Summary: Discontented with corruption and creating imitations from the living, Melkor decides to take a new approach by creating something from the dead.
(Author's note: I saw the recent Frankenstein movie and was slightly inspired. )
Warnings: Melkor being a warning himself, mentions of experimentation, desecration of the dead, rituals, possessiveness, torture, Melkor doesn't like having responsibilities, Melkor attempting to have you killed, heavy angst, and you escaping with your life.
-It would all begin with Melkor feeling discontented. He had created orcs by torturing and corrupting elves beyond return, he had created dragons from years of breeding, and he had made other monstrous things from creatures he had taken and reshaped—all in mockery of his creator’s and his kin’s designs.
-But, he had yet to create something of his own — something that wasn’t born out of his corruption. Something he himself designed and brought to life.
-This angered him greatly. Way before Arda was created, he had looked for the flame imperishable, and even after centuries, he had not found a way to achieve the gift of creation — only able to create through corruption of what already existed.
- He then had an idea.
-This idea came when he was overlooking the labor and torture of his many thralls, and he laid his gaze upon the corpses left by those who had perished under his rule. It got him thinking in a new direction.
-All this time, he had created his many monstrosities through corrupting the living, but maybe, this time, he could create something from the dead.
-With his mind set, he went to work.
-Thanks to his many experiments in corrupting the living, he was well versed in the knowledge of bodies and their internal structures. Still, he decided to gather more knowledge, to look deeper into what made the body react even when the soul had long departed.
-After days of gathering knowledge, he began the phase of collecting the body parts to assemble his creation.
-For the body, he took pieces of the dead elves as they proved more resilient. Collecting only the best and those that suited his vision. He could not afford to collect body parts that could compromise his creation.
-He then stitched the body parts together, using sorcery to attach the limbs and veins together. He filled the body with blood collected from the living and placed only the strongest heart he could find inside it.
-He spent days shaping the body to his design, even giving it features that mirrored his own, as it was only fitting that the creation resemble its creator.
-After many days of exhausting work, it was time to bring life into his creation’s empty husk.
-Though he possessed the knowledge, he did not intend to use necromancy. He wanted to bring his idea to life, not bring them back as an undead.
-As his powers could only taint and reshape, Melkor decided that in order for his creation to come to life, he would use one of his brother’s lightnings.
-Capturing and stealing lightning from his brother’s domain was no simple task. Unlike his docile, naive brother, the lightning spirits themselves were untamed and volatile — much more unpredictable than the ruler of their skies.
-But Melkor eventually succeeded in capturing one of the lightnings, and thus the ritual could begin.
- Imprisoning his brother’s lightning in a contraption above the assembled body, Melkor brought forth his power and sang, commanding the lightning to strike the body and make its heart start beating. But he underestimated the lightning’s wild nature.
-The lightning struck the body, but it managed to break itself free in the process, causing havoc and destruction around him. It soon broke through the ceiling of the chamber, disappearing back into his brother’s domain.
-Melkor quickly approached his creation. The body had withstood the lightning’s power. However, Melkor heard no heartbeat, felt no rising warmth or movement that hinted it was alive — nothing.
-Melkor screamed in rage, cursing Eru for not granting him the gift of creation or even allowing him to create from death. He stormed out of the chamber, unaware of the subtle movements of his creation’s fingers.
-By the following morning, having cooled from his fit of rage, Melkor rested in his seat of power and began considering his next move.
-The ritual had been a failure, and he could not pinpoint what had gone wrong. Did his brother’s accursed lightning damage the heart or other vital organs? Or was it perhaps unwise to use the lightning to awaken his creation?
-Even though exhausted from facing such a failure after days of hard work, Melkor decided to return to the ritual chamber. He might as well open the body and see if the problem lay within.
-However, after entering the ritual chamber, he became startled to find his creation gone.
-He had made it clear that no one would be permitted to enter the chamber or touch the body, so he found it strange when his servants responded through the osanwe that no one had gone into the chamber since the ritual.
-At the table where the body had lain, Melkor found strips of cloth he had used to cover it scattered across the floor. He picked one up and noticed a wet footprint beneath it. The chamber dripped water from its crevices, so the floor was damp, which allowed him to find more footprints around the room.
-Confusion and excitement stirred within him as his eyes followed the footprints. Could it be?
-When he suddenly felt a presence, he looked up to see his creation standing on the other side of the table. He stared in stunned silence as you looked back at him, one of your dark eyes uncovered by the cloth.
-Quietly, Melkor walked around the table, approaching you as you stood there, watching him. With shaking hands, he grabbed onto the cloth wrapped around your head and slowly uncovered your face.
-With the cloth around your face gone, Melkor looked at you in awe. Though your skin was still as pale as the dead, your chest moved with each breath you took, and your eyes held life as they looked around the chamber.
-Melkor raised his hand and watched as you looked at him and then mimicked his action, mirroring his movements. He felt the air nearly get stuck in his throat. His mind struggled to comprehend that you were truly standing there, alive. Not a corruption, but a living being.
- And perhaps for the first time in his life, Melkor would shed tears from both joy and pride, especially when you spoke to him, uttering his name as your first word.
-For the first time in his entire existence, he had succeeded in creating life — something that was truly created by him, and him alone.
-You were skittish at first. You shied away frightfully when Melkor showed you fire for the first time. But with surprising tenderness, he pulled you closer, teaching you not to be afraid of it. It was your first introduction to light and warmth.
-For the weeks that followed, Melkor spent his time showing you things and trying to teach you to speak more words. He barely allowed any of his servants to come near you with possessiveness that even surprised him. He didn't want to risk his enemies knowing about you and possibly plot your destruction.
-He had spent years trying to find a way to create life, and now that he had finally succeeded. There was no way he would allow his enemies to destroy his first true creation.
- However, as time passed, Melkor began to grow impatient.
-You were a slow learner. You didn't learn to say any new words besides his name, which you uttered constantly with fondness. Though curious, you couldn't grasp anything he attempted to teach you, no matter how patiently he tried to explain it.
-This caused his impatience to grow deeper. You were like a newborn inside of a full-grown adult.
-The satisfaction of creating life soon dulled within him.
-You had become more like a responsibility than a success. Though he designed and assembled you, you were nothing he imagined.
-Slowly, Melkor began to grow distant from you. He allowed Mairon and his other servants to care for you while he watched from a distance.
-You noticed the change, though you didn’t understand why he began disappearing for longer periods of time. When you saw him and called his name, he ignored you, leaving you more confused than before. There was also this look in his eyes that stirred an unpleasant feeling within you—something that felt opposite to warmth.
-As the time passed, Melkor’s dissatisfaction grew deeper. Looking at you began to feel more like looking at a failure.
-Yes. Perhaps you were a failure.
-The turning point came when Melkor noticed an elven thrall who had wandered into the living space where you were held. He had kept his thralls away from your sight to prevent any possible tampering, but this time he chose to stay in the shadows and observe how you would react to one of the Eldar.
-As expected, you regarded the elf with caution at first, having never seen one before. Yet when the elf dared to approach, speaking to you softly, your wariness turned into quiet curiosity. The elf showed no fear of you either, offering only gentleness in their movements and voice.
-Melkor watched as the elf asked whether you could speak, then placed your hand against their neck, allowing you to feel the vibration of their voice as they spoke their name. You mimicked the gesture in return and, for the first time, softly uttered someone else's name.
-This caused Melkor to grow furious. He stepped out of the shadows and had the elf detained, intending to punish them for tampering with what was his.
-You were confused by what was happening. But when Melkor began torturing the elf, you released a frightened sound, and your eyes widened in horror. That was the moment Melkor decided to get rid of you.
-Grabbing you harshly, he dragged you to a secluded chamber in his fortress. He put you in chains and then commanded you to say something other than his name. When you said his name, he struck you with an iron pole, making you feel pain for the first time.
-Screaming in pain, you called his name, which only prompted him to strike you again. He yelled at you to say something else, and when he raised his hand to hit you once more, you seized the iron pole from his grasp and, in a surge of anger, broke it in half.
-Melkor was surprised by your strength, but then began walking away. He stopped right at the entrance and turned toward you, giving you one more chance to say something else. Something that would make you worth keeping.
-You only looked at him and quietly uttered his name.
-With a silent sneer, he left the chamber and ordered the orcs to have you disposed.
-The orcs took pleasure in your pain when they came and began striking you with whips and clubs. You screamed from the pain, and for Melkor, who didn't come back for you. When the pain continued, you broke free from the chains and killed one of the orcs.
-The remaining orcs ran away in fear of your strength. Fleeing through the entrance, they then pushed burning barrels into the chamber, setting the entire place on fire.
-With the fire threatening to consume you, you broke free from the remaining chain that held you in place and hurled yourself into a water tunnel the orcs used to dispose of unusable waste.
-The roaring flames chased after you inside the tunnel, the heat biting at your skin and sending your heart into a frantic pound.
-At the tunnel’s end, you were suddenly flung from a great height, plunging off a cliff and into a river below, where freezing water closed around you.
-The river was harsh and unforgiving. You were helplessly tossed around and left to struggle to breathe until you were pushed down once more, and something struck you in the head, letting you fall into dreamless darkness.
-After some time, you awakened on a cold rocky beach, far away from Angband.
-You stood and breathed in air that felt far fresher than the air of Angband. You stared at the open sky above you in pure awe. It felt endless, and for a moment, you felt as though it might swallow you whole if you stared at it any longer.
-Slowly, you began shivering from the cold. When you saw the beach was covered by bones and decaying corpses, most likely drifted from Angband, you knelt down to one of them and pulled a cloak that seemed intact.
-Wrapping yourself in the cloak, you lifted your gaze toward the woods ahead. Having never seen a forest before, the thought of entering it filled you with fear. But with nowhere else to go, you mustered the courage to move forward and step into the world beyond.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
My dear friends, I come bearing Sauron smut. 🎁
Inspired entirely by the absolute masterpiece* currently pinned to this blog (though — and I cannot stress this enough — neither the artist, nor OP, is in any way affiliated with this degenerate filth).
It will get weird and dark, as is my way, but for now it's pure angbang x reader smutty goodness (at least, I hope it's good).
*No longer pinned, can be found under #jfc this goes so hard
Please enjoy. 💕 Extract below cut:
You see a flash and catch his lieutenant's eye, in a mirror behind. They seem alight — as a cat's — glowing in the dimness of the room, drawing you in... What is he still doing here?
Your wandered gaze does not go unnoticed.
"Mairon, come join us." Your eyes snap back to the man in front of you. You hear the chamber doors, closing quietly behind you. The other moves silently, then, suddenly from behind, another body pressed against yours.
A kiss on your neck. One side, then the other. At the same time. Both of them; their lips, tongues, teeth, on you. On each other...
okay I didn't send the last few asks but it sounds like morgoth can't handle mairon getting like, any positive things said about him by other people? and... I feel like starting shit, soooo
*on a megaphone outside of Angband's gates, with great hostility* Mairon's hair IS so pretty and he's also SO PRETTY, he's THE MOST WONDERFUL THING IN THE WHOLE WORLD, everyone else seems INSIPID, DUMB, and DRAB in comparison
Melkor, standing on the walkway that ran along the ramparts, hears what is said and clutches at his chest with both hands. “Oh!” He cries. “To be compared to a servant in both fashion and beauty! To have my own greater beauty scorned so! Fetch the dresser!” He shouts at an orc nearby. “And my barber! I must show this admirer of Mairon who is the true beauty of us all!”
He pauses for a moment, thinks, and adds more to his command. "And fetch Mairon! He must put an end to such vile slander once and for all."
Request: Can I make a request for headcanons for how the Ainur would be with a short human reader? Around 5 foot tall? Like an elf of about 6 feet would only reach up to some of their chest or lower still, considering they’re like 7-9 foot tall. Would they be cute, teasing, protective, frustrated by the height difference? P.s. I love the way you characterise all the Ainur, it really feels like their personality, you do a fantastic job. - anon
A/N: Happy to fulfil this request and learn that you enjoy my characterisations of them anon. I tend to envision the Ainur as nothing less than nine feet since they are deities and display their power through their heights. So you’re going to appear super short next to them. Nonetheless, Enjoy!
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Manwë
The bird was too stunned to speak. Are you a child or dwarf, certainly that could not be your final height at the end of your growth? Unfortunately, it is your complete height which makes you appear as a little bird before the great King. Now his nickname ‘little bird’ makes more sense.
He cannot fathom how you can be the same size as a bean and packed with all that sass whenever he mentions how tiny you are. You require a ladder if you ever reach his head for a ‘level-headed’ talk.
Has no issue picking you up with one hand and carrying you around like his personal comfort toy when he’s having a bad day. Anyone commenting or teasing gets a look that speaks about them receiving a bolt of lightning.
Let us not forget his avian side which is going to fawn over how adorable you are. You’re tiny and squishy, perfect for belonging in his nest where he can shower you in affection all day long.
The size difference is outstanding. Just picture a baby lying in their parents' bed, looking like a little nugget among the pillows…that’s what you appear like anytime you snuggle in his bed. On numerous occasions, he didn’t see you and almost squished you under the sheets.
With your size, it means wearing his robes and marching around his room or Ilmarin pretending to be him while he silently watches from afar. You are drowning in his robes, don’t even wear his shirt, it’s a gown on you.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Irmo
Your size doesn’t change the way he’s going to shower you with ultimate love and affection. Apart from the minor teasing he’ll conduct for the fun of the situation, Irmo loves you the same way if you are tall.
A gentleman who enjoys using the opportunities when granted to lift you over puddles or streams so he can fawn over how you fit in his arms. He (and the others) can lift you with his pinkie and has done it before.
You are authorised to always sleep on his chest—you look like a kitten sleeping on his chest in his eyes—mainly because you like to roll and so does he and nothing good has arisen from you both rolling together.
Gets lost in crowds and he panics. He’ll be walking around asking if anyone has seen his little lover and he will give descriptions. “They’re about 5 feet, this short and very tiny. They look like an elfling…”
Saw children’s clothing on a walk with you in a boutique, did not know they were for children and excitedly stated, “Oh look! I believe these would look lovely on you! They even have your colours.”
Do not be upset with him, he didn’t know that it was children’s clothing. Irmo only wished to share the moment of shopping with you. But worry not, he gathers the best seamstresses and tailors to fashion you the finest wear that looks nothing like children’s clothes.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Námo
Has a smile on his face anytime you take the lead and walk in front of him, hence his reason for always telling you to lead the way. He’s a simple Vala, he wants to watch as you waddle like a duck with your short legs as you take him to Eru knows where.
Pretends to complain when you ‘borrow’ his robes because you missed him, but gushes mentally at the sight of how you’re drowning in his forever monochromatic black robes.
His viridian eyes were soft at the sight of you walking around, dragging his robes all over. The idea of complaining about getting them dirty has disappeared, and all he is thinking about is how you look like a penguin.
Your feet running across his halls are the equivalent of tiny pitter-patter and it’s how he can easily distinguish your presence; just listen for the tiny footsteps. But it never works out well when you’re among elves and lost in a crowd.
The first time you met his brother, Irmo mistook you for a child Námo adopted and congratulated his brother on softening up to the idea of children. To make matters worse, you played along—much to Námo’s annoyance—and clung to his arm, calling him ‘atar/daddy’.
Irmo was elated, you were dying of laughter and Námo was contemplating his life. He couldn’t believe this was the humour he signed up for the moment he fell in love with someone shorter than most individuals.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Ulmo
Mistook you for the child wandering the shores the first time he saw you in the distance and scolded you for playing in the deep waters without parental supervision. That was until he learned you weren’t a child and your permanent height for a lifetime.
‘Pebble’ was the most suitable nickname he gifted you since pebbles were small and cute…like you. Plus, he brings you pebbles, seashells and pearls from the ocean floor as a token of affection.
Because you’re smaller, your strokes as you swim alongside him are slower, so he’ll call the seals, dolphins or whales to swim alongside you for assistance. You’re even allowed to ride them anytime you two are swimming out in the depths.
Since Ulmo’s true form is staggering, he opts to appear around the same height as you are anytime he has to walk the earth. His favourite place to have walks would be the beach obviously.
Hand holding while watching the sunset and he’s quietly staring at your short fingers holding his larger hand. He loves holding your hand to fawn over the size. He would even slip on a cute ring with a pearl one day.
Because Ulmo is known for having no resting place as he wanders the waters of the world, he enjoys visiting your home. It’s even better if you live near a lake for him to have easier access to seeing you frequently. Cue Ulmo marvels at how small your household items are as he picks them up.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Oromë
Congratulations, you are the perfect size to sit on all of his creatures (and him) to ride through the forest with him. He cannot get over your tiny figure because he knows that you’re about the same size as an elfling and all his creatures are larger than you.
Roughhousing is a thing that occurs between you both and he gets caught up in the experience to forget how easily he can send you on a trip to Estë for healing…because it has happened multiple times.
Picks you up like a sack of potatoes and slings you over his shoulder when he has to carry you somewhere and you’re being troublesome, or he wants to randomly surprise you. You’re as light as a feather as he runs with you through the forest.
Swinging from his muscular arms anytime he flexes his muscles for you? Yes, yes you do, and he loves it. Fuels his ego to know that he’s strong and his lover can climb him like a tree. Clinging to his muscular physique and probably biting him? Yes, you do that he calls you a tiny beast who needs to be tamed.
Not the type to underestimate the size of a creature you can ride because of your size but is also cautious at the same time. Wanted to gift you a Shetland pony because you were small enough to ride one, but back out last minute knowing that he would receive an earful. Gave you a giant-sized tiger or dog as a companion.
You wear his pelts and pretend to act like him, attempting to wield his bow—sweetheart, you couldn’t even draw the strings—as though you were hunting.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tulkas
No different from Oromë and will playfight with you using the strength in his pinkie finger and you’d still have to bandage some body parts because accidents happen all the time. No worries though, he praises your injuries and makes you feel as though you fought a great battle with him.
He has no doubts, dismisses your strengths and associates them with your size having seen many great warriors display outstanding strengths and feats despite their size. Instead, he encourages you to take pride in your size and all the greatness you can accomplish.
You got a workout buddy, or rather he got a new dumbbell to lift or someone to sit on his back for push-ups. Your weight is inconsequential, but it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the fun in the moment.
Also picks you up like a sack of potatoes and carries you around the place, introducing you to all his close friends and elves. Anytime you need to speak ‘eye-level’ with him, instead of going to lengths to climb tables or a tree, he’ll kneel to your level.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Melkor
Getting called dwarf, child, or both the first time you meet will result in him changing the names and calling you a critter if you attempt to attack him for calling you short. Probably ‘ankle biter’ might be your new name because he denoted that small things have the most rage.
You’re a ferocious ankle-biter in his eyes whose nerves he enjoys getting on because your responses are hilarious. It’s all in jest…or maybe not.
Nothing of his will ever fit you, that also means trying to wear his crown with the Silmarils. It’s currently sitting on your neck as we speak. All you can do is make versions of his outfits tailored to your size.
You’re smaller, so his hands can cover your entire face. Know what that means? Squish your cheeks as you speak to admire how soft and dough-like they are. “Hm, ankle biter, you have remarkably soft cheeks,” he says while squishing your face.
There’s nothing you can climb on to meet his height because he makes sure that there isn’t anything around. He wants you to break your neck looking up at him (bite his ankles and he’ll reach your height).
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Eönwë
“You’re like a hummingbird minus the speed,” he chuckled upon the first sight of your tiny figure. You were lucky he didn’t consider you a lost child who wandered before him in search of help because he was ready to call you ‘child’.
I have to say, Eӧnwё is the best person to try the same ‘daddy’ prank on when you’re walking through the streets of Valimar but clinging to him and acting like a child for the elves to fawn over how adorable the interaction is. There is always an elf who inquires for you to look them in the eye and say, “This is my atya!”
His avian side adores your tininess; and makes you all the more delicate and squishable. You are never again going to leave the nest…just joking, but his protective side goes up a notch because you are TINY.
I mean, he loses you in a crowd easily and you can’t even jump high enough to show your location. You can climb a table or chair but still have to get past the sea of heads before Eӧnwё spots you.
Gets you the smaller version of everything so you don’t have to struggle with holding the larger objects. He once watched as you climbed a chair as if it were a mountain or fought with a glass of wine because the glass was too big to hold.
At least going on flights doesn’t change whether you’re extra small or bigger. Visits in the morning and takes you to watch the sunrise over the mountain from a bird’s eye view.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tilion
Doesn’t matter if you’re tiny or tall, you still look the same from his view in the sky as he guides the moon. But he does melt at the sight of you looking up at the moon.
You are forever his ‘little deer’ even though you’re probably feisty and love to bite or nibble on his arms all the time. Similar to Oromë, carries you around like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, but more for the fun of watching your short legs dangle.
Doesn’t alter the size of any furniture so he can observe your legs dangling over the edges and sway, or the size difference between you and the table designed for a nine-foot entity.
Roughhousing is a constant must-have between you both because he adores pinning your smaller body under his and making you fight back. Tilion just wants to watch you struggle and wiggle like a worm. Bite him.
Puts you to sleep on top of him because it is the safest option unless you want to be crushed under a giant nine-foot Maia, and you look like a tiny kitten curled up on his chest. The only thing he hasn’t done is pick you up by your scruff.
He’s such a tease when it comes to you both riding through the forest. Tilion will purposefully place you behind him so you can’t see a thing and then tease you about being too small. But it’s all in jest because he’ll have you ride an elk or reindeer or even a pony that was handpicked to match your size.
๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Mairon
He also assumed you’re an ankle biter as well because he called you short and you were ready to attack. Please, do not release him from your tyranny because he will make fun of your height and pat your head or rest his arm atop your head when he’s resting. Again, bite him.
Complains about your short legs and how slow you are when you’re walking side-by-side but comes to you later to ask for assistance because some tool of his fell into a small hole and you’re tiny enough to get it.
Tells you that he’ll feed you to his wolves if you don’t stop clinging to him when in truth, he loves it. You’re small enough to not be a distraction as he moves about his forge or the fortress, but it’s just Mairon being a tsundere.
Doesn’t see you lying in his bed because his bed is huge and you’re extra small, so he almost lies atop your body. It’s turned into a staring match like how children stare you down without blinking.
Has a tendency to carry you around, for funsies, by holding onto your belt or grabbing the back of your clothes so you dangle as he powers through the corridors until he arrives at his Lord holding you like a briefcase.
Deep down, as much as he teases your size, he enjoys the differences. Watching you fight to lift an object made for his size or dress in his clothes—if you’re brave enough to try this—is entertaining.
So, if you would prefer not to provide Sweeter Than...grrr...Perhaps headcannons for Melkor, Mairon, Thranduil, Legolas with a S/O modern day writing about them....
☾ ⋆ﾟ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒
𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: a chapter of Sweeter Than Poetry and headcanons request back-to-back for the writer of my fav fic ♡ Also this is sort of an AU I guess?? With the modern reader being isekai'ed into Middle Earth?
𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: suggestive headcanons (3rd for each character)
｡･:*˚:✧｡thranduil
♡ he won't let you know it but when he first finds your writing about him, he's flattered. Is this how you see him? You describe him like an ethereal being and a part of him thinks it's deserved. He's beyond happy with how you capture him as a character.
♡ it's touching to read about you falling in love with each other over and over again and it really gets to his heart and he truly does find himself falling in love with you all over again.
♡ he finds himself moved by how you've created so many heart-wrenching stories with him as the reader's love interest and how many other people have read your work and enjoyed it too! (Please come humble him a little tho bc it's really feeding his ego sobs). Oh but if you write those fics about the reader still loving him when they can see his scars? He'll love you for eternity, it might even bring tears to his eyes to know that he can still be loved not only despite it but because of it.
♡ nsfw edition: it really strokes his ego to find all the smut you've written about him. Are these your fantasies? He'll keep them in mind and try them out on you and only afterwards will he tease you for having written such things about him
｡･:*˚:✧｡legolas
♡ he's a blushing mess, right up to the tips of his pointed ears. All of this about him? He has this dreamy smile on this face the whole time he's reading through all your fluffy works about him.
♡ like Thranduil, he's enamoured by all these stories of the two of you falling in love over and over again in all sorts of scenarios, it makes him feel like you truly do love him no matter what situation the two of you find each other in
♡ he's so caught up by the AUs!! He's quite confused by all these words he doesn't know but it's like a glimpse into your world!
♡ nsfw edition: he can't read the whole thing. The room feels too hot and he's a blushing mess and stumbling over his words and, oh valar, please help him when you find him in a state with your phone in his hand.
｡･:*˚:✧｡melkor | morgoth
♡ now I could go down a basic route and say that Melkor's ego inflates to an astronomical size because that's exactly how he acts when he confronts you about it but inside? The only things written about him have always been how evil he is and how terrible and irredeemable he is. You don't shy away from his worse traits and yet you write about loving him without trying to redeem him too?
♡ he honestly finds it strange (not weird strange, just unfamiliar strange) that you've depicted him as he is and yet you're writing about loving him? He's not sure how it feels (surprise, Melkor, this is how it feels to be loved, I know it's been a while since you've felt it-)
♡ his favourite parts about the AUs is that it's a world where Eru doesn't exist- no, jokes aside, he really likes the ones where not only are you ok with all his plans, you're actively encouraging and participating in them. Loyalty, obedience and utility are all important to him so these sorts of plots are his favourites.
♡ nsfw edition: will 110% tease you about your fantasies. Awe, this is what you want him to do to you? Beg. Beg as desperately and prettily as you can and once you're pleading for him through frustrated sobs and tears, maybe he'll consider fulfilling all of these filthy fantasies of yours (the begging is just because he knows how badly you want it now, he's more than keen yourself and it's a test of his own patience to hold back).
｡･:*˚:✧｡mairon | sauron
♡ he's reading everything with a big cat-like smirk on his face. You really are obsessed with him, aren't you? Good. He likes to be adored. He also likes knowing that you truly do love him and you're not just using him for something. Like Melkor, he especially likes how you write about loving him without redeeming him.
♡ he lives for any valar slander and he feels really validated by you admiring his perfectionism instead of criticising him for it. Really, he never thought he'd find that validation from anywhere other than Melkor so it's pleasantly surprising.
♡ he gets too confused by the AUs and ends up just skimming them out of frustration, sorry. He really likes the ones where he's in command of everything around him (he's slowly beginning to realise how much he likes your admiration and validation lol) bc he thinks you've characterised him well there
♡ nsfw edition: he'll initiate all of your fantasies without telling you that he knows. Then, halfway through he'll start teasing you about how all these dirty things are exactly what you wanted and you're nowhere as innocent as you make yourself out to be? You could have been writing love letters and yet you chose to write about him fucking your lights out instead. Cute. He thinks you're adorable.
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Prompts “bite me” ”if you insist” and “each of my thoughts about you are improper”
Pairing: Melkor x Fem. Reader (Elf / Finwë’s daughter with Miriel and Fëanor’s twin| second person POV)
Themes: Slowburn | Smut (lemon-ish) | Soft
Warnings: Corruption | Oral (Male receiving) | Fingering | Kissing | First time | Marking | Penetrative Sex | Cream pie
Wordcount: 4.9K words
Summary: Melkor had kidnapped you and kept you confined to a tower while he travelled to Utumno. He has now returned, and asks for you.
Rating: 🔥🔥 Minors DNI | 18+
For rules and tag form, read here.
To the person who requested this, I hope you like it.
You looked out a barred window, your heart aggrieved by the sight that befell your eyes.
There was no starlight here. None could be found in Angband. The sky was murky black from the thick smog of smoke from the keep’s many furnaces. The air was damp and cold and foul. The scent of ash and smoke and worse crept in through the windows and clung to your garments. Some days, the smell was so strong that it made your eyes water and bile rise at the back of your throat. You had no choice but to bear it all in silence. You were a prisoner, utterly dependent on the favor of the one who held you captive.
Still, you supposed, it was a better fate than most. You turned your attention from the sky and peered into the gloomy courtyard. Thralls scurried to and fro like mice desperately trying to escape the talons of an eagle. They were like wraiths, mere shadows of the fair and glorious beings they once were. That was how your captor liked to see them: fearful, half-starved, and brought down to the lowest point of their existence.
Not just them, you realized with great dread. I am one of them. The daughter of a race he loathes with a murderous passion, so the poets and singers say. How long will it be before I am made to sip from the cup that was forced onto them?
Your skin prickled out of fear. You closed the shutters of your window and sharply turned away as soon as a wretched scream carried through the courtyard. You did not want to dwell on that sound or from whom it came. There was no need to feed your nightmares with fresh fodder.
You studied your chambers like you always did, ever since your capture. The walls and floors were bare black stone, the pelts were thick, and the rushes were new. Besides the old hearth, there was a basket filled with blocks of peat instead of wood for a fire. The bed was small but comfortable. You reflected on the remnants of your last meal. The bread and roasted meat had been fresh, the water was clean and cool.
Mine may be a wretched lot, but it is still better than theirs, you reminded yourself. Much better than theirs.
Someone knocked on the door. It was loud and insistent. You made haste to answer it, your shoes clicking over the floor. You expected to find a thrall and came face-to-face with her instead.
Thuringwethil, they called her. Woman of the secret shadow. Herald for the Dark Lord. The first vampire. Her eyes gleamed like new rubies. Her wings dragged behind her whenever she walked. A gown was draped over one arm.
"My lady." You quickly dipped to your knees even as the words stumbled out of your mouth. Anything to not anger her.
A gale of laughter greeted you. It was shrill and painful to the ears, like nails over brittle glass. You had to stop yourself from physically wincing.
"You certainly have good manners, little elf," Thuringwethil replied, and looked over you critically. "That will serve you well with him, I think."
"With him, my lady?" You sputtered in disbelief. "Which him?"
Your mind was a roil. There was more than one him here in Angband, and each one was as mercurial as the next. Was Thuringwethil speaking of Mairon, Melkor’s most favored advisor? Or was she speaking of that Balrog high general? The one who could change from a creature of great beauty to one that inspired nothing but sheer terror? Or was it the Maia who found great joy in changing into a giant cat and tormenting everyone who crossed his path?
"Him," she said, and moved around you in an elegant flourish. Her wings trailed behind her over the floor, all black and deep crimson. You took a deep breath and sighed wistfully. The very air around her smelled like a meadow in full bloom. It did not surprise you. Thuringwethil used to be Yavanna’s Maia after all. "Lord Melkor, no less. He has returned from Utumno and wishes to dine with you."
You gave her a measured look. You were a prisoner, captured and carried off after a daring raid in the heart of Valinor itself. And now you have been invited to dine with your captor, the Lord of Angband, no less. The prospect frightened you.
"I… I hope I will not offend Lord Melkor," you blurted out, and hoped this invitation was not a ruse to heap unspeakable agony upon you.
"I see you truly are nothing like that heedless, foul-tempered brother of yours," Thuringwethil observed, not unkindly. "And I promise, he will not be offended by anything you do."
She did not give you time to think or frame a reply. She went on to add, "Thralls will see to your bath now. An orc will come to fetch you once you have finished."
You shivered and nodded in fright. Thuringwethil took her leave of you, practically floating out of your chambers in a swirl of wings and lace and night-blooming roses. You walked over to your bed and ran the flat of your palm over your new dress. It was soft to the touch and dripping in gems, and finer than any gown you possessed before.
So lavish, you mused. What does he want from me?
There was another knock on your door. This time it was hesitant and timid. "Come in, please," you said, and moved away from the bed.
Thralls walked in carrying pails of clean, warm water. Another pair brought with them a small copper tub and a towel. A thrall filled the tub with water before adding fragrant oils. Another helped you out of your robes, her eyes downcast. Her fingers fumbled with the sash; it was as if they had all turned into thumbs. You wanted to talk to her, to ask how she came to be here. All you did, in the end, was bite your tongue.
I must take care of what I say to them. It may cause more trouble for them if I do.
The sweet-smelling water was a welcome relief from the smells of the outside world. The thralls sluiced water over your hair before gently brushing out any tangles. One of them went to work on your nails and feet. It felt strange, to have them wait on you in such a manner. It was stranger still, given the cause for such pampering.
She said nothing I do could offend him. I am certain now that he must want something from me. What is it?
You had seen Melkor before. He had come calling on your brother; his words like honey. You were by an upstairs window, looking down on the gardens where they stood. Fëanor had been furious with the Vala’s intrusion. He grew even more enraged when the Vala glanced up and caught you looking, his lips curling up at the corners. Their exchange grew heated. Fëanor sent Melkor away, but not before Melkor managed to steal a second glimpse of you. That was all you saw of him until after your capture, when you were presented to him like a prize, your arms and feet bound in iron, your clothes reduced to rags. He said nothing. All he did was sit on his lofty throne and look down on you, his eyes roaming over you in a way that made a flush creep up your throat.
You never saw him after that. Melkor kept you confined to the tower you now lived in. No one was allowed to see you save for the thralls that had to tend to you and Thuringwethil. The other Maia were allowed nowhere near you. Even the orcs were allowed nowhere near you, until now.
It is as if he does not trust the others with me.
A thrall held out their arm, to help you out of the tub. You stood still while they toweled you dry, your cheeks ablaze when they first helped you into the wisps Thuringwethil brought with her. The garments were so soft, you did not even notice them. Next came the dress, an airy confection of lace and silk that clung to your body. Then came a pair of soft slippers and finally a perfume, one that was dabbed on each of your wrists and behind your ears. The thralls wanted to style your hair, but you declined, insisting on wearing it loose.
"The master calls," insisted the orc that came to escort you to Melkor’s private chambers deep within Angband. "Come."
You followed him silently, walking through lofty corridors and vast halls, each as empty and dimly lit as the next. Your footsteps echoed all around you even as you sunk deep into your thoughts. Melkor had insisted you be brought to him alive. He had kept you in a tower, apart from the thralls and other prisoners. He had provided you with decent food and drink, even new garments. No one was allowed to harm a hair on your head. And the way he looked at you when you were presented to him, his eyes dark with hunger. The memory alone was enough to give you pause.
You shook your head. No. It could not be. Melkor desired nothing but the complete dominion of Arda. He treasured nothing but power and causing pain. That was what the songs said. That was what your father and brother said. And yet…
And yet…
He kept me safe. Made certain my needs were seen to. Did nothing to cause me harm. Were they all wrong?
The orc stopped by large wooden doors, each more than twice your height. "Let her in," he snapped at the guards. They obeyed and opened the doors for you. "Get in," he mumbled almost in politeness.
You meekly stepped over the threshold and made your way into a chamber as large as the halls you had passed. There was a soft thud. That was the sound of the doors closing behind you. You were truly trapped now.
The room you were in was nearly as silent as a tomb. And poorly lit. There were no lamps, or torches. Just a dim fire sputtering away in the hearth.
"Come closer, little elf," a deep voice called from behind you.
You gulped in fright but turned in the direction of that voice.
"Closer," it called. "Come closer."
One measured footstep followed another. You walked on hesitantly, not stopping until you reached a smaller chamber filled with the light of several candles. There was a large bed in one corner, and a small table at the far end. This room, too, was empty. You were confused now. Where did that voice come from?
"Does this please you?"
You nearly jumped out of your skin when you heard the voice behind you. You turned on your heel and found yourself looking at your captor. Melkor was studying you with a quizzical gleam in his eye. "My lord," you murmured, and gracefully dipped to your knees, remembering your courtesies.
He laughed merrily. "Thuringwethil was right. You do have nice manners."
You looked at him, shocked. She spoke to him about me. Why would she do that?
Melkor smirked and looked at you approvingly before walking over to the table. He pulled out a chair and gestured for you to join him. It confused you even more. The table was devoid of food and drink.
"The food…" you breathed out and struggled for words. Melkor was as glorious as the day you first saw him. The image of him standing there and watching you was enough to muddle your mind. "There… there is no food, my lord."
"There will be food," he replied, "for later. For now, sit."
You obeyed and made your way to the table, your skin prickling the entire time. You glanced at Melkor and found his eyes following your every move. There was something dark and primal in his eyes, something you could not quite describe.
"I will not mince words,” he said. “The reason why I summoned you," Melkor waited till you made yourself comfortable before moving to the chair opposite yours. "Is because I have a… proposition to make."
"Proposition?" You repeated, baffled. Melkor was one of the most high. There was no need for him to ask anything of anyone when he could simply take whatever, and whomever he desired, without so much as a "by your leave."
“Yes." Melkor studied you before saying, "A proposition. I wish to make you my companion. I made this offer to your brother. I was hoping he would put a word in where your father was concerned…"
The day he called on your twin. He had asked for you. You kept asking why and Fëanor refused to explain the cause. He grew angry whenever you asked. Your father finally forbade you from broaching the topic.
"But the fool refused," Melkor snorted in derision. "Now that I have you here with me, I would like to ask this of you myself. Will you be my companion and bind yourself to me?"
You swallowed and wrung your hands. His companion, he said. You did not even know what it would mean. What little you knew of intimate relations between elves came from the books you read while the others were away. "Your companion, my lord. What would I have to do? Read to you? Play the harp?"
Melkor laughed again, softly this time. "Your family has kept you ignorant of many things, I see. I do not wish you to merely read to me and amuse me with music, little elf. To put it in simpler terms, I want you to share my bed."
Your cheeks were aflame. To share his bed. You had read enough books to know what that meant. "To share pleasures with you…" you sputtered, "but if I go back, if the other elves find out what I allowed you to do to me, I will be ruined."
"The other elves will not find out.”
“Why not?”
“Because your brother is not coming for you," Melkor said simply.
"He is coming for me!" you insisted. Your eyes stung with hot tears threatening to break free. Melkor was the prince of lies. That was what they all said. You refused to believe him, thinking he was lying to you even now. "Fëanor is coming for me!"
"He is not, little elf," Melkor replied gently. "Fëanor is not coming for you. His hunger to create the silmarils has consumed him."
Despair of the acutest kind settled over you like a thick fog. The creation of hallowed jewels, each containing the light of the two trees, was all your twin talked about. He would think of nothing else until such priceless treasures rested in his hands. You knew him well enough for that.
"And your father’s thoughts have been consumed with the new family he is creating with his second wife. No one is coming for you." Melkor reached over and placed his hand on top of yours. He gave it a gentle squeeze. "Say yes, little elf. Take my hand, and every comfort imaginable will be yours. I will be yours."
You sat there, feeling alone and wretched. Your brother was not coming for you. Your father was not coming for you. Days had bled into weeks and weeks into a wholly different season, and no one had come for you. There had not even been a whiff of an elf seeking you out. Your kin had abandoned you to your fate, and the knowledge of it was too much to bear. It made you want to cry, to scream and tear out your hair, but such acts were useless. They would not set you free, and they would not make your kin search for you. You turned your attention to Melkor. He offered a life you were once accustomed to. Perhaps he was not lying. Perhaps he was telling the truth. But still, to say yes to him and take him inside of you…
"The others… your servants…" you whispered, "What will they say?"
"Nothing." Melkor smiled and spread his broad hands. "Life in Angband is different. You can be with whomever you wish, whenever you wish, and however you wish. No one will say a word in protest."
"No one?" You glanced at him, trying to get a sense of him. "Not even you?"
Melkor ground his jaw and growled. His eyes narrowed to thin slats. "You are mine, little elf. All of you belong to me."
Goosebumps rose all over your flesh when he said it. The sheer possessiveness in his tone was enough to make you forget your sense of dread and excite you to the point of actually considering his offer.
"Before I say yes," you licked your lips nervously and confessed, "I… I must tell you I have neither the… skill nor the… experience… in such matters. What little I know has come from books."
Melkor’s lips tugged at the corners. "I thought as much. But first, you must say yes."
To say yes. To take his hand and bind yourself to him for all time. You thought of your suitors, how all of them bowed their heads and walked away without a second glance the moment Fëanor denied them. Then there was Melkor, who willingly risked war and doom to bring you here. You knew what your answer would be.
"Yes."
"Come."
He rose and took you by hand, helping you out of your chair and leading you straight to his bed. You eyed the silk sheets and the soft pillows. To just lay in that bed was temptation enough. Melkor did not give you time to think of much else. He grabbed your arms and kissed you before you could say another word.
The books spoke of kisses that were sweet and soft, like feathers. Melkor’s kiss was none of that. It was all heat and wildness and hunger. His tongue glided over the seams of your mouth before pressing against your lips. You sighed helplessly and parted them for him. His mouth tasted like some dark spice you could not get enough of. Melkor smirked in triumph, his breath heating your flesh.
"How easily you yield, little elf!" he cried when you tugged on his tunic to pull him closer. "And how fortunate I am to have you in my grasp!" He laughed again and placed his hands over your shoulders, pushing you down onto the edge of the bed. "Tell me," he cooed softly, "What else did you read in these books?"
You looked at him, your eyes widening when he undid the buckle of his belt. "I…" You glanced at him, then at what he was doing. He was loosening the drawstrings of his breeches. "I have read about certain acts, but…" Your cheeks heated when he tugged it down just enough to free his cock. "But…"
"It was not enough?" Melkor asked and caressed your cheek. "Then I will guide you. Open that pretty mouth for me, little elf."
He waited, neither forcing nor demanding that you obey. A thumb glided over your lips, making you look at him. "Open little elf," he insisted gently, "Go on."
The sight of him all exposed and hard proved too tempting. You opened your mouth, eager and willing and curious, struggling to breathe while he sank his length. Melkor moved slowly and gently, his hands delving into your hair and keeping you steady. He groaned and shivered when you ran your tongue along his shaft and let curious hands skim over his thighs. His hand glided over to cup your cheek. You opened your eyes and found his fixed on yours; his mouth parted in a silent moan.
"I have been thinking about you from the first moment I laid eyes on you, little elf," he confided, whimpering when your tongue brushed over his tip. "Each of my thoughts about you have been improper."
Melkor was gentle with his instructions. "Loosen your jaw, little elf." He caressed your cheek again to catch your attention. "You clench it too much."
It was easier after that. You reached up and clutched the edges of his tunic, your mind going hazy with bliss. Everything you felt, from the hands brushing over your hair to the little ridges brushing against your lips to the soft grunts you heard, was dark and sinful. You had often wondered what such acts would be like while reading books forbidden to you, but no words could describe what you were feeling now, all feverish and wanton.
Melkor drew back and pushed you onto the sheets. You gazed at him, surprised, and more than a little disappointed. "Move further up, little elf," he chuckled, running his thumb over your swollen lips. "I want to claim you as mine."
Again, you did as he asked, even more eager this time. You moved further up the bed, trembling whenever you felt the wetness between your thighs. Melkor undid the clasps of his tunic one by one. You expected to find vast parts of him withered and deformed, as the songs said. What was slowly revealed instead was the stuff of a maiden’s dreams: a fana that was all supple muscle and devoid of flaw. His skin was the color of new steel, and his arms were large and strong.
Not once did he use that strength to force me, you mused, flushing when the mattress sank and he crawled into bed with you, boots on and all. Melkor pushed your thighs apart with his. His hands slid under your skirts.
"I…" You found yourself trembling with growing need when the flat of his palm glided over your leg. "I thought we must be undressed, my lord."
"Next time," Melkor promised. He hiked your skirts up to your waist and shoved his hand down your undergarments, ripping them apart with one tug. "For now, let me do this."
His fingers grazed your slick heat. The friction was delicious enough to make you see stars. Melkor trembled. He actually trembled. His touch was gentle, almost worshipful in its exploration. He propped himself on his free arm, just so he could watch you while he slipped a finger inside of you. It made your breath hitch when that finger slid deeper and deeper.
"My lord," you moaned without even realizing it. He dipped his head and ghosted his lips over yours.
"I am here, little elf," he purred softly, brushing his hand over your hair. He dipped his head again, nibbling your earlobe and sighing when your arms circled his back.
He had been thinking of me since he first saw me, you remembered. When was that?
"M-my lord?" Your back began to arch with each thrust of his finger. He inserted a second as carefully as the first, groaning whenever your warmth clenched around them. "W-when did you first see me?"
"When I was allowed to return to Valinor," he confessed softly against your neck. "I saw you with your father and brother near the Ring of Doom. I stayed in the shadows and watched you. Even then, I knew I had to make you mine."
The Ring of Doom. When your father was called to hear the Valar’s verdict on his appeal to remarry. That was a full century before Melkor approached your brother for you.
A hundred years was but the blink of an eye for an elf. Lesser still for a being such as him. But still...A hundred years. He had been seeking me out over a hundred years. Your hands brushed over his hair while he nibbled at your earlobe. The thought of him marking you with his teeth was enough to make your pulse scramble. You grew a little bolder.
“M-my lord?" You mumbled shyly. "W-would you c-consider marking me?"
“Bite you, little elf?"
"Y-yes. B-bite me."
Melkor raised his head, his dark eyes darkening even more. You heard a low and otherworldly growl. The sound inflamed you. "If you insist," he said, leaning in and running his tongue over the hollow of your throat. "Turn your head to the side, little elf."
He peppered the soft expanse of your throat with kisses that were bruising and almost violent. Every time his teeth grazed the curve of your neck, your nails would dig into his back. "Melkor," you sighed again. "There. Right there. Oh."
"Now everyone who sees you will know you are mine." He lifted his head and admired the canvas he had made out of your body. When he drew his fingers away, it made you feel strangely empty. "Rest your legs over my hips, little elf." Melkor hovered over you, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance. "And do not tense. Can you manage this?"
He wanted to claim your maidenhead. You looked up at him, trying to decide what to do. If he did, if you said yes to this, you could never go back. The other acts you could hide in lies, but not this. Never this. No elf would stay married to you once the truth came to light. Your family would never welcome you back. Your father would not wish to ruin the prospects for any child born to his second wife, and your brother… you shivered. You did not want to even think of what Fëanor would do to you.
Why am I fretting over what others will say, when those others have already turned their backs on me?
Melkor’s knuckles drifted over your throat. He may never ask for you again. He could send you away and carry on like nothing happened. It would would you deeply if he did. But the memories would feel so sweet.
You made up your mind. You moved your legs over his hips, the insides of your thighs rubbing up against the supple leather of his breeches. It felt strange but wonderful. "I am ready," you whispered.
“I will be gentle," Melkor promised, trembling again. His kiss was soft and so very warm. He kissed you until you were breathless, kissed you until you moaned, and your hold around him tightened. He guided his shaft inch by slow inch into your slit, stopping whenever you whimpered to give you time to breathe. His hand glided over your thigh, your belly, his words a sweet melody in a tongue you had never heard of in your life. It put your entire body at ease. He would move again, now slowly, now gently, filling you in ways you never thought possible. He stopped again, this time after claiming your maidenhood. He looked at you with questioning eyes, as if asking for permission.
"Yes," you assured him, sighing when he moaned and started to move.
He was so big, and it felt uncomfortable. And he was gentle, just like he promised. Pain and discomfort slowly gave away to a pleasure that had no name. Every time he moved, every time he found a place that sent jolts of deep ecstasy licking up your spine, you clung to him, moaning his name shamelessly. Melkor’s lips crushed yours in an all-consuming kiss. At your own urging, he went a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster, growling when his hips slapped against the insides of your thighs. It was too much. And not enough. And intoxicating all at the same time. Melkor knelt up and dragged you with him.
"Kiss me," he demanded, "and make it count."
His fingers dug into the back of your dress, his nails ripping into the fabric the moment your mouth opened over his. His tongue tasted like wine when it pressed against yours, and his hair felt like silk when it slipped around your fingers. A tension that was sweet and drugging grew in your belly.
"So-something is ha-happening," you mewled, not knowing what it meant. "I... d-do not understand…"
You may not have known, but Melkor did. "Soon, little elf," he whispered, latching onto the curve of your neck. A mixture of kisses and nips of the teeth skimmed over your throat. "A little more. Just a little more."
That soon came faster than you could have thought. Your muscles coiled and tightened, and snapped, like your body was splintering into a million different pieces. You could not think. You could even breathe. You were lost in a sea of untold rapture. You barely felt it, Melkor’s hold on you tightening even as your nails raked over his skin. You barely heard it—a deep grunt of satisfaction when he thrust one last time, and a torrent of his spend filled you.
The world had gone still, so very still. Your thoughts were still muddled when Melkor laid you on your back. You were silent while clarity slowly crept in.
Melkor had claimed all you willingly gave, and so much more. He made you experience joys you had never experienced before. And now you braced yourself, your heart gripped in agony, thinking he might prove the tales told about him true and send you away, never to seek you out after that. The books did not prepare you for the pain of his rejection. You prepared yourself anyway, your body still shaking when the featherbed sank again under his weight. Melkor threw an arm over your waist and drew you to him. Both arms encircled you now, even as he buried his face in your hair.
"I will have your possessions moved to my chambers. Rest for now, little elf." He mumbled and pressed a chaste kiss over your shoulder. "When you wake up, I will bathe you, and we will dine together. Perhaps you could even read to me."
i’d love to write some dark!azriel x reader as well as some even darker sauron and melkor x reader but i’m not sure how well it would be received. now don’t get me wrong i will not be writing g0re, r4pe (altho consent could be quite dubious with sauron and melkor for obvious reasons), forced pregnancy, or anything extreme. i am a survivor of SA so will ensure things are as least triggering as possible
but i really enjoyed writing dark!azriel in the “carving their name into you” prompt and would like to do more.
please reply or send in an ask with your thoughts on this :)
