vulgarweed: (rain_by_aurora_starwing)
ha, forgot to post this one at all!

Fandoms: Sherlock/The Silmarillion
Rating: NC-17/Explicit
Pairing: Sérelókë/Iaun/Ossë
Tags/Content: Tentacles, Merman Sherlock, Shapeshifting, Ossë Has Tentacles Because He Wants To, Dubious Consentacles, Consentacles, Rough Sex, Competitive sex, Ainur Are Weird, BDSM, Dom/sub, Water Sex, Double Penetration, Possessive Sherlock, Interspecies, Threesome - M/M/M, Dom Sherlock, Demanding Power Bottom John, Song Battles, Bathing, Bondage, Power Exchange

Summary: Slightly spoiled by the safety of Menegroth, Iaun wanders far from the city and takes a swim in the River Sirion - and finds himself in the clutches of questionable Ossë, the Maia of water and storms who was seduced for a time by Melkor himself. Iaun is not pleased by his concern-trolling and kink-shaming about the nature of his relationship with Sérelókë. Sérelókë is even less pleased.

Insult is given; satisfaction is demanded.

In Storm He Delights at AO3

Part Three of the Their Terrible Sharpness series, which began with With Both Hands Thou Shalt Give It and continued with The Dark Fire Will Avail You.
vulgarweed: (rain_by_aurora_starwing)
This is one of the coolest fandom gifts I've ever received: Sunhawk loved that story so much she commissioned an artist, elfrightsactivist, to draw a scene from it, and the result is AMAZING!

Under the cut because it's big and spoilery (though, honestly, it's a Tolkien crossover fic, so I don't see how the possibility of [THING THAT HAPPENS] is really a surprise to anyone. It is fairly SFW (some strategically covered nudity), unlike the story itself (drawing the actual sex scene from this story would be . . . a specialized task I wouldn't want to impose on anyone. :D)


Of course it works best as an illustration for the story, so I've added it here.

vulgarweed: (rain_by_aurora_starwing)
Note this is a different one than the clip I posted to Tumblr earlier. My block on this just broke and I couldn't be happier.

Sérelókë and Iaun reach Menegroth at last - and have a surprisingly illustrious escort.


A great causeway of stone stretched out ahead of them, narrow and high-walled, at a dizzying span above the rushing river. Certhasath hesitated at first, until the Elven maid turned around and smiled at him, calling softly - between their thighs both Sérelókë and Iaun could feel the great horse relax at her urging and begin the crossing, trusting her utterly.

“Why does she allow us to pass so easily?” Iaun asked. “I expected a far greater trial.”

“There has been a trial already, Iaun,” Sérelókë said. “She looked within me and she saw my true form. Any attempt to deceive would have turned her against me, and I am not accustomed to be so clearly seen. Yet it could be no other way - Lúthien is very much her mother’s daughter, and her mother is well aware of our coming.”
vulgarweed: (rain_by_aurora_starwing)
I've been lax on posting the updates of this fic here - so sorry!

At AO3

Archive Warning:
Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Fandoms: Sherlock/The Silmarillion
Rating: NC-17/E
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson Sherlock/Gothmog
Content notes/warnings/enticements:
Shapeshifting, Kinslaying, More Shapeshifting Elemental Whip Magic, BDSM, Rope Bondage, Dubious Consent, Even More Dubious Tolkienian Theology, Crack, crackfic, Dom Sherlock, Sub Everybody Else, Dark Fuck Prince Running Loose in Middle-earth, Bang a Balrog (Get It On), Interspecies, Crossover, Canon-Typical Violence, Sensation Play, Temperature Play, Violent Sex, Voyeurism, Anal Sex, Painplay, Elemental Magic, Rough Sex, Stone Bondage, Impact Play, Rimming, Dubious Tolkienian Linguistic Discipline, Mild Cock & Ball Torture, Body Worship

Summary: "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed.” - Sherlock Holmes, The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle, Arthur Conan Doyle

Sequel to With Both Hands Thou Shalt Give It. After Melkor murdered Finwë and stole the Silmarils, fleeing to the lands across the sea, Fëanor, the Silmarils’ maker, led an army in hot pursuit to avenge his father and reclaim his treasure, swearing an oath that would doom them all. And the Fëanorians were followed by the eccentric, brilliant, and fearlessly kinky Maia detective called Sérelókë, who can always be trusted to stick his nose (and other parts) into the meat of any fascinating and dangerous crime. In Beleriand, he will find a rich playground for all his passions, and meet a companion who will change his life forever.

Chapter 1:Aftermath Prologue - The Tale of the Journey to the East

In a time and place of safety after the Battle Under the Stars (and the main events of this story) Sérelókë tells the tale of how he came to cross the sea to Beleriand. He will take his sweet time - he has a captive audience.

Chapter 2: Elen Sila Lumenn Omentielvo

A star shines on the hour of their meeting.

Chapter 3: I Am More Sweet Than Other Meat

There's only one way to deal with creatures like the residents of the Valley of Dreadful Death - insult them!

Chapter 4: The Battlefield Under the Stars

Iaun would not choose to be bystander to a great battle - but Fëanor's fall is terrifying. And Iaun's new friend Sérelókë is more terrifying still.

Chapter 5: Where There's a Whip, There's a Way

Sérelókë confronts Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs, before the very gates of Angband. And Iaun discovers something about his new companion - and something about himself as well. (Specifically, a raging voyeurism kink.)

Chapter 6: Study in Flesh and Spirit

Wary and slow to trust he may be, but Iaun finds himself quick and reckless in desire - which is not at all the same thing. (An Elf is not quite so dangerous to seduce as a Balrog, but there is patience and artistry required in doing it properly.)

Chapter 7: Come Through Woe to Bliss

Iaun likes a lot of woe with his bliss, and even Sérelókë finds him quite a handful. Handfuls, even.

(this is the chapter that's just 8100 words of Sérelókë/Iaun BDSM - as only they can do it. Or would want to.)
vulgarweed: (ringbybleu-unicorn)
For both Polyshipping Day and Halloween, I bring you

a 1,000-word PWP written entirely in rhyming couplets.

Sauron and Thuringwethil are summoned to their Master's throne to serve His pleasure - and they're not sure they'll survive it. Mind the warnings.

Smoothly now she changed her shape,
Sharp teeth upon her master’s nape,
“My lord, my Thu, what’s your command,
Kiss of my mouth, stroke of my hand,
My leathern wings, my silken thighs,
I’ll give my all to feel thee rise.”

She pricked his neck; he let her feed
It cost him nothing just to bleed,
Angband’s lieutenant, Sauron bright
Said, “Lady, we have a call tonight,
He’ll have us both before His throne,
He’ll have all our pleasures known.”

The Lay of Nasquë (Bondage) at AO3.

Clearly my case of Tolkien damage is highly advanced and irreversible. I found this a lot easier to write than one might think.
vulgarweed: (the game by isaac_of_nine)
Iaun stood still and silent, and gave but one terse nod. “Have you some power of sight?”

“Observation,” the stranger said. “You are Elven, but not Noldor, not Vanyar, and only tenuously Teleri. Clearly Moriquendi, you’ve never been to Valinor. Your green raiment marks you as one who has often dwelt in the forest, but you are not quite so . . . feral . . .as some, so I deduce that you are one of the people of Lenwë, who heeded the summons of Oromë at first but later turned aside down the Anduin. You adjust your body weight as one who has worn armor in the past but now does not, preferring stealth in what you see as your maimed and weakened condition. You have a steel sword, well-made if plain and simple, and it is not of Noldorin make - oh no, it definitely wouldn’t be - so clearly you have had contact with at least someone who has had at some time had contact with the Naugrim, most likely by way of Doriath. You know how to use it, but the callouses on your hands and the way you carry yourself tell me that you are more confident with your bow and arrows - or at least you were before you sustained a wound to your shoulder that did not heal as completely as it should. Therefore, you were wounded in battle with the cruelest of enemies, who prevented you from access to immediate healing, most likely by taking you prisoner for a time. Though you have your own skill in healing - I can tell that by the scent of the herbs in that pouch you keep close to your chest - you were not able to bring it to bear enough to repair the damage fully. It must have been the battle where Lenwë’s son Denethor fell, was it not? You were taken by surprise while trying to help a comrade. You have a strong moral principle, but you are wary and slow to trust. Oh, and you are small of stature among your people, and you hoped to compensate for that in deeds of renown. You are motivated to take risks, and you are drawn to dangerous situations.”


Once I get back into the groove of it, Sérelókë is every bit as fun to write as his London counterpart. Maybe even more so.
vulgarweed: (elen-sila_by_pegkerr)
Beleriand, before the rising of the Sun and Moon:

And in the forest, an uneasy place in the best of times, Iaun was brought up short by a sound. Creeping slowly as he had long known how to do - yet hindered by the sinews of shoulder and thigh that no longer flexed as seamlessly as they once had - Iaun crept forward beneath the cover of the great ferns, one hand on his walking stick and the other on the hilt of his sword. Hoping that his silence would hold, and he could keep the advantage of surprise should this person turn out to be hostile.

An Elf he seemed, like Iaun himself, and yet clearly of a different clan; he had the rich robes and dark hair and grey eyes of the Noldor, and a haughtiness in his bearing beyond even the greatest of them. Iaun was resolved then to slink away, and let this strange one never lay eyes upon him if it could be helped, for surely no good would come of it.

And it was to no avail, for Iaun stepped upon a branch that cracked beneath his feet as if Yavanna herself had betrayed him; and a star shone upon his location as if even Elbereth herself wished him seen. The gaze of the lank stranger landed upon him, and Iaun found himself beguiled by the gleam of the sea in his eyes. The Enemy could deceive with fairness for a time, and yet Iaun felt that he was not in danger, not presently - naked and exposed as he felt beneath that stare.

“You have been in Angband, I perceive,” the stranger said.
vulgarweed: (rain_by_aurora_starwing)
“Oh, my dear Iaun Hossion, it is dangerous,” Sérelókë said with delight to his Elven companion, and the green-grey gleam of his eyes was fey in the distant light of the flickering flames. “Very dangerous. Much I know of their kind that is not known in this land. There was a little problem I solved some time ago - two Teleri brothers found pierced to the heart in a foundered ship, with no sign that anyone else had been there at all.”

Iaun felt this was hardly the time to share reminiscence, as the drumbeat of the giant’s steps came closer. Yet Sérelókë also was a flame, and one that held the eye and stayed the hand.

“And it was?”

“A Second Kinslaying, not such a widely-told tale as the first,” Sérelókë said with a grim little smile. “Brother slew brother. They did for each other in an argument over whether Balrogs have wings at all.”

“And do they?”

“That is why it’s so very dangerous here,” Sérelókë said with glee. “They have them, yes - but only during their mating season.”


Oh yes, he's coming back!

(HUGE thanks once again to the Tolkien nonnies at f_fa for naming help, in Sindarin this time. "Sanctuary" + "son of the army.")

In keeping with the crack-fic genre where this series started, I feel I should warn that the working title of this file is "Bang a Balrog (Get It On)" (I always feel it should fit the tune of the T. Rex classic, although it doesn't really.)
vulgarweed: (OK by london_fan)
Fandoms: Sherlock (TV) / The Silmarillion and Other Histories of Middle-earth, J.R.R. Tolkien - works
Rating: Explicit
Pairing Type: Het
Word count: 6,757
Pairing: Sherlock/Ungoliant
Other Characters appearing: Yavanna, Manwë, Tulkas, Thorondor
Challenge/Collection: Category 5 Sex Hurricane Fest
Tags: Casefic, Murder Mystery, Interrogation, Bestiality, BDSM, Interspecies, Crossover, Giant Spider Sex, Yes I Went There, Bondage, Whipping, Xenosex, Shapeshifting, Top Sherlock, Sex Between Semi-Consenting Spiders, Oral Sex, You'd Call it Vaginal Sex If She Had a Vagina Which Technically She Doesn't, Spot the Pratchett Quote, Dub-con By Deception, Did I Mention Bestiality, Also Toplock If I Didn’t Mention That, Dom Sherlock, You Can’t Say I Didn’t Warn You

For the Category 5 Sex Hurricane Fest

Summary: Of all the residents of Valinor, the eccentric and disreputable Maia called Sérelókë would be the last person you’d expect a Valië to call upon in time of need. But Sérelókë is known for his observation and insights, and Yavanna Kementári will stop at nothing to learn the truth of who killed her beloved Trees, and why. Once set upon the trail, Sérelókë will also stop at nothing.

Really. I mean nothing.

And while I can’t take credit or blame for the original idea . . . oh wait, yes I can. I claimed my own prompt.

Notes:This story is not meant to reflect or imply any endorsement by the author of any acts depicted herein. Everything Sérelókë does is dirty, bad, wrong, and dangerous, and I just want to make sure you know I know that. If you, the reader, happen to be struggling with an issue related to the presence of a baleful evil from the Void in the form of a monstrous spider that devours light and vomits darkness, do not attempt to sexually dominate it.

I tried to find some survivors’ resources to link to, but I couldn’t. This might be because there aren’t any survivors.


This story was gang-beta’d and loved every second of it. Huge thanks to Marta, BlushingNewb, Winter_of_our_Discontent and Jinglebell for the careful and discerning eyes (eight eyes!) that helped this terrible fic become the best terrible it can be. Since I am an actual arachnophobe in real life, Winter found spider sex articles and vetted them for me to make sure the pictures weren’t too gross, and Jinglebell, who it turns out used to breed spiders, blessed me with a much better vocabulary for the Explicit parts - and inspired me to make it even dirtier.

With Both Hands Thou Shalt Give It, at AO3

spoilery end notes )

My earlier posts about my, ahem, creative process are all now unfriendslocked. this one sheds some light on my motive.
vulgarweed: (ringbybleu-unicorn)
Darkness Alone Is Worshipful

Fandom: The Silmarillion
Pairing: Annatar (Sauron)/Ar-Pharazôn
Rating: Explicit
Prompts: gold, smoke, rise

I struggled with this one, and now it feels like it wants to grow into something longer.

Previously by me on Porn Battle:

Genetic Markers
(Sherlock; Sherlock Holmes/Mary Watson/John Watson, marriage, sharing, baby, arrangement, co-parents, hormones, polyamory, together, forever)

Polar Vortex
(The Dresden Files; Harry Dresden/Thomas Raith, trust, safety, illicit, lick, beautiful, wanted)

Start Me Up
(Sherlock; Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper/John Watson, sex fantasies, forbidden)

Goldengrove Unleaving
(The Hobbit; Galadriel/Gandalf, golden, morning, understanding, flaws)

September 2017

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