#Halbrand smut

[prettyshinnythings]

The Offering.

Story Idea: What if Sauron had been successful? What if he'd taken all of Middle Earth and obtained everything he ever desired? What if he still desired something more?

Warnings: Implied future smut. Arranged marriages. Slight torture (main character is injured).

Chapter One:

The iron shackles around my wrists were so heavy I felt as though I would collapse to the ground beneath me. It is all I can think of as I keep my eyes forward, my breathing heavy, and my body stiff as a board. The shackles grip into my skin as the man before me pulls the chains he holds in his grasp. He does not need to say a word, the gesture is enough for me to know what he asks of me. 

Keep moving.

My eyes cast down to the floor below me. The dark stone of the castle entrance hallway is beautiful and strong, a reflection of the castle’s master, Sauron. 

He had succeeded in taking over all of Middle Earth. His order and his reign of terror kept every living thing strictly under his thumb. The men, elves, and dwarves of Middle Earth bent to his whim. All across the land, no one could defeat the Maia who once lived in Morgoth’s shadow. He now surpassed his former master, a full eclipse of power no one dared to rival. My village of crescent elves, elves who were one with the stars, was directly outside the castle in Mordor. My people had constant dealings with Sauron, but I did not know what to make of the deal they wished to use me for. 

An Offering. 

My body for his pleasure. 

My Village wished to maintain the peace he had offered them in his rise to power. 

An elven princess of the celestial elves. Elves that were never royalty, but an eclectic village. The virgin daughter of our leader, untouched and unmarked by another. The perfect offering for a dark lord. Or at least that is what they thought. I did not know what Sauron would make of me. If he would accept the offering or be offended by it. All I could do was continue moving forward, wrists bound, body in a sheer black dress that would reveal every curve to the ruler of Middle Earth. All of me had been dressed up to be a pleasing presentation. My eyes remain on the stone beneath my feet, ignoring the eyes of the Uruks that line the entrance hall on either side of the walls. They stood, posted between the flickering torches on the walls. Crude remarks fall from their lips. The ugly and dark words of Black Speech are harsh to my elven ears. The man leading the way stops us at the end of the hallway, right in front of the doors of what I assumed to be the throne room. 

He speaks low to the Uruk posted at the door. Words that are unworthy of trying to hear. It is only when I hear the creaking doors open before me that I dare to look up from the floor beneath me. I force myself to look forward, my face serious whilst I am dragged forward. The shackles dig into my wrists, causing a pain that sets my teeth on edge. But even still, I try not to let the pain reflect upon my face. 

The torches and the candle-lit chandelier light up the throne room. An almost comforting and warm light shone over every inch of the beautiful room. Here, there was no hint of the evil that had been done to acquire such a wealthy looking home. There was no blood, no darkness, and no terror that I tended to associate with Sauron. Instead, I felt peace and comfort in his home. It was as if I had been created by the Valar themselves. 

My eyes take in the room around me until they settle upon the throne directly before me. The throne where he sits. My breathing hitches at the sight of the dark lord before me. Despite his cool exterior and devious gaze, he is beautiful. His long blonde hair was sleek beneath the crown upon his head. The very same crown that had once been his former master’s. 

I cannot look away from his beauty and he knows it. I can tell by the slight smirk that plays on the corner of his lips. A quiet contemplation passed over his face while silence hung between the two of us. I feel a shiver move up my spine when he stands from his throne before stepping towards the stairs. He travels down each step at a tantalizing pace, eyes never leaving mine. Each movement he makes is calculated and drawn out for his amusement. For he knows how terrified I am at this moment, under his gaze with my hands bound in shackles. The nameless man who had paraded me in here like a dog on a leash shifts nervously beside me. He doesn't like that Sauron has moved closer to us any more than I do. No matter how beautiful he may appear, I knew his reputation preceded him. He reaches the end of the stairs far quicker than I would've liked and when he does, his gaze moves from me to my shackled wrists. His brow furrows for a moment when he sees how bloodied and bruised they'd become in my journey from my village to his castle. 

His lips purse into a look of frustration as his eyes dart from my arms to the man still holding the other end of my chains. 

"I thought I had told you not to damage her."

The nameless man's face falters at Sauron's words. He looks down at the mess he had made of my wrists. His lips part and he feigns innocence before his master even though I know that I had begged him most of the journey here to stop tugging on the shackles. I had begged through pain and tears but my words only fell on deaf ears. It was only now that he cared that the cargo had arrived damaged. The nameless man's voice attempts to escape him but when the faintest sound of words falls from his lips, he is silenced. 

In one swift moment Sauron's right hand flicks from left to right and when he does this the man's neck snaps. His lifeless body falls to the floor mere seconds later and I am too stunned to move. Even though I am fully aware that my eyes widen and water at the sight. Elves cared for all living things, even the ones who weren't kind. The choice to kill was always a last resort not the first. 

"You need not be frightened little one. I shall not harm you." 

Sauron's voice is so gentle and cautious as I pull my gaze from the body on the floor to the man I had been delivered to. His face is as innocent as he can make it, his long blonde hair framing his fair form in a way that made him look as gentle as he sounded. To anyone else, he would look like a God come to life, but I could see the darkness that tugged at the corner of his eyes. A dark mischief that seemed eager to corrupt anyone willing to give themselves over to him. 

"What shall you do my king?"

I whimper the words when he takes a calculated step forward, his hands up in defense as if that would make him seem harmless to me. His hands reach for mine once he closes the gap between the two of us. Out of air he conjures the key to the shackles, sliding the key into the keyhole. For a moment I fantasize about running the second I am free, but I know better. My village offered me up to him like a pig for slaughter. Out of sheer desperation and hope for goodwill from their dark King. If I ran it would mean certain death for my village and for myself. Something I couldn't risk. 

A faint chuckle brushes passed his lips when I think this. It is only then that I remembered that Sauron could see into my mind. A talent he had used to his advantage countless times if the history of his success was to be believed. So he knew as well as I that I could not run from this. He was my destiny even if I did not want to admit it. 

He frees both hands in quiet haste, dropping the heavy and oppressive metal shackles to the ground in carelessness. As if they weighed nothing in his grasp. I expected him to let go of my hands once he's freed them, but he does not. Instead, his hands lightly trace the bloodied state of my wrists. His touch is so light that I do not flinch away from him. Instead, my eyes watch his hands in silence unable to focus on anything else. 

"You have been offered up to me as a wife. As a way to forge goodwill between myself and the people, I rule over. As a way to strengthen my power and my claim in this world. I shall do whatever I please with you." 

The entire time that he speaks it is barely above a whisper, his voice continues to be gentle and the mischief in his eyes only seems to grow the longer he looks upon my face. His words should concern me, but there is a tenderness within them that I find oddly peaceful. 

"Are you displeased with your offering my king? Do you accept me or shall I be another body dead at your feet?"

I do not sound as confident as my wording, but my candor amuses my dark king. Another chuckle escapes him while his hands travel from my wrists to my arms, pulling my body in against his once he's cleared the painful bruising on my wrists. His touch is firm yet cautious once my chest is flush against him. He peers down at me, his figure towering over mine. 

"I am very pleased. Do not worry your pretty little mind. I will have you at my feet but not as a corpse. No, I intend to fuck that pretty mouth of yours while you kneel at my feet. While you submit yourself to your husband as all good wives do." 

My breathing hitches at the words, but I feel my stomach flip with intrigue and horror all at once. I had remained untouched by another, for the very purpose of keeping my virtue for my husband to take. I had never had words with a man, much less the experience to do as he asked of me. Sauron's smirk grows when he sees how flustered I have become in the wake of his words. 

"Do not worry my dear wife. We shall start small and work our way up to that point. Do not fret, I will take good care of you." 

I do not doubt that he could take care of me. Surely he had countless maidens in his time. Plenty of practice easing someone into whatever dark and twisted perversions he would expose me to. His amusement remains evident on his face while he studies me closely. One hand holds me against him, firmly in my place, while the other grasps my chin for a better viewing of my face. 

"When will we be wed?"

I ask, my voice shaking as his lips near mine. I want his lips to brush against mine, I want to feel him and the hunger that was suddenly bubbling within me. 

"Are you eager to be fucked little one? Do you hunger for me the same way I do for you? We do not have to be wed to do what our bodies desire. I am the King, there are no rules that can touch us."

I wish I could say that I was not hungry for him. I wish I could say that I did not find his vulgar words deeply enticing, but I did and all I wanted was him and he could sense it. Not even a day in his grasp and I was starting to betray my values for his dark desires. I was hopeless and I shuttered to think of what else would become of me if I stayed here forever. 

"Morals?" 

He whispers as he reads my mind. His head dips down so his forehead can rest against mine, his lips so close I can almost feel them. 

"I- I- I am sorry my King. It is not that I do not want you. I do, but I am already going to give you everything. Can I, at least, keep this tiny piece of myself for now? Just until we are wed and then I will never ask for anything else."

Sauron stands silently before me, body unmoving while he ponders my request. There is a part of me that wonders what he will say. If I have upset him or if he cares about my wants at all. For all I know he could do whatever he wanted with me and I would have no say in the matter. He could retaliate in some way for my nerve to question him. These are all the things that I worry about while we remain in each other's embrace. My mind races in anticipation, but every dark worry that crosses my mind fades into nothing the moment he places his lips against mine. 

His lips are tender, cautious, and careful as he kisses me with the deep passion of a longtime lover. My hands are on his chest in an instant, tugging at the fabric, desperate to feel his skin beneath my fingertips. But he doesn't let me get far before taking my hands in his to still my actions. Instead, he deepens the kiss and slowly explores my lips with his. His tongue meets mine and we move together like two pieces that were always meant to go together. I can feel my heartbeat quickening and my body is suddenly quick to forget the values I had previously professed. But he does not forget and the second a whimpered moan brushes past my lips, he pulls away from me. 

His lips, slightly swollen, smirking down at me. As though he is satisfied with himself. 

"We will be wed on the morrow little one. Until then you will be led up to my bed chambers. Well, I suppose they will be our chambers come tomorrow. Go take a bath and rest. After tomorrow, rest will be harder to come by."

He gives me a wink before peering behind me to whoever is going to lead me to his room. When I look at the mystery person I am met by an elf. Nameless as the man before him had been. This elf is graceful and beautiful, but he wears a chain around his neck and through his beauty, there is a darkness that should never befall an elf. It is only then that I remembered that the man I had been kissing, the man I was to marry, was the reason for such darkness. 

And I could not help but realize that same darkness would come for me too.

Let me know if you would like me to keep going with this story!

[notreallythatlost]

AT YOUR FEET

➴ halbrand/sauron x female!elf!reader

summary: you are an elf, cast out by your people thousands of years ago. now you are sauron’s lover and he promised to give you what you want most: revenge and the satisfaction of all your desires.

warnings: 18+, mdni, unprotected sex, p in v, fingering, knife play, sex on the floor, slight biting, reader is on sauron’s side, a little fluff in the end

word count: 1.8k

author‘s note: well… here i am writing about sauron again. i’m so obsessed with him and i know y’all are too. 🤭 i hope you enjoy reading as much as i enjoy writing about him. and thank you all for the support, it means so much to me. you are amazing, never forget that. xx

The forge was almost completely dark when you entered. Only the flickering embers in one of the furnaces provided light, which fell on the man who stood with his back to you.

“I knew I would find you here,” you said with a gentle smile, which made him turn to you.

“What are you doing here? Is Galadriel sending you to convince me to accompany you?” he asked, looking at you with an impenetrable gaze.

You couldn’t help but grin and shake your head slightly. “You should know by now that I don't let myself get ordered around. Especially not by someone like Galadriel.”

Halbrand raised his eyebrow, but smiled when he catched you in his arms as you ran towards him.

Your arms wrapped around his neck and you looked up at him. “I know you want to see Númenor fall, my love. But let's go back to Middle Earth. You've waited so long for this moment, why not take the chance?” you asked, but Halbrand silenced you by putting his index finger on your lips. Your eyes met his and it was as if your insides were bursting into flames.

“I'm going back to Middle Earth. And then what?” he asked quietly and pushed you back until your back hit the wall while he looked you deeply in the eyes.

You held his gaze and stroked slowly over his chest with one hand.

“You, my Dark Lord, will bring your enemies to their knees. Right where they belong,” you breathed as he came closer to you and you could already feel his warm breath on your lips.

“Keep talking...” he whispered and you had to smile again, pushing him back a little.

“You will let them feel your power and all of Middle Earth will be at your feet. To worship their king, the true king of-“

Your words were drowned out by a kiss as Halbrand pressed his lips greedily to yours. It was as if he was starving and your lips were the only thing capable of keeping him alive while he devoured you.

His breathing was heavy as he pulled away from you slightly. “Not quite,” his words were only a breath, a soft touch against your already swollen lips and he pushed your hair behind your shoulder with one hand.

“They will be at your feet, my love.”

With that, he kissed you again and pressed you against the wall with the weight of his body. His hands grasped your face, held you in place while his tongue pushed into your mouth. A low moan escaped you and you were ready to surrender to him right here, but he seemed to have other plans for you.

His hands slid down your body, long fingers finding the hem of your dress. As soon as he grabbed the soft cotton, he pushed it up, revealing your bare thighs to the warm air of the forge.

The heat between your legs was almost unbearable and you longed for his touch — so much that you thought you were going to lose your mind.

Halbrand seemed to enjoy the torture he did to you, because he pulled away from your lips and watched as your head fell back the closer he got to your throbbing center.

You were just about to raise your head when he slipped a finger through your folds, causing a breathless moan to escape from you. He didn't make a game of it, because not a second later two of his fingers slipped inside of you.

The intensity of this touch made your knees go weak and you sank down slightly, but Halbrand held you tight. “And I thought I should be the one kneeling in front of you,” he commented with a wicked smile and began to move his fingers.

Your hands dug into the fabric of his clothes and your head fell forward against his shoulder. It felt so good and yet it wasn't enough. You wanted, no, you needed more.

He seemed to sense it too, because he withdrew his fingers from you again. They glistened with your juices in the light of the fire and Halbrand brought them to your lips. “Be a good girl and open your mouth,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and you obeyed him.

Your lips closed around his fingers and you whimpered softly at the taste of yourself on your tongue. You sucked on his fingers, as your gazes were locked but he didn't wait long before removing his fingers from you again. His hands quickly grabbed under your thighs and lifted you up in one fluid movement.

You immediately wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands buried in his hair desperately. “You will get your revenge. And I will watch with joy as you rise from the ashes. As my queen,” his voice was so deep by now that every single one of his words let your insides clench around nothing, desperate to finally feel him inside of you.

Halbrand carries you away from the wall and to one of the tables where he sets your feet down on the floor again. His hands left your body, grabbing one of the daggers which layed on the table next to you. “And then I will be the one who lies at your feet...” With these words, he tears the thin fabric of the dress apart with the dagger, exposing your naked chest.

Your breathing was heavy as you looked up at him, but he didn’t look away from you. As if you were more beautiful than anything he had ever seen in his long life.

He placed the blade on your collarbone and ran it over your skin. He looked deep into your eyes as he moved the dagger further down. It caused goosebumps to spread across your body and you bite your lower lip to suppress the moan.

His gaze dropped to your breasts and he let the blade slide over your stiff nipple. Your breath caught and you felt like you were suffocating, you wanted him so much.

“Sauron,” you whispered his name and finally, his gaze met yours again. There was a hunger in his eyes, the same hunger that raged deep inside you. The knife slid down your torso before he put it back on the table. Softly his hands cupped your face and he kissed you again. With such passion that you moaned into his mouth.

Together you sank to your knees, kissing until he gently pushed your shoulder back so that you had to lie down on the floor.

Halbrand leaned over you slowly and stroked his hand over your cheek and neck until he finally reaches your breasts. His thumb touched your nipple and you arched yourself against him.

The touch elicited a longing moan from you and you saw a smile creeping onto Halbrand's face. “Let me feel everything of you,” you whispered with a broken voice, too desperate to keep it steady.

“Well, I could never deny you this wish, my queen,” he answered as he started to free himself. He was so big, so perfect, and the sight of him made your mouth water everytime.

Your fingers close around the hem of your dress, which you slowly pulled up and revealed yourself to him. Halbrand settled between your legs and let the tip of his cock slide over your entrance slowly, even torturing. A taste of what was about to come.

With a single movement of his hips, he thrusted his full length into you and put his hand over your mouth to muffle your scream.

“Shhh,” he breathed in your ear and began to move his hips slowly. “As much as I want to hear your beautiful little screams for me, you don't want anyone to catch us, don’t you?,” he continued, releasing his hand from you again.

But you couldn’t help but moan when he hit a sensitive spot inside you and you wrapped your legs around him to feel him even deeper.

He took it as a sign and started to speed up. His hands wandered up your body, catching your head as it fell to the side.

“Look at me,” he gasped as he moved his hips forward again. It was hard to do what he said because he filled you so perfectly, hitting a spot inside you that made you see stars. You felt like you were floating, lost in the feeling of endless desire.

Halbrand found grasp in your hair and buried his fingers in the soft strands. He pulled your head back, gaining access to your neck. He kissed, bit and sucked on the thin skin there until you writhed beneath him.

“Please,” you moaned and trembled as the orgasm slowly builds up inside you. You couldn’t think of anything else except the desire to finally find release and Halbrand could feel it.

“Easy, love,” he breathed against your skin. His fingers dug into your hips, so tightly that you knew it would leave marks.

And you knew that later he would tenderly caress these marks, because they were the sign of your lovemaking — that you belonged to him, even though nobody else could see it.

He pushed himself into you again, this time even harder. He had no mercy in fucking you into the floor and enjoyed the sounds of pure pleasure that came from your lips.

And when he touched your sensitive bud, you couldn’t hold back any longer. Everything inside you tensend until you finally feel like you're falling. You screamed his name breathlessly while your body trembles under the waves of the orgasm.

He fucked you through it until he found his own release. His upper body fell forward and he supported himself with his hands next to you. Breathing heavy and with closed eyes, he emptied himself into you. Finally, he sank onto your smaller body and you let your hands glide softly through his dark locks.

“I take that as a yes” you broke the silence that had fallen over you and got his attention.

“What do you mean by that?” Halbrand asked curiously and looked up at you.

“Are you coming back with me to Middle Earth?" you asked and watched him sit up. A soft whimper escaped you as he slipped out of you by that.

After he had put his pants back on he crouched down in front of you again. Halbrand offered you his hand and pulled you back into a sitting position, taking your face gently in his hands.

“I would follow you everywhere, my love. And if you wish to go back to Middle Earth, I'll come with you,” he whispered against your lips before giving you a gentle kiss. After that he let go of you and stood up, ready to leave the room.

“Where do you think you’re going?” you asked and watched as he turned to you again and let his gaze glide over you, full of renewed desire.

“I'll get you something to wear. I'm definitely not letting you go like this.”

2024 notreallythatlost

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Tides of fate (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which your newly returned husband is unsure of the path ahead, and the sea itself tries to deter you from the one you choose together

Warnings: evil!reader, smut (sneaky handjob in a public place, brief descriptions of p in v), probably inaccuracies of canon geography/lore to suit the fic, somewhat repentant Sauron stands a teeny tiny chance of being better but reader is an ‘I can make him worse’ kinda girl

Note: part of the evil!reader collection. If you’re new, reader has been married/soulbound to Sauron since before Adar killed him and infiltrated herself in Eregion as a smith while she waited for his return, but came to find him when his presence became strong enough through their bond again.

Mature content below the cut—minors DNI!!!

Halbrand.

Whilst the other passengers on the ship are asleep, he lies awake with his new name and his new face, heading into what is to be a new life. He has yet to decide whether it should be different from the one before, but one thing he knows beyond all certainty—you shall be by his side, body and soul, until existence itself is no more.

You lie in his arms as he sits reclined against a pile of cargo, with your head resting upon his heart. Even aslumber, you seem to cling to him, your fingers ever so slightly curled in the ragged shirt he wears. Halbrand himself refrains from tightening his hold around your waist to the point where he might wake you, and contents himself only with soft caresses of your hair as he cradles you close. Weeks after you had nursed him back to his solid form, there are still times when you feel you must convince yourselves that you are together once more, and the long wait is over.

It had taken a while for the frenzy to pass, once he had been remade. For his newly woven flesh to find relief, if only in part, from the yearning with which it burned for yours.

The first time he’d had you in this body is a blur in his mind, nothing left of it but white-hot flashes of rampant breathing, wails and growls, skin slapping against skin. No sooner had he breathed the air into his new lungs than he had claimed your mouth, fell with you to the ground on the very spot where his new feet had first touched it, and begged to have his wife. A beast rutting into his mate in the snow is what he had been reduced to. On an open trail, beneath the open sky, he had ploughed into you with wild abandon, searing the pleasure of every thrust into his soul as if it would be the last he ever tastes.

He had not known, when last you had been by his side before Adar’s betrayal, that you would be out of his reach for centuries to come, that the very memory of his beloved’s embrace would slip from his grasp with the long years, sunk into the black depths of a rudimentary shape which had forgotten what it was to feel at all. And so the moment he had at last regained a form that could, he had grasped, seized, clawed the feeling of being one with you back into himself.

And you had sunk your nails into his new flesh, christened it with scratches, marking it as yours. He remembers your tight heat, your shrill moans, your tears as you begged him for more, even after your peak. He remembers his frustrated curses when his fresh, tragically human form had softened beyond his control after spilling inside you only once, and your sweet laugh in his ear, nowhere near judgmental as you reassured him that with time, his Maia prowess shall return to spare him such tedious whims of a mortal’s flesh.

“You are still extraordinary, my love,” you had praised with an adoring nibble of his humanly round ear. “A true mortal man as starved as you would not have even made it all the way inside.”

It was, perhaps, for the best. For you might have fucked the very life out of yourself on his cock in those first few days, if not for the occasional need for respite. His partial oblivion, though nothing short of agonizing, had stripped him, at times, of the knowledge of what he was missing. Your longing for your husband had shredded your heart through every single moment of the centuries you had been apart, vivid as ever in your mind and soul. The hollow in your bond had never subsided into anything less than a freshly severed limb, forever bleeding from an open wound. The only reason you had not withered away was that last glimmer of feeling, barely there but undeniably real, that your husband had not passed beyond your reach completely and forever.

For weeks you had remained in those woods, unwilling to do anything but be together. Even if you weren’t making love, you were hardly ever not touching, and it cost you even to pry yourselves away to hunt or gather wood—an effort that much greater since his prowess did gradually return, as you had been most certain that it would.

As you lay in his arms, you spoke to him of the world, all the ways it had changed and all the ways it had not. The dealings of Elves, Dwarves and Men nowadays. The life you had secured for yourself in Eregion, the opportunities it held. A power over flesh. All it did was remind him of the last words he had spoken to Adar’s wretched Orcs before they had butchered him, and the only power he found himself craving was that of feeling your flesh, beneath, against and around his. And you were oh so willing to grant it to him.

The last night before your voyage, you had looked so beautiful, bathed in moonlight and the warm glow of the fire beside you as you rode your husband slowly, savouring every drag of his cock within you. He sat up, holding you close, watching in awe as you took what you needed, and gave him all he craved. His tears do not spill easily, but they had burned behind his eyes as you threw back your head and cried out your release, bringing forth his own. You were everything. His wife. His soul.

His Queen.

He had once sworn he would not rest until the whole of Middle-Earth had been brought to its knees to worship the pair of you, side by side. That nothing less would ever be enough.

Lying beside you by the fire, he was not so certain anymore.

“My love,” he had whispered as you ran your fingers through his unruly hair, “where do you wish to go?”

It was the first time either of you had spoken of your heading, rather than acting as though where you were now was all there was.

You had frowned ever so slightly, as though surprised he even had to ask, and murmured, “With you.”

The following morning, you began your journey. Eregion was your destination, as you had anticipated all throughout his long absence. To follow his weak presence through your bond and find him in Forodwaith, you had left your false life with the Elves claiming to be visiting distant kin. He had yet to spin a tale justifying his joining you upon your return, and he found it more difficult than usual to do so when he didn’t seem to be sure of his goal once you had reached the Elven kingdom. You noticed, of course, but kept your mind at a thoughtful distance, knowing he would speak his in his own time.

When a group of Men crossed your path, it was the first time since his return that you were in the presence of others. With the bit of shape-shifting ability received from your husband upon the forging of your bond, you had made the pointed tips of your ears recede into a round shape to match your husband’s current one. You were to pass as human travellers, unworthy of a second glance.

But an old man, whose name Halbrand had later learned to be Diarmid, halted to inform you of the danger ahead. You must have spent longer in Forodwaith than you thought, for you had not encountered the armies of Orcs described by Diarmid when you had come seeking your husband. The man had spoken of embracing the uncertain tides of fate in hopes of a brighter future—a sentiment embodied, in his view, by a piece of heraldry he wore which had belonged to kings long gone, whose mighty path had crumbled as easily as a less fortunate one might prove to lead into a better place.

This belief of the man touched something in Halbrand, birthed a dim spark of a feeling akin to hope. You, on the other hand, did not seem as affected by his words, or his warm invitation for you and your husband to join his people on their intended voyage to a new life across the sea. No sooner had he moved on than you began to scheme.

“A symbol of royalty with no one left to claim it? That might prove useful,” you said under your breath as the two of you remained standing by the passing group of Men. “We could take it, and their ship. Sail to Lindon instead of risking a run-in with Orcs on the way to Eregion. I have quite enough connections there as well.”

You didn’t need to speak the details for him to know the exact intent behind your words. He was stronger in his power now than he had been when this body was fresh, and you were a force to be reckoned with yourself. The two of you fighting as one could cut through the humans like butter, leaving only enough to man the ship to your desired destination under your forceful command. It would have been easy enough, nothing you hadn’t done before.

“Or perhaps we might sail with them,” Halbrand suggested instead, driven by a sudden impulse.

“Into the West?” you asked quizzically, trying to figure out a purpose of which he was not sure himself. “Is there something you wish to achieve in Númenor, or thereabouts?”

“What I wish,” he said, meeting your eyes, “is for you to come with me.”

Like you’d said you would.

And you did. With but a curious look and a slight furrow of your brow, you placed your hand in his and joined him on this new path, though neither of you was sure where it would lead.

After the weeks—or had it been months?—spent in a near perpetual embrace in the wilderness, the lack of privacy on the ship proved quite the challenge. For plain communication, your bond would have sufficed, but even there a certain veil of concealment had fallen between you. For the more you began to suspect where his intentions might be straying, the less eager you were to breach the subject.

But you hardly ever left one another’s side, and spent each night in the closest embrace appropriate to the rather crowded circumstances, as you are doing now. He never sleeps, and pretending to do so would be a most tedious chore for the sake of avoiding suspicion, if it weren’t for his wife nestled comfortably within his arms. Some nights, however, he finds himself too deep in troubled thoughts for his eyes to remain closed, and that hasn’t gone unnoticed.

“Nightmares again?” Diarmid questions, lifting his head from his own makeshift pillow closeby. He lowers his eyes to you as he says with a knowing lilt, “One would think such a warm embrace can bring peace to even the most troubled of minds.”

His remark lacks any trace of envy, his gaze on you admiring without coveting, and so Halbrand is not enraged by either. He looks down, his eyes following the soft trails drawn by his fingers as they caress your hair.

“She is all the peace I know,” he murmurs.

“But you are haunted still.”

His fingers halt, resting upon your head.

“I’ve done evil,” he confesses. We have done evil, would be the more truthful statement. But so charming and joyful you had made yourself appear to your fellow passengers, he would be taken for a liar. He can only imagine how loved you are in Eregion—how loved you would be anywhere.

“All of us have done things that we care not to admit,” Diarmid replies, seemingly unfazed by Halbrand’s grim admission. How naïve for a mortal man of his age, the Maia thinks, to so easily give the benefit of his doubt to a near stranger.

“Not like I have,” he presses on. What is the purpose of this conversation, he wonders? To test whether he would be cast out? To hear the man lie again, that there is another path for him than that of suffering he has known so far?

Is that a lie?

Diarmid ponders his words. “Your wife,” he says then, as if in answer to his inner musings. “How did you come to be wed?”

You had maintained that much truth in your façade, for obvious reasons. It is a piece of truth Halbrand reveals now as well.

“We were undone,” he says in a dark rasp, “and we remade ourselves by swallowing each other whole.”

A hoarse chuckle escapes the old man. “What a way you have with words, lad. Isn’t that a most dreary manner of saying you have healed one another?” When Halbrand looks at him, guarded, he thankfully knows better than to insist upon the details. “And she knows of this... evil you say you have done?”

Halbrand gives a nod.

“And yet,” Diarmid says, voice softening with a kind of wise tenderness, “she looks at you as though you hold the very sun above her head in the palm of your hand.”

A most uninspired metaphor. Sunlight had become too bright for your eyes, after years spent in the dark heat of Morgoth’s fortress. You do not thrive in it, but rather under grey skies, with cold air caressing your cheeks. But the sentiment he means to express is perfectly true.

“And it is plain to see,” Diarmid adds, “that you love her a great deal as well.”

There is not a single false word in that sentence. You give the lightest stir in your husband’s arms, softly nuzzling his shirt in your sleep, and Halbrand, Sauron, Mairon—everything and everyone he had ever been burns with adoration as he holds you just that little bit closer.

“You cannot imagine,” he murmurs, with nearly as raw a sincerity as only you can draw from him.

Diarmid laughs warmly. “Oh, I can, lad,” he says with a trace of wistfulness. “I can.”

His eyes drift to the distance, as he no doubt remembers some past love of his. And a great one it may have been, but he shall never know what it is to bind his very soul with another’s, to be so inextricably intertwined as the pair of you have made yourselves to be.

Halbrand says nothing, leaving the old man to his imaginings. But Diarmid soon returns from them, and gives his supposed younger a sage look.

“So, you see,” he goes on, “whatever you’ve done in your past, she has forgiven it. Now, you must find forgiveness within yourself. You are alive, holding the woman you love in your arms, because you have chosen good.”

“What of tomorrow?” Halbrand asks, almost a challenge.

“You have to choose it again.” Diarmid gives a small chuckle, as though the answer is most obvious. “And the next day, and the next, until it becomes a part of your nature.”

His nature. Good had been his nature. Once.

He wonders, had you met him as Mairon, whether your souls would still be as one now. Whether you might have lived as Melian and Thingol did, rulers over a kingdom of light, protectors against Morgoth’s darkness rather than partial cause of its spread.

But it feels like a betrayal to imagine a love any different than the one he has known with you, even if it’s still a version of you with whom he contemplates such a thing. Because in the end, it would not be you. Morgoth had stripped you of the Elf you had been as brutally as he had disposed of the once Mairon, though with the Maia, he had made the pain seem so much sweeter in the beginning. You had not fallen in love with songs and poems, with you dancing in a field of flowers and him finding himself struck dumb by your beauty. Your bond had been forged in the hottest and cruellest of flames, and was all the stronger for it. This all-consuming passion, this ruthless obsession of yours, which scorches everything and everyone in its path—nothing less would ever suffice.

Seeing that Halbrand has become lost in thought upon hearing his words, Diarmid gives him one last friendly smile and pat upon his shoulder, then turns away to settle back to sleep. Not long after, quiet snores begin to leave him.

That is when you give a light hum, and shift so that your cheek rests on your husband’s shoulder and your eyes meet.

“What a way you have with words, lad,” you tease softly.

The slightest smile tugs at Halbrand’s lips. “It isn’t proper to eavesdrop.”

“It seemed as though you were having a moment.” Your teasing smile dims as you add, even more quietly, “It seemed as though you wanted it.”

You bring your hand to his cheek, brushing your thumb through the light stubble that now adorns it. You seem to like this form of his, imperfectly human as it is, and nothing pleases him quite like pleasing you. His eyes fall shut as he leans into your touch, taking your wrist in a gentle hold and pressing his lips to the palm of your beloved hand.

“My love...” he begins, but you rest your fingertips upon his mouth.

“I know.” You sigh, letting your hand fall back to his chest. “I know. You’ve been... different, since you have returned. Not only in body. After all this time, what you have endured... I know you are faltering. That you lack direction.”

“And yet you followed me blindly.”

“Always,” you smile, though it’s short-lived. “But... if forgiveness is what you seek... from them...” Your brow creases, voice becoming pained as you lift your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze properly. “My love, we have been here once before.”

“I know,” he says firmly, wrapping your hand in his. “I would not take such a risk again.”

Like he did at the end of the First Age. When, in the wake of Morgoth’s defeat, he’d had a mind to seek pardon from the Valar rather than await their retribution. He had witnessed their might as they decimated his master’s dark forces, and Sauron himself now lacked an army with which to retaliate, should they seek him out. All he had was you, and in his wish to keep you, and in the haze of his new-found freedom from Morgoth’s clenched fist, he had entertained the thought that perhaps the Valar might consider your union, a defiance of Morgoth in itself, to be proof of your renouncing his authority even since before his defeat. Surely, they could be persuaded that all, or at least most of your vile deeds, had been for the sake of each other, to spare your beloved from Morgoth’s wrath. And to a certain extent, it was true.

But the opposite happened. The Valar had deemed your bond unnatural, volatile, forged in too deep a darkness to be anything but a force of destruction. If you truly wished to be pardoned, you were to allow it to be undone. He was to return to Valinor whilst you remained in Middle-Earth, serving to rebuild what Morgoth had destroyed until you had proven beyond doubt you had put your foul ways behind you. Only then would you be allowed passage into the West to be rejoined with your husband, should your love endure such prolonged distance and transformation from the beings you had been when you met.

Servitude would already have been nigh impossible to swallow. But separation—that was unfathomable. It was cruelty beyond imagining, from beings who had the audacity to claim they were righteous and fair. You and your husband had been left with no choice, then, but to seek out a power which would make you gods in your own right. Power over flesh, power over Middle-Earth.

Separation came anyway, only in a different form, the path you had most wanted to evade forced upon you by Adar’s treachery instead of the Valar’s so-called justice. But as great a blow as it might have been, the aftershocks of it spanning over so much time, it didn’t break either of you beyond repair. As Sauron, he has known many setbacks, failures, betrayals. He is not afraid. Even when he sought pardon before, he tells himself, he was being cautious, practical.

But he is, perhaps... tired. So tired.

“You told me you have no wish to return to your life with the Elves,” he breaks the silence you had let fall between you, patiently awaiting the further words you sensed he had to say. “Númenor is said to be a paradise, ripe with opportunity. A smith of great skill and his equally gifted wife are most likely to thrive in such a place.”

Though he speaks in statements, you hear the question they conceal. You had long suspected he had been harbouring such thoughts, and your eyes shift uneasily upon hearing them.

“I can’t say I haven’t thought of it,” you confess in the end. “That perhaps we might simply... be together, as so many others are, and that would be enough. But even if we could find it in ourselves to put Middle-Earth behind us and let Adar go unpunished for what he did...” Your hand grips his painfully as you shut your eyes for a moment, striving not to raise your voice above a tense whisper. “I cannot bear to live in fear any longer. Wondering whether or not the Valar will finally deem us worthy or harmless enough to leave us be. Seeking to appease a higher power whose breath is constantly at the back of my neck even when I cannot see it, like... like he was. Is that not why we put such thoughts aside before, and sought to claim the power that we did? To gain control, bring about a new order—our order?” You lean in closer, the despair in your eyes giving way to determination as you stare into his with each and every searing word. “You know we are meant to be more than this. The Valar may not favour us, but fate does. It’s why our paths crossed in the first place, and why we found our way back to each other time and again, despite Morgoth, and Adar, and all who would have seen us apart. It’s why we will prevail.”

It’s so taxing, keeping the intensity of your words’ sentiment quiet, that the release comes in the form of tears slipping from your eyes. Your husband’s brow creases, leaving your hand to lie upon his quickening heart as he cups both of your cheeks.

“All this time...” he whispers, thumbs brushing your tears like they are priceless gems, “all these centuries, you have kept your faith in our vision. In us.”

He knows all too well how strong you are, how ruthless in your resolve, but sometimes, the sheer might of your devotion to him still knocks the breath from his lungs.

A teary chuckle escapes you. “Had you not spent all those centuries as a barely sentient liquid, I’m sure you’d have done the same. Not to mention,” you add, seeking to lighten the mood with a touch of coyness, “you promised me a crown, my love. And I shall not let you rest until you have put it upon my head, and I have known what it is to be a true Queen, worshipped by all beings,” you lean so that your lips ghost over his as you whisper alluringly, “and by her King most ardently of all.”

He gives in with a subdued groan, catches your lips in a fleeting kiss—then presses a thumb to the soft flesh beneath your chin to better his hold on you and keep you at bay.

“My love,” he rasps out in warning, eyes roving over your face, “do not tempt me so when I cannot have you as I please.”

A wicked smile spreads across your lips, and your softly-spoken words are the sweetest siren song, calling him to his doom. “You can have me, my love. We can have anything we wish.” Your hand begins a most audacious journey down his chest and along his tensing stomach, disappearing beneath the blanket covering the both of you above the waist. “They are nothing,” you go on, nimbly working open his trousers. “What they see, what they think of us now, will be nothing once we have brought them under our rule.”

Even with the blanket covering you, if someone were to look closely, they would likely be able to discern the precise location and intent of your hand. Quite frankly, Halbrand cannot bring himself to care if they did notice either, not when his wife takes his flesh in a nearly cruel grip. His cock grows and hardens in helpless answer to your beckoning, and this, he thinks for the one thousandth time, is the sole kind of helplessness which sets his blood aboil with desire rather than rage. It takes but a few strokes, dry and curt, and he is swollen, aching, the veins in his neck straining as he bites back a growl.

As for you, it’s a struggle not to rub yourself against his leg like a warg in heat. But it is his pleasure you wish to achieve, not your own. You press your lips to those captivating lines of tension on his neck, and swipe a thumb over the tip of him to find it wet. He remains discreet in sound, if not in expression, but you feel the spike of his pleasure through your bond as you keep caressing that most sensitive part of his cock. All of a sudden, his hand is at the back of your neck, and he pulls you down so that your cheek is pushed into his chest, his chin resting the slightest bit too heavily upon your head. Like this, you feel his rampant heartbeat, his ragged breathing, the tremors you send throughout his body with each and every stroke of his length.

It’s an illusion of control, he knows, crushing you to his chest whilst the heart within it contorts and threatens to unspool back into a pile of black slime, taken apart by your words and touch. He lets you break from his hold the moment you rebel out of it, and plant your chin upon his shoulder.

“I kept my faith, because I could see us,” you whisper, your hot breath in his ear plunging straight to his cock as you pump him into a silent frenzy. “I can see what we will become, and it is so... so beautiful. Do you see us, love?” you all but whimper, as though your words alone bring you as much pleasure as the glide of his length within your fist does him. “Can you see your Queen, spread upon our throne... wearing nothing but the jewels you have given me and the crown upon my head... as your tongue swears fealty between my legs? Can you see me do the same, on my knees before my Lord and King?”

Oh, he can. So many times he’s had you, in so many ways, but the thought of you worshipping each other whilst you are being worshipped across all of Middle-Earth, taking pleasure in one another as well as the symbols of your power... That had always wrought a particular kind of havoc upon his loins, proportionate in might to the high brought by the prospect of victory in itself. And you know that damn well, as well as all the right ways to caress and graze and squeeze and knead to play his body like a harp into the very melody you wish to elicit, regardless of the form he takes, for you might as well be nestled beneath his skin, living and breathing among the strings you so deftly pluck with your ruinous fingertips. Your touch, your words, moulding his mind as you please—is this what one feels like, he wonders, when Sauron the Deceiver slithers his way into their unsuspecting thoughts?

But this is no deceit. This is his wife, his soul, reminding him of his true self, just as you did when you first found what had been left of him in Forodwaith, and put him back together. His hips jerk into the movements of your hand, seeking you out, uncaring of the people who might wake and see him being undone by your touch. You are right. They are nothing. You are all there is, and all there ever shall be.

You chuckle as he chases his breath, and bite his earlobe—hard. It may not be the sensitive tip of an Elf’s pointed ear, but the jolt of pain lights a fire beneath his skin that scorches everything in its path, and no amount of control over his form could have prevented him from spilling his seed right there and then. The growl he lets loose would have surely roused those sleeping closest by, if not for your sudden grip on his throat and lips covering his, swallowing his rough breaths. He spills and spills as you stroke him through his release, until the exquisite throbbing in his cock has finally run its most fulfilling course.

To think there was a time he knew not what it was to crave another, nor did he care to know—and then he had known you. The pleasure of his flesh might as well have your initials engraved into it.

You loosen your grip on his throat as you break the kiss, and that hand goes instead to tenderly brush a lock of dark hair from his temple. You seem awfully pleased with yourself when he opens his eyes into yours, and he doesn’t shy away from admitting that you very well should be. The hand with which you had pleasured him emerges from beneath the blanket with his spent glistening on your fingers, and you hold his gaze as you rest the digits on his bottom lip. The tip of his tongue darts out slightly, tasting what you have done to him. What you always do. He wraps his lips around your fingers, scrapes them lightly with his teeth, and something softens in your eyes.

“I want more,” you whisper, nothing short of a goddess reduced to her most vulnerable self. “I want everything. But I need only for you to want me.”

His new heart lurched in his chest. As if he could ever stop. As if there could ever be more, be anything, if there was no you and him.

He knows much better than to take your words as an admittance of defeat, however. If he truly were to demand that you renounce your aspirations, you would be furious. You would fight and fuck him in every way you could think of to change his mind, but you would follow him wherever he went. As he would you. There is no such thing as choosing to leave one another’s side, unless you have reason to believe that your temporary separation shall serve to make you all the more fruitful in your shared endeavours upon your reunion.

Your shared endeavours is what they still are. What they always have been. He sees that now, clearer than ever.

Having released your fingers, his mouth claims yours in a bruising kiss. You moan into it, too loud, too desperate, but neither of you cares. He truly abandons all caution, pulling you into his lap by your waist, and you grind your clothed core into his newly hardening cock as soon as you are astride him, and damn these people, damn your ruse, he is going to have you, fully and unrestrained, right here in their midst. It matters not, for most will be dead soon either way. For you will take the ship for yourselves, just like you first suggested, and sail back to Middle-Earth to claim it as your own. And he means to tell you this whilst you ride him, just as you are reaching your peak, and send you careening into it with this sweetest promise like you had done him—

Something’s wrong. Even in the heat of passion he feels it, and every muscle in his body stiffens. You break away at once, alarmed by his alarm.

“Hold on to me,” is all the warning he has time to give you.

Not a soul on the ship remains asleep when it takes the first hit, water flooding into the hull through shattered wood. It’s everywhere, bursting through holes in the walls and pouring down the stairs from the deck, and you barely manage to scramble to your feet before the next blow lands, and the next. You do try to keep your grip on each other, but end up bracing yourselves against the pile of cargo on which you had been resting so you don’t get knocked off your feet. At the very least, he manages to hastily refasten his trousers. Not that anyone would care if they caught a glimpse of a man’s privates at a time like this—but in his flailing circumstances, it isn’t quite the power move it would have been if he were shamelessly buried to the hilt inside you for all to see.

“Was that—?”

“Yes,” he answers you gruffly. “Sea worm.”

“Is that a problem?” you ask urgently, ever so pragmatic even as your chest heaves through the sudden panic.

He isn’t sure. He feels recovered enough, but he can’t say whether his ability to sway the creature’s mind is good as new until he’s come face to face with it. He’s about to go and find out, when a voice screams, “Help me!”

It’s Diarmid who cried out, trapped beneath a wooden beam that had collapsed upon him. Bleeding from a head wound, he looks to Halbrand in despair. No one else even stops to look, the other passengers scurrying around in a frenzy, as if there is anywhere to run.

Halbrand and you make no move. Your gazes meet as you wait with bated breath for his choice, even in the midst of chaos.

Whatever you’ve done in your past, she has forgiven it.

If anything, you should forgive him for ever faltering in his resolve. There is no such thing as a man called Halbrand, or as you and him disappearing in the crowd. You shall be everywhere, standing above everything and everyone, as you were always meant to.

He leans over Diarmid, grabbing hold of the fallen beam atop him—only to snatch the pouch bearing a king’s symbol from his neck, the Maia’s pitiless eyes staring into the man’s terrified ones. He turns to the beautiful sight of your smile, proud and relieved, and a smirk blooms on his own lips. Screams fill the ship as it is ripped to shreds, but you put your hand in his and pull him towards the deck with an exhilarated “Come on!”, and for a moment he suspects this feeling in his chest might be akin to what a young man would experience, if he were being whisked into the unknown by a rebellious first love.

And like the folly of such youth, it doesn’t last. Your hand slips from his as the ship falls apart, swallowed whole by the ocean, and he is submerged into an underwater field of shattered woods and floating bodies. He has lost you from his sight, but he knows you’re alive. He knows he is still lord over beasts as well, when the sea worm obeys the command in his eyes and abandons its attack, swimming away. Perhaps the effort of imposing his will on such a great creature is still too taxing. Perhaps that’s why the pulse of your life is as vivid as ever within your bond, but feels further away. The water is dark, and you are strong—he feels is. You are soon to surface.

But when he emerges from the sea, grabbing hold of a floating piece of wood, you are nowhere in sight.

He waits. Waits, then dives back in.

The bodies he finds are all corpses.

You are alive.

But you are gone.

His scream is lost in the black depths of the sea.

*****

As soon as you break through the surface, gasping for air, you know something is terribly amiss.

For one, there is no one in sight. No ship, no people, no sea worm. Then, there is the rising sun, when moments ago it had been little past midnight, and land in sight when you had been most certain you were in the middle of the sea. And most poignant of all, there is distance—great and sudden, between you and your husband.

He is well, though, and even more so now that he has felt you reaching out to him. The spark of relief echoing through your bond is the only reason you do not immediately despair. You have an inkling of what might have occurred. But you save your energy for swimming towards the distant shore, channeling your ire into each kick of the water.

How do the Valar expect you to renounce your bitterness towards them, when they do their very best to fuel it with every given occasion?

*****

He breathes easy at last. He had known you were alive all along, but the gnawing emptiness where your consciousness should have been had not ceased to churn within his chest until he’d felt you, aware and present in your bond once more.

For you to have drifted away, so quickly and so far... it was no natural occurrence.

There’s a presence he’d felt. A watching. Sickly familiar, and he knows not how, but—they knew. Perhaps you had invoked them one too many times, and Ulmo himself had reached out with a watery tendril of his power to snatch you from your husband’s reach. Whether in punishment or warning, it matters not. For in his haste to part you, the Vala had failed to prevent a great opportunity from landing right into his great enemy’s lap—or rather, swimming her way onto his raft.

Galadriel.

He knows her name. How could he not? Sister of Finrod, daughter of Finarfin. A mighty Elven warrior, hailed as the fairest of Elven women, the very light of the Trees of Valinor supposedly snared in her tresses. It’s hard to tell, with her golden hair soaked and clinging to her shoulders. But her beauty concerns him little. Once he has taken Middle-Earth, he thinks, he shall have the tongue of any being who dares suggest another might be fairer than his Queen.

You’ve reached the shore, he senses, back in Middle-Earth. To Galadriel, he speaks half-truths of hateful Orcs that chased him from his homeland, but within himself, he smiles. So, they dare not kill you, still, especially after they were proven right to hesitate in doing so before—when the Orcs had robbed him of his form, his power had burst from the remains of him with such anguished fury, Forodwaith had been reduced to an icy wasteland. Should your bond be severed as violently, there is no telling what horrors that gaping wound might unleash. The Valar have revealed their fear once more, and it serves to remind him why the two of you have nothing to fear.

You were right, my love, he thinks. The message may not reach you word for word, but he knows it will be crystal clear in your mind. Though some may seek to part us, the tides of fate are flowing ever in our favour. Make for Eregion. Await me there. I shall return to you soon, having made great progress towards our end.

From you, there comes the anger and the grief of your parting, which he shares—but stronger than that is your faith in him, further solidified by his determination.

“Around your neck,” Galadriel says. “Is that the mark of your people’s king?”

She had noticed, then. He’d been careful to fiddle with it earlier, tucking it into his shirt when she thought he hadn’t seen her scrutinizing him. You had been right, of course—that pouch would prove useful, after all.

Thank you, my love, he thinks fondly to you. For reminding me who I am. Who we are.

Your devotion caresses his soul, and the Deceiver begins to worm his way into an unsuspecting mind once more.

Previous fic with same reader -> Remade

Next fic with same reader -> Reunion

[little-diable]

Bound in Eternity - Halbrand/Sauron (smut)

This obsession isn't fading, but I ain't sorry, y'all will have to endure this. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Once wed, once forced apart by Adar's betrayal, and now their paths cross again - all while he is fighting side by side with an elf that looks at him as if they are soulbound.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, public, jealousy, choking, possessiveness, some degrading

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x fem!reader (2.3k words)

At first it felt as if she was dreaming. A restless dream that would haunt her for centuries to come. A darkening dream that would force her to doubt everything she had clung to ever since their paths had been forced to part. Centuries that have turned into a cloud of confusing smoke, too thick for her to see through it.

But the tip of the sword felt too cold, too sharp to be a mere imagination of her racing mind. This wasn’t a dream, this was all but a dream, reality had caught up with her, drawing her towards the battle where she could feel him close.

Him. The one she had been bound to ever since she could remember. Him. The one who had always held her heart in his hands, careful not to crush it even as darkness had begun to poison every vein, every inch of his frame. Him. The one she had longed to feel close again ever since Adar’s betrayal.

Hope was flickering in her eyes, she had changed her frame just like he had, finding a new body to house her soul for the time being. A frame he seemed to find himself confused by, not reacting to the way her soul tried to reach for his, desperate to let their powers intertwine once again. But something seemed to hold him back, something that left a bitter aftertaste on (y/n)’s tongue while studying the unreadable expression tugging on his new handsome features.

“Who is she to you?” His eyes flickered from hers to Adar’s, the one she didn’t dare to look at, knowing that she’d fight against every sword for the mere chance to kill him. She’d burn Middle Earth to the ground for a chance to pierce her sword through his skin, robbing him of his life just like he had tried to rob the life of her lover.

“I don’t know her.” She couldn’t stop a huff from leaving her, forcing her lover’s eyes back to her. (Y/n) was close to murmuring his name, but the presence of the elf held her back, the golden haired warrior who looked at her lover with something making (y/n)’s insides churn in disgust and jealousy. The elf spoke something to him, but she couldn’t listen, not when she tried to make herself familiar with his new appearance, the slightly unruly look that seemed to perfectly fit him.

His eyes found hers again as he sheathed his sword before reaching for her arm to pull her to her feet. A fire spread through her the second he touched her, something he must have felt too judging by the momentary recognition flushing through his eyes. They kept holding eye contact as the elf reached for Adar, binding his arms to drag him with her. A soft smile managed to break out on (y/n)’s lips, she fought against the need to reach for his bearded cheek, to let her skin meet his again like it had last done on that forsaken morning before he had been ripped from her side.

For a second, a darkening grin widened on his lips, a grin that made her breath hitch in her chest. He tightened his grip on her while moving towards his horse, wordlessly helping her into the saddle before placing himself behind her. His arm found its way around her waist, pushing her back against his armoured chest before dipping his head down to let his breath fan over (y/n)’s neck, “I feared you may have forgotten about me, sweetling, but I should have known that our bond will survive even the furthest distances.”

Goosebumps rose on her skin, perfectly matching the heat spreading through her body. She couldn’t reply, not when the elf looked back at them for a moment before leading them down the forest path, but the way she squeezed his hand seemed to be enough for him for now.

…

“Halbrand, what a strange name to choose.”

Her voice had a teasing touch to it, drawing him closer as they stood near the shed the elf had dragged Adar into seconds ago. His eyes burned holes into her skin, leaving a fiery trail as he cupped her cheek, letting his calloused thumb stroke her skin.

“And what should I call you now, sweetling?” His voice dropped lower with every spoken syllable, undoubtedly feeling the same pull in his chest. She wanted to kiss him, wanted to feel his lips pressed against hers, but something seemed to hold him back, something having to do with that elf (y/n) struggled to look at for longer than a handful of seconds.

“I haven’t chosen a different name yet, Mairon.” The growl leaving him drew a whine out of (y/n), she needed to feel him closer, desperate to taste him again just like she had longed for all those centuries.

“The elf, Galadriel, is a worthy asset in our game, I fear you need to put your trust in me once more.” Confusion pushed through (y/n), forcing her eyebrows to furrow while looking up at him. He let go of her before another word could leave her, forced to look at Galadriel reemerging from the shed.

He left her side to speak to the elf, murmuring words (y/n) couldn’t understand. Anger began to simmer inside of her, anger directed at her lover who hadn’t even kissed her yet after all those years apart, at the elf who seemed to pull him into her trap all too easily, at herself for falling for his game yet again. But no matter how much she wanted to rip herself free, she couldn’t leave his side again - not after only being reunited moments ago.

“Speak, what’s your name?” Galadriel had her eyes directed on (y/n), waiting for her to find her words again as she fought against the lump in her throat. For a second, she let her gaze find his, hoping to find something swimming in his pupils to direct her path, but he didn’t give her anything. Nothing but the grin she had once found herself obsessing over.

“(Y/n),” it was a simple reply, a reply that left him tensing while the elf only nodded her head. It had been centuries since he had last heard her name being spoken out loud - only he had allowed himself to call it out loud when lust overcame him, the simple pleasure mankind seemed to ache for as if it was the air they needed to breathe. But his longings for her had always been stronger than his arrogance, allowing him to let go of any darkening thoughts while fucking his hand to the thought of her.

“Do you know how to wield a sword?” Galadriel’s eyes didn’t leave hers once, a gaze filled with uncertainties and confusions. (Y/n) only nodded her head as she could watch a smirk widen on her lover's lips. Perhaps her return had been just what he needed, another asset in fooling the elf who looked at him as if he had placed every single star on the night sky himself.

“Good, you’ll come with us.” Wordlessly the elf turned away from them, not picking up on the sight of Halbrand and (y/n) grinning at one another with darkness swimming in their pupils. A darkness that forced lust through their veins, a longing both seemed to share as he positioned himself behind her on the saddle once more.

For a second, time seemed to stand still as he whispered to her in the language others feared, the black speech both had shared all those centuries ago. His longing for her was clear, as was hers while she pressed herself back against his chest, unable to bite down a soft whimper as his words kept teasing her. Her whimper turned into a gasp as he suddenly led the horse into a different direction, away from Galadriel who seemed to be oblivious to what was happening.

Trees blurred past them, putting more and more distance between them and the elf. And then the horse came to a sudden halt, almost throwing her off the saddle had it not been for the strong arm he’d wrapped around her waist. Wordlessly he helped her back down, feet meeting the ground before she found herself pressed against the nearest tree.

And then their lips met, finally, after all those years apart. He still tasted the same, of loving and a home others would curse but she had always been aching for. The kiss wasn’t soft nor was it sweet, their teeth clashed, their tongues got tangled while his impatient hands toyed with the lacing of her trousers. Heavy pants left them both, urged on by their longings and the need to unite their bodies once more.

“Tell me, did you let another touch you?” Anger simmered inside of her, a sensation so strong, it allowed her to switch places with him, pushing her lover against the tree while her hands worked on his armour to free his aching cock. He stared down at her, hairs falling into his forehead, eyes growing darker with lust.

“Do you think so little of me, Mairon? I’ve endured centuries without a single touch while all I could long for was your closeness.” A satisfied hum left her lover, eyes momentarily fluttering close as he felt her hands wrapped around him, touching him just like he had touched himself days ago to the thought of her. He felt heavy in her hand, leaving her walls clenching around nothing at the thought of him “But what about you? Did your game ask you to bed the elf? She looks at you as if you’re soulbound.”

A raspy chuckle left him, a sound that only agitated her further. His cold hand found (y/n)’s warm cheek, forcing her to keep looking at him even as he pushed her hand away. Wordlessly he turned them around again, with his hand finding its rest on her throat he kept her held in place, “Perhaps I have, perhaps I’ve fucked her to blindside her, you always knew of the sacrifices we had to make.”

She knew that he was lying, set on pushing her further into her anger to heighten her senses, and yet she couldn’t stop the curses rolling off her tongue, words in the black speech he cut off with his hand adding more pressure to her throat. Her eyes grew wider as she felt his cock near her entrance, coating himself in her slick before he finally pushed into her.

The second he pushed into her she could have sworn she felt the ground shaking, an eruption so strong it buzzed through her body. But the smirk lingering on her lover’s lips was enough to keep her focused on him.

He fucked (y/n) against the tree, hard, fast, set on leaving bruises to make up for all those lost centuries. Barely any air managed to flood through her lungs, just enough to leave her trembling against him while choking on his name, “I’ve almost forgotten how being buried inside of you feels like, no matter which form we take on, we’re always made to fit, sweetling.”

The words were unusually soft, leaving her brows to furrow while she felt the air around them growing heavier. Something was happening in the Southlands, but she didn’t dare give in to any distraction while her lover finally fucked her again, “You’re taking me so well, fuck, I should have known that all those years wouldn’t change your hunger for me, you’ll always be a cock hungry whore for me.”

“Fuck you,” she spat the words against his lips, a mere whisper and yet just enough to make him raise his brows in mock surprise. His thrusts grew rougher, drawing whines out of her as she felt her orgasm creeping closer and closer. He dipped his head down to kiss her throat, letting his beard scratch her skin while his hand let go of her, only to find her pulsing bundle.

“Beg for it.” It was a simple, rasped command, enough to make her see stars while she could taste her release on the tip of her tongue. For a moment, his thrusts grew slower, dragging out the moment as she searched for her voice. “Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you dumb, you poor thing. Let me hear your voice.”

“Please, Mairon, let me cum.” A sob left (y/n), blurry gaze focused on his features. Darkness seeped out of his every pore, shadows wrapping themselves around the two, all while another hum left him. “I need it, oh fuck, please.”

“Cum with me.” Both fell over the edge at the same time, drawing moans from them while they lost themselves in the intense sensation. It had never felt this strong, this relieving, this perfect. A deadly mixture reminding them both of the power they could wield when their souls were finally connected again.

His forehead fell against hers, lips connected once more before he pulled away. But her hand darted out to cling to his jaw, searching his eyes while finding her trembling voice, “Tell me you’re still mine, tell me she’s nothing but a pawn in your game.”

A raspy chuckle left her lover, he shook his head while intently studying her, “She’s a worthy asset, a pawn to bring us closer to what we’ve been working towards. But she’ll never be you, nobody ever will, sweetling, and it’d do you good to finally remember that.”

(Y/n) pressed another kiss to his lips before both directed their gazes towards the darkening sky, tasting the smoke and ash in the air - something seemingly pushing excitement through his veins, “So it begins.”

[kasagia]

Halbrand's Masterlist

One-shots

Skin and bones

Ever since Galadriel revealed Halbrand's true identity, you've been having some very strange dreams… dreams that aren't the innocent figments of your imagination you thought they were.

Flesh and blood

Centuries of running away, fighting with what is right and what you should do, have left their mark on you. In time, you begin to realise that the war between good and evil, light and darkness, will never end. And you are tired of all of it. Especially since HE never leaves you alone. Not even for a short moment. Not even when you're about to marry someone else.

In death's arms

There was nothing Sauron regretted doing. Every nasty thing he did to gain power paid off for him, and given the choice again, he would do it all over again. Or so he thought, until his path was crossed with someone from his past. It turns out that some of his mistakes are destined to haunt him forever.

Tolerate it

You were with him from the beginning of his existence, from the first break of the silence. You blindly and faithfully followed him—your great, epic love, doing everything to help him, to stay with him no matter what. Sauron was Morgoth's shadow. And you were Mairon's shadow. What will you do when you realise that your devotion is no longer valued and desired by him?

[fannyspammy]

OK BUT WHEN ANNATAR WAS TELLING BRIMBY ABOUT THE PAIN HE EXPERIENCED?????? I could SMELLLLLL the SADIST & MASOCHISTIC FANFICS BREWING IMMEDIATELY

[pursuitseternal]

“Something (wicked this way comes)” for Halloween, a modern Haladriel werewolf AU

Haladriel Modern Werewolf AU |E| 4K

Summary: Gal finds herself more than what’s on her shopping list… a handsome stranger with golden green eyes and a magnetism she can’t resist… Good thing her brother isn’t anywhere near. He’s too busy hunting for that Monster, wherever he might be… Inspired by a local werewolf tale where I live.

Read on AO3

CW: some blood, A/B/O rules that are fast and loose, total stalker vibes, fated mates, star-crossed mates (sister of his enemy after all), naked Halbrand… 🌶️ spice and I don’t mean pumpkin pie seasoning 🎃

He will make you howl

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Fuzzy. Aching. My head throbbed and cheeks burned, my eyes struggling to focus as they fluttered open to the warm orange light. I felt sick. Like the worst hangover of my life. Or like I was hurled unconsciously over miles. Wherever I was, something soft and warm cocooned around me.

It all came rushing back to me—the blood, the glistening skin, the howls and glowing eyes in the middle of the road. The dark Wolf, the sexy man, the familiar stranger. I was wherever Halbrand had taken me.

And this wherever it was a small, single room cabin, Franklin stove included that gave off the eerie orange glow. Better than the dungeon you thought a monster would inhabit. I laid on a mattress, covered in thick flannel quilts and soft downy pillows. All of which was just inundated with his scent.

Something stirred beside me in the shadows, in the darkest corner of the room, and Halbrand leaned his head into the light.

“Well, if the princess isn’t finally awake,” he taunted, a sharp, cruel edge to that baritone. Like gravel in his voice. “Took you long enough to come to…” he flexed his hand in the firelight, long dark claws extending from his fingers making me catch my breath. “Would have thought you stronger as Finrod’s sister, but…”

He shrugged, standing to his feet as he crossed the small distance, his bare feet silent on the wood planks of his floor. I realized with a clench of my gut and a heat in my body that he was still naked.

And he clearly liked what he saw in me. I had to look away from that cock. Bigger, thicker than any I had seen in pictures or online. Impossible. Monstrous. I forced my eyes away, even as it made the heat between my hips flare to agony as I did so.

Smooth, silent, the true beast he was, he sat on the mattress beside me, fluid as he framed my body between his arms, his face just hovering over my cheek, my hair, as he smelled me.

Read more on AO3

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

My entry for Monster Mash Bingo for @thehaladrielfancollective AND for “spice” for @hellghoulweek 🎃🎃

[marimosalad]

🌶️NSFW🌶️

See it uncensored on AO3 🖤

[poetryvampire]

✨️trop men and if they could get you off based mostly on vibes ✨️

💕Now to level the playing field let's give a simple y/n on if they could get the job done during your first time together and the overall mood of the evening. Mildly nsfw (I'm not gonna get too detailed...unless 👀)

Adar💀 Yes. Woof, not to get too crass right off the bat but daddy is the name he earned so yes absolutely. Also brace yourself it will be kinkier than you think and it will awaken something in you. And it would start off painfully slow just easing you into it lightly. Seems like a great opportunity to try things you've been curious about but beware you're getting into like five kinks that haven't even crossed you mind before. One minute you're having a romantic candle lit dinner then Bam youre wearing a chain collar with his name on it.

Elrond 😇 Oh, god bless. No. Baby I'm sorry but no. That being said it would still be a great time with really positive vibes. But Elrond would get too in his own head thinking about options and the best 'plan of attack' to actually deliver. Plus he would play it super safe not wanting to off put you in anyway and thus would kill the passion a bit. Still would be the biggest sweetheart and over all give you a fun time. (Give him time to build his confidence though lotr Elrond Fucks for sure)

Halbrand 🐶 LISTEN Listen listen...No. Hear me out. I just-I feel it in my blood that this guy will rizz you so hard and talk such a big game and than when he time comes it's just ok at best. Like he's made at least one person come before and thinks he has cracked the code. Still his heart's (seemingly) in the right place and its pretty romantic over all. Lots and lots of cuddling.

Annatar 🐱 Yes. And it's amazing but the vibes are terrible. He gets way too intense too fast. He's the kind of guy to say some really weird shit during. Like not even anything dirty just waxing poetic about how you're part of each now and the bond of your bodies is inescapable even in death. And he waaay into talking about how you belong to him now and you're just like?? Is he just talking crazy in the heat of the moment or ?? Also no aftercare and he's 100% gone when you wake up.

Arondir 🏹 Yes. And it's Good but not as romantic as you were hoping. He's into you but Arondir def doesn't realize what a catch he is and is surprised that you're so here for him. Also buddy's got a lot going on so he's still gonna be pretty guarded emotionally. Still he's extremely respectful and such a good kisser like he's got your head spinning and you've barely started.

Elendil 🗡 No. But he tries hard and it's a great time. He's kinda got that big puppy Halbrand thing going on but like genuine. Def more into you than you are him. Elendil will rizz you with care. Pays very close attention to what you like/want. Even if it doesnt happen he's fine with talking about it, even makes a few light jokes at his expense. He's terribly good at putting you at ease. By the end of the night you're more smitten than you first thought.

Celebrimbor 💍 Yes. Are you kidding me?We're talking mastery, we're talking attentiveness, we're talking about a very smitten old man that's going to court you with his whole heart. The vibes are impeccable and he's going to make it known that taking care of you is his top priority. Additionally I can't explain why but you know this man's head game is god tier.

Gil Galad 🏵 Yes. Don't even get me started on how this man is gonna rock your world. The high king is a big guy so it's go big or go home when it comes to love and affection. He doesn't allow himself to pursue romance often but when he does he goes hard. In terms of the act itself and the amount of extravagance and detail he'd put into wooing you. Plus cmon you know he's stressed and pent up as hell. Brace yourself for being be absolutely worshipped All night. You're in for a wicked case of jelly legs and you're not going anywhere.

[prettyshinnythings]

Resurrection.

pairings: Sauron x Reader, Adar x reader

Warnings: This is for readers 18+. This chapter contains smut. Please do not read if you're under 18. Idk if this is something I'm going to continue. It's just an idea that I had, but if people like it and want to read more I would love to continue it!

This is my first fic on this blog.

Chapter 1:

465 F.A.

The shadows of our bodies danced along the ceiling of his chambers in the candlelight, each movement reflected on the stone. I can’t help but watch in a heated haze as he thrusts his cock deep inside my needy sex. The sounds of our labored breathing fill the air around us. My focus is purely on the way he feels inside of me. 

This was hardly the first time that he’d had me like this, but this was the first time we’d been safe enough to act on our desires without the fear of repercussions from the lord we served. 

Morgoth had fallen and in the wake of his defeat, we were finally free. His servant held me tightly as he continued pounding into me, rolling his hips and delving deeper into me. I’m overstimulated by the warmth of his bare body and his lips that are latched onto my neck. A moan escapes me as I pull on his ginger locks. 

“Mairon…”

I gasp, my body getting closer to a release with his every movement. He chuckles darkly at how small and breathless I sound, stopping his assault on my neck to pull back to look at me. 

“... Please, I do not think I can handle much more.”

Meekly, my hands move from his hair to cup his face. His smirk grows the longer he looks down at me, watching how intoxicated I am by him. Amused by how my body was always so ready for whatever torture he sent my way. As if my body was made for his. 

“My poor sweetling, have I exhausted you?”

My lips part, my eyes wide as he watches me in quiet satisfaction. As if he’d never seen me at his mercy before. I whimper, my back arching into him as my body threatens to spill over the edge. Another chuckle escapes him as he watches the desperation overtake my face. 

“Go on my love, cum for me.” 

He rasps the words as his hips roll with one final thrust forward, my body unable to last a second longer. My lips find his as I cum, my walls fluttering around him. He kisses me back with as much passion as I give him, cumming with me with one final thrust. For a moment neither of us speaks, we just breathe together, our bodies settling as we lay together. With a final twitch of cock, he pulls out of me and lays next to me in the bed.

He lies on his side as he stares at me as if I’m the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen. His fingers trailed up my stomach, slowly moving up and down my bare body. I feel his eyes roam over every curve of my body. There was a time when I felt insecure under his gaze when I felt as if I wasn’t worthy of such an affectionate stare. Especially with the scars along my body, the deep dark marks that traveled over my chest and stomach. The places where Morgoth had tortured me in my years in his service. There was a time when I didn’t let Mairon see my scars, but after we started seeing each other it became impossible to hide from him.

 Not when he wanted to have every single inch of me. 

“My coronation will be tonight and I want to introduce you as my queen.”

His words are sweet, but I do not know how the Uruks would receive it. They did not respect me. A simple messenger who warmed Sauron’s bed. Surely I was not a suitable option. 

“Mairon, I do not think anyone would find me to be a suitable option for you.”

A quiet rage enters his eyes when I say this. Not because I have upset him, but because he knows that I am right. His brow furrows, as his eyes focus on my body once more, his hand never ceasing its movement along my skin. 

“I will kill anyone who dares to question my choice. (y/n), you are the only one I want. The only one I will ever want. I am yours and you are mine. Nothing will change that.” 

When he says this I feel my eyes begin to water. Emotion overtakes me before I have the chance to conceal it. He was the only one I had ever been with. The only person I loved and trusted above all else. I would follow him everywhere. 

“You are the only one I will ever want too. I am bound to you for the rest of my life.”

The words catch in my throat as I say them, but the tenderness draws him in closer to me, his body pulling mine in against him. The warmth of his body makes me feel safe and secure. In this bed, I feel as if I am home. 

“Only blood can bind my love…”

He murmurs lightly as he kisses the side of my head. I feel my eyes flutter closed when he says this. His proximity is intoxicating as always. 

“... Would you bind yourself to me?” 

He asks, his voice light. As if speaking any louder would scare me away from his question. He knew the answer without me saying a word. But before I can say anything another voice enters the room. 

“My lord…”

Adar’s voice sounds from across the room. My body is exposed for him to see, but I lay there unmoving. Wrapped in my lover’s arms. 

“... I have Morgoth’s crown. It has been resized and is ready for your coronation tonight. Would you like me to put in the great hall?”

Mairon’s eyes remain trained on me as his smirk grows. He’d been as ready for Morgoth’s fall as I had been. Under his rule, we had both suffered greatly and now it was a chance for us to start fresh. 

“Yes. I will meet you in there to discuss arrangements in a moment.” 

His tone is short when he speaks. A dismissive tone that Adar knows too well. That he has been excused. It’s only once we are alone once more that he speaks again, his lips finding the side of my head once more.  

“After my coronation, everything will change. I will make you my queen and I will be your king. Together we will bring peace to Middle Earth.” 

I let his promise hang in the air as I hold onto him. I knew that with him as my lord things would finally get better.

They had to…

… Right? 

–

1500 S.A.

I awaken with a jolt of panic, gasping for air as if I’ve been held beneath water. For a moment I forget where I am as the dream I’d awoken from slowly begins to fade. Light streams inside the tent, touching the foot of my makeshift bed. I feel the unease engulf me as I try desperately to breathe normally once more. 

“Bad dream?”

The soothing voice of my companion roots me in reality as I force myself to meet his gaze. Adar’s eyes look at me with great worry, his brow furrowed as he sits down on the bed next to me. Without speaking, his hands reach for mine, the pads of his fingers are rough against my fair skin. 

“It felt so real.”

I whimper through shaken breaths and forming tears. The dream had felt so real. Like a long-forgotten memory. I felt every emotion, every touch, every gasp, and every kiss. I felt the man from my dream as if he’d been there with me. And the loss of that realness shook me far deeper than it should have. At my side Adar sighs, pulling me from underneath the covers of our bed and guiding me to straddle his lap. His hands find my face as his eyes lock with mine. 

“You’re here now (y/n). That dream cannot hurt you anymore. I am here and I’ve got you.” 

His words are a kindness that I desperately needed. I give him a feeble nod before leaning in to press my lips to his. As if his kiss could take away the void the dream had put inside my heart. 

Adar had taken me in and had always taken care of me after a group of men had murdered my elven parents and destroyed my childhood home. He had become my home in a time of great darkness and I owed him my life. 

I would do anything for him and he knew it. 

The kiss deepens as his hands find my long dark black curls, entangling his fingers in the strands as I draw my body in closer to his. I feel him groan against my lips, his desire for more matching mine. 

“As much as I want to continue this…”

He growled against my lips, his breathing as ragged as mine. 

“... I do need your help with something else. And I’m afraid it cannot wait.”

At his words, I pull back to look at him. His eyes glazed over with wanton desire. Whatever he wanted me to do better be worth stopping us from continuing. 

“What do you need me to do?”

I ask, my breathing still uneven. The early sensation of the void slowly started to creep back in. Adar looks at me and gives me a small smile before tucking some of my hair behind my ear. There is an adoration in his eyes that makes me feel worthy of him. 

“The king of the Southlands turned himself in. He claims that he has news on Sauron’s resurgence. So far he hasn’t been forthcoming with what he knows. I was thinking he might prefer a prettier face to confide in.”

The mention of Sauron causes a chill to move up my spine. Sauron had been before my time, but I’d still grown up hearing the stories. The horrors he brought to Middle Earth and the bloodshed that he left in his wake. The very one Adar hated above all else.

“I can try to get him to talk to me, but I make no promises that I’ll be successful.”

My eagerness to please him causes his smile to grow as he presses his lips back to mine. This kiss is nothing more than a quick peck but the desire that had brewed between the two of us moments ago still lingered. He clenches his jaw as he looks down at me, our lips mere inches from each other. He is torn between what he wants to do and what he needs to do. 

“I have faith that you’ll be more than a little successful (y/n)...”

He pauses, his hands slowly moving from my hair to my torso. He holds my body in place as his hips buck up to grind his hardened member against me. I feel the shutter move through me as he smirks at the way my body desperately wants him. 

“... And once you’ve finished doing your part, I promise to reward you.”

I cannot help the smile that forms on my lips as he gives my bottom a playful squeeze. A giggle falls from my lips, a sound that makes him smile too. A sweet smile, one that left no indication of the dark things he’d done in his past. One that he reserved only for me in the privacy of our tent.

“Wear the dress I gifted you for your birthday. That dress could make any prisoner confess their darkest sins.”

I feel my cheeks redden at his words, my hands playfully smacking his chest.

“What works for you doesn’t necessarily work for everyone my dear Adar.” 

He shakes his head in an amused protest before allowing me to move off of his lap to ready myself for his prisoner king. He watches me closely while I move around the tent to gather everything I need. I couldn’t explain the way it made me feel to be under his gaze, but he always watched me in quiet fascination. 

Like I was an anomaly come to life. 

Like there was something about me that he knew that I didn’t have any knowledge of. 

Something that gave him deep satisfaction. 

[notreallythatlost]

DRESS

➴ halbrand/sauron x female!human!reader

summary: it’s your last evening on númenor and you decide to wear a special outfit for the man you love.

warnings: 18+, MDNI, acting silly because of alcohol, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (female receiving)

word count: 1.4k

note: well, do i have to say anything more about this? no. 🙂‍↕️ inspired by one of my favorite taylor swift songs. this is my first time writing smut, so i really hope it turned out well. likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. xx

inspired by: this song

THE RINGS OF POWER MASTERLIST

It wasn't your intention to draw everyone's attention when you appear. You only wanted the attention of one person.

And you can feel his gaze on you, so hot that it literally burns your skin, but you don't let it show.

The dark red dress clings to your body and sparkles silver in the light of the fire. Your hair falls in soft waves over your shoulders and you know that everyone would fall to their knees at the sight.

But you only want to see him kneeling in front of you. With his hands and lips on your naked skin.

After a brief moment of silence, conversations start again and you slowly turn around, only to meet Halbrand's gaze, who is standing next to Galadriel a few meters away from you.

You know the effect you have on him, you can see it in his eyes even from the distance.

“This time you really surpassed yourself,” a voice sounds next to you and you tear your gaze away from Halbrand.

Smiling, you take the mug filled with ale, that Isildur holds out to you and take a sip.

“Someone told me to come out of my shell,” you reply and you both laugh.

“Since when have you been listening to my advice?” he asks, still with a smile on his lips.

You just shrug at his words and look at him with a grin as he puts an arm around your shoulder and pulls you towards the others.

The evening continues and you have stopped counting how many mugs of ale you have already had. You are just about to take another sip when someone takes the mug out of your hand.

“Hey...” you protest and look up at Halbrand, who is now holding your wrist. “That was definitely enough ale for today,” he says as he pulls you to your feet.

You giggle softly and sway slightly against his firm body. “I won't let you boss me around, handsome,” you say and pat his chest before you try to pull away from him again, but he doesn't loosen his grip.

“Oh, yes. You will,” he whispers and a shiver runs down your spine as he looks at you like a wolf that has finally caught its prey.

Without another word, he pulls you with him, away from the drinking soldiers and to a place where you would be undisturbed.

Before you know it, he's pressed you against the nearest wall and buries his nose in your hair. His hands wrap around your waist, caressing your skin through the fabric of the dress.

“You have no idea, how much control this evening has cost me. I wanted you the second I saw you in that dress,” he growls, now tucking your hair behind your shoulder, to give himself access to your neck.

His lips brush the sensitive skin there, making you hum as you close your eyes.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” Halbrand whispers against your skin and you shiver, a reaction he’s only too happy to see.

“That was your intention, wasn't it? You wanted to drive me crazy?” he continues and gently bites your neck, eliciting a soft moan from you.

“It's our last evening on Númenor, I thought a little distraction wouldn't hurt,” you whisper now, the effect of the ale suddenly replaced by the desire that shoots through your veins like fire.

The sound that comes from Halbrand is like that of an animal and he presses you a little harder against the wall.

“Did you see the looks they gave you?” he says close to your ear and lets his lips slide over your jaw. “Everyone wanted to rip that dress off your body.” With these words he lifts you up and turns with you.

Your lips meet in a wild, longing kiss, as if you were about to starve. You feel him take a few steps until your back hits wood. You moan, the sound swallowed by his mouth and his grip on you tightens.

The kiss becomes wilder, your tongues in an endless dance for dominance.

A surprised sound comes from your lips as he takes your lower lip between his teeth and pulls on it.

Finally, he turns away from the wall again and gently lays you down on something soft moments later.

You are apparently in his room. You don't know how you got here and you don't care, because all that matters to you at this moment, is Halbrand leaning over you.

“The only reason I'm wearing this dress is so you can take it off,” you breathe and place your hand on his chest. But Halbrand wraps his fingers around your wrist again and looks you in the eyes with a mischievous smile, before he takes the other one and holds both of them above your head.

“Oh, my sweet little girl. We're not there yet,” he whispers and starts to push the skirt of your dress up with his free hand.

Your breath catches and you try to turn your hands out of his grasp, but he holds them too tightly.

“Halbr-,” your words are cut off by a moan as he runs a finger through your wetness. Another growl escapes him and he nuzzles his nose against your cheek so that you feel the scratch of his stubble on your skin.

Without further warning, he pushes two of his fingers into you, making you moan loudly. He doesn't seem to want to make any secret of what's going on, just encourage you.

“Let me hear you,” he whispers, moving his fingers until you're writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

Then he releases his grip on your hands and slides down your body. Knowing what would follow, you bury your fingers in his long hair and close your eyes.

As his tongue slides through your folds, you moan and your hips jerk forward. Halbrand grabs you with his hands and holds you tight, so you can't move while he eats you out.

You long for release, you can hardly think straight anymore, but he doesn't seem to want to give it to you.

Just as you wanted to tease him with this dress, now this is him paying you back.

“Halbrand...” you moan his name loudly and he raises his head, leaving your throbbing cunt full of desire.

“Tell me what you want,” his voice sounds and you hear the rustling of fabric. “Tell me what you long for,” he continues and you sit up slightly.

“I want you,” you whisper, with all the strength you have left. Then Halbrand holds out his hand to help you up. His fingers immediately find the back of the dress, where he quickly unties the laces. As soon as the fabric loosens around your body, he pushes it over your shoulders, until it slides down of its own and reveals you to his gaze.

“You are…” he doesn't say anything else, just stares at you in awe as he pushes you back again and you look up at him.

His hand finds yours on the mattress and he laces his fingers with yours. With his other hand, he positions himself in front of you and slides the tip of his cock over your entrance.

With one fluid movement, he sinks into you and you can't help but let out a breathless gasp. The air leaves your lungs and you feel Halbrands' hand resting on the side of your face.

“You belong to me. Don't forget that,” he says with such devotion and yet so firm that your heart clenches in your chest.

“Forever,” you reply breathlessly as he starts to move. The feeling makes you moan and your eyes roll back as you arch towards him.

“Fuck,” he moans and lets his head fall forward. In this moment, there is only him and you and nothing could ever come between you.

Halbrand starts to move faster, hitting a spot that makes you moan whenever he moves his hips. It doesn't take long before you're screaming his name as the orgasm flows through your body like a wave.

The sight of you must have been enough for him, because not a second later he empties himself into you with a rough gasp and then sinks down on you.

“You're perfect,” you hear his voice between bliss and satisfaction and smile weakly.

You want to say something else, but you're too tired.

But you got what you longed for.

It was your last day on Númenor, after all. Soon you would be going to war.

2024 notreallythatlost

[little-diable]

Kinktober 7 - Halbrand

Finally time for the next Kinktober drabble! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

🖤Use of Higher Powers🖤

Warnings: 18+, smut, use of his powers to get the reader off, lots of tension

Pairing: Halbrand x fem!reader (1k words)

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Header by the best @theanythingbuthuman

Rain was pouring from the sky, clinging to her frame as she walked towards the gate with quick steps. She had only spotted his frame a few moments ago, forcing her heart to skip a beat or two before rushing outside.

It had been too long since she had last seen him, not understanding why Galadriel had cast him out before (y/n) had then followed her master Celebrimbor to another workshop. But ever since that day her heart had ached for Halbrand‘s closeness - the man she had found herself longing for, missing the way his eyes had lingered on her frame for a few beats too long whenever they were standing close.

“(Y/n)!“ Halbrand‘s familiar voice dripped with surprise as she approached him, flinging herself into his arms before she could even begin to understand what she was doing. Not once had he touched her, they hadn’t even shared a hug before, and yet she couldn’t endure staying away from him any longer.

“What are you doing out here in the rain?“ He kept his hand placed on her lower back, familiar eyes wandering over her smiling features as she spoke. His thumb stroked along the fabric of her dress, shooting heat down her spine like lightning hitting her body.

“I fear master Celebrimbor isn‘t in a welcoming mood tonight.“ There was something close to sadness swimming in his pupils, a sadness that tugged on the strings of her heart as if her own body was held hostage by the piercing sensation.

“Come, I’ll bring you to him tomorrow, for tonight you may stay at my quarters and warm yourself.“ With her hand finding his calloused one, she began to pull him along, hurrying through the rain while trying to silence her racing thoughts. For months she had dreamt of something like this, a chance to be close to the handsome man without any disturbance, any distracting workers that reminded them of their tasks.

“You’ve always been a kind soul, have you not? I found myself drawn to that warm heart of yours since I first saw you hiding away in the shadows of that workshop.” Warmth coated her skin, forcing her breath to hitch in her chest. (Y/n)’s eyes wandered down his frame, hugged by the silence lingering in her barely alight chambers, focusing on the wounds littering his body, shining through his dirty covering.

“You’re hurt. Let me tend to your wounds.” She didn’t give him a chance to reply, leading Halbrand towards a chair before collecting what she needed. With her back turned towards him, she combed through her drawers, freezing in her search as something began to crawl up her spine - or at least something that felt like it moved. Her heart’s beat grew faster, focusing on the sensation that found her throat, lingering on it for a second before her lips began to tingle from its invisible touch.

“I’ve wondered if you feel the same draw between us, the fire no rain nor ice may dare to put out. Flames that have burned through my soul while I was forced to be away from you. I’ve dreamt of your closeness, (y/n). Tell me you’ve felt the same burning desire that stole your last sane thought.” The sensation stroked along her lips again before moving back down her throat to rest near the cleavage of her dress.

“I have, my lord.” Her voice trembled, hands dropping whatever she had tried to reach for. Only slowly did she turn towards Halbrand - who was still sitting on the chair, eyes not straying from her frame once. (Y/n)’s mind was too foggy to overthink whatever power he seemed to wield, proving to her that he was no mere mortal but a being she had every right to long for - at least that’s what it felt like at that given moment.

A gasp clawed through (y/n) the second the sensation wandered over her cleavage and down her stomach before it began to rest between her thighs. Her hands shot out to stabilise her frame, clinging to the edge of the cupboard pressing against her back, all while a smirk widened on Halbrand’s lips.

“Trust me, love, give yourself to me and let me guide you. Let me form you into the truest form of yourself while your body follows my call, be my perfect creation.” The words were too sweet, too false to let any truth cling to them, but she didn’t care, especially not as the sensation began to put pressure on her bundle of nerves. A moan clawed through (y/n), eyes fluttering close for a second while her knuckles grew a few shades lighter. “Keep your eyes on me.”

The command was spoken with more force, making her eyes shoot open to get lost in his intense gaze. Goosebumps covered her trembling body, focused on the feeling of her orgasm creeping closer. The sensation moved quicker, with more pressure to make her see stars brighter than they had ever been before, resting on Eregion’s sky.

Another moan clawed through her, followed by a proud chuckle breaking through Halbrand. The feeling of his eyes on her, watching her so close to falling apart, made her body feel as if it was on fire. Tears were about to blur her view, tears of desperation that were spurred on by the intensity of the invisible touch.

And then she came with a gasp of his name, allowing her eyes to flutter shut. A single tear made its way down her cheek, dripping off her chin the second she felt him moving, chest pressed against hers. Halbrand’s hand found her cheek, forcing (y/n) to look up at him before he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her roughly.

Moments blurred by, letting the kiss grow more hungry before they were interrupted by the sound of impatient knocking. Halbrand watched her move towards the door, staring at Celebrimbor whose eyes wandered from hers to Halbrand. “I told you to keep away from him, you swore to follow my orders, (y/n).”

“She’s more than capable of handling me.” Halbrand’s words filled the chambers, forcing her eyes back towards him as another smile began to widen on her lips. And deep down (y/n) knew that whatever may come upon them, she wouldn’t be able to part from him again.

[kasagia]

Tolerate it

Pairing: Annatar/Sauron x fem!maia! reader Summary: You were with him from the beginning of his existence, from the first break of the silence. You blindly and faithfully followed him—your great, epic love, doing everything to help him, to stay with him no matter what. Sauron was Morgoth's shadow. And you were Mairon's shadow. What will you do when you realise that your devotion is no longer valued and desired by him? Author's Note: I'm actually proud of this one… I shouldn't say this, but it's my favorite so far. Hope you will like it too! <3 Halbrand's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist

I know my love should be celebrated... but you tolerate it.

- "Tolerate it" by Taylor Swift

You watched carefully as Sauron spoke to the people of Eregion, showering them with his charming smiles and sweet promises. You stared at him, analysing his every little move, seeing the traces of lies and deceit on his face as he tried hard to get on their good side, to deceive them into not seeing through his vision what was really happening behind the castle walls.

You wonder if he did the same to you. When he assured you that Galadriel was just an annoying elf, an obstacle to his plans, could you have detected a hint of deceit in his voice and face if you had looked closely enough? Did he also smile at you sweetly, lying to you directly, only to congratulate himself a moment later and be happy that he had managed to deceive you and suppress your any doubts in him, that would have been inconvenient for his plans?

"My love." He murmurs against your ear, surprising you and tearing you out of your thoughts for a moment.

You flinch as he wraps his arms around you, but he takes it as a shiver of surprise, not disgust. Because how could you, blindly in love with him for centuries, ever untangle yourself from his web of beautiful lies? You wonder if he ever loved you at all, if you were just a toy for him to use from the start.

"You're quiet today. And distant. Is everything alright?" Usually that attentive, caring look he gave you was enough to awaken a wonderful, warm feeling of security and peace within you.

You wonder how many times you've fallen for that illusion of concern for you? How many times has his false concern for you cheered you up? How many times has he laughed behind your back at your naivety?

"Yes. Celebrimbor is making your rings. He should be finishing the Nine soon." You respond, wondering if he'll keep teasing you, if he'll actually care about your feelings. Or if he'll just pat you on the back like a loyal pet for good behaviour and leave you to his own plans like he's been doing lately.

"That's wonderful." He mumbles and presses his lips to your forehead. In any other situation, you would consider it a very affectionate and desirable gesture. But now… his lips burned you. And not in a pleasant way. "Watch over him for me a little longer, my love. Our work here is not over yet. I must make sure that the people of Eregion do not realise what is really happening for a few more hours. Will you keep an eye on him for me, my heart?"

My heart, my love, my dearest... so many beautiful words, words that were hard to hear from him a hundred years ago, now poured from his lips so easily like honey... or wine, which you were supposed to intoxicate yourself with, so as not to open your eyes. Just like the inhabitants of the city he was bringing doom to, as if they meant nothing.

Just like you probably were to him…

"Of course, my darling." You respond with the most genuine smile you can muster. Luckily, he either doesn't notice or doesn't care that you're faking your smile for him. He steals a quick, short kiss and walks away from you in the opposite direction—towards the western gates.

You sigh, leaning against the cool wall of the marble hallway and pressing a hand to your lips. You squeeze your eyes shut, seeing white spots as you try to somehow break free from the situation you've found yourself in.

Uncontrollable sobs wrack your body as the ring he'd forged for you falls from your hand—the ring that was a faint illusion of the real Nenya, which had befallen Galadriel instead of you, which Sauron had given to Galadriel instead of you.

Your heart clenches painfully as you recall the words he spoke to one of the elves last night. Words you accidentally overheard after you went looking for him when he didn't return to your chambers as he had promised you he would.

"Your hair… in this light it reminds me of my lady Galadriel's hair."

His lady Galadriel.

You've survived and gone through a lot of torture, but hearing him speak with such… affection and adoration in his tone of voice about another woman makes you suffer worse than the worst torture you've been throught.

The worst part was that you didn't know what he saw in her. She was just an elf. An elf bearing the light of Valinor—the same light he had forced you to give up for him. If it was so unpleasant to him, why had he been so fascinated by this arrogant elf? Why had he given her Nenya—the ring that was supposed to be yours? Why had he made you feel like the other woman when you were his most loyal soldier—the one who had stood by him through thick and thin?

You hiss as you clench your fists so hard that black blood spills from under your nails, dug into your palm. Through your watery eyes, you watch as the evidence of your corruption—black sap—runs down your palm, staining the metal of the ring he gave you.

You want to take it off, throw it out the window, and never look at this searing reminder of how much you truly meant to him, but you were too far gone. You couldn’t imagine your life without him.

He had become your master, your Valar, your support, your shelter, your heaven and hell, your everything. And for a while, you had been blinded enough to believe that you were just as important and precious to him as he was to you.

You stand before the forge door, feeling like a small child waiting for someone to call you inside—to grant you permission to enter. You wonder when exactly you became so obedient to him. If you could think back to the times when Sauron was just Mairon, Aulë's apprentice, in his forge, you would remember how different you were from who you were today. You were more confident, happier, and filled with light and love for the man who created wondrous, beautiful, unimaginable things under Valar's watchful eye.

You wonder if he was like this already or if Morgoth was slowly injecting poison into his soul. Could you have really prevented his fall? Could you have made sure he never left the forge? Was the fall between the two of you really your fault, the one you were paying for now as you watched your love slip away from you, or was it never truly true? You don't know. You don't want to know. You already feel like you're going mad without his touch and his tender words, without the certainty that you still have some remnant of his soul and love in a heart that clearly stopped beating for you ages ago.

You flinch as the door swings open. Sauron emerges from the forge in a huff, stained with the blood of the elf who forged his beloved rings. He stops, surprised to see you standing in front of the door. You stare at each other for a moment, left in a dull, heavy silence. You break under his intense gaze and instead shift your gaze to the blood stain that has soaked into the black silk material on his chest.

He looked... both angry and agitated, uncertain. You wonder what exactly Celebrimbor had said to him—what exactly had moved him so much that you could see his eyes glaze over for a brief moment before he realised you were waiting for him outside the door.

"Galadriel has them." He informs you, panting with rage. You frown, shifting your gaze uncertainly back to his face.

Thankfully, he’s no longer meeting your gaze. You wonder if it’s because he has the decency to feel guilty about his feelings for the elf, or if he can’t think of her when he looks at you.

You quickly push that thought out of your head. He had everything except decency.

"What?"

"My rings." He growls, looking at you again. You tremble under his dark gaze. HIS rings. Not yours. Not yours. Like all his plans lately - they belonged only to him. "The Orcs will escort you to Mordor. I have a few more things to attend to before I will join you."

You just nod, unsure how else to respond to his words.

You know perfectly well what he wants to do, even if he hasn't told you his entire plan. You know that Adar will soon meet his end at the hands of your beloved. Another life will be taken by him. And with each one, your eyes opened wider and wider.

You gasp as he suddenly covers the distance between you with quick steps and presses you against the wall behind you. He grabs you brutally by the neck and kisses you. Greedily, hungrily, avidly. The force with which he takes your lips and breath is so great that you can't mistake this kiss for anything other than marking his territory. And you know perfectly well that this is exactly what he wants to do.

What he always did.

How blind you were, never seeing that what kept him with you was fear of loneliness, the desire to possess something. You gave him your heart, your soul, your body, everything—without blinking an eye, without a moment's hesitation.

And you watched him tolerate your devotion to him.

As if what you gave him rightfully belonged to him. As if you were ought to bind yourself to him, to be utterly his.

He pulls away from you, cupping your cheeks in his bloody hands and spreading the blood across your skin with his thumbs, staining you with his sins once again. All you can do is stand there, trembling in his grip as he presses his lips to your forehead.

"You're mine. Only mine. Always mine." He brushes his nose against yours, pressing another kiss to your lips. His tongue caresses yours as he tries to reassure himself that you're still caught up in his web of lies and that you still believe in all his tender and sweet gestures that were never really meant to calm your nerves and worries—only him. It was always about him. "You'll look beautiful in a crown next to me. Right, my queen?"

Whatever that elf had told him, it had raised enough doubts in him that Sauron would seek comfort and reassurance from you. A rare thing. Very rare. And you would have treasured that moment, probably remembered it forever, and carved it into your heart if you had not learnt the ugly truth about your relationship.

No matter how much you give yourself to him, he will never be yours in return.

He would never belong to you. He would never celebrate your love; consider it more than something he owed, something he could conquer and flaunt like his rings. You were to be the jewel in his dark crown... right next to Galadriel.

And in that moment you truly envied the elf, for having managed to resist him before he defiled her as he had defiled you.

"Of course, my king." You promise with a smile and lean down to connect his lips with yours—you do what he taught you best. You lie.

Because you know perfectly well that the moment he turns away from you, you will run. Run far away. In the hope that you will escape the darkness that he has rooted in you. In the hope that you can survive, with your heart ripped out and left behind you.

"Have you finally stopped believing his lies? Or is this just another one of your illusions?" You freeze at the sound of Adar's voice behind you.

You turn slowly, watching the fallen elf carefully. Black blood seeps from his temples, but aside from a few wounds on his body, you see no major injuries on the one who once killed your love.

"I thought by now he would have killed you in one of his infamously creative ways." You mock him as you try to ignore the sight of Eregion burning behind him.

"You don't even reach for your weapon? That's an insult, Mistress of Darkness." You shiver at the nickname, playing with the ring on your finger—the very one Sauron had given you—as you consider your answer.

Adar was barely alive. But he was still alive. You wonder how Sauron had retained enough restraint to give him a fate worse than death—watching someone he loved slowly die. In Adar’s case, he had watched his orc children die; in yours, you had watched Mairon die—a death you had been blind to for centuries.

"It is not my intention to fight you." You sigh tiredly, meeting the dark elf's gaze. Something in his demeanour changes. He is less alert, less tense, as if he sees in you the same surrender he had after the clash with your beloved.

"That's funny. I remember you swore one of the worst deaths to me for killing him." You leave his mockery unanswered as you recall that moment. You thought you would go mad with despair and throw yourself at Morgoth's crown, piercing your heart to be reunited with your beloved in the afterlife. With the benefit of hindsight, when you are wiser, you want to laugh at your own stupidity. He played you, your feelings, your mind, and your heart exactly as he wanted. You let him do all he wanted with you, and then you even thanked him for using you. "Has that day finally come? Are you abandoning him to his lust for power?"

The shock in his voice should offend you and drive you to the point of passion and true, unpredictable rage. But it can't. You feel... numb. Empty. Like nothing really matters anymore. And maybe it doesn't, since your soul and heart slowly wither with every second you're not near him.

Pathetic, how after pulling the dagger from your heart that was Sauron's "love," you miss the pain it brought. Even though you accept with relief that you're slowly bleeding to death, you still crave him. Maybe it really was an addiction? An unhealthy obsession that defined who you were? Because who were you really without Sauron?

"Is it really abandonment if he wants to stick with someone else?" You justify yourself, remembering the look in his eyes when he mentioned the elf you hated. You wonder what you envy more, her light or the fact that she truly seemed to have the undivided attention and adoration of a man you would do anything for?

"Galadriel…"

"No one good is ever truly good… and no one bad is ever truly bad." You interrupt him, not wanting to talk about the elf.

You walk over to him and nod for him to sit on the fallen tree trunk next to you. You muster up some mercy towards him (or your own troubled conscience) and staunch his wounds enough for him to pass away in peace... or at least you hope he will.

At least one of you deserved to find peace.

"Is that what you told yourself while being with him?" The silence between you is uncomfortable, but necessary. Necessary for you to realize how much he was really using you. And how much you wanted him to be someone he never was…

"Maybe." You admit quietly, in a barely audible whisper.

Before he can reach for the dagger at his side, you're already pulling away from him and taking his consciousness, putting him into a sleep state. You run, not catching up with yourself, slowing down only to wipe the tears dripping down your cheeks with the back of your hand. The cold metal of Sauron's ring scratches your skin in a painful reminder of your sins.

You pull the hood over your head, using the back of your hand to shake off the snow that had already accumulated as you made your way through the streets in the dark of the night.

It had been a few weeks since you had escaped from Sauron. Weeks spent avoiding his army of orcs, closing the doors to your thoughts to him, and controlling the connection he had created between you in the time you had spent with him.

He had been looking for you—whether out of revenge for your abandonment, longing for you, a desire to punish you and make an example of you, or all three—you didn't figure it out yet. What you did know was that Galadriel had kept her ring, sacrificing the nine, and that Sauron had been gathering his forces to "heal" Middle-Earth, searching every corner he had conquered in the process, looking for you.

But he wasn't the only one looking for you.

Galadriel and Adar had joined forces in the fight against Sauron. And the latter had tried persistently to convince you to stop watching the fight between them. The need to stay away from Sauron was one thing, but the actual thought of hurting him, of being the cause of his downfall… you didn't know if you could survive that. To be honest, you know you wouldn't.

And he knew that too.

That's why he often tried to break down the wall you had put up between you to appear in the form of an illusion. It was often in moments when you thought of him. You're certain you'll never forget the first time he took the opportunity to reach out to you through your connection.

You were lying on a small bed in the inn, staring blankly at the ceiling above you. You had managed to slaughter the orc troop that was chasing you and had made it safely into the city beyond the mountain pass where you had come across them. You didn't know if Sauron had ordered you brought to him dead or alive, but you didn't particularly want to find out just yet.

That's why, after each such "chase," you left behind a trail of orc blood and bodies, escaping to another hole to wait out the danger and re-emerge into the light of day only when he shifted his attention elsewhere. Like you did now.

You lay in the darkness of your miserable room, cursing yourself for not needing sleep like these mortals. How much would you give for your mind to be immersed in the bliss of not a single thought coming to it? To stop fighting and trying so hard to not think about him...

That night you were particularly tired, not only from the fight and the injury you had suffered but also from the whole escape, which had lasted for several weeks. It was nothing in your immortal, long life, but you found those days without him by your side tiring more than any. You wonder what was worse: separation from him or the hardships of escaping from him?

You can't help but wonder what he's doing now. Does he also lie idle, thinking of you? No. That wasn't his style. He'd probably be sitting in some fortress, surrounded by his servants, whom he despised, as he hatched his plans to heal Middle-Earth. A cure that was supposed to be a disease that had begun in him ages ago. That you couldn't see and cure in him.

"Rather miserable and shabby chambers for a queen." You shiver at the sound of his voice echoing through the small room.

You sit up unsteadily, staring at his figure leaning against the door. You blink a few times, convinced that he was a trick of your tired mind, but when he speaks again, you realise that he managed to slip through your barriers and answer your call while you were thinking about him. You had unknowingly dug a rabbit hole for him inside you. And he took advantage of it, crawling through it before you could block him.

"Although… I think this is a room fit for a treacherous queen."

His mockery shakes you out of your strange state of numbness. You stare at him, anger rising in your chest as you hear him accuse you of the one thing he had no right to.

"It is ironic to hear you, of all the creatures, accusing me of cheating, when I was the one who stood faithfully by your side all these years. Besides... you can't say that you didn't see that coming."

"Maybe I am as naive as my queen?" He replies, slowly walking over to you. You get out of bed, standing on the other side of it, desperately trying to put some distance between you.

"Which one? Forgive me, but I'm starting to get a little confused since you're calling so many women by that title." You say, sticking the pin where it hurts.

"Jealous of the elf?"He asks, raising an eyebrow mockingly at you.

"I didn't leave because of jealousy. You know that very well."

Honesty was always something he accepted... worse. He didn't like being vulnerable, showing his cards and saying what he really felt... that's why looks away and tries to change the subject.

"If you come back, I won't punish you too harshly… at least not in a way you don't like." You shiver as memories of your times together—those particularly intense ones, where all you could do was whisper or scream his name, as he destroyed you for anyone else in the sheets of your bed—run through your mind.

“Go back to what?”

"You promised to stand by me. To be my right hand." He responds, offended by the thought that you ask him such a question, that you don't know what awaits you, that he has to explain to you how grateful you should be that he will take you back without any problems.

"I am sure you will find many worthy replacements for me. For example, such a commander of elven forces…"

"I don't want Galadriel." He interrupts you with a sharp, cold tone, irritated that you're bringing up the subject of the elf. He starts to walk around the bed, wanting to get closer to you, and you take a few steps away from him with each one he comes with.

"Did you come to this conclusion before or after she rejected you?" You mock him, watching him closely. And you see perfectly on his face the moment his composure breaks.

After berely a blink of an eye later, he’s standing in front of you, grabbing you roughly by the shoulders and shoving you against the wall behind you. You fight his grip, struggling, trying to kick him, but he’s got both of your wrists in one hand and lifting them above your head, pressing his torso against yours.

"You are mine. I will kill anyone who says or thinks otherwise… including you." He growls in your ear and runs his nose over your temple. You take quick, ragged breaths as you give in to his illusion and his will, sensing his scent, the warmth, as if he were actually with you.

"I am not one of your rings. You can't put me on your finger and expect me not to slip off when you lose interest in me, to faithfully wait for your attention until you feel like playing with me again." You hiss angrily in his face and lift your legs, trying to kick him. He gasps, struggling to keep his grip on your wrists. After a moment, he grabs you roughly by the waist and pushes you onto the bed.

"Stop making this difficult. We both know how it will end. Go home. Before I will drag you to it." He warns you, glaring at you intensely as he steps closer to you. You raise your leg to kick him in the chest, but he catches your ankle, grounding you.

"I have no home. You made sure of that." You growl at him, trying to yank your leg out of his grip, but he won't let you. He takes a step towards you and braces your leg over his shoulder. He presses his lips to your ankle, sending a shiver right up your spine.

"I am your husband..."

"I don't remember you swearing any oaths to me." You respond angrily, yanking your leg out of his grip as he presses kisses along your ankle and lower. You can't let him have enough space to play his tricks and seduce you to get you on his side again.

"It is enough that you have given me one. You cannot break it."

"In the eyes of the Valar we do not exist anyway. We have no souls. So why should I keep the promises made by that part of me that died long ago, buried by your own hand, Mairon?" The use of his true name somehow unsettles him, causing his mask of composure to crumble for a moment. You see in his eyes as old memories of the two of you flash through his mind—when you both bathed in the light of the Valar, when he was just your Mairon. "Forgive me... Sauron."

He recoils from you as if scalded when he hears the hateful tone in your voice as you speak his other name—the one given to him by Morgoth. You see him tremble when it feels from your lips like a foul curse. You give him one of your coldest, most cruel looks, and you almost crumble in your resolve to keep him away from you when you see him shake his head gently, allowing himself a moment of weakness with you.

"You knew perfectly well what I had become… after Morgoth."

"I did. What I didn't realize was that you would want to remain his shadow forever." You respond with bitterness and stare at him with resentment equal to the one he accused you of abandoning him… but how could you stay with him when he hurt you more than anyone else had before?

"I am not his shadow. I am my own master. This... this is who I am."

"Then this is not the man I promised myself to." Your words hurt him. He may not show it in a big way, but you can see it in the way his jaw clenches a little harder after your statement.

"But this is a man you've bonded yourself to. Til the end of the time and much longer after that." He reminds you, never taking his piercing, cold gaze off you.

"Or until one of us is forever gone." There’s another long silence after your statement, this time more tense. You swallow hard, watching in the piercing silence, broken only by your loud heartbeat, as he takes in the meaning of your words. And you can clearly say that he doesn’t like them at all.

"You can't kill me. You won't. You can't. You care too much."

"I know. I meant something else."

At those words, something inside him snaps. He stops controlling you completely. Before you can blink, he's straddling you. You struggle against his grip, fighting him with everything you have, but he pins you down to the bed with all his strength, not letting you move away from him for even an inch.

"If you do… I will pull you from the land of the dead, find your soul, and make you suffer more than Morgoth ever did to us. You will not leave me… not you… if you do not return to me…"

"What will you do? Burn whole Middle-Earth? Destroy me? You've already done that or are about to do it." You growl, digging your nails into his wrists as he tries to lock your hands back in his iron grip. You whine, in pain and shock, as he bites into your shoulder, effectively distracting you so he can overpower you. "Unlike you, I have nothing to lose, my king."

Your mockery only fuels his anger. You gasp as he pushes his knee between your legs, creating a space for himself. Before you can even react, he leans down and captures your lips in a punishing, bruising kiss, as if it were some form of punishment for you - a punishment created by him specifically for his pleasure.

"I will find you… I will find you, and bind you to myself with golden shackles if necessary." He mumbles against your lips, cupping your cheek in his hand.

He presses his thigh against your core, teasing your shamefully dripping pussy for him, asserting his dominance over you. As if to reassure himself that he still has some kind of control over you.

"I'll rip my heart out before you lay even the tip of your littlest finger on me again." You promise him, but it seems unlikely considering the way you grind against his thigh, desperate to get away from him yet unable to do anything but endure his treatment.

"Then I will lay at your feet the heads of everyone who has caused you to leave me. Their lives, the lives of everyone in Middle-Earth, and their blood will be stained your hands."

You can’t help but moan as his fingers find their way to your cunt and pinch it. You bite your lip until it bleeds as he pushes two of his fingers inside you, stretching the tight walls of your pussy for him once more.

"They already do. Since the day I brought you back... since the day I followed you and supported you. Since the day I naively fell into your arms believing that I meant as much to you as you did to me. Since then I have had your sins on my shoulders." You mumble, digging your fingers into his arms as he is tirelessly working on your pleasure.

"If what I feel for you is not love, then I don't know what it feels like."

And then you almost give in to him, almost surrender, wanting to believe his sweet words, wanting to believe that he is actually capable of loving you sincerely, that all those centuries spent by his side were not a waste of time at all.

Almost. Because you realize he is much wiser in the art of deceiving everyone around him than you will ever be.

You sigh as he removes his fingers and instead teases your entrance with the tip of his cock. And even though you know better than to give in to him like that, you can't stop or push him away—too eager for his touch after so long apart to do the right thing.

Instead, you let yourself be submerged in his perfectly tailored illusion of him thrusting into you, glad that he's not actually with you in the flesh, because then you'd fail completely to him once again. In your mind, you find a twisted excuse for your actions and grab his hair hard, sinking your fingers into the perfectly coiffed bow and tugging on it as he pounds into you at an unforgiving pace.

"You will regret this. When I put a crown on you made of your blood and the blood of our enemies, you will regret having abandoned me. I will make you my ornament, my prize, a pretty thing on my arm. Then you will understand how I treat my toys." You whine as each sentence he says ends with him thrusting harder and harder into you.

You close your eyes and bite your lip, trying to keep from making too many sounds, but it doesn’t meet with his approval. He wraps a warning hand around your neck, pressing down just a little as he forces you to look him in the eyes.

You feel the heat spreading across your chest, the ragged breaths that leave your lungs a reward that makes him redouble his efforts, abusing your poor, overstimulated body, forcing sweet whimpers and moans out of you over and over for his pleasure.

"The thing is... you've always treated me this way. Maybe we're both blind—me for seeing it too late and you for thinking you did me a favour by letting me love you endlessly when I got nothing in return."

"I have always adored you." He quickly denies it, telling you another well-practiced lie.

"Did you?" You ask, grabbing his chin firmly. He freezes for a moment, staring at you without saying a word, too surprised that you're still trying to defy him. "Look me in the eyes and tell me it was always me. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would give it all up for me. Look me in the eyes and tell me it was all in my head—that I got your intentions wrong somehow, that instead of celebrating my love, you didn't take it for granted and started craving power more than my love. Look me in the eyes and tell me you would choose me over a hundred rings. I dare you. Show me your alleged love."

You hold your breath, waiting impatiently for his response. For the first time, you realise that you're seeing him without any words. He's staring at you, shocked and frozen, trying to get something out of his mouth.

You laugh bitterly, still with him deep inside you, as he proves to you exactly what you suspected, exactly what you didn't want to see all these years. He didn't truly love you. He never did.

"Get out of my mind. Have enough decency and mercy for my tormented heart and leave me alone." You beg him shakily, allowing yourself to show so much weakness. You close your eyes tightly, stopping any tears from spilling out as the painful truth hits you.

"I can't." He spits it out reluctantly, admitting, probably for the first time in a long time, honestly to you.

Sauron wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing you painfully against him. He digs his fingers into your arms, as if to make sure you don't break free from his grip. He presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes, taking a shuddering breath.

"Come back. Just come back."

You're not used to seeing him like this. To seeing him... lost, begging for something, being not the one in control. You close your eyes, letting your tears mingle with his—the ones that are dripping onto your cheek from his.

"To watch you tolerate my love again?" You spit at him angrily, and he shakes his head slightly. He removes his forehead from yours and cups your cheek gently in his hand, caressing it as he forces you to look at him again.

"To watch me make everyone in all Middle-Earth fall at your feet and worship you."

"I only want your adoration… it's a pity you're not able to give it to me honestly."

"Y/N... please." He tries one last time, pressing his lips to yours, stealing the words you wanted to use against him. You gasp into his desperate kiss as he begins to move his hips again, tearing you, your soul, and your body in half.

"It was not me who left us in ruins… you have no right… you have no right to ask or beg me for anything." You whine, letting your tears fall down your cheeks.

His plush lips kiss off each tear as he continues to desperately hold you, thrusting into you as if he can redeem himself through his sweet words and the pleasure he brings you.

"Y/N." He whispers desperately, pleadingly, as he brings the two of you closer and closer to climax, despite how reluctant you are to accept him inside you.

He craves your touch, your tenderness, and your warmth. He has to have you back; he can't imagine a world without you; he can't imagine you by anyone else's side but him. And if he has to burn all of Middle-Earth and take you against your will, then he will.

He will do anything to make you see again that you belong together, that he worships you—maybe not to the extent you expect, but as madly and devotedly as his black rotten heart can handle.

"Get out of my mind, you deceiver."

"You… of all people… don't call me that… at least not you." He mumbles against your temple, pressing his lips there.

Every little whisper, every tender touch is just another dose of poison—poison you thought you were already healed from. But in that little moment between you, he reminded you so clearly of the power he has over you and how strong he is. Because even knowing what he is like, you couldn't fight the pull between you. That's why you had to stay away from him. For your own good.

The moment you both fall apart, reaching your peaks, you focus your power and throw him out of your mind, slamming the door shut with a bang. You breathe deeply, tiredly, as the connection between you weakens, even as you feel him hammering with all his might against the gates to your mind you’ve closed. You allow yourself a moment of shuddering sobs, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself and holding on, rocking back and forth on the bed to somehow calm your shattered emotions.

You’d forgotten how strong his illusions could be and how gracefully he could mess with the minds of others, passing off his thoughts to them as their own. You begin to wonder how much of you was really there and how much of the emotion you felt was really coming from him.

You decide you don't want to know.

You quickly gather yourself to set off on your journey, convinced that he has caught your scent and is already in pursuit of you. And you are not wrong. A few hours later, you watch in the distance as the village you stopped at burns under fire and the feet of orcs. At least he has not lied to you about this one thing.

He will burn the world to get to you.

You shiver, coming back to the present as a cold blade is pressed to your neck. You glance at the weapon and frown, recognizing Adar's black blade.

"I thought you wanted to meet like civilized beings?"

"As if you or I could be one." He whispers in your ear. You manoeuvre his hand and push him away from you, throwing him against the wall behind him and pulling out your blade. You aim it at him, watching him carefully.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to specify which side you are on." You laugh mockingly at the demand coming from him. He had definitely become too arrogant over the centuries he had managed to live through. Perhaps you should remind the fallen elf of his place…

"The answer has not changed since we last saw each other. I am on the only side that is right for me in this little war between you, Galadriel, and him. On my own."

"He wants you. And he won't rest until he gets you. You know that." You frown at his words, not at all appreciating the conversation about your former lover. The lover who continued to pursue you tirelessly despite how many times you had escaped the clutches of his orc army.

"And so?"

"We both know you will succumb to him the moment you come within his reach again. And Galadriel and I cannot have that. If you join him… the world will burn in the fires of his creation."

"It is already burning in the fires of its furious search for me." You growl, blocking the attack he launches at you just as you try to move away from him. You land a few blows, which he successfully blocks, but not as effortlessly as he would like.

"This flame we are able to control. The question is for how long?"

"You know very well that I will not join him of my own free will."

"Just enough to also know that he won't give you a choice once he catches you. Together you are too dangerous. So one of you must die."

"And you want it to be me?" You ask with a mocking smile on your face, ignoring the cold shiver that ran through you.

He was right. Partly. It seemed logical to destroy one of you since you were connected to Sauron. By getting rid of one, you take away some of the power from the other. And since you didn't seem like a particularly great threat, they wanted to remove you from the picture.

"I'd prefer it to be Sauron, but since you leave me no choice… I don't care whose dead bodies I step over to bring about his eternal end."

"Oh you showed this very well by sacrificing your so-called children." You mock him, pleased when you manage to hurt him in a vulnerable spot.

He attacks you harder this time, actually forcing you to block his sword. You push him away from you, moving to the next street, one that leads out more to the outskirts of the village, where you could see the nearby forest.

"I don't want you to die. But I will kill you if I have to." He growls, thrusting forward, trying his best to cut your skin with his blade.

Adar posed no threat to you. Yet you knew you would not be able to avoid their efforts to kill you for long. Eventually you would have to choose a side. But you feared your battered heart had not yet healed enough to make the best decisions for yourself.

"Then you will make him win. He'll have nothing to lose after my death. Literally nothing. And you know perfectly well what a desperate man will do, don't you, Adar?"

"Make him fall… or fall before him."

"What should I do? Return to his side and be your spy? Do you think he won't notice that I won't sense the trick? Or that I won't change my mind? He knows my mind. He will see over this little lie."

"But he doesn't know your heart." You can't stop the slight twitch of your facial muscles—a sign of weakness that he quickly spits out and greets with a dark, mocking smile of victory.

"I don't have one anymore." You answer without emotion, knowing that it is partly true. Part of your heart had been cut out, and what was left of it was no longer fit to function like it once did. Sauron made sure of it.

"That's why I trust you in terms of making him disappear once and for all." An unpleasant shiver runs through you, and a strange feeling of unease settles heavy in your chest at his words. The thought of killing him, of being part of the cause of his death, isn't... as liberating as it should be. Which scares you a little bit.

But before you can say anything, agree or reject his proposal by mocking him, you hear the howl of a warg coming from the nearby forest. And that could only mean one thing…

"You fucking traitor." You growl at Adar and charge at him. He deliberately delayed you, allowing the orc scouts to catch up with you.

Instead of thinking about escaping, you think about how to hurt him the most. That's why you want to show him what happened to his children. You're both in the middle of the fight when the first orc units reach you. They throw themselves at you as well as at their father, with the difference that none of them dares to raise a weapon at you. They have a clear mission. To catch you and take you to their master. The rest of the world was of lesser importance to Sauron.

Unfortunately, Adar manages to escape the battlefield. If you weren't busy killing orcs, you'd mock what a coward he is, since he can't face what he once loved and cared for. On the other hand, unfortunately, you understand him. You realise this when, in this sudden commotion, amidst blood both black and red, the fire from the torched village, the screams of men, and the army of orcs, you see him.

Sauron. Halbrand. Annatar. Mairon. He had many names. And many faces. You wonder if you ever got to know his real one.

But you won't let me win that easily. That's why when your eyes meet his, you run in the opposite direction. He's not calling you. He's not stupid enough to think that you'll come to him of your own free will. That's why you run, not even turning to see if he's following you. Because you know perfectly well that if you focus your senses enough, you'll feel his breath on the back of your neck.

Running into the ruins of the forest, you know you have no escape route. They burnt everything and buried every possible hiding place, leaving only fire and darkness behind. Strangely, you didn't pay any attention to it. You wonder if your ignorance stems from the far worse things you've already seen while at Sauron's side or if you've simply stopped paying attention to things that don't directly concern you.

Your heart beats madly as you hear his footsteps behind you, and you feel him trying to simultaneously cage you in his arms and break through the barrier you've put up in your mind.

In your flight from him, you fail to notice how he manipulates your surroundings, masking his protruding crotch with his illusion. You stumble, giving him just enough time to catch up to you.

You fight him, trying to break through his armour with your dagger, but he doesn’t let you squirm under him for long. He knocks the weapon out of your hands, catching your wrists in a tight grip and lifting them above your head. He lets you fight his clinging grip for a moment longer, staring at you intently, drinking in all the changes in you since he last saw you. And you can’t stop your heart from beating a little faster at the sight of him.

"Are you done?" He asks you mockingly, piercing you through with his icy gaze.

"I don't know yet." You pant, still exhausted from running away from him and fighting him. You try to kick him with your legs and push him off of you, but he holds his ground above you, his body pinning you to the dead ground beneath you.

"I can go on like this for eternity." He warns you, bored, as if he hadn’t spent all those nights over the past century searching for you, cursing your name as you slipped through his fingertips each time he was close to catching you.

"Me too." You growl at him angrily, renewing your attempts to defeat him with even more furious passion.

You managed to surprise him enough to somehow crawl out from under his grip. You push him away and stand up to keep running, but he grabs your ankle and pulls you back to him. And before you can react, his mouth is on yours, devouring you in the most ravenous, unholy way possible—taking your breath away, any thought that was going to cross your mind.

You can't help but moan into his mouth. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, ravaging you even more with each movement of his tongue against yours. He cups your cheeks in his hands, making sure you don't pull away from his kiss. He presses his body against yours with a groan, as he is finally able to properly sink into the feeling of your lips, warmth, and scent.

He can't count how many sleepless nights he spent thinking about you. It was pathetic, how frustrated he felt, how he had to meet his needs on his own, while sinful images of you—precious memories he held onto—tempted him and distracted him from his main mission.

But he finally had you. And he'd be damned if he'd ever let you walk away from his watchful gaze again.

"Lord Sauron we have taken over…" The orc who was supposed to give him the message couldn't even finish his sentence as Sauron sent one of his blades towards him.

You could hear his dead body fall to the ground a little further away from you as Sauron hungrily, open-mouthed, moved along the column of your neck with his lips, placing wet kisses, leaving hickies and bite marks all the way down to your clothed chest—marking you as his property once again.

"You killed him."

"I have many of them. And only one of you." He doesn't even have the decency to care about your accusation and stop kissing every tiny inch of your skin he can reach. You sigh, trying to pull away from him, but with each tender kiss he places against your skin, it becomes more and more difficult.

"It's exactly the same with your rings, and yet this rule doesn't apply when it comes to them."

"Don't start." He mumbles and pinches your side in warning. You give him a hurt, angry look, and he just chuckles darkly, thug-like. It's one of the rare times you see him so... relaxed and carefree, without any worries or plans nagging at him, when all he wants to do is lose himself in you.

"I should have killed you ages ago. Or myself. Or both of us." You mumble as his fingers begin to work on the laces of your blouse. He presses a kiss to your cheek, completely ignoring your small threats as he cups your breast in his hand and begins to fondle it. You hiss as he plays with your nipples, and you involuntarily tangle your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you.

"And I should punish you for leaving me, but yet here I am, worshiping my queen." "We need each other. You know that. So stop fighting it." He whispers into the crook of your neck, continuing to pepper it with kisses. With your other hand, you reach for the dagger at your side and, taking advantage of its looseness, press the metal against the back of his neck.

"You may have needed me… but I never needed you."

"Lier." He growls, not moving an inch, waiting to see if you dare to pierce his skin and draw his black blood, or if you will finally give in to your wild desire, fuelled by a century of your running away from him.

"Deceiver." You respond just as furious, and you roughly push his head away from you so you can look him in the eye. He licks his lips, watching the furious look in your eyes, a raging storm of both lust and rage.

"A damn good couple, don't you think?" He asks, raising an eyebrow at you. You bite your lip, staring at him, your grip on the dagger tightening as you lightly trace the line of hair at the nape of his neck with the tip of the blade, still hesitating.

"It's them or you. From the rain to the gutter."

"But only at my side will you become queen." He entices you and puts his hand around your neck, forcing you to lift your chin and meet his intense gaze.

"Queen of nothing." You comment, emphasizing the last word with a glance at the empty, scorched earth around you.

"My queen." He corrects you. He gently removes his hand from your body and reaches for the back of his head—where you still have an iron grip on his hair. You freeze when you feel him slide his little breast onto your free finger.

"This time we will be equal. Or I will bring doom upon us both."

And though your warning sends an unpleasant shiver of alarm through him, he ignores it completely. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising, passionate kiss, and can't help but smile as he hears and feels you drop the dagger to the ground.

"I think I can work with that." He mumbles against your mouth, throwing himself at you like a starving man looking for a warm meal.

You idly trace patterns on his back with your fingers, carefully considering your next move. For now, you'll let him think he's placated you and that he's on your good side again.

And in time, when he once again takes your devotion for granted—and you're convinced he will—you'll seize the opportunity against him. You'll be the queen of nothing. And you'll do it without a king by your side. If he can't celebrate your love, then you don't have to accept his rule.

This time you will be the one to tolerate his affection for you.

[weclassygirl]

bewitched

⋆˙⟡ sauron x fem!elf!reader (witch) ⟡˙⋆

summary: years of hidden yearning and need and a night to remember

warnings: smut (fingering, semi public) light choking, slight voyeurism kink, exhibitionism

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: had to add it in before a real work begins (my first smut so...). they needed it for sure or they would have done it in front of Celebrimbor once they couldn't take the tension anymore. enjoy! (previous part -> scheme)

It was rare to see him like that, in his element, focused only on his work. You found yourself captivated how he moves around the workshop, how Celebrimbor valued his work. The forge worked day and night, trying to work with mithril, each smith has made their suggestion, offered every metal known to the peoples of Middle-Earth and yet none of them wished to connect with the stone.

They work for weeks, an attempt is made at stretching out mithril but with no desired result. A crown for the High King became a task kindred to that of creation of the Silmarils. You’ve worked nearly without rest, aiding in empowering the precious metal, Celebrimbor notices your vigor and the way Halbrand moved with ease around you, like two flames lit up to reach the same purpose. He would propose any idea his mind came up with to Celebrimbor and then to you, always to you. 

The Lord of Eregion found it unusual how quickly the two of you made connection, after all these years you’ve opened up to someone and he wasn’t even an Elf. He did not interfere in this, you seemed to work better because of Halbrand, even if it was possible. 

He came to you each night, overseeing your progress in your craft closely, being in a physical form made the contact easier. You couldn’t be by his side all the time, people would have noticed, he found moments he could talk with you, not about his plans or your craft. A simple conversation shared by two people with the same ambitions.

You’ve known him for years and yet he came up with ways to surprise you. You were glad he was in Eregion, not the shadow in your mind, you felt yourself drawn to him and he to you. Like, call to like.

His enthusiasm for work showed, a bit too much for your liking sometimes. You’ve seen Galadriel sneaking around Eregion, conversing with the librarians, which made you uneasy. 

Something was wrong.

You saw him by the pond, a long day of work visible in his eyes, the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Only a dim light illuminated him but you could still see his brow adorned by dust and shards of metal and you wondered how long he would look like this. A mortal man, handsome in his own right, who wouldn’t fall for his charm? 

The feeling in your gut lingered, his identity was bound to be discovered. He knew you worried and assured you that he had a plan.

“And what if it fails?” you ask as you come down the steps. Many would have stopped being his collaborator, but not you, not when you’ve been by his side for so many years, whether at first you hated the very thought.

“Do you truly think so little of me?” he counters.

You huff, this man… “I think that it is a risk, staying here longer than you need to. This…” you gesture toward his appearance “will not fool everyone. They will notice.”

He steps closer and places his fingers under your chin, he likes to see you try and tear your sight away from his. He knows that you’re not the one to walk away from a challenge.

“With time, they will see and believe whatever I want them to.” he pulls away but the feeling of his fingers lingers.

“How long do you plan to retain this form?” you ask. He tilts his head and looks down at his clothes and hands.

“Is it not to your liking?” 

“I didn’t say that.” you tease. You look over the trees to the towers. “Eregion is the realm of the Elven smiths not men. You're a King, they’d expect you to be with your people.” he takes your hand, the illusion from it lifted in the comfort of his presence. He traces the scar absentmindedly.

“And would my queen join me?”

Queen… He never called you that before. “We’re not bound.” you remind him.

“And yet the idea entices you, after all these years.” he lets go of your hand and places his on your shoulder. “Shame to let it go to waste.” 

“Why not have it all for yourself?” you ask genuinely. He could have it all, Middle-Earth, all of the races under his rule. His hand snakes up to your cheek, making you look up at him again.

“I’ll burden myself with the crown and let you cherish in the light of it. No one to command or put you through suffering again.” 

“On my deathbed.” you whisper as he leans closer, his breath on your neck making you shiver. 

“I’d prefer little death slipping from your mouth.” 

Despite your defiance, you lean into his touch as his lips place kisses on your neck and for a moment you believe it to be an illusion, another vision conjured up by him, far away from your reach. He reminds you of the realness of this moment when his hand cups your jaw and closes the distance between you. 

You’d make a fool of yourself if you pushed him away, especially when he’s been on your mind for so many years. He would have reveled if he knew the many sleepless nights you’ve spent trying to get rid of the revenant feeling of his touch. How with every disappearance from your chambers you longed for nothing more than to ask him, beg him to stay. Perhaps he knew with how he looked at you right now, eyes dark with desire, his lips slightly swollen from the kiss. 

You push him back onto the stone bench, his hands wander to pick up as much fabric as they can when you straddle him. He grabs the back of your neck to crash your lips onto his, you bite at his lips, wanting more and accidentally draw blood. He pulls away and swipes his thumb over the cut, black blood spreading over his lip. He looks up at you and brings the thumb to your lips, he brushes against them once until you open your mouth and lick away the blood from his finger. The sight would have sent him to the Undying Lands that very moment, but he couldn’t part just yet until he had his fill of you. 

His hands slither under your dress, his touch like fire lingering on your skin. Carved by Morgoth and worshipped at Sauron’s hands. He takes your hand in his and kisses each darkened finger, his lips linger on the scarred one. 

“I take it it’s to your liking then.” he teases and you grab his jaw, his stubble softly digging into your skin.

“Your shadowed form was quite pleasing as well.” you retort and kiss him once more. You’d let him swallow you whole, let him corrupt you even further just to have him near you. 

He hand slips between you two and dips into you, the intrusion welcomed as you draw a breath between your lips. The bundle of nerves that ached for him, falls apart at the simplest touch. Your head tilts back as he withdraws his fingers only to push them back in, his rhythm increasing slowly, he would not have you out of his grip yet. 

Your cunt clenches around him when he adds another finger and Sauron grabs at your throat, putting the smallest pressure that could bring you to the edge. He chuckles as he watches you, his lips kiss up your throat.

“So willing.” he taunts and you return from your bliss state at his words. Your hand sneaks under his robe to return the favor, he groans as you grab his cock, your hand moving in time with his fingers deep in your cunt. 

There’s a wicked smile tugging at your lips and he wishes nothing more to let you have your way with him. He knows he’s done for as he takes your appearance, breathless and wanton. 

A witch that bewitched his body and soul. 

You gasp when he pushes away the fabric covering your breasts, his mouth dives to devour. Black Speech slips from your mouth when he pulls at your nipple and oh, how cherishes the sound. He taught you it, even if you picked it up from the Orcs guarding your cell in Forodwaith. 

“Fuck.” you breathe out as his hand picks up its pace and another tugs at your nipples. You moan against his neck when your hand on his cock begins to falter, to blissed out to form a coherent sentence. You kiss up his neck and move to brush your lips against his. 

The night settles over Eregion and he wishes to stay in this moment, create an illusion of the two of you to roam and work in Eregion while he fucks you endlessly in your chambers. Your mind drifts again but is snapped to reality when the two of you hear people approaching. You pull away but his fingers stay inside you, his pace dying down but not fully.

“Mairon.” you warn him and a corner of his lips lifts up. 

You never called him Sauron, the Abhorred, and he was grateful.

The chatter grows and you feel a soft wind around you, Sauron’s hand continues its ministrations. You realize he’s cast an illusion over the two of you. To anyone looking it would appear as if the two of you were having a simple conversation on the bench. Any wiser would see a scandalous scene and you wish you could see their reaction. 

You recognize them, the smiths you worked closely over the years, they call out your name. “Still awake?”

You nearly curse Sauron when he adds another finger. You try your best to respond under the illusion. “Yes.” 

“Discussing new ideas.” he adds and flicks over your bud with his thumb. You nearly smack him but the pleasure is too great for you to care. 

You’re too far gone to continue the meaningless conversation, Sauron takes over your voice until the smiths leave. Your hand squeezes him ever slightly, moving faster with each stroke and he grabs your hair. 

“Careful, witch.” his threat is interrupted by the moan that follows. You smile mischievously, oh how you could just stop the time to feel him bring you to your pleasure over and over again. 

“Would you let them see?” you question against his lips. You on display as he laps at your folds and sets a relentless pace with his cock buried deep inside you. Doing whatever he pleases with you, whatever you wish to do with him.

His pace quickens and you spiral close to your release. His breathing becomes labored with each pump of your hand. 

“I would make them wish they were you.” his words set you ablaze as you spill around his fingers. You moan into his mouth, body shuddering with release and he does not let go until your body completely gives out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck when his fingers leave you and immediately miss the feeling. 

He brings up his fingers to your mouth and lets you taste yourself from them. You lick them clean like a starved woman and the sight arouses him even more, his cock straining against his robes again. He licks up your hand, swallowing every last drop, truly worthy of each other.

He lifts you up from him and kneels before you, you arch your eyebrow when he lifts your dress once more. His tongue darts out to clean every drop that has not coated his fingers, the heat pools inside you as he slowly laps at your folds. You arch your back, in too fucked state to form a coherent sentence. His hands travel back to your breasts and you whimper in pleasure.

You feel your second orgasm coming in waves and he lets you ride it out on his face, gladly cleaning you up again. His moans reverberate against you, Black Speech on his tongue as he praises you. You look down at him as he comes up, your need for him still growing but you hold yourself back, you’ll have him completely another day. 

There’s no turning back now.

He kisses your neck, jaw, cheek and finally lips. Your tongue makes its way into his mouth, his passion burning brighter with each touch. Years you’ve longed for this and won’t feel satisfied until you have him all.

“Bind yourself to me.” he whispers against your lips and you consider this time. He brushes away strands of your hair and you melt into his touch when it lands on your cheek. 

“Not yet.” you respond, the words he so often spoke to you when the matter was brought up. You knew that if you did and he was no longer within your reach you would have gone mad. He would have loved to see the havoc you would wreak in his name.

You lean closer to him as he kneels before you. Your hand cups his jaw before pulling it to you. Your words a threat and a promise.

“Make sure your path to glory doesn’t lead to a grave and I will.”

He smiles. 

You were perfect.

next part --> wonders

[pursuitseternal]

🩸✨Smut Asks ✨🩸

To celebrate over 1500 followers, I’m opening up my inbox just for you all. Fill up my Ask Box with your dirty little desires. Anon asks are fine. Pick a prompt number and a pairing, and I will do my best to oblige:

Pairings: (specific Ascended or Spawn)

✨Astarion x f!Tav/Durge ✨ Astarion x Reader ✨ Astarion x Shadowheart ✨ Astarion x Halsin ✨ Astarion x Raphael 😈Raphael x reader 💍 Sauron x Galadrield 💍 Sauron x Reader 🩸Vampire x reader 🐺 Werewolf x reader

Prompts:

1. “Save the begging for when I’m balls deep inside you…”

2. “Do your worst”

3 “I want to please you.”

4. “Oh, I love that sound you make.”

5. “If we weren’t in public right now…”

6. “I told you, you would eventually start begging.”

7. "Can you feel how much I want you?"

8. "I want to ruin you."

9. "We don't even have to take our clothes off."

10. "Make me shut up then."

11. "I will give that mouth something to do."

12. "Your moans are my favourite sound."

13. “No more, please, I can’t”

14. “Where are your manners?”

15. “If you stop, I’ll stop”

16. “Turn around.”

17. “You look so pretty on your knees.”

18. “Can you tell me what you did wrong?”

19. “You’re all mine” - “hm…” - “say it” - “I’m all yours.”

20. “Use my thigh.”

[marimosalad]

Happy horny Saturday evening 😇

Full uncensored image on AO3 (VERY NSFW — you’ve been warned!) Smut and non-smut will be posted there on an irregular basis.

As always — be kind to the fic writers, drop them some encouragement if you liked their work! Part of what I want to do is to support the writers and thank them for their talented work with some smut art that have been inspired by the people of this fandom. (The other part is because I just want to draw two hot people doing hot naughty things. 🫠)