`:*:´

Featuring one Maia who would very much prefer to get back to being useful, thank you.

Mairon is not particularly good at receiving pleasure, at accepting affection. Which is strange, because Mairon is good at everything. (At this thought, he inwardly scoffs.)

But this new, peculiar whim of Melkor’s throws him entirely off balance.

Why would he lay Mairon down upon the bed, slowly undress him, deny him even the chance to touch Melkor — when Mairon only means to help, to speed up the process? Why would he keep pushing Maia’s hands away, ordering him to grip the headboard and remain still?

Mairon watches in bewilderment, uncertain what to expect.

It is a foolish idea. Melkor’s hands still ache — always, always will — from the Silmarils, and so the preparation has always been Mairon’s responsibility. A duty he performed very, very willingly.

But the Vala kisses him with agonizing slowness, traces his tongue along Mairon’s neck, lingers over the chest — where fiery heart pounds so desperately beneath his lips. Black fingers drift along the lines of Maia’s sides — caresses ghostly, light, insufficient. Gradually slipping lower.

Tension gathers low in Mairon’s stomach, winding itself into a sweet, tight knot.

He feels awkward. Almost embarrassed. He finds himself counting the minutes wasted on him — minutes that surely bring Melkor no pleasure whatsoever.

He tenses, nearly bucking like a wild stallion when Melkor’s hands stroke his thighs with absurd tenderness, when the kisses against his stomach grow unbearably slow, teasing, tormenting.

Then the Vala draws back. He simply looks at Mairon, and Mairon is biting his lip, breathing heavily — flushed and thoroughly marked.

Only then does Melkor lean over him again, and the wet heat of his mouth envelops Mairon’s flesh. But before that, the Dark Lord finally deigns to give his servant an order. An order to do nothing, nothing at all.

balls on your walls

good afternoon, eldarfuckers, i had someone request to buy a few prints of my art and the fancy printing shop i used only did orders in ‘bulk’, so i now have 2 extra copies of each of these going spare. So as a one-off, i’ve whacked them up on HERE if any of you were keen on elven breasts giclee-printed in museum-quality inks, sized 8x12 inches on heavyweight Hahnemühle German Etching Paper.

T-D, L-R: Elwing, Nerdanel, Finrod, Eönwë, Elrond + Elros, Eönwë again, and Bangs!Elrond. There’s also a classical piece of Melian lounging with her Maiar Milkers out, but I can’t post it here obviously, plus a sweetish Celrond.

Please appreciate Mercutio getting head pats 🥺

--

(Children's song, to be sung at the time of the Dagor Bragollach)

@jrrt-native-languages-fest

Maikäfer, flieg! Der Vater ist im Krieg, Die Mutter ist in Beleriand; Beleriand ist abgebrannt. Maikäfer, flieg!

Maikäfer, flieg! Dein Häuschen brennt. Dein Mütterchen flennt. Maikäfer, flieg!

This is an adaptation of a traditional and very well-known German children's song that already has versions in which place names get substituted for each other. I have only substituted "Beleriand" in the first stanza here to adapt it for Middle-earth.

You could also make a version of it for a war in Gondor, if you allow for it to be sung in Rohan and substitute the name "Stoningland", which was current in Rohan.

WIP Lúthien & Huan (2023) | Lúthien Concepts (2021)

A 2023 update on an old draft of the Princess of Doriath and the Hound of Valinor in search of Beren. Also some older concepts of Lúthien as well.

It's been like a decade since I was super active in the Simarillion fandom (particularly here on tumblr), but I hope to create more art for it again.