#not-so-secretly-mairon

[saurons-pr-department]

In the spirit of the day, I shall bestow upon my most trusted PR department a proper boop in the inbox!

BOOP

- The Dark Lord

I am honoured, my Lord! 😍

And if I may be so bold, I would like to request the further honour of being permitted to Boop His Lordship in return?

[kimchokejin]

Tagged by @seoksao to do the "which character" personality test and post my results and honestly thank you so much for tagging me this was so fun because i'm obsessed with comprehensive personality quizzes (shocker) and i got a bunch of my coworkers to take it too and i loved seeing everyone's results! i could fit my top 46 in the screenshot so that's what you're getting

i could also see which character i was like from specific shows so they're not on the list but i was also similar to eric from that 70s show, jonah from superstore (a callout), peeta from the hunger games, and reid from criminal minds <3

Tagging: don't be nervous you can do this @courtthisdisaster (if you wanted to post it!), @blueside-hobi, @cheekyquokka, @hopeinthebox, @mutedstring, @not-so-secretly-mairon, @stardiviner13, and anyone who sees this!

[namchyoon]

ANNA HELP I AM NOT OKAY I HAVE BEEN BIAS WRECKED TO THE MAX SHDJAKFKSKFLSGJ KIM NAMJOON WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT

NAMJOON BIASWRECKER ERA LET'S GOOO 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

[cilil]

My personal conspiracy theory is that Melkor actually wanted Fëanor to be captured, not killed, so he can continue to be creepy and obsessed with him. Unfortunately for him, Mairon was so pissed that his lover came back with burned hands, an entire army chasing him and drooling over someone else and their smith work (and jealous too) that he secretly bribed the Balrogs into killing Fëanor instead, and then they all pretended it was an "accident" and they "tried so hard", but he "wouldn't cooperate" and "just randomly died"

[animatorweirdo]

How to kidnap yourself a dark lord husband?

(The last request. This is for the Sauron x reader being a Hades and Persephone imagine. I'm sorry if this was not all you expected, but I was struggling with ideas and with the help of a friend, turned this into a crack fic. I might make a second part since this ended up being long. I hope you like it. )

Requested by Anon

Hi AnimatorWeirdo! Sending you a request for Mairon x daughter of Feanor!reader in a Persephone x Hades AU? (Like the anon requested a little bit ago? Thank you!

Warnings: Reader is done with her family, really wants a puppy, intensely flirts with Sauron, proposes marriage, and then kidnaps him from his fortress.

--------------------------------

You: *Travelling in the darkness of Beleriand* 

You: Okay. Is this the place to find other people* 

*Before* 

You: *Slowly losing her patience* 

Maedhros: (Name), you should consider going out more. It will do good for you. 

You: Alright *Goes outside* 

You: *Sits in the garden* 

Maglor: *Sings very loudly that the birds of the garden fly away, disrupting your peacetime* 

You: *Growl and leaves the house* 

You: *Check around the forest* 

Celegorm: Woohoo! *Rides past her with Huan, splashing mud on you* 

You: Fuck! *Leaves the for forest* 

You: *Arrive at a quiet lake*

Caranthir: *Appears in the shade doing embroidery or whatever he did in his free time*

You: Ah! Where did you come from?!

Caranthir: I've been here all this time. 

You: Oh, okay. What are you doing? 

Carathir: Embroidery. 

You: Cool. Can I try? 

Caranthir: No. I don't want you to ruin my things.

You: *silence* 

You: Fine. Goodbye! *Walks away* 

You: *Comes to a city to check around stalls and shops*

Curufin: *Bangs loudly his hammer in his workshop, startling you*

You: * You stare as he works, but decide to leave, not considering interacting with him*

You: *You come home*

You: *You sigh in relief when you hear the house is quiet, which means silence and peace*

You: *Step on a trap rope*

You: *Get splashed by a bucket of water*

You: *Scream*

Ambarussa: *Laughs at you* 

You: *Growling with rage* 

You: Naneth! Can I move with Grandpa and other cousins?

Nerdanel: *Deeply focused on her work* Ask your father.

You: Atar! Can I move with Grandpa and other cousins?!

Feanor: *Focusing on his work* No!

You: Please! I can't handle seeing my brothers everywhere! I just want one week of peace!

Feanor: As I said. No. 

You: THATS IT!

You: I AM SO DONE WITH ALL OF YOU! *Secretly leaves Aman and wanders into Beleriand without telling anybody* 

*Now*

You: *Stare at the dark fortress filled with strange creatures*

You: *Shrugs* Looks decent enough. 

*Inside*

Sauron: *Minding his own business*

You: *Appear and stare at him*

You: *Checks him out because he's quite good-looking*

Sauron: *Groans frustrated with a project*

You: You should probably consider adding this to make it work. *Points at something*

Sauron: *Nearly jumps off from his chair* Where the hell did you come from, elf?

You: I walked in. 

Sauron: You... just walked in? Without getting captured by the guards?

You: *Nods* I mean, they were on their break, and I didn't want to disturb them. 

Sauron: Elf, do you even know who I am?

You: *Looks at him and his height*

You: Really tall? 

Sauron: No! I am Sauron! Lord Melkor's greatest servant and the lord of this fortress! 

You: .... okay. 

Sauron: You... you're not even half phased or scared? I am technically a horror story to the local elves. 

You: *giggles* you're funny. I saw you have some troubles with this one thing: I know how to fix it, let me show you. 

You: *Began showing him how to fix the problem*

Sauron: *just lets you because it was working and he didn't know what to do else* 

*1 Day later* 

Sauron:*ordering orcs around*

You: *squealing loudly* that it startled most of the orcs*

You: Mairon? Can I keep him? *Holding a werewolf puppy*

Sauron: What? No! That's one of my werewolves. I can't let you keep him and who allowed you to call me by my original name? 

You: Please! My father still doesn't allow me to adopt a dog, and I'm a full-grown adult, and besides, you have hundreds of werewolves. You can afford to give one to me!

Sauron: As I said. No! 

You: *Leans in closer, fluttering your eyelashes* Please, my lord. Give this puppy to me. 

Sauron: Are you seriously trying to put up a seductive act just to adopt a puppy?

You: *Grins* Is it working? 

Sauron: *Sighs* Fine. If you really want him. 

You: *Squeals again in happiness* Thank you! I'm gonna name him Carna because his coat reminds me of your red hair. 

Sauron: You do know, he's gonna grow up into a werewolf, right? You don't find that even slightly abnormal or disturbing? 

You: No. Not at all. He's my baby now. I'm gonna love him even when he's grown up. 

Carna: *Whines happily, licking your face*

You: *Giggles while hugging him*

Sauron: *Muttering under his breath while staring at you with slightly reddish cheeks and ears because he finds the sight adorable* Oh shit. 

*8 Day*

You: Fuck!

Sauron: *Startled* What? What's going on? 

You: My family just started noticing my disappearance and knows I'm here. They now claim you kidnapped me or something. 

Sauron: And what are you planning to deal with that? 

You: Unless you want to face the drama of my family. I should probably go there to explain what's really going on between you and me. And trust me, you do not want to face my family drama.

Sauron: Fine. Go. I do not think I can stop you even if I want to. 

You: Alright. I will be back as soon as possible. *leaves the fortress*

Sauron: Finally, some peace and quiet.

*12 Day* 

Sauron: *dealing with deep silence and not being used to it because he had gotten used to hearing your voice most of the time*

Orc: Sire. Is something bothering you?

Sauron: Fuck... I actually miss her and her obnoxious voice. 

Orc: *Confusion*

*15 Day*

You: I'm back! 

Sauron: Finally! What took you so long?!

You: My family. Why? Did you miss me?

Sauron: *Scoffs* No.

Random balrog: *Pops out of nowhere* Yes, he did! He's been ten times more foul when you were away! He even created wolves to remember you since you liked his werewolves so much. 

You: Aww! You did!

Sauron: *Screaming at the balrog*  Shut up! 

You: Oh, don't be mad. I missed you too. 

Sauron: *looks at you confused* really? 

You: *Smiles* Yeah. I like how calm and collected you are. You don't bring too much drama in the house. You're creative with your work and respect my boundaries, which my family rarely does. And the best part— you have dogs. 

Sauron: Wolves, technically. 

You: It doesn't matter. If it's fluffy and cute, and I can hug it, then that's all that matters. And I do like a certain amount of wildness in them. 

Sauron: You are a very strange elf, you know that? Are you possibly the oddball in your family? 

You: Maybe. I just like things slightly unordinary. Valinor is nice and all, but It can get really boring sometimes. 

You: *Gets an idea*

You: I know how to get my family off our backs. 

Sauron: And what's that?

You: *Graps his hands and looks at him with an intense look* Marry me!

Sauron: Huh?!

The whole fortress: Ooooohhh! 

Sauron: *stutters for the first time in his life* No! Why?!

You: If we get married my family will finally stop bothering us. And besides, I think we make a good couple. We're both smart and pretty. We have dogs and if we get far in our relationship, we'll make beautiful children. 

Sauron: *stunned *

The whole fortress: Come on, that's not a bad deal. Get some!

Sauron: *Collects himself quickly* Aren't you being a bit too bold with your proposal? 

You: Is that a yes? 

Sauron: I'm— uhh—

The random balrog: Hey! How about you two kiss already?!

Sauron: Shut it!

You: Great. So it's settled then? 

Sauron: What? 

You: Let's go to Valinor to break the news. Let's go! 

Sauron: Hey! Wait a minute! *Screams as you take him away from the fortress*

[neldeathstar]

The wedding of Colomë (Melron) and Gilgalad

The King and the Maia of Lindon ❤️. In the background: Cirdan, who was like a second father to Ereinion, his cousin Celebrimbor and his grand aunt Galadriel all being very happy for them ❤️! It's a happy end- all his friends and family knew that Gilgalad wasn't able to give his heart to anyone until he'd meet Colomë again. They fell in love as children. Celebrimbor is a little sad though…he dreams about finding love too.. he will soon, but different than they all would have wished for him

Colomë is an OC of mine, they are Melkor and Sauron's second child. So this is a headcanon addition, some of you may already be familiar with from my earlier posts :).

Colomë chose their name, that means "golden voice" on their own to get rid of their deadname Melron. Growing up on Angband, Colomë was always different than the rest of their family. Them an Erenion met secretly as children in the woods in the land of Hithlum before they lost touch for a very long time. When Colomë grew up and the beloved father was gone, they fled from Mairon into the world of Arda, undercover looking for Ereinion who then became the king of London. Colomë decided from then on to live a life as a Maia of the Valar, like their mother Maia Mairon does.. but Colomë being a good one! A one that heals and helps the mortals in fighting evil! After Ereinions and Colomës reunion both of them never seperated again, they immediately fell in love again. Some beautiful but also desperate times began..

Colomë's interseksual (sorry, gotta type it that way bc censorship) like Mairon.

✨Also:✨thanks for sending me so many questions!! Gonna answer them all tomorrow ❤️✨✨

[hopeforchanges]

i audibly gasped when Yavanna visited Saurbrand in his forge and told him that for a god he couldn't act more human. they say nothing is truly original, i believe someone must have pointed this out somewhere in the long years of LOTR existing but by god what masterful writing this is. how surface-level and yet deep, it's right there in front of you and yet you don't notice until someone points it out. Saurpasta really should have been a human, i think he secretly wishes for nothing more than to BE a human. i think the agelessness has taken its toll and so he does everything in his power to feel like it isn't so. he is prideful, petty, he likes food, he likes to joke and smirk and he loves Galadriel and he loves life like you wrote but he still cannot completely shake off what he truly is, which is a powerful immortal being. man. what a woman you are, ms Hope.

😭😭😭 now you really done it and made me cry 😭😭😭

thank you, thank you, thank you, this is absolutely heart-warming.

I can't really elaborate on this incredibly thoughtful and insightful ask unless you want me to spoil the fic lol

What I can say is that Galadriel in both direct and indirect ways is going to make Sauron confront that which he's been avoiding since Morgoth was defeated - why the fuck am i still doing any of this???

I think that the beauty of Tolkien and his mastery over the genre comes mainly from the fact he understood that in order to write a fantasy, you must allow people to 'fantasize' and not answer every single question on their mind, to let them think and imagine what the answer is.

So when Tolkien wrote 'Sauron fell back into evil because the chains Morgoth lay on him were too strong' (i'm paraphrasing) I as a fan immediately go into overdrive imagining all the psychological reasons behind Sauron's fall (back) into evil. And exploring the concept of "I just can't live anymore but the world won't let me die" is one of the more fascinating ones I have decided to dive into in Echoes of Mairon.

Thank you again for the ask, anon, and for the beautiful words, they will get me through the bitter winter.

[xximmortalkissxx]

Where the Shadows Lie (Filler Episode: A Pact Forged in Darkness)

I wanted to get something posted while I'm still working on Chapter 2 of Where the Shadows Lie. I thought a peek into Móriel and Sauron's past might be fun. This is without a doubt a porn with plot filler episode.

Pairings: Sauron/Mairon x Móriel (Original Character: Daughter of Morgoth) 

Summary: (Romance Novel Addition) In the shadowy halls of Angband, Mórna returns home from battle to claim her reward: a weapon forged by her arch rival, Sauron. Tasked by her father Morgoth, Sauron crafts a spear as powerful as it is beautiful, while Mórna secretly watches, captivated by his mastery and the fire in his eyes. When he finally presents her with the spear, a charged duel incites, igniting into an explosive tumble that neither saw coming. In that stolen moment, they both realize that the secrets to their ambitions may very well lie within each other.

Warnings: (18+! Smut: Slight Knife Play, Fingering, Sex, Anal Play, Biting, Brat Taming) Brief mentions of violence.

Word Count: 2k

The steady sound of footsteps on stone echoed softly as Móriel strode into the vast and ominous main hall of Angband. Her dark armor was still marred with the stains and viscera of battle, accompanied by the smell of smoke and ash lingering on her skin. The Daughter of Morgoth's radiant gaze was fixed ahead as her father’s looming throne came into view. 

The Dark Lord Morgoth sat shrouded in shadow, his dark piercing eyes following her every move as she approached. At the base of his throne, Móriel  knelt and bowed deeply, the small decorative blades dangling from her hair ringing as she waited for his voice to rumble through the darkness.

“My Daughter returns victorious,” Morgoth began, a dark amusement glinting in his cold eyes, “Word has reached me of your ruthlessness on the battlefield, Móriel. The children of Ilúvatar, reduced to carrion at your feet.” The Dark Lord paused and Móriel bristled in anticipation. “Though if all the tales are to be believed, you have begun to reap veneration amongst my thralls as well as you reap lives.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, her father brooked no rivals even as he surrounded himself with vipers.

“Is that not so, Lieutenant?”

The sound of footsteps resonated through the hall, then stopped beside Morgoth's throne. Móriel  kept her head low, but her eyes flicked up carefully to catch the new arrival. Sauron, as always, with his venom dripping into her father's ear.

“The victory and veneration are yours Father, I am but your weapon, a blunt instrument,” Móriel replied smoothly, her voice dipped in reverence. “To wield as you will.”

A malevolent smile creased Morgoth’s lips, pleased yet observant, as if evaluating the truth behind her words. She felt the weight of his gaze on her, and inwardly, she hoped her staunch loyalty appeared genuine. Her very existence depended on it.

Beside the throne, Sauron stood silently, observing Móriel with a bemused smirk. His eyes held her with an unsettling glint making her wonder just how much he truly saw. After a prolonged silence, Morgoth finally spoke, his voice reverberating like thunder. “Such devotion deserves reward in kind. You shall bear a weapon tailored to your reputation.” 

He looked to Sauron, and the order was clear.

“Make it for her,” he commanded. “Forge a weapon of true power.”

Sauron inclined his head, his expression unreadable. “As you command, my lord.”

************************************************************************

In the days that followed, Móriel found herself drawn to the forge where Sauron labored, watching the steady, controlled tension of his body as he bent metal and magic to his will. She was captivated by the dichotomy of the being before her. His copper hair, which was always kept orderly, now had stray tendrils falling across his face. Where there had been cold, calculating composure, he now held a furrowed brow and a gaze lost in fervent thought. Keeping to the shadows, Móriel observed longingly as Sauron poured the dark sorcery of his craft into the weapon, her weapon, a zealous fire reflecting in her eyes. 

The spear, once completed, was a masterpiece—deadly and elegant. Its shaft was lined with runes of binding and power while the tip was a mosaic of both light and dark steel, a subtle homage to its mistress. The very shadows seemed to dance along its length and Móriel could feel them pulse with corrupted magic. Sauron wiped his hands on a rag coated in soot, his lips curling into a smile as he sensed her approach.

“You can stop lurking, Móriel,” he said without turning, his voice edged with amusement. “It is time for you to claim your prize.”

She stepped closer, her golden eyes illuminated by the flickering light of the forge. “It is remarkable,” she murmured, her fingers leisurely trailing along its length. “And…beautiful.”

Sauron tilted his head, watching her with an amused smirk. The blaze of the fire behind them caused the sheer fabric of her dress to become almost entirely translucent. He studied the contours of her body, the way the dark edges of the fabric embraced her figure, leaving just enough to tantalize his imagination.  

“Beauty is a word for fragile things. I made this to be unbreakable, akin to its bearer.” He took the spear into his hands, his gaze lingering on her expectantly. But as Móriel’s fingers grazed the shaft, Sauron swiftly pivoted his body and spun the spear from her grasp, chastising her with the shake of his head and the tsk of his tongue. 

“I said you would have to claim it,” he corrected pointedly, positioning his body in preparation for her next move. 

Móriel’s eyes narrowed, but there was an amused smirk on her lips.

“As you like,” She replied nonchalantly, circling him slowly like a predator moving in on their prey. 

Sauron dodged her initial strikes with ease, moving with an effortless grace as he kept the spear just shy of her grasp. Móriel in turn pursued him like a shadow, making their duel look more like a dance than a true conflict. With a malicious grin, she snatched one of his forming hammers and sent it flying in his direction. Sauron easily repelled the tool with the spear but was too slow to counter Móriel as she seized the shaft and pushed him firmly against the stone wall. 

“I could get used to this Mairon,” she purred, tightening her grip on the spear. “Yield to me, now.” She commanded, her eyes blazing with impending triumph.

Sauron met her eyes with an amused glint and slowly loosened his hold. Móriel took the opening, blind to the obvious deception, and was met with the shaft of the spear connecting with her throat. Sauron spun her around effortlessly and pulled her body firmly against his. Móriel seized the shaft, but it was hopeless as Sauron tightened his grip and continued to choke her.  She thrashed against him at first, then as he pressed the spear harder against her throat her thrashing evolved into something else entirely. She began to squirm, rolling her hips against him eagerly. Before she could catch herself, a choked moan escaped her lips. Móriel could feel the vibration of Sauron’s snicker against her back and the warmth of his breath.

“So greedy,” he murmured, running his teeth along her ear. “but I am nothing if not generous. Yield to me now and I can ease that ache between your legs.” 

After a moment’s hesitation, Móriel loosened her hold on the spear and eased her body against his, rolling her head back against his chest. A wicked grin settled over Sauron’s face in response, relaxing the spear from her neck. Móriel's eyes darkened with delight, she had always been his most adept student. Seizing the spear firmly once more, she plunged them forward and used their gathered momentum to wrench the spear from his hands. As they landed, Móriel straddled him with the tip of her spear resting against his bobbing throat. 

The silence in the forge was deafening as they held each other’s gaze. Móriel’s heart raced as she tried to read him, to see beyond his carefully crafted mask. At best she expected indignation, at worst unbridled fury. But all she could see when she looked into his eyes was amusement and desire. The tension between them crackled like the air before a lightning strike, and before she could think better of it, Móriel found herself leaning in, drawn to the yearning dancing in his eyes. Their lips met, soft at first, hesitant—as though both feared to cross the threshold they had danced around for so long. It wasn’t long however before the kiss deepened, passion igniting between them as the spear clattered loudly to the stone floor. Sauron ran his fingers through her hair until his hand cupped the back of her neck, while Móriel held his head firmly in her hands, running her fingers over the tips of his pointed ears. 

When they finally broke apart, they stared at each other, both searching desperately for words.

“I have claimed what is mine,” Móriel stated, breaking the silence between them, “now claim what is yours.” 

Sauron’s eyes widened with a zealous fire at her words, Morgoth’s most prized possession, his for the taking- it brought him a vindictive sense of satisfaction. 

“Gladly.” he replied, grabbing the soft flesh of her leg and rolling her under him. Removing a small knife from his leather apron, Sauron cut through the sheer material of her dress, making sure the tip of the blade kissed her skin until she lay bare beneath him. Móriel’s breath caught, her arousal palpable at his blade’s gentle touch. Once his knife had finished its work, Sauron tossed it aside and slipped his hands between her legs until he found purchase against her cunt. He hummed in delight, she was already so deliciously wet for him as he massaged her clit vigorously. With each stroke, Móriel moaned his name loudly and bucked her hips against his hand, begging for him to fill the emptiness aching within her. 

“Shh, my Zahovar. Do you want your father to hear you?” Sauron teased as he dipped two of his fingers within her and began pumping rapidly. Móriel moaned his name louder in response, delighted by her new epithet. Zahovar - or jewel in the Black Speech. Sauron had taken her bait, now seeing himself as her new possessor. 

Just as Móriel felt a warm electric tingle begin to spread from between her legs, he removed his fingers and slowly licked along their crease. The vexed huff she gave in response caused Sauron to chuckle darkly. 

“If I am to claim you, it is only right that I decide when you reach your full pleasure.” he drawled, plunging his fingers into her mouth. Móriel wrapped her lips around them, her eyes locking on to his, as she bit down hard. 

“Ow.” Sauron responded stoically, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“To claim me, you will need to endure more pain than that.” Móriel hummed cheerfully, giving his fingers a gentle kiss.

“Móriel, I have toiled at a forge since the beginning of time itself. The burn of your skin will do nothing to dissuade me.” Sauron replied, trailing his hand down her jaw and gripping it tight.

“Now, on your knees.” He commanded, kissing her sloppily against the mouth. Móriel rolled over slowly and arched her back towards him. She could hear the rustling of clothing and quickly felt his fingers dig into hips as his knee spread her legs apart. With a firm hand, Sauron pushed her upper back down until she could feel her face and breasts press against the cold stone. Móriel tried rolling her hips against him, begging to feel any part of him touching her aching cunt. With a loud crack, Sauron’s hand clapped against her ass causing Móriel to cry out with pleasure. 

“Please, try that again.” Sauron threatened, his free hand hovering over the red mark forming on her skin. 

“Do you promise to be rougher?” Móriel mused wistfully, earning the rumble of a sinister laugh and a thumb plunging into her rosebud, as she was sharply tugged against him. A surprised yelp escaped her lips as it hooked inside her.    

“For you? Always,” he replied with mock affection, edging the tip of his erection against her dripping cunt. “But only if you obey me.” 

Móriel groaned in frustration, but kept her hips still, allowing him to maintain control. His pride would be his undoing, but Móriel was patient; this could be her chance to dissect something from the great deceiver; raw, intimate, and useful.

“Very good-” Sauron noted before letting out a deep groan of his own as he drove himself inside her. She sighed with ecstasy as he continued to thrust, his groin slapping against her ass with so much force that his thumb shared the momentum. Móriel listened with delight as he moaned strings of curses in the Black Speech, his voice low, almost a growl. Quaking around his cock, she released a lusty whine and begged him to let her touch herself. Her new reverence earned a rumble of approval, and Móriel wasted no time massaging her clit as she was pounded into the stone floor furiously. 

Soon, the intense tingling warmth returned, and Móriel felt herself losing all control as she bit down a scream and gripped herself around his erection. Sauron groaned, his pace becoming sloppy as he chased his own climax. Móriel continued to pulse herself around him, taking pleasure in the little noises he made in response. Nearing his own orgasm, Sauron slipped his thumb from inside her and his hands tightened over her hips like a vice. With a final curse, he pushed himself into Móriel as far as he could, shuddering inside her as he released his seed. 

Panting, Sauron pulled her onto his lap and leaned against the cold stone wall. They stayed there for a time, his arms wrapped around her possessively, until the shuffle of feet and the sound of voices carried down the hall. Neither made an attempt to cover themselves and stayed planted where they were, Moriel nibbling along Sauron's neck as a lone orc came into view.

“The Dark Lord has commanded your presence.” he stated brusquely, lumbering into the chamber with a look of disinterest. Through his eyes, the couple stood on either end of a work table, Móriel's hand running a whet stone across the edge of her new spear.

“We will be there shortly-” Sauron replied, a slight hitch in his voice as Móriel bit harder against his throat. The orc nodded and left, slamming the heavy door behind him.

“That was close,” She cooed in his ear, as though she hadn't just attempted to break his concentration. “It would have been tragic if Father found out about this. The thought of you being torn apart and put back together, again and again…” Móriel trailed off, as if caught in a wistful dream.

“With you alongside me my radiant Zahovar,” Sauron retorted, his mouth pressed firmly against her ear. “Presently, all Morgoth sees between us is rivalry. Two of his most loyal servants vying for power against one another, and distracted from greater ambitions.” 

“Is that not the way of things Mairon?” Móriel asked, slipping her hand into his with feigned affection. “Or do you wish for more?”

“As a god, your father's strength is undeniable. But all he wishes is to destroy.” Sauron replied.

“I wish to create. A perfect unending order, encompassing all of Middle Earth. Guided by more… deft hands.” he added, lacing his fingers with hers.

“Your hands.” Móriel scoffed, her eyes burning with indignation.

“Our hands,” Sauron corrected, giving her hand a tender kiss. He noted the flush on her cheeks and the fervor in her eyes. Móriel was her father's daughter in most respects. The concepts of mercy, kindness, and empathy were foreign to her. But Morgoth was only half of her lineage. Móriel's hunger for power and veneration was born of something different from her father’s. She was singular. In all creation, there was no being like her. The origins of her birth brought power, but there was terrible loneliness and fear in her as well. These qualities made her far more pliant than Morgoth ever could be, and Sauron was determined to use them to his advantage.  Móriel and the terrible might she wielded would be his, in time, just like the rest of Middle Earth. 

[verecunda]

For the ship thingy: Sauronwë 🔥 🐦

YESSSS. Sorry for taking so damn long about this, I've been so bloody unwell. x___x

Anyway.

Waaaaugh, they make me INSANE. Like, the reason I started shipping it in the first place is because we have exactly one (1) canon interaction between them, but it's just so fascinating! It comes at this absolutely crucial turning point: the overthrow of Morgoth and the ruin of Beleriand. We have Eönwë, leader of the Valarin host, probably very tired and very stressed, especially if he's already dealt with Maedhros and Maglor... and then here comes Sauron, very possibly genuinely rethinking his life choices, donning his fair guise and practically throwing himself at Eönwë's feet to beg for mercy. What is going through their heads at this point? Did they know each other before Mairon went over? Why is this our first canonical example of Sauron specifically trying to use beauty to get his own way?

Basically: if you imagine that they were once lovers, then this canon scene becomes gloriously fraught! Imagine all the messy emotions that must be swirling round this meeting! All the angst, all the love that never quite went away suddenly welling up through the cracks again, all the resentment and the longing and the wondering what if? I'm obsessed with the idea of Sauron clutching at Eönwë as the one familiar thing left among all the wreckage, something bright and beloved from his old life, a sign that if he can just play this right, he can claw his way out of this pit he's dug for himself... and there's Eönwë clutching back, only too aware of his duty, only too aware that he can't trust Sauron - but, oh he wants to, he wants to believe that maybe if he plays this right, he can bring Mairon back...

It's a complete, dreadful, delightful disaster in the making. >8D

And apart from all that, I find it really fun for exploring them both as characters. They're kind of each other's opposite numbers - the herald of Manwë vs. the lieutenant of Morgoth - so it's interesting to play them off each other to see what makes them different and what makes them similar, exploring Almaren backstories, all that good stuff. And though it's not my favourite thing to do with them, there's also tasty AU potential in redemption arcs for Sauron, or corruption arcs for Eönwë.

But also, just the angst of poor, sad Eönwë still secretly carrying his torch for Sauron the Abhorred all through the ages of Middle-earth... you can't beat that.

Send me a ship and I’ll explain why I do or don’t ship it.

[doodle-pops]

Can I ask for mini headcanon for the Ainur reuniting with their s/o who was exiled (went with the Noldor) during the War of Wrath? Sorry if this is too specific :(

A/N: No Melkor and Mairon because it's the War of Wrath, they got wrecked during that war, no reunion with them. I tried to keep these short and failed 🥹

The Ainur — Reuniting With Their Exiled S/O

Manwë

When he watched from Ilmarin as you followed the rebellion of the Valar out of Valinor and into the doom, his heart clenched when you became part of the host fated to the prophecies. Every day he would send his eagles to watch over you until the return of some of the Noldor at the end of the 1st Age.

But his heart swells when he sees your return to the shores of Valinor after centuries of loneliness, it was his Herald who brought you to meet with the Elder King. Long tears of how he missed you and prayed for your safe return will lead to endless days of him never leaving your side.

Irmo

He will constantly brace his brother and Manwë for updates on the Noldor's activities and yours. At first, he kept his distance from Námo after the doom was made, not wanting to believe that his own brother would subject his lover to the same fate as the Noldor when you were innocent. But even Irmo knew it was never his brother's personal intention.

During your time in Middle Earth, he does contact you through dreams, but it's short since the ban was still blocking him from reaching out the way he wanted. When you step off the boat at the end of the 1st Age with Finarfin's host, Irmo broke all forms of composure to rush to your side and embraces you in a bone-crushing hug. Lots of kisses and whispers for you to never leave him again.

Námo

If you thought the others were crushed, Námo died on the inside when his voice rang out to reveal the doom of the Noldor, knowing that there was a possibility of you being subjected to the same fate as the rest. He blames so many people, even himself at one point for willingly announcing the doom. He becomes cold and even more distant from everyone and the world and fearful of finding your fëa in his Halls one day.

The day he receives news of your return from his brother because of your visit to Lorien for healing, Námo on the outside appears normal, but Irmo can see his cold exterior cracking as he glides past him to reunite with you. He wants to be stern about your decision because of the pain it caused him, but he's more relieved to have you back in his arms.

Ulmo

He's been watching you since you left Middle Earth without the order of the Valar. He didn't even wait for them to bark the order for him to secretly watch over them. You were there and he wasn't going to sit around like the rest and do nothing.

Despite him keeping you safe in his own little way, he wasn't able to outrightly communicate with you in the manner he would have liked to. Comes the day the ban is lifted, Ulmo would reveal himself to you, quick to inform you that he's always been keeping you safe. His shattered heart is healed once you made your way into his embrace, crying about how you were sorry and missed him.

Tulkas

Another person who understands that the doom wasn't Námo's personal doing but hated when it was announced and covered all the departing elves, including you. This meant, in his heart, there was the possibility of you never returning whether you lived or died.

The day he learns that the ban was lifted and the elves could return, he awaited your return but was stressed. Perhaps when you settled in your old house, he would make his appearance with hurt and relief on his face seeing you unscattered. For a moment, he forgets his strength and pulls you into the tightest embrace ever, begging you to never leave him like that.

Oromë

He's pissed and desperately wants to leave Valinor to track you down in Middle Earth but argues with the other Valar when they refuse him because they "can't intervene". For once, Oromë wanted to refuse the orders of the other Valar and dance to his own tune but he still waited things out in hopes.

The minute you touch down on Valinor's soil, the bird and beast have alerted him and he's there waiting for you at your home. He appears angered because you followed the crowd, turning away from the Valar, but he's touched that you still used to pray to him and came home safe.

Eönwë

Tearful the entire time you departed and buried himself in strenuous training to mask his hurt. He becomes distant and always asking Thorondor if he has seen anything pertaining to you during your time in Middle Earth.

When he gets the chance to journey to Middle for the war, he doesn't waste a minute of the fighting to seek you out. He's asking around for you and when he does discover your whereabouts, you can bet that he's begging you to return once the ban is lifted. Eönwë refuses to part with you another time, and he's tearful about it too.

Tilion

Before he ended up guiding Isil across the sky, he was heartbroken that he couldn't get you to stay and you chose to follow those who rebelled against him and his people. At one point, he thought you felt the same towards him as everyone else, until he got placed in the sky to guide Isil and he saw you. Tilion watched over you and his heart was filled with glee once he noticed you looking at the moon.

Upon your return, Tilion cannot wait till day has broken for him to walk Valinor again and embrace you in a tearful reunion. He spends most of the day crying in your arms and explaining how much he feared and missed you. His biggest request like everyone else is to never abandon him like that.

Ossë

He is furious and it showed in his actions as he drowned the boats that departed Alqualonde. He knew that you weren't on any, but it was for the actions of Fëanor persuading your innocent heart and taking you away from him, condemning you to a horrid fate.

Your return would be, for the first time, the reason why no ships in years (besides Ëarendil) sunk. He sensed you on the ships and safely guided you back to the shores, waiting with arms open. He would be displeased when you chose to leave with the crowd, so a little scolding is given, but he just wants you close with him from then.

[eunoiaastralwings]

Now you have to give me your character opinion on Nienna too! And Nerdanel, if you like :)

Am here finally – so sorry it took me so long to get to this hun

For our beloved Nienna:

My opinions lay closely with yours. I believe she deserves the best cuddles, kisses and praises because she is just that phenomenal ✨️

Phenomenal is not even a word for her – let's invent a new word for this Lady 😭

I truly and utterly believe she is strongest Valar by mind and spirit – even if she's taking the hurt and toll of the world she never once abandoned her duties as a Valar (not sure if they can do that but let's imagine for argument sake) – but to go on for years of this 💔 – breaks my heart.

I wish I had a way to create a very harmonious place for even and just treat her like a queen 😭

I wanted to say the fandom is mean to her as well – but look at us we are praising in reality I do believe Tolkien did her dirty because she's the only Valar without a spouse or supposed love interest.

But we have Melkor, but, I mean we all know what happened between him and Mairon behind the walls of Angband 😉.

Though I do believe there is something about this rare pair ship of Melkor and Nienna 👀 – like I see the potential here and we really need to explore more into this ship.

Also – am aware in the earlier drafts she was supposed to be Mandos' spouse am like why have changed that ? 😭– but I also love Vairë so.

Like I understand – she has her brothers Mandos and Irmo – but is that enough not only is she taking in the tears of the broken world but she has no one closely by her side like Irmo has Estë and likewise Mandos had Vairë – they could relay on each other while Nienna had no one.

As to that reason – am secretly working on a new oc 😌 (other than my Cóloniélë – I shall reveal no more *dramatically leaves through sudden smoke*

For my wifey Nerdanel:

Listen for this beautiful, freckled, hot, sexy redhead mama – I could go on for hours.

Like this queen can do whatever the fuck she wants to me.

Fëanor isn't here – he got his chance and he blew it so she's mine now and I'll treat her like how she was supposed to be treated like a proper queen.

Like if I had to fight Fëanor to get Nerdanel – like I would I do not care I'll go through hell and back for her and sure has hell don't break her heart and always choose her over some silly 3 pieces of shiny stones.

Like this woman – build and carried large statues can you imagine her actual built 😳 😭 like Tolkien describes her as not the "fairest of her people" – but like if I was one of them elves in Valinor I'd be swooming over her ever single chance I get ! !

I could literally go one for more but. . . I already wrote like a whole lot of smut on her here 😭😂 – I have a problem

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Morifinwë

Rating: M

Pairing: Melkor x Caranthir

Others: Mairon 

Prompts: Stalking | Attention 

Themes:  Dark | NSFW

Warnings: Revenge | Manipulation | Corruption | Kissing | Possession/ Necromancy

Wordcount: 3.8k words

Summary: After he is humiliated by Fëanor, Melkor devises a way to take revenge

A/n 1: this is the last of the three fics that have been inspired by these prompts by @cilil

A/n 2: In this AU, only Utumno was destroyed, as the Valar did not know yet about Angband. Furthermore, Mairon did not join Melkor prior to his capture and chaining. He still served Aulë, but secretly functioned as Melkor’s lover and spy. This story takes place just after Melkor is released from Lumbi, and before to the Darkening of Valinor

Etymology of Maglor’s wife’s name, Indilien: Indil(Lotus) ien (suf. feminine ending; feminine patronymic). This is her father-name, and Morilindë ("Nightingale"), is her mother-name.

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

The fourth son of Fëanor was whom Melkor sought first, much to Mairon’s dismay. “Of all the sons of that accursed Fëanor,” he asked, incredulous, “why him, my lord?”

Ah, why him, indeed. “Because his father shamed me before the others in Tirion and cursed me,” Melkor returned. They always met in secret, near the dark and lonely slopes of the Hyarmentir, where a primordial being was supposed to have devised their liar. Few came this way for fear running afoul of that dark creature; for Melkor and Mairon, it was a place where they could meet and talk freely, far away from the prying eyes of others. “That is why.”

His most trusted servant did not understand him. “Morifinwë is in a dour mood during the best of times, my lord, and too quick to anger during the worst of it. Besides, his gifts are middling at best. Pray tell me how one such as he would serve your purpose when one of the others would do.”

“Nelyafinwë and Turcafinwë command the affections of the Valar they serve.” Melkor did not lose patience with Mairon. Then again, he never did. The Maia served him diligently and well and loved him the way no other did. And if he was to serve Melkor properly in all things, he needed to know what plans his master had conceived. “And Oromë and Tulkas will stop at nothing to shield them from me.”

“Kanafinwë and Curufinwë the younger, then,” Mairon countered in return. “One is a gifted minstrel; the other is said to be as gifted a craftsman as his lord father. Their corruption would add more luster to your victory over Fëanor, surely.”

“Kanafinwë?” Melkor answered with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Bah! What use would I have for more minstrels? As for Curufinwë the younger… He is too fond of his father, while the warbler everyone swoons over is all too fond of his lady mother. You told me this yourself. I cannot afford to have either of them confiding with their parents; it will ruin all my plans.”

"Which, of course, leaves you with the one everyone calls Moryo and the twins.” Mairon now understood. Trying to influence the other four sons of Fëanor could lead to their undoing, and then all would be lost once the Valar learned of their schemes.

“Yes. Those three will do. They may not be as formidable as their brothers, but I will still have three sons. Three sons, Mairon, to help bring down the mighty Fëanor and heap shame upon his head. It is only proper, I think, given how he shamed me.”

“The twins would be harder to influence,” Mairon pondered aloud. “So, we should start with Morifinwë. He is often by himself; I have seen it with my own eyes. He should be the easiest to convince to join your cause. I will find out what he desires, my lord, and you must offer it to him. You, my lord, and not I. Your path will be easier to traverse after that.”

“And this is why I am convinced I made a wise choice by seeking you out.” Melkor caressed Mairon’s hair, his cheek. The Maia shivered and closed his eyes, coming ever closer to him. “Will you be vexed by this, precious? My seducing others?”

“I take no quarrel with you giving of yourself to others, my lord, so long as I am not expected to just sit in a corner and watch while you enjoy yourself,” Mairon jested, his blazing eyes filling with wicked humor. Melkor threw his head back and laughed.

Thus began the Vala’s quest to corrupt Caranthir and bring him under his influence. He started by listening to Mairon’s tales of where the elf went and what he did. It had been easy for the Maia to coax such information out of the lips of others. He listened to maids and stewards and cooks alike, for they saw and heard more than their lords and ladies ever did. They called on the Great Forge, needing something mended or something new crafted, and they talked with him while they waited. And Mairon took great care to welcome them well and reward them with harmless little tales in return, just enough to rouse their curiosity and encourage them to continue confiding in him.

He discovered much. Caranthir did not just wander off by himself. He was often lonely, having pushed the others away because of his dark moods and fiery temper. Oh, his kin loved him, to be sure, but he made it hard for them most of the time. And he envied his brothers for how each of them had neatly paired off with another, leaving him with no one. That little morsel of knowledge was repeated to him by a cook who had oft seen his lord looking on wistfully while Maedhros listened to Maglor sing, or while Celegorm taught Curufin the finer points of hunting, or while the twins drove everyone and themselves to distraction with their many capers.

And that was not all. “He craves to be known for his own skills,” a handmaid of Nerdanel said. “And he wishes to wed a lady of high birth and fortune. My lady tried to counsel him. She urged him to be patient with himself and to temper his expectations when it comes to marriage, advising him that it is better to wed for love than for wealth. Alas, such is not enough for Lord Caranthir when he weaves his world of dreams.” 

It may not have been enough for Caranthir and his ambitions, but it was certainly enough for Melkor and his. He took advantage of the knowledge Mairon had gleaned from the others and appeared in all the places Caranthir frequented. He would linger just long enough to capture the elf’s particular attention, rewarding him with the occasional smile and going no further than that. Mairon counseled him to conduct himself this way, so that Caranthir approached him first.

“Make certain you are seen by him and by him alone. And wait for your prey to come to you, my lord,” he had urged, “for only then can you truly ensnare him in your clutches.”

Melkor heeded all Mairon had to say, and he agreed the Maia’s way was best.

Melkor listened to all that Mairon had to say, and he agreed the Maia’s way was best. 

And wherever Caranthir went, Melkor was there: in the great library of Tirion, in the city square, walking along the paths of the city’s many gardens, or seated by the edge of a fountain, trailing his hand over the surface of the water. Wherever he found himself, Melkor was there.

It unnerved the elf in the beginning. His father and mother and all the others warned him, saying, “If you should ever come upon him, turn sharply on your heels, and walk away. Melkor is full of cunning and treachery. He will no doubt try to trap you with his lies.”

But Melkor did not approach him, strange as it may have been. The Vala never sought him out and never introduced himself to him. He did not even speak to him. He would simply turn his piercing gaze toward him and then look away. Sometimes, not always, but sometimes, Caranthir swore he smiled before he turned his attention elsewhere. The elven lord was amazed, for Melkor was said to be cold and cruel, and the crimes he had committed while he held lordship of Utumno were nigh unspeakable. And yet, there he was, rewarding an elf, a being he was believed to hold in contempt no less, with a sliver of his regard. Caranthir did not utter a word of such encounters, not to his mother and father, and not to his brothers. He thought they would insist that he be accompanied by one of the others, like he was no more than a child. The notion, quite rightly, chafed at him.

And, truth be told, Caranthir found himself enjoying the attention.

“Hail and well met, my lord.” He had espied Melkor seated upon a marble bench and approached him after mustering his courage. He looked around. The gardens were empty; there was no one to see them together. “It is not often I find anyone here at this particular hour.”

Nor would there be, had Mairon not learned of it from the others.

“Hail and well met, my lord Morifinwë,” Melkor replied warmly. “I came here because I was told the gardens were best enjoyed when there was less of a throng moving about them.”

It was a lie. Melkor did not care a whit about the gardens. He missed the smoky mountains he called home, the great keep he delved beneath it, and the ice and snow that lay thick around the great realm he had claimed for himself. Nevertheless, he was willing to endure the growing things that lay all about him if it meant achieving his goal. 

"Indeed, my lord,” Caranthir agreed, and he moved to sit beside the Vala after he was invited to do so. “I too prefer the gardens this way, when the others are not present.”

Do you truly enjoy the gardens when the others are not present, or do you prefer it that way so as not to remind yourself that you are alone? Melkor guarded his tongue even as he studied the elf discretely. Caranthir was ruddy of skin like his mother, and black of hair like his father. His clear amber eyes, a rare thing among his kin, held within them the light of Telperion, as did the eyes of all the elves of the Blessed Realm. And they glittered like new gold.

Find out what he desires and offer it to him. And thanks to his beloved, Melkor now knew what the elf desired: companionship, the affections of one of high birth and rank, and a chance to stand out from among his brothers. Easy things to be sure, and Melkor prepared himself to offer them all. 

“Tis a strange thing to see eyes such as yours,” Melkor observed with a casual air. “Of grey and green and blue and brown I have seen aplenty, but not eyes such as yours. They are like new gold, fresh from the forge.”

Caranthir flushed, never having received such praise before. Oh, he had received praise before, but never like this, and never from one of the Exalted Ones, no less.

“If only the others saw the same,” he grumbled to no one in particular, and looked at the heavens. The stars shone brightly against a vivid indigo and lilac sky. The spectacle took his breath away and made him feel grateful to have someone, even one such as Melkor, seated beside him. It made him feel less alone. “I thank you, my lord, for your words. Pray why are you here? I was told there is a great feast in Valmar for all of the Valar.”

“Feasts and frivolous frolics are of little interest to one such as myself,” Melkor lied again quite easily. In truth, he rather enjoyed the occasional feast; he just did not enjoy being around those that played a role in his downfall and the destruction of Utumno, like Tulkas and Oromë and that dark-haired herald of Manwë, Eönwë. If asked by Mairon, Melkor would admit that he would rather dine with the ravenous creatures of the Void than eat and drink and laugh with the likes of them. “I prefer quieter pursuits, such as enriching my knowledge. The great library is a special favorite of mine.”

“Indeed, I have seen you there myself,” Caranthir said, thinking this explained why Melkor was there at the same time as him. “The solitude and the smell of books are quite wonderful, are they not?”

“Yes,” Melkor agreed, smiling. “They are quite refreshing indeed.”

He invited the Elven Lord to join him for a meal. Alas for Caranthir, he could not tarry for much longer. Maglor had pledged himself to another, and his mother and father had planned a great feast to announce it to the others.

“Lady Indilien is a fine lady, to be sure,” he went on to add, “and everyone is quite pleased with my brother’s choice of bride.”

“Everyone but you, that is?”

“My brother is a prince of the Noldor,” Caranthir answered disdainfully, “and his lady is of low birth. Still, I suppose, it is better than him marrying one of the Teleri, like that half-uncle of mine did.” 

“A prince of such a great House must be mindful of those he invites into his inner circle.” Melkor took care not to overreach his aim. Caranthir was easy to anger and easy to drive away. His plans would still come for naught if he took one misstep even now. “It is well and good that you see it this way. Farewell, Lord Caranthir. I will not keep you here any longer.”

“Farewell, my lord,” said Caranthir. He was pleased to see that Melkor thought the same way as him, for those such as the children of Fëanor had to take care with those they invited into the family. “Until we meet again.”

Caranthir never ceased his visits to the gardens of Tirion, having been intrigued by the Vala he met. He always came when it was devoid of elves and Ainur, and he always came alone. Melkor made certain to be there, seated upon the same marble bench and feigning to admire the starlit indigo and lilac skies, when he arrived and found him.

They talked, and of many things. Caranthir’s ambitions, his thirst to be as known as his brothers, Maedhros and Maglor, and Celegorm and Curufin, his mother and father, and his aspirations when it came to marriage. And Melkor listened to it all, counseling him, guiding him, and steering him down the path he wished for him to follow.

“Hunting and crafting and singing and playing at statecraft is all well and good,” he opined many a day later, after they sat down beneath the still leaves of a mighty oak and indulged in a light supper Melkor had prepared and brought with him to the gardens. It was very good. Fish roasted in herbs with thin disks of fry bread, Caranthir’s favorites. It was another sliver of knowledge Mairon had carefully gleaned from the cook. “And while they may be noteworthy skills, to be sure, they are not the only skills to be had. Has no one spoken to you about this?”

“They have.” Caranthir stopped eating and furrowed his brows in distaste. “Sewing and dancing and poetry and sporting in the arena. I confess, my lord, that while I enjoy such pursuits, I cannot see myself achieving lasting glory with them.”

Because the gifts you possess are middling at best. The Vala said not a word of this. He did not want to insult the elf and prick his pride. Instead, he sought another way to appeal to the elf and his designs for his future. 

“Indeed,” Melkor agreed. “Such unimaginative interests are quite beneath a scion of the noble House of Finwë.” His words were honey, carefully concealing within them the poison he wished to feed to his prey. “There are other skills, my lord Morifinwë; other gifts that could be bestowed upon you. Such things are beyond your wildest imaginings, I am sure. They have been concealed from elves such as yourself in order to keep you shackled to a life of eternal service and your eyes closed to the many glories you could truly achieve. I can help you attain such glory if you like.”

Melkor is full of cunning and treachery. He will no doubt try to trap you with his lies. Those were the words his lady mother and his lord father uttered after Melkor was rebuked before the elves of Tirion and sent away. And each word rang out like a loud bell, warning him of some great and unseen danger.

What if this is another trick of his? he thought, A ploy to get back at father for humiliating him in the full view of others? Am I allowing myself to fall into some sort of trap?

“Is this one of your deceptions?” Caranthir demanded, rising. “Is this all part of some scheme of yours to rake revenge on my father?”

Melkor was perfectly calm, perfectly amiable. “It is no deception, my lord, I assure you.”

The elf was not appeased. “Do you think I am ignorant of all that you have done, my lord?” he snarled. Anger flared in his eyes, hot and sharp, marring his otherwise fair countenance. "You, who my father rightly called the jail-crow of Mandos?” 

Melkor bristled at the insult but maintained his composure all the same. Careful now, he thought, or else all will be lost.

“Forgive me, my lord, for not making myself clearer,” he said, remaining seated. It was another ploy of his to appear humble and contrite. Caranthir had been raised with a prince’s pride, and he did what he could to appeal to it. “I have been thoroughly chastened by my imprisonment and by your lord father, and I consider them lessons well learned. Come, my lord. Sit with me and hear me out. You will see that there is no trickery.”

“I am quite content to stand, my lord.”

“Very well. I have seen you, my Lord Morifinwë. I have seen how you are often by yourself, and I was moved to make myself known to you. And I have heard how you desire to set yourself apart from your brothers, how you wish to be seen as more than just a son of Fëanor. And I know how much you crave the affection of someone worthy of your devotion. Well, here I am, Lord Morifinwë… Moryo… offering all that you desire, and so much more besides. Take my hand, and all that you have envisioned will be made real.”

Caranthir regarded him, his resolve wavering, pondering if Melkor could indeed be trusted, if he would make good on all that he promised.

To have someone such as him for myself, to learn from him, the first and mightiest of the Valar… Oh! There is so much he must know! So much he could teach me! I could finally step away from the shadows cast by others, and make a name for myself. But to join with him, I cannot…

“I see you are still plagued with doubts,” Melkor observed, rising. “So let me show you what you could possess if you heed me.”

He offered his arm, and Caranthir allowed himself to be led down a paved path to a pool gilded in silver and gold. They stood side by side, while the Vala made an elegant gesture with a blackened hand, and the still water rippled as if disturbed by a pebble that had been dropped into it. And Caranthir watched, transfixed, as a vision rose to the surface of the water once it had stilled. 

He saw a mighty keep deep within the bowels of a great mountain, rich in boundless wealth and splendor. Warriors and servants and slaves and mighty beasts roamed freely throughout its many tunnels and passageways, while fires roared in great furnaces and the making of weapons and armor and objects of rare beauty could be seen. Then the water rippled again, and the vision changed. Sprites and fays and other Ainur were seated together in a chamber of dark stone, chanting and swaying, the flames of nearby candles flickering violently with the dark magic they summoned. Shades moved all around them, dreadful spirits that had left the light, and they did as they were commanded, inhabiting the forms of wolves and bats and dead things, allowing themselves to be trapped in vessels of flesh and blood. Caranthir was amazed. To hold such power, to wield the mastery of it, was more than anything he had ever dreamed of. He turned to face Melkor, overawed by what he had witnessed.

“A share of all this I am willing to give you,” Melkor said. He saw golden eyes burn like flames and recognized for himself the slow-creeping hunger for power they concealed. And now that Melkor had found the key, he knew that all he needed to do was to turn it into its proper place, and the fourth son of Fëanor would be his. “All you need to do is accept me into your heart. Accept me, Moryo, and a rich portion of what I have shown, along with my affections, will be yours.”

I would be the first elf to willingly join his cause. Nevertheless, Caranthir still dithered. To accept one such as Melkor meant to stray from the path of light and from his kin. If he left, if he pledged himself to darkness, he would never be able to return to the Blessed Realm nor see his family again.

“You still waver,” Melkor remarked, hiding his sense of triumph. Caranthir was nearly there. All he needed was a gentle shove in the right direction, and Melkor knew exactly how to do it. “Here, Moryo. Let me offer you another morsel of what you could enjoy once you pledge yourself to me.”

Without warning, he leaned forward and kissed Caranthir on the mouth. He kissed the elf for a long while, and then he growled in triumph when his new-found follower clutched desperately at his robes, sighing and kissing him back with something akin to raw hunger. Caranthir had indeed been hungry, and he feasted like an elf that had denied a great many things for an age. His kiss became mostly teeth and tongue, and Melkor more than allowed it. He wrapped his arms around him and offered all that he was willing to give. The elf accepted what was given and yielded easily, growing pliant in the Vala’s embraces and losing himself in Melkor’s smoky fragrance, the welcomed heat of his breath, and the sweet taste of his mouth. And then Melkor drew back, exulting.

Caranthir was his. He could see it in the lust flaring in the elf’s startling eyes.

“That was all so good,” Melkor began, “but it is not enough. Come with me, Moryo, and let me take you somewhere more secluded. I wish to show you the joys of flesh cleaving to flesh.”

What is there for me here, truly? The elf regarded him, then looked over his shoulder at the path he walked down on. What chance is there for me to achieve what I desire if I remain here? And to master the powers that he showed me, to taste more of what he is willing to offer—his knowledge, his body...

When he turned to face him again, a decision had been made.

“Long have I craved to experience this,” he confessed, flushing. “Lead on, my lord.”

Original image: Ed Robertson/Unsplash

[namchyoon]

Bad lighting aside, I got bias wrecked to hell and back, and Wild Flower made me about cry at my desk 😭 everything about that performance was just *chef’s kiss*

you're so real for this

[cilil]

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 | 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Melkor x Mairon 𓄌 Synopsis: Melkor decides to join the hunt to search for fire spirits. Mairon's hunt is cut short when the Dark Vala finds him. 𓄌 Warnings: Ultimately consensual, but I'll issue a slight dub-con warning to be safe. Also rough sex and some fighting 𓄌 Oneshot (~2.1k words) | AO3

That little game of Oromë's was entertaining, he had to admit. 

Melkor had been informed by his spies that another Feast of Horns was about to take place and had decided to join the Hunt as well, looking for his favourite prey: Fire spirits. Two in particular that had caught his eye, to be exact. 

He hadn't attended the other festivities, of course, being at war with his brethren and not welcome in their realm as it was, but to sneak past any and all who might hinder him to secretly mingle with the Hunters as they dispersed in the fields and forests around Almaren had been laughably easy; on a night like this, vigilance was low. 

Now all Melkor had to do was locate his prey and claim his catch, ideally far away from prying eyes where he would be undisturbed and any cries for help would not be heard. Discarding his raiment for the time being, he concealed his presence and began his search. 

Arien was the one he found first. She was running through the fields of Arda, laughing and carefree, hand in hand with Ilmarë. Eönwë and Tilion were in hot pursuit, and Melkor glared at them from the shadows. Too many others around. He would not have her today, that much was clear, and the thought angered him. Having to yield his prey to lesser Ainur, how utterly irritating. 

Mairon better be alone tonight. Melkor's impatience would not allow another unsuccessful hunt. He had no intention to settle for something other than what he wanted. 

His anger quickly disappeared once Arien and her companions were out of sight and he caught Mairon's trace. The other Maia indeed appeared to be hunting by himself at the moment, as he was wont to do; he preferred working alone and having the fruits of his labour to himself, driven by his ambition to surpass his kin. 

Melkor found him sneaking around in the deeper parts of a nearby forest, golden eyes gleaming in the twilight as he searched for something, most likely a good vantage point or the trace of whoever he had deemed worthy of his attention. A pair of artful spiral horns adorned his head, revealing that he was indeed one of the Hunters for this feast, but that meant little to the Vala pursuing him. He was going to have him regardless. 

Mairon froze when Melkor stepped out of the shadows and revealed himself, wearing the shape of a tall and beautiful lord. His hair, blacker than a starless night, nearly reached his waist and a matching pair of horns grew on his head like a crown of darkness. He smiled at him, showing off deadly sharp fangs. 

"Well met, little one," Melkor greeted, his voice low and resembling the purr of a huge cat. "I have come to claim my catch." 

"Your catch?" Mairon let out a small, arrogant laugh and shook his head. 

The way his flame-like hair moved around his bare shoulders only heightened Melkor's excitement and prompted him to come closer. 

"Yes. Mine." 

"I am a Hunter, as you can see. Find someone else." 

Melkor regarded him quietly for a while, torn between irritation and amusement. 

"You think I would care for the rules of Oromë's silly game, but you are mistaken," he said eventually. "For I am the greatest hunter this world has ever seen, and all that is therein is my prey if I wish it." 

Mairon merely scoffed at him, though something akin to intrigue flashed within the golden depths of his eyes. "Still you have not claimed me, so you have not earned a favour from me." 

"Then I shall." 

~ 

Melkor was on top of him before he could even attempt to flee. Letting out a vicious snarl, Mairon bared his teeth and began clawing at every inch of skin he could reach. His nails, turning into deadly claws as his rage flared and burned hot within him, drew no blood even as he fought the Vala with all of his strength. 

Yet no matter how much he struggled, how hard he kicked, how much pain he attempted to cause, Melkor held him down with ease. 

"Feisty," was all he said, and Mairon gave an indignant hiss. Seeing red, he attempted to bite the Vala's neck, only to be met with cold, nigh impervious flesh, reminding him of marble and diamonds — deceptive in the way it yielded like flesh should, yet refused to be broken.

"Are you satisfied now, little flame?" 

The question caught him off-guard, allowing Melkor to pin him to the ground with a satisfied smirk. 

"What do you mean?! Unhand me!" 

"But this is what you asked for, no? You wanted me to properly stake my claim, and I believe I have shown you my strength just now and successfully subdued you." 

Dazed, Mairon let go and looked up at Melkor. As outrageous as this capture was, there was a certain truth to his words. Brief as their struggle had been, it had undeniably gone in the Vala's favour — unsurprising though it was. Even so, the way he could so easily withstand anything a powerful Maia could do against him, within the constraints of Oromë's rules at least, was impressive. 

Melkor grinned down at him. "Well? Are you not going to call for help?" 

"I would be surprised if you didn't anticipate that possibility and made sure to catch me all the way out here to avoid it," Mairon remarked dryly. Perhaps he should be afraid, angry or disgusted, but he couldn't help feeling some sort of begrudging respect. 

"Of course," Melkor admitted, utterly nonchalant as if it was a normal thing to do. 

At least he isn't attempting to lie about it, for what it's worth. 

"I could still try," Mairon said. 

"You could." 

They stared at each for a moment. 

"Well? Would you stop me?" he challenged. 

"It depends. Could it perhaps be that you would not be doing yourself a favour if you tried?" Melkor bent down to nuzzle his hair. 

"You think I might be amenable to your advances?" Mairon hissed, but made no move to bite him again. 

"No prey you could have caught on your own would be the greatest of the Valar." 

"You would be correct, but my other prey also wouldn't have dared to hunt me." 

"You would claim that you don't enjoy being hunted?" Melkor brought his full weight down on top of him to press their fánar together. "What if it is merely a matter of pride because you don't allow yourself to be hunted by lesser spirits?" 

"You would know all about pride, wouldn't you?"

"Naturally." His fangs gleamed in the twilight. "And I also know to make this worth your time, little flame." 

"Do you now?" Mairon hated that his righteous anger was slowly but surely replaced with intrigue and curiosity. 

It was true; he thought himself greater than most of his peers and would never submit to them. To be made to submit by a greater power, however, was new and strangely exciting, even if his pride was wounded. 

He licked his lips. The Feast of Horns was the time to indulge, and nobody had to know. 

"Very well then. You may have your favour, even though your catch was rather clumsy." 

Melkor laughed, then captured his lips in a greedy kiss. It was nothing like the tender caresses Mairon had seen his lord and lady or other Maiar exchange, it was teeth and tongue and violence, and he bit the Vala's bottom lip in retaliation for his shameless claiming of him. Again soft skin yielded to the force of his bite, but didn't break; the taste of Valarin blood continued to elude him. 

"Fiery creature," Melkor purred, drawing back to admire his prey. Despite his best efforts, Mairon was unmistakably flustered panting heavily and pouting at him, cheeks flushed. 

He felt angry. Aroused. Alive. Defying the Dark One's withering grasp, his flames burning bright inside him. And Mairon saw these strange sensations mirrored within Melkor's eyes, cold like splinters of ice yet glittering like frost in the light of Illuin and Ormal, aglow with a fey light set within Void-like darkness. 

It was as unsettling as it was exciting to do this to a Vala. 

Mairon bared his teeth, showing fangs of his own; a challenge that wouldn't remain unanswered. 

With just one large, clawed hand, Melkor flipped him around as if he weighed nothing. Mairon found himself lying on his stomach, arms and legs spread wide, vines slithering out of the ground to restrain him. What little he wore was torn to shreds within seconds, and he was left exposed to his enemy — enemy turned lover. 

Even so, he wasn't going to make it that easy. 

Mairon fought against his restraints, struggling, biting, setting them on fire, only to make no progress. Hearing Melkor laugh at him once again enraged him. 

"You would force me to endure such treatment?" he hissed over his shoulder. 

"Easy there, little flame. You will enjoy this." 

Before Mairon could ask how the Vala had the audacity to make such assumptions — ignoring the way his arousal spiked with every futile attempt at escaping — he felt two hands taking hold of his ass and a tongue pressing against his entrance. A strangled moan made its way past his lips when Melkor proceeded to lick and kiss him with such vigour that he feared he would be devoured if his muscles relaxed just a bit; a prospect so tempting that he did, inviting him in. 

Nobody had ever touched him like this. Nobody had such strength and passion alike. 

Mairon rested his head on the ground and let himself be eaten out, even pushing his hips demandingly in Melkor's direction as far as he was able. 

"Naughty," he heard his voice again, this time through ósanwë. 

When that wonderful tongue was withdrawn, Mairon protested with small, impatient whine, though said no more; he knew what would be next, and after Melkor's efforts he was convinced that this illicit coupling, too, would bring him pleasure unlike any he had previously known. 

The first thing he felt was pain. Had his fána not been restrained and cleft in two by a Vala's cock, he would have responded with a snarky comment, but all he could do was gasp and groan and frantically adjust to its size. 

"You must not be used to this," Melkor whispered in his ear, now coming to rest on top of his helpless lover to cover his fána with his own. "But I prefer it that way. I want you to feel me and remember it well." 

"Do not... think for a second that I will be yours... after one night," Mairon hissed through gritted teeth. 

"You will want no other." 

Melkor accentuated his words with one well-aimed thrust, and suddenly pleasure bled into the pain. Now that his fána slowly grew accustomed to the Vala, the only thing Mairon could think about was how nicely his cock filled him, how it rubbed and pushed against his sensitive spots with every movement, how it caressed his rim as if it had been made for that purpose. The intensity of it all made it feel divine, so much more than anything he had experienced in his existence. 

Mairon relished every moment of it. Every thrust, every small noise Melkor made, every inch of skin against skin, every time hands dug into his flesh with fierce possessiveness. Perhaps he would indeed want no other after this, as he doubted that any other Ainu would fuck him like this. Without his arrogance, without his pride, he was well and truly stripped bare of all bravado and reduced to his base instincts, to a being filled with hidden desires, lust and a secret craving to be made to serve another, one greater and more powerful. 

He loved that he had made a Vala chase and catch him. He loved that Melkor showed him how much he wanted him. He loved that he was taken in a manner worthy of one who called himself a hunter of hunters. 

And he loved that, in the end, his flesh and his voice were what made a Vala come undone. 

Melkor held his hips in a bruising grip as he came, seeking to leave his mark with jealous determination. He didn't know if there were any others, and Mairon felt no obligation to tell him; perhaps he could retain the Vala's admiration and attention if he kept him on edge. 

"Mine," Melkor growled in his ear. 

Whether or not it was intended as a threat or a warning, all Mairon heard was a promise. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @destinyeternity1 @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @sauron-kraut @singleteapot @urwendii

[floatysparrowthing]

“Look, Verin,” his brother’s voice sounds in his head. “I know it’s hard and perhaps… I should be more sympathetic.” Verin gets to his feet and tries to catch the handle of his glaive as the demon flails with it still stuck in his arm. “Do you know what I’ve found that helps? A cat.”

“I am”—Verin finally catches hold of it—“a little busy”—pulling the glaive only brings down a fountain of stinking black ooze on him—“right now.”—but the demon is now distracted by his echo and Verin takes the chance to go for its belly—“But good to hear from you”—he slashes upward, looking for any important organs—“I will consider”—and has to scramble to the side to avoid getting stepped on—“getting a cat.”

The Savior of the Damned

Chapter 3: Abysmal Pleasures

In which Verin is very conflicted.

Under the stars, in a quieter-than-usual Bazzoxan, the visit feels almost clandestine. Verin has been obfuscating how often he sees Mairon: rotating the guards frequently, being vague about his Taskhand duties, and wearing dark clothing to avoid being noticed.

He’s not sure anyone else would understand why he’s getting to know Mairon and spending so much time talking about mundane things. Trust is not a word anyone in Bazzoxan would apply to a demon. Of course, neither would Verin. But desperate times, desperate measures, and all that.

Tonight, Verin sits leaned against the far wall and Mairon lounges on his bed. Verin suggests they play a classic from his youth: Never Have I Ever. When he tells Mairon the winner is the one who’s done the least, Mairon scoffs and suggests they switch it around.

“You won’t win this one,” he says, grinning.

“Don’t discount me so fast,” Verin shoots back. Of course he wouldn’t win if they play it exclusively in the horny teenager fashion, but Verin figures he can veer out of that territory.

“Alright. You go first. What has our brave hero Verin never done, but secretly wishes he could?” Looking every bit demonic, Mairon rests his chin in his hands, piercing Verin with his unwavering gaze.

Read the rest here:

[annabawritersdream]

For the Headcanons Game

ൠ - random headcanon

OC: Freya

Thank you for the ask!

Random headcanon and Freya.

This is really a tough one because I really don't have thought much about her. She's just kind of there because I felt like I had to include at least someone from Rohan to show that Enna doesn't really like the Rohirrim. Freya is Éomer's ward and her story is kind of similar to Adanel's (poor girl who has been taken in by someone who is far more powerful than he is). Since she's a bit of a wild card—careless, fun and far too spontaneous even for the Rohirrim—Éomer entrusts her to Enna in the hopes that she might handle her, tame her a little and teach her how to be a lady. He also knows that Enna is severely depressed and has no friends, so he thinks Freya might cheer her up and that the two girls might end up becoming close and develop some sort of bond. Needless to say, it doesn't really happen.

Freya tries to be friendly and is very kind to Enna, but the latter rejects her constantly and I think she'll send her away at some point. She'll mistreat both Freya and Mereida—her Haradrim maid, entrusted to her by Elessar as a part of a "let's re-educate the Haradrim" project—at any given time.

As a result of her growing paranoia—fueled by Mairon and Ioreth—she will become physically abusive towards Mereida (she'll slap her, for instance, when she doesn't get Westron words right the first time around and when she thinks she's not made the bed properly and that kind of stuff).

She'll be slightly kinder to Freya but the difference in treatment is mainly due to the fact that Freya is her uncle's ward and Enna is secretly afraid that, if it's becomes too apparent that she's actively mistreating someone from Rohan, she'll be held responsible for unintentionally starting a war between Rohan and Gondor, charged with high treason and executed. She still mistreats her and is generally horrible to her, but she tries to hold back as much as possible and resorts to insults rather than physical violence. Freya talks back to her at times, but she quickly learns she'd better shut up and do as she's asked if she doesn't want to get into trouble. Enna has the King of Gondor wrapped around her little finger so... one shouldn't really antagonize her (I'm quoting her).

Freya quickly realizes Enna has become addicted to a syrup she needs to take by Aragorn's orders and is also addicted to various other things that are supposed to help her sleep like the Middle-earth version of GOT's milk of the poppy and athelas. She looks like a ghost half of the time and, though she's really pretty, others find her scary to look at because her eyes are...empty. I suppose you have seen pictures of that shell-shocked WW1 soldier that went viral a while ago...? That's more or less what her face looks like. She's doesn't have any wrinkles, but her stare is uncannily similar to that.

Freya is concerned but doesn't say anything because she knows Enna would never listen to her and she's scared she's probably end up like Mereida. She'll eventually return to Rohan and will probably never go back to Gondor. She stays in Minas Tirith for only two years, I think.

I was thinking of having her marry Elfwine eventually, but she's a very minor character and I guess she's just kind of there in the background. As of now, she just exists basically.

I think Mereida will be a lot more relevant and will stick around a lot more because, while Enna gradually changes her mind about the Haradrim, I think she'll always resent the Rohirrim. Éomer and Elfwine won't even be at her wedding(s). Lothíriel will go as it is an excuse to meet up with Imrahil and the rest of her family, but I'm not exactly sure how her relationship with Enna is going to evolve. Probably Enna will grow to dislike her as well, I don't really know.

Éomer will probably just attend her first wedding to Eldarion, but she won't talk to him at all and he'll leave soon after the ceremony is over.

The less Enna sees of the Rohirrim, the better it is for both parties. She has her reasons to act the way she does, but I do agree that it is unfair.

I will probably touch upon Freya and Elfwine's relationship in The Handmaiden & The Prince! The story revolves around Ilmarion of course, but I'll talk about the other Middle-earth realms as well.

Anyway, thank you again for the ask!