Fanworks Tagged with Adult

He wants—oh, Fingon wants so many things. To flee the bathhouse, first and foremost. To meet Maedhros halfway, forget about the ruin they have made of each other—slowly, meticulously, over centuries—and kiss him until their lips are bruised and their lungs empty of breath. Wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, and perhaps wrap his hands around Maedhros’ throat, ask if he still prefer that Fingon kill him, bloody his own hands once more in ways that can never come off, if only it will bring Maedhros his much-sought salvation.

Fingon wants; ever has it been his greatest vice, that hunger that gnaws through him, makes him reckless, selfish, rapacious.

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Fingon merely needed a bath. Maedhros, as ever, complicates things.

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And Celegorm? Well, Celegorm simply wants a fight, wants revenge, wants to see his debts repaid. He wants to tear that godforsaken forest apart piece by piece, one step further on the inescapable road to their inevitable end.

He knows of monsters, after all. Knows how to speak their tongue, how to coax them along. His brothers, by then, are hardly any different.

Celegorm wants it all to end. He cares little, now, for how they will achieve such a thing.
 

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The Fëanorians, the Second Kinslaying, and how they all reached that point—an attempt to trace their fall from grace, from Valinor to Doriath.

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The fate of lovers has been sealed. After Aegnor pledges his love to Andreth, he seeks out council one last time from his wiser and more grounded eldest brother. However, his hopes that Finrod would join him in this newfound happiness are quickly dashed and it does not go well between the brothers. Finrod finds himself forced to navigate his ferocious and unhinged younger brother with extreme caution, plunging even his own safety into uncertainty. Aegnor finds himself faced with an agonising decition, one that will rip his entire being asunder. Yet hope may remain, and it rests in the palm of none other than Illuvatar himself who, through the sheer force of Aegnor's undying love for one mortal, takes notice. Bending the very stars in the heavens..

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Curufin has practiced the words in his head a thousand times, knows what needs to be said to begin to fix this. But what comes out of his mouth instead is, "I'm not sorry." Lie. "I'm not, and I'd do it all again the same way if necessary." Lie. "But I—" and he falters, still unable to push a single truth up his throat. In a way, Finrod is right, he hasn't changed at all.

Finrod is studying him with a resigned air draped about him like a cloak. "Oh, how I hate you," Finrod says softly, fingers loosely curled into fists, and this too sounds like a lie. Neither of them have ever been particularly truthful with each other.

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"Gather your strength, Daeron. I will get you to the Ford of Bruinen.”
“Will you swear it, kinslayer?” Daeron asked, voice heavy with irony and with something else Maglor couldn’t quite identify. 
He paused for a moment. Then he said, “Yes.” 

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Before the destruction of Gondolin, Glorfindel was forced to keep many parts of his life a secret. Much of this changed after his second coming to Middle Earth.

Featuring: Glorthelion, intersex!Glorfindel, mpreg, and queerplatonic Glorestor. 

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"You would be better off on your knees doing something useful with your mouth than using it to criticize me," Finarfin snaps, eyes hard as he watches Fëanor. "I have ruled Tirion far longer than you ever did. I do not want nor need your advice."

Fëanor stops pacing, raising an eyebrow and refusing to let his shock at the statement show. Of all the crass things he might have expected to come from Finarfin's mouth, that would never have been one of them. "Bold words," he says after a moment, tilting his head in consideration. "Whatever must the guards think of you saying such a thing to your own brother?"

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I made a project out of this year’s Silmsmutweek, to accompany the line of the Peredhel through the Ages.

1) Spring; prompts: ritual sex, bathing and washing. Melian and Elu beget their daughters.

2) Summer; prompts: sport and competition. Finally allowed to live their love makes Arwen and Aragorn light-headed with bliss. That, and a little too much wine for the newly crowned King of Gondor. (Not explicit)

3) Autumn; prompts: canon ships, blanket; my first drabble. On a chill afternoon in autumn, Celebrían finds her husband dozing, and finds that something has to be done about it (Not explicit)

4)Fading; prompts: water sports. Elwing can’t have what she wants, and Eärendil has to suffer for it. (He loves every moment of it, though)

5) Winter; prompts: throne sex. Dior has doubts whether he will ever see himself as the King of Doriath. Nimloth finds that it is time for him to truly claim the throne.

6) Stirring; prompts: erotic dance and acrobatics. Ficlet. Beren watches Lúthien dance, and feels life stir in him again. And other things.

7) Dark; prompts borrowed from another day: rare-pair. This one is weird. No more needs to be said

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“We are going to get caught,” Fingolfin hisses, though he makes no move to actually push Fëanor away from where he’s sucking a bruise onto Fingolfin’s collarbone. Fëanor hums, shoving a knee between Fingolfin’s legs and smirking against his skin when he’s forced to bite back a moan, hips jerking up.

“Do you want me to stop then?” he asks, voice rich with amusement as he kisses his way up Fingolfin’s neck. “Tell me,” he whispers, mouth hovering over Fingolfin’s. “Tell me you want me to stop.”

Fingolfin is genuinely worried they are going to get caught. It does not stop him from cursing quietly and kissing Fëanor to shut him up.

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Haleth is hungry

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Fingolfin wants Fëanor absolutely shattered in his bed, his name the only thing in Fëanor's mouth, in his thoughts. He wants to break Fëanor down to his most basic essence, a flame hiding in the body of an elf, and then slowly build him back up again as if feeding a fire on a windy night. Wants to make himself an integral part of the rebuilding so that he can never be erased, never be shoved out. He wants to be fully given what he was always denied—

—Fëanor’s trust. 

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The start of summer is a serious labour, yet Yavanna and her sister take great joy in it.

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“You do not have to do this,” Fëanáro murmurs, voice strangely gentle.

Ñolofinwë shrugs, feeling tired to his bones, and completely unwilling to leave Fëanáro's side. He slides the sponge over Fëanáro's shoulders, shifting Fëanáro's hair out of the way so he may run the sponge across the back of his brother's neck. "It is customary, is it not. For one to be prepared for their coronation by their family."

Fëanáro makes a strange noise, half-laughter, half-scoff. “I do not feel this is quite the manner my sons would have helped me prepare,” Fëanáro says dryly.

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As beautiful as he is dangerous, Aegnor, an elven prince, stands against the looming shadows of Angband. Brother to Galadriel, he commands the siege with a fierce intensity, a duty that exacts a heavy toll on him. Beneath the iron walls he has built lies a broken soul, haunted by a devastating trauma and a well of deeply guarded secrets. His demons, kept at bay by his unyielding intensity that is both his greatest gift and his biggest curse. 

Little does our Noldorin prince know that a chance encounter with a terrified young girl of men will set him on a collision course, igniting an extraordinary bond wrought with challenges, sacrifices, and intense love that threatens to unravel his guarded heart, and all he keeps within it.

Brace yourself for Part I of this captivating tale, where the primal power of love and devestating loss will tear lives apart forever.

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In the Year 1405, the Witch-King of Angmar begins his plan to conquer the northern kingdoms of Arthedain and Cardolan.  Rhudaur is mostly under his control but Dunadan Houses Melosse and Rhudainor stand in his way in the southeastern part of the failed kingdom.  He brings an Easterling mage, Ethacali to lead the effort to remove any resistance to his coming war.

Based on and inspired by the MERP RPG module of that name.  Image courtesy of the Dark Mage of Rhudaur RPG.

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The story of the first peredhel, fierce love, and how sometimes the laws of nature will let you think you defied them sucessfully before they catch up to you.

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If she's being honest, she's not yet quite sure why she's still a bit surprised that Caranthir has agreed to be here with her, just this once.

Caranthir, Haleth, and an early summer celebration.

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“If I did not know better,” he says in a low voice, patience frayed thin, “so close do you insist on being to me, that were you anyone else, I would think you are trying to seduce me.” 

Ñolofinwë blinks up at him, eyes hazy and unfocused and so very, very blue. “Would it work if I were?” Ñolofinwë asks in the tone of one who is trying very hard to focus.  

Fëanáro stares. Locks his jaw and does not allow his mouth to drop open in shock. "I know you are drunk, but do be serious, Ñolofinwë," he snaps after a tense moment of indecision on how to respond to such an absurd statement. "You cannot seduce those you share blood with, no matter how little it may be."

“Should not,” Ñolofinwë says promptly, one hand coming up to clutch at Fëanáro’s shirt. “You should not seduce kin. But it is possible if one wishes to.” 

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“Melian had but a moment’s warning ere her entire world was violently turned upside down. Maintaining the Girdle came naturally to her these days, without needing her conscious thought or effort. She kept away whoever had no business being in Doriath, shut out the voices and mental attacks that Mairon would hurl at her, hardly noticing that she was doing it at all.

This, however, was different. Very, very different.”

Or: how things might have gone had Morgoth run out of patience waiting for Doriath’s fall. 

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Three intrepid stellar explorers witness a crack in the edge of the universe and are guided by an ancient spirit animating an automaton to a strange and unexpected place where they hope to rescue their kidnapped cat. A cat who may hold the future--or its inevitable end--in his far-too-ancient paws.

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Order is his goal, something Morgoth only uses to create chaos later, but there is a sliver in Morgoth only Mairon sees.

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Two of Finwë's granddaughters spend a few nights together.

feat: genderbent maedhros

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Fingolfin and Maedhros both have particular needs. They find fellowship over this.

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Fingon makes a small request to Maedhros. She obliges.

featuring Trans Fingon and genderbent Maedhros.

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They marry in a field, years after leaving the halls.

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