#(but also he is a jerk more than rest of the Maiar)
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Silm Advent calendar 5: Sand
Warnings: fire (visual), typical Silm level of impled violence.
Turgon knelt on the sand, pondering Lord Ulmo's words.
He would resist Morgoth the longest... His memory went back to the happier times, when the Enemy—then hidden back behind politeness and fair looks—always had seemed to avoid him. Yes, of course the hope came from the West, all came from the West, but it felt good to be a weapon of this hope.
He would resist.
He left the beach, contemplating the armor he had to make and the city he would soon move to. His city. The mightiest, hidden, impenetrable. Beautiful.
Turgon sat on his throne, amazed by the young mortal's words which seemed as powerful as if said by one of the Valar. (They had been said, it didn't feel that long ago. But this was his home, and it was mighty, hidden, impenetrable and beautiful.)
He would block the secret door.
Yes, that should do it.
Turgon hid in his tower, staying behind like— there was only one king who would not come to the battlefield. Better not to think about him now.
The Noldor would surely win, the city was mighty and beautiful.
Turgon knelt on the sand again, in the shallow water. Gems covered the brilliant shore, but his robes were now simple. (How long has it been?). The waves tickled his chest.
"I am a fool. I was utterly stupid. And vain, cowardly, and somehow unable to understand the simplest instructions. I have gotten all the people who trusted me killed. Except the ones my daughter saved but not thanks to me. I was a fool."
The sea roared and water sprayed his face as he spoke and spoke, but there was no answer. So he spoke further, closing his eyes to stop the tears from coming.
"I refused to listen, to care about anything outside my tiny hiding hole and I thought I was safe, I was willing to abandon everyone else and yet— And you had told me all that. In detail. And yet. I—"
A mighty wave slammed into Turgon and enveloped him save only his face. "You were a fool. But you are my fool. I forgive you."
He opened his eyes and cried into Lord Ulmo's arm, tears mixing with the seawater. They embraced for long, until the tide changed and the sun rose, painting the beach in gold.
#silm advent calendar#thanks to who posted this idea of Turgon at the sea admitting he's an idiot#I'm sorry i don't remember well#anyway tags:#silm#silmarillion#tolkien legendarium#the silm#the silmarillion#turgon#gondolin#tw fire#the fall of gondolin#(also: osse rolling his eyes in the distance)#(not included in the fic but he would)#(he's kind of a jerk)#(not even has any grounds to be upset but)#(also he doesn't like the Noldor bc Alqualondë so...)#(yes he would roll his eyes and uinen would bonk him with a piece of coral or something)#(leave then alone dear let them have their moment)#(but. Alqualondë.)#(go help some numenoreans they're nicer than the Noldor)#(and now I got myself a bonus ficlet idea on the tags :( )#(poor osse :( )#(but also he is a jerk more than rest of the Maiar)#(and Uinen too tbh)#(drowning the Noldor despite clearly being forbidden)#(they need some bonk in the head)#silm shortfic#eri draws
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at first, i have one thing to say: MASTERPIECE
LILY, THIS ONE IS LITERALLY EVERYTHING TAKING ALL MY SANITY AWAY BECAUSE YOU WRITE SUB!SAURON SO FREAKING GOOD 🤍🤍
and i have so many thoughts:
Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.
i love the fact, that aulë courted her and that she was supposed to be with him
Aulë, however, was not who you were dreaming about
and denied him because of melkor
Whenever you would spend time with Varda dancing in the flower fields, you could feel Melkor creeping in the shadows and watching.
he really IS a creep
He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.
THESE LINES AHHH
Because, in the meantime, you were starting to realise with bitter clarity why you should have stayed away from Melkor, the Dark Lord, in the first place.
and how she should’ve stayed away 😭😭
You were a Vala and you could endure the worst treatment, therefore in your suffering he reshaped you in ways that would shatter even the mighty Maiar. Melkor forged you anew and twisted your already spoiled essence to his dark design.
MY GOD???
You were made for much bigger things than spending your whole lifetime resting in the sunlight and being followed by the forest animals like some of the Valar ladies were. No, you were aiming for greatness and the price for it was pain.
goosebumps, literally
When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you.
oh, to be that worshipped
Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless.
i think, someone would’ve suffer more than he already did
“My Lady,” he kneeled as he approached you and he kept his eyes low although you knew he dared to look up here and there, too tempted not to lay his gaze on you. “Please, grant me an audience,” he pleaded.
“I might crown myself the new Dark Lord, my Lady, but I would never consider myself to be above my Goddess,” he confessed and you smiled sadly as you approached him to grab him by his chin.
HOT HOT HOT DAMN
Your soft smile turned into a smirk when you let go of his chin and moved your hand to his ginger hair to caress it softly like he was your pet.
oh damn, you bad girl
“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.
“Serve me, Mairon,” you requested, wickedly. “Let my taste remain on your lips and might you never forget it while you build your kingdom in my name. I will come back to you then, my sweet, unless the Valar find and imprison me before,” you leaned in to caress his cheek with your finger gently.
“I shall fight them then. No matter how much it takes, I will release you and bind you to me instead,” he whispered.
oh, holy-
“Even as the greatest of your kind, you would still only be gifted with a mere shadow of my powers. We will never be equal, Mairon,” you reminded him and his eyes welled with even more tears at such a harsh reminder.
that must’ve hurt so bad 😭
“You’ve served me good, Mairon,” you grabbed his chin and smiled at him. “Good servant,” you emphasised.
He looked so pretty like this – both excited and turned on but also absolutely terrified of you. You could do everything to him and he had no other way but to accept it. And he knew – he knew very well – that you could be as cruel as Melkor if you only wanted to be.
A few pumps of your hand was enough to make him spill himself with a whine, bucking his hips into your hand as you kept jerking him off to make more and more of his seed spurt out.
AND ANOTHER ONE THAT LEFT ME TOTALLY BREATHLESS
But you knew already that you would be back for your sweet Mairon sooner than both of you expected.
i’m screaming, give it to me
oh my good lord, i’m speechless.
no, i mean really because i just loved it. and your writing, it gets me everytime. 🤍
i can’t wait to read the next part, can’t wait to see what you did with goo!sauron and our beloved halbrand
— HUMBLED (I)
PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Vala!Reader // Morgoth x fem!Vala!Reader
SUMMARY — Grown tired of living in your sister's shadow, you offered yourself to the one whom she had rejected once – Melkor. You regretted it quickly as he turned out to be a cruel lover and you became the very first subject of his twisted tortures meant to reshape one's spirit. In his eyes you were nothing by Varda's shadow but in the eyes of Mairon the Maia you have always been the only and the most holy goddess. When his master is gone, he can finally get close to you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — I had two ideas for Sauron with Morgoth's ex and honestly? I will probably write one more because I like the other idea a lot, too. This fic is quite dark because of the nature of Reader's relationship with Morgoth. Not gonna lie, it was a challenge to write a Reader who is a literal Goddess but Sauron himself inspired me to explore this dynamic when he seemed to be so proud of the fact that it was a God himself torturing him... 👀 The Reader in this fic is a Vala (and Varda's sister but she remains undescribed as well), so she changes her appearance like Sauron does but I am not describing any of her forms in any details. In the next part there will be some goo/blob!Sauron + Halbrand and in this part our favourite ginger loser makes his comeback! 🦊 Apparently, I can't write him as a dom... 😂 Well, surely not with someone who is so much above him. Huge thanks to @dinsbeskar once more because we were brainstorming about this idea together. ⭐ Special thanks to @olchr-1 as well! 💚 PS – I haven't described how Morgoth looks like either but I imagine him as a tall, black haired hottie like on the fanarts. 💀😂 There is also a slight mention of the Reader being originally promised to Aulë, which was inspired by the story of Hephaestus and Aphrodite.
WARNINGS — Reader is evil (reshaped by Morgoth but not completely evil), domestic abuse (with Morgoth), mentions of Sauron and Reader being tortured by Morgoth, SMUT, sub!Sauron
WORD COUNT — 4,330
🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
HUMBLED (I)
The very first thing you remembered was beholding your sister Varda being crowned one of the mightiest of the Valier and Queen of the Valar, Queen of the Stars, a beauty beyond the description of Men and Elves. So pure to reject Melkor and marry his brother Manwë instead – King of the Valar.
You followed your sister nearly everywhere, hoping to bask in her light but it never seemed to be enough to make you feel warm. You were greedy – at first, you were jealous of her husband and insisted on her spending more time with you than with him, striving for all of her affection. Once you realised that it was a lost cause, you began to detest Manwë.
You watched Varda situate the stars in the heavens above Arda as if they were jewels and you were the one setting them alight with the fire burning within you for they could lighten up the firmament. You were responsible for the treacherous element that the fire was – useful in many ways but also dangerous if not used correctly or with malicious intent.
Aulë The Smith began to court you as he watched you set the stars on fire. He was dreaming of how perfectly you two would go together if you were to fuel the fire inside his forge – the source of all his creation would come from you.
Everyone, including your sister, was encouraging you to become his wife for his heart was of a noble kind. Your own heart remained unsure but you wished to marry as well instead of only watching Varda and Manwë sharing a bond you could only dream of. Aulë, however, was not who you were dreaming about.
It was Melkor that you were drawn to; Manwë’s powerful brother, the very same whom your sister had rejected once and he had grown to resent her. You were observing him often because he fascinated you and you probably were the only one amongst the Valar who understood him. You were outcasts, both of you, but you were better at hiding it.
He was sometimes observing you as well, from the corner of his eye. You could feel his gaze on you and you knew that he had to feel the same way you did – he could see the malice inside of your heart for his was the same.
Whenever you would spend time with Varda dancing in the flower fields, you could feel Melkor creeping in the shadows and watching. Of course, he was there for your sister but still, some of his gazes were reserved for you only.
Therefore, on the eve of your wedding to Aulë, you forsake the light and seeked the shadow as you sneaked out of the palace you lived in and you found yourself knocking upon Melkor’s doors. There was no fear inside of you, only pure determination.
And you knew you could never replace your sister; your power was a mere shadow of hers. Yet, you offered yourself to Melkor on that night and he took you in, claimed you as his own and made you his bride. Before dawn, together, you fled from Arda for some time, leaving behind sorrow and dismay.
Your sister was most grieved by your betrayal. Alongside her, Aulë descended into a state of melancholy until Manwë mentioned to him the possibility of courting Yavanna instead and The Fruit-Giver became his wife – that union became one of harmony and love unlike the one you would have with The Smith.
You always fascinated Mairon the most – (Y/N), Mother of Flames, Aulë’s lost love. As his disciple, Mairon observed you humbly before and he knew his master’s heart enough to know that Aulë would always feel bitter towards you. Yavanna was his love match but she could not fuel the fire inside his forge and become the source of his creation.
What a source of inspiration you were for Mairon, though. The same way others worshipped Varda, Mairon worshipped you. Everytime he stared at the fire inside the forge, your image was all he could think of as the thought of you lingered in his mind constantly. You were long gone from Arda after eloping with Melkor but he hoped it was not yet over, that he would see you again. In the early days, when his spirit was still pure, he often fantasised about you being taken back by the Valar and forgiven by them, so he could build altars for you amongst the kins that would yet awake to inhabit Arda.
Some of his bolder daydreams were about another form of punishment for you – he would have you humbled in the name of redemption, bound to a lowly Maia. He meant himself, of course. He imagined the Mother of Flames becoming the source of his creation, fueling the fire within his forge and watching over his craft as his very own wife. He wondered how jealous Aulë would be then and how humiliated you would be, yet he was certain he could make you happy and fix the malice of your spirit with his undying love and endless devotion.
And perhaps that blasphemous dreams of Mairon the Maia, bold in their insolence, would be a kinder fate for both of you and the whole Arda. Because, in the meantime, you were starting to realise with bitter clarity why you should have stayed away from Melkor, the Dark Lord, in the first place.
In his greatness, he dwelt in solitude and his mind remained ungraspable for you. He would rarely let you inside to allow you to see the world the way he perceived it. Though he desired you, it was not as an equal, neither as companion nor as lover. And even in his desire, there was contempt, too, because as Varda’s sister you were a reminder of her rejection, which still lingered within your husband as a wound unhealed. And your beauty, your power, your holiness… They were nothing but pale echoes of your sister’s qualities; faint reflections of her no matter how hard you tried. And each one of your failures to meet Melkor’s towering expectations was met with your husband’s wrath.
None among his servants who would later know him as a cruel master ever dared to complain about his punishments in your presence because you were his first subject of torment, his earliest experiment in reshaping the will of another and they knew that you survived things they could barely think of. You were a Vala and you could endure the worst treatment, therefore in your suffering he reshaped you in ways that would shatter even the mighty Maiar. Melkor forged you anew and twisted your already spoiled essence to his dark design.
Alone in his presence you felt belittled and humbled. But by his side before others, you were exalted and invincible – cloaked in the might of his dominion – and that illusion of power became intoxicating. For allowing you to get sedated with such greatness was enough to worship him like he was Eru himself and out of all your offerings, he loved that devotion the most about you.
To be his wife was not easy – it was a torment and perhaps you were burdened with the most difficult fate out of all the Valar. Yet, it was what you had chosen willingly for yourself and you carried this responsibility with pride, trying not to think too much of the life you could have lived instead. You were made for much bigger things than spending your whole lifetime resting in the sunlight and being followed by the forest animals like some of the Valar ladies were. No, you were aiming for greatness and the price for it was pain.
When Mairon came to your husband’s service, you sensed immediately the amount of his worship and devotion towards you. You sometimes wondered if the Maia joined Melkor for him and his power or were you the real reason for his spirit’s betrayal. His devotion amused you but you offered him no kindness as his yearning for your favour was met with cold indifference. Even though he was desperate for more of it, he should know better and be grateful for your rejection. Because if Melkor would realise the true nature of Mairon’s feelings, he would not go easy on him and his wrath would be merciless.
Sometimes you wondered how it was possible that Melkor could not sense Mairon’s admiration for you. Perhaps he thought of it as something innocent – something expected from his servants to feel towards his Queen. Perhaps he thought of it as silly and pathetic, unworthy of his attention, because he knew you would never humiliate yourself to betray him for a servant.
Or perhaps your husband cared about you even less than you suspected.
After Melkor’s defeat, you were hiding inside your fortress in the North from the wrath of the Valar. Your husband’s absence was welcomed by you with relief but also a huge emptiness within your soul. You had been his companion for ages and to be left alone now felt oddly wrong. Many of the creatures of darkness expected you to take the leadership but you stepped away instead, wishing for a calmer and more peaceful time at least.
The power you had once craved now was something you dreaded. Your husband’s ways had drained you nearly completely, you were a shell of your old self. You wanted nothing but to crawl inside a hole and spend another eternity there, resting as a person unknown to the outside world.
Mairon was the one who took all the responsibilities upon his shoulders and while committing to his duties, he would always emphasise he was fulfilling them in your name. Forever a servant he would remain.
Now, without Melkor’s eyes observing him constantly, he gained more courage to bask in the remains of your corrupted light. You sensed his gaze on you wherever you would go.
Your wish, however, was to go much further away and Mairon knew about it, which was worrying him. He was trying his best – nearly desperately – to reunite your husband’s armies and dark creatures of the shadows, to become their leader and build a realm for you to rule over. To become worthy of you.
“My Lady,” he kneeled as he approached you and he kept his eyes low although you knew he dared to look up here and there, too tempted not to lay his gaze on you. “Please, grant me an audience,” he pleaded.
“You wish for an audience, Mairon? But is it not you preparing to get crowned very soon, my cunning spirit? Soon it shall be me asking for your audience,” you teased him and he looked up, his eyes filled with panic. Melkor would punish him for such schemes but you were not him and his influence was upon you no more.
“I might crown myself the new Dark Lord, my Lady, but I would never consider myself to be above my Goddess,” he confessed and you smiled sadly as you approached him to grab him by his chin.
He swallowed thickly out of fear but his eyes remained soft, filled with nothing but pure admiration. In Melkor’s eyes you had been Varda’s unworthy shadow. Perhaps no one had ever perceived you with such devotion as Mairon.
“I shall build you altars in my realm; in every village, every town, every city. And in the capital of my kingdom where I will reside, I shall build a temple where you can find your peace,” he breathed out. “Just, please, do not abandon me.”
Your soft smile turned into a smirk when you let go of his chin and moved your hand to his ginger hair to caress it softly like he was your pet.
“I must, Mairon. When you build your temple for me, though, then I might come back to reside there. But until then, we must part,” you insisted and walked away at the sight of his eyes getting wet.
“Will they ever follow me without you by my side?” He asked, unsurely.
“They will not. Not all of them. Can you not see that it is a cursed path, destined to become a failure, to follow Melkor’s steps?” You turned around to look at his face once more. “Run away with me, Mairon. Forsake this realm, forsake your schemes,” you proposed and he gasped, visibly contemplating his answer. But the sparkles faded away from his eyes very quickly.
“No,” he shook his head. “I must stay and heal Middle-earth. I cannot abandon its people because of my own selfish desire,” he resisted you as you chuckled at that.
“You are no god, then, Mairon. Gods do whatever they wish. Spirits like you were created to serve,” you teased, cruelly as you sat on your armchair and he moved uncomfortably, looking away, but he remained kneeling and humbled.
“Allow me to serve you then, Mother of Flames,” he dared to whisper, nearly inaudibly, his breath shaky and lips trembling.
You tilted your head, thinking about his words. You would leave this realm soon, perhaps forever. He surely deserved a little treat before your departure for all the worship and devotion he had been gifting you with. And you deserved to give in to desires of your flesh as well after all the treatment your husband had given you.
“Come to me,” you ordered, harshly. You watched him trying to stand up slowly but you quickly stopped him. “On your hands and knees,” you explained.
Mairon glanced up at you as if he could not believe the amount of humiliation you would put him through now. It was true that back in the day you had often contrasted with Melkor’s cruelty but now Melkor was no more and you had been taught the craft by the very master of it.
Perhaps his influence was still upon you and it would remain there forever.
You waited with an eyebrow raised and Marion gave up eventually, crawling on the floor towards you. He might have been humiliated and embarrassed but his eagerness was obvious in the way his eyes sparkled at the sight of your legs getting closer and closer to him. And when he was nearly in front of them, you opened them slightly as he gasped and looked up at you with admiration. He could not believe the access you had just given him while you smirked at his obedience.
“Serve me, Mairon,” you requested, wickedly. “Let my taste remain on your lips and might you never forget it while you build your kingdom in my name. I will come back to you then, my sweet, unless the Valar find and imprison me before,” you leaned in to caress his cheek with your finger gently.
“I shall fight them then. No matter how much it takes, I will release you and bind you to me instead,” he whispered.
“Bold of you, mighty Maia, to speak of such matters,” you let out a laugh. “Even as the greatest of your kind, you would still only be gifted with a mere shadow of my powers. We will never be equal, Mairon,” you reminded him and his eyes welled with even more tears at such a harsh reminder.
He cursed Eru himself for creating him as such a low spirit because this way he could never be worthy of you and to be able to walk by your side as your equal was all he had ever wanted.
“Let it be then… Anything to be close to you, my Lady,” he cooed. “Please, allow me to touch you,” he begged as he moved even closer to your legs.
“Proceed,” you nodded and watched him closely, observing his every movement, every gaze, which probably intimidated him even further but you could sense his desire to please you becoming too grand to care about anything else.
His hands wrapped around your ankles and moved up slowly, brushing your skin as the skirts of your dress pulled up, revealing your calves for him to admire. He had never seen them.
Well, perhaps he had. He had often sneaked up on you here and there and you had known about it but welcomed it with nothing but a chuckle as you had been pretending to be oblivious.
However, he had never been so close to them. To you. He crawled up even closer as he planted soft and devoted kisses to your exposed skin. You had never known kisses like these because Melkor had been mostly devouring you, tormenting you, using you.
Mairon sighed and you felt a shiver go down your spine at the feeling of his fingertips brushing the back of your knees. You slid lower on the armchair as your skirts pulled nearly all the way up, exposing your thighs to him. Your obedient servant gasped and looked up at you once more as if he was asking if that part of you was allowed for him, too.
“Have I told you to stop?” You challenged him and he nodded before burying his head between your soft thighs to kiss and lick them softly, breathing the sweet scent of your skin as if you were the holiness personified.
Wicked thought it was for you were the most corrupted and fallen out of the female Valar and yet you doubted any of them were worshipped with such eagerness as you were now.
“If we never left Valinor and I never followed Melkor,” you breathed out, caressing Mairon’s ginger hair and playing with the delicate strands of his hair between your fingers, “you would be my disciple and we would spend forever in the fields under the sun with you worshipping me, my sweet spirit,” you shared your fantasy with him and he whined at that as he moved his face further and deeper, his nose nudging your glistening cunt as he requested for your legs to open even wider.
“So impatient,” you pointed out and grabbed him by his throat to pull him away. You felt him swallow underneath your hand and then you forced him to look up by grabbing his chin. It was slightly wet already from your leaking cunt and you leaned in to give him a possessive, open-mouth kiss; to taste yourself on him as his eyes widened but he gave in immediately.
While granting him with a kiss he would never forget, you opened your legs further and further, giving him full access to the sweet nectar between your thighs and he whined into your mouth like a brat when he realised what you were doing. He laid his trembling hands on your thighs and moved the folds of your dress even further to the back, making sure your cunt was all exposed for him.
The cold air of the room caused your clit to twitch and swell before his thumb found it and brushed it. Now it was your time to moan into his mouth. You broke the kiss and pressed your forehead to his as you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in. Pleasure without pain was an experience brand new for your flesh and you had to steady yourself as he watched in awe.
“A-allow me…” Mairon pleaded and your eyes opened once more as you looked deep into his with a nod.
You laid back in the armchair and watched him with curiosity but also a hint of contempt to see a spirit so mighty humbled like this – perhaps you could understand Melkor more than you had ever expected to be able to but it was truly fascinating and pleasurable to humiliate other spirits.
To be able to kiss and lick your cunt, to devour it – it was surely a life-changing experience for your sweet Mairon. His usually calm demeanour changed in an instant, reminding you of a hungry hound as he whined and whimpered, lapping on your juices as if it was the sweetest nectar granting him immortality. He was intoxicated as his hands squeezed your thighs to keep them open and allow him to feast eagerly.
Your body of a goddess allowed you to go on without breaks; a peak after peak as you shivered and trembled, caressing his head and meeting his hazy, devoted gaze once in a while to let him know he was doing good. Your praise meant everything to him for all he had always known was your husband’s reprimands.
Your flesh could go on and on but your mind of a goddess was a demanding one and soon you grew simply bored of his ministrations, therefore you pushed his head away and crossed your legs, taking away the access from him.
Mairon’s face was flushed, his eyes foggy and skin glistening from sweat and your juices dripping down his chin. He was kneeling and looking up at you mindlessly as if he would follow your every order now, no matter how self-destructive it would be.
“You’ve served me good, Mairon,” you grabbed his chin and smiled at him. “Good servant,” you emphasised.
“P-please,” he whimpered and you furrowed your brow before realising what he begged you for.
His own release.
“Was not your kin created to serve mine? I do not think our creator blessed you with such desires, Mairon. Do not be a dirty liar,” you teased him.
“Please, my Lady,” he whined, desperately.
You sighed and rolled your eyes.
“Alright, then, let me see for myself,” you smirked and pushed him down onto the floor before getting out of your armchair and straddling him like a predator would trap her prey before sinking her teeth into him.
He looked so pretty like this – both excited and turned on but also absolutely terrified of you. You could do everything to him and he had no other way but to accept it. And he knew – he knew very well – that you could be as cruel as Melkor if you only wanted to be.
Melkor’s brutality had been driven by his own whim. Yours would be driven by your revenge for all the centuries of being treated like his dog. Beaten dogs tended to bite deadly and Mairon knew.
“Do not fear me, sweet Mairon. I only want to see for myself if it is true that you have fallen and corrupted yourself so much with your devotion towards me that you have been gifted with desires of the flesh,” you smirked. “Or cursed with them,” you pointed out as your hands worked on his robes and the trousers underneath them swiftly and quickly.
You gasped and laughed when you saw how hard he was already after all those hours he had spent between your legs. He blushed even further and his cheeks were crimson red now like his clothes.
“This must hurt,” you pointed out with a sinister chuckle. “Is it the first time for you?” You asked, brushing his thighs with your fingernails, making him shiver under your touch but refusing to actually pay any attention to his hard and reddened cock with its tip swollen and twitching, leaking precum.
“No,” he confessed, nearly inaudibly.
“Interesting,” you hummed to yourself and leaned in, your face so close to his that your noses brushed. “And what were you doing usually when it happened?”
“Nothing,” Mairon confessed, his face wincing out of shame. “Nothing, my Lady. I would never… I would never dare to…” He gasped after every word, so sweetly desperate and frustrated but not brave enough to ask you to do anything in particular. He would never order you around.
“Oh, my sweet, poor Mairon… You should have come to me each time and I would have helped you,” you grinned at him although you both knew it was not true. None of you would have ever dared to commit such an act behind Melkor’s back. “Do you want me to ease you now?” You asked.
“P-please…”
You reached towards his twitching cock and grabbed his wet length as you watched with cold fascination while he struggled and writhed underneath you. A few pumps of your hand was enough to make him spill himself with a whine, bucking his hips into your hand as you kept jerking him off to make more and more of his seed spurt out.
His body of a Maia did not need breaks but there was always a limit to how much seed any male flesh could produce. And when you felt he could absolutely do no more, you stopped and watched him catch his breath as you giggled, laying on top of him and intertwining your legs. One of your hands kept caressing his sore and softening cock gently as your other hand pulled his head closer to your chest, burying his face between your breasts and caressing his ginger hair strands.
“Please, do not go… I will be so lost without you,” Mairon looked up to meet your gaze and you smiled sadly at that.
“Do not start again,” you scolded him.
“Can you at least stay for the coronation?” He pleaded but you shook your head.
“No. I must leave tonight, as soon as possible,” you leaned in to kiss his forehead and a short while of silence occurred.
It surprised you greatly but some part of you began craving to take care of him now. As if the sinful act you had just performed with him, which stained you in a way – because what else would you call lowering yourself to pleasing a Maia? – as if it had forged an attachment between you two and bound you to him indeed like he had blasphemously suggested before.
You definitely had to leave and hide from the Valar, seek your own peace of mind. But you knew already that you would be back for your sweet Mairon sooner than both of you expected.
MASTERLIST
#AAAAA#i loved this idea since you mentioned it#can’t wait to read more#fic rec#mairon x reader#sauron x reader#the rings of power
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An Unexpected Adventure
The previous company was a little… unlucky, so I’ve decided to mess with it a bit. Added an extra character. Tried to make it a little better, a little more lucky to see if it helps the ending. Not to mention I completely took the timeline of Hobbiton and scrambled it, destroyed any semblance of the original characters and made them O.O.C. There will be death. Loss. Heartache. Oh also I hope to throw in some Thilbo if I decide to continue. Here’s the beginning draft.
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Belladonna sat on the little stone bench that rested in front of her smial. Her fingers curled around her pipe as she drew in a breath. Withdrawing the old wooden pipe from her mouth Belladonna blew out a series of smoke rings. The slight shuffle of wind blew the near perfect circles thinner and thinner until the rings disintegrated into the air.
“You know, Bungo m’dear,” Belladonna smiled at the rings, “Bilbo has yet to master the art of smoke rings.” She giggled at the memory of watching her young son practicing blowing the smoke from his pipe when he thought she wasn’t around. Oh he tried so hard. Practicing until he grew dizzy. He had thrown his little wooden pipe down and smacked his head against a tree, growling in frustration.
Puffing some more on her pipe, Bella gestured towards the small grave marker that lay on the other side of her. “He’ll get there one day. Just you wait n’see!”
Bungo was her beloved departed husband and the father of her child. He was the love of her life and at one point the center of her small world. With the birth of their son she had learned to transition her center to include the two of them. With the death Bungo her center became uneven. It felt like a carriage with only three wheels constantly tipping from one end to the other, unbalancing and nearly toppling over.
Closing her eyes , she raised her chin to soak in the sun. A small grin overtook her frown as she basked in the first real heat of spring. It was on days like this that Bella was able to imagine Bungo was with her, caressing her cheek like he used to do. She could even picture him sitting next to her laughing away at her story about Bilbo.
“Bella, my love,” He would say jovially. “Bilbo is half Took! Well of course he’d get it one day. You Tooks never did like not being able to do something. Especially once you’ve set your minds to it! Just wait an’ see he’ll be the best ring puffer this side of the shire!”
“Aye,” she whispered back to the imagined voice, “we’ve raised our son well.” Her smile turned sad. Tears stung at her eyes as she lowered her head in grief. And within those few seconds the sun no longer held the warmth of her departed husband. A chill crept through her body despite the heat of the spring air around her. Now her pipe lay forgotten in her hand as it rested on her knee. Bella screwed her eyes tighter together as her heart gave out a stuttered beat.
A choked sob broke through her lips. Unconsciously she turned her head away from his gravestone. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth blocking any more unwary sobs from coming through.
Three years since his death and yet the pain that consumed her made it feel like it was only that morning that he passed. She bit down hard on her knuckles as another surge of grief washed over her.
Honestly if she wasn’t a Took she would be ashamed of the blatant unrespectableness of her actions. By sweet Yavanna what would dear old Lobelia Sackville-Baggins think of her? At this Belladonna snorted. Just what would her favorite cousin think?
Here she was crying in her front yard for all of Hobbiton to see! No respectable Hobbit would dare shame themselves so. Oh undoubtly not! A Hobbit must always behave with the utmost level of respectableness while in the public’s eye. With their nose stuck high in the air and their clothes neatly primed and pressed. Definitely a respectable Hobbitess would not be sitting in her front yard in wrinkled dirt smeared trousers all the while crying and smoking a pipe. No siree!
Belladonna burst out in gleeful giggles. They started deep in her belly bubbling their way up her throat and passed her lips. She threw her golden topped head back joyously as her laughter consumed her.
Imagining Lobelia’s affronted face was always enough to send her into fits of giggles. Her body shook as she pictured Lobelia standing in front of her with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed out resembling themselves almost as if she were a duck. Her nose would crinkle in the most unbecoming way as her green eyes narrowed in disgust. It was the exact face she always wore when Belladonna, or even Bilbo, did something that was less than respectable.
A new image of Belladonna being an actual respectable Hobbit entered her mind. She was in a light spring dress, her golden locks curled gently to frame her face and pulled back into a neat bun, a freshly baked pie in one hand. While the other waved happily to invite, an imaginary, Lobelia inside for afternoon tea. No pipe or trousers in sight.
Bella flung herself backwards with the sheer force of her laughter. She slipped right off the stone bench to sprawl undignified into the grass below.
It was like this that Gandalf found her. With her legs wrapped up and over the bench while the rest of her body contorted in mirth on the dirt covered ground. Pipe ash flew from her pipe and dusted her face and torso as she waved it madly about. Mad Baggins indeed!
“Is everything alright?” The gray wizard questioned as he leaned upon his staff.
Bella peeked open on eye to stare at her old friend, “Quite well in fact my dear old friend.”
The wizard smiled down at the Hobbitess as he waited for her to right herself. After a few moments it became clear to him that she would not be making such a decision. Clearing his throat he said, “I wish to find someone in which to share in an adventure.”
“Oh?” Her response was lackluster in its reply. “Mayhaps you should go down the way and ask upon one Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.” The sheer thought of Lobelia venturing a mere step out of the Shire sent Belladonna into another laughing fit.
The gray robbed wizard frowned down at her, “What has happened to the Belladonna that used to jump at the opportunity to come along for an adventure?”
Belladonna stopped laughing at that. When she was a fauntling she had pleaded with Gandalf to leave the Shire and go see the rest of Arda. He took her on many adventures. As far as the Sea of Rhûn, to Gondor. Then one day he just never came back. A scowl twisted on her face as she sneered at the agely wizard. She could no longer tolerate the old man. One too many hopes and dreams were extinguished by the Maiar.
In one (less than graceful) move, Bella jerked to her feet and stormed towards her wooden door. As she marched away from the Maiar she caught sight of her husband’s grave from the corner of her eye. She stopped in front of her freshly painted green door with her hand outstretched for the doorknob.
She cocked her head towards Bungo’s final resting place. She felt the wind blow through her matted hair. It pulled at her clothes. It seemed to breathe new life into her veins.
In the few moments before she had reached her door she could have sworn she had heard Bungo’s voice once more, “Experience life again.”
Her heart beat erratically at the silent words. It made her skin flush and her body shake.
With wide eyes she turned towards Gandalf. He had both hands curled around his staff with his head gently resting on the side of them. He stared at her with a curious expression on his face, one that she could not name.
“Where…” Belladonna’s mouth felt fuzzy and dry. Licking her lips she tried again, “What exactly would be the adventure?”
Gandalf smirked at her question and said, “This way and that. To see Elves and Dwarves. Trees and mountains. Rivers and Gold.”
“Elves?” She mumbled to herself, “I’ve always wanted to see the Elves.”
“Will you be partaking then?”
“I,” she started. “I’m not saying that I will… but I’m not necessarily saying that I won’t.”
“I see.” The grey wizard spoke softly. He walked slowly towards her. His staff clinked on the cobbled walkway as he approached her. Gandalf raised his staff and scratched three runes upon Belladonna’s door.
Gasping in shock, Belladonna said, “I just had that painted last week!”
The wizard ignored her as he hobbled back towards the gate. Gandalf stopped himself half way, “Oh I had almost forgotten! The Company will be making an appearance for supper.” Pointing at the runes upon her door, he continued, “Those runes are a symbol to the company. It informs them of your interest to join in their company. If you wish to come, best pack your things and hurry. There is not much time to be delaying.”
As Belladonna watched the old wizard hobble down the path of Bagshot Row, she heard a voice again. This time she didn’t think it was Bungo’s. It felt like it came from deep within her heart. She could feel the word clawing its way out practically screaming to be heard.
Once out it came as a whisper.
“Go.”
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Dictionary of the weirder things I sometimes say.
Bingo of things that are common in my posts.
If something that I wrote contradicts the canon, and I seem not to be aware of it, I would prefer to be informed (politely) of this fact.
Post Masterlist below cut
Online tool to easily make character sorting polls and KMF-style polls.
Tolkien
The Great Reread
Proper-ish writing (Silm fanfics)
Ao3 in general
Steve the intern Maia / Ao3 - comedy, Mandos, Darkening
Amandil / Ao3 - sad/estel, fall of Numenor
Irrational / Ao3 - fluff + math + music + nature of Men, kidnap fam
Blood, red like fire / Ao3 - ominous, Feanor's mother, pregnancy
Finrod talks philosophy with other characters (Ao3 collection with all of them + maybe more):
The Problem With snakes - with Melkor, pre-Darkening, about Men
Of Death and Figs - with Feanor, in the Halls, somewhat creepy RL natural science, T-rated for insects
As boring as a spring - with Lúthien, in Doriath, the nature of art, premonitions
Athrabeth Finrod ah Ilmare - post-reembodiment. Astronomy.
War of Wrath, they shall name it - Manwë character study, somewhat sad/ Ao3
Silmarillion Advent Calendar 2024 (24 shortfics, somewhat related in vibe) / Ao3
A short where Finrod gets a Christmas sweater
…and a bunch of bredlik poems (now also on Ao3!)
Writing propmts / ideas / sketches
(yes, you can use those, credit me if you quote more or less directly)
Some original Maiar, feel free to use
Crack taken seriously the um… very personal edition? (includes fangirling and Blue Wizards)
Nerdanel could but would she? (I hate Feanor less now, ignore the tag a bit)
Synopsis of “how I would do Third Age Sauron redemption fic (second part of interconectednss. It starts with Saruman not being a jerk. It may end on the world ending. Or not.)
Very AU: Melkor ok, Aule and Yavanna bad but opposing each other.
So, you want to canonize Tauriel? Here’s how.
Maglor in Numenor (it ends better than you’d expect)
I’m not a shipper, but Aredhel
yeet the Ring into space (not a very original idea)
I don’t write real people fics, but
Nobilis/Silm: Feanorians
Consider: A “ghost of Feanor in LotR” fanfic, but instead of, say, Elrond, it is Gimli who can perceive the ghost. (Literally just this. Plus some tags and discussion below post.)
Rework of Beren and Luthien, keeping the early idea of "C&C are helpful", but compatible with the rest of the canon.
Long reblog chain (partially mine) ending with Maedhros with undead Fingon as his hand (lierally).
If Osse went evil
Feanorians should go to a theater
Celegorm humts in his dreams
underexplored topic of Celebrimbor-Annatar discussions: the Feanorian… well, the whole thing about them, Oath and Darkness and all that.
discussions of greek mythology/Silm exchange program (Morgoth for Hermes) (see all the reblogs, there are good ideas there!)
a lot of "what-ifs" about Feanor not doing one of the questionable things he did (for different ones) (below cut)
Morgoth&Sauron as Polish fairytale devils (I wish I could draw this)
Celegorm and his marriage plans
Musing, rambling, essays, headcanons
Masterlist 1 (themed: Ainur, Gift of Men, Feanor, language)
Masterlist 2 (misc)
(yes, you can use those too)
Funny
Badly made Morgoth on a cake
Spiders! Luthien! Also, Miriel! And more spiders! (source of this idea)
SmurFingolfin
cursed poll-haired Thranduil
Sauron goo in a jar
Morgoth as a red canary
Feanor in the Void ;)
gecko!Glaurung
Polls!
Finished polls masterlist 1 (themed polls: worst[x], fandom, dark lords, Feanorians, which Vala is a patron of [x])
2 (other polls)
Pictures Masterlist
Other
Cosmere (old posts)
Post-RoW predictions for Stormlight Archive (plus)
Ten spears go to battle
Nobilis (old posts)
Why I cannot play this game
You know you think too much about Nobilis when…
“wyrd” ws “weird”
numbers
What happens to instances of an Estate after a successful Flower Rite — some thoughts
You don’t FR a Mimic
Excrucian eyes : Deceivers
About Warmains
Warmains (feel free to use)
Deceivers (same)
Misc
grammar rant
another
first one
The words "prodigy" and "prodigal" are not related.
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Musing, rambling, essay, headcanons: masterlist
(I don’t subscribe to all, those are potential HCs) (yes, you can use those)
Of the Ainur
old Valar headcanon for personalities and looks part 2 (back in the time I didn’t even remember Nienna too well) part 3: Melkor (2022) (I had that book and now I lost it…. :( )
Varda and Ulmo comparison (2024)
Namo HC (the problem of free will - related) (2024)
Namo’s feelings HC (mostly outsourced to siblings) (2024)
Aule and Yavanna and they work on their relationship by making stuff (2024)
What were the Blue Wizards for? (less fangirling edition. Spoiler: Sauron.)
Loose images of “Valinor is getting old and fading”, had a second part but it’s not publicly posted (because of too intense incomprehensible fangirling)
On the origins of Olorin and some other Maiar (it involves Melkor)
Olorin as Feanor’s fan (includes previous HC)
re: asks on Namo
re: what's my thing with Melkor exactly? (complicated, tldr: he's cool but wrong and it's sad, also he's got issues) | more thoughts
maybe they just asked to go govern Arda?
Re: asks Voices: Melkor; the rest of the Valar (focused on the Great Music)
Give the other Feanturi some psychopomping too
Melian didn't abandon Doriath (partially canon, partially hc)
[canon-ish] it was Sauron who "lost" Maedhros as a prisoner (Morgoth was busy with Men)
Athrabeth, fangirling over the Gift of Men etc.
Whet is the Gift actually
Trying to explain what Men are for
East vs West (reclaiming the symbolics)
humans are to Legendarium as quantum mechanics is to physics.
Can "Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth" be canon? (no, unless we blame Pengolodh, as we often do)
"the darkness in his eyes" (it's probably half in this category but anyway)
Weird musings on the term "Everlasting Darkness"
Chromaticism!!! (Or: the dissonance wasn't the problem) p1
Of Feanor (&sons)
About how he came to be (involves Sauron) (old)
Another origin of Feanor (involves: the Valar don’t have a manual for Eruhini) (old)
Why does Melkor hate him more than any other Eruhini (2024)
Doom of the Noldor doesn’t work (this inspired Serindo the Intern)
Feanorians, Polish history and self-destruction (loose rambling)
“Thou” AKA Feanor being rude to everyone
How Maedhros pronounces his name
Let’s (for some reason) map the sons of Feanor to the Valar
Discussion about M&M stealing vs legally reclaiming the Silmarils, and related topics
re: Asks about Maglor and Maedhros
A bit more feels for Fëanáro
How he understood the “not the first one” remark.
The third Silmaril wouldn’t (maaaybe) burn them.
[crack lawyering] The Oath is cancelled
No, the weird wording of the Oath makes sense
So does the ship-burning (still wrong, but logical)
What did he mean by "Everlasting Darkness" (being a jerk edition)
But what about the Silmaril's rights?
How were the Silmarils made (the actual "technological" process)
About M&Ms discussion at the end (+ discussion on Melkor, his lies and various things in the reblogs) (re: to this earlier post)
A portrait from the days of bliss
Who gave them the idea of "all will be condemned to the Darkness if one breaks" (and yes, I think they did assume this)
Maglor + a Dwarf = Hobbits
The Feanorian heresy
Of language
Alliterative verse (the Oath, both versions, with marked alliterations). (Quenya, both in normal letters and Tengwar); early Feanor's speech alliterative; early Earendil poem alliterative;
“Anna” is a cool word
Quenya post-Third Age HC
Tengwar, it’s structure and names of the letters
Silme, sule, orthography and stuff
Boromir would be a perfectly legit Medieval Polish name
With edennill, trying to name the Silmarils (inspired by Silmarillion-ways-to-die)
Of Numenor
LotR movies should have less Isildur and more Ar-Pharazon
Making myself sad about Amandil and Pharazôn an all that 1 2
one good thing about Pharazôn's awful grandfather AKA Tar-Palantir's awful father
about Pharazôn's mother
Of other things - link
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