#caranthir imagine

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | When You Fake Your Orgasm

Request: Hi! I’m so happy you opened the request again!☺️ I wanted to ask if you could do the “When you fake an orgasm” with the Feanorians, the one for the Ainur was amazing!! Thank you and have a great day💖

A/N: I didn’t include the twins in this because I was unable to write smut for them. I don’t know why, but I can never envision smut for them, it doesn’t click for me. Sorry, but I also hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, rough sex, spanking, fingering, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, oral sex (male and female receiving), manhandling, restraints, dirty talking, pet names (kitten, little one, bunny, good girl, princess), punishment, reader being mocked

Masterlist | Navigation

Feanor — I don’t know if I should clap you on the back and say, “Great job for challenging a man like him,” or be concerned that you chose to challenge a prideful man like him. Because baby, he’s not letting that slide on his pride. Verdict? Punished

He sensed it, the minute you tossed your head into the pillows and released the most ear-aching groan you attempted to have sound believable, he stopped. There was no shouting, no groaning or fuming like he usually did—he simply pulled out with a loud slick, the look of pure dissatisfaction on his face, and climbed off the bed to stand at the foot. There was a sharp gleam in his eyes the longer he looked at you, contemplating what punishment to dish out—so many options, a lot of time to execute them all, which one came first. He chose to say nothing, instead grabbing you by your calves and dragging you to the foot of the bed.

Before you could properly react, he snatched you by the arm and spun you around, planting your face into the mattress with a hand gripping the back of your neck to firmly keep you rooted. A high-pitched squeal left your throat, but it wasn’t from the sudden roughness of his actions, it was from the loud crack of a hand across your ass, followed by the immediate dragging of his fingers through your folds to harshly rub your clit. “Feels good doesn’t it? So good you could cum all over my fingers right now,” he muttered in your ear, pressing more weight against your sweet spot once he found it, causing a string of gibberish to leave your lips. “Then why don’t you cum right now. Fake another one if you dare.”

“F-Fea…nor—shit—was just a—ngh—joke,” you cried out as you wiggled your hips against the thrusting of his thick and calloused fingers.

“A joke,” he gasped lightly with humour in his tone before continuing, “then I too should give you one as well.” Then, he withdrew his fingers an inch away, listening to you crying out from the loss of pleasure. “Let me give you the best joke in the history of the Noldor—so good, that you’ll remember it forever and even learn a lesson from it.”

Maedhros — what can I say. Best rough fuck of your life? This man had his own sense of humour, and he was about to display how funny he could be during a crucial act since you wanted to play games.

The moment your lips parted to gasp, fingers digging into his biceps and legs tightening around his waist, he smirked. The hands on your waist slid downwards to grip your thighs and curl them into your chest, flush against your breasts while pressing his weight upon you, essentially pinning you beneath him. The new position had his heavy cock pressed deeper within your walls; you were scrambling to find purchase along his sweaty back. “Nggh, fuck—too deep, Mae,” you whined with a pout, brows furrowing and lip biting as he doubled the pace, making the bedframe shake.

“Hmm, I’m as deep as I should be,” he purred against your lips while one hand from your thigh reached up to grip your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact. He chose to roll his hips, his flared tip rubbing against your sweet post, prompting your eyes and walls to flutter as you genuinely came around his cock, a warm gush of your juices coating his length. “That’s more like it. That’s how you should look when you’re about to cum all over my cock,” he grinned and pecked your lips swiftly. “All fucked out, not that phoney performance.”

“M-Mae…please, ’s too much.”

“Uh-Uh.” He was having fun with this, giving your face a small shake while his grip on your jaw tightened. You could feel him deep in your stomach—getting deeper—and the loud squelching sounds of your cunt gushing around his length telling you that he didn’t plan on stopping. “I’m having just as much fun as you faking your orgasm, melda. Why should I stop when all you have to do is lie there and take my cock?” he whispered cynically with a wicked grin. “Or do you want to fake another orgasm again?”

You shook your head, struggling to keep up as another orgasm was approaching after he fucked you through the recent one.

“Good,” he hummed and lifted his body slightly off you, releasing your chin. “Now be a good girl and cum for me again.”

Maglor — the gentle poet isn’t always as gentle as everyone considers him to be, you know? Kano has his tricks up his sleeves, and one of them is ensuring that you’re not leaving this bed unsatisfied, no matter what it takes.

He didn’t even wait for you to finish before he came to a complete halt, staring at you with all the restraint and disbelief. And then, ever so slowly, he broke into a smile—a cunning, wicked smile. “My, my, my, princess. You didn’t tell me that we were performing. Had I known—” he growled and suddenly pulled out to flip you onto your knees, pushing your face into the pillows and sinking your back into a beautiful arch. “—I would have put on an equally, captivating performance as well.”

Whimpering, your excuses falling short when you felt his fingers trail down your spine to dip between your folds, spreading your wetness around to rub lazily circles around your clit. “I hope you know how great of an improviser I am—one of the best. So, I hope you can keep up. It would be a shame—a real shame if you were unable to…” That was all Maglor needed to do to have you falling apart under his touch. Those skilled fingers, working you to the brink and bringing you back down, edging you as if he was playing his harp and plucking strings of cries with each pinch or flick.

His other hand rested at the centre of your back, applying just enough pressure to warn you of his warrior’s strength underneath while his fingers ran through your fold, circling your clit and then down to your entrance, doing everything but sinking inside. The needy whines you released only fuelled him to continue his ministrations as you begged him.

“Kano, quit playing—please, put it in,” you groaned, voice muffled as you pushed your face into the pillow to swallow your needy cries which he revelled in.

“Kano quit playing,” he mocked, laughing at the end as he pulled his fingers away to give your ass a solid smack, jolting you forward. “How demanding? What are you, a star actress who can’t play her part correctly?” In an instant, just as the response was at the tip of your tongue, his cock plunged into your cunt and immediately started moving without an inch of reprieve. “Why don’t you leave the improvising to me, sweetheart, and just do what you’re supposed to. Cum for me when I fuck you.”

Celegorm — gosh, you’re giving his man a game. A thrill. A chase. He’s a hunter—this is the type of game he’s into. Make him work for his prize, and you, my dear, were so kind to delectably present him with the best challenge ever. One neither of you would ever forget.

Coming down from your so-called orgasm, had you trembling in Tyelko’s hold. Ankles locked around his neck, nails curling into his meaty biceps and jaw slackened as you mimicked the expression of ecstasy, but that was never enough to fool the hunter. For in an instant, he leaned into you further, pressing more of his weight against you, squeezing your thighs against your chest, caging you in like some prey with those gleaming, green eyes. “Little bunny wants to make me work to earn an orgasm from her, huh? Acting as though I wouldn’t know what this pussy feels like around my cock,” he taunted with a sickeningly, sinful laugh.

“T-Tyelko, don’t—” Your attempted words were immediately cut off by an abrupt tumble as he rolled over to place you on top, adjusting your legs to straddle his hips, yet pulling you down, chest to chest.

“Shh, kitten. You don’t need to speak—you’ve told me enough.” His cock still buried deep within, started moving sluggishly at first—just for a few strokes to get you relaxed—while he gingerly took both your wrist and bound them with one hand behind your back. As slowly as he moved, it was enough to make your stomach flip. And like the predator he was, his feet planted into the mattress and instantly thrust upwards with much more force jerking you forward, save for the strong arms around your waist.

A loud crack of his hand followed against your ass, groping the flesh before sending another, matching the intensity of his thrust. “Just like that—feels so good doesn’t it? Nice and deep enough to fake another?” he growled, increasing his tempo for the sound of sweaty skin clapping against each other to ripple around the room.

“T-Tyel–…ko—fuck! ’m s-sorry…slow down—ah!” Sputtering his favourite chorus of gibberish, he merely grinned and sunk himself deeper into your cunt, purposefully rubbing his cock head against your sweet spot which had your nails digging into your palms and more juices dripping down his cock.

“Not at all kitten. I’m right where I need to be,” he purred and cracked another hand across your ass. “Chasing as many orgasms I can get all night long.”

Caranthir — he doesn’t do anything half-assed, so why would you make him feel like he wasn’t performing up to standards, huh? Don’t you think that you’re about to be reminded to never test his skills?

A hand pinning the back of your neck to the polished desk while the other torturously dragged its fingers through your dripping cunt—if you thought Moryo was about to let it slide with a fickle excuse of ‘I was just tired,’ you were fooling yourself. He didn’t appreciate the gesture and was fixated on ensuring that you never thought about attempting your foolish jest ever again. And judging from how his fingers glided so smoothly through your cunt, your juices coating his palm and wrists, and the obscenely loud echoes of your thirsty walls sucking him back in, he was making a point. All of this when it was your umpteenth orgasm for the night, and he wasn’t letting up. No amount of, ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘Please don’t tease me,’ or ‘It was just a joke,’ could reduce the number of times you’ve cum all over him.

“Have you learnt your lesson yet, melda?” he questioned with such authority, yet a distinctive quietness in his tone. His question was followed up by a sudden contracting off your walls, spasming around his fingers as they remained still and pressing against your sweet spot. Within seconds, another gush of your arousal oozed out, making his rings and bracelets glisten under the lamps. “Hm, not yet it would appear.”

“Moryo—”

“Silence. You had your chance to answer and missed the opportunity. It is clear to me that you still crave more, so I shall give you more. Enough that you will not attempt such foolishness again.” There was a faint smirk in his tone as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the centre of your back, the same time his fingers regained their pace and continued to fuck you through your orgasm, into the next one. The tremble of your legs as shivered with oversensitivity made him laugh airily, not slowly or increasing his pace, keeping you right there, and giving you want you clearly desired from the start. “You’re doing so well, darling.”

Curufin — nothing misses his eyes. Nothing misses his focus, and you thought it would be a brilliant idea to test the man who was cunning, perspective and undoubtedly harsh when it came to dishing out punishment? Good luck.

“Open—wider.” Just as swiftly as the command came, your mouth was filled with the sliding of his thick cock between your lips to rest heavily against your tongue. He wanted to silence those nasally cries you emitted earlier, calling it the regular sounds you made when you orgasmed, and listen to you gurgling on his cock, rethinking your options. “Just like that. You sound much better.”

All you could do was look up at him through your teary lashes while he tossed his head back, hands tightening in your hair as he held you still. He didn’t move too slow or too quickly, just at the right pace to satisfy him and leave you clenching around nothing in anticipation. A soft, muffled whine escaped your throat when he pulled back, leaving his tip to rest against your lips, causing him to finally open his eyes and look down at you—with disappointment. “What’s wrong? Finally ready to apologise so I can make you cum for your ridiculous stunt?”

You nodded, pouting up at him with your teary eyes, knowing the effect it always had on him. “I’m sorry…won’t do it again.”

Instead, he scoffed. You were so shameless. Fake your orgasm and then had the audacity to be wet while he fucked your throat, wanting his cock to quench your heat. If anything, it made him more irritable. “I’m not so sure that you are sorry,” he corrected, biting his lower lip. “You just want me to stuff you with my cock like the needy little thing you are.”

“You can do whatever you want,” you pleaded. “I just want to cum.”

Rolling his eyes as he tapped his cock head against your lips, signalling you to open up, he pushed into the warmth of your mouth again, exhaling deeply at the welcoming of your heat and wetness. “I am doing whatever I want, darling. And that’s making sure you don’t cum like you wanted from the start.”

Celebrimbor — okay, why would you even try this stunt on this pookie wookie? He’s trying his best to bring you the best pleasure you ever had in your life with passionate precision and you of all things to do…fake your orgasm. Go stand outside in the rain, for making him feel like his performance wasn’t good enough,

His hips stuttered the minute you started vibrating and clinging to him, giving him a world-altering performance of you orgasming. There was a look of sadness washing over you as he continued to observe your shaking figure under him—you were so caught up in acting to notice that he had stopped and slackened his hold on your hips, slightly sitting on his hunches. The way his brain was calculating what to do in the face of such an event he never thought would occur to him. Then, he recalled—a conversation between two of his Lords he overheard speaking about their wives pulling this same stunt.

So, it was a thing. Just you attempting to trick him. He was still saddened deep down, but with a fervour.

Gingerly, he pulled his cock out and shuffled off the bed, noticing how you watched him with curious eyes. “Where are going? You haven’t finished?” you worried, sitting upright and frowning as he slipped back into his trousers, keeping it loose around his waist.

He said nothing as he reached into the drawers for a pair of handcuffs, designed just for you. A little something he was working on for a while to surprise you with, and what a joyous occasion it was for him to introduce them to you because, in mere minutes, your hands were cuffed to the headboard and left sobbing—begging for release, overstimulated. Tyelpë’s mouth worked so fervently against your pussy, giving you all the orgasms in the world so you would never test his abilities again.

A languid drag of his tongue against your clit, followed but a sharp suck had your toes curling, yet, unable to move from the iron grip that held them apart. You were beyond sensitive, unsure if he could milk another orgasm from your thoroughly wracked body.

“Hmm, do you think you can give me one more?” he peered up at you through those gorgeous emerald eyes. How could you say ‘no’ even when this was punishment? And yet you found yourself nodding slowly. “Lovely, let us see if this would be the one to remind you to never try that trick again.”

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @addaigio @hermaeuswhora @elficially-done-with-life @feanorynz @6esi @will-0-wsps @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ella-error505

If you wish to be tagged, click on the Taglist Link to join

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

Waking up next to them - Maedhros and Caranthir

Author's note: She's back with a cutesy set of headcanons :)

-

Maedhros

This is the most peaceful you will ever see him

His nights are short and sleepless, filled with terrors and discomfort

But in the earliest of morning hours, just before the sun rises high enough to wake him, that is when his forehead is free of his nightly frown

Copper tresses are spilling over his pillow onto yours, tickling your nose with their softness

And you awaken to see him sound asleep in a sea of orange

The faint sunlight dances over his freckles and you have to stop yourself from tracing them with your index finger

He needs the rest, you think, his terrors have been particularly heavy lately

So you decide to snuggle up to him and enjoy the feeling of his for once relaxed body against yours; no tense muscles, no shivering, no groans or jolting awake

His breaths are even and full and when the first bird starts his morning song, you look up to see him come to his senses

His eyes are like the fog at sea, clearing up ever so slightly as time passes

And the tiniest of smiles begins to form at the corners of his mouth, which you mirror almost instantly

“Good morning, Mai.”

“Morning..”

Caranthir

He’s most likely awake already

Cara is definitely a morning person, don’t get me wrong, but that doesn’t mean he wants anyone to utter a single word or even breathe in his direction

He tends to have rather scheduled mornings

You seldom catch him in a deep slumber, but he has pillow lines on his puffy face every morning, reassuring you of his well deserved, successful rest

Your eyes are still closed when you feel him stroking your hair gently as not to wake you, before the bed dips, signaling his dreadfully awaited leave

He lets out a soft gasp when you grab onto his tunic as to pull him back into your arms, and gladly lets you spoon him like a backpack

You can feel him smile against your cheek when you bury your face into the crook of his neck and inhale his indescribably comforting scent, sighing into his skin

He laughs, quietly. His voice is hoarse and has a boyish ring to it when he tells you “Good morning, melmenya,” and proceeds to turn around again to catch you opening your sleepy eyes

His arms envelop you in a most affectionate embrace

This morning, you awaken rather quickly to tell him about a dream you had last night, to which he listens intently, musing along to your thoughts

“That’s rather strange, don’t you think?”

Unfortunately, this bliss is short lived, because as soon as he hears the slightest commotion outside your chambers, he’s back to responsible prince mode

But before he inevitably leaves to attend the meeting scheduled for this morning, he makes sure to plant at least a dozen kisses all over your face

“We have to part for now, but I will see you at breakfast, my love..”

[lovefairymina]

*Snuggles sitting on Caranthir's lap.*

"This is my spot; I claim it!"

“Hmm, claiming what isn't genuinely yours is a dangerous act, melda. I'll have no choice but to be forced to defend my keep...through war!” Before you could comprehend his words, his actions sprung on you quickly prompting a chorus of squeals and laughter to follow. Fingers digging into your sides, reigning an army of tickles to defeat his enemy once and for all.

[eunoiaastralwings]

Caranthir accidentally losing his anger on You

featuring caranthir x reader

fandom tolkien — the silmarillion

warnings mental health, emotions, anger issues, angry Caranthir, crying reader and Cara

a/n i have not updated or worked on requests in a long time. not too well - at the moment, so i worked on some feels. I have read and written so many fics and headcanons on Cara being able to keep his cool with his lover/spouse - but what is he could not? What is he accidentally loses his anger on you too? - I mean emotions are still emotions and sometimes the spiral out of control. . . so. . .there is my feels. . .

Caranthir seemed to already be in a bad mood today. Usually - your teasing or affection would melt it away - but today it was suddenly different as you leaned in and teased him.

“Someone looks grumpy too.”

You were going to give him a quick peck on his lips - but suddenly he moved away with an unimpressed face, muttering something under his breath taking a swing of his wine.

His gaze turned away from you.

You can see there’s something on his mind and there’s definitely something wrong.

“Do not, Y/N. . .” 

He suddenly snaps at you in an irritated tone. 

His whole body tenses up - his dark eyes turning down to his glass in an effort to avoid looking at you.

Saying you were surprised in his actions and words was a far fetch, usually your lover wasn’t like this. Usually, he craved your attention - as it brought him peace and quiet, a loving embrace - during his times like these.

You frowned at his behavior looking a little worried.

“Cara. . .what's wrong?” 

You said - placing your small lithe hand on his.

His hands were so big compared to yours.

“It’s nothing.” 

Caranthir replies curtly - his sharp dark eyebrows raised in a confused look. He doesn’t even look at you as he speaks.

“It’s nothing serious - don’t worry” 

He also quickly adds - almost as a reflex to your worried look. 

He sighs silently and takes another sip out of his glass as he leans back and stares up at the ceiling -  avoiding any eye contact with you, his lover.

“Caranthir. . . melda, I definitely know there's something wrong. . .” 

You frowned - your voice in a worried tone.

"Talk to me, Cara. . ." 

You said softly - scooting closer to him on the couch.

“I said! - there’s nothing wrong!”

Caranthir suddenly shouts. 

He turns around and glares at you - his dark eyes he inherited from his grandmother, the great seamstress Míriel Þerindë, filled with anger as he grits his teeth. 

He stands up and turns towards her.

“I shall give you one chance, beloved. Drop it now.”

Caranthir says sternly as he steps closer to you - his fists clenched and his back slightly arched. 

His expression is dark -  his whole presence intimidating and frightening. You‘ve never seen him like this before.

You flinched back - your eyes wide at his sudden angry outburst.

Your breath hitched your throat for a second - scared of his current behavior.

He stares at you with angry eyes, his expression stern and threatening as he waits for you to drop it. 

His nostrils flare.

His fists still clenched and his muscles tensed. 

It seems he’s on the edge of losing his control. 

You can see his eyes are filled with nothing but rage - and the urge to fight, although you can’t see anything triggering that change of his behavior. 

Whatever it is, he clearly doesn’t want you to talk about it - at least not now. . .perhaps he was trying to protect you from it. . .whatever it may be - but currently he needs to protect you from his anger.

You felt her eyes prick with tears - and you slowly blinked away, as you looked away. Your eyes are just on your hands on your lap now.

“Good.”

Caranthir grunts as you stop asking. 

His eyes remain dark and threatening as he watches you silently - his breathing slowly and heavily with anger. 

Caranthir is still standing close to you and you notice he clenches his fists harder - causing his knuckles to turn white.

 He doesn’t look away from you and his face is still hard -  the look in his eyes filled with anger.

You wanted to ask again - but you kept yourself quiet and didn't say or ask anything. You did feel like crying though. . .

You felt like crying so bad - so you got up off the couch and turned to walk away from him.

Caranthir’s dark eyes don’t leave you as you stand  up and turn around - his face still hard and angry as he watches you leave. 

He remains completely still as he looks at you leaving, gritting his teeth before he finally moves again.

Caranthir is angry at himself for losing his control so badly. 

He hates himself for making you feel bad. 

He takes a deep breath - calming himself down and tries to control himself as he moves towards his desk to get a new glass of wine. 

He slowly sits down and takes another sip - as he thinks about what just happened.

You were in your chambers.

You had closed the door behind you - before you climbed into bed and just cried silently.

Caranthir was taking another sip out of his wine - his mind occupied with guilt and anger towards himself. 

He can’t believe he treated you like that. 

He’s disgusted at himself and he doesn’t even notice the time passing. 

After a while though - he realizes that it’s getting late and he finishes the rest of his bottle, before getting up and walking to your bedroom to find his lover there, silent and crying.

Caranthir’s heart sinks as he sees you crying in your bed - his guilt taking over him as he sits down on the bed next to you.

You heard Caranthir come in. 

Your face was buried in your pillow. 

You tried to stop your silent cries altogether. You felt the side of the bed dip as he sat down. 

You didn't say a word to him. 

You didn't feel like talking either -  so you just stayed completely still.

He sighs as he sits there in silence next to you in your bed. 

His guilt eats him alive as he watches you -  feeling horrible about what he did. 

Caranthir takes a deep breath as his eyes focus on you - his gaze full of worry and concern.

“Meldanya? Are you alright?”

Caranthir asks - wiping his fingers through your hair to comfort you.

His voice now softer, a complete contrast to how he was earlier. He sounded caring and loving - the Caranthir you knew.

You didn't respond. 

When he ran his fingers softly through your hair you did tense a little and just hid your face deeper into her pillow and gently fitting the pillow cover.

Caranthir sighs as he sees you tense up. 

His expression softens even more as he tenderly takes your shoulder and gently turns you around to face him -  looking down at you with soft dark eyes. 

“Talk to me, melda. . .please. . .” 

- he pleads quietly. 

His voice is full of concern, making sure you know youcan talk to him about anything. 

Caranthir moves his fingers slowly and gently through your hair - his breath in your ear quiet and warm. 

He stares at you with his calming dark eyes - trying to reassure you everything is fine.

Your eyes were still teary and cheeks still strained with dried tears. 

You looked into his eyes for a second before you turned your head away, ready to turn yourself away from him again too.

“Melda. . .mecin. . .” (please).

Caranthir pleaded with you - his voice desperate. 

He prevented you from turning around.

Caranthir placed his head on your forehead lovingly - trying to hold you close.

It was only when something wet landed on your cheek, did you realize your beloved elf was crying.

Your heart broke seeing the pained and guilted expression on his face - with his eyes shut.

“Nanye nairea. . .” (I’m sorry).

He whispered, pained.

You sighed - ready to break with a fresh round of tears seeing him look so pained and guilt ridden.

You gently placed a hand on his cheek - stroking his cheek softly and wiping away anymore stray tears from your lover’s face.

Caratnhir suddenly relaxes under your touch.

 His expression slowly softens as he takes a deep breath.

A shaky exhale left his lungs as he tried not to cry. 

He closes his eyes for a second - taking another shaky breath and he opens them again, looking down at you with his normal soft dark eyes.

The eyes that looked like the dark sky of the night showing stars.

“I‘m here. . .”

 He mumbles - like a promise. 

His expression is calm and he seems relieved - but also sad.

There’s  guilt written all over Carathir’s face as he stares back at you.

“Áva. . .- ávatyara ni, mecin?” (Forgive me, please).

 Caranthir asks slowly - his voice still softer than before. 

His brows are raised with concern - his expression comforting yet worried. 

He leans his head into your hand as you hold him - his whole body slowly relaxing. 

Caranthir doesn’t look threatening at all anymore like he was earlier - but he does look exhausted. 

It’s only now really showing that he’s really exhausted.

You sighed - wrapping your arms around his shoulders and he quietly cried into your neck - his body shaking.

“Melda. . .I’m here, Cara. . .” 

You whispered - shushing him gently and caressing his hair and back as you comforted your troubled lover.

Once Caranthir pulls away from your neck - you rest his forehead atop of your forehead and slowly closes your eyes again, caressing his cheeks.

He stares into your beautiful eyes - his heart melting at the sight of you. At the sight and the feeling of your foreheads touching - he can’t help but let out a soft and content sigh as he closes his eyes as well, taking a deep breath. 

Your caresses are pleasing and calming - the way you hold your face against his is also calming - and this is exactly what he needed. 

It feels so peaceful in that moment - it feels almost like the moment is freezing, like it‘s so still. . . all he can hear is your soft breaths against each other.

In that soft moment you chose to tenderly press your lips against his lips too.

Your lips touching are soft and gentle - almost like a kiss from heaven. 

His breath catches in his throat as your lips touch his lips.

Caranthir’s heart melting once again.

He takes a deep breath and kisses you back - soft and caring, your lips pressing softly against each other. 

It‘s so peaceful and beautiful, it‘s so perfect. . .the softness of your lips against each other - the warmth of their breath against each other, the smell of your hair. . .

Caranthir can‘t explain how much he loves you. . .

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve @bunson-burner

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi M! Hope I manage to slide this request in on time, may I request Caranthir x reader [AFAB] (if you're writing for the elves) with the bondage prompt for kinktober? Looking forward to lots of spice for kinktober ;)

"The vow"

Pairing: Caranthir x Fem. Reader (human/second person POV) | Location: Forests of Thargelion

Themes: Smut (Lemon/graphic)

Warnings: Brief mention of injuries | Explicit language | Bondage (hands and arms) | Kissing | Sex in a tent | Dirty talk | Rough sex | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Summary: Caranthir makes a vow to his significant other, something which is quite rare for him.

Word count: 1.1K words

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume. 

The strips were freshly woven wool. They were strong and yet soft at the same time. 

They had been wound around your wrists and arms, keeping them in place. It was how Caranthir liked it—having you bound, your body completely open to his whim and pleasure. 

Tonight, there was no exception. The tent rustled softly against the wind that swept through the camp, fallen leaves lifting and swirling around the dying embers of a great pit fire. Inside, it was still warm. A brazier was lit, its dim, flickering light throwing shadows all over Caranthir's ruddy skin.

"You must remain silent, my love," Caranthir commanded in a hushed tone. You had moaned, deep and long and throaty. He was certain the sound carried beyond the tent. "Or the others will hear."

He then reconsidered his command. Why did it matter if the sounds of shared pleasures drifted beyond the boundaries of the tent you had come to share with him? The two of you were bound to each other. Not just in flesh, but in spirit as well. The others knew. His brothers knew. They did not necessarily approve of this cleaving to one another before sacred vows had been exchanged, but they knew. 

Another moan parted your lips. "You ask for the impossible, my love, and you know it."

Caranthir laughed. "Then I should find another way to silence you."

"I thought you already had a way to silence me."

"Oho! Is that the way of it? Very well. I will make use of that little trick of mine some other time. Am I hurting you?"

He was not. Caranthir had been exceedingly gentle as always. It amazed you how an elf as fiery-tempered as the one who sired him could be so gentle at the same time. 

"You are not, my love." Skin slapped against skin when his thighs struck yours, unleashing sparks that turned to flame, setting you ablaze from within. "But I am not certain if I could... Oh, my stars!"

He pulled on the bindings around your wrists and thrust deep, finding the secret place that gave you nothing but the most indescribable bliss. Caranthir had a good grip on your hip and your hands. His legs rested over yours. It stopped you from squirming too much. You enjoyed it, submitting to his will. You turned your head to the side, a little away from your pillow. It was all the better then. 

"Good." Caranthir stopped. He leaned down ever so briefly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "And when Rána is at its brightest, I will make good on my vow. I will take you to wife, with my kin and our followers as witnesses. I will not be like that fool, Aegnor. I will not give you up, as he did Andreth. I love you, and you are mine."

"And I cannot wait for that day," you reply without even a moment's reflection. Reflection was not needed. Not now. Not after everything the two of you had endured together. "I love you, Morifinwë."

His eyes slowly filled with tears. They were welcome tears, a sign of his joy. A hand callused by years of fighting and sword use skimmed over your belly. It made you shiver. He pulled out of you, turned you onto your back, and entered you again. Caranthir moved, slowly and gently this time, his hand resting on your cheek. He repeated a pledge he once made when the two of you lay beneath an inky black sky, with nothing but the stars as witnesses. 

"Flesh of two, joined as one. Bound in spirit. Bound in body. Bound beneath the light of the stars. Bound for all days, till the end of all days. Perhaps, if the great ones are willing, even beyond that."

You repeated his words, your breath nothing more than quickening gasps. It was as if you had been running. Caranthir panted. He whispered sweet obscenities in your ear—the kind one should not expect to hear from an elf of such high birth. 

“I enjoy nothing more than looking into your eyes while I fuck you.”

“I cannot get enough of how eager you are to submit to me like this, letting me use that glorious body of yours however I see fit.”

“I know I urged you to be quiet before, but now I yearn to hear you cry out my name when I take you over the cliff.”

He leaned down and kissed you. His skin smelled of the cold, clean air and the fields he loved to ride in. His name came so easily to you. Morifinwë. Morifinwë. Morifinwë. It was like a song for his ears alone. He was now ceaseless, his mouth parting in a strangled cry. It triggered something hot and sweet—a gathering that spread just beneath your skin. His name left your lips again, now ragged, desperate, and hungry. Caranthir sated it, making you soar, taking you higher and higher until you cried out, loudly and without shame. Then he let himself go with a low groan, his entire body quivering violently before it slowly went still. He shuddered, his spend spilling freely after one last, powerful thrust. 

The world beyond the tent was still quiet, save for the sudden, sharp gasps of chilling wind. Caranthir took a deep, steadying breath and drew back, then laid you down on the pelts that served as a feather bed. He undid your bindings. The painful, abrupt rush of blood made you yelp. He rubbed your arms to soothe you.

"Do these still hurt?" He asked. 

Your gaze skimmed over the ugly scars that served as a visible reminder of the nightmarish orc raid that nearly claimed your life. 

"Not anymore." Your sigh of relief rose from the tips of your toes when Caranthir ran his hands down trembling limbs, taking great care not to be too rough or fast. It made you feel so pampered. "I just cannot bear to look at them."

It was one Caranthir loathed above all—how he could not take the scars away. "I do not love you any less for it," he returned, dipping his head to kiss a scar that cut across your shoulder. "But I will see what else I can do."

"It does not matter," you reply. Caranthir had done so much for you already. It was another aspect of him that surprised you—the lengths he was willing to go to make sure you were well and happy. "You having done all that you could already is enough for me."

Caramthir smiled—really smiled. He stayed awake, content to watch while you curled into him and slept. 

[corsairspade]

there are many reasons I like the "Erestor son of Caranthir" headcanon but secretly the main one is that I'm imagining all of the remaining noldo auditors sighing of relief when Caranthir dies and they don't have to try play 4d chess with multiverse time travel trying to catch this guy doing tax evasion. life is good for exilic auditors now.

and then suddenly Elrond and Elros turn up again! even better! oh who's this, Elrond? your good friend Erestor? he's helping you with your taxes? oh how swe- what is this Elrond. What is this. your paperwork for your taxes you say. not a declaration of war? because it looks like a declaration of war on the exilic auditors, Elrond.

and then all the auditors are so busy doing "extreme tax auditing™" for the first time since the second Kinslaying that they don't tell anyone they're pretty sure there's another scion of the house of Fëanor running around.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

A conversation with my siblings but make it Fëanorians:

Celegorm: Cide means to kill, right?

Curufin: Pretty much.

Celegorm: Regicide… Patricide… What do you call killing your brother?

Caranthir: Pesticide

[zealouswerewolfcollector]

But speaking of Tolkien's discarded ideas, the one where Celegorm and Curufin are friends with Finarfin's (then Finrod's) sons and smuggle them on the swan ships is wild.

Fëanor and his folk seized all the ships and sailed east across the sea, and they took none of the other companies save Orodreth, Angrod, and Egnor (Aegnor), whom Celegorm and Curufin loved.

First of all, I love how it sounds - whom Celegorm and Curufin loved - very touching and humanizing.

Imagine being Fingon, though, the same Fingon who's close in friendship with Angrod and Aegnor and Maedhros (or used to be at least). Imagine waking up and realizing that your closest friends have abandoned you without a word. Imagine realizing or finding out that Maedhros's asshole brothers loved their friends enough to take them with them, but neither Maedhros nor Angrod and Aegnor bothered with you.

[animatorweirdo]

Feanorians: Being Their Soulmate...

Different soulmate troupes with the Feanorians.

Requested by Anon

Hi animatorweirdo!

Can I send in a request for different soulmate tropes for the Feanorians and when they find their soulmate? (for example, tropes like the red-string of fate, timer countdown, having a tattoo that symbolizes them on your body, etc).

Thank you so much and I can't wait to see what you come up with!!

(Author note: I didn't do Curufin and the twins as I could not come up with anything with them. )

Warnings: mentions of the book events, mentions of Maedhros's captivity, loss of a hand, separation, reluctance, the oath, doom, and rejection.

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

Maedhros —  Tattoo 

- Maedhros would have a small tattoo on the back of his right hand, right below his thumb and index finger. He would have been confused the first time it appeared, but then he would be excited when his parents or someone else told him it was the mark of his soulmate. 

- He had been given a tattoo that represented his soulmate. His soulmate would bear a tattoo on the same spot that represented him and he would know once he had seen them. 

- Growing up in Valinor he would check people’s hands to see if they had a tattoo on the same spot as him. 

- If you two met in Valinor, he would find a small star on the back of your right hand below your thumb and index. 

- He would be delighted to have finally found you, and most likely would have not hesitated to get to know you and start a relationship with you. His family would be happy for him. 

- However, if you two met in Middle Earth. His feelings about finding his soulmate would be much more complicated. 

- For example, the great enemy mocking the mark of his soulmate and threatening to find them would have left him reluctant to ever find his soulmate. Losing his right hand would have solidified his decision. 

- He would stare at his missing hand from time to time, remembering the mark of his soulmate. He would hope his soulmate would never find him as his reputation would certainly tarnish theirs. 

- If you two did manage to meet, he would feel strange pulling toward you. If you two clicked very well, he would mistake it for simple crushing or fondness. However, that would not be the case when he sees the star on your right hand. 

- Realizing you were his soulmate would cause him to distance himself away from you, startled and anxious to realize you were his one. He would then make a hard decision, to either give himself this chance to feel your love or push you away and possibly save you from the doom that followed him. 

- If he decided to embrace the fact and allow himself to be selfish just once, Maedhros would not reveal you were soulmates but enjoy your company. He would have decided to enjoy it while it lasted because relationships would not last during wars. His feelings for you would have grown but he would have kept it as a good friendship, and it would have hurt less when you two had to separate. 

- If he decided to distance himself and cut ties with you, his soul would ache for your presence and he would feel miserable for causing you to feel sad and confused by his sudden distance. He would have most likely been harsh and explained that you two couldn’t talk to each other, growing the drift between you. 

- Making you leave would be the hardest decision he had ever made. However, it would ease his soul to know you would not be doomed by him and his oath. 

- If there was a chance Eru took pity on you, he would either allow you to meet again in better circumstances or let you have someone else for a soulmate. 

Maglor — Red string of fate

- (Because I think Maglor would love tragic love stories, the red string of fate would be fitting for him.)

- Maglor would be blooming with excitement when one day he saw a red string attached to his finger. He would have read all about the red string of fate and would have most likely been eager to go on an adventure to find his soulmate, the red string being his guide. Unfortunately, he was too young to go on his own. 

- Growing up, he would occasionally check on the red string to see if his soulmate was nearby as the red string would extend or become more clear when his soulmate was near. 

- If you two met on Valinor, it would have happened during a party or one of his performances. He would be surprised to see the red string suddenly become visible and lead his eyes upon you. However, it would not have been an unwelcome surprise and he would have jumped on the first chance to talk with you. 

- His search would finally be over after meeting you and his family would have to suffer his constant serenading of finding his soulmate. 

- However, if you met on Middle Earth, his feelings would be slightly reluctant, but not opposed to it. 

- After the whole kin slaying and burning of the boats, he would have wished he would not find his soulmate. The red string went more distant, but he would be surprised to find the red string showing itself more one day. 

- He would be curious to find them and one day when he met you, he would feel happy. 

- He would be more open about revealing being his soulmate and having a relationship with you. However, since he and his kin were at war with Morgoth, the relationship would have to be kept as a secret. 

- However, if he decided you two would be better off without each other. He would send you away with good wishes and hopes that fate would allow you to meet again, and thus ends the tragic love story.

 

Celegorm — Dreams/Led by your pets

- As a hunter, I think Celegorm would have a prophetic dream about an animal that would lead him to his soulmate. 

- In his dreams, he would see an animal he is meant to find and follow to find his soulmate. He is a free spirit so he might find the dreams and the thought of having a soulmate slightly annoying. 

- However, if he came to meet with the said animal from his dreams he would not be opposed to following it and seeing what would happen. And when that happens, Huan would go missing and ignore his calls. 

- He would then find you with the animal and Huan who had led you to him. Perhaps that time, he would be more open and excited when he locked his eyes with you, especially if you two met in the woods of Valinor and the animal turned out to be your companion. 

- However, if you met in Middle Earth, I do not think Celegorm would not hesitate to have a relationship with you. If you both were hunters I think the relationship would go pretty smoothly. 

- But, if the oath comes between you, Celegorm might let you go in order for you to be safe from danger, or if you do not agree, and that he made it clear he would not give up the oath even for you. 

- Separation from you might cause him to become slightly more violent, but the thought of you being somewhere safe might ease it just a bit. 

Caranthir — Timer

 - A timer would suit Caranthir. 

- He would have been very confused when one day he found a clock drawn on his hand and it would not go away no matter how much he washed. 

- It would take both his parents to explain he had received a soulmate clock, which tells how long it would take to meet his soulmate: the more hours and minutes the farther away and the less how close his soulmate is. 

- The idea would not wrap around his head for a while, especially if the clock showed several hours, which only meant his soulmate was nowhere near. 

- He would be thrilled to find out when his clock reveals fewer minutes and would look around in curiosity till he found you. 

- I think he would be slightly shy, but would not avoid you. If you two click and you show your timer, then it would be the start of a beautiful relationship.

- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, he would be skeptical about having a relationship with you. 

- Seeing there was no hope after his reputation as a kin slayer and war with Morgoth, he saw it would be best not to seek out his soulmate. 

- So, imagine the shock he would feel when he finds his timer running toward the end and eventually finding you. 

- In some parts of his soul he would have been thrilled, but due to his unfortunate circumstances, he might avoid revealing about being your soulmate. However, due to the tugging in his soul, he might make a friendly relationship with you. 

- He would feel ease from his anger, and it would slightly hurt him to know he might have to separate from you. 

- He would enjoy it while it lasted, before sending you off with heartfelt goodbyes. 

Celebrimbor — A strand of hair

- Celebrimbor would be surprised to find a strand of his hair had turned into a different color, but would be delighted when he learned it was the clue of his soulmate and that his soulmate would have a strand of his hair color. 

- He would not mind walking around with the new color and sometimes styling it while searching for the one who had his hair color. 

- If you two met on Valinor, it would be joyful. 

- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, his feelings on the matter would have died down. 

- But when he suddenly meets you one day and sees the dark strand of hair across your hair. He became frightened as he could feel tugging from within his very soul. 

- He should feel happy by his kin’s standards. He had been blessed by chance to meet his soulmate, but his past and the reputation of his house had left him reluctant. He had hidden the color of your hair in hopes he might not accidentally meet you or anyone who might figure out who his soulmate is. In his mind, you were not worthy to get tarnished by his house’s past, but fate, of course, has worked against him. 

- However, if you were not intimidated by his past, Celebrimbor’s fear might vanish and he might entertain the idea of getting to know you. It would take a lot of time to convince himself to finally reveal your hair color on his hair, and wait for your reaction as your hair colors would match and return to normal.

- If you were happy by the reveal, Celebrimbor might then be confident enough to have a relationship with you. However, he would let you go if you weren't eager by the reveal and decided to leave. He would not blame you, but he would feel a painful aching for your presence and heartache for your rejection.

[sakasakiii]

the idea of the peredhel twins having heightened senses due to their maia blood is one of the concepts ive seen floating around that i really like, so here's my take on it combined with the feanorians (+ fingon) lingering about as houseless spirits that i explored some time ago in an old inktober post 😌

houseless spirits see all, but they can't interact with the world around them so i suppose that makes for quite a static existence...but compared to an oathbound eternity in Mandos (sans Fingon??), i like to imagine they'll stay a little longer to watch over those left behind, just to make sure they're doing alright 👍🏻

some more lighthearted bonuses cuz why not:

[doodle-pops]

When You Take Care Of Them

Headcanon: Curufin, Caranthir, Fingon, Galdor, Rog

Request: How about hcs for reader spoiling our elves? 🥰 (with caranthir, fingon, galdor, rog and curufin) like they‘ve been going through a stressful time and reader decides to set aside a day to just focus on them and help them get some relaxation (be it a spa day, picnic in a secluded spot or just a cozy day inside playing games/reading) do they happily go along with whatever you‘ve planned? Keep insisting it‘s not necessary until reader has to be like „just shut up and let me take care of you“? – @spirit-of-felagund

A/N: I don’t why, but telling the characters to “shut up,” or “be quiet” has brought me joy while writing about them being pampered and babied.

Masterlist | Navigation

Curufin

The forge had been his prison for days. Tools strewn across every surface, half-forged blades cooling in haphazard piles, and Curufin, shoulders tense and brow furrowed, barely looked up when you entered. His hands were stained with soot, knuckles white from gripping a hammer too tightly, and his hair which usually meticulously combed, was pushed back in wild disarray. The scent of molten metal clung to him like a second skin.

“You need to stop,” you said, arms crossed as you leaned against the doorframe.

Curufin didn’t even glance at you. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am.” The clang of steel against the anvil punctuated his words, but you weren’t having it. Days had passed since he’d stepped out of the forge, and you could see it—how exhaustion sat heavily on him, how his movements, once fluid, were edged with frustration.

You strode forward, snatching the hammer from his hand mid-swing prompting him ro finally looked up with narrowed eyes.

“I said I’m fine,” he punctuated with a huff.

“And I said you’re not.”

The heat between you could have melted the iron on his workbench. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze flickered to your hand on the hammer, then back to your face, but when you didn’t move, he let out a sharp breath.

“You’re difficult.”

“And you’re stubborn.”

Curufin wiped his hands on a cloth, tossing it aside with more force than necessary. “What exactly do you have planned?”

“A day off.”

He arched a brow.

“You’re going to stop working,” you said, tilting your head towards the doorway, “and let me take care of you for once.”

Curufin let out a dry chuckle. “I don’t need—”

“You do.”

His smirk faded as you stepped closer, eyes locked onto his. “You’re exhausted, Curufin. I see it. Just let me do this.”

He hesitated, but something in your voice, in the gentle insistence behind your words, made him relent. “Fine.”

Tugging at his wrist and pulling him out the forge, past the main hall, until the tranquillity of the library enveloped both of you. Large windows stretched to the ceiling, letting in streams of light that warmed the space. The air smelled faintly of old parchment and cedarwood, a stark contrast to the forge’s acrid tang.

There Curufin crossed his arms, on the verge of rolling his eyes. “This is your grand plan? Reading?”

“Yes.” You shoved a book into his chest, almost sending him backwards.

He stared at it, then back at you. “You dragged me away from forging for this?”

“I could tie you to a chair if that’d help you relax more.”

For a moment, his lips twitched, and for the first time in days, a faint glimmer of amusement softened his sharp features. “Tempting.”

“Then sit down and I’ll read.”

Reluctantly, he slumped into the armchair near the fire and waited for you to sit beside him, flipping the book open. Your melodic voice stretched between you as you read, the only sound the crackle of flames interrupting. However, very slowly did his posture melted, the tension bleeding from his frame with every turn of the page until he felt his eyes growing heavier.

When your eyes flickered up, you noticed him curled beside the chair leg with his head slumped and mouth opened as soft snores escaped. Shaking your head at his stubbornness, you shut the book and placed it on your lap, peacefully watching your husband catch some sleep.

Caranthir

Caranthir had been brooding by the lakeside when you found him with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the water as if it had somehow personally offended him. His hair, tangled from the wind, brushed against his shoulders, and his cloak barely clung to one side. He barely acknowledged your approach, only the faintest flicker of his gaze greeting you.

“You’ve been out here all day,” you said, settling beside him on the grass.

He grunted.

“Brooding doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m not brooding.”

“You are.”

He fell silent while his eyes remained fixated on the water. Gently you leaned over and nudged him lightly with your elbow. “Come with me.”

“I’m fine.”

“Moryo.” Your voice sharpened, and his eyes finally met yours, dark and unreadable. “You’re not fine. You need to stop shutting yourself away.”

A frown marred his face but didn’t argue, which for Caranthir was as close to surrender as you were going to get. So, quietly you led him away from the lake, through the woods until the scent of earth and pine surrounded you. The trees thinned as you reached a small clearing where a blanket had been laid out, baskets resting at the edge.

When he saw the sight, he raised a brow. “You planned a picnic?”

“You need fresh air and food that isn’t hastily thrown together at midnight.”

Once again he grunted, but this time it was less irritable. With a heavy sigh, he dropped onto the blanket, stretching his legs in front of him while you unpacked the basket, laying out bread, fruit, and cold cuts of meat. In silence, his eyes lingering on your hands as you handed him a plate.

“You’re not eating?” he asked, chewing thoughtfully.

You shook your head. “I wanted to make sure you actually ate first.”

His gaze softened, though his expression remained neutral. “You’re too persistent.”

“You’re too difficult.” Your remark earned you a low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he reached for another piece of bread. The sunlight filtering through the trees warmed his skin, and for the first time in days, his features relaxed.

When you leaned back against the grass, Caranthir glanced at you sideways. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you refuse to take care of yourself.”

He hummed quietly, eyes drifting to the treetops above. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“I know.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. Every so often did his hand brushed against yours absentmindedly as he reached for another piece of fruit, and he didn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, after the last of the food had been eaten. “For not letting me wallow.”

“I’d do it again,” you replied with a small smile.

His lips twitched, and he let out a breath he’d been holding far too long. As the wind rustled the leaves overhead, he let himself lean back beside you, the tension slowly ebbing away.

Fingon

The living room was warm with the soft glow of the fireplace, the light dancing lazily along the stone walls. Fingon sat slouched in the armchair near the hearth, his hair undone, cascading over his shoulders like a black waterfall. He was still clad in his usual attire—worn leather bracers on his forearms, the edges of his tunic slightly frayed from overuse. His sword belt lay discarded at the door, a rare sight.

You had to practically wrestle it off him, insisting there was no need for weapons today. He’d tried to argue, but one sharp glare had silenced him. Fingon might have been a prince, but in your home, he wasn’t above being told off. His eyes followed you now, tracking every movement as you placed a steaming mug of mulled wine on the low table in front of him. “Drink it,” you said, voice brooking no room for protest.

He arched a brow but obeyed, fingers wrapping around the mug. The warmth seemed to sink into him slowly, and he exhaled.

“You didn’t have to—”

“Shut up.”

His mouth quirked at that, the ghost of a grin flickering across his lips.

You perched yourself on the arm of his chair, brushing a lock of hair behind his ear. His shoulders tensed slightly under your touch. Fingon had carried too much weight on them lately, and the knots beneath your fingertips told the story well enough.

“Lean forward.”

He hesitated. “I can handle a few aches, it’s not—”

“I wasn’t asking, Fingon.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, with a soft sigh, he leaned forward, letting you press your hands into the hard lines of his back.

“You know,” he murmured after a while, eyes half-lidded as you worked over the muscles near his neck, “for someone so small, you have no sense of fear. Ordering me about like one of your servants.”

“I’d treat your servants better than you treat yourself.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm.

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re tense. So, be quiet and let me help.”

His head lolled slightly forward, hair slipping over his shoulders, and you worked quietly. His breathing slowed, and his shoulders gradually eased under your touch. The fire crackled softly beside you both, filling the room with the scent of burning cedarwood.

After a while, Fingon’s voice broke the quiet. “I can’t remember the last time I sat still like this.”

“That’s the problem.”

He glanced up at you, eyes catching the firelight, gold flickering in the dark. For a moment, there was something softer there—vulnerability he rarely let anyone see. You resisted the urge to kiss him, instead kneading your thumbs deeper between his shoulder blades.

“You take care of everyone else, but who takes care of you?”

His gaze held yours for a breath longer before he dropped his eyes to the flames.

“I have you, don’t I?”

You paused, fingers stilling against his back. He didn’t look at you, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

Galdor

The storm outside had rolled in thick and heavy, drenching the streets of Gondolin with rain that pattered relentlessly against the windows. There in the armchair by the hearth, Galdor sat, his brows furrowed in that quiet, ever-present tension he never seemed to shed. His broad shoulders carried the weight of command long after he left the barracks, and it wasn’t difficult to see how it gnawed at him, day by day.

You watched him for a while, standing quietly in the doorway. He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, too caught up in whatever report he’d been scribbling at the small writing desk beside him. The flickering firelight danced across his strong profile, softening the stern set of his jaw.

“Galdor,” you said, stepping forward, “that’s enough for today.”

He didn’t even glance up. “I’m nearly done—just a little longer.”

Crossing the room, you planted yourself in front of him, blocking his view of the desk entirely. His eyes finally lifted, meeting yours with mild confusion. “You’re done,” you said firmly as you crossed your arms. “Come on.”

His lips quirked faintly at your tone. “You know, I outrank you.”

“And I outrank those reports,” you countered, grabbing his wrist and tugging him to his feet. He didn’t resist, though his gaze flickered towards the half-finished parchment.

“It’ll wait.”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue, guiding him away from the desk and towards the large, plush settee you’d piled with blankets and cushions earlier. The hearth crackled invitingly nearby, warmth radiating through the room. A tray sat ready on the low table—steaming mugs of spiced wine and small plates of fresh bread, cheese, and fruit.

He raised a brow. “What’s all this?”

“A distraction,” you said, gently pushing him to sit. He sank into the cushions with a quiet exhale, the tension in his shoulders loosening, though his eyes still lingered on the tray.

“You didn’t need to—”

“Galdor,” you cut in sharply, your patience thinning, “just shut up and relax.”

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before a rare laugh escaped him—low and rumbling, a sound you didn’t hear often enough. “Understood.”

Sinking down beside him, you passed him a mug of wine, and for a time, silence settled between you, broken only by the crackling fire and the rhythmic tapping of rain against the glass. His large hand brushed against yours when he reached for a piece of bread, but he didn’t pull away.

“Thank you,” he said softly, the words barely audible over the fire. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked back to the flames, his shoulders finally easing into the comfort you’d laid out for him.

Rog

The forge was quiet, an unusual state for it. Tools lay untouched, the great anvil cold and unlit. Rog stood near the window, arms folded across his chest, gazing out over the city below. His frame filled the space effortlessly, broad shoulders tense even as he tried to appear at ease.

“Turn around,” you called from behind him.

He grunted but didn’t move. “I don’t see why you’re fussing over this.”

“Because if I don’t, you’ll work yourself to the bone. Now, sit down and stop being stubborn.”

There was a long pause before he finally turned, arching a thick brow at the set-up behind you. A wide basin of hot water sat beside a cushioned bench, steam curling lazily into the air. Oils and herbs rested on a tray nearby, their rich scents filling the space.

“You’re planning to drown me?”

“If you keep resisting, maybe.”

Rog sighed but stepped over, towering over you as usual. He lowered himself onto the bench, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. You knelt by the basin, pulling off his boots without ceremony. His feet slipped into the hot water, and he grunted softly, head tipping back against the wall.

“You’re stubborn,” he muttered.

“So I’ve been told.”

You took his arm next, rolling up his sleeve. Scars crisscrossed his skin, stories you’d heard in fragments over the years. His hands—rough, calloused things—were surprisingly gentle as you rubbed warm oil into his forearms, kneading the tension from the muscles there. The sensation was enough to make his eyes shut and his breathing slowed.

“You should’ve been a healer,” he murmured after a while.

“Too much responsibility. I’d rather handle one stubborn blacksmith at a time.”

He huffed a soft laugh, but his shoulders eased under your touch. You worked in silence, pressing your fingers into the tense lines of his forearm, feeling the knots slowly release.

After a while, Rog shifted, cracking one eye open. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because someone needs to,” you replied simply, meeting his gaze.

He studied you for a moment, then closed his eyes again, leaning into your touch. “You’re too good to me,” he exhaled.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

His lips quirked. “I just don’t want you to think I expect this. I can handle myself.”

You tightened your grip slightly, enough to make him wince. “No one said you couldn’t. But you don’t have to, not today.”

For a long while, there was nothing but the soft crackle of the nearby fire and the faint lap of water against the basin’s edge.

Rog’s voice broke the quiet eventually. “Thank you.”

You glanced up at him. His eyes were soft now, warm in a way they rarely were. “Don’t make it a habit,” you teased.

He chuckled, low and rumbling. “Too late for that.”

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @batsyforyou @asianbutnotjapanese @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @ladyenchanted @hermaeuswhora @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @feanorynz

If you wish to be tagged, click on the Taglist Link to join

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

Imagine Caranthir teaching you embroidery

Author’s note: I’m a big fan of the Cara embroidery trope!

-

The air is dry and warm in front of the fireplace when you lean over his shoulder to watch Carnistir‘s fingers intently.

“See how I stitched it right here? It has to be symmetrical,“ he muses, showing you the collar of the tunic laying in his lap. The embroidery slowly begins to look like a tendril holding flowers the more stitches he places on the fabric. His hands are calm and controlled, not trembling one bit.

“Do you want to try it? It is your tunic, after all,“ he looks at you expectantly, a small smile playing on his mouth. You hesitate, trying to remember the patterns he taught you moments before. “Alright, but be patient with me.“ He chuckles, reaching over to place the tunic in your lap instead and handing you the needle and thread after. You begin to pierce the fabric carefully, looking up at him every once in a while to make sure you are doing it correctly, to which he nods his head in encouragement.

“Very good. Now poke it right here and pull the thread through to there. Remember to keep it symmetrical.“ his voice is soft and patient, something you greatly appreciate. Turns out, your hotheaded husband has a hidden talent for teaching. You remember when you found him in front of the fireplace, in his silky lounge wear, finding out he spends his evenings embroidering fabrics for himself and his brothers. You think it adds yet another fascinating facet to his character. All the more grateful are you now, having him teach you his techniques. It‘s oddly fitting, this pastime of his. You slowly continue to weave small flowers into the ends of the tendril on the fabric, until it reaches the edge of the fabric. Carnistir‘s hand comes up to take the needle from your uncertain fingers. “Excellent. Let me do the finishing touches. Do you wish for me to add some beadwork, as well?“

Nodding enthusiastically, you clasp your hands together to watch as he pierces the needle through the spots you missed in your inexperience, before threading dark blue beads onto the centers of the flowers you just embroidered. A quick peck is planted on your temple by the prince, as he works away to the sound of the fire crackling in front of you. And before you know it, he holds up the tunic triumphantly.

“There, all done!“ A big smile graces his usually so serious features and you jump up excitedly, grabbing it out of his hands before stepping up to the nearest mirror in the room to admire the finished product. Behind you, Carnistir‘s gaze is proud and supportive. “We should do this more often,“ you feel his arms snake around your frame from behind, pulling you into his chest protectively. Another kiss is being planted on the top of your head, to which you agree wholeheartedly. Anything you get to learn from him, you consider a precious gift.

“Now, you have to try it on!“

[lovefairymina]

"They say all your brothers are beautiful, Carnistir, but you are the most beautiful of them all, neber forget that!" you said and gave Caranthir a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Grabbing your hand before you could run off, he tugged you into his chest and encircled his arms around your waist. Peering down at you, he hooked his finger under your chin and pecked your forehead. “You are far too kind, melda. You are a rare gem in my life.”

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hello, may I get headcanons for how an elf with a strict or serious attitude would react to being chosen by the valar, to act as a mentor to raise and teach a young human child, in their early teen years? Like how would they react to the child being very hyper and excited all the time and just wants to play, like how young kids usually do. Elves being very serious most of the time and wise, how would they react to having to deal with a complete opposite of themselves. Would they get mad and frustrated, or have patience? Would they try a different method of teaching to get them to pay attention? Etc? And how would they react to other humans or elves belittling the child for being raised by another race? You can choose the elf or elves if you want that would best fit this ask. One that is pretty much serious or is not used to being around kids.

Caranthir with a Hyperactive Human Child

featuring caranthir and adopted child (gender neutral)

fandom tolkien — the silmarillion

warnings mortality vs immortality

a/n i mean the 1st person that came to mind was Cara - who else but Cara lmaoo. I hope you enjoy this anon <;/3 thanks again@theladyvanya I owe you my life

Carnistir let out another sigh - witnessing your attention had yet again diverted elsewhere. He pinched the bridge of his nose as you blabbered on about whatever else that was not important as of this moment.

He really could not understand why the Valar had chosen him of all people - to mentor this hyperactive human child.

He still remembered standing before the Queen of the Stars herself - in shock and disbelief as she handed over you to him.

You were in fits of laughs and giggles - eagerly wrapping your arms around his legs.

Carnistir had asked Queen Varda as to why - but she chose not to reply him and only encouraged him to take care of you.

It was havoc at first - he has 6 brothers, 3 younger ones too, kids weren’t exactly a new concept to him but mentoring and raising you had been a completely different concept.

Not even the Ambarussa was this hard.

Carnistir had found himself in the aid of his mother multiple times.

His mother, being the ever wiser, had tried to advise both himself and you - you were simply a child craving his constant attention in whatever little thing that fascinated you.

He couldn’t understand why you couldn’t sit in one less and listen to him - however Nerdanel had explained to him children did not have the same attention span as adults.

Something he should have known. . .

But he couldn’t even teach more than 3 seconds - before you bounded off to somewhere interesting in whatever was in the other end of the room or happily rattled off about a particular story you read.

He let out a sigh and tried to speak with you - but chose to remember his mother’s advice.

Carnistir supposed it was getting late - he scooped you up in his arms still wondering how had bundles of energy to be fighting against him and refusing to be put to bed.

Sometimes it made him wonder if you were actually a human child.

He had placed Tyelko on a pedestal on being the one to never run out of energy - but somehow even you outturned him.

But he had come to terms on this is just who you were and he could not ever ask you to change - in all honesty he had grown to admire your hyperactive self, even if it made him roll his eyes or made him frustrated.

Some days Queen Varda had come to see how you were doing - and some days she took you away for a few days and Carnistir found those days to be quite lonely or too silent.

Usually he welcomed the peace and quiet with open arms but he found to be rather restless these days now - missing how you bound over to either him or something you found interesting in his study.

Or your endless chatter - he missed it so much.

The day you had returned to him - Carnistir found himself crouching with arms open ready to grasp you into a tight hug as you came running over and he closed his eyes in relief.

It was something he had never done so - but at that moment it felt like a natural reflex like he had been doing it all his life.

He had shocked himself with the gesture and how tightly he held onto you like you were his own. . .

It was at that moment he knew - you definitely made sure to keep yourself as a permanent fixture in his life. He loved hearing whine and cry for his attention in the mornings when you awake tired and hungry.

He loved how giddy how you jumped on his lap as he tried to do this work.

He loved how you babble out complete nonsense in the middle of meetings - making everyone in the room laugh.

He loved how you cuddled into his arms rubbing your sleepy eyes whenever you were tired from your active day.

He loved it all - and he would change any of it for the world.

When Carnistir had announced to adopt you - Queen Varda and Nerdanel was most pleased, it had been Fëanáro, his father that took the most convincing to take you into the family.

In all honesty he was afraid of his Morifinwë facing the mortality of the human child he decided to adopt and raise as his own.

But soon even you managed to melt the crown prince’s heart with hyperactive self and infectious giggles.

So soon - Carnistir had you as his own child, loving you just the way you were.

Though he still receives questionable looks and concerns - he never let any of it stop it from loving and spending every moment with you. . .

Because Eru knew, Carnistir did not have much time with you because of mortality. . .

Good luck with suitors - no one seems to be good enough for his child.

But when you finally find the one - he will be accepting, after being the big scary overprotective dad.

Your passing away would have been the hardest thing he would have to face - and it would have killed him too, but he kept himself alive and watched over your family line, never letting anything happen to your kin and descendants.

It was like seeing you being reborn again. . .

Taglist form

tara's taglist: @wandererindreams @fizzyxcustard @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @asianbutnotjapanese @floraroselaughter @mismaeve

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The first of many glorious nights

This is for the writer's challenge (nos. 4 and 5. The smut word that makes me cringe? "Mount/Mounting") by @silmsmutweek

Pairing: Haleth x Caranthir | Location: Thargelion

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Sexual activity | Penetrative sex | Cream pie 

Word count: 615 words

Summary: Haleth accepts Caranthir's offer to stay by spending the night with him.

Rating: 🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume 

This ficlet can also be found on AO3.

Moonlight spilled in through the open windows, forming shadows that rose and fell with his chest.

Haleth thought him the fairest creature she had ever beheld, but now, bathed in dim light, he was positively ethereal.

And to think I nearly refused his invitation to live with him and his kin.

Haleth nearly refused a great many things: to have her people live amongst the Eldar and learn from them; to enjoy their protection, their company, his company, his bed, his body. Oh yes, Haleth nearly refused him. All of him. Wiser counsel prevailed in the end. She stayed. Accepted Caranthir for her own. Now she was here inside his bedchamber, sharing his furs and yielding to the wild demands of his hands, his mouth. Fresh desire tore through her like a white-hot blade when he moved onto his back, and she mounted him, taking him inside her in a slow, fluid movement. Her breath caught when he filled her to the hilt.

Eru save me, she thought. He feels wondrous even inside of me.

Caranthir shivered beneath her while he lay against the pelt, his walnut hair spreading out all around him like spilled ink. Clear hazel eyes—a rare sight amongst his kin—remained fixed on her, brimming with insatiable hunger. He whispered her name, his breath rough, desperate, amplified. Fistfuls of her hips filled callused, greedy hands. Such things were glorious to see and feel, and hear. Haleth arched her back, grabbing onto his arms, her hips undulating wildly every time he thrust.

Caranthir lets go of her hips. His hands glide up her belly, his palms soon filling with breasts. “Do you doubt your decision to stay?”

His thumbs trace and brush over rigid tips. Haleth smiles. It is both wanton and inviting. “No and never, my lord.”  

His smile is slow, hesitant. It then grows and mirrors her own. Caranthir closes his eyes, urging her to go faster. Haleth, on the other hand, keeps her eyes open. Spellbound, she feasts on each new expression dancing on his face, the trembling torso, and the sinful mouth that always parted when he moaned. It was for her. All of it was for her. It delighted her to no end.  

“I want you,” he breathed, his voice barely over a whisper. “I want only you.”

As she was his. Haleth makes this known. Her body hummed, grew taut, fanning the flames already coursing through her veins.

“I am close.”

“I am with you.”

Haleth pushed down, pushed hard, nearly collapsing over him even as she drowned beneath the fiery waves that rose to claim her. She could barely feel Caranthir holding her, keeping her steady, so lost was she in the all-consuming rapture that speared through her like a lance. She barely heard it, him moaning one final time as he emptied his spend inside her.

The air grew colder, and the wind slowly rose as a storm approached. The moon disappeared behind a wall of thick clouds. Haleth shivered, and found herself being lowered onto soft furs. More pelts, thicker this time, were pulled over her.

“I am glad you said yes.” Caranthir pressed his forehead against hers and stroked her cheek. “I am glad you decided to stay and be mine. I am not certain if I will be able to ever find the right words to tell you how pleased I am for all of it.”

Haleth opened her eyes. A wave of happiness washed over her. “Words are not necessary, Morifinwë.” A slow, gentle smile returned to her lips. “What you have just said is enough for me.”

It was the first of many glorious nights they shared together.

[kosmos-dan]

Walking through the city……. seeing Tolkien everywhere