[mmgwritings]

Hi, my name is Marina — cat mom by day, hopeless romantic for unhinged fictional characters by night. This account is dedicated to my fanfiction writings, and I adore every constructive comment and piece of feedback that helps me grow as a writer.

I don’t have a set posting schedule— I share my work when I'm feeling particularly inspired by a character. But feel free to send me prompts through asks or direct messages; I’ll do my best to weave a good story for you!

[wroniec]

Mairon

[wroniec]

Galadriel

[ekbelsher]

She was not a lynx or a spider or even the Wraith. She was Inej Ghafa, and her future was waiting above. Climb, Inej. (for the @litjoycrate Six of Crows box set)

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

Inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you struggle coming up with new designs for the Nine, and the Lord of Gifts helps you overcome your creative block

Warnings: smut (p in v, cockwarming, tease and denial, dom!Annatar vibes), reader hesitates at first because she’s surprised by Annatar’s advances but she’s on board with it, manipulation cause she doesn’t know Annatar is Sauron, small discrepancies with the canon timeline for the sake of the fic’s (very little) plot, unrealistic(?) method of solving artistic blocks (the irony is that I wrote this fic to get out of writer’s block with another one and it worked😆)

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

“How fares your progress?”

Lord Annatar’s voice nearly startles you when you see him approach. You thought you were alone in the forge room, with nothing but your thoughts and the unfinished Ring designs currently staring in defiance up at you from a piece of paper.

“Well enough,” you say, reflexively. Then sigh, letting your pencil fall on the table. “Well, in fact... it is slow,” you confess, glancing at Annatar as he walks towards you. You wince internally when he looks over your shoulder at your sketches. “My skills are no match for Lord Celebrimbor’s, and even he has had difficulty finding the right designs.”

“And yet he chose you alone to carry on with the efforts in his absence,” he argues, even when faced with what you deem to be your far-less-than-satisfactory attempts. Looking up, you find him offering you a sympathetic smile. “You sell yourself short, my friend. It is a real pity.”

You avert your gaze, attempting yet surely failing to conceal your fluster. His compliments, however small, always have a sincerity about them that touches you deeply.

Lord Celebrimbor had, quite literally, worked himself into oblivion after one too many failed attempts at crafting the Nine, and more hours without rest than even an Elf could endure. He had refused to retire to his chamber for some much needed sleep until he had fainted upon his own worktable, and even then, he had refused for anyone but you to even attempt to create new designs for future tries in his absence. He had been odd, of late, mistrusting and, dare you say, even irresponsible at times. But you were his oldest and most trusted apprentice, and that seemed to earn you some of the good will he still had left.

Not that you feel he has made you much of a favour, leaving you to labour alone on such an intricate task. You are not exactly freshly rested yourself, and you have seen so many Ring designs in the past few weeks, you seem to have been drained of the ability to come up with any fresh ones.

There was only one idea you had that might help you, and you had risen from your seat and sat back down two or three times already, changing your mind about whether you should seek out Lord Annatar or not. Whether it would be appropriate. Now that he has come to you, however...

“I was wondering...” Your eyes wonder about the room, hesitating to meet his. “If it isn’t too bold to ask...”

“Be at ease,” Annatar intercedes with that same gentle smile, and it isn’t so difficult to look at him anymore. “My very purpose here is to aid you in your endeavours. You need not hesitate to ask for my help.”

All of a sudden, you feel quite silly for ever doubting you could speak with him openly. He has been most willing to share his knowledge as he worked closely with you these past few weeks. It’s just that now, he has taken on Celebrimbor’s duties as Lord of Eregion as well, and you hate to feel as though you are keeping him from more important matters simply because you cannot seem to handle your own given task.

“It’s just that I feel so... utterly uninspired,” you confess, casting a dismayed look to the sketch-filled papers in front of you. “The proportions, the aesthetics... I cannot seem to get all the elements right at the same time and the more I try, the farther I stray from the desired result.” You raise your gaze to Annatar’s. “Might you spare a moment to assist me, if only with one design? I’m sure it’ll be inspiration enough for me to finish the others whilst you tend to the affairs of the city.”

“Of course,” he says, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. With the other, he picks up the piece of paper, and you are now grateful that his attention is solely on the drawings, for the sudden contact has made you rather flustered. “You see,” Annatar says, contemplating the sketches, “sometimes the artist’s mind, though creative as ever, tends to... restrict itself, in the most frustrating way. So great is the desire for perfection in the end result, that it stifles the natural flow of the precious ideas without which no result may be reached at all.”

You resonate with the wise words, but you are not sure you understand the advice they carry.

“Are you suggesting I... draw whatever design I like first and worry about the practical aspects of it later?”

“I am suggesting,” he says, putting the paper down, “that you do not worry at all.” You frown. With that, you do not resonate at all. But your main focus now is that Annatar steps behind you, this time placing his hands on both your shoulders. Your heartbeat quickens as he speaks, at leisure, “That you do not even... think about the task at hand—not entirely—and that you simply... give in to your most natural instincts.”

“I am... not sure I understand,” you say quietly.

After a moment’s silence, Annatar asks, “May I show you?”

You knit your brow, unsure. You had expected him to help you by simply completing one of the sketches, or even just discussing some new ideas. These cryptic words, along with the physical contact, is all quite peculiar.

But you do trust him. You more than trust him, if you’re being honest. That is why the sudden closeness feels rather nice, though you do not wish to make a fool of yourself by showing it.

In the end, you give a small nod.

“Very well,” he says, and you hear the pleased smile in his voice. “For that, you need only resume your work, and trust me.”

Failing at producing quality designs right before his eyes doesn’t sound exactly ideal, but you put your faith in his methods, whatever they are. You pick up the pencil once more, bring a fresh sheet of paper before you, and begin your fumbling attempts anew.

You note—how could you not?—that Annatar has yet to remove his hands from your shoulders. Because of that, you sit more upright than you usually do, but you doubt changing your posture is his sole purpose. Slowly, he begins to move, thumbs brushing your skin, then softly pressing down onto it in a languid rhythm.

You are grateful that he cannot see the wide-eyed surprise on your face as it dawns on you that the Lord of Gifts himself is giving you, a common Elf, a massage. His thumbs come to knead the flesh at the base of your neck on either side of your spine, and the slight pressure feels divine, especially when you have spent so many hours hunched over the table. You bite down an audible sigh, willing your hand not to waver while you work. You still do not feel particularly inspired, but if he meant to bring you relief from the constant stress of the past few weeks, his efforts are most certainly appreciated.

You mean to offer him a polite and rather bashful thank you, when one of his hands begins to stray. His fingers leave a tingling trail across your skin as he draws them up your neck, softly cupping your jaw from behind. You are quite stunned by the gesture, and find yourself retracing the same pencil line a few unnecessary times before you move on. His fingertips graze their slow way up your jaw, straying briefly through your hair before they reach your earlobe. It’s almost as though he is drawing his own intricate pattern along your skin, and your hand slows in its movements as your heart races in your chest.

Surely, he would not— oh, but if only he did—

And he does. His fingers take their sweet time tracing the shell of your ear, and finally, they reach the tip, where they catch the pointed bit of flesh between them, tugging ever so gently.

Your breath catches in your throat, shivers rain down your spine, and your hand freezes on the page. Because your kind do not touch one another’s ears in such a manner unless they are, or wish to be, courting. The simple reason is that, as you are now vividly reminded, those pointed tips are quite sensitive to touch, erogenous in nature for most Elves—including yourself.

You do not question Annatar’s wisdom or the grace with which he has assimilated into your ways of life, but perhaps he is somehow not aware of this particular intimacy-related aspect? Should you let him know, as courteously as possible? But then how would you explain that you had felt his intent, and despite having been given all the time in the world before his fingers had reached that most tender spot, you had done nothing at all to prevent such a caress?

Before you can decide, his hand returns to your shoulder, any movement halted.

“Is something the matter?” he questions, concerned.

You cannot tell him. You simply cannot. In truth, you miss the touch already.

“No—” you clear your throat, willing the waver out of your voice. “No, my lord.”

“Then, why have you stopped?”

He sounds genuinely curious, as though he could not fathom what had affected you so. You give no answer, other than to put pencil to paper once more. The moment you resume your work, his hands resume theirs—massaging, caressing. He does not touch your ears again, though his fingers do come dangerously close to doing so as he runs them through your hair, and you berate yourself for hoping each time that they would find those sensitive peaks again, catch them in their delicious hold.

So distracted you are by the prospect of it and the images you strive to continue creating, you do not even sense Annatar leaning down. Not until you catch a glimpse of long, blonde hair at the periphery of your vision, and then there is the soft graze of his lips over your neck. You draw in a sharp breath as your skin is set alight, and the pencil slips from your fingers.

“My lord!” you gasp, chest heaving as you whip around to fix him with a most alarmed look. There is no misinterpreting the intent behind that particular gesture, and he knows it very well.

But he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest as he stands to his full height, seeming to you more majestic in appearance than ever as you look up at him.

“Keep drawing,” he instructs calmly. “Unless you wish for me to stop.”

Your brow furrows even further, your confusion growing, and then—

It all clicks in your mind.

The rules he has demonstrated thus far are simple enough: you stop, he stops. It’s both a condition and a reassurance. You do not have to outright refuse him. You need only refuse to continue drawing, and he shall leave you be, and all will return to the way it was before. But if you do pick up the pencil, it would be tantamount to confessing to the desire you have held secret within your heart for weeks, and that would change everything. Not to mention it would be unprofessional. Most inappropriate.

Your skin still sings where he has touched it.

Be it courage or folly, you turn away from him, pick up the pencil, and draw.

You think you can feel a smile on his lips as they return to your neck. This time, you close your eyes, finally able to savour the sensation—only for a moment, though, for the blissful touch depends on your ability to keep forming shapes on the paper, so you open your eyes and do your best to conjure some semblance of a coherent design as Annatar peppers your skin with unrushed, tender kisses. His lips are even softer than you had imagined, and you tilt your head lightly to offer every inch of skin within his reach. Now that the door has been opened, there is no more use pretending like you do not crave his affections.

Before long, his fingers ghost along the neckline of your dress, then his hand ventures below, to the swell of your breast. You do not make the slightest move to stop him. In fact, you pray to the Valar for the ability to keep your hand drawing at least somewhat relevant lines on the page. For you keep reminding yourself that if you stopped, so would he, and you cannot fathom the loss of his delicate grasp of your soft flesh. He easily finds a stiff nipple, peaking through the fabric of your dress, and tugs it between his thumb and forefinger. You shudder, holding back a whimper—but to your embarrassment, the beginning of one does escape you when his hands and lips suddenly leave you.

“Do you need a respite?” he says with a tinge of admonishment. You’ve abandoned your efforts on the paper without even realizing. You shake your head, not trusting your voice, wishing for nothing more than to feel his touch again, and resume scribbling lines on paper.

“Very well,” he says, and his hands return to you.

It’s increasingly challenging to keep drawing through each graze of lips, each brush of your ears, each tease of your nipples through your dress. It’s already so much, so fast, and yet it only makes you long for so much more. You’ve given up biting back the soft moans in your throat, lacking the power of concentration to spare for that purpose as well. And you certainly cannot help how your thighs press together in a futile attempt to ease the ache growing between your legs.

The sketch of one Ring is already finished, but you don’t even stop to consider whether it’s satisfactory before you begin another. His method shall be most efficient in increasing the quantity of your work, if not the quality. Would he do this with any other smith, you wonder, simply as a means of encouragement? Is this what he has been doing to Lord Celebrimbor on the late nights when the other smiths have gone to sleep, and they alone remain to carry on working in the forge? The thought stings, but the only question on which you can truly focus at the moment is how much further will he go with you, right here and now? As if in answer, his hand begins a most tantalizing descent, over your stomach, down to your navel, and you desperately repeat to yourself to do not stop drawing, no matter what, as you part your legs to receive him without shame.

When he cups you intimately through the fabric of your dress, you truly do not know by what force you are able to keep the pencil on the page, let alone keep wielding it. But thanks to the muscle memory acquired over many years of training, you do, even as you whimper and rock your hips into Annatar’s hand, even as he massages the throbbing bud which had longed for his touch on the shamefully many nights you had stroked it yourself while thinking of him. You wonder if he can feel how wet you have grown for him even through the fabric of your dress, wantonly hope that he does—

He stops. Even though you haven’t—you are so sure of it, you’ve been so careful. You only cease drawing when he lifts himself from you and you turn to him with a questioning, pleading look.

“Stand,” he instructs simply.

You nearly protest. But you remember yourself, that you are meant to be putting your trust in him, and do as you are told. You are hyperaware of the wetness between your legs as you stand, leaning against the table for support. The haze of desire has left you pleasantly weak.

Annatar steps towards you, facing you fully for the first time since he has begun to touch you intimately, and it is both relieving and electrifying to see that desire darkens his gaze as well as he takes in your breathless state. Taking gentle hold of your chin, he lifts it so your eyes meet his, and not a moment later his lips are upon yours, soft and tender. It’s barely more than a short peck, just enough for you to melt into the kiss only for him to pull away before you can fully savour it. This teasing of his is so maddening, like a game to which the only rule you know is that you either submit to his rules, or forfeit altogether, and you can only hope he will not leave you wanting in the end.

Stepping back, be pushes his robes to the side, and proceeds to unfasten his trousers with relaxed, steady movements under your longing gaze.

He pauses whilst he is still decent, and patiently asks, “Will you welcome my flesh?”

Welcome it? You could think of little else for weeks.

“Yes, my lord,” you murmur.

Only then does he bear himself to your gaze. He is a masterpiece, hard and swollen and glistening at the tip. The state of his cock denotes much more impatience than he demonstrates as he gracefully seats himself in your chair. Your cunt clenches around a gnawing emptiness at the mere sight.

“Return to your seat, then,” he invites with a cheeky little smile.

You find it strange that he has not pulled the chair away from the table, sitting in it as though he means to work there himself, rather than receive you in his lap. But you obey either way, a daze of elation coming over you. It’s such a foreign, illicit feeling, pulling up the skirts of your dress with trembling fingers as you step between the chair and table to face Annatar, ready to straddle him.

Before you can lift one knee onto the chair, he stops it with a gentle but decisive hand.

“I do not believe you have finished the designs,” he says. “Have you?”

Frowning, you give a slow shake of your head. His tone nearly makes you feel like a chastised student. Disoriented, you are nothing but pliant as his hands guide you into turning around so that you are now facing the table. Surely, he cannot mean for you to keep drawing once he is inside you? You could barely manage to control your pencil strokes whilst you sat relatively unmoving with his hands upon you, you could not even manage to find the paper if you begin to ride him.

You are about to ride him. Lord Annatar. The thought banishes any such concerns from your mind, leaving nothing but blinding lust in its wake. He adjusts you so that your legs are bracketing his thighs, pulls your garments out of the way to expose your soaked folds, and guides you down so that the tip of his cock is only just breaching your entrance.

That initial stretch alone pulls a small whimper from you, and you plant your hands on the arms of the chair for support, trying not to make any rash downward movement that might hurt you both. But his hands are strong and so safe on your hips, and you surrender to their guidance as he eases your joining. He slowly teases the tip of his cock in and out of your cunt, each time reaching a little deeper than before, until you cannot take it any longer and and sink onto his length completely.

The stretch pulls a mewl from your throat as you finally settle in his lap. You strive to catch your breath, looking down as if to reassure yourself that this is, indeed, real. Your dress covers the place where he has disappeared inside you, but you are so heavenly filled by the length and girth of him, you fear the sight alone might cost you your sanity. You whine, your eyes falling shut as Annatar pulls you to his chest, one hand pressing down on your belly whilst the other gently wraps around your neck, and he whispers in your ear, “How does this feel?”

Your voice is no more than a trembling whisper, “Wonderful.”

You cannot bear to wait a moment more. You try to circle your hips in his lap, moaning as his cock begins to prod at all the most delightful spots within you—

He plants his hands on your hips, trapping them in a firm hold.

“Be still,” he demands. It’s no easy feat, but you settle down, awaiting his direction. “Good,” he purrs in your ear. “Good. Now...” he pauses, letting you quiver with anticipation, “you shall remain still until you have finished the designs.”

Your eyes shoot open, wide and confused as you twist your head to look at him. There is no trace of jest in his eyes. Even the pleasure he feels in the warm embrace of your cunt is a faint glimmer beneath the surface of his determination, subdued with utter discipline. You realize he truly means his words, and you despair.

“But...” You cannot even make a coherent plea. So dreadful is the thought of enduring the pleasure of having him inside you without pursuing it, you are reduced to little more than a pitiful whine, “My lord—”

“Shh,” he coos, tenderly kissing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, aiming to soothe you as if he is not the very source of your torment. “I know,” he murmurs. “I feel it too. This all-consuming ache to reach fulfillment, this longing for release... the wonders of your mind crave the very same. Open the door to set them free, as you have opened yourself to allow me in. You managed well enough before .”

“Yes, but you were not...” You grimace, clenching around him without meaning to in your anguish. “It’s so deep—”

“And you are so warm. So tight,” he breathes out, hoarse with want. “Yet I shall wait, patiently, for as long as I must. For your sake.”

His tone leaves no room for argument, which only worsens the ache between your legs. But you know by now—either play by his rules, or stop the game altogether.

You sigh, defeated, and nod. “All right.”

Annatar presses a light kiss to your temple, a gesture so sweet and chaste, it makes your head spin as much as his praise. “Good girl,” he rasps out. “Go on, then.”

He offers some support as you will your limbs into cooperating and begin to lean forward, towards the table. The movement jostles his cock within you ever so slightly, and you groan as you withhold from moving your hips in search of any further friction. The position is somewhat awkward, with you leaning over the page from a slightly too high angle, but you plant your elbows on the table and get on with it, determined to see this through.

If someone had told you this was how you would finish the designs—seated in Lord Annatar’s lap, his cock buried snugly inside you, so perfectly stretching you out that it drives you to the brink of insanity—you would have called them a most impolite adjective, and slapped them for good measure. But even less probable, even more scandalous, is that it’s almost easier this way. After a few moments of adjustment, you no longer scratch out attempts before they’ve even begun to take shape, or overthink each stroke of the pencil to the point where you forget what your overall intention had been in the first place. The wonderfully torturous stretch of Annatar’s cock within you takes over that part of your mind, and what is left of it is high on the thrill of it all, the anticipation, the graze of Annatar’s fingers as they trace the occasional languid line along your spine, so tender and encouraging.

The practical knowledge is there, deeply rooted in your mind from years of practice, and the creativity is a gift that’s never truly left you. But it is only now that you finally understand how to let them intertwine without trying to control it, to give in to the flow of inspiration the same way you are giving in to him.

And he keeps his word, sitting silently until the last stroke of your pencil, his hips never once giving the lightest stir. Only when you sit back to show him the finished sketches does he lean forward slightly, taking the paper from your hand as you take deep breaths to cope with the new stimulation.

You plant your hands on his knees for support, nerves filling you now that the creative haze is over. You are left only with great unfulfilled lust, and the creeping doubt that, perhaps, your work is no more adequate than it was before. You’d found a way to push through so far, but you are not sure you could manage such a feat a second time if he asked it of you.

But you would try. You would try anything, if it allowed only the sliver of hope that your Lord Annatar would finally take you, unrestrained and to sweet completion, at the end of it.

To your great relief, when you turn your head, you find him studying the paper with a most appreciative smile.

“See what you can accomplish when you give yourself permission to do so?” he says, caressing your thigh as if in reward. “These are splendid.”

“Thank you, my lord,” you murmur. Before, you would not have dreamed to ask for more than such words of praise. Now, you bite your lip and entreat, “May I... May I, please...?”

“Seek your pleasure?” His voice is knowing, teasing, as if he is not furiously hard within you this very moment. Even after all this, a bout of shyness makes you avert your gaze briefly as you nod. “No,” he says seriously, and your eyes snap to him in alarm. “Not in this manner,” he goes on. “I wish to look upon your face.”

You have no doubt he meant to have your heart lurch in your chest. There is a wicked side to this messenger of the Valar, a shadow hidden within the light with which he surrounds himself. It only arouses you further.

Annatar helps you stand, and the emptiness left behind as he slips from within you would render you an inconsolable mess, if it weren’t for the promise of soon-to-be-found relief. You can’t help but eye his cock, drenched in your arousal and bobbing enticingly as he rises to his feet as well. He sets the precious sketches on the table with care, then turns to you with, at last, unveiled hunger, and reaching to the back of your thighs, hoists you in his arms in one swift move.

You wrap your legs around his waist, cling to his shoulders, and gasp as he carries you to the nearest wall, pressing your back against it. He holds you up effortlessly, even as one hand slips between you to touch your clit directly for the first time. The bundle of nerves has been helplessly throbbing for so long, it only takes a few firm strokes of Annatar’s fingers to have you fall apart with a brisk whimper, burying your face in his neck.

“How sensitive,” he muses, quite content as you pant through the sudden burst of pleasure. “You have craved my touch for a long time, have you not? I admit it has been quite distracting.”

There is the slightest hint of accusation in his voice, and you know he doesn’t just mean since he first touched you today. You must have failed, in all those weeks you worked together, to withhold the lustful thoughts he invoked in your mind from showing in your eyes. And so you had distracted a messenger of the Valar from his work on the crucial task to save all of Middle-Earth.

“Forgive me, my lord,” you whisper into his hair.

“Whatever for?” he asks as though you’ve said the silliest thing. Cupping your face, he tilts your head up so your gaze meets his. “Have you forgotten my name?” he speaks softly. “I am here to give.”

And give, he does. He slides inside you to the hilt, gladly welcomed back by your still-aching cunt, and this time, finally, finally, he withdraws and sinks back in once, then again, thrust after thrust until he builds to a quick rhythm that has you drowning in the pleasure after which you had thirsted for so terribly long. A string of ‘pleases’ leaves your throat, unbidden, even though you can hardly ask for more than the stretch of him inside of you, the relentless press and drag against places so sweet and deep within, the ceiling is filled with all the stars in the night sky as you throw your head back against the wall with abandon. Annatar leans in to kiss your neck, his tongue setting your skin even more ablaze. Your sole remaining ability is to moan and cling to him, receiving the pleasure you are being given.

Sauron is deeply satisfied as he takes his own. He has been aching as well, though the Maia is far more skilled at mastering the urges of his flesh. You had been quick to obey, eager to follow his commands, even without his influence nudging at your mind to suit his purpose, which in itself was as pleasurable as having your tight cunt wrapped around him as you worked. And now you are so pliant in his embrace, moaning in sweet submission as you reap the reward he most graciously offers—the very picture of the peaceful surrender he seeks to accomplish through the Rings. If only every being in Middle-Earth would accept the blessing of his authority as easily as you have, they would spare themselves so much wasteful bloodshed.

Perhaps he will keep you safe from it. Perhaps he will keep you to himself.

But you don’t know what is to come, nor would you care as your pleasure crests towards its peak, and you cry out with the force of your release, clenching around Annatar’s cock.

“Thank you,” you mindlessly gasp in between whimpers as he generously fucks you through it, “thank you, thank you, thank you—”

With one last, brutal thrust that pins your hips to the wall, Annatar groans, long and deep as he throbs and spills inside of you. It occurs to you that he has barely made a sound besides his laboured breathing throughout your coupling. Before he even slips out of you, spent, you wonder if you might have the privilege of hearing more in the future.

He is gracious enough, as your high subsides and you catch your breath, to carry you back to your chair. You doubt your legs would support you this very moment. He sets you down, fixes his robes, then stands before you as poised as ever. If it weren’t for the spark of mischief in his eyes, one would think you had done nothing but discuss Ring designs over a cup of tea.

“Thank you, my dear,” he says, retrieving the sketches from the table, “for your most valuable work.” He admires them for a moment, then gives you a knowing smile. “Do not hesitate to ask for my aid, should you need it again.”

With a polite nod, he leaves you sitting in your chair by the table, much as you were when he had found you. Only, at that time, his spend had not been pooling between your legs, and it was hard to imagine it ever would be.

You smile to yourself. What an unconventional emissary, and how lucky you are that the Valar have sent him to guide you in your endeavours. For indeed, you are sure you shall require his assistance again quite soon.

[mmgwritings]

omg danielleeeeee!!! NO WORDS!!!

[galaxyspeaking]

Nenya wept 🍂

[boomdafunk]

- No not Dark , not with you at my side -

[miurgen]

I have many names 🥺👉👈

[galaxyspeaking]

And in the darkness, bind them.

[tindu]

Blood Oath

[sansaorgana]

— KINGDOM OF DISTURB

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Despite being locked inside his fortress, you cannot complain about being Sauron's Queen. You are surrounded by luxury and your every wish is fulfilled. After long centuries of such life, however, you grow a little bored. Mentioning it to your husband has terrible consequences.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — The title is from the song that inspired me (Kingdom of Disturb by Nostalghia) and of course you don't have to know the song to read the fic but I strongly recommend it because it fits so well with the whole theme – In fever dreams he holds me // Fever dreams destroy me // Inside his kingdom of disturb // I am the queen of his design 😌 Basically, in this fic, you are kind of living like Celebrimbor and it gets dark as well – although not that dark lmao I imagine Sauron as Annatar here but you can imagine him as whatever to be honest and the Reader had to be an Elf so she could live for a very long time, but other than that she is not described in any way!

WARNINGS — mentions of sexual activities (no actual smut), mentions of Reader wanting to have a child (spoiler alert: Sauron does not), toxic & abusive relationship with some physical violence (he pulls and drags her by her hair), manipulation, gaslighting, victim blaming

WORD COUNT — 3,450

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

KINGDOM OF DISTURB

When Sauron married you and made you his Queen, he took you to a huge and beautiful fortress in the Southlands. You had imagined being his spouse a little differently – more… actively. You had been imagining yourself healing Middle-earth alongside your husband but he kept you hidden inside your chambers instead.

He was assuring you the reason was your safety since his task was not yet done. And you believed him because you wanted to. Even the fact that the heavy doors of your chambers remained locked all the time was something done out of his love and his protectiveness. You understood. In fact, it felt good to be protected by him. To be taken care of. To be aware of the depths of his devotion to you.

And most of the days, you spent alone; awaiting his return from his journeys and battles. However, he made sure that you were never bored.

Your chambers were enormous and the most beautifully decorated in all sorts of silver, gold, gemstones and ornaments. Velvet, silk and cotton surrounded you and everything smelled of fresh flowers that were being changed everyday by your servants.

You had every book you wanted there and your ladies-in-waiting, as you liked to call them, were skilled in nearly every craft, so they could entertain you with their musical skills, new dresses made for you, drama plays performed for you to watch and clap your hands at… Anything you asked for was there – within the reach of your little finger.

And when you wanted to spend the time outside, perhaps you could not do that fully but you had a huge balcony all for you from where you could watch the vast and green land of the Southlands. The sunrays were keeping you warm and the blue skies were calming your senses as the sounds of birds, wind and playing children from afar were reaching your ears.

It was a paradise where you lived and you did not mind being trapped. Sauron was making sure of that. Your every whim was being fulfilled and whenever he was back to spend some time with you, he was the most skilled and attentive lover. After a few days or weeks spent in his embrace, you were too hazy to complain or to think of anything else except for the amount of your love towards him.

You were not sure for how many years you had been there – centuries, perhaps. Time was a blurry concept for you these days. And the most uncertain. However, throughout all those years, you had been very satisfied and content with your life as Sauron’s Queen. You had been waiting very patiently for him to finally heal Middle-earth and to prepare his realm for you to join his side fully.

Only recently, something had changed. And when Sauron had come back to you after being separated for a bit longer than usual, at first he hadn’t noticed any of that.

You had spent a whole night in each other’s embrace, your bodies tangled together as they reached a peak after peak between the gasps, moans, arched backs, curled toes and fingernails being dug into flesh. He was a Maia and he could go on for days without a break but you were not graced with such powers, therefore you required a rest. So, he granted it to you in the early morning as you both laid underneath the silky sheets.

After taking a short and regenerating nap, you yawned softly and giggled when Sauron’s hands caressed your sides. You looked deep into his eyes and placed a kiss upon his lips, caressing his cheeks. But when you opened your mouth to start the conversation you had been dying to have for a long while now, you were interrupted by one of his servants with a knock upon your doors.

“What is it?” Your husband asked, irritated, as he rolled his eyes at you playfully.

“My Lord Sauron, there is an important matter to discuss,” the raspy voice of his servant reached your ears.

You had never seen any of his servants but you could imagine they looked quite different from your gentle and beautiful ladies-in-waiting. You were not sure of their race since they had been the same since the beginning but you did not ask any questions about it since you were pleased with them either way.

“I shall return to you soon, my love,” Sauron kissed your forehead and left your bed.

He got dressed up quickly and turned around to smile at you adoringly before walking out of your chambers. A short while later, you could hear the doors being locked.

You stretched your sore limbs and stood up to dress up yourself, too. Sometimes, you liked to do it yourself instead of asking for your ladies-in-waiting. As much as you adored them, you had also quite grown used to solitude. And sometimes you preferred it this way.

After putting on a gown, you stood in front of the large mirror and caressed your curves underneath the fabric. You wondered how your body would look if it were changed by pregnancy. And when you turned to your side to put your hand on your abdomen, pretending to be carrying your husband’s child already, he walked inside this very moment, startling you.

You quickly moved your hand away but you were sure he had spotted what you were doing as he tilted his head and approached you slowly. Without a word, he stood behind you and wrapped his arms around you – the red colour of his robes looked so regal contrasting with the golden colour of yours.

“What are you doing, my love?” He whispered into your neck, placing a gentle kiss there and making you shiver.

You looked down at first and wanted to tell him that nothing, you were doing nothing. On the other hand, that was the conversation you had wanted to have with him for a long time now but each time you either were running out of courage or you were being interrupted.

So, you looked up to meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror and you took a deep breath in.

“What if we had a child together, my love?” You asked and watched how Sauron’s facial expression changed from playful to serious… Angry, even. His jaw clenched and his eyes – usually so kind and loving towards you – filled with rage that he was trying to keep at bay but you knew him too well not to notice. “What is it?” You turned around in his arms uncomfortably as you met his gaze in reality now and not only in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are you not happy with me?” Sauron asked with all seriousness and concern.

“I am very happy, my love. That is why I want to–” you started, a little surprised by his tone.

“Why do you want to ruin what we share then?” He interrupted you, harshly and it made you shut your mouth immediately.

“I had no idea that you perceived the possibility of fatherhood this way,” you finally said in a weak whisper.

“There is no such possibility,” your husband took a step back as if he was disgusted with you at that moment and it hurt you deeply.

“Physically, it is. There have been cases of Maia and Elves having offspring together. Rare, but still…” You swallowed thickly as Sauron’s eyes filled with even more anger and the corners of his lips twitched.

“You… You have been researching that?” He asked with contempt.

“My love, I do not want to push you into anything or force anything upon you!” You quickly reached out to grab his wrists to calm him down. He allowed you to touch him but he did not touch you back in any way and his eyes did not turn softer at all. “If a child – an heir – is not what you wish, let it be then. I only want to know the reason why not,” you explained, looking for compassion. “If it is jealousy… For I am aware of the amount of your devotion towards me… Well, I can assure you that my love can be shared and perhaps I would love you even more if–”

“I am not jealous,” Sauron snorted at that and you closed your mouth, blinking your fresh tears away. “Do you have any idea how powerful I am?”

“Of course, my love,” you nodded, surprised at the question.

“And do you think I wish to share this power? This greatness?” He freed his wrists from your grasp and walked away to pace around with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Do you not wish to share it with me one day? Once Middle-earth is healed?” You asked, confused.

“It is different. Our child could be even more powerful than I am. I do not wish for heirs,” he explained, nervously, “for they could be a threat.”

“A threat?” You asked, taken aback by his words. “Your own children? A threat for you?”

“You are not happy… You are not happy here,” he kept repeating as if he was angry and worried at the same time, ignoring your questions and walking in circles like some sort of a maniac.

“My love…” You tried to catch his attention again, staring at him with your eyebrows furrowed. You had never seen him so upset and you felt guilty for causing this. He had enough worries outside this fortress and when he was with you, you wanted him to feel calm and relaxed.

“You are not happy… You are not…” He was no longer paying attention to his surroundings, spiralling down as if his world had just crumbled down.

“My love…?” You tried once again.

“Not happy, not happy, not happy, not–”

“Sauron!” You addressed him and this time your voice grew harsher out of impatience. He froze and turned around to face you, with his hands still clasped behind his back. He was visibly taken aback by the tone of your voice but you were frustrated now by the way he behaved.

And, perhaps, he should have finally heard some truths.

“I am not unhappy, my love,” your voice grew softer but it was still quite distant. “The life I have here is the most luxurious and I am being spoiled by you every day, even when you are away. I am the most grateful,” you assured him and he sighed with relief. “However,” you added and he furrowed his brows again, “I grow tired of being locked away. I wish to walk outside, I wish to meet more people than my ladies-in-waiting. I know you are not yet done healing Middle-earth but I know you do have whole realms under your rule already. Are your subjects not curious about their Queen? I would love to go outside and meet them. Even though I have here everything I could ask for, I still grow bored sometimes as I seek for some purpose or adventure. Perhaps a child is something I started to crave because of boredom,” you finished and took a deep breath in, feeling the burden you had been carrying for so long within your soul being released.

Sauron’s face was unreadable at that moment but he remained still like a statue as he kept staring at you coldly, without even blinking. You swallowed thickly and after a moment, you simply had to look down, too intimidated by his stare.

“You are… bored?” He laughed contemptuously, breaking the silence. “I have to spend long weeks away from you to heal this realm and prepare it for you, so you can rule it alongside me when everything is all ready for you and handed out to you on a silver plate – like everything else – and you complain about… boredom? I fight battles and risk my life, while remembering to spoil you every day no matter what, only for you to show such brattiness?” His voice was filled with so much disappointment that you wished to die at this very moment.

Perhaps he was right. Perhaps you were being ungrateful.

“F-forgive me,” you whimpered, still not brave enough to look up.

“Oh, it is too late, my love,” he emphasised the last two words with anger as he approached you and grabbed you by the roots of your hair, making you yelp. He had never done anything of this sort to you before and you had never expected him to. He had to be even more angered than he showed. “Do you wish to know the truth?” He whispered into your ear venomously. “You have no idea how much power and focus I have to sacrifice for you to live a life so beautiful and yet you dare to complain?” He asked and you could not understand the meaning of his words. You only kept sobbing and not even because of the physical pain he was causing you at the moment but mostly because of the way he was behaving towards you. “True, your naiveness and foolishness makes it a little easier. You do not notice my little slip-ups and oversights… But still… I’d be much more powerful if I did not have to sacrifice so much of my abilities on creating this illusion for you,” he drawled out.

“What illusion?” You asked through the tears and Sauron looked deep into your eyes, pulling your hair even harder as you whimpered. He kept staring at your face with anger and contempt, visibly overthinking something.

“Let me show you the truth, my little brat,” he smirked and the corners of his eyes twitched nervously. In that moment, you suddenly realised that the light coming through the curtains from the outside was gone.

The chambers still looked the same – full of luxurious goods and items – but they were all so… dark. And somehow dusty as if there was ash covering some of the furniture. You squinted your eyes at that, not fully understanding the meaning of any of it.

“Here,” Sauron dragged you by your hair towards the balcony doors. And when he opened them and forced you to look ahead, you gasped in terror.

The Southlands were no more. The green land full of the bird songs, blue skies and the children’s laughter was nothing but a dark land of gloom and ashes with the huge volcano breathing out smoke in the distance. The skies were orange from the clouds and fire and there were ashes dancing in the air. It was hell and you realised that this was the reality – not the beautiful and gentle things you had been seeing for the past centuries whenever you had walked out to breathe in fresh air and feel the sunshine on your skin.

“You are not healing Middle-earth,” you whispered, nearly inaudibly, feeling defeated. “You are annihilating it.”

Sauron let go of your hair finally and pushed you away while doing so.

“I am healing it. Middle-earth is too spoiled and rotten for the process to go smooth and easy. I must purge it and rebuild it and then, only then, we shall rule it together,” his voice went softer again but it was still filled with a scary hint of darkness.

When you looked up at him, he was smiling at you lovingly again as if he hadn’t just caused you any pain. And you realised that from now on, you would always hear that scary hint of darkness in his voice no matter what. Because it had most likely always been there.

You remained speechless, staring at him with your wet eyes and silent tears streaming down your cheeks. He reached his fingers out to wipe them out of your face.

“Now you see it… I was trying to protect you from the whole process… From the truth of it… For I knew you would not understand my vision. And you shall stay here until my task is complete, my Queen,” he assured you sweetly.

“I do not want to…” You confessed.

For the first time in your life, you truly did not. Even though it was impossible to stop loving someone in a brief moment – no matter how much pain they had caused you and how evil they had turned out to be. You had been loving him for too many centuries to stop now. But it did not change the fact you simply did not want to be by his side anymore. 

You expected Sauron to get angry again but he did not. He cupped both of your cheeks now and leaned in as he kept staring at you with a mix of affection and pity. He knew very well that what you wanted mattered no more.

“But you must, my love, for I shall never let you go,” he whispered, pecking your lips delicately and tasting your salty tears. “However, now that you know the truth, I do not see the point of my further illusions. Your curiosity and brattiness have robbed you of this privilege,” he pointed out and caressed your hair. “Come back inside, my darling,” he dropped his hands to your arms and led you back into your chambers.

He let go of you to close the balcony doors behind you two and you froze at the sight of a few shadow-like creatures floating above the dusty floor of your bedroom. Their shapes were humanoid enough to be unsettling but there was nothing pure about them and their eyes were red as they burned with fire.

“Wh-what are those?” You asked.

“Those are your ladies-in-waiting,” Sauron answered, trying to make his voice sound sweet although you were aware that calling them by the name you had given them was nothing but mockery.

“I do not think I want their service anymore,” you swallowed thickly. If his illusions were to be truly gone, you would rather live alone there instead of having such creatures following you around.

Even though they had already been doing that for centuries now…

Sauron chuckled to himself and nodded at the shadows. They disappeared immediately after and you sighed with relief.

“Do you still wish for a child, my love?” Sauron asked you and put his arm around you before leaning in to kiss your temple. “Because I think that, after all, I could give you one to make you less lonely,” he teased, cruelly.

“I would never curse my child to share their eternity with me in this prison,” you looked up as you answered, feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat.

“Whatever you wish, my Queen,” Sauron smirked and gently pressed your face to his chest as he caressed the back of your head. “I am sorry for causing you pain. I truly am,” his voice broke a little and you wanted to believe him because what else could you do?

Believing him would make this whole thing a little bit easier.

“I know,” you whispered, feeling utterly defeated.

“Do not anger me like this again,” he whispered and even though his voice was full of guilt, there was a threat in it, too. “I do not want to cause you pain. You mean the world to me,” he explained and you realised that perhaps he was believing his own self while saying these things, too.

After a while like this; being forced to hug him but with your eyes kept open, he took a step back from you and lifted your chin up gently.

“I must leave now again, forgive me. I have received worrying news this morning from my servant,” he explained. “I shall be back soon. Keep your bed ready for me, my Queen,” he teased playfully as he usually would but this time it did nothing to you except for making your stomach twist.

He leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead and turned around to leave. You watched him walk away and heard the lock turn. You were left alone in the darkness of this room, which was covered in the ashes getting inside through the windows. You were lonely and broken – with the sound of the volcano and burning fire accompanying you from afar.

You sat down on the floor and brought your knees all the way up to rest your chin upon them as you wrapped your arms around your legs. Curled up this way, you began rocking yourself slowly to calm down and to seek for comfort in your own embrace.

This was how your life would look like from now on. But it was better than living inside a lie.

Was it?

MASTERLIST

[mmgwritings]

HOW TF DID SHE END UP IN THIS SITUATION?

Absolutely in love with @sansaorgana writing 🙂‍↕️✨️🤍

[obscenetoyoubutisimplyam]

Freddy Carter at the Tod’s Old Bond Street to celebrate the Rahul Mishra x Tod’s collaboration.

[mmgwritings]

GOLD RUSH

Characters: Kaz Brekker / Reader

Prompts: What happens when two people are destined to be apart? Inspired by Phoebe Bridgers' song "Motion Sickness".

Warnings: Angst; The other woman.

I am doomed to failure, I thought, my hands shaking as I held a glass, trying to control my expression into one of contentment, even as my throat felt a lump forming.

Everyone around me was smiling, too happy to notice the one person who hadn't moved to congratulate the couple — the only one whose eyes felt heavy at the sight of their clasped hands.

It was too much. I took another deep breath, forcing a smile back onto my face. I just had to hold on for a few more minutes, and then I would have a great excuse to leave the room. But for now, Kaz's hands still rested on Inej's, his fingers caressing the back of her hand as if they had known each other for a long time — like that was common.

“Well, Jesper, you owe me seven kruges,” Wylan said, nudging Jesper beside him. “I always knew they would be together, and I told you they would marry someday.”

“Here! Can we at least spend this somewhere better? It’s on me!” Jesper announced, pushing Kaz, Inej, and Wylan toward the Slat's door, probably leading them to a tavern.

I took the opportunity to move back a little. If I walked slowly, no one would notice me wiping away the insistent tears gathering in my eyes. It was a good plan; it seemed efficient — at least until Nina turned to look at me, a crease appearing on her face.

I turned away quickly, pretending to be engrossed in the laughter and chatter of the people around me, but my heart raced as I felt Nina’s gaze pierce through me. She always had a way of seeing right into my soul, as if she could read the unspoken words that hung heavy in the air just by the beating of the heart. I didn’t want to explain. I didn’t want anyone to know just how much this hurt. I was ashamed of feeling this way.

“Hey,” she called, her voice soft but insistent, cutting through the noise like a knife. “Are you alright?”

I forced a smile, the corners of my mouth trembling slightly. “Of course! Just a little… tired from all the excitement.” I could hear the strain in my own voice, the way it wavered like a fragile string about to snap. I didn’t want to burden her with my sadness, not when everyone else seemed so blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside me.

Nina studied me for a moment, concern in her features. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me.”

But how could I explain? How could I put into words the weight of watching Kaz so effortlessly intertwining himself with Inej? The way his fingers glided over her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world? It felt like a betrayal, a sharp knife twisting deeper into my chest with every shared laugh and glance between them.

But then, it wasn't really any betrayal. He was never mine in the first place; I just let myself be carried away by the feelings that I, alone, cultivated. If there was any pain, it was caused by my own blade.

“I just…” I hesitated, glancing back at the couple, my heart sinking further. Kaz looked radiant, a genuine smile lighting up his face, while Inej’s laughter rang out like music. They belonged together in a way I could never compete with.

The lump in my throat grew heavier, and I could feel the tears threatening to spill over. I focused on my glass instead, swirling the contents as if it could distract me from the ache inside. “I think I need some air,” I finally managed, voice barely above a whisper.

I looked around; we were still near the docks.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nina asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

“No, really, I’ll be fine,” I insisted, hoping she wouldn’t press further. “Just a moment to breathe.”

With that, I slipped away, my heart pounding as I made my way toward an alcove. I needed to escape this suffocating atmosphere, the laughter that felt like a cruel taunt, reminding me of everything I would never have.

Once alone, the cool night air hit my face, refreshing yet stinging. I leaned against the wall, staring out into the darkness, the harbor lights twinkling like stars scattered across the horizon. I drew in a shaky breath, letting the chill wash over me, hoping it would quell this horrible feeling.

But even here, the ache wouldn’t fade. I couldn’t shake the image of Kaz and Inej, the way they fit together seamlessly, like pieces of a puzzle I would never belong to. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the tears to stay away, but it was a losing battle.

Just then, I heard Nina’s voice calling out as she followed me into the alcove. “Hey, wait!”

I turned to face her, the warmth of her concern washing over me, though I felt the heaviness still lodged in my chest.

“What’s going on?” she asked, stepping closer. “You don’t seem fine at all.”

“I just…” My voice faltered as I searched for words, but nothing felt adequate enough to express the turmoil inside me. “It’s hard to watch them together.”

Nina nodded, understanding flickering in her eyes. “I can see that. It’s okay to feel that way, you know. You’re human.”

“It’s just… they’re so happy,” I whispered, the weight of my emotions threatening to spill over. “I thought maybe I could be happy for him, too, but…”

“But it’s hard when you care about someone who seems so out of reach,” she finished gently, her empathy a balm against my pain.

I met her gaze, feeling the walls I had built around my heart start to crack. “Yeah. I didn’t expect to feel this way. I thought I was stronger than this.”

Nina stepped closer, a comforting presence. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to feel sad or hurt. Let it out.”

“I don’t want to burden you,” I said, tears stinging my eyes.

“You’re not a burden,” she insisted, her voice steady. “You’re my friend, and I care about you. Please, don’t shut me out.”

I took a deep breath, the weight of her words settling over me.

“Okay,” I said softly, my resolve beginning to waver. “I just feel… lost. Watching Kaz with Inej feels like a reminder of everything I wanted but can’t have.”

Nina wrapped her arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer. “I know it hurts, but it doesn’t take away from your worth. You deserve happiness too, in whatever form it takes.”

As I leaned into her embrace, the tears I had fought so hard to hold back finally spilled over, but instead of feeling shame, I felt relief.

But it still hurt, thinking about what could have been if I had ever told Kaz how I felt about him. The possibility hung heavy. I replayed countless moments in my mind — each memory felt like a knife, sharp and painful, cutting deeper into my heart, because they were all just my perspective, they were just me falling in love with him, it was never mutual.

What if I had mustered the courage to confess? Would he have felt the same way? Or would he have looked at me with pity, gently telling me he didn’t feel that way, shattering my heart? The thought of losing him was unbearable, and so I had stayed silent, choosing to bury my feelings deep where no one could see them.

As I leaned against the wall, Nina’s comforting presence beside me, I couldn’t help but think about the cost of my fear. It would have been so easy to share my heart with him, to let him know he meant more to me than just a friend. But the fear of ruining what we had kept my lips sealed. I had always valued our friendship more than the uncertainty of what could lie beyond it.

“Do you ever wonder what might have happened if you had told him?” Nina asked softly, breaking the silence that had settled between us.

I nodded, biting my lip to suppress the tears that threatened to spill again. “All the time. It’s like a constant ache in my chest. I think about it and wonder… if I could have been the one for him.”

Nina squeezed my shoulder gently, her gaze understanding. “It’s natural to wonder. But it’s also important to remember that our feelings don’t always dictate someone else’s. Kaz might have been surprised, but he could have reacted differently than you think.”

“Maybe,” I murmured, the thought lingering in my mind like a distant hope. “But I just… I couldn’t risk losing him. I couldn’t handle that kind of heartbreak.”

“I get that,” Nina replied. “But keeping it all inside can be just as painful."

I took a deep breath, considering her words. It was true; I had built a fortress around my heart, thinking it would protect me from pain. But in doing so, I had also kept out the possibility of something beautiful.

“Maybe I should have said something,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Tears streaming down my face. “Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so lost.”

Nina smiled softly, her eyes shining with warmth and pity.

I glanced back toward the street, where Kaz and Inej were still laughing, lost in their own world. A pang of longing coursed through me, I would have to live with my choices.

“Thank you, Nina,” I said, my voice steadier now.

As I looked at them, memories washed over me like a warm wave, pulling me back to a night not too long ago.

It had been raining then, a heavy downpour that turned the streets of Ketterdam into glistening rivers. I had been sitting alone at a small table in a dimly lit tavern, nursing a drink and watching the rain dance against the window. I had felt so utterly lost, new in a different city, far from my family.

That was when Kaz had entered, soaked to the bone, shaking droplets off his coat like a stray dog. He had caught my eye immediately, and instead of joining the others, he had made his way over to me.

It was his way of hiring someone's services. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with him.

And now I had to live with it.

[nondelphic]

i’m a writer, which means i spend 90% of my time avoiding writing and 10% of my time panicking about avoiding writing

[mmgwritings]

so, what did you guys think of my first annatar x reader? I confess that I was a little nervous about writing for a new character, but annatar/halbrand/sauron had been on my mind for months... I NEEDED to write something with him. + don't be mad, I'll keep writing kaz brekker too.

[mmgwritings]

BEST REGARDS

Characters: Annatar / Númenor!Ambassador

Prompts: With Middle-Earth at war and the potential repercussions for Númenor, Ar-Pharazôn sends one of his best advisors to negotiate with the Lord of Eregion.

Warnings: NSFW; Smut; Canon Divergence; My poorly writing.

We weren't even welcomed, and that should have been my first sign that the initiative was doomed to fail.

When the Númenórean delegation arrived in Eregion, all that awaited us in the courtyard of Celebrimbor's fortress was a group of minor advisors, mere overseers of the lord's household workers.

They did their best; being elves, it was in their nature to be accommodating, polite, always eager to please. But as the days went by, with the dinners they hosted and the tours of the city, their once affable smiles now seemed like mockery to me.

Now, not even those low-ranking advisors would communicate with us. My delegation was relegated to one of the most isolated wings of the fortress, and every day a poor messenger was sent with a missive.

"What do you mean we can't speak with him? All I’ve asked for since I arrived is an audience with Lord Celebrimbor, and now even that is being denied?"

The messenger, visibly uncomfortable, hesitated before responding, "I'm afraid the lord is preoccupied with matters of great importance. He regrets that he cannot meet with you at this time."

I clenched my fists, struggling to maintain my composure, but the frustration bubbled up. "Preoccupied with what exactly? What could be more important than ensuring the stability of these lands?"

The messenger flinched at my sharp tone but remained composed, his elven grace unshaken. "I am not privy to the lord’s affairs," he said softly, "but rest assured, all is being done to safeguard Eregion. Your patience is appreciated."

Patience. I had been patient for days, and it had gotten me nowhere. Each passing hour felt like a calculated delay, as if they were stalling us for reasons I couldn’t yet comprehend. "Tell him," I said, voice steady but cold, "that my patience has its limits."

The messenger bowed slightly, acknowledging my words without a hint of defiance, and quickly exited the room. I watched him leave, my thoughts racing. What were they hiding? From the moment we arrived, it felt like a well-rehearsed charade — cordial smiles, empty gestures, and evasions at every turn.

I paced the room, the echo of my boots filling the silence. Something was wrong. Celebrimbor was too strategic to ignore a delegation from Númenor. Was he deliberately avoiding us? And if so, why?

Determined not to waste any more time, I stormed out of my chambers and headed toward Celebrimbor’s private quarters. If the lord would not grant me an audience, I would demand one. The halls were quiet, the only sound being the swift rhythm of my footsteps echoing against the stone walls.

But as I approached the entrance to Celebrimbor’s wing, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking my path. His presence was unmistakable, a mix of elegance and something darker that I couldn’t quite place. It was Lord Annatar. He is not a true lord, just a mere counselor to Celebrimbor

"Going somewhere, ambassador?" he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement. His hazel eyes gleamed, and though his expression was polite, I felt an undeniable tension in the air.

I froze. I had only seen Lord Annatar once before, just a fleeting glimpse of him giving orders to the guards. Yet here he stood, as if he had been waiting for me. His aura was unmistakable, commanding yet unsettling in a way I couldn’t quite define.

"Lord Annatar," I said, forcing a calmness into my voice that I didn’t feel. "I need to speak with Lord Celebrimbor. It’s urgent."

His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m afraid the Lord of Eregion is... unavailable at the moment," he replied smoothly. "But perhaps I can be of assistance. After all, we wouldn’t want you wandering these halls alone, would we?"

I couldn’t shake the feeling that Lord Annatar was different from the other elves I had encountered — there was something otherworldly about him. His beauty was striking, almost mesmerizing, with an elegance that made my heart quicken against my will. I was a human, and while I was well aware of the allure of elven grace, Annatar possessed a depth that both fascinated and unnerved me.

Yet, I pushed my feelings aside, reminding myself of the urgency of my mission. "I must insist," I said, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. "This is a matter of great importance for Númenor and Eregion alike. I cannot be delayed any longer."

He stepped closer, and the air between us shifted, thickening. "Your determination is admirable," he said, his tone both soothing and compelling. "But sometimes, the best course of action is to wait for the right moment. Patience can be a virtue, after all."

“Patience? All I have been is patient,” I snapped, frustration spilling over. “Every moment I wait only serves to deepen my concern. I need to speak with Celebrimbor now, not later.”

Annatar's expression remained calm, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes —perhaps amusement or interest. “And yet, patience has its rewards, does it not? Consider what you might learn in the meantime.”

I clenched my fists, hating being treated like a bratty little child. “I am not here to learn or be entertained. I am here to ensure the safety of my people. The longer I am kept in the dark, the more perilous our situation becomes.”

He studied me for a moment, and I could feel the weight of his gaze as if he were unraveling my thoughts. “You have a fire within you, a passion that is admirable,” he said finally. “But perhaps the flames of impatience will only burn you in the end.”

“Lorde Annatar, what exactly do you mean?” I asked, my voice steady despite the unease swirling in my gut. I wasn’t sure if he was offering insight or simply playing with my frustration.

He took a step closer, the warmth of his presence almost intoxicating. “You are caught in a web of politics, my dear ambassador. Your eagerness to confront Celebrimbor may lead you into a trap. There are forces at play that you may not yet understand.”

I narrowed my eyes, searching for sincerity in his tone. “And you think I should simply wait and let those forces dictate my fate? I refuse to be a pawn in someone else’s game.”

His smile widened, a blend of admiration and something darker that sent a shiver down my spine. “Ah, but you are no pawn, my dear. You have the potential to be so much more. The key is to choose your battles wisely.”

My heart began to beat faster as I considered his words. Did he know about my plans? Did he have any inkling of my idea to take Ar-Pharazôn from the throne and restore the alliance with the elves?

“Are you saying you have insight into my intentions, Lord Annatar?” I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady. “Because I assure you, my goals are not so easily discerned.”

He regarded me with a penetrating gaze, as if he were peering into the very depths of my soul. “Your aspirations are noble, but not without peril. The political landscape of Númenor is fraught with danger, and those who seek change often find themselves in the crosshairs of power.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with implication. I fought the urge to reveal more, to gauge his true motives. “You speak as if you understand my plight, yet you remain cryptic. If you truly wish to assist, then tell me: how can I achieve my aims without falling victim to those very dangers you warn me about?”

Annatar leaned closer, a playful smile dancing on his lips. “Ah, but where would be the fun in giving you all the answers?” His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief, as if he enjoyed the tension between us. “After all, a little intrigue keeps life interesting, does it not?”

I felt a rush of irritation mixed with an undeniable pull toward him. “I’m not looking for games, Lord Annatar. I need guidance, not riddles.”

He chuckled softly, the sound smooth as silk. “And yet, it is the very game of politics that you must master to achieve your noble goals. Perhaps I could help you navigate these treacherous waters, but you must be willing to embrace the art of subtlety.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked, my curiosity piqued despite my better judgment.

“First, let us not be adversaries,” he said, his tone turning serious, yet still laced with flirtation. “You may find that your greatest ally lies in understanding your enemies. After all, the more you know, the more power you wield. And I daresay, you are far more capable than you realize.”

His words wrapped around me like a warm cloak, and I hesitated, torn between my instinct to distrust him and the allure of his charm. “And what do you gain from this?” I pressed. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Perhaps I simply enjoy the company of a determined woman,” he replied, his gaze unwavering. “Or perhaps I see potential in you that is worth cultivating. The future is uncertain, and alliances can be the key to shaping it.”

“Why should I trust you in anything?” I challenged, crossing my arms defensively. “You don’t have more power than I do, mere counselor.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “Ah, but you underestimate the influence that knowledge can wield. Power is not solely about titles or positions; it can also be found in the secrets and strategies that lie beneath the surface.”

I held his gaze, searching for any hint of deception. “So you think I should simply take your word at face value, then? You may have the charm, but charm alone does not inspire trust.”

“True,” he admitted, his tone suddenly serious. “Trust is earned, not given freely. But consider this: you are standing at a crossroads, and the decisions you make now will shape your future and that of your people. I may not hold a lord’s title, but I possess knowledge of the intricacies of Eregion and its politics that could prove invaluable to your cause.”

“Yet, you haven’t shown me any reason to believe you,” I replied, my heart still racing. “Your motives are shrouded in mystery, and I cannot afford to align myself with someone I cannot trust.”

Annatar stepped back slightly, his expression softening. “Very well, I respect your caution. But perhaps in time, you’ll see that our paths are more aligned than you think. Let me prove my worth to you, and then you may decide if you wish to trust me.”

I hesitated, grappling with the allure of his proposition. Despite my better judgment, there was a part of me that was intrigued — perhaps even tempted — to explore what he had to offer.

“How would you prove that I can trust you?” I asked, my skepticism still evident. “What assurances do you have that your intentions are genuine?”

Annatar smiled, an enigmatic glint in his eyes. “Trust, like any valuable treasure, requires demonstration. Allow me to show you the power of knowledge.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I have eyes and ears throughout Eregion. I can gather information about Celebrimbor’s inner circle, the potential threats you face, and even the whispers of dissent among your Númenórean allies.”

I considered his offer, intrigued despite myself. “And in exchange for this information, what do you seek? What’s the catch?”

“Only a partnership,” he replied smoothly. “I do not seek to manipulate you; rather, I wish to work alongside you. Together, we can forge a stronger path forward for both Númenor and Eregion. You want to restore the alliance with the elves, and I can help you navigate the complexities of elven politics. In return, I ask only for your openness and trust.”

“That seems quite a lot to ask for,” I said, my heart racing as I weighed my options. “How do I know you won’t turn on me when it suits your purposes?”

“Because, my dear ambassador,” he said, a hint of flirtation returning to his tone, “I see potential in you that others do not.”

The air between us thickened with an electric tension, the kind that sent shivers down my spine. Annatar’s presence was intoxicating, and I could feel the magnetic pull drawing me closer despite my instincts urging caution.

“You speak of partnership,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, “but you make it sound so enticing. Yet I can't help but wonder what your true intentions are.”

He took another step closer, our eyes locked, and I could see the depth of his allure reflected in those hazel irises. “My true intentions,” he mused, his tone low, “are to create a future where we both thrive. But I must admit, it is also the challenge of engaging with a spirited human like you that captivates me.”

A warmth spread through me, and I fought to maintain my composure. “You are skilled with your words, Lord Annatar. But I refuse to be charmed into naivety.”

“Charm can be a powerful tool,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, “but I offer more than mere words. I offer you the chance to change the course of history, to reclaim the alliance with the elves. And I will be by your side, guiding you through the intricacies of this new world.”

My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, I was torn between desire and wariness. “And if I choose to trust you? What will that mean for us?”

His smile deepened, a knowing glimmer in his eyes. “It would mean we forge a bond stronger than mere politics. A partnership rooted in ambition and, perhaps, something more. Imagine the power we could wield together.”

As his words hung in the air, the tension between us crackled like fire, and I realized that I was teetering on the edge of a choice that could change everything.

As if sensing the tumult of emotions swirling within me, Annatar reached out and gently brushed his fingers against my hand. The touch sent a jolt of warmth through me that made my heart race even faster.

“Imagine what we could accomplish together,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. The contact felt intimate, almost possessive, and it stirred something deep within me.

I looked down at our hands, the contrast between his ethereal grace and my own human warmth. Because deep down the truth was right there: he could survive anything, and I was just human. The risks were bigger to me.

“You make it sound so simple,” I replied, my voice trembling slightly. “But the stakes are too high. I can’t afford to be reckless.”

Annatar’s gaze softened, and he leaned in slightly, closing the distance between us. “Sometimes, taking a risk is the only way to find true strength. Allow yourself to feel, to trust in this moment. We are both drawn to something greater than ourselves.”

His fingers lingered on mine, and I could feel the tension between us shifting, intensifying. The world around us faded, leaving only the two of us in that charged moment. My mind raced with uncertainty, but a part of me yearned to surrender.

“But I built my life being cunning,” I said, my voice steady as I pulled my hand away, creating space between us. “I know how to read people, to see through their games. I know I’m being led on.”

Annatar’s expression shifted slightly, the playful glint in his eyes fading to something more serious. “You are wise to be cautious, especially in a world filled with deception,” he replied, his voice losing its flirtatious edge. “But not all gestures are manipulations. Sometimes, they are simply invitations to explore the possibilities.”

I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to let his charm disarm me completely. “You may speak of possibilities, but I cannot afford to be swayed by mere words. My life has taught me that beauty often hides darkness, and I won’t fall for it again.”

He stepped back, respecting the distance I had created. “I admire your strength,” he said, his tone earnest. “But know this: the greatest alliances are forged through understanding and trust, not fear. You may believe you are the one leading, but there are forces at play far beyond our control.”

“Then prove it,” I challenged, my heart still racing. “Show me that you are more than just a pretty face with a silver tongue. If you truly believe we can achieve something greater together, then earn my trust. I won’t follow blindly, no matter how tempting the offer.”

Annatar studied me for a moment, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “Very well,” he said slowly, a hint of respect in his eyes. “Let us start with transparency. Share your ambitions, your plans for Númenor and the alliance with the elves. And I will do the same. Perhaps then we can determine if our goals truly align.”

I straightened my shoulders, feeling the weight of authority settle over me. “If we are to forge any kind of partnership, it starts with honesty and control, Lord Annatar,” I said, my tone firm. “I won’t allow myself to be dazzled by your charm without understanding what you truly bring to the table.”

Annatar raised an eyebrow, surprise flickering across his features. “You have fire in you, don’t you?” he remarked, his admiration palpable.

“Absolutely,” I replied, my voice unwavering. “My aim is clear: I plan to dethrone Ar-Pharazôn and restore the alliance with the elves. We face a growing darkness, and I refuse to stand by while it threatens us all.”

“Ambitious,” he mused, a hint of admiration in his voice. “But you must realize the dangers of such a pursuit. Ar-Pharazôn is not an easy foe to overcome.”

“That’s where you come in,” I countered, locking my gaze with his. “I need someone who can navigate these treacherous waters, someone who understands the intricacies of elven politics and can help me strategize, just as you said. But this alliance has to be mutual; I can’t afford to trust someone who is merely playing a part.”

Annatar's smile softened, as if he found my assertiveness refreshing. “And what makes you think I would want to play a part? Perhaps I’m genuinely interested in your cause,” he replied, his voice taking on a more earnest tone.

“Prove it,” I challenged, stepping closer, reveling in the power shift. “Show me that you’re willing to stand beside me, not just as an advisor but as a partner who believes in our mission. I need someone who can think on their feet, someone who isn’t afraid to act decisively.”

He regarded me, the playful glint in his eye replaced by genuine interest. “You’re asking a lot. Loyalty in this game is hard to come by.”

“Then earn it,” I said, undeterred. “Be the ally I need, and in return, you’ll find that I’m not just a mere human. I’m cunning, resourceful, and not easily swayed. I can be a formidable force.”

The air between us crackled with tension, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. “You have a way of making things sound… irresistible,” he admitted, his tone shifting to one of vulnerability.

“Then let’s make this irresistible,” I said, my voice lowering as I leaned in closer, capturing his full attention. “You provide the knowledge and insight, and I’ll bring the ambition and will. Together, we can not only reclaim what is ours but reshape the future of both Númenor and the elves of Middle-Earth.”

In that moment, I could see the flicker of something deeper in his eyes — an appreciation for my boldness, perhaps even a hint of admiration. He nodded slowly, entranced. “I’ll follow your lead, then. You have my loyalty, númenórean, but know that you’ve captured my interest in more ways than one.”

As I spoke, I felt the air between us thicken with a tension that was both exhilarating and dangerous. “If we’re going to make this work, we need to consider every angle. I have ideas about how to approach the elves, but I need your insights to navigate their intricacies,” I said, my voice steady as I maintained eye contact.

Annatar’s gaze was intense, a spark of something deeper flickering in those hazel depths. “You’re right to think strategically,” he replied, his tone smooth and inviting. “But it’s not just about words. Sometimes, the best plans are forged in action.”

“Forged?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow, but I found myself drawn in by the way he spoke, his voice low and rich.

“Yes,” he said, a slight smile playing on his lips as he gestured for me to follow him. “Let me show you something. There’s a place where ideas take shape, where metal bends to the will of the creator.”

I fell into step beside him, my heart racing, though I hadn’t quite realized where he was leading me. “You think I’m just going to follow you without question?” I challenged lightly, trying to maintain some semblance of control.

“Not without question,” he replied, his voice laced with an alluring confidence. “But with curiosity. Trust me; you’ll see.”

As we walked through the winding halls of the fortress, I couldn’t help but admire the way he moved — graceful and commanding, every step calculated yet fluid. His presence seemed to draw me in, and I found myself leaning closer, watching his hair sway gently, smelling his strangely earthy scent.

“Think of it this way,” he continued, his voice a murmur. “The forge is not just about shaping metal; it’s about creating something powerful together. Just like our plans. We can take the raw materials of our ambitions and mold them into something formidable.”

I nodded, my mind racing with the possibilities. “You make it sound so simple,” I said, my voice softer now, barely above a whisper. “But it’s a complex game we’re playing.”

“True, but complexity can be beautiful,” he replied, his gaze lingering on me as if he were studying the very essence of my ambition. “Sometimes, all it takes is a spark to ignite the fire.”

As we reached the entrance to the forge, the heat radiated from within, wrapping around us like a warm embrace. The rhythmic clang of metal against metal resonated through the air, and I felt an unexpected thrill at the thought of what was to come.

Annatar paused, turning to face me, his expression serious yet charged with something else. I took a deep breath, feeling the energy pulsing around us.

He stepped closer, guiding me through the space filled with flickering flames and the scent of heated metal. “Look at this,” he said, gesturing toward a glowing piece of wrought iron, still malleable in the heat.

His proximity sent my heart racing, the heat of the forge mirrored in the heat of his gaze. I met his eyes, feeling the pull between us intensifying as we discussed our plans.

As the conversation flowed, Annatar’s intensity seemed to fill the forge, and he glanced toward the smiths working diligently at their tasks. “You’ll want to see this without distractions,” he said, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and the clang of hammers faded as they exited, leaving just the two of us in the warm, flickering glow of the forge.

I watched them leave, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension settling over me. “What exactly do you have planned?” I asked, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest.

Annatar stepped closer, his presence enveloping me as he reached into a small, intricately carved chest nearby. “Something that represents our potential,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. He opened the chest and revealed a stunning ring, glinting with a deep, mysterious light.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathed, captivated by the way the light danced across its surface, catching hints of color as if it held secrets of its own. As if it were alive. The band was intricately designed, adorned with delicate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer in the dim light.

“This ring was crafted for a purpose,” he said, lifting it from the chest with a reverence that made my heart skip a beat. “It symbolizes the bond we can forge — an alliance that can withstand the tests of time and adversity.”

I studied him, feeling the weight of his gaze upon me as he continued. “But it’s more than just a ring; it’s a reminder of the power we can wield together. Imagine the possibilities if we combined our strengths.”

“And what do you expect me to do with it?” I asked, my voice steady but tinged with intrigue. “Wear it like a promise? An oath of loyalty?”

Annatar stepped even closer, the heat radiating from him mingling with the warmth of the forge. “It can be all of that,” he replied, his voice dropping to a whisper as he held the ring up between us. “But more importantly, it signifies trust. Trust in each other, trust in our goals.”

His proximity was intoxicating, and I felt the urge to lean in, to close the distance that remained between us. “Trust is earned, not given,” I reminded him, my heart racing as I locked eyes with him. “You must prove that you are not just a fleeting ally.”

Annatar smiled, a hint of playfulness returning to his expression. “Then let me prove it to you. Allow me to place this ring on your finger, and let it be a testament to what we can achieve together.”

I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing with the implications of such an act. But the allure of the ring and the man before me was too strong to resist.

“Very well,” I said, holding my breath as I extended my hand toward him. “Show me what this alliance means.”

As he gently slipped the ring onto my finger, I felt a rush of energy, a binding connection that intertwined our fates. Annatar’s fingers brushed against my skin, sending a spark through me that ignited a sense of both anticipation and dread. I realized then that this was more than just a promise — it was a pivotal moment that could change everything.

The air crackled with tension as the ring settled on my finger, the weight of it both exhilarating and daunting. I glanced up at Annatar, my heart racing, only to find his gaze locked onto mine, filled with an intensity that made the world around us fade.

He whispered my name, his voice so smooth that seemed to resonate deep within me. “This is just the beginning of what we can create together.”

His proximity felt intoxicating, and as I met his eyes, I could see a flicker of something more than just ambition — something that hinted at desire. The forge, with its flickering flames and the remnants of heated metal, seemed to fade into the background as he stepped even closer, the heat from the fire echoed in the warmth of his presence.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you.” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned in, closing the distance between us.

My breath caught in my throat, and I felt a rush of vulnerability.

In that moment, the tension reached a breaking point. Annatar’s eyes flickered with a mixture of mischief and sincerity, and before I could process what was happening, he leaned down and captured my lips with his.

The kiss was rushed — soft yet urgent, a mingling of fire and ice that sent shivers down my spine. I felt his hand cup the back of my neck, drawing me closer, deepening the kiss as I instinctively responded. My heart raced, and I was consumed by the moment, the world around us fading into nothingness.

As our lips moved together, I tasted the warmth of his mouth, caressing your tongue with mine. Then I felt his nails sliding down my neck, the promise of something untamed.

Just as I began to melt into the moment, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine. “You see?” he said, his breath warm and heavy against my skin. “This is what we can achieve when we trust each other.”

I blinked, still reeling from the kiss, the intensity of it coursing through me. “You know this complicates things,” I replied, trying to regain my composure, though I could feel my cheeks flush.

“Complication can be a catalyst for greatness,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “Embrace it. Together, we can harness this power, both politically and... personally.”

I took a deep breath, the gravity of our connection settling over me like a cloak. “Perhaps you’re right,” I admitted, my heart still racing. “But know this, Annatar: I won’t be just another pawn in your game. I will play my part, but I will do so on my terms.”

His eyes gleamed with admiration and something darker, a challenge that hung in the air between us. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk.

His lips pressed against mine again, this time with more urgency. My hands touched his face and slid down to his hair, gripping the strands tightly as if I needed to anchor myself to him.

Annatar's hands slid down my neck, reaching around my back and pulling me closer as if we could have even more contact. I don't know how, but somehow we moved far enough apart to enter an adjoining room with a set of sofas.

Gently sliding his fingers up my silk dress, Annatar pulled me onto his lap as he sat on the couch. My legs spread to trap his body beneath mine. The feeling of a few layers of clothing separating my pussy from his hard cock was delirious.

As I imagine it was for him. A tiny involuntary movement of my hips made Annatar close his eyes with a longing sigh. "Is it one of your plans to end me?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," I said, this time intentionally pressing myself against his cock, feeling the heat radiate through the fabric. His breath caught, and a soft groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, momentarily lost in the sensation.

I watched him, reveling in the way his features shifted between pleasure and restraint. With a smirk, I leaned closer, letting my lips brush against his pointed ear, teasing him further. “You know, I could be very persuasive if you allow me to be.”

His hands tightened around my waist, fingers digging into the silk of my dress as he pulled me even closer. “Oh, I have no doubt about that,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine. “But the question is, how far are you willing to go to achieve your goals?”

“Further than you can imagine,” I breathed, feeling bold as I began to grind against him, the friction igniting a fire within me. Annatar’s breath quickened, and I could feel his body responding to every movement.

His hands roamed up my back, fingers tangling in my hair as he tilted my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze. “And what if I want to distract you from those goals?” he asked, his tone playful yet serious. “What if I want to keep you right here, under my control?”

The challenge in his words only fueled my desire. “You think you can keep me distracted?” I replied, a sly smile on my lips. “You underestimate my determination. But…” I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his once more, lingering just enough to feel he leaning over to seek my lips “I could be persuaded to enjoy this moment a little longer.”

With that, I pressed my lips against his, a slow, deliberate kiss. I felt his tongue entering my mouth, he is a skilled lover, it seems. I responded with equal fervor, deepening the kiss as our mouths moved together.

“Fuck", he whispered against my lips, his hands sliding down to grip my thighs, pulling me even closer, as his other hand caressed my breast, his skilled fingers finding my nipple beneath the silk. “If we continue like this, I won’t be able to focus on anything but you.”

“Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” I teased, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, my eyes sparkling with mischief. I quickly untied the ties that held the dress together, pulling the garment over my head and leaving myself dressed only in my underwear made of a transparent purple fabric. My nipples show through the fabric, hard with anticipation.

Annatar’s eyes darkened with lust, and he leaned in, capturing my right nipple between his lips. A moan tore from my throat, I didn't know I was so desperate for his touch.

Without much haste, he gave all his attention to my nipples. Nibbling gently, sucking them hard. I was already very wet and trying to satisfy myself with involuntary movements on his lap when he stopped. I opened my eyes and saw the result of his attention: my breasts marked by purple hickeys, my nipples red and hard and sensitive to the slightest touch.

My breath was already coming in short pants when Annatar took me off his lap, laying me down on the couch without much delicacy. "I've never been with a human, it's interesting how you respond so quickly"

"I've never been with an elve, and I hope you're not that quick." I retorted with a mischievous smile.

Gently pining me back against the plush cushion of the sofa, Annatar’s eyes glinted with mischief and desire. "Of all the things you could say, you just pick the most dangerous one?” he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he sank to his knees before me.

My heart raced as I felt the cool air of the room against my skin, the anticipation sending a thrill through me. He looked up at me, his gaze filled with a mix of reverence and hunger, and I could feel my pulse quickening as he slowly began to push my underwear.

“Let me taste you,” he whispered, his breath warm against my thighs, making me shiver with anticipation as he left soft kisses on my thighs. I could hardly contain myself, the heat pooling low in my stomach as he leaned closer, moving my left leg over his shoulder while one of his hands was busy tracing my poor nipple.

With deliberate slowness, one of his hand He reached between my legs, his thumb easily finding a good place to make gentle circles.

At that moment I felt enormous pleasure not in his movements, nor even in the indecent position, but in his eyes fixed on mine. This act of observing me was more filth than any other.

My bare skin was exposed to his eager mouth. But first, he said "Please", with shining eyes, full of eagerness. How could I deny him?

"Yes", my voice sounded like a wanton whore. It was horrible, it was so fucked up, it was so good.

The sensation of his warm breath against my pussy made me gasp, and I arched my back, craving more.

Annatar looked up at me once more, his expression one of pure devotion. “You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice a low growl that sent a thrill through me. Then, without another word, he dove in, his mouth capturing me in a way that made my entire body quiver.

I gasped as his tongue flicked against my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. He was skilled, and he knew exactly how to drive me wild.

“Oh, Annatar,” I moaned, my fingers tangling in his hair as I instinctively pushed my hips forward, wanting more of him. “Don’t stop.”

He responded with a growl of his own, his mouth working me with fervor, each motion sending jolts of ecstasy through my body.

When I moved too much I felt a pinch on my nipple as a reprimand, if I behaved I was pleased with a brief pulse of his fingers inside me. It was a game I never lost.

I felt my legs begin to tremble, the pressure building as I was teetering on the edge of bliss. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me in place as he focused entirely on my pleasure.

“Just like that,” I gasped, my breath hitching as he applied just the right amount of pressure. He knew my body as if he had memorized every curve and contour, every sensitive spot that would send me spiraling into bliss.

I could hardly think, lost in a haze of pleasure as he devoured me, his tongue swirling and teasing with expert precision. The world around me faded.

“Please, I’m so close,” I breathed, my voice barely above a whisper as the tension within me built to a nearly unbearable peak. Annatar responded by intensifying his efforts, his tongue moving faster, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

He didn’t stop, continuing to lap at me gently, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from my body until I was left breathless, panting.

Then Annatar pulled back, his mouth shining with my arousal, with a satisfied grin. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he looked up at me, two fingers entering me slowly.

I could hardly respond, the intensity of what he done. All I could manage was a breathless smile, my eyes closing to the feeling.

How can someone be so close and yet so far?

Picking me up like a feather, Annatar lifted my hips, adjusting my body into a favorable position for his observation. He was still wearing his tunic and had his pants on underneath, so I took advantage of the moment to remove his clothes. In the middle of removing the ties on his tunic, he kissed me. I felt my taste on his lips more than anything.

"I want to do something," I said, pushing him to sit on the couch. He was still wearing his pants when I sat on his lap.

"Anything" he says.

Motivated, I kissed them as my fingers slid down his abdomen, feeling his muscles and following the path to his groin. He was extremely hard and when I slid my hand inside his pants, I felt that he was much bigger than I expected.

Annatar moaned into the kiss as I pulled his cock and adjusted myself over it, sliding my wet pussy down the length of his member. It was, in fact, much larger than I had expected. It filled me completely and for a moment I stood there waiting to adjust.

Sensing my slight discomfort, Annatar pressed her thumb to my clit. "You're perfect, you take me so good." he whispered.

Beneath his appreciative words and his skillful fingers I moaned. A wave of pleasure overtook me as I moved, riding his cock, feeling Annatar's lips on my neck, my nipples.

It didn't take long for my movements to become erratic, in fact, it happened the moment I felt his pre-cum slip down my pussy and he squeezed my ass against him, forcing his cock even further so he could fit.

Any composure Lord Annatar had was gone. The elve was losing himself in his own pleasure, his hair, which had once been perfectly arranged in a bow, was a mess, with some strands sticking to the sweat on his temple or even to the sweat on my breasts, his mouth red from our kisses, his eyes bright and dilated. He was a vision.

""Make me cum," he demanded, that husky tone not a plea at all. "I want to see my cum dripping out of your pussy."

I opened my mouth, in surprise and also from the sudden thrust he gave his hips so that his upward movement met my downward movement. Reaching behind me, my fingers groped his balls. Caressing them as best I could while my pussy squeezed his cock intermittently.

That was probably the beginning of the end for him.

I watched as he closed his eyes and threw his head back, his lips parted in a gasp. I got even more excited and rode his cock with more determination. "Did you like that?" I murmured, sucking on his exposed neck.

My own orgasm was close, seeing him a mess made something in me tighten. I was in my own world as I shivered and held myself tighter to him, just as he did as he held my body in his arms, his lips on mine, hearing me moan in torture. I felt more than anything his hot cum, his cock throbbing in my pussy.

When it was over, we didn’t do much. He held me and let us both fall sideways onto the couch, holding me close. When our breathing had evened out, Annatar brought my hand, the one with the ring on it, to his lips.

"I think we are equally persistent in our persuasion," he said, an exhausted smile on his face.

[sidver]