#morgoth x reader

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.

♡ 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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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏.

ʚ He never thought that his efforts to finish what his master, the former dark lord, had started would cost him his very heart. Perhaps he would have rathered that. His heart being ripped from his chest rather than the sight of your pupils dissipating and your eyes dulling, the scream that wrenched from your lungs and the way your body collapsed to the stone floor 

ʚ Mairon was well aware that the power required to form the one ring would be immense and he was willing to sacrifice everything to ensure its creation. What he didn’t know was the one ring would not only drain him of his power — but yours as well. And unfortunately, you were not as powerful of a maia as he was. 

ʚ Whilst he forged the final touches and encrypted those cursed phrases along its underside, he ignored your little peeps and soft calls of his name. When you told him that you had an easy feeling. In fact, he went as far as to tell you that you were simply overreacting 

ʚ But it was only when he finally uttered the spell that would pour his power out into the ring that he realised the horrifying truth — your strength, the little power that remained within you would be snatched up as well. Despite his weakened state and trembling knees he tries to push himself to you, only just managing to get his arms around you when your legs had given out 

ʚ Mairon was frantic, clinging to your quickly disappearing warmth as he watched the life drain from your eyes. He was desperate, muttering a horrified ‘no’ over and over again as he watched your life be taken by that damned ring. Even when you stared up at him with such soulless eyes, he could not bring himself to accept what he had done 

ʚ “Y/N, no, please — please.’’ 

ʚ Had he truly lost you too? The last being that he had any sort of connection to? The last person who he felt anything for?

ʚ Mairon could do nothing but hunch over your form that day with a harrowing cry that tore through each and every crevice of Orodruin. He cradled you in his arms for hours, lips against your hair and promising that he would ensure your death was not in vain. Perhaps that’s what further drove him to accomplish his goal

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓.

ʚ It was a fit of rage. One he couldn’t quite overcome. But when he finally pulled himself from the storm of rage that clouded his eyes and he now witnessed a familiar crimson on his palms — his claws. Not to mention the look of utter horror on your face before you fell into him, a hole torn through your clothing just as one had been ripped through your very chest. He knew that there was no going back 

ʚ Melkor always considered himself to be slow to anger. While he does seem to have quite the temper, the majority of the time it is quite the act. He pretends to exude anger so that he frightens those before him. But to genuinely drive the dark lord to anger is a fool’s ploy. Nor has he ever genuinely been angry at you. Perhaps irritated or possessive, but never rageful towards you. And even the incident of your death was not brought on due to the anger he held for you

ʚ It was during the war of wrath, towards the end of it. Melkor was well aware that his army outside the iron barriers of Angband was quickly depleting, that his defeat was nigh. What wasn’t helping his already gruelling mood was your worry. Of course, you were anxious. Should the Valinor’s Host succeed you knew that your lover would be dragged off and flung into the void. There would be no more trials, no more appeals, he would be gone forever. Which is the very reason you attempted to coax him into admitting defeat, in hopes that the valar would take mercy on him should he show remorse for his actions 

ʚ It seems that it was all it took for him to lose it and before you knew it a cry tore from your throat, just as his clawed hand tore through your chest and impaled your heart. You looked up to see the storm in his eyes and the look of hatred on his face. You couldn’t even process what it was that he shouted at you, only that you would die here. With not so much as a gentle embrace but rather a look of utter hostility

ʚ When Melkor eventually came to, he foolishly ripped his hand back out in shock — causing blood to gush from your wound further as you fell forward onto him. He was in shock, to say the least, as he held you. The music stopped, the dissonant tune that was associated with his presence. Everything went silent, deafening. He could say no words. He could shed no tears. Instead, he merely felt your warmth fade and listen to the beat of your wounded heart come to a standstill 

ʚ When the host tore through Angband, all they found was Melkor on his throne. Without his crown, without the prideful stature, he wore like a medal. All they found was a broken vala clinging onto the lifeless body of his beloved.

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Melkor felt none of it, saw none of it, not the chill in the air or the pale, silvery light that lit up the room.  

"Come now, precious, I thought this was what you wanted?" he laughed—a deep, loud laugh that echoed across the room. His eyes, velvety black to the very center, grew even darker as lust and triumph shone on his face.

You struggled, unable to move as your hands were bound above your head with soft, silken scarves that were tied to the bedposts. "M-my l-lord," you whined amongst the jumbled silk sheets, breathless after being brought back from the edge yet again. "No m-more. Please."

Melkor grinned wickedly before settling between your legs once more. He relished the taste of you, subtle and sweet on his tongue. He lifted his eyes and watched you—how your eyes grew glassy with the tears that had gathered at the corners. He loved it—loved seeing your pretty tears and your defenses shatter and crumble under his touch. "No more?" he growled, his teeth nipping at the insides of your thighs. "Precious, I am just getting started."

You could only whimper helplessly when he dove into your heat, his slate-gray arm pinning you down to the bed. Dizzy and weak, you could only arch your back while his lips tugged greedily, as if starving for the taste of you. You struggled for purchase against the soft bed, your nails nearly tearing into the fabric of your bindings while he kept an easy pace, grunting softly against your clit. 

And you had brought it on yourself by distracting him when he had been busy in his little council room, nipping at his earlobe, playing with his hair, unclasping his tunic so you could run your hands down his bare chest. Melkor warned you and told you to stop. You teased and toyed with him instead; you pushed his buttons, and now you find yourself in his bed, completely at his mercy.

But you see, Melkor was without mercy. His kisses touched you everywhere but your mouth, leaving your lips cold and starving. And his touch? His touch was harsh, rough, and greedy; his palms leaving reddened bruises along your thighs. And it was agonizing, so brutally agonizing, how he would repeatedly take you to the brink and pull back, leaving you frustrated and teary-eyed. He always found great satisfaction in that, the little streaks that would stain your cheeks. You tried to fight it, to deny him such a sight this time, but with each harsh lick, you found yourself failing miserably.

"Well, well, well," Melkor looked up and grunted hoarsely, his lips curling into a wolfish grin when your eyes glinted with unshed tears. "Tearing up for me already? Oh, precious, how weak and pathetic you are right now."

He laughed again when you mewled miserably from the loss of contact. And he was right—you felt so weak right now, so hungry for him, you could not help yourself. "Please, my lord," you cried in frustration when he dipped his head, burying his tongue deep between your thighs. "P-please I cannot..."

The spank that reddened your thigh shocked you into meek silence, and the first of your tears broke free. Melkor looked up once more, his eyes glinting with deep satisfaction. "Such an obedient little slut you are, silencing your tongue so quickly for me. And what is this I see?" He looked over at the little streaks slowly going down your cheeks. Oh, how he moaned when he saw those tears of yours. Unable to resist, he kissed his way back up, his lips and teeth leaving little red patches to bloom in their wake.

And how your heart fluttered when you heard his ragged breathing and felt his chest heaving heavily against yours. When you forced your eyes open, you found his blazing fiercely, as if lit by the fires of a furnace. Trembling beneath him now, you couldn't help but sigh desperately when a callused thumb brushed up against the little drops that had gathered at the corners of your eyes. "Delicious," He said in a voice that grown rough and deep, his lips constantly seeking the little beads that were yours tears, tasting them, savouring them, before creeping back to your thighs again. 

This time you didn't whine, didn't put up even a hint of protest. That pleased Melkor no end. "Keep quiet, my darling slut, and I will take good care of you."

Oh, how he took good care of you. And this time, the denials of your pleasure only grew sweeter and sweeter. Melkor was savage and relentless, his hands gripping your thighs firmly, his tongue a delightful torment. You felt yourself floating on a high, close to reaching your peak, and your body was close to shattering. Then, when your muscles coiled, when you reached the point of no return, Melkor pulled away again, growling fiercely when you welcomed this torment without protest. When he saw you like that, bound and submissive to him, a dark need flashed through his veins, one that made him lose all sense of control. He swept you along, moving between your thighs and lifting your hips, sinking his cock into your wet cunt without warning. All he craved was to have you writhing and crying out for him. 

And he got exactly what he desired. Your gasp at that first jolt, the way you sobbed his name when he plunged into you. It hurt, oh, how it hurt. And how you felt him inside you, hot and thick and pulsing, drilling into you and filling you completely. And you loved it—the pleasure and the pain that flooded you again and again when your walls stretched around his cock. "Pl-please my lord!" you cried shamelessly, hoping and praying he wouldn't stop this time. "Don't stop my lord!"

Melkor chuckled at your needy pleas. "I should stop. Punish you more. Tempting me the way you did."

"N-no m-more," a moan rolled past your lips, and your body jolted when your thigh stung beneath his roughened palm again. 

"Distracting me," Melkor hissed, his pace relentless now, the sounds of his hips slapping the insides of your thighs, the subtle squelching sound of his cock sinking into your throbbing cunt, and the bed creaking softly beneath the two of you filling the air. "Made it hard for me to concentrate."

"I'm s-sorry m-my l-lord," you whimpered when he knelt up and grabbed onto your hips, having his way with you like you were just a toy in his large hands. "I'm so sorry."

"You should be sorry, you pathetic little slut. But don't worry, I will not deny you now."

Melkor lost himself in you. Sensation after heated sensation washed over him, the sounds of your cries intoxicating him, the sensation of your walls fluttering around his cock threatening to drown him. Melkor forced his eyes open, aching to see the myriad of expressions flash over your face as he took you over the cliff. It was worth it, seeing your eyes flutter, your mouth parting as you moaned, and how your back arched every time he sunk his cock into your heat. He dared not take his eyes off you; he could not take his eyes off you, and he felt it, oh, how he felt it. Your walls contracting around him, milking his cock, pulling him in deeper as your orgasm ripped through you. It was like a drug to him, the sounds you made, all deep and guttural and throaty, the way your back arched, how your eyes nearly rolled back while you cried out in ecstasy. It undid him, made him surrender. And surrender he did, moaning long and deep as he spilled his seed inside you.

The room quitened and the air seemed to still. Nothing could be heard save for the sound of ragged breathing, of sheets rustling beneath. And the room grew cold. You feel it now, seeping into your bones. Your breath was shallow and laboured, struggling to reach an even keel. Your body still shook and you felt him still buried in you, his hands now gently rubbing at your bruised and sore hips as he struggled to keep himself up, to stop himself from collapsing on top of you.

"Precious," Melkor whispered and pulled out of you so he could seek your lips. You could taste it—the essence of you—in his kiss, on his tongue. He took great care to prop himself up on one elbow, to avoid crushing you with his weight. And his kiss was deep and drugging, lulling you into a sense of peace, his free hand gently skimming its way over your trembling body, as if to soothe.

"My lord," you murmured back, your soft sighs pouring into his mouth. Melkor reached up and loosened the scarfs around your wrists, freeing them, allowing your hands to roam all over him. Your wrists were sore but you made good use of your freedom, running your hands over his large thighs, his broad back, burying them in his inky black hair. His body was so warm and smelled subtly of smoke from the furnace, something you couldn’t get enough of.  And he kept kissing you, soft and tender now, whispering sweet little nothings of much he loved it, how good you were, how well you took him. His praise was just as wonderful as was his admonishment, and you lapped it all up, always eager for more. 

Alas, you had grown tired, so very tired. Melkor felt it, in the slackening of your touch, in the softening of your limbs. When you stifled a yawn, he moved to his side and pulled up the pelts. "Come precious,” he said, throwing his arms around you. “You need your rest."