself, y/n."

[general-illyrin]

I recently re-read (again XD) @that-angry-noldo's incredible fic about Finrod knowing he's being played by Celegorm & Curufin, but choosing to trust them! Afterwards, I began thinking about what sort of masks they would wear to the ball, and I figured Celegorm would wear something like a full-face wolf-shaped mask. But you just know Curufin would be audacious enough to wear a mask with gems reminiscent of the Silmarils in Finrod's halls.