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#Mairon is a big cat
i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year
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A tiny gift...(and happy October everyone)
@melkors-big-tits....Thank you for being a friend and for having my back and holding my hand...
You are an exceptional artist who always inspires me greatly and I am honoured to have been granted the privilege of writing a terribly irreverent and VERY cracky ficlet about your adorable picture.
The art in question 🖼️ here 🖼️
Thank you
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Words: 2k
Warnings: irreverent towards the Valar, Manwë/Ulmo implied, sexual innuendo...this is complete and utter CRACK
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How trick-or-treating was invented
“You look just like your brother when you make that face,” Ulmo exclaimed, his voice crashing like tempestuous waves against the impassive form of Manwë, Lord of a lot of winged things.
“Uh-oh,” one of the tadchicks – neither entirely tadpole nor truly eaglet – whispered conspiratorially to the bobbing flock of their siblings, “they’ve invoked Melkor, The Great and Terrible.”
It was always a bad sign for the atmosphere in the Undisturbed Lands (which were shaken by the various disagreements of its inhabitants on the daily) when Manwë’s brother was mentioned. Melkor was a last-ditch insult betraying despair and lack of inspiration, akin to a series of phenomena ending in “-phobia” in another world they knew nothing of yet. 
“I’ll show you how alike my brother and I are,” Manwë howled after a moment of silence; just like the winds he controlled, he took a long time to take a deep breath before unleashing the violence of his anger. 
“Bring it!” Ulmo cackled derisively just as one particularly forward tadchick – small and a tad more rotund than was the norm – nudged their unofficial leader. 
“We should go and seek out this Melkor-creature,” the brazen youth piped up, “and see for ourselves if he is evil incarnate.” 
Acquiescent murmurs broke out among the unusual creatures (for there were neither accidents nor abominations here since the departure of the self-same Melkor who was kept alive and present by the incessant gossip of the Valar) who were as of yet unnamed due to their vast number and the lack of inspiration of their genitors. 
Clearly, their minders were otherwise occupied and hence, they theoretically could sneak out unseen to make their way to the legendary fortress of Utumno. As children of any kind and species were wont to do, they believed in the feasibility of their hare-brained plan and were blissfully ignorant of their glaring lapse in judgement: if Melkor was indeed the most terrible and cruel of all existing beings, it would undeniably have been a woefully injudicious decision to call upon him unchaperoned and unprotected by the might and power of their parents.
Invigorated by their own enterprising spirit, they were about to set out on their epic quest when a truly pathetically small tadchick suggested that they might want to disguise themselves for good measure. How they expected to fool the Lord of Utumno, brother and almost equal of their esteemed father, by such a subterfuge remains a mystery to this day, but – deciding that Varda’s white-faced anger was the most frightening sight they could think of – they attempted to recreate that horrifying sight by covering their heads with thin blankets, woven of tears and starlight and other immensely precious elements that should never be defiled in so callous a way.
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“There’s someone at the door,” Mairon declared, stretching out lazily on the chaise longue to make it very clear that it would fall to Melkor to check who dared disturb them in their bubble of carnal intimacy.
Watching the godly – in shape, in temperament, and in nature – creature get up wearily, Mairon chirped: “My dear Lord, would it not be judicious to clothe your magnificence?”
It was highly unlikely that their foes – lazy, self-indulgent, and highly superstitious idiots that they were – would present themselves in the middle of what he supposed had to be “night” to them, but it was still better to pre-emptively eschew a situation in which Melkor would have to wrestle a handful of suicidal Eldar while naked.  Not that Mairon would have minded the spectacle; the mere thought of that image made his body prickle with nascent arousal, and he decided that, once this loathsome interruption was dealt with conveniently, he would coax his master into another romp between the sheets.
Getting up reluctantly from his comfortable sprawl, he crept closer to the door in which Melkor – clad in an array of bright violet strands of fabric impersonating a dress and a pair of plush slippers Gothmog had gifted him – stood like the wrath of…like his ownall-consuming wrath, listening to whoever was outside. 
From time to time, he nodded very seriously which would have made Mairon curious if he allowed himself such feeble-minded weaknesses. 
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After braving darkness and an unexpectedly chilly climate – they turned out to be much more coddled than they had expected themselves to be – the tadchicks were rightfully appalled to discover that the great and powerful Melkor turned out to be much less a frightening monster worthy of fireside stories and much more a huge, fleshy, broadly grinning Vala in fluffy slippers.
Summoning all their courage, they had banged their tiny arm-like appendages against the solid door with as much authority as they had been able to muster, waiting with bated breath for it to swing open to reveal a fanged, clawed, fearsome monstrosity.
After all the mumbled and hissed references and insults haunting their home like vengeful phantoms, they had expected something truly awe-inspiring and were just the tiniest bit disappointed by the almost friendly smile adorning that angular but not unhandsome face.
Remembering their own inherent power and pointedly ignoring the undignified sign demanding they wipe off their feet (as if they would set a single foot into that unholy fortress), they started howling and screeching to – if that was somehow possible – scare the Evil Lord out of his loathsome ways.
Judging by the fond expression passing over his face, their success was middling at best; temerity overcame them and – to mitigate that partial failure – they redoubled their efforts at frightening Melkor into being a decent being once more.
“Adorable,” he commented in a raucous, gravelly voice and shouted for his lieutenant over his massive shoulder; a moment later, a lithe, fire-haired creature appeared.
If Melkor’s appearance made his proclivity for chaotic violence abundantly clear, this sly, feline predator, stalking towards the open door with the lethal grace and the flashing eyes of a big cat, was a different kind of evil altogether though. They didn’t like the look of that other one and – this came as a shock to everyone – they much preferred the half-naked apparition leaning casually against the doorframe.
In their expert opinion, the similarities between Melkor and their father lay mainly in size and girth, even though they could not deny that his generous mouth did remind them of the endless litanies and reprimands Manwë frequently spouted with so much gusto that one would have thought that harsh words tasted like candied apples to him.
The tadchicks shivered as the realisation of how much danger they really were in struck them for the very first time in all its amplitude.
“Mairon,” the not all that fearsome Vala of darkness and destruction purred, “go get some treats for the little ones!”
His words were honeyed but the commanding tone left no doubts as to his supreme power and position in the lumpy and oddly misshapen fortress he called his “home” (he did at that; there was a crooked, hand-painted sign swinging listlessly above the gaping abyss of the open door).
“Treats? Master, do you mean to insinuate that you’ll guerdon these miscreants with waffles and candy for their insolence?” Mairon made a face that might have looked cute on someone who was not eyeing the tadchicks as if theywere the midnight snack he craved.
“Don’t pout,” Melkor laughed and grabbed the narrow chin of his officer between his thumb and forefinger playfully, “and do as you are told.”
The assembly of terrified rather than terrifying youngsters took a deep, relieved breath unisono when the one named Mairon slunk back into the shadows. 
Not long afterwards though, he returned and handed his master a basket full of delicious, tasty delights that were promptly handed out to them patiently.
Unnamed and untamed as they yet were, the tadchicks started pushing and elbowing one another in their puerile eagerness to snatch up the most sought-after delicacies.
“You’re worse than the Balrogs,” Melkor chuckled, evidently taking great pleasure in discovering that his oh-so-high-and-mighty brother had not managed to bully or shame his own progeny into the level of perfection seemingly expected of every breathing thing around him either.
“And I am the Lord of Chaos,” he muttered under his breath mockingly when he saw one of the squirming creatures take a bite out of their sibling, painting the flimsy sheets they were wearing crimson.
“Tut tut,” he chided and handed the wailing victim an especially well-shaped waffle – Thuringwethil’s secret weapon – to comfort him; he knew only too well how it felt to be beaten into obedience by a slightly stronger sibling and he commiserated with the poor mite.
Reconciled, the brave little tadchick hugged their beautiful waffle to their strange chest - looking both shiny as if wet and finely feathered – and nodded their veiled little head in wordless gratitude.
"Who sired you?" Melkor then asked softly as he handed his empty basket back to the still menacing, fire-eyed naysayer who hovered at his elbow like a leashed jaguar.
Another round of shoving ensued before half of them called out the name of one of their fathers and the other half claimed the parentage of the other.
“Indeed,” Melkor hissed between clenched teeth; for a moment, the world seemed to stand still, and then he threw back his head – dark hair swirling madly around him – and laughed heartily.
“Let me give you something for them as well,” he smirked and, after disappearing very shortly (for which they were truly thankful for that Mairon-creature was eyeing them with a mix of hatred and hunger), he returned with a neatly packed bundle that was entrusted to the biggest and sturdiest of their party.
“Those are their favourites,” Melkor explained, “now run home before they get too worried about you.”
Another wave of murmuring stirred the tadchicks into a whirlpool of frantic motion as the offering was handed around, sniffed thoroughly, and approved as exceptional.  
They were truly agog to find Melkor to be not only shockingly comely instead of tear-inducingly repulsive, but also generous, humorous, and even kind. 
“Shoo now,” Melkor repeated cheerily, waving his massive hand enthusiastically at the group that was slowly making their way back home, bobbing up and down in their eagerness to analyse and discuss every hair on the dark Vala’s head.
“They’ll be livid,” Mairon chortled from behind Melkor’s broad back, raking his fingers down the ropes of tense muscle teasingly, “but I suspect that this was what you had in mind?”
“Nonsense,” his master contradicted, “cuties get treats! That’s a rule. And as I am the undisputed King of Cuties, I get the most!”
Turning around quickly, he grabbed Mairon’s chin once more and pressed a passionate kiss on those primly pursed lips about to open to let out a sharp riposte. 
“Who could truly blame me if my most selfless goodwill ends up corrupting their little creatures?” Melkor chirped innocently, underlining his words with a nonchalant shrug, and – hips swaying invitingly – returned to the chaise longue that had been deserted by Mairon. 
He threw a single melting, languorous look over his shoulder as he sank down on it with surprising grace. 
“You want waffles too, right?” Mairon cocked one eyebrow.
“Please?” 
Shaking his head, the dutiful, loyal lieutenant decided that he’d drown the baked goods in so much syrup that it would be positively impossible for Melkor not to drip all over his barely clothed chest.
It would fall to him to clean his master and get him into a proper state – worthy of his birth and station – before bedtime. What one didn’t do for duty! 
He bit back the chuckle and joined Melkor on the couch, sinking into his luminous, mesmerising eyes as much as into the soft cushions.
“Open up wide, King of Cuties,” he scoffed and tore off a tiny strip of waffle to taunt Melkor into that second round he had been aiming at this whole time.
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So, this kicks off October for me.
Have a nice month and - if you enjoy my rambling - I'll do an October ficlet run for the @fellowshipofthefics Fotfictober Challenge. You can already go look at the pairings.
And...I might just combine the one or the other with the corresponding kinktober prompt. Who knows? Stay tuned.
Lots of love from me <3
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atane-is-here · 6 months
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Dork Lords being cute together
Sloth & Diligence
@deadlysinsofangbang
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cilil · 6 months
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"Mine." His voice was a low growl, warning and triumph at the same time. He had no patience when it came to claiming what he considered to be his, and the treasure he held in his hands was irresistible.
✦ ⁺ ‧ Day 1 ⁺ Melkor x Mairon ✦ ⁺ ‧ Synopsis: The father of dragons plays with his favourite treasure. ✦ ⁺ ‧ Featuring/prompts: Monsterfucking, draconic!Melkor, size difference, roleplay ✦ ⁺ ‧ Warnings: Smut, rough sex (consensual) ✦ ⁺ ‧ Writer challenges fulfilled: No. 2 (Mairon has a 🐱) Also available on AO3
AN: First one for @silmsmutweek! Suggested by @celebbun, thanks for the idea~
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"So pretty..." 
Golden chains and exquisite gemstones tinkled softly when Mairon shifted on the huge satin pillow he had been placed on like a crown jewel, showing off his beauty. His fána was bare safe for the jewellery he wore, from a filigree circlet to chain-like anklets, not a single piece of fabric near him that could be used to cover himself. With every rise and fall of his chest, a pair of rubies glittered in dim light of braziers, attached to tiny golden hoops that pierced his nipples, and his arms and fingers were adorned by countless golden bands of all shapes and sizes, all of them crafted by his own hand. Even his lips and eyelids were golden, and his fiery eyes were gleaming with excitement as he beheld the great, dark figure watching him in silence, seated on another pile of gold nearby. 
"The most precious treasure in my hoard..." 
A couple of smaller trinkets were knocked over and rolled across the floor when Melkor's tail twitched, betraying his excitement. Smooth black scales scraped against metal and stone, nearly invisible in the shadows except for their iridescent shimmer, and clawed fingers dug into a pile of gold as if he was getting ready to pounce. 
Melkor was larger than usual in this form, tall and strong like a Balrog. His fána appeared as though a beast slumbering within could no longer be contained, with patches of scales covering parts of his body and sharp, antler-like spikes protruding from his shoulders and elbows, alongside a pair of curved horns adorning his head. Like Mairon, he wore no clothes. Purple eyes fixated the Maia without blinking, and he licked his sharp fangs like a cat about to enjoy a delicious meal. 
And that was precisely what he would be today, Mairon thought to himself, his heart beating faster in anticipation. He knew Melkor could hear it too, saw the telltale twitch of his ears as they focused on him. Under normal circumstances he might have had a clever retort, might have challenged the Vala's possessiveness for his own amusement, but not tonight. Perhaps there had been a time where he would have attempted to escape, like a tiny bird helplessly flapping its wings in the jaws of a predator, yet right now, he was just a pretty trinket, another treasure to be hoarded and possessed, and the mere thought excited him. 
Mairon felt a treacherous droplet of arousal leaking from his fána and dripping down his thigh, and the sudden dilation of Melkor's pupils and deep inhale revealed that he had smelled it before his eyes had even caught the movement. Swift and soundless like a shadow, the Dark Vala moved towards him. His eyes studied him once again, eerily calm, and Mairon met his gaze fearlessly. He was going to be taken and devoured like a delicious piece of prey and he was looking forward to it. More wetness pooled between his thighs, and with one decisive movement, Melkor grasped his knees to part them. 
"Mine." His voice was a low growl, warning and triumph at the same time. He had no patience when it came to claiming what he considered to be his, and the treasure he held in his hands was irresistible. Soft, glistening folds presented themselves to him, a lovely rose gold shade, and the next thing Mairon felt was a big, rough tongue beginning to lick him, causing him to squirm on his pillow. Large clawed hands seized his hips immediately to hold him in place as Melkor continued to taste him, mercilessly coaxing more liquid out of him and providing additional lubricant. 
He was going to need it to take him in this form, Mairon knew. It was going to push his fána to its limits, but his excitement was stronger than any fear he might have felt. Enduring the strength of his Valarin lover was a matter of pride just as much as it was a matter of pleasure. 
Melkor's tail wrapping around him and his tongue licking a wet stripe across his torso was the only warning he got. In one swift, decisive motion, he was flipped onto his stomach and felt something hot and pointed prod his entrance impatiently before pushing inside. Taking just the tip of it was already a struggle, causing Mairon to gasp and groan with every movement of the Vala's hips. Melkor opened him up through the sheer size of his monstrous form, forcing him to accommodate more and more of his cock. 
If he wasn't an Ainu, such a coupling would be beyond his body's ability to handle, Mairon knew, and the thought excited him. He was leaking all over the massive length impaling him, allowing Melkor to slowly but surely enter him completely, marked by a triumphant growl. His fána was so deliciously, maddeningly full, his lower body bulging with every thrust and brushing against the pillow underneath him. The jewellery he was wearing glittered and tinkled incessantly, and it seemed to entice Melkor even further. 
"My beautiful, precious little gem," he purred in his ear, nuzzling the back of his neck and nibbling on soft skin. 
Mairon was held in place by his weight, his tail and his claws, like heavy chains wrapped around him, and Melkor's larger form covered his. Yet the sensation of feeling so utterly trapped and at his mercy was both thrilling and strangely comforting, satisfying a deep, primal need of belonging to another and being possessed. Every thrust opened him up more, the sensation both pleasurable and painful, its intensity causing him to moan and scream to his lover's delight. 
It didn't take long for Mairon to climax, his fána desperately clenching around the monstrous cock inside, its girth and texture causing it to relentlessly stimulate all of his sensitive spots. Melkor chuckled as he felt the Maia's smaller form weakly squirt more wetness all over his cock. 
"Eager, are we?" He accentuated his question with a particularly vicious thrust and revelled in the sensation of Mairon twitching and trembling underneath him. "But I'm not done claiming you yet, my love..."
"Ah – please-!" 
Mairon couldn't tell what he was even begging for at this point, yet deep down he knew it wasn't for mercy. Never mercy – even though he knew that, ironically, he might be one of very few beings in this world that might receive it from Melkor if he begged enough. No, whatever pleas and cries fell from his gold-dusted lips were part of their game, playing his part as the treasure that he was embodying for his lover's pleasure as well as his own. 
Melkor reached out to grab as many necklaces and body chains as he could fit in his large fist and pulled, forcing Mairon to arch his back and pressing their fánar even closer together. "Tell me to whom you belong," he whispered in his ear, his voice a feral growl. "Say it. I want to hear it from you." 
"Y-yours..." Mairon failed to string together a coherent sentence when another climax washed over him, but Melkor still wasn't satisfied, tugging on his jewellery again. 
"More!" 
"I-I'm yours... belong to you... your treasure..."
"That's right." Another deep, vicious thrust. "All mine. My precious, my pretty gem, my little flame to toy with as I please." 
Hot liquid flooded Mairon's fána without warning, and Melkor purred from pleasure and relief alike. His rough lips found the Maia's cheek to kiss him as gently as he could in his current shape, fangs brushing against soft skin to leave a tantalising, tickling sensation in their wake, yet exhaustion and the tenderness of his movements weakened the thrill of danger. 
Mairon felt loose and full at the same time when Melkor pulled out and began cleaning him with his long, flexible tongue. Was the monstrous form his Valarin lover was currently inhabiting finally satisfied or would he be taken again, he wondered, but relaxed on his pillow nevertheless. After all, it was like Melkor had said: For the time being, he was merely a pretty trinket to be admired and toyed with.
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kiatheinsomniac · 1 year
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I need to see your take on how the big villains of the series (Melkor/Morgoth and Mairon/Sauron) would react to their lover betraying them. Whether they actually do something to betray them or if they just think their lover did is up to you. Give me that hurt no comfort
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☾ ⋆゚ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: I'm gonna have to write some fluff after this asjdhfgask
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: Melkor | Morgoth, Mairon | Sauron
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: character death, betrayal, violence, manipulation
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。・:*˚:✧。 melkor | morgoth
♡ he's livid when he finds out. Livid. He likely goes on some sort of rampage, smashing everything up in an anger that he finds is the only way to channel his hurt. How could he have thought you loved him? Hadn't his father said the same thing? His brother? Of course it was all lies.
♡ he manages to cool off after a while but you notice he's bristly that day and it worries you because you've witnessed his temper many times in the past. That evening, he decides to get you vulnerable, whatever your most vulnerable state may be, he gets you there because he wants this to hurt.
♡ his restraint runs thin and the first few stabs are slow, wanting to let you live long enough to pass over the panic and realise that he's doing this to you, your lover is killing you for your betrayal, and once he sees the hurt and despair in your weeping eyes, he lets himself loose and you're dead before long.
♡ he grits his jaw to hold any deemed pathetic emotion as he watched your corpse continue to bleed, a single tear rolling down his cheek as the blade clatters to the floor and he goes to wash his hands of you - quite literally.
。・:*˚:✧。mairon | sauron
♡ he seems much more put together than Melkor and, really, that only makes him more dangerous. h'e going to be like a cat playing with a mouse.
♡ he goes after your ability to stand on your own first. You betray him for another side? You're now framed for double-crossing them too, leaving you only with the option of acting along with Mairon who you think is still clueless to your doings. You betray him for your own gain? Whatever you've got has soon slipped through your fingers and you won't ever trace it back to him.
♡ he gives you faux reassurance the whole time that there are no secrets between the two of you and that he'll always be there for you, no matter how far you might fall. He just loves the paranoia in your eyes as he can tell you're thinking 'he knows, he knows' and yet you're forced to dismiss the obvious as you have no proof to uphold it.
♡ Mairon sees death as too easy for you. He'll drag this out for as long as possible just to keep you in a constant state of anxiety, to humiliate you and watch as you have no choice but to stay by his side because you've lost everything else except for the one who you betrayed. Once the act is up, he'll get rid of you but have you seen how long a cat can toy with a mouse for?
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dalliansss · 2 months
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Modern mairon finrod
your politeness is so grating. do you know that? ❜
𝑆𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 ( 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ) dir. emerald fennell  / feel  free  to  change  pronouns  and  subjects  as  you  see  fit  !
Mairon sees how slow Finrod's movements are, still. To be reasonable, his partner is still recovering from the vicious attack done on him during one of his fan-meets in Barcelona, an innocent enough event -- supposedly. It had been such a big incident. It had gone viral the moment it happened, thanks to technology and the penchant of people these days to have their smartphones at the ready, and the easy access provided by social networks. A dwarf man, named Mîm, who had recently gotten out of prison on parole, had been at the fan meet. When Finrod was posing for a selfie with a group of high school girls, the dwarf struck. It was only because of the presence of so many people that Finrod was given timely medical assistance and quickly whisked away to safety, and the hateful Mîm apprehended. That had been such a nightmare. A nightmare Mairon had hoped to never encounter. The wait in the Spanish hospital had been terrible. A dark crawl of hours into days, into weeks.
But Finrod was conscious now. And they're at their home. They're supposed to be having a midday meal and his spouse isn't talking to him -- because just yesterday, Finrod found out that he, Mairon, had not allowed his siblings to visit him while he had been hospitalized in Barcelona, and still had not allowed any such visits even though they have gone home.
Mairon defended his decision -- doctor's instructions. That Finrod wasn't to be stressed, or agitated, or over-excited. That he is supposed to recuperate quietly. That he was lucky to survive at all. And Mairon would never risk him again.
"Your politeness is so grating," Mairon hisses, pausing from slicing his tender chunk of Grade A wagyu beef. "Do you know that?"
Ever since finding out his decision to exclude family, Finrod had avoided looking at him and addressed him coolly, formally, even.
Finrod doesn't answer him. He continues to eat his softer meal -- soup, and soft bread.
There is a clatter as Mairon drops his cutlery onto the table. He stands and throws the napkin down onto the table as well, in vehemence. He will not stand for this damned silent treatment. The doctor said, no visitors, no stress. He will defend his decision to the end of time. He leaves the dining hall, intent on getting their two cats into carriers. If Finrod wanted silence, so be it. Let him have the entire penthouse to himself.
@skaelds
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fingons-rad-harp · 11 months
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ALL OF THE SILM ASKS
ALL OF THEM OKAY DAMN
under a cut bc it's gonna get longggggg
🗡️ Defend your favorite war criminal (or make them worse - I'm not your mom).
i know i say i'm a feanarian apologist in my bio but it ain't because i defend them i'm just always apologizing for their shit. nah fr though i like them because they're flawed, they killed people and i think that's sexy of them even if they were objectively in the wrong. but the reason i like maedhros specifically (and maglor but this ain't about him) is because despite the fact that he does do kinslayings and all that murder he still tries until the very end to adhere to his moral code. he does forswear the oath at one point in an attempt to resolve the conflict without bloodshed, he looks for elured and elurin in the woods because he can't bear the thought of children dying because of his actions, he takes in elrond and elros and raises them to become great leaders of both men and elves, and he does all this even AFTER losing fingon, even after all of the everything he endured, it isn't actually until morgoth has been defeated that he says "fuck it, i have nothing left to live for, let's finish this and i don't care who we have to kill to end it"
🔥 Give us your hottest Silm hot take.
i don't actually think maeglin was an adult during tfog. i think he was the elf equivalent of like, 15. this explains everything about his behavior
🌟 Which of the Valar do you feel the most affinity for and why?
probably este. i be sleeby.
⚓ Pick a Silm ship to go down with. What is compelling about their dynamic?
RUSSINGON ALL THE FUCKING WAY THEY ARE EVERYTHING TO ME IT'S ON PURPOSE THEY LOVE EACH OTHER ON PURPOSE
🤔 Tell us one of your favorite Silm headcanons. Can be one that's out in the wild or a personal one!
gil-galad as the son of lalwen and cirdan. lalwen because it fixes all of my issues about noldorin succession and cirdan because it gives more reasons for him to be ruling lindon in the third age and also why he got one of the Three rings - for a sinda he's very associated with the noldor
⏩ Which section of the Silm did you read through the fastest? (Couldn't put it down!)
beren and luthien, i ZOOMED through that chapter i loved it so much
⏸️ Which section did you read the slowest? (Not as interesting or "if I don't keep reading 'x' bad thing cannot happen)
of beleriand and its realms, mostly because i kept pausing to look at the map
🗺️ Pick a kingdom/faction in Beleriand to visit. (No matter what happens, you cannot be injured and you cannot die - yay, plot armor!)
himring! can't be injured? i'm gonna hug maedhros
🐉 A lot of figures in the Silm have weird Eldritch powers or possibly biology. Tell us about your headcanons for one.
this one isn't really eldritch but elves with tapetum lucidum. elves who have seen the light of valinor literally glow, and that light is passed down through generations (though to a much lesser degree). songs of power are also a BIG thing, and elves can learn to control various aspects of reality with enough practice. this makes maglor one of the most powerful characters in the silm. he can melt entire armies with nothing but his voice
😈 Give the villains some love. Which antagonist is most interesting to you and what about them draws you in?
sauron is great on his own but all of his motivations are so rooted in his devotion to melkor that i feel like you can't really separate them. they are the most horrible power couple in arda. their love language is acts of violence. i tend to imagine that melkor was just as devoted to mairon - "villains can't love" is so overdone to me, i want to hear about the dark lord who mercilessly and brutally tortures his enemies to fates worse than death and then presents them to his faithful lieutenant like a cat bringing a dead mouse to its owner. said lieutenant is extremely into it. sauron who does genuinely care about celebrimbor. who even loves him, though in a different way than he loves melkor. who kills him anyway, and never forgives himself for it, because his goals are more important to him.
👑To which High King of the Noldor do you owe your allegiance? Why would you offer them your fealty?
idril tbh because she's the only one in this family with a fucking brain cell
🪄You can change how one (1) Big Event goes down in the Silm - either in favor of something in HoME or something you made up. What happens instead? Tell us the cool stuff!
see the thing is i'm very canon compliant - or at least canon compatible - because you just can't change anything about the silm without fucking up everything else! i do however have an outline for an au where fingolfin wins his 1v1 with morgoth (though he does still die) and maedhros accidentally becomes a warlord and he and fingon unite the rest of everybody. it'll probably never see the light of day, but feel free to ask about it and i'll explain more
🍽️ You are having a dinner party and you can invite five (5) characters from the Silm. Who do you invite?
oh that's a HARD one. okay. feanor, thingol, galadriel, elrond, and fingolfin. i wanna see how fast it turns into the hunger games.
🔮You can reach into the Beyond and ask the Professor to settle one (1) debate for you. He won't even waffle on the answer, honest. What do you ask him?
PROFESSOR. DID YOU OR DID YOU NOT MAKE IT GAY ON PURPOSE? if not that's fine i'll keep writing gay fanfic about them, death of the author and all that (lol) but DID YOU DO IT ON PURPOSE??? THE RUSSINGON/BLUTHIEN/SAMFRO PARALLELS DID NOT GO UNNOTICED SIR.
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nin-varisse · 9 months
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How tall is Sauron?
Around maybe 50cm in his Tevildo form! He's a big cat.
Other than that, he's just a little guy, you know? In his maia form he's about 3 metres (Melkor and Manwe are around 5m as comparison). As Annatar and Tar-Mairon he makes sure to be at least a head smaller than the elves or men around him (so maybe 1,90m and 1,75m respectively) to seem harmless and innocent. Even as Gothaur he isn't really towering over his prisoners, his presence is commanding enough.
Long answer made short: HE SMOL
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domestic-iliad · 1 year
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Hello, It's your secret santa!
If you've got any Angbang headcanons I'd love to hear them!
Hi, so sorry for the late reply I read this, got distracted, thought I responded, and then realized I didn't. Whoops! But yeah, here's a very disjointed list of random headcanons I have about them! Because honestly I have no idea where to start because I have many feelings about them (too many, probably)
First, "The Seduction of Mairon" as it were was 100% mutal. Honestly this is kind of the big headcanon the kind of sets my groundwork for them lmao. I kind of see their relationship especially in the early stages as built on actually agreeing on multiple things- specifically that they actually share similiar opinions on how the world should be- and after a while of this it's actually more of Mairon who was like "I want in- get me away from Aule and we can work together on this. I'll help you organize your plans, and whatever else you require from me, in exchane for freedom and making whatever I want" and at that point Melkor was already very much romantically attracted to Mairon so like why would he ever say no.
Melkor honestly tries to put on a very uncaring and scary act- he kind of shuts down his emotions because he feels like that's what earns him the most respect/fear- but honestly that goes completely out the window with Mairon. If Melkor is worried about ANYTHING Mairon is the first to know (unless he feels it would wear on Mairon too much- I do love throwing in the occasional angst of "why didn't you tell me this" if Melkor ever keeps a secret). This generally gets worse in my mind after Melkor's hands get burned by the silmarils and after things start to go downhill- where Melkor is almost always around Mairon telling him about his worries as long as Mairon is around.
On that note the only person ever allowed to touch Melkor's hands after they're burnt is also Mairon.
Honestly like 90% of my headcanons boil down to "these two fools love each other to the same intesity of Morticia and Gomez Addams and I'm sure there's some orcs and balrogs that find the constant display of PDA sickening"
Both of their love languages consist of physical touch and lots of conversation or a 180 of simply existing in the same room like cats but not talking at all.
They would 100% do anything for each other, no questions asked. The exception is if it was obviously the most stupid/reckless idea ever but at the same time if they could offer a genuine explanation they're both very likely to do it anyway (though Marion will plan out how to the reckless idea - Melkor will 100% just rush out and do it).
And one last on because I'm running out of off-the-top-of-my-head headcanons: Mairon 100% withdraws if he feels like he failed Melkor in anyway. It's definately not out of fear- Melkor would never hurt Mairon and Mairon knows that without a shadow of a doubt- but he prides himself on being Melkor's equal and anything that makes him feel like he's not matching that crushes him. Unforuntately he is also a perfectionist so sometimes this happens over small things- even if the rest of what he was doin was a success but one things went worse than he expected. Luckily Melkor is good at getting him out of this, normally by just dragging him out of whatever room he's decided he just lives in now and sharing new plans until things are back to normal.
If you need anymore/want headcanons for anything specific I promise I won't forget to respond next time. ;n;
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batsyforyou · 1 year
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Get to Know the Blogger
Thank you for the tags @floraroselaughter​ and @ruiniel ! Sorry I’m late. 
Share your Wallpaper:
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This is a Fanart I’ve had as my wallpaper for a long time now its on my computer and phone. I don’t know who made it. 
Last song I listened to: Sovngarde (Full Lyrics and Translation) Skyrim 
Currently Reading: The DSM-5-TR Because school 
Last movie:  I have no idea
Last Show: Stargate Atlantis Season 1 episode 1-5 
Craving: Chocolate and my bed
What are you wearing right now?
Nothing attractive lol. I’m in socks that don’t match, teal joggers, a blue Scooby-doo t-shirt that is a couple sizes too big and a gray cropped hoodie.
How tall are you: Around 5′4 
Piercings: Earlobe
Tattoos: I don't have any legitimate tattoos. But in middle school I did accidentally stab myself with a pen while tracing so I a have blue pen-mark on my knee. 
Glasses or Contacts: I wear glasses but I am so over them right now so I will be trying contacts soon. 
Last drink: water
Last thing you ate: I don't know I haven’t eaten yet today. 
Favorite color: I love olive green and white 
Current Obsession: Taliesin a custom voiced modded follower for Skyrim. I have been religiously following the creators blog for any update/ask/whatever despite not having a pc lol. You can find them here if you want to check him out. 
Any pets: Yes I have two cats and one dog
Favorite fictional character: I can’t. There’s so many to choose from. Um, okay Glorfindel, Mairon, John Sheppard, General O’Neill, Steven Stone, Shaggy and like several others. 
Last place you traveled to. I don't really travel that much. I’d like to but the last place I visited was Phoenix Arizona. 
I’m not gonna tag anyone right now.
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adoseoftrees · 1 year
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Morowe’s secret form: A big capybara
They believed it was undignified, but that was the point.
As much as they preferred to be a giant ammonite or a huge black cat, both forms were not suitable for visiting the former orcs in the Halls. One was too alien and the other’s eyes caused fear.
They needed a non-threatening form. For a while they seriously considered taking a rabbit form like Laukalosse did but for unknown reason those once were orcs were afraid of rabbits WTF was happening in Melkor’s lair
(Also Entulmir was a bad example because they were the most trusting kid with no survival instinct and wanted to boop a saber-tooth.)
Rats they could understand. Although rats were tasty and very funny when they desperately tried to flee from their paws, rats ate things when they were hungry. It made sense Mairon would utilize them to eat people’s noses.
Some former colleagues visiting from their independent project on southern Middle Earth: How about a rat but bigger. They get on well with anything including those tiny long dinosaurs that roll their preys to death. And they swim
Which turned out to be a good idea? Melkor and Mairon never knew of the animal and got no chance to utilize them in whatever plans to create the orcs.
Other Maiar of Námo followed the practice.
Which meant in the darker Halls of Mandos you find no Human-shaped Maiar but groups of capybaras walking around as emotional supporting animals
(Este learned of it and ordered whole herds of the animal for her island.)
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i-did-not-mean-to · 8 months
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All aboard
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Here, friends, have a very meta little ficlet.
Husband and I plan on going on a little trip this week. This story has been read and ratified by him. He says it's very accurate. LOL
Words: 1381
Characters: I, husband, ALL the blorbos
Prompt: Road Trip
Warnings: Meta, first person
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I wake up 10 minutes before my alarm, startled and confused because Finrod Felagund is perched on my headrest like a cat, strumming his harp.
Attracted by the disjointed tune, Maglor starts singing “Morning has broken” at the top of his lungs before his mother comes to drag him away by the braid. Nerdanel has, of course, been awake for hours already, making sure her progeny is ready to travel.
Brushed and braided, the infamous sons of Fëanor are scrubbed clean and wearing holes into my carpet by pacing through the room impatiently.
My husband groans and swats away Asfaloth’s attempts at rousing him.
“Shower?” he asks groggily and I acquiesce, all but running to the bathroom and slamming the door behind me. Not for a second do I believe that locks and bolts would keep my imaginary guests from intruding, but I hope that they’ll respect my privacy, nonetheless.
“You’ll take us, right?” Ulmo asks from the warm spray chasing away my fatigue. “We are good. We won’t make any trouble.”
“You,” I reply sharply, “can make it there on your own. There is plenty of water and air where we go!”
Sniffing, indignant and clearly vexed, he withdraws.
Thus refreshed, I exit my bubble of relative peace to do a quick headcount that quickly devolves into a pounding headache instead.
“We’re ready!” Elrond promises, waving a hand at those under his care. So far, so good, I think—with the exception of Glorfindel insisting on bringing his horse, Imladris seems to have its shit together.
Sandwiches have been packed and his infamous mother-in-law is sitting on a huge crate that is suspiciously labelled “travel provisions”.
“Is there a weight limit? How much space do you have in your trunk?” Nerdanel asks in a tense voice. “My husband, bless his heart, is loath to leave his forging equipment behind. Moreover, the boys…”
I cock a dubitative eyebrow at her. Her sons are hardly children anymore, but I can almost guess how their proclivities would interfere with an extensive road trip.
I drive an SUV—a big, boxy, black car that at least theoretically should allow for some follies.
“Nelyo won’t leave without Fingon…” she adds sheepishly. “Also…Tyelko’s dog, Káno’s instruments…at least Moryo and Curvo have agreed to share a suitcase for their books.”
Knowing that it’s a vain endeavour, I don’t even ask if all of this is strictly necessary.
I love them just the way they are; there is nothing wrong with them or with me.
I repeat those words like a mantra as I stare blankly at Nerdanel’s tired face, sporting an ever so slightly forced-looking smile—the encouraging mien of a mother knowing full well that the worst is yet to come.
Giving up on that part of my inescapable company, I shiver and turn to darkness and evil personified.
“Ready!” Mairon assures me, brandishing his checklist triumphantly. He is dressed soberly and might be allowed to be seen by others—his companions…not so much. 
Melkor, inspired by too much reality TV, has donned oversized sunglasses and a silk turban to keep his hair from frizzing in the constant stream of cold air blowing out of the AC, while Gothmog is wearing a floppy straw hat that does nothing to obscure his identity. The shiny horns and the aura of pure flame are wont to give him away and I am beyond thankful that nobody else can see him.
That, as well, is a problem for a later moment, I decide and turn to the dwarven faction to explain as gently as possible that pots, pans, flutes, and weapons are less than ideal hand luggage.
As expected, this goes over like a lead balloon.
Moreover, Thranduil has decided that he and his people will join us after all—nevertheless, he demands to be allowed to travel in the passenger seat, for privacy and to be as far away from the dwarves as possible in a restricted and closed space, and my husband shakes his head vehemently.
“I won’t have one of them on my lap,” he declares cuttingly. “Stuff them all in the trunk, with their tools and toys.”
Uproar. Outrage. Screaming in various languages. Curses upon my in-laws down to the first ancestor to have ever walked this earth—I merely smirk.
“Of course,” someone whines, “nobody wants to take me.”
Whirling around, I glimpse Túrin, his lower lip sticking out a little, his arms crossed above his chest petulantly.
The humans, I think frantically, and my mind goes blank.
“We’re ready to travel light,” Boromir promises, securing his bedroll and his pack as we speak and giving me an encouraging smile. “Gondor can set out.”
“I don’t trust the iron horse!” Éomer mutters, evidently much less inclined to just throw himself into my car without having checked the mysterious vehicle vigorously for loose shoes and bad teeth.
By this time, the Valar—immortal and indestructible as they are—have agreed that they’d survey the lay of the land from the roof of my trusty metal steed rather than be confined with a bunch of unruly children.
The thought of having to wipe away incessant rain as well as bird droppings throughout the whole voyage dismays me, but I take every win I can get and don’t demure.
“The good boy can come sit with me,” my husband declares, thankfully mollified by my obvious distress, at the sight of Huan wagging his tail eagerly.
“You’ll have to take Tyelko as well—the tall blonde with the hunting knives—and, come to think of it, how about balancing Curufin on your other leg?” I jump on that tiny concession eagerly, my eyes pleading and my lips quivering pitifully.
“Will they sing the whole time?” he asks sharply and I shrug, unwilling to admit that—most probably—they will indeed.
We start the elaborate game of Blorbo-Tetris, doing our best to separate those who love each other too well or too little in an attempt to preemptively extinguish potential fires that might otherwise ruin the start of our trip.
“At least…” he starts and then retreats as Thingol and Melian, followed by their retinue, draw up to the car, eyes narrowed in disdain. They do not appreciate the fact that they had almost been left behind—again.
“Mablung,” my husband—love of my life, light of my days—sniggers, much to the dismay of the dignified elf who is not used to being hailed in so derisive a fashion.
My car now feels so full that I have no doubt it is positively bulging, but we’ve finally made it onto the road.
My beloved spouse keeps his hand firmly clasped above the button that would turn the radio on, enduring the moaning and complaining with perfect equanimity.
The smell of various, impossibly fragrant foodstuffs being unpacked and the sound of enthusiastic chewing start to pervade the air—I open a window and shoot an apologetic look at my most cherished companion.
Discordant humming and vocalizing are interrupted periodically by raucous laughter and the odd brawl in the backseat; I throw myself onto the highway, wishing it was oncoming traffic.
All the while, my phone keeps chiming softly—Discord is letting me know that my friends are alive and well, and I smile through the agonizing migraine as discussions of wedding customs arise and are hotly debated.
Many of my obstinate and obnoxious travel companions are legacies from those people across the world I love so dearly and I owe it to them not to toss their cherished characters into the nearest gas station bin, no matter how insane they’ll eventually drive me.
At least, thank Eru the One, everyone is still dressed and decent and no deadly weapons have been deployed or old grudges dredged up to be settled within this merely leased vehicle—it would be quite a feat to explain away the huge bloodstains and deep gouges to my annoying garage.
A warm, comforting hand finds mine and I avert my eyes from the road for a millisecond to grin lopsidedly at my husband.
“Did you absolutely have to bring all of them?” he asks under his breath.
My shoulders twitch as I sigh shudderingly. “I love them,” I confess, “and wherever I go, they go.”
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@fellowshipofthefics have a silly one!
Lots of love from me, I hope this little slice of my life could amuse you!
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If Mairon and Melkor existed in a modern AU, what do you think would be their respective professions, or majors in a college AU? What are your thoughts on their student / working life or role in the university / workplace community? Does Melkor throw crazy parties? Is Mairon a huge nerd? I'd love to hear your thoughts! You can also include other related characters (e.g. Celebrimbor, Gothmog, Thuringwethil, Manwe...)
Oooo, very interesting!
This got a little long, so I put it under a cut.
Mairon: 
- School/profession: There’s a couple of directions I could see his interests going in a modern AU. I could see him taking an interest in something like engineering. I could see him become a gold or silver smith and work in making jewellery (along with maybe having a knowledge of gemstones). I could even see him taking an interest in psychology or psychiatry. He’s just one of those people who wants to know how things work and how to make them work better, as well as having an affinity for things that can be obtained from the Earth. He would definitely become quite specialised and skilled in whatever field he chose. The ones I’ve listed are the ones that I think would be most likely for him.
- Community role: I would imagine Mairon would be one of those people that somehow manage to be simultaneously aloof and very clued in to everything going on. He seems to know who everyone is and everyone seems to know who he is and yet...he doesn’t exactly have the massive pool of friends you’d expect from someone so well known. He’s not shy though, as anyone who’s been unlucky enough to be put into a group with him for a project will tell you. He has zero qualms about taking charge of a group and seems to really enjoy bossing everyone around. You’re going to get a good grade with him in charge of your group, but no one is going to have any fun doing it. Yes, he does think everyone else is an idiot. Yes, he will say it to their face. Though, he can turn on the charm when it suits him.
- I wouldn’t consider Mairon a huge nerd. He knows a lot, he enjoys learning, and yet there’s something decidedly un-nerdy about him. You know those people who are infuriatingly good at school without even trying? Yeah. He’s one of those. He does value that knowledge though. He’s quite proud of his book-smarts. 
- Ooooo! If he’s still a smith it could be really interesting to see Celebrimbor be a competitor on the jewellery-making market and Maeglin might work for Mairon. (No, Sorcha, do not add this to your fanfic to-do list! Bold!) It could make for some good rivals to friends/rivals to lovers material?
- Thuringwethil is his best friend! I don’t know why, but I’m fully convinced that in a modern AU she would own a small, independent bookshop with a cat. I feel like it would be a particularly good place to find stuff nature magic kind of stuff. It’s a mysterious little place and no one really knows how she keeps it open. Maybe it really is magic..?
- Mairon likes hanging out there with her. She shares his passion for all the animals people normally label “scary”.
Melkor:
- School/profession: I could see him being interested in something like zoology. (crack idea: he works in a light fixtures shop so he can be surrounded by light all the time XD). Maybe he goes on to care for the crocodiles or big cats or something after college? Oooo, ooo, ooo, or maybe he works in the reptile house at the zoo?! Tarantulas? (on second thought...maybe not the tarantulas... XD)
- Community role: Like Mairon, I could see him as the kind to know, and be known by, everyone. Unlike Mairon, I could see him being a bit more...popular? That might be the wrong word for it, but he’s less aloof. Mairon is more like a concept. You know him, but you can’t put your finger on how... whereas, you remember your first encounter with Melkor. He has a much bigger personality and isn’t as immediately dislikable (though he really has a knack for rubbing people up the wrong way and can be quick to dislike other people).
- Manwe is his twin brother who went into the family business and fits in with the rest of the family more. Manwe actually really likes Melkor and admires the fact that he followed his own interests. Melkor is sick of other people comparing him to Manwe. The relationship can be somewhat tense...
- Gothmog is an old buddy from school. The two liked to cause problems on purpose when they were together XD
Angbang:
- Mairon and Melkor meet when Mairon and Thuringwethil take a trip to the zoo and happen to be there when Melkor is feeding one of the above mentioned animals (I still haven’t decided). Melkor sees that the two look interested and asks if they have any questions. Of course Mairon goes on about all that he already knows. Arrogant as the response is, Melkor is genuinely impressed with Mairon’s knowledge. Normally when people say they know things about the animals they really, really don’t. Thuringwethil notices that the two are getting on and wanders off to the side a bit to let them chat. When it’s time for Melkor to move on to other duties, Thuringwethil also notices that he heads back the way that they themselves had just come. Of course, she then “suddenly realises” that she left something behind at that bench they took a rest on. She tells Mairon to go on ahead and she’ll catch up in a minute. Once Mairon is out of sight, she wanders up to Melkor and gives him Mairon’s number.
- Initially, Mairon is pissed that she gave his phone number to a random stranger (understandable).
- It takes Melkor about a week to work up the courage to call or text.
- Yes, they do end up having a zoo date.
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cilil · 1 year
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Author's Note: First time writing this ship and a food play prompt. Thanks to @melkors-big-tits for requesting it! Your art inspires me a lot and I've tried my best to stick to your hcs and interpretations for them in this one♡
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ೃ♡⁀➷ Spicy Bingo: Food play + Gothmog x Melkor ৎ୭
"Want another snack?"
ৎ୭ Synopsis: Gothmog finds Melkor in the kitchen late at night. Melkor offers him a delicious dessert.
ৎ୭ Featuring: bottom Melkor, the dark lord's surprisingly successful baking attempts and his cute apron, slight monsterfucking due to Gothmog being a Balrog (I suppose), rimming
ৎ୭ Oneshot (~1.4k)
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When Gothmog decided to sneak into Utumno's kitchen for a nightly snack, he expected to stumble over a few creatures of darkness scurrying through the fortress or maybe see a fellow Maia or two going about their business. 
What he did not expect was to find the Dark Lord himself sitting on the kitchen table amidst a mess of dirty bowls and kitchen tools, holding a half-melted chocolate bar in his hands and snacking on it. 
"My lord," Gothmog greets with a small nod and looks around. Baking trays upon baking trays with fresh, sweet-smelling pastries on it cover every available surface in the kitchen, presumably made by none other than the Vala himself. 
"Gothmog." 
Melkor looks up as he acknowledges the Balrog's presence and crosses one leg over the other. He's wearing an apron, Gothmog notices, black with white frills and a blue bow around his waist, and, as far as he can see, nothing underneath. His gaze is drawn to the pale skin of his legs, stretching across powerful muscles worthy of the mightiest dweller of Arda, and he suddenly finds himself enthralled by the sight, wishing to come closer and run a large, clawed hand down his thigh. 
"You may have some of my eclairs," Melkor offers graciously and raises his hand to his mouth to lick his palm and fingers clean. 
"So you... you've been baking?" Gothmog asks, trying his hardest not to stare as he walks over to the nearest baking tray and picks up one of the chocolatey treats. It doesn't seem burned, he notices.
"I wanted chocolate eclairs, but none of the Orc chefs knew how to make them," Melkor explains with a small pout and reaches into one of the many bowls stacked on the table. Miraculously, he produces another piece of chocolate. 
"And now I have some leftovers." 
He sucks on it with a pensive expression. 
"Though... maybe I could have just eaten the chocolate instead. Oh well."
"I see." 
Gothmog clears his throat. The eclair he's eaten in the meantime is delicious, yet every bite keeps getting stuck in his throat as he keeps staring at the Vala; from his new position, he can tell that the apron is indeed the only article of clothing he's wearing. 
"May I ask why you are... dressed like this?" he questions after a moment of silence, finally gathering the courage to do so; not to mention formulating a coherent sentence while trying to catch a glimpse of his lord's comfortably seated ass wasn't an easy task either. 
"Mairon said I need to wear an apron in the kitchen," Melkor shrugs. 
"No, I meant... uh..." 
"Oh, that?" 
He stretches out his legs like a cat getting up after a nap and looks down as if it only just occurred to him that he is, in fact, barely dressed. 
"I felt hungry after going to bed. I sleep naked."
"Ah..."
Gothmog licks his lips and quickly looks down at the baking tray once again, acting like he's busy selecting another eclair. Yet no amount of attempted distraction could have prepared him for the sound of bowls and kitchen tools clattering to the floor, swept aside by a mighty hand, and spinning around to see– 
Melkor drapes himself across the kitchen table with one elegant, fluid movement, gazing up at the Maia with half-lidded eyes. Once he's sure he has his attention, he reaches for the hem of his apron and slowly pulls it upwards until his entire leg is exposed, then teasingly places another piece of chocolate on the apex of his thigh. 
"Want another snack?"
Gothmog blinks a couple of times, unsure if what he's seeing is real. Upon watching the chocolate slowly starting to melt, he eventually concludes that it must be and walks closer, placing his large hand on Melkor's thigh. His skin feels soft, he notices, yet his sharp claws barely leave scratches on him as he starts trailing them down his leg, mesmerised by the subtle paradoxes within the Vala's form. His fána appears to be soft and cold at first glance, like freshly fallen snow, yet he can feel unyielding strength slumbering within him and the heat of his presence causes his own fire to grow hotter, sparks falling from his palms and fingertips. 
Melkor watches his movements with a curious expression, prompting Gothmog to snap out of his thoughts and reach for the piece of chocolate, drawing patterns on his skin. He lowers his head, hands reverently holding on to his thigh, and proceeds to lick him clean. The feeling of his hot, rough tongue brushing against Melkor's skin elicits a soft, melodious noise of contentment from the Vala, toes curling and muscles tensing with every lick. 
Encouraged by his lord's response, Gothmog reaches for the bow of his apron and pulls until it comes undone, granting him better access. A wicked smile appears on Melkor's lips then, and he rolls over to lie on his back instead, handing him another piece of chocolate before spreading his legs. 
"Go on." 
Gothmog licks his lips and nods wordlessly. He doesn't need to be told twice. 
This time, he draws playful lines from his lord's muscular abdomen all the way down to the inside of his thighs and follows them with his tongue soon after, suppressing a soft groan as he sees his cock harden. Ever eager to serve, he gives it a couple of gentle, experimental licks–as gentle as the shape of a Balrog allows him to be, though Melkor doesn't seem to mind.  Neither the sharpness of his claws, nor the roughness of his skin, nor the heat of his form can hurt the mightiest and, in Gothmog's eyes, most beautiful of the Valar. 
Yet as much as he enjoys teasing the hot, hard length presented to him, there is another treat he wants to sample. Emboldened by his lord's arousal, he flips him around so he's lying on his stomach and  grasps those wonderful cheeks he's been eyeing for a while now to spread him wide open. Melkor lets out a low, needy whine in response, and Gothmog is more than happy to give him what he wants; and enjoy a lovely dessert for himself while he's at it. 
His tongue caresses puckered skin, teasing and circling that lovely little hole he has discovered. Muscles twitch eagerly as Melkor relaxes on the table and moans, a loud, indulgent and oh-so-sinful noise that has Gothmog's very fëa shudder in bliss. The sheer force of the Vala's pleasure causes his own cock to harden, but he doesn't want to touch himself, not yet; he wants his hands to remain where they are, greedily kneading well-rounded, muscular flesh. 
Unable to resist any longer, he pushes his tongue inside. The long, thick muscle fills the tight passage presented to him so beautifully and Melkor clenches around him, welcoming the tender, blissful penetration. In his mind, Gothmog thanks his lord for blessing his fána with such strength, enough for him to keep thrusting in and out his hole, saliva dripping down his own chin as his tongue massages the Vala's rim. He is rewarded with an utterly filthy melody of moans from Melkor's lips, coupled with his own quiet, muted groans and growls of pleasure and the wet sounds of enthusiastic licking. 
Gothmog continues as if in a frenzy, not daring to stop or even slow down until he feels a shudder going through his lord's fána. Just imagining how he's cumming all over the table right now and making a mess of himself as well as his frilly apron makes him feral, but he stops himself from replacing his tongue with his cock, as much as he would love to fuck the Vala senseless. Instead, he slowly withdraws and contemplates if he should ask for permission to touch himself, yet finds himself too shy to do so. 
Melkor rolls over to his side once more, propping himself up on his forearm. 
"Well done, Gothmog," he purrs with a lazy smile on his lips, then taps on the table with his index finger, pointing to a small puddle of cum. "Now make sure to eat up and clean me, and I may let you have another sweet treat."
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ibrithir-was-here · 3 years
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How about 'Who felt romantic feelings first?' and 'What are their primary love languages?' for Mai squared?
Thank you for the asks! These are really good ones too!
I feel like Mairon definitly starts to fall first. Maedhros is far to focused on simply surviving when he's captured and taken to Angband. I think that at first Mairon's just impressed with his stamina whenever he looks into the interrogation/torture chambers. But as time goes by and Melkor continues to decay and withdraw into himself/the silmarils Mairon starts to seek out Maedhros' s company, since I can't imagine he gets much conversation that holds up to his standards amoung the orcs and thralls, or even the other maiar, since I think the more they allow Melkor to corrupt them the more they lose of their personalities until they're just basically one emotion (greed/anger/wrath, ect.)
The Mais have similar backgrounds interest wise, and I feel like Sauron would start pulling Maedhros out of solitary, under the guise of interrogating him personally just to have someone interesting to talk to, and that it would start building up from there with Sauron starting to get infatuated with this intelligent, competent elf Lord who's managed to hold onto his wit and wit, and Maedhros then falling later thru a mix of seeing and respecting the same traits in Mairon (and just also being super starved for soft/positive touch/interactions. Actually I think they probably both are at that point, I doubt Angband is the greatest working-living environment even if you're near the top of the petting order)
For love languages I feel like both Mairon and Maedhros fall under the Words of Affirmation for a primary, from how they would have been "raised" in similar environments where that would be an important thing for them (praise from Feanor/Aule)
With Mairon having Physical Touch as a secondary (he tries to hide it under a veneer of just being interested in corporal physical responses but in reality he's just a big cat. Like, I see him acting super poised and controlled out in public but then actually being pretty playful in private when more of his early Mairon-ness comes out)
Maehdros's secondary would be Quality Time, because that's a hard won commodity in a family of seven, especially when your the oldest and each kid means more and more responsibility gets placed on you
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tar-thelien · 3 years
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Did You Ever Meet Him? (Maedhros meets Melkor)
“Did you ever… you know… meet HIM!” Maglor asks anxiously (he knew it scared Maedhros to hear HIS name. Sauron had taken care of that).
“Yes…” Maedhros says quietly, “a few times.”
-o0o-
The orcs had been dragging him for minutes now, and he had done his best to resist them. Even in chains. He had even broke one of there arms and bited another one before they had forced a bad smelling rag between his teeth. After that he had kicked and hit them as he could not use his teeth any longer.
Suddenly they stopped before a set of giant black obsidian doors. He could feel the power behind the doors.
Where they taken him to Morgoth!
He suddenly felt so weak, like the power of Moringotto was pulling on his fëa. Harshly the rag was ripped of his face.
The door slowly opened, and he was being dragged again. This time he did not resisted. He was frozen in fear.
The hall was gigantic! There was pillars with torches on the side as longs as he looked.
They stopped before a big darkness where Nelyafinwe could see 5 lights. Three familiar lights. The Silmariollion. The stolen jewels. And two piercing cold icy blue almost white eyes with no pupils.
Nelyafinwe could feel the present of Morgoth by the power of the monster that seemed to pull him down.
“KNEEL BEFOR YOUR KING SCUM!” Hissed one of the orcs and pushed him down to kneel.
A huff came from the darkness and the lights shifted a little as if the monster was straightening himself op.
“so…” came a dark smooth husky voice not at all what he had expected, “YOU are the noldors king, huh?” The monster asked amused.
Nelyafinwe did not answer just looking down at the black stone.
“Answer your king!” said the orc again and slammed down his face to the ground. He looked quickly up while a spark of fire and anger shot up in him as he could feel the blood from his nose dripping down his face.
“YOU ARE NOT MY KING!” he hissed, “even if you were one you have no honor Morgoth!”
Out of his eyes he could see the orc grabbing for his sword but at the same moment the five lights turned to the side. In the blink of an eye a man was standing before him grabbing his hair and forcing his head up. The mans eyes burned. They were like fire with a slit pupil like a cat. He had a light rich creamy skin and unnatural red wavy hair. He was a picture of perfection however his eyes spoke of hate.
“How DARE you!” he hissed and reviling white sharp teeth, “you insolent little creature! HOW DARE YOU!”
“Breath my dear Mairon,” came Morgoths amused voice, “my lord.” Answered the maia polite and let go of Nelyafinwe surprisingly smooth. “Let the elf speak.”
“You claim to be king!!?” hissed Nelyafinwe in anger, “the only thing you are king of is shit and thralls Morgoth!” he spited the last word with disgust, “yo-“
“My Lord?” The maia interrupted not waiting for permeation to speak, “let me show him respect! Please.” The maia looked up at his master and Nelyafinwe shuddered in disgust at the sight.
“If that would make you happy, my little flame.”
-o0o-
“That was the first time.”
Maglor didn´t say anything thankfully.
A few years later.
Maedhros hadn’t come to dinner that night, so Maglor had come to him with dinner.
“Maedhros!” Maglor asked concerned and knocked on the door again, “Maedhros can I come in?” there was no answer from the other side of the room. “Maedhros? I´m coming in now!”
Maedhros sat curled up in his bed a rear sight of weakness from him. “Hey… I brought food with me,” Maglor said as he sad down on the bed, taking care to give Maedhros the place he needed.
After some time he sad the tray with food down beside him and Maedhros.
“He was so different!” He whiskered shaky. It sounded like he had been crying. Maglor didn’t say anything just listening.
-o0o-
He woke up slowly. He was in a bed! Would Sauron have him know!? Hadn’t he been good enough! He whimpered frightening, “do be quite!” a voice snarled angrily.
MORGOTH!
He froze completely.
Some time after he tried to turn as quietly as possible to se the room he was in. The collar was still on and a link of chain that was fastened to the wall behind the bed. Morgoth still hissed angrily as he whined when he rolled over on his arm that still hurt from a new burn.
The room was richly decorated in black and some blue colors too. He was in bedroom, in a king sized bed with a lots of soft pillows and a soft mattress. And some heavy blankets.
A fireplace right over from the bed and a small bedside table on both side of the bed. A lot of beautiful paintings of random things cowered the walls. A door stood ajar just the right place so he could look into a small corridor that had a door right in front of the one he looked through that also was open.
On the other side of the door were something that rather looked like a living room as he only could see a little bit of it. He could only see a couch in a blood red velvet were… a man was sitting?
It looked like he was writing and looking over some papers.
He had long messy curly black hair and a light almost grey skin color. A slim tall body even for an elf? Maybe he wasn’t that tall he was siting. Yet he looked like he was taller than Nelyafinwe. But he had never seen an elf in rich clothing and messy hair before. (Nelyafinwe own hair had been cut by the orcs after he had seen Morgoth the first and hopefully last time) Not even in this place did the maiar didn’t have messy hair either?
And what about Morgoth had he left?
Yet Nelyafinwe was enchanted be the mans beautiful futures and ey-
HIS EYES!?
This was Morgoth? Wont he suppose to be ugly yet… Nelyafinwe looked down on the hands… the burned hands…
How could this happened ? Why couldn’t he fell him like befor?
And- “I understand it like you are making trouble my dear Maitimo?” a small smirk creeped its way onto the Moringottes face.
Nelyafinwe had hear that Morgoth liked to be physically violent and was quick to anger where Sauron liked to be mentally violent and more relaxed. Like making happy visions and then making them to nightmare or taking the face of people he cared about. More then ones had he made it look like his brother or his beloved Finkano had saved him, and then-
He jerked back vilenty as Morgoths burnt hand toushed his hair. Oh Eru! Why would he do that!? Now he would suffer even more for it!
Yet… Morgoth gave him an amused smile?? Was that good or a sign of danger? He did not know, but he surly would soon!
“You don’t look like a king my little prince.” The evil Vala started - NO! he wasn’t a Vala. Not anymore! - the evil monster started, “all beaten up, and with short hair…” Morgoth took his head closer and breathed in through his nose, “you name fits you well even now my dear Maitimo.” The last was a purr.
What would he do!?
Would he rape him!?
Torment him and then rape him!? Orcs and balrogs did that!
-o0o-
They sat quietly in long time.
“Do you want me to stay?” Asked Maglor.
“Please?” Maedhros asked in a whisper, “I don’t want nightmare.”
Later on when Maglor almost had fallen afsleep Maedhros said, “he didn’t rape me, yet his presence hurt more then a thousand orcs come.”
Maglor did not answer again thankfully or asked qustien.
Only Fingon him and the monster knew what happened that day.
And it would stay that way!
Pls comment if you see a writing flaw - and tell me what you think♡
Take care♡♡♡
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slumbering-lore · 3 years
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Who do you ship with Mairon, and what color are your eyes?
Aah took me some time to answer, but here ya go-
The way I romanticize Mairon is kind of complicated. My biggest OTP of all time is Angbang, so I definitely ship him with Melkor. I also ship him with Tyelpe.
Now the problem arises because I ship Angbang either in this... abusive thing where Mairon wants to escape. In this scenario, his relationship with Melkor is mostly sexual and one-sided love. And during the Silvergifting scenario, he becomes more closer to Tyelpe and loves him romantically. Like he actually fell in love and regretted murdering him later on.
In the other case, I ship Angbang as a goofy couple where Melkor is a big scaredy cat and Mairon is amused by his antics. This allows me towards a qpr (since I hv Melky as Aro) and a healthier, softer relationship. This means that the Silvergifting one will be abusive. It's unrequited and angsty/ torturous. He doesn't fall in Love with Tyelpe but is just friends with benefits.
I can't decide between these two scenarios and it gets a little awkward sometimes.
.
And about my eye colour, it's really really dark brown. The outer rim of the iris is like raven black and nearer the pupil it's a little lighter brown but still very dark.
(be curious and send me anon asks)
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