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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 8 months

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"Mistress"

Pairing: Varda X Eönwë | Location: Ilmarin

Themes: Smut (Lemon/Graphic)

Word count: 1.5k words

Summary: Varda and Eönwë act out a proposition she puts to him after he admits to wanting her.

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

Eönwë could not move, no matter how much he wanted to. And he yearned to do so—to run his hands over her naked flesh and bask in the glory that was her.

That was not to be. Varda wanted him bound, hands and feet both, and he agreed. She wanted him to obey her in all things during the act, and he still agreed. His wings rustled, unleashing a riot of unbridled lust when Varda brushed her hands over silken feathers.

"So soft," Varda pondered in wonder. "And yet, strong enough to carry you through the highest clouds and the strongest of winds, taking you to places few others could go."

His wings were indeed soft and strong. And so sensitive that the smallest touch was enough to send waves of rapture crashing over him. Eönwë let out a lusty whine when Varda brushed her hands over his feathers a second time, then a third. Heat surged through him even as queenly fingers glided over the tops of vivid blue-green wings. Varda laughed, the sweet sound of it rippling across the chamber.

"Is my little herald unraveling already?" She teased, this time running her hands over his arms, his wrists, his fingers. Hardened muscles tremble beneath her palms.

Eönwë sighed, for he was indeed close to unraveling beneath her. Time had passed by in a blissful haze as he lay like this, bound and prone, his cock already sheathed in her warmth. Varda had taunted and toyed with him, strumming him like a harp, and there was nothing he could do in return, nothing to give her pleasure. His queen refused to move, no matter how much he pleaded for her to do so. It was agony of the most acute kind, to not be able to lose himself in her completely.

"I am, mistress." Eönwë writhed against the bed, sighing wistfully when Varda ghosted her hand over his cheek.

How the queen enjoyed being called mistress! Varda had heard countless titles and countless epithets from the lips of more supplicants than she could care to count, but the way Eönwë called her mistress, his voice dripping with profound veneration, appealed to her baser nature in a way the others could not. It roused her even more. She shifted just a little. The delicious friction that came with it was too much; it almost sent Eönwë over the edge. He writhed again and his length sank a little deeper, filling her even more. Varda moaned. She fought to regain her sense of control.

Not yet, she told herself. I must hold out a little longer.

"Poor little herald," she began, tilting her head and studying him keenly. She marveled at how glorious he looked when bathed in the starlight that streamed through wide, arched windows. Eönwë was fantasy made flesh, all lean muscle and luscious lips, and lustrous black hair. "Unable to touch me or even move, unable to do much but yield to my will. Tell me, do you wish for me to put an end to your misery?"

Eönwë groaned under his breath when her thumb drifted over his lower lip. "Yes, my mistress. Please. Oh, please, yes."

"Open!" Varda ordered with barely a second thought.

His lips parted at her command. Eönwë shivered when her thumb dipped into the warmth of his mouth and pressed down on his tongue. Elated, he brought his lips around it, gently sucking down on her finger, his eyes fixed on hers the entire time. Shimmering gray eyes now burned like they had been set ablaze, their light flickering like the stars themselves. Varda cried out despite herself, engulfed by the white-hot sparks that rushed through her in furious response.

"Clever little herald." She purred and drew back. "You are making me forget myself.”

Eönwë pouted. “While I be denied even more as punishment?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” A slow smile worked its way across her face, softening the regal air around her. “We must see.”

Her smile was now as radiant as her eyes. His breath hitched at the sight, for he found her to be even more glorious than before. Her hair dazzled, as if a thousand tiny stars were hidden within each strand. Her fana gleamed as if lit from within. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld, and he declared it so.

Varda laughed again and said, "I should say flattery would get you nowhere, sweet herald, but in this instance, I have decided to make an exception."

She rolled her hips, slowly and gently, delighting in how quickly Eönwë’s vivid eyes closed. Varda leaned forward and dipped her head, capturing his lips with hers. He moaned again, this time when her tongue brushed against his lips. The sharp sting of nails raking down his chest when his mouth opened beneath hers was barely felt.

"Mistress…" was all he could say. Varda kissed him even harder for it. His shudders and quickening gasps were intoxicating. It was all she had hoped for and more, ever since she first set her eyes on him many an age ago.

Had it been so long? Perhaps that was the case, but it did not feel that way. And Varda had her dreams to keep her occupied, the chief of them always filled with the Elder King’s herald. Such visions were haunted by the image of her having her way with him, never the other way around. Varda had even spent many a delightful moment pleasuring herself by thinking of him and how his strong arms and his beautiful wings would wrap around her. And when Eönwë finally mustered his courage and confessed the depths of his desire for her, Varda listened to him and put forth a proposition after he finished. She would gladly give all of herself to him, she had said, but her consent came with a condition. Just one. When he pressed, she went on to say she was his queen and was to be treated as such even while they were abed. She was to lead, not him. Ever the one in command, Eönwë’s curiosity had piqued at the notion of letting another command him.

"This is new to me, mistress," he replied after a moment's reflection, "but I accept your terms."

Varda had been well pleased with his reply. Now he was here, in her bed and beneath her and inside her, keening wantonly into her mouth.

Eönwë took a deep breath of air when she pulled away. His lips were bruised and swollen by the time she straightened herself and began riding him, her hand sliding over to curl around his throat.

"Yes?" Varda questioned.

"Please," Eönwë pleaded without shame. His hands gripped the silken ties that bound his wrists, his talon-nails digging into the soft fabric. A hand as soft as silk gripped his neck, guiding the very air he breathed. It tightened and released, leaving him lightheaded, weak, desperate to surrender. He opened his eyes, drinking in the sight of his queen heaving over him, her head thrown back, her hair swaying from side to side, her mouth parted in silent cries. All he could do was watch this bewitching scene, his toes curling when heat and tension pooled in his belly.

"More, mistress!" he cried. "There mistress! There! Oh —"

Varda brought herself down harder and faster, her grip around Eönwë’s throat tightening each time she sank down on his cock. Now she was filled with a craving to have his hands caressing her, gripping her, her hips, bringing her down even harder.

The next time, she tells herself. There is a soft rip. Eönwë nearly ripped into the wisps that bound him. She tuts, leans down, and clasps his hands. They are now pinned against the featherbed. Her fingers knit around his, her hair brushes over tingling skin. Eönwë moves and thrusts his hips, trying to match her rhythm for rhythm.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Varda releases him and rises again, her own fana vibrating, as if electrified. She touches herself. Eönwë watches, his eyes clouded with lust and greed. She sees it.

“If I give you the freedom to do so, will you ruin me?”

“In every way possible, mistress.”

It excites Varda even more. Now she is relentless, frantic, wanton. She shook, then drowned in the rapture that rose to consume her. Her fana still rose and fell, not stopping until she heard her name fill the air like a sob, and Eönwë emptied himself inside of her. She collapses against him, still pulsating from the aftershocks that gripped her. Eönwë sighs, satisfied and replete. He barely feels the weight of his queen. His wings rustle beneath him, then stop. He says not a word until Varda opens her eyes and rises to her knees. She smiles at him. He smiles back at her, his eyes mirroring the deep satisfaction he sees. What happened between them was more wondrous than anything he could have dreamed of, and he wondered, What else does his queen have in store for him?

"Stay like that a little longer," Varda gently insists. "Just a little longer, my sweet herald, and I will release you. I hunger to see how well you take me with nothing to hold you back.”

Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #Varda #eönwë #Varda x Eönwë #Eönwë smut #Varda smut #The silm #The silm smut #The silm imagine #Varda imagine #Eönwë imagine #💫whimsy's plot bunnies

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cilil · 9 months

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Freaky Friday~

Kinktober is upon us soon, so let's get some good vibes going!

Share a snippet/sneak peek from a freaky WIP or a project you recently worked on and tag your fellow smut connoisseurs to see what everyone's been up to. Enjoy the spice and happy creating!

He really shouldn't be here. This sight, this song of pleasure, this moment of intimacy, it was hers, not his; none of this had ever been his. Yet Ulmo couldn't tear his gaze away from what he saw. He had spent many nights dreaming, indulging in sinful fantasies inside his lonely chambers in Ulmonan, attempting to quench his ancient desire for his king. Manwë, lying underneath him, giving himself to him, letting him hold on to that small waist of his, moaning in pleasure as he penetrated him – it wasn't the first time Ulmo wished to be in Varda's place, and it wouldn't be the last.

No pressure tags: @melkors-defense-attorney @celebbun @hirazuki @mirkwood-hr-department @metztlilua @goschatewabn @i-did-not-mean-to @the-red-butterfly @the-girl-with-the-algebra-book @frosticenow @tragedybunny @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @ruiniel @fantasyinallforms @lordoftherazzles @welcomingdisaster @niennawept @queen-diamond-writer @scyllas-revenge @sunnyrosewritesstuff @imnotacleverman @junk-whunk-punk-artist @melkors-big-tits and all who would like to share something!

#tag game #freaky friday #wip #my wips #silm smut #manwe #ulmo #manwe x ulmo #ulmanwe #yes varda pegs manwe #and yes ulmo wants that ass too

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silmsmutweek · 8 months

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ROUND-UP: AINUR

All creations are Mature or Explicit unless marked as *sfw. Please see work tags for warnings.

Arien/Eönwë Day 6 by @maironite

Eönwë/Gothmog Intercrural sex and wings by @i-did-not-mean-to

Eönwë/Ilmarë/Manwë Day 4 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

Eönwë/Manwë/Varda Sublime Companionship by @cilil

Estë/Irmo Dream me awake by @cilil

Gothmog/Morgoth Day 1 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

Makar/Meássë Day 3 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

Manwë/Ulmo/Varda Sharing is Caring by @cilil

Morgoth/Sauron Dirty talk and lingerie by @i-did-not-mean-to Day 4/5 by @maironite A Dragon's Favourite Treasure by @cilil

Morgoth/Tulkas Forced Favours by cilil

Morgoth/Varda Incinerate by @cliffdivingsblog Art by @marimosalad

Ossë/Uinen Day 7 by @maironite

Uinen/Varda Day 7 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

#round-up #silmarillion smut #silm smut #ainur #valar #maiar #morgoth #sauron #manwe #varda #eonwe #arien #gothmog #ilmare #ulmo #tulkas #osse #uinen

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furious-haste-of-malice · 4 months

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❝ "Does my brother – your husband – know that you still desire me?"

"Unlike you, he is pure and good and so very agreeable. Unlike you, he knows when to obey." ❞

⊱ Prompt: BDSM, painal ⊱ Pairing: Varda x Melkor ⊱ Synopsis: After Melkor has been captured, Varda decides to try her hand at making him submit to his rightful queen - and doing it her own way. ⊱ Featuring: Eldritch Ainur, tentacles made of holy light, sadistic domme Varda, double/triple penetration (spicy bingo) ⊱ Warnings: Non-con, non-consensual BDSM, infidelity*, Varda's holy light hurts Melkor, the painal prompt in itself *I personally hc that Ainur couples tend to be quite liberal with physical love (as their bodies are just raiment to them), however Varda is doing this behind Manwë's back and he might not be ok with his wife assaulting his brother, so... make of it what you will, warning just to be safe.

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December that I'm still writing in February because yes. Enjoy~

It had pleased her to see him in chains.

And it pleased her even more to have him kneel in front of her.

Varda had ordered Melkor to be brought to her observatory within the highest tower of Ilmarin. Whether it was to settle an ancient dispute or it was merely pleasure she sought she herself couldn't tell, but what she knew for certain was that she finally had the arrogant Vala all to herself, away from the gaze of her sweet, all too kind husband.

Though, of course, said Vala wouldn't make it easy to teach him a lesson in humility.

Melkor looked up at her, a dark, triumphant grin twisting his fair features, and Varda swore to herself that she would wipe it off his face.

"So you wanted me all along, hm?"

"The only thing I could ever want of you is your complete and utter surrender and submission to my rule," she said coldly and gripped his jaw.

The searing heat of her hallowed hand elicited a sharp hiss of pain from the Dark Vala, and it was Varda's turn to smile.

Even so, Melkor remained defiant. "Does my brother – your husband – know that you still desire me?"

"Unlike you, he is pure and good and so very agreeable. Unlike you, he knows when to obey."

"True." His attempt at regaining his haughty smile was more akin to a beast baring its teeth, but Varda was undaunted; rather, she felt a surge of excitement.

One brother, already tame within her capable hands, and the other to be tamed by her, so that he might never challenge her or her subjects again.

Melkor took advantage of her pensive silence. "But you are wrong if you believe I will be your little pet like he is – as amusing as it would be to see you admitting how much you have wanted me this whole time. Really, Varda, the true Elder King and Eru's impostor? How greedy of you."

Without warning, Varda slapped him.

"You shall not insult me or my husband in my presence. And whether you will learn to submit or not, we shall see."

She could sense that it was slowly dawning on him how serious she was, and she wondered how Melkor would look if he was terrified, how he would sound if his mighty voice was reduced to a pleading whimper – something she quite enjoyed doing to Manwë.

Fascinated, Varda looked at the handprint she had left on the Dark Vala's cheek, then her own hand, still faintly glowing with furious starlight, and finally at his bound form. He was trapped in his flesh in more ways than one thanks to Angainor, and the sensation of pain seemed more acute and intimate than what she had observed with other Ainur.

Light, too, had served Melkor once, yet now its holy purity hurt him – retribution for his crimes – and it obeyed her command rather than his; and it was then that she knew exactly how she would teach him a lesson.

With an elegant flick of her wrist, Varda sent forth a wave of starfire that incinerated the tattered remains of his clothes, leaving him bare under her merciless gaze.

Fallen or not, he was still a sight to behold. Where Manwë's form spoke of lithe grace, Melkor's contained raw strength; where Manwë's hands were made for shaping clouds, holding quills to write his poetry and gentle touch, Melkor's carved valleys, broke mountains and accomplished many other evil deeds and feats of destruction.

Varda allowed herself to behold his naked fána a while longer, until she found her eyes once again lingering on the mark she had left, marring skin that was cool, smooth and pale like snow.

The temptation to touch him was great, but he was unworthy of such pleasure.

Instead she gripped the collar Tulkas had so kindly put around his neck and forced him down on all fours with his head bowed in supplication. Melkor attempted to fight back, but Angainor sapped his strength and her light threatened to blind and burn him once more, so he acquiesced, though most unwillingly; his pride, as always, remained strong.

Not for long, Varda promised herself, then asked aloud, "Will you be good for me?"

"You should know better than to ask," Melkor snapped.

"Very well." As far as she was concerned, his fate was sealed.

Light erupted from her chest, back and shoulders, swiftly coalescing into long, tendril-like limbs – reminiscent of Yavanna's vines or even the tentacles of Ulmo's sea creatures, Varda thought with idle amusement. One wrapped around Melkor's neck, others pressed down on the back of his head and his shoulder blades to keep him down, more reached for his legs, while she calmly walked out of his sight and stood behind him, eager to witness the punishment she would bestow on him for his wicked ways.

"You wouldn't," was all Melkor managed to say, though his voice shook just enough for Varda to know he was uncertain.

"It doesn't have to happen," she said. "Renounce your false claim to kingship, call me your queen and abjure your evil deeds. Otherwise... yes, I would, and I will."

"Never!"

Knowing that he couldn't see the delighted smile on her face, Varda allowed herself to indulge in her darkest impulses.

"I knew you would say that."

Hidden within the folds of her luxurious dress was, as always, a phial with water from her beloved wells that she now gleefully poured over his exposed backside, revelling in his vulnerability. The hallowed liquid was enough to make Melkor shiver in discomfort, and Varda knew full well it wouldn't provide sufficient lubrication either, but such was also not her intention.

She wanted to purify and cause pain.

And when she felt hot, tight flesh desperately clenching around one of her additional appendages and heard Melkor's scream within his ëala even before the sound tore through the air, she knew she had succeeded. Varda took her time pushing deeper and deeper, both curious to find the limits of his fána and aroused by the sight and sensation of penetrating the rebellious Vala that had caused her endless frustration. There was a certain pleasure to be found in breaking resistance, she noted, one that she couldn't derive from her sweet and docile husband.

To her own surprise, Varda felt laughter bubbling up inside her chest.

"You have your uses after all. Perhaps I was wrong to dismiss you as a lover," she taunted. "Though..."

Willing a smaller tendril to wrap around the base of Melkor's cock, she drank in the panicked cry that followed with haughty indifference.

"... make no mistake, this is not for pleasure."

Yet Varda was lying to him, and she knew it as soon as she said those words. While she wouldn't allow Melkor to enjoy any of this, she would very much take pleasure in it herself. His screams and sobs whenever her light came in contact with his unholy flesh and moved inside him were bliss to her ears, even with the discord tainting his once-beautiful voice, and the desire to touch herself became unbearable when a second appendage joined the first, painfully penetrating her now-subdued nemesis.

Varda slipped one hand under her dress to take care of herself – even serving her pleasure would be too high of an honour for Melkor – and waited. If necessary she would burn every inch of his skin and tear his hole open with more and more limbs of all shapes and sizes, but in the end she would have him begging for mercy.

No sooner than that would she grant it.

She commanded a third appendage to enter her helpless prisoner, stretching the delicate ring of muscle to its limit, and soon felt something wet staining her luminous limbs, droplets of black blood. The sharp scent of iron assaulted her senses, and Varda knew not whether to be disgusted or excited.

And for all his strength, Melkor was both captive and slave to his own flesh, and his will was swiftly eroded by blinding hot pain, causing him to break.

"Stop it, please – please! I..."

"Yes?" Varda stilled inside him, yet her fána was shuddering with pleasure. Her hand moved faster now, almost erratically.

She was close and so was he in a way, though they arrived at wholly different limits.

"Please... my queen..."

Melkor was in a pitiful state, Varda noticed even as lust clouded her mind. Crying, sobbing, nearly collapsing on the floor from the pain he was in; a prideful being reduced to beautiful submission. It was this thought, this raw feeling of triumph and dominance that pushed her over the edge, and she took her time basking in the warm glow of her orgasm before pulling out and letting go of his neck.

Black marks remained where her tendrils of light had restrained Melkor's fána and his hole was loose and raw as if he had been taken by the entire Valarin council. The mental image elicited a small chuckle from Varda; if he misbehaved again, she might consider doing exactly that and sharing him with the others.

Nienna, of course, would tell her to pity him and Manwë would ask for mercy on behalf of his brother, but she found that she quite enjoyed the view and felt no regret.

"You wanted me once and now you are whimpering and crying at my feet. Isn't this what you wanted? Does the light no longer please you, dear?”

Thanks for reading! ♡

#⊰✦⊱ non-con #melkor #morgoth #varda #varda elentari #elbereth #valar #ainur #silm smut #minors dni #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #tw noncon #cw noncon #dead dove do not eat #TPCdeaddovedecember

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cliffdivingsblog · 6 months

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Consume

Chapter 5 • 11k words • Rated E

A dark Melkor/Vards romance

The 🐉 chapter…

He is dramatic about it. Of course he is.

Stepping back from her and the water’s edge, letting his shadows engulf him, until all that remains are his eyes, burning at her with a dark, violent flame.

The shadows writhe and boil endlessly, solidifying into long limbs only to sunder again, a mesmerizing dance of his powers.

After a while Varda begins to feel impatient though, fighting the urge to ask him if he really knows what he is doing.

And then the shadows lift from one moment to the other, revealing his form to her. She draws closer in unabashed curiosity, a gasp leaving her lips, granting him the awe he so clearly wanted to incite in her.

The beast before her is gigantic. Its long limbs covered in gleaming red and black scales, that move with every deep breath it takes, its powerful body reminding her of the great predators roaming the wild forests and tundras of Middle-Earth. Coiled, ready to strike at any moment, its deadly claws sinking deep into the soft sand beneath them. Its triangular head is reptilian in nature though, long black horns rising from its temples, curling backwards towards its broad neck, a thick, even darker black mane covering its head between them.

She has seen Melkor in different forms before of course. But none that has fascinated her that much, none that made her heart race in such a wild mix of excitement and apprehension.

“You were right,” she says, voice a reverent whisper. “Beautiful and terrible.”

You can touch, if you want. His voice in her mind is full of smug satisfaction at her reaction.

The scales are not cool underneath her touch like she expected, no they are warm close to scalding, holding an inner fire that draws her closer still, her hand looking awfully small as she caresses the creature's flank.

“Keeping some secrets?” She asks with a laugh, suspecting there is a reason for the power she can feel smoldering underneath the surface.

You can try to find them out, he has curled around her, his huffing laugh sending a cloud of steam up from his nostrils, the warm gust sneaking underneath her cloak to dampen her naked skin causing a delighted shiver.

Her eyes wander to the leathery wings on his back as she wonders how they will look spread in flight.

“Do you think I could ride on your back?” The question is out before she can contemplate if this is wise. “While you fly?”

Do you want to? There is something unexpected in his tone now, something nearly coy. As if he is astonished himself how much she likes his little show.

“Yes.” Her answer falls from her lips in a breathless sigh, the thought of having all that strength and heat beneath her, between her legs, following her commands, sending an overwhelming thrill through her. He must have heard some of her eagerness in her tone, immediately offering her one clawed leg to climb up.

When she does, the brewing storm over the ocean breaks. Lightning striking down into the roiling waves, the growl of thunder in the air coming closer. Her face hardens as she settles down between the dragon’s shoulders, winding a thick strand of its mane around her hands.

None of their brethren is always aware of every occurrence in the elements aligned with their power. But she is not so foolish as to believe in coincidences. By now Oromë and Tulkas have no doubt informed Manwë about everything they have heard and seen.

And it seems her husband is not pleased. Too bad she does not care.

Perhaps not the wisest idea to fly into a storm, Melkor offers, a lilt to his voice.

“I am quite tired of being wise.” Varda leans forward, tugging on his mane impatiently. “Now, up! Or I will think you are incapable.”

Her insolence makes him spring into the air without warning, perhaps a not undeserved surprise, a little shriek escaping her as she has to use her powers to keep herself from tumbling off him. Her vicious cursing earns her an unapologetic laugh.

Really, my queen. I am shocked you know what even half of that means.

He is saved from a scathing retort only by the fact that she can’t catch her breath enough to speak, a wild scream on her lips, as he flies into a deep dive, the waves beneath them suddenly so close she thinks she could touch them.

This is both similar and so different from racing him in spirit form. There is the exhilarating thrill of flight yes, but now she has a body to revel in every sensation. The wind in her hair, the swooping sensation in her stomach, the tentalizing heat and friction between her naked thighs at his every move. It fills her until she feels she could burst with the immensity of it.

“What are you waiting for?” she asks when Melkor hesitates at the edge of the storm, lightning flashing down dangerously close. “Fly in.”

There is rain now, bitingly cold on her hair and her skin, soaking her in seconds. It does not dim her excitement, on the contrary she leans back her head to catch a few drops with her mouth. They explode on her tongue, icy and clear.

“Or are you afraid, oh mighty Lord of Darkness?” She calls out, when the dragon swerves to the side at the last moment one more time.

Are you challenging me? His tone hovers somewhere between amusement and annoyance.

Varda buries her face in the dark mane in front of her, her hands firm on those heated scales, his scent that somehow has not changed, all darkness and something enticingly spicy, all around her.

Always. She thinks back.

#varda x melkor #melkor x varda #melkor #varda x morgoth #varda elentari #silm smut #silm fic

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dirty-ainur-confessions · 1 year

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❪ ♡ ❫ ── 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂 , body worship

varda has a thing for body worship. it doesn't matter whether it is verbal or physical, she can never get enough of your body and how perfect you are beneath her, under her touch.

there are times where she lays you down on her grand bed, watching as your form twitches in her dark sheets. how you shyly avert your eyes from her line of vision that gazes over every inch of your nude figure. she adores how you shiver when her tender hands traces down your sides, caressing your chest or cupping your thighs. how pretty your skin looks smudged with her dark purple lipstick.

"you are gorgeous, my starlight,'' she gasps against your skin, smiling at your hushed whimpers in response to her kisses around your neck and her fingers attending to your heat. "so beautiful. . . so perfect. my marvellous star,'' she trails her lips down your skin, fascinated with the goosebumps on your flesh. none of her words fall short, no matter whether her lips press against scars, blemishes or birth marks. even when she has your back arching and your cunt greedily taking in her delicate fingers, her free hand strokes your side. crooning to you in such a soft voice.

"that's it. . . such a good girl. my beautiful little star.''

#·⊰ ꒰🌹꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐭 ៸៸ varda ─ ♡.#varda #varda x reader #varda elentari #tolkien #the silmarillion #silm #ainur #valar #smut #minors dni #imagines

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they-call-me-emmy · 6 months

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Poll bitches.

ignorsz tje garramar/wrotnign, its 4;30 am.

i habent slept in 3 daus

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #wednesday #wednsday addams #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday addams x you #vada cavell #vada cavell x you #vada cavell x reader

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theriverwild · 1 month

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That Which Lies Across the Sea

Ch. 59) Varda

Rating: E for some smut but mostly a contemplative chapter; WC: 8.7k

#twlats #trop fanfiction #trop fanfic #haladriel #saurondriel #galadriel x sauron #sauron x galadriel #galadriel x halbrand #halbrand x galadriel #fourth age fic #that which lies across the sea

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thrillofhope · 5 months

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2023 Year in Review - Fanfic

It's been a year. Here's everything I wrote in 2023.

Half of My Heart. Haladriel. Modern AU. Valentine's day. 4k. T

On the Twelfth Night. Haladriel. Modern AU. Christmas, hot priest Halbrand. 54k. E

No One's Here to Sleep. Haladriel. Gothic. 5k. M

When the Day Met the Night. Haladriel. AU. Victorian, serial killer. WIP. 12.5k. E

The Deadliest Weapon is Cold Feet and the Fire in His Eyes. Haladriel. Modern AU. Shameless smut. 5k. E

Into Darkness Fell His Star. Celreinion. Sad. 11.1k. T

Twelve Days Later. Haladriel. Modern AU. Road trip. Family fluff. WIP. 25k. E

This is the Winter of Our Youth. Celreinion. Modern AU. Grief, friends to lovers. 18.3k. E

In Good Company. Celrondgalad. Modern AU. Poly. 15k. E

The Lesser of Two Evils. Haladriel. Reluctant allies, 2nd Age. WIP. 86.8k. M

The Lost Temple of Taniquetil. Haladriel, Varda/Melkor. AU. The Mummy. WIP. 22k. M

Just Call This What it Is. Celreinion. Modern AU. Fake dating, political. 65.2k. E

In Words So Sweet. Celrond. Modern AU. Christmas. Friends to lovers. WIP. 23k. T

This Darkened Star. Sauron & Celebrían. Mind palace, Freudian nonsense. WIP(?) 3.2k. E

For a grand total of 351,373 words. Thanks to anyone who has read any of them and to everyone who has encouraged me to continue writing. It's been fun. More nonsense to come in 2024.

#fic writing #my fic

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 5 months

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Stars and Lilies

Rating: M

Pairing: Varda x Arwen

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Kissing | Dream sex | Oral sex

Word count: 999 words (Super Prompt #1)

Summary: Varda to comes Arwen once again in her dreams, and the pair engage in another night of enjoying each other's company in more ways than one.

Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume

It had started with a prayer for her brothers’ safety. Elladan and Elrohir rode with the Dúnedain more often than not, hunting orcs and wargs and far worse creatures, and she always wished for nothing more than their safe return. After she was finished with her prayer, she returned to her bedchamber to rest a while, blending living night and deep dream as she did so. Varda came to her then, having heard her appeals on her brothers’ behalf and being moved by her devotion.

Read the full fic on AO3:

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

#screw yule 2024 #screw yule #varda elentari #arwen #arwen undomiel #varda smut #arwen smut #varda x arwen #💫 a world of whimsy writes

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cilil · 8 months

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He should go, Ulmo knew. He should know better than to be curious, to desire to see what was happening, to quietly rise from the water to have a look. Yet temptation had taken hold the moment he heard Manwë, erasing all reason and rationality from his mind.

✦ ⁺ ‧ Day 4 ⁺ Ulmo x Manwë x Varda ✦ ⁺ ‧ Synopsis: Ulmo accidentally walks in on his king and queen. Fortunately for him, Varda feels like sharing. ✦ ⁺ ‧ Featuring/prompts: Threesome (MMF), D/s elements, pegging, voyeurism (both accidental and intentional), creampie ✦ ⁺ ‧ Warnings: None (except that it's smut) Also available on AO3

AN: Day 4 of @silmsmutweek coming right up with more Valar action. This one's for the Ulmanwe gang.

The sound of Manwë's mighty, beautiful voice echoed through the water, and Ulmo remained frozen as his element gently rippled and splashed around him.

His intentions had been entirely innocent and innocuous, all he had thought about was visiting his beloved king and friend to see if he was well. Never had Ulmo anticipated to see what he saw when he emerged from the pools of Ilmarin, bewitched by the pleasure and delight he perceived in Manwë's song.

The King of the Valar was sprawled out on a nearby divan, his glorious form completely naked, his wings resting on blue silk. His legs were spread wide, granting access to the most sacred, forbidden part of his fána, and between them knelt the luminous figure of Varda, his queen. Ulmo blushed when he saw the movement of her hips and realised that she was indeed *taking* him and drawing those lovely sounds from his lips.

His fána had barely reformed, and desire already held him in its maddening grasp. He should leave while he still could, before his accidental but no less treacherous intrusion was discovered. And perhaps Ulmo might have managed to slip back into the water undetected and make his way back to the oceans of Arda if Manwë hadn't arched his back and cried out in bliss just in this moment, spilling pearlescent liquid all over himself as his limbs and wings trembled from the force of his release.

Eru help me... Ulmo felt his own arousal all too clearly, aching with need, and no matter how often he told himself that he couldn't have what wasn't his, he couldn't look away, couldn't leave, couldn't forget.

Varda followed suit shortly after and pulled out, sitting still for a moment while she watched glittering liquid dripping out of her husband and onto the silken sheets below.

"Ulmo."

Her voice suddenly rang out, loud and clear, dragging Ulmo back to reality. Shame engulfed him immediately when he realised that his presence had been perceived, and he wanted to explain himself and apologise, but words eluded him.

Manwë remained where he was, still breathing heavily as he came down from his high, eyes closed. He appeared to be unbothered by the revelation that his dearest friend was in the room with them, almost eerily serene. Varda turned around to face the other Vala and, to Ulmo's surprise, she was smiling. The way she shifted to the side ever so slightly to let him stare directly at her husband, to let him see how thoroughly he had been fucked open and filled, seemed almost purposeful.

To Ulmo, it felt blasphemous to even think of his king in such a manner... and yet...

"I was wondering if you wish to join us. Or if you prefer to watch."

His thoughts hadn't remained as hidden from the Lady of Light as he would have liked, Ulmo realised, but even though shame weighed heavily on his ëala, desire stubbornly gnawed at him, still drawn to Manwë's prone form.

"You mean..." He didn't dare to say it out loud.

Varda nodded with a smile, then turned towards Manwë once more to lean over him, caressing his blushing cheeks.

"Do you want Ulmo to take you as well, darling? I think he would love to."

Shifting on his feet, Ulmo once again considered disappearing and hiding in the oceans of Arda for at least an entire age. He knew Varda must've seen how aroused he was, at the sight of her husband no less. Manwë rose slightly to look at him then, eyeing his tall, imposing form. It seemed as though the idea pleased him, and Ulmo noticed that his gaze came to rest on his treacherous erection.

"I would like that, yes."

"Good bird," Varda cooed and kissed him while pushing him back down. "Spread your legs more, my love. Let him see how pretty you are."

Not just pretty. Gorgeous, divine, perfect, Ulmo thought, but kept it to himself, still too shy to voice his desire. Nevertheless, he understood the queen's silent invitation and finally rose from the pool to make his way over to his beloved. It was too good to be true, watching Manwë offering himself to him like this, regal and docile at the same time, like a prized pet to be doted on and admired.

Varda made space for him when he approached, sitting down further away. "I will be watching for the time being," she declared.

"As you wish, my lady." Ulmo looked down at Manwë and ran his cool, wet hands down his flanks and thighs. All he had ever wanted, his to take; he wanted many things at once, penetrate him without further delay, to worship him, explore, touch...

"May I kiss you?" he asked, his deep voice trembling slightly.

"Of course," Manwë whispered. White eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he closed his eyes, and he raised his chin slightly to offer his lips.

Ulmo didn't need to be told twice. Like waves crashing on the shores of Aman, he was on top of him within a split second and kissed him, his lower body pressing against his exposed ass, causing cum to leak out of his hole and onto his cock. The sensation was maddening, he finally received a taste of what he had always desired, but it wasn't enough – and he didn't know if it would ever be, even after he was done enjoying Varda's gracious gift.

Manwë kissed him back with more urgency than expected, reaching for his strong arms to hold on to. Talons scraped against patches of scales, and Ulmo hoped he would leave marks, so that his fána could retain the memory of his beloved's touch. Maybe, just maybe the Lord of Winds had dreamed of this as well; yet the only thing that mattered was that he desired him now and that he would do his best to please him.

"Ulmo", Manwë breathed, now with increasing urgency, and tightened his grip. His talons threatened to slice through his rough skin, but Ulmo didn't flinch. He felt no pain in this moment, too great was his need.

"I want you..."

"I know. I do too."

Ulmo stroked his cheek with one hand.

"I need you. Inside." Manwë's gaze mirrored his own hunger. "Please."

Please.

The Vala he had desired for ages, begging him to fuck him. If he wasn't so utterly enraptured, he might have laughed; but instead, he lowered his head to claim his lips once more, whispering a quiet, reverent "Your wish is my command."

Ulmo had to hold himself back from thrusting his entire length inside of his lord immediately, trying to enter him slowly and carefully, yet Manwë wrapped his legs around his hips to draw him in, urging him to move. His fána took him eagerly, and Varda's essence eased his way, like a silent blessing of their union.

I love you, Ulmo wanted to say, but no words came out. The only sound that escaped from his parted lips was a low, guttural groan of satisfaction, and he buried his face in the crook of Manwë's neck as he began to thrust. His movements were passionate and powerful like the ocean he called home, and like the song he had woven within its waves, he wanted his beloved to feel his lust and longing for him, though it was a mere joining of their fánar, not their song. That privilege he would not be granted, but he could make Manwë feel what he felt with every single thrust.

It was marvellous to have the Elder King himself coming undone underneath him. Ulmo was tempted to rise to his full height so he could watch, but decided to remain where he was instead, closing his eyes, inhaling his scent. Even if he was a mere toy to satisfy his lord's and lady's desires, holding onto him like this felt like a lover's embrace.

There was no place on Arda he'd rather be.

And as deep, all-consuming satisfaction overcame him, Ulmo released inside his beloved, filling him with wave after wave of his seed. A selfish, possessive part of his mind rejoiced that his essence would mark him for a while, but he denied himself this final feeling of triumph. He was only doing it for his king's pleasure – and pleased Manwë was indeed, for the sensation of being filled so thoroughly pushed him over the edge as well, and more viscous liquid was spilled all over their fánar.

"Look how filthy you are." Varda, whose presence Ulmo had almost forgotten about, was petting her husband's head. "I am afraid you cannot be walking around like this – if you find yourself able to walk anytime soon, that is – but maybe Ulmo would be so kind and bathe you? As a reward for being so good for us?"

Ulmo nodded eagerly. He would love to hold Manwë for a while longer, touch him, feel him - and make sure he was alright. As powerful as he was, his fána would need to rest and recover.

Varda regarded her husband as he lay still in silent bliss, then looked up at Ulmo with a smirk.

"You can bend him over the edge of the pool if he gets needy again. He craves attention; but alas, there is yet another stellar nursery I must see to before I myself can indulge in peace."

"I shall take good care of him," Ulmo said, lowering his head respectfully. Seeing how content Manwë was and how nonchalantly Varda offered his company to him, he wondered if the two had been planning this, but he found that he didn't care either way. Perhaps he should, perhaps his age-old feelings were a curse he should've broken a long time ago; and still, he wanted nothing more than to have his beloved in his arms a while longer.

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

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taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams

#silmsmutweek #ulmo #manwe #manwë #varda #ulmanwe #ulmo x manwe #manwe x varda #valar #ainur #silm smut #minors dni #oneshot #silmarillion #silmarillion fic #cílil writes #my writing #there is no universe in which varda isn't regularly pegging manwe so hard he can't sit on his throne

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lamemaster · 6 months

Text

The Tale of Leren and Buthien

Pairing: Rog x GN Reader

Genre: Romance

Summary: The general makes dreams come to life with the play of ink and paper. The catch- the dreams are wet.

AN: No actual smut in a story about a smut writer this is what you call a true lazy ass. I am a proud woman. I mean look at this amazing title.

"What is it this time?" The hall full of elves buzzed with unfathomable tension. It wasn't a blinding gem, a delicate harp, or even a well-forged sword.

Instead, it was nothing more than a couple sheets of paper crudely sewn together.

"Oh my it comes with illustrations," an elleth fanned her flushing face as others around her peaked into the papers. "By Varda," another exclaimed breathing deeply but none looked away.

What was it that left the residents of Gondolin, millennia-old elves, gasping like teens undergoing puberty?

"It's the neighbor this time," someone added in an uncanny awe. "A peeking neighbor and a married couple who can't keep their hands off each other." Century-old elders in the room giggled childishly.

"The general never disappoints."

"The true pioneer of Edain must I say," everyone broke out into laughter.

All but one. Rog, the lord of the house of the warth of the hammer. As if glued to his seat, he sat with a tense back as the rest of the room cackled over the saucy novella.

Lord Rog had just been assigned his next assignment.

The general, the source of new weekly entertainment in Gondolin. You came with the host of Hurin and Huor. A warrior known for your might, you were respected, welcomed even by many. However, slighted by your appearance not once did the Gondolians expect you to carry another side with you.

Not until the first of your writings ended up in the hands of a flustered bookkeeper. A writing you proudly presented. Handwritten and bound by you.

Perhaps the bookkeeper had expected a mundane poem or war strategies, even something about the lives of Edain but never had the 658-year-old Ailya expected the raunchiest filth of a story of a night of pleasure shared between a king and their knight.

Let's just say that after a few years of peace and calm your story brought chaos to the streets of Gondolin. In the blink of an eye, every knight in the service possessed a copy of your creation. Even the whispers of your lewd tale were loud enough for the rest of the lords to find out. Some even gossiped about a copy in the king's office...

Surrounded by a babbling Glorfindel and an intrigued Penlod, Rog held it for the first time. Even as he wrapped his hands around the cool paper, written in the clean handwriting of an elven scribe, your original piece was an artifact at this point, Rog felt his fingers tremble with the weight of the mere sheets of paper that carried your words.

The general was an existence whose presence was announced by Ulmo, the Vala of water. Accompanied by Huor and Hurin came their close companion and the leader of their forces, you.

A mere human who challenged the wrath of his hammer with every breath of their existence.

"Did you hear Lord Rog moved his room?" someone whispered in the group huddled by the hearth.

"What? That's so random..."

Looking around they exchanged exasperated looks before continuing "You're as dense as him."

"What do you mean? We're not here decoding our Lord's every move."

The Vanya sighed trying not to beat up his clueless companion."Okay listen, the general wrote a piece about knights and the next day Lord Rog drilled all his knights until the general saw them, then the general wrote about a misfit rebel and the next day Lord was seen wearing an all-black armor with a very mannish braid. And now with the new neighbor piece, he moves into the room that faces the room general lives in."

The room fell silent. Everyone stared at the paper in their hands. Was their lord truly...with the general...

"Do you think our Lord would be able to keep up with the general...he might fade of pleasure," the dark-haired ellon groaned as a metal vase hit him square in the face.

Late at night when the stars in the sky dictate the sleep of men, Rog watches you write away hunched over your desk. A clear view from his window. Unhindered by curtains or your own trinkets lying around.

And when late at night your eyes accidentally seem to meet his, Rog finds himself flinching away from the smirk on your face before you go back to wreaking havoc on the paper.

A week later the streets of Gondolin fill with hustle and excitement. A new volume clutched in every hand.

However, this time around the whispers seem to be shuddering with a different energy. Thrumming with a pulsing tension carried in quivering lips.

To sate his curiosity, Lord of the House of the Wrath of Hammer grabs the volume.

Rushing back to his room, he allows his eyes to gloss over the title.

Hidden behind the curtain, you watch Rog glare holes into the volume clutched in his hands. A warm red settles on his cheeks as his ears twitch with his shaking pupil.

Perhaps the mannish retelling of the Lay of Lethian was not such a bad idea as Ailya had made it to be. Especially given the faces your elf was making reading it.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #noldor elves #silmarillion #rog x reader #rog #the general is the coolest fucking reader #this title is elite

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polutrope · 2 months

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Hi 😁 I would love to hear your DVD commentary for "Made For Her"!

"Maitimë’s body is the model of womanly beauty: she is all long curving lines, each joint blending seamlessly into the next; and where the lines break continuity — as at her fine collarbones, her proud cheekbones, the sharp line of her nose — these are as artfully placed cuts upon a gemstone.

Elsewhere her body swells — her breasts, her calves, her ass — and it is upon these features most eyes, following the cascade of her shining copper hair, linger.

Few venture to meet Maitimë’s bright grey eyes. She is told (and knows) she has the eyes of her father, twin white flames, and laughs when rumour comes to her that even the princes of Valmar who dwell at Varda’s feet are too afeard to look upon them long.

Maitimë does not mind. It tickles her, such admiration and awe, for no prince or lord will ever have her. “To none will the lofty heir of Curufinwë grant her love,” they murmur, and she plays the part they have given her.

There is only one, too close to be suspected, to whom she grants the enjoyment of her body. And when they move together in ecstasy, Macalaurë worships every part of her with hands and tongue and seafoam gaze. For her sister never shies from Maitimë’s eyes.

Macalaurë’s body is in every way unlike Maitimë’s. Small, wiry, slender and firm, sharp at the knees and hips and shoulders. Her breasts like little dewdrops with blushing pink nipples, the plush bump of her ass, are a secret she keeps behind loose robes, opaque and simply decorated. Her dark hair she seldom lets loose, preferring to knot it behind her head, out of the way of harp and quill. Macalaurë’s body is the instrument of her craft, and it is for her craft that Tirion loves Macalaurë. Nothing will ever surpass the beauty of her music, and so Macalaurë does not try.

But Maitimë finds her sister’s form no less lovely than her song."

How did you think of the premise, did it take you a long time to think of their female forms or did it come to you right away, how do you think they first started doing this, do you have other headcanons about this universe, do you relate to one or the other more, what's your writing process like, how did you get so wonderful at descriptions.... etc etc! Anything you want to tell me I am all ears!

[Made for Her, 1.5k, E]

Predictably, female Maglor came to me first. Maglor exudes gender fluidity to me. But contrary to human binaries, s/he's a bird of paradise. So as a male, he's showy, sumptuous, comfortable with his sexuality, proud (see: Played). So I thought: what if female Maglor moves the opposite direction? Deceptively drab, effortlessly elegant, discerning.

Maitime, Well-Formed One, followed naturally as Maglor's physical foil.

This waterfall smut scene did not take me long to imagine at all 😆. I love slippery sexy times in water, and I love elves in nature. The images came to me in a vision while I was in Shivasana in yoga class hahaha.

I have thought about the broader universe of f!Maemags, though not in much depth. I allude to it here:

They were warned, as girls, that too much of bodily pleasure wearies the spirit. Not theirs. In them the spirit of fire burns, and burns, and but for her sister would burn Maitimë up entirely. Macalaurë was made for her, of this she is certain. Made to tame the heat of her spirit, to match her flame for flame and then to douse her in her watery embrace.

The Feanorians are soooo incest-coded to me. The way Feanor isolates them from others, takes them on journeys to the 'border of the Dark', the liminal, the unknown. I think Maitime and Macalaure started fooling around early in their girlhoods, before they knew to feel any shame about it. It's a secret not because they are ashamed but because they are that possessive of their unusual love for each other. And secrecy is sexy.

I can imagine f!Maemags being even more codependent, more claustrophobic than m!Maemags. Especially in a patriarchy, where power structures set women apart, force them to find intimacy and community with each other, boundaries blur and dissolve more easily and sometimes uncomfortably. Which I imagine is how things go for f!Maemags in the First Age.

Thank you for your kind words on my descriptions. Descriptions were one of the things I was complimented on early on in my writing, so I seized on them as something to hone that wouldn't be painful.

They're not easy. Crafting a description I'm satisfied with is -- I imagine, because I don't do it -- much like trying to capture an image in paint or clay. The words are my paint, and I experiment with different strokes and colours: syntax, verbs, sounds. And then, with a sprinkling of magic, a sentence takes shape that makes me go, "Yes! That's it. That's the image/sound/taste/sensation." But until I get there I don't really know what it is. It's very satisfying. Similar to solving a math problem (not that I'm a mathematician, but I always loved that feeling of finding the solution). It feels like unlocking the codes to a little piece of the human condition.

So, uh. Anyway. Those are my thoughts on a little piece of p0rn.

Thank you so much for the ask, and for your readership!

#maemags #fic dvd commentary

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cliffdivingsblog · 8 months

Text

Consume

A Varda/Melkor romance

Chapter 3 • 11k words • Rated E

Using the @thehaladrielfancollective Kinktober Bingo prompts:

Blood play, Edge play, cuckholding, impact play, primal, hints of quirofilia and masochism (if you count him getting off on her nearly offing him)

She is sobbing when her lips find his, sobbing into his mouth, the salt of her tears as bitter between them as all their regrets, her fingernails boring into his shoulders, as she presses herself against him, desperate for closeness despite it all.

“I hate you,” she presses out somewhere in between the madness.

I hate that I want you. I hate that I need you. I hate that… I love you.

“I know,” he answers, voice as rough as hers, taking everything she unleashes on him without complaint. “Maker, I know.”

Her hands tremble as she pulls the robe off his shoulders, kissing frantically down the pale line of his throat, then down his chest, finding only hard flesh beneath.

He is as efficient in undressing her, her cloak on the floor in moments, the glittering bodice joining it the moment he figured out how to open the clasp on her nape.

And then she is lifted up and gently deposited on the bed, her whole body shivering in such overwhelming need for him she feels as if she is going to die if she can’t have him right now.

“I want all of it tonight.” Melkor’s voice is soft as he crawls on top of her, the gentle rasp of a lover’s confession, intimate, needy, his eyes endless dark pools that suck her in. “All of you.”

A beat of silence, heavy with three endless ages filled with loneliness and longing. And then … “Please.”

Varda can sense how much that one word costs him, how he struggles with it, barely able to let it escape into the quiet between their minds where only she will ever hear it; she cannot remember him begging anyone else for anything ever before.

And she wants it, too. Wants it, needs it, craves it. So much that the persistent ache of that need eclipses everything else. Her doubts, her fears, her regrets.

She knows she shouldn’t. By the One she knows she shouldn’t.

But there is no hesitation in her as she reaches out to bridge the gap between them, her hand against his neck, catching the wild cadence of his pulse, of his life, not able to resist the urge to drown in it.

“Then take it all.”

#varda elentari #melkor x varda #varda x melkor #varda x morgoth #silm fic #silm smut #kinktober #🖤✨#melkor #kinktober Bingo

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