#mairon: the one you wanna run away with?

[winds-of-zephyr416]

The part of the Silm they don’t want you to know about: Melkor’s horrible, awful, no-good pickup lines.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi! Could I please request Mairon x reader with the prompts: “i promise I’ll be good” and “i wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it” with the spicy level of 🔥🔥🔥 or whatever the maximum is?

Maximum, you say. Alrighty then.

*Cracks knuckles*

“In the office”

Pairing: Modern Mairon x Fem. reader (human | second person POV)

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Kissing | Fingering | Dirty Talk | Public sex | Explicit language | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Word Count: 1.9K words

Summary: Disturbing Mairon while he’s busy leads to other things.

Rating:  🔥🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.

Mairon had been working late again. He had to finish a report before a meeting at the end of the week. He was stressed. It showed in his narrowed eyes, in how he kept rubbing his temples. This meeting and the sheer importance of it all had been gnawing at him and driving him to distraction. Even the figures in the papers he held in his hands started to swim before his eyes. He needed a break, a chance to get some of the tension out of him, but he did not know how to do it. After what seemed like hours, the opportunity to do so presented itself with a knock on his office door. 

"Come in," he said with impatience. Words and numbers were now starting to blur together. He took it as a sign to stop.

You peeked in, not at all surprised by his reaction. Mairon became the world's biggest grouch when he was stressed out and frustrated. 

"Bad night?" You said and slipped in, closing the door behind you.

"Bad everything." Mairon groaned and ran his hands through his hair, messing it all up. "These reports are going to be the death of me."

You crossed the length of Mairon's office, your heels clicking against the floor. You moved behind him and threw your arms over his shoulders. Mairon was in desperate need of a distraction—something to take his mind off of work. 

"Can I help?" You purred and nuzzled his neck. His skin still smelled of aftershave. "I would love to help."

Mairon's body tingled. When you ran your lips over his earlobe, he shivered. He sighed and closed his eyes. It was good. What you were doing to him was so good. His hand brushed against a paper, and his eyes flew wide open. 

"I need to finish this." Mairon picked up the report again while you were busy undoing the knot of his tie. "Can you wait?"

"No." A sense of mischief came over you. It was nine, and the building was nearly empty. The floor of Mairon's offices was desolate. There was no one to see or hear or disturb either of you. And how that gave you ideas! "I can't wait. And you are stressed out. Let me take care of you."

Your offer would have been music to his ears another time and welcomed with eager hands. Mairon wanted to take a rain check and finish his work. 

"As much as I love your offer," he said, "I must finish this. Can you wait, babe?"

"I said no." Determined, you loosened his tie and let it fall to the floor. His shirt had to follow. One by one, a button came undone under your fingers. You made slow work of drawing his shirt out of the way. "And I will not wait. It's clear you're stressed and need some relief. Let me help."

Mairon shivered when cool air danced over his exposed skin. He moaned, the sound low in his throat, when your hands glided down his exposed torso. He wanted to say yes and let you help him forget work for a moment. But the meeting-

"I can't." He pulled away and tried to focus. The feeling of your hands running down his chest made it difficult for him to do so. "I need to work."

"Please!" You whined softly and pouted when he turned to look at you. "Please let me help. Please. Please. Please."

Mairon chuckled and shook his head. "I said no, precious. Now let me work, or you will make me mad."

You ignored him and nibbled his earlobe again, your finger tracing a lazy line around his nipple. He trembled, and the file in his hand fell to the table. His muscles quivered beneath your fingers. When you pinched not too gently, he growled and rose with a start. His work can wait. He, on the other hand, could not. 

"Determined little thing, aren't you?" Mairon pushed his chair out of the way. You grinned and backed away, not stopping until he had you up against the window. 

"Yes." You tilted your chin at him defiantly. His golden eyes burned with need, and you wanted to stoke those flames more. "Yes, I am. Now what are you going to do about it?"

Mairon inched his way closer until he had you caged between him and the glass. The surface was smooth but cold. You felt it through your clothes. He leaned in and whispered, "I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it."

You hummed softly and looked up at him. Mairon was serious. You swallowed and looked over your shoulder. There were buildings all over. Most of them had windows with the blinds up. Those walking into empty offices will see everything Mairon was doing to you. The thought frightened you. At the same time, you found the concept of being seen very, very thrilling. 

"What's stopping you then?" You challenged him. 

Mairon grinned triumphantly. "Eager. I like it. First, I must remind you what happens when you disturb me and refuse to let me finish my work. Go over to the table and bend over."

It was an order and not a request. You eyed the table, fully aware of what was about to happen. Mairon harrumphed and rolled up his sleeves.

"Do not make me wait, precious," he growled in warning. "Go on."

Heat pooled in your core, and you flushed despite yourself. Giddy anticipation took root and grew when you nodded and willingly went over to the table. You bent over the table and propped yourself on your hands. Mairon came over, slowly and deliberately. His hand glided up your thigh when he reached you.

"Those jeans do look good on you," he said approvingly, eyeing how the fabric clung to your legs and revealed just as much as it concealed. "Now. Are you ready?"

You readied yourself. "Yes."

"How many?"

"Four."

A large hand glided over your thigh again. "Count each one out for me." 

You counted out each strike to your ass. Each spank sent a jolt shooting through you. Your breath hitched, and his name rolled off your lips in a whisper. Mairon heard it. His name. Just his. It was enough to make him hard. 

"On the table." Mairon unfastened his belt and flung it to the floor. The buckle clanged when it hit the ground. He swept his reports and papers to the side, paying no mind to those that fell to the ground with a flutter. "And get out of those jeans. Now."

You slipped out of your shoes and shimmied out of your jeans. Before you could do anything else, Mairon closed the distance and crushed your lips with his. Hands that were hungry and demanding were all over you. Lips that were desperate and greedy kissed you until you were a trembling mess beneath him. Mairon shoved his hand down the band of your panties and yanked. The silken whisps tore apart and allowed him to touch you even more. You moaned into his kiss when he cupped you and toyed with your clit. 

"Wet for me already." Mairon groaned when your legs slid open and hooked around his hips. The tip of his tongue flicked against yours each time he kissed you. You threw your arms around his shoulders, your nail digging into the cotton of his shirt when his thumb slid inside you. Mairon's breath was hot against your cheek. His free hand hooked around your waist, holding you close to him. The feeling of his thumb moving in slow, rhythmic thrusts and creating delicious friction was enough to make you hum softly. Your muscles started to coil. The room grew hot and cozy, and your breath grew ragged.

Mairon abruptly pulled away. His eyes had darkened with lust. He slipped out of his shirt and threw it to the ground, his eyes on you the entire time.

"Why did you stop?" you huffed impatiently. The abrupt loss of contact left you feeling bereft. You craved the warmth of Mairon's body, with his mouth opening over yours and leaving you breathless. You yearned to have him inside you again. Your body practically demanded it. Mairon merely chuckled. 

"You think I was just going to stop at the spanking?" He tsked and shook his head. "Oh, precious, I'm just getting started."

Your whine ceased when his lips sought yours once more. His kiss was hard and left your lips bruised. He moaned deep and ragged when your nails dug into your skin. 

"You disturbed me," he whispered between kisses. "I should just send you home and not indulge you for a few days."

"Please don't do that," you said in protest. "I promise I'll be good."

You were so caught up in his kissing that you barely heard the sound of a zip coming undone and clothes rustling. Mairon slipped off his shoes and entered you without warning, moaning when your sigh poured into his mouth. 

"Begging already?" He grinned and kissed you until he heard nothing but mewls and whimpers. "Then tell me how badly you want me to fuck you."

You could barely get a word in between his kisses. "I want you to fuck me hard, baby. Please."

"Is that what you want?" Mairon rubbed his nose against your hair. The sweet, clean scent of it felt so good. "For me to fuck you hard?"

"Yes," you whimpered. His hands snuck under your top and traced lines up and down your spine. The tingles you felt made you shudder. "That's what I want."

Mairon kissed you and lifted you in one swift move. You held on to him, gasping when the cold surface of a glass window rubbed up against your back. He looked over your shoulder, scanning the windows in the surrounding buildings. The offices were empty, but he had to be quick. 

"Tell me how much you love it when I fuck you." Mairon held onto you, his thrusts as erratic as his breathing. 

"It... feels... so good..." You clung to him, caged between him and the glass. The soft sounds of his hips slapping against your thighs and your moans echoed. "You know I love it when you fuck me."

Mairon moaned when your cunt clenched around his cock, pulling him in deeper. "Are you close, precious?"

Your muscles started to coil again. You were close, so very close. "Yes," you breathed. "Yes, yes, yes."

"You can't cum," he ordered, his voice thick and hoarse. "Not until I tell you to."

You tried. Oh, how you tried. Your own body betrayed you in the end, your orgasm ripping through you before you could even blink. Mairon groaned and shivered when your cunt tightened around his cock.

"Fuck, that felt good," he whispered. "But you're going to do it again, do you hear me?"

Mairon didn't wait for your answer. He ground his hips against the insides of your thighs, his moans as loud as yours. He managed to keep his attention on you even as his body shook. The sight of you against his table, your eyes closed and your mouth open, was all it took to send him over. 

"Now," he breathed. "Cum for me now."

The world felt like it had stopped spinning when you came again, with your entire body feeling like it was drowning. You barely heard him grunt when he came. All you could feel was your own bliss. 

The world came into focus slowly when you blinked and opened your eyes. Mairon was still over you, shaking from exhaustion. Sweat glistened over his brow. He touched your cheek, his thumb tracing a line over your cheekbone. 

"Let's get cleaned up and go home," he said, helping you up. He had enough of working for one day. It was time he went home and spent more time with you. "I'm done with work."

Tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese @fictionfordays @edensrose

[thessaliah]

The episode left clear that he’s Sauron more than ever, but how? First, him wanting to get into Numenorian guild is weird for Sauron, the Maia, who was even more knowledgeable than Celebrimbor. And you can expect Sauron to stay in Numenor with Pharazon and increase his influence while the Queen is away, but he's going in Middle Earth to help elves because?

Just one phrase: "I'm sorry for your brother and everything." Now what is suspicious about this sentence? Hint: look up what's the difference between sorry for vs sorry about.

Also, you're assuming Sauron desires that right now. Meanwhile, IMO, he honestly wishes to be left alone and start over somewhere quietly. I remind you Sauron spent centuries away from Middle Earth trying to be a good boy and starting over even if he refused the Valar's judgment (and Tolkien affirmed it again in his letters). I don't think Halbrand is Annatar Sauron, or Tar-Mairon Sauron (yet), as I suspected at first, I think he's this unexplored repentant Sauron who just wanna be good and runs from his 'destiny.' But we know he exists, Tolkien didn’t say what he did, so Halbrand can be his identity in this stage. That he emphasizes Galadriel will hate him if she knew the truth, makes it super obvious who he truly is. She wouldn't cast him away for some sin in name of survival. Galadriel just can't conceive Sauron could have good in him, or desires redemption, that's why she's blind to his guise. She sensed he was probably trouble as Annatar because he had malicious intentions then. And still didn't push to expel him as much as she should.

They are basically smashing together all timeline. Or else we wouldn't have Elendil and co in a period no rings were forged with Sauron MIA for ages. They are upping the drama, otherwise they wouldn’t have built a personal relationship between them. It would not make sense for the fallout. I think (at this moment) Halbrand honestly wishes to do good, and it’ll have terrible consequences because most likely the mcguffin sword will get some mechanism that will activate with him near and would turn the Southlands into Mordor. 

Why would a random man of the Southlands, heir or not, there's no organized education there: move smoothly in court better than Galadriel, knew how to forge better than Numeronians, defeat a group of Numeronians (the strongest Men) with ease? Think about it. How could a low man do that? It's like if a random silvan elf can beat a group of noldor.

[psychedaleka]

god does not play dice with the universe (but he does play pranks) (vii)

read on ao3!

Hallmark movie Melkor/Mairon/Celebrimbor.

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for @tolkiencrackweek

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Starring:

Mairon Artáno, overworked engineer at Angband Enterprises, originally from the small town of Valinor. Engaged to his boss, Melkor Bauglir.

Melkor Bauglir, CEO of Angband, estranged from his family.

Aulë Artáno, father of Mairon, Manwë Sulimo’s best friend.

Manwë Súlimo, mayor of Valinor, father of Eonwë, Melkor’s fraternal twin.

Eönwë Súlimo, Mairon’s ex boyfriend.

Celebrimbor Finwion, grandson of the deceased genius Feanor, civil engineer to be fixated on restoring Valinor as a lively small town.

So: Mairon is engaged to Melkor, and very much in love with him despite the significant age gap and fact that Melkor’s his boss.

A few days before Christmas, his estranged father Aulë calls him in a panic: Mairon’s teen brother Curumo has gone missing.

Mairon’s never gotten along with his father, but he remembers the younger brother who’s always looked at him with hero worship in his eyes.

So Mairon packs his bags, kisses Melkor goodbye, and returns home to Valinor.

His homecoming isn’t quite as pleasant as he’d hoped: he gets into an argument with Aulë almost immediately after he gets off the train—it’s your responsibility to look after your own son—and Mairon storms off into the night.

He hasn’t been home for years, and it’s changed more than he thought: Valinor had been a vibrant town then, fuelled by traffic from the highway. It had been bustling with activity, people walking through the streets, buildings lit up with signs and goods, a festival or special event seemingly happening every week.

But ever since the new highway was built, fewer and fewer people have been coming—and so many have been moving away. Lúthien’s son, for one, and his fashion company, and all his family and their employees—now gone. Shops and buildings are abandoned, storefronts left decrepit with nothing more than shelves of dust, flickering, poorly maintained lights. New roads were built, then abandoned to potholes and weeds, and old roads went out of use.

Valinor’s not a big place—it never has been—but with the new town layered over that in Mairon’s memories like a palimpsest, is it any surprise he gets lost?

A blizzard starts, and Mairon, still wearing his business formal, is ill prepared—he’d left all his luggage with Aulë, phone included.

He has no choice but to knock on the first door he sees: the house of one Celebrimbor Finwion, civil engineer.

Mairon’s not familiar with the Finwions—they lived a little north, in the community known as Formenos back when there were enough people that Valinor had to be divided into multiple neighbourhoods. He knows Feanor was a genius who had children and died early, and that his son Curufin had followed in his footsteps (except for the dying part).

Fëanor—Aulë’s contemporary—had a grandson a few years younger than Mairon.

Celebrimbor is in his house, still working despite the late hour—much to Mairon’s surprise and approval. Celebrimbor invites Mairon in—he doesn’t have a phone, since it distracts him from what he’s working on—and they begin to talk.

Mairon is, surprisingly, drawn to the young and ambitious engineer, who wants nothing more than to see Valinor as the lively town of his childhood, back when there was still life and light. Mairon, still in shock over how much has changed in the last decade, vows to help him.

They spend the night in pleasant conversation, and the next day comes but the blizzard doesn’t stop. They talk for the entire day, too, and Mairon’s shocked at how much he has to say to the young engineer. Mairon’s not much of a conversationalist—even a few hours of conversation usually exhausts him—but it’s been much longer and he’s still excited to continue.

The next day, they dig themselves out of the metres of snow, and Mairon returns to Aulë’s house. Yavanna and Aulë are worried sick for him, and they have yet another argument.

Mairon demands how they could claim to care and worry about him when they never seemed to do so during his childhood, leaving him to face the bullies at school and the solitude of years alone.

Aulë, incensed, retorts that he was only trying to save the town, working nearly round the clock in order to bring more business and new people—for Mairon, he might add, to have a future. How could you be so ungrateful, Aulë rages, and Mairon opens his mouth to speak but—

“Stop it!” yells sixteen year old Curumo, standing at the front door. “Why do you have to keep arguing like this? Aren’t we family?”

Curumo, it turns out, had wished every Christmas for his big brother to return home, and now that he’s old enough to not believe in Christmas miracles, decided to take matters into his own hands by running away to a friend of his, Olorin’s house.

Aulë and Yavanna vacate the living room, and Mairon and Curumo have a difficult conversation. Their childhoods were different ones, and they’re different people too, and Curumo’s hero, standing right in front of him, doesn’t exactly live up to his expectations.

Curumo cries. Mairon remains impassive.

The doorbell rings.

It’s Manwë, Aulë’s best friend, and his family—his wife Varda, and their two children Eönwë and Ilmarë. They’re here for lunch, as is traditional, and it’s a tense meal. Manwe doesn’t know what happened, but he and his son try their best to diffuse the tension—they fail.

Mairon volunteers to wash the dishes so he doesn’t have to speak to anyone except—Eönwe offers the same.

They’re in close proximity, and maybe Eönwë’s still not over their break up so long ago, but Mairon feels nothing. Their conversation is stilted, which only makes him long for Melkor—or Celebrimbor, surprisingly.

Problem solved—Curumo found—Mairon prepares to leave. Mairon offers to drive him to the train station, and he accepts.

There, he runs into Celebrimbor, who, disappointed, asks him if he’s leaving.

Yes, Mairon says.

Oh, Celebrimbor says. I thought—well. I know we’ve only known each other for such a short time, but you made me feel as I never have, as though I could tackle whatever problem the world gave me. And I thought you would stay, to help me with Valinor.

A train pulls up. Mairon should leave.

You make me feel the same way, Mairon says. I wish I could help you, but I—I can’t stay here, not with my family like this. There’s too many bad memories here.

We could… make new ones? Celebrimbor suggests.

A pause.

I love you, Celebrimbor blurts.

Silence.

Someone hugs Mairon from behind.

Guess who, says Melkor.

Mairon turns his head, and Melkor kisses him.

It’s your favourite fiance, Melkor says.

You’re my only fiance.

Celebrimbor leaves without another word, and Mairon can’t explain the deep sense of loss in his chest.

Come on, Melkor says, pushing Mairon towards the parking lot. I wanna see how much this town has changed.

Mairon barely has time to process that before—

Melkor? Manwë looks pale, as though he’s seen a ghost. What are you doing here?

As it turns out, they’re fraternal twins—which would explain why Mairon’s never made the connection. Melkor left very early, after graduating high school, desperate to get away from an overbearing father.

Mairon wonders how he’s going to explain this to Eönwë: oh, I’m dating your long lost uncle.

The tension skyrockets.

Manwe and Melkor have a shouting match. Aulë and Melkor have a tense conversation. Aulë tries to lecture Mairon on his romantic choices. Explaining to Eönwë is as awkward as he thought.

Celebrimbor is nowhere to be found.

Mairon, hesitantly, mentions Celebrimbor to Melkor.

Huh, he says, I had a crush on Fëanor when we were in school. If you—we—were to date him, I’d feel like I was robbing the cradle.

Christmas Eve is spent in awkward tension.

Christmas Day comes. Outside, everything is covered in snow. Inside, everyone is in surprisingly good spirits.

There’s a bit of Christmas magic in the air, after all.

Mairon talks to his family, and no one gets mad. There’s too many years and burnt bridges and things done—or not done—for them to make up, just like that, but it’s a start.

Manwë and Melkor talk. They’re older now, no longer teenagers, and with the years in between—and Eru dead—they can talk about it, now, their shared childhood, everything that was and no longer is.

All that’s missing is Celebrimbor.

A knock at the door.

I came to say, Celebrimbor says—

Whatever you have to say, no need, Mairon says. I care for you. And I’m hardly strictly monogamous, after all.

Celebrimbor is hesitant, but willing to try to make things work. They, none of them, know what’s going to happen, but it’s worth a shot.

You wouldn’t happen to know where Fëanor hid his jewels, would you? Melkor asks.

Celebrimbor doesn’t. But Maedhros does. And Melkor remembers the caves where they came from, filled with rock structures and glittering stone, like a glistening spray of stars against dark sky, enough to take anyone’s breath away.

This is it, Celebrimbor says. This is how we save Valinor.

And so, maybe they do get their happy ending. It’s not an easy path, no, filled with arguments and negotiations and tears, but it’s better than another world they don’t know, one where Feanor’s jewels nearly destroy Valinor instead of save it.

But in this universe, where Christmas has some power after all, there can be more laughter than tears, and the only rings Mairon creates are wedding rings—three of them.