#gothmog smut

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Bejeweled Collar

Day 3 Prompts: Symbols | Collars and Necklaces

For: @feast-of-horns

Rating: M

Pairing: Pre-defection! Gothmog (Calinár)/Eönwë

Themes: Smut / NSFT

Warnings: Kissing | Penetrative/Anal sex | Sex in a public/unusual location

Wordcount: 1.3K words

Summary: Gothmog (Calinár in this fic) has a special gift made for someone very dear to him

Minors DNI | 18+

A/n: Etymology for Pre-defection Gothmog's name Calinár (bright flame) - Calima (Bright/Luminous) and nár (fire)

This is also available on AO3

Aulë held a jewel to the light. “This one?”

“Aye.” Calinár came near and admired the precious stone that the great smith held in his hand. Aulë turned it first one way, then the other way. The light that passed through it caused a beautiful waterfall of blues and greens to appear on the walls. “This is perfect, my lord. Are there more of these?” 

“Many and more.” Aulë called out a command, and one of his attendants came forth bearing a large basket. She spilled its contents onto the table, and a brilliant halo of blue and green formed around the jewels that had fallen onto each other in a great pile. “How should they be used, Lord Calinár?” 

“In this.” Calinár gestured to the tightly rolled parchment that lay between them. Aulë took it into his hands and broke the seal. 

“Beautiful,” he murmured appreciatively after unrolling it. “Did you draw this yourself?”

“Yes. Can it be crafted?” 

“Tis a delicate confection, to be sure, but yes, it can be done. And what is this? Is this a chain that I see?” 

“A tether, my lord. Not a chain.” The Maia flushed. His cheeks burned when he remembered a tether hung from the center of the collar he drew. It was how he envisioned it, and he hoped the others were not close enough to hear. "It… it is not meant for what you may think it is.”     

“Oho.” Aulë flashed a rare, wicked smile. He understood well enough what the young Maia desired. “I see. Well, you do not have to explain yourself to me, my lord, but you do have to answer one question. Should I set these jewels in steel or silver?” 

“No to both.” Calinár took back the parchment and regarded his drawing once again. Besides the tether, delicate feathers and twisting horns adorned the base of a high collar rich in jewels. “The recipient of this gift deserves nothing less than the finest gold. And when this is delivered, they must not know that it was I who asked for it to be made for them.”

“A surprise, then!” The smith’s smile grew even more. “Consider it done! And tell me if you desire to see how it is made.”

“I would like that very much, my lord.”

The smith was exceedingly thoughtful, commanding the others to leave the forge while he continued with his task. He was also exceedingly patient, answering the many questions his new patron had. He even allowed him to aid him whenever it was possible for him to do so.

“There is a smith in you, Lord Calinár,” he declared while they affixed jewels to the collar. Next, they fastened feathers and horns to the collar. Lastly came the tether. A thin strip of gilded leather, it was secured to the center of the collar with a gold loop. “Perhaps you should come here and serve me for a while. There is so much for you to learn, so much I could teach you.”

Calinár considered his offer. The Great Forge almost felt like a second home, and the peace that came with toiling with one’s hands was uncommonly tempting. Nevertheless, he decided against it. He found that he preferred the feel of maces and broad swords in his hand, not a smith’s tools.

“Tis a warrior’s life for me, my lord,” he said. “But I thank you all the same.”

The bejeweled collar was carefully placed within an ornate chest lined with thick velvet after Calinár admired it one last time. Blue and green feathers symbolized the receiver’s wings while the blue and green horns symbolized the impending feast and the chase that would follow. As for the tether…

The tether will serve its purpose when the time is right, he thought. Until then, I can only hope that he finds no reason to reject my gift.

To his amazement, he found that the receiver of his gift wore it with great pride. The wearer flushed whenever another reveler wished to admire it, and if he knew the identity of the lord who sent it, he took care not to show that he did. And that tether came to good use, just as Calinár thought it would, for it was he who chased the Elder King’s Herald, and it was he who caught him, as he always did. And Eönwë readily surrendered to his embraces, as he was wont to do.

“Twas you who made this for me, yes?”

Calinár opened his eyes. Eönwë was under him, his hands clutching desperately at his back, his body writhing and heaving over a soft bed of leaves. His wings had wrapped themselves around him, shielding them both, to some extent, from prying eyes. Such a precaution was not needed; the others were too occupied with their own diversions.

“Aye.” Calinár hoisted himself to his knees, taking Eönwë with him. He pulled their bodies together, his countenance caught between concentration and pleasure. Someone moaned nearby. Someone else laughed softly and cooed their praise. Another called out and invited others to join them. “Does it displease you, little bird?”

“No.” Eönwë returned and playfully bit down on Calinár’s shoulder. The arms around his lower back tightened, making him moan. “I was thinking of wearing it more often.”

“Perhaps you should wear only that whenever we couple.” Calinár groaned softly when teeth marred his flesh a second time. “Did I hurt you when pulled on that tether?”

“You did not.” Eönwë bent down and kissed him. He made a strangled noise at the back of his throat when he moved his hips to meet his companion’s thrusts, and heady ecstasy flared through him. “I liked it,” he gasped.

“Tis a good thing, then.” Calinár halted briefly, breathing in the dark scents that clung to his companion’s hair and the honey lingering on his skin. His name came out in a whisper thick with desire. It enticed him to move once again. “A very good thing.” 

No further words were said. Herald and warrior found themselves lost in their own world, seeing, hearing, and feeling no other. The other revelers did not exist. The trees and the mist around them did not exist. Calinár’s release came first. It began as a little spark that smoldered and grew until it felt like an inferno had set him ablaze, searing him with every wild sensation he could have ever experienced in a single perfect moment that seemed to stretch on forever. He lost all sense of himself. He could not think; he could not breathe. All he could do was feel the passions that rose around him in wild, rippling flames that were as welcomed as the feathers rustling against his skin. Warmth spilled out of him, and then warmth spurted against him when he let go of his companion’s back and took him to hand. So lost was he in his own bliss that he barely felt the nails that dug into his sides, and he barely heard the deep, satisfying grunts spilling into the cool air. He shuddered one final time, and then he went still.

No poet could do justice to all that I feel at this moment, he thought when a sweet, sweet silence settled between them, one that was deeper than the hush creeping through the forest. Calinár neither spoke nor moved. He was content to stay as he was, on his knees and locked within the welcomed clasp of his lover’s body.

“Calinár.” A hushed, husky voice cut through the haze engulfing his every thought and called him back to where he was. “Calinár. Return to me, beloved.”

Calinár compelled himself to open his eyes. He found himself in the forests of Oromë once again; the starlit sky was above him and the leaf-covered earth was beneath him. He pressed his brow against his companion’s and savored the warm breath that mingled sweetly with his own.

“I am here, little bird,” he replied. “Are you well?” 

“I am,” Eönwë said when he was finally able to speak. “Can we stay here a little longer?”

There was no hurry to go back; the feast was far from over. “We can stay for as long as you desire, little bird,” Calinár promised.

tags @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

#feastofhorns #feastofhorns2024 #gothmog #pre-defection! gothmog #gothmog x eönwë #eönwë #gothmog smut #eönwë smut #almaren days #the silm #the silmarillion #the silm fanfiction

[cilil]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒾𝓇𝓈

Characters: Mairon, Gothmog, Eönwë, Tilion & Ossë; reader's gender is unspecified - all up to your imagination~

Featuring: 2nd person POV, vampire!Mairon, werewolf!Mairon, monsterfucking, Balrog anatomy, avian Ainu, merman, some Dom/sub dynamics, bit of predator/prey and other kinks, penetrative sex, intercrural sex, dirty talk

Warnings: Possessive themes, smut, tiny bit of degradation branding/burn marks, blood drinking/vampirism, mentions of impact play (whipping, spanking), swords/blades, bit of blood, biting, scratching

AN: Thanks to everyone who voted on my poll (back in the day). Sorry for the delay and here are your top choices plus our favorite birdy boy - hope you enjoy!

Mairon

𓂀 Once your heart is his, Mairon makes sure to live up to his reputation as the Lord of Gifts and the Lord of the Rings. Whether it is to seal a bond of marriage, asking for your hand or a promise of love and courtship, he crafts a beautiful ring just for you - showing everyone that you are now his and possibly also enhancing said ring with a few spells so he can watch over you.

𓂀 Yet gold is not the only way for him to mark your body; he also loves to use his fire to ensure neither you nor anyone else will ever forget where you belong. Mairon's preferred symbol to draw on your skin is The Eye, and he loves to place it right on your neck or chest so he can see it every time he takes you.

𓂀 His love and desire for you take many forms, as does he; when in the shape of a vampire, he enjoys biting you and drinking your blood while he makes love to you, strengthening the bond between you. He may sing to you to keep you calm while he feeds, and his song causes the wound and the vein he drank from to appear golden for a time until it slowly fades. Mairon expects you to wear those marks with pride and not cover them up.

𓂀 Whenever his form has more wolfish attributes, he also likes leaving bite marks, but his favorite feature is his knot. He loves how it swells inside you and stretches you out while he breeds you and how it keeps his seed inside until he decides he's done with you for the night.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Do you think you can take it?" 

Mairon slams into you with the full strength of his fána, making sure you can feel every inch of his hot, hard cock stretching you out without mercy. 

"Do you think you can take my knot, my precious little slut?" 

You barely manage to nod before a searing hot sensation makes you cry out in pain and pleasure alike. The eye symbol, proudly adorning your chest, glows in response to his words, like on the day when you were first marked by his hand. 

Satisfied with your obedience, Mairon stops moving and allows his seed to fill you. His knot swells proudly, binding you to him, and you try to muffle another scream — only for him to deter you with a quick slap on your thigh. 

"No," he says firmly, "let me hear it. I want to hear how much you love this, and you will not deny me."

Gothmog

☄ Contrary to popular belief, Gothmog can be affectionate and isn't afraid to show it. He likes to keep you close in public and holds you like a pretty little doll, making it clear to everyone that you belong to him and no one else may come close to you, let alone touch you. Even when he isn't around, the scent of fire and heat of his touch seems to surround you everywhere you go.

☄ Yet make no mistake: The Lord of Balrogs is incredibly strong and likes it rough. He may use his claws and fangs to as part of passionate love making and leave bite and scratch marks in strategic spots to ensure that everyone knows he has claimed you. Carry your marks with pride: To Balrogs, they are a symbol of strength and a sign that you belong.

☄ Gothmog's favorite way to claim and mark you, however, is fire - but he won't use his whip unless you ask him to. Instead, he may opt to simply use his hands to leave a nice and warm hand print on your skin; the same applies to any sort of impact play where he uses his hands instead of any tools. The touch of a Balrog leaves a lingering feeling of either cosy warmth or searing heat, and which one it will be is his choice to make.

☄ Aside from horns that you can hold on to, Gothmog also has a tail - and yes, he can and will use it. Not only is it a convenient as an additional limb to wrap around you and pull you close when his hands and arms are occupied and to keep others away from you, but he can also use it to fuck you if he so chooses, be it to tease you or for double penetration. He loves to test your limits.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"What a pretty little thing you are." Gothmog pats your head with his large hand while he continues to effortlessly bounce you on his lap as if you weigh nothing. 

You would have cried out from the intensity of his massive cock thrusting in and out of you rapidly, but all you manage is a muffled moan; your mouth is currently occupied by the tip of his tail. 

"We don't need the entire fortress to hear you," Gothmog said beforehand, and you agreed. 

He is — for his standards — gentle with you, but you also know that there isn't much mercy to be had in Angband. You consider yourself lucky to be with him. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Gothmog rakes the claws of his free hand down your back and chuckles when he feels your throat vibrate with muted screams. 

"And so good for me too," he adds to his previous statement. "Keep taking me so nicely and I might even let you rest after this round."

Eönwë

⚔ As sweet and affectionate as Eönwë is with you in private, he's not exactly fond of others trying to compete, particularly during avian mating season. He stays with you whenever he can, guarding you like a precious treasure, and watches the people who approach you, both when's nearby and when he's somewhere else. Should another suitor be so foolish as to approach you anyway, they will soon notice a very irate Maia glaring at them and posturing aggressively, every single feather fluffed up.

⚔ While you two are still courting and not quite ready for marriage yet, Eönwë presents you with a lovely promise bracelet or anklet (your choice), made of his favorite materials that he gathered himself. Nothing makes him happier than seeing you wear it, and conveniently enough it also serves as a reminder to other suitors that you are very much taken - by the chief of the Maiar, no less.

⚔ When Eönwë makes love to you, he can be gentle, but he can also be feral. Sometimes his desire simply overwhelms him. Depending on his current form, he has talons on his hands and will make use of them to mark you, even drawing ancient patterns on you to show everyone who claimed you. You can also expect to find yourself covered in love bites, with his favorite area being your neck.

⚔ If you enjoy rough sex and agree to try out some more "extreme" kinks, Eönwë would love to make use of his sword - the song of steel and battle is ingrained in his very being, after all. As much as the rational part of him hates to see you hurt, the feral part of him is fascinated by the way you shiver when a cold blade is pressed against you or when it leaves beautiful lines of red on your skin and draws a few droplets of blood.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cold steel bites into your skin as the blade touches your throat, but you only have eyes for Eönwë. He's breathing heavily, and his fána glows with barely contained lust. 

"I want you," he breathes. 

You spread your legs in silent invitation. Surely he must know that you are already his; even if you decided to fight back now, which is the last thing on your mind, he would be too strong for you. 

"Exactly like this," Eönwë says then, and you understand. He wants to take you with his sword at your throat, utterly at his mercy, and your skin prickles with excitement. 

The prospect of submitting to the greatest warrior of the Maiar so completely is thrilling. 

Eönwë enters you with one swift thrust, his free hand reaching for your hip. You make sure not to move, as you know he wants from you, and welcome him inside. The blade presses against your skin, but only lightly; his hold is steady, his posture impeccable, no blood is drawn. 

You surrender. 

Tilion

☽ Tilion loves antlers, his pride and joy when it comes to his fána, and wants to share that with you. If you yourself are an Ainu and grow your own pair, he will paint them silver with moonlight. If not, he will gladly hunt beasts of your choosing for you to claim their horns or antlers as a prize for you to wear and paint them as well. Nothing makes him more proud than everyone seeing that you belong to him.

☽ In order to make sure you are always safe, even when he isn't around, Tilion also crafts protective moon charms, infused with the light of Telperion's fruit. These are designed to keep creatures of darkness away, fearing his wrath, and may also glow to alert you to nearby danger. Not least of all they come with the additional benefit of letting everyone know that Tilion is only ever one call away.

☽ He loves to be intimate with you whenever he can, worshiping your body to his heart's content. Like his own hunt and war paint, Tilion enjoys painting your skin with matching patterns. These are expressions of love and companionship, glowing hymns to your beauty, but also marks of ownership and desire.

☽ For as hopelessly romantic as Tilion is, never forget that he's also a hunter. When lust overwhelms him, he is a passionate and wild lover, and sex with him can get rough. He enjoys chasing you, catching you and holding you down while he takes you, as well as leaving bite marks all over your body. Rest assured though that he will take good care of you after and do anything to ensure that you're comfortable and at ease.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"You are too beautiful for your own good," Tilion sighs, smiling as he kisses you on the lips. 

You are both naked, lying together on a bed of moss in the woods of Oromë, and panting heavily after a wild and lengthy chase. Of course your lover has caught you in the end and carried you to a comfortable hidden spot to enjoy his prey. 

Tilion trails his hand down your chest, your stomach, your lower body, and you spread your legs in anticipation. He wants you, you can see it; his midnight blue eyes darken with desire. 

"There you go, little deer," whispers gentle praise against your lips before pushing two fingers inside of you. "You will be all nice and wet for me soon, won't you?" 

You nod. Of course you will be; how could you not when you are with your beloved hunter, chasing your love and your pleasure with no less determination and ferocity than he chases his prey. 

Ossë

⚡︎ Ossë is a capricious and jealous lover. His feelings for you are strong and passionate, and he will fight anyone who wishes you ill - or comes closer than he would like. The storms he conjures are mighty, and even if Ulmo and Uinen stop him from giving in to his jealousy, Ossë is also a mischievous Maia who will find other ways to mess with those who have wronged you or him.

⚡︎ You will find yourself getting showered with gifts from him, various trinkets that he picks up in the oceans of Arda: Pearls, seashells, items and parts from sunken ships, bones, teeth and also all sorts of fish and sea creatures he caught for you. Ossë delights in swimming, diving and hunting to his heart's content, but most importantly coming home to you with something new to show you.

⚡︎ Just like he himself is wild and fierce, so is intimacy with him. You will find yourself completely soaked, regardless of whether he takes you in the water (as he prefers) or outside, and covered in bite and scratch marks; Ossë simply can't resist taking a bite out of something as beautiful as you are. He also loves the thought that everyone can tell what you two have done afterwards.

⚡︎ Ossë enjoys being on top of you, all around you and inside you, having his tail wrapped tightly around you. After he's done making love to you, he likes carrying you around like a precious little pearl and singing to you in ancient tongues until you fall asleep. You may also notice that, whenever you've been with him, the scent of seawater sticks with you for days.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

The sand feels warm against your skin, but Ossë's form is cool and smooth. He rolls over so he's lying on top of you, his tail wrapping around your legs, and flashes you a toothy grin, like a hungry sea monster about to devour its unfortunate prey. 

"Should I take you here, marilla? Or should I drag you to the bottom of the ocean first?" he teases. 

Clawed, webbed fingers hold onto you possessively, and Ossë wastes no time nibbling on the side of your neck as you writhe underneath him. 

"Please have mercy, o lord of storms," you gasp, entertaining his little game to entice him to go on. 

You know your words had the intended effect when you feel something hard pressing against your thigh. 

"Perhaps I will," Ossë muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

His tail keeps its grip on your legs, and he pushes his now-exposed cock between your thighs to rut against you.

"We will even start slowly," he whispers, "but worry not. You shall feel my full strength soon enough."

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

marilla (Quenya) - pearl

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

#headcanons #imagines #silmarillion headcanons #silmarillion imagine #x reader #silmarillion x reader #maiar x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #2nd person pov #mairon #sauron #gothmog #eonwe #eönwë #tilion #osse #ossë #mairon x reader #gothmog x reader #eonwe x reader #tilion x reader #osse x reader #maiar #ainur #silm smut #minors dni #possessive behavior #tw possessiveness #cílil writes

[silmsmutweek]

ROUND-UP: AINUR

All creations are Mature or Explicit unless marked as *sfw. Please see work tags for warnings.

Arien/Eönwë Day 6 by @maironite

Eönwë/Gothmog Intercrural sex and wings by @i-did-not-mean-to

Eönwë/Ilmarë/Manwë Day 4 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

Eönwë/Manwë/Varda Sublime Companionship by @cilil

Estë/Irmo Dream me awake by @cilil

Gothmog/Morgoth Day 1 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

Makar/Meássë Day 3 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

Manwë/Ulmo/Varda Sharing is Caring by @cilil

Morgoth/Sauron Dirty talk and lingerie by @i-did-not-mean-to Day 4/5 by @maironite A Dragon's Favourite Treasure by @cilil

Morgoth/Tulkas Forced Favours by cilil

Morgoth/Varda Incinerate by @cliffdivingsblog Art by @marimosalad

Ossë/Uinen Day 7 by @maironite

Uinen/Varda Day 7 by @a-world-of-whimsy-5

#round-up #silmarillion smut #silm smut #ainur #valar #maiar #morgoth #sauron #manwe #varda #eonwe #arien #gothmog #ilmare #ulmo #tulkas #osse #uinen

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ There was no use in fighting this; and he had long since found out that it could feel quite nice if he didn't. ❞

⊱ Prompt: Captivity, master/slave ⊱ Pairing: Gothmog x Eönwë ⊱ Synopsis: [Valinor falls AU - in which Melkor's forces manage to conquer Valinor and enslave its inhabitants] Eönwë has been given to Gothmog as his pet and pleasure slave. To his horror, he finds that he enjoys his new role more than he should. ⊱ Featuring: Leash/collar, "pet training", fingering, rimming ⊱ Warnings: Dub-con, sexual slavery, sexual content; also the prompts are their own warning

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Finally starting @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December. This one's... fairly mild compared to other things on my list, so stay tuned for that. Suffice it to say: This AU will be featured several times. Enjoy!

He shouldn't enjoy this. 

He was supposed to resist, to fight until his last breath. 

And yet – 

Eönwë let out a quiet gasp when a tug on his leash demanded his attention and a claw was swiftly hooked underneath his collar to hold him in place. 

"You're so beautiful," Gothmog praised and leaned closer to nuzzle his hair. 

A few small agitated wing flaps was all Eönwë could do to resist, but it made no difference. If anything it delighted his captor to watch his desperate attempts at salvaging his dignity, like one would enjoy watching a pet pigeon frolicking around in its cage. 

"And you have such pretty wings too." Claws carded through his feathers and Eönwë found himself unwittingly making tiny noises of delight. It wasn't supposed to feel good... but he had been so alone for many ages. As sweet as freedom had tasted and as sorely as he missed it now, it hadn't sated his desperate longing to be touched. 

"Good bird." Gothmog pulled him onto his lap and wrapped one arm around him possessively, the leash firmly in his grasp. His other hand let go of the collar to continue petting his most prized prisoner. 

Eönwë didn't know what to think or feel whenever he was forced to let himself be touched like this. Surely someone like him who was only skilled in the art of war and woefully unfit for seduction couldn't be the kind of courtesan his new master desired, yet somehow he seemed steadfast in his decision to keep him for that purpose. The prospect had frightened him more than any sort of punishment or torture – but to his shock and surprise Gothmog had been strangely gentle. Good even. 

Whereas their encounters were far from what Eönwë had come to know as proper courtship, he had been neither beaten nor assaulted. Instead, he had been made to wear skimpy clothing, engage in cuddling and preening sessions with his captor, sleep in his bed and simply be around him. He was given treats and allowed to bathe, though Gothmog often insisted on watching him. It was strange and uncomfortable, but deep down Eönwë also found himself oddly intrigued by the prospect of being so openly and unabashedly desired by someone else; he couldn't fully indulge in the fantasy, fearing that kindness could turn into violence at any moment, and still he sometimes caught himself yearning. 

If only this could have happened differently. If only he wasn't just a pet. 

Rough, scaly skin brushed against his lips, and Eönwë parted them obediently, noticing that Gothmog had retracted his claws. Another small kindness. 

"You know what to do."

He did. It wasn't the first time they had done this, and while he didn't fear pain, he was relieved that he would receive some preparation for whatever was to come – especially when the thin, short robes he was wearing were pulled up and his legs were spread. Eönwë had expected to struggle, fight and bleed, and even though it would ease his feelings of guilt, he was glad that he didn't have to. 

Diligently, he licked Gothmog's finger until it was withdrawn and pushed against the resistant ring of muscle between his legs, attempting to enter him. Eönwë tensed reflexively – he still hadn't gotten used to being penetrated – but then forced his fána to relax. There was no use in fighting this; and he had long since found out that it could feel quite nice if he didn't. 

The first finger he took fairly easily, used to it after the last few rounds of "practice", but the second was still too much for his tight passage, untouched and unexplored for most of his existence. A pained whimper escaped him, and he clenched around the finger that was already inside him, his fána readying itself for the pain of being forced open – 

"It's alright," Gothmog murmured and briefly withdrew his hand to grab a bottle of oil and pour a generous amount over his fingers. The leash had long since been dropped and discarded; they both knew he had no chance of escaping and wouldn't try to. 

It was not alright, Eönwë attempted to remind himself – his home had been taken and the Elves and Maiar under his command had been captured and were surely suffering this very moment. Even so he took Gothmog's words to heart and let himself be soothed. He could take the sharp edge of a blade and the fury of a Balrog's whip and he could withstand the horrors of war if he had to; but the one thing he could not take was being defiled in such an intimate manner, the tender, innocent part within him that had spent ages waiting for his one true love being used and violated for the amusement and pleasure of his captor. 

For his own sanity, he had to believe that Gothmog's patience with him was a gesture of kindness and affection, and his eyes swam with gratitude when oil was slowly and gently spread all over his entrance and small praises were whispered in his ear. 

"Look how well you're doing with your training, little bird. In the beginning you could barely fit one of the little plugs." 

Eönwë nodded in agreement, tilting his head back to let Gothmog kiss his neck. It was true – even the smallest intrusion had caused him to tense up and cry, and he had required great patience and encouragement. With the added lubrication, two fingers now slipped inside him with relative ease.

"Soon you will be able to take me properly," Gothmog noted with a pleased purr, and Eönwë found that he wasn't as disturbed by the prospect as he perhaps should be. In fact, his fána was telling him just how nice it felt to finally have his needs met, no longer relying on his own fingers or various household objects to bring him relief whenever he was in heat.  

"Would you like a reward for being so good?" Gothmog asked him then, as if he had sensed his growing willingness and wanted to reinforce it. 

Eönwë had long since forgotten himself. "Yes, please." 

He was pushed forward, his face buried in the pillows of his new owner's luxurious bed, his ass up in the air, proudly displayed and begging for attention. Gothmog used his hands to spread him wide open once again and lowered his head. The feeling of a searing hot tongue had Eönwë flinch for a split second, then the pleasure of its rough texture brushing against his sensitive rim set in. He found himself moaning and mewling in delight, pushing his hips back to get more of that wonderful friction and inviting it inside. 

It's degrading, it's wrong, it's evil.

It feels so good.

He was no longer free and he was no longer pure, and yet this was how his deepest and most secret fantasies were finally fulfilled – to be desired by another, to be taken and pleasured without shame or inhibitions. He didn't have to court anyone, he didn't have to pretend; all he needed to do was to submit and be a pretty pet. 

He shouldn't want this. Yet when Gothmog briefly stopped to ask him if he liked his reward Eönwë begged for more, and the sheets underneath him were soon stained with the remnants of his most deplorable desire.

Thanks for reading! ♡

#⊰⟡⊱ dub-con #eonwe #eönwë #gothmog #gothmog x eonwe #maiar #ainur #alternate universe #silm smut #minors dni #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #dead dove do not eat #TPCdeaddovedecember

[fellomenking]

crybaby-tarnished

// oh the horned king! Nice!

Man! And it’s, like, I’ve wanted so much to try and get a blog up and running for the Horned King over on this here tumblr, but I never had much luck because he’s just sort of this obscure character, and it just seemed like there wasn’t much interest, so I just sort of lost motivation for him.

And that makes me sad because he was the first muse I ever had, so he’ll always hold a special place in my heart...

King Candy/Turbo had much better luck when it came to activity.

... And then Gothmog happened and stole away all the attention, just like RoadBlasters did.

The amount of smut that I wrote for this guy still has me amazed.

Like, of all the muses I’ve had, he’s gotten involved in a LOT of relationships. And he ended up having a LOOOOOOOT of kids...

... It was actually kinda sweet.

#{{OutOfOmens}} #crybabytarnished #... I don't even remember the artist. #I'm not even sure if they're even around still.

[ao3feed-tolkien]

close encounters of the fourth (base) kind

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SpQwTtU

by PandaFlower

The Among Us AU absolutely none of you asked for yet I deliver anyway.

The Rochallor is a deep space ferry ship, braving the dangers of wild space to reach far-flung planets for the sake of their passengers. But not all dangers are external.

Maedhros is the newest member of the crew, ready to find out what life is like with Fingon in it.

Words: 38106, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Don't Be Suspicious

Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Maedhros | Maitimo, Fingon | Findekáno, Indis (Tolkien), Findis (Tolkien), Írimë | Lalwen, The House of Fingolfin - Character, The House of Finarfin, The House of Fëanor - Character, Amlach (Tolkien), Magor (Tolkien), Bór the Faithful, Bór's Wife (Tolkien), Gothmog (Lord of Balrogs), Lungorthin (Tolkien), Saeros (Tolkien), Finwë (Tolkien), Húrin Thalion, Huor (Tolkien), Morwen Eledhwen, Rían of the House of Bëor, Urwen Lalaith, Túrin Turambar, Niënor Níniel, Tuor (Tolkien), other mentioned characters

Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Other Canon Relationships

Additional Tags: Among Us AU, Starring: Indis the Impostor, and all that implies, Maedhros inherits his grandfather's taste in people eaters, but not the sense to dodge being a cat toy, Alien Sex, Alien Cultural Differences, Alien/Human Relationships, blue/orange morality, Character Death, Gratuitous Smut, Smut is the whole reason this exists actually, written strictly for funsies don't take it too seriously, Gift Fic

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/SpQwTtU

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #Tolkien #JRR Tolkien #Tolkien works #ao3 #fan fiction

[jail-crow-of-mandos]

What Your Favourite Silm Character Says About You (part 1)

Fëanor: You're neurodivergent and relate to him because you too would commit unspeakable atrocities for your special interest.

Maedhros: You have childhood trauma that you haven't yet recovered from. Alternatively, you just really like gingers and want to fuck him. Or both.

Maglor: You still haven't moved on from your emo phase.

Celegorm: You are perhaps too horny for your own good. 99% of your bookmarked fics on AO3 are smut.

Caranthir: You have spent way too much time surrounded by dumbasses and your patience is wearing thin. Also, you're autistic.

Curufin: You somehow manage to be simultaneously the smartest and dumbest person you know.

Amras: You keep unintentionally basing your characterization of Ambarussa on the Weasley twins even though the only thing they have in common is that they're twins with red hair.

Amrod: You realize that Amrod has literally 0 personality descriptors in any of Tolkien's works, so you have to make up your own characterization for him and proceed to get frustrated when you can't find any fics where he acts "in-character".

Fingon: When you read the Silmarillion, you always have to skip chapter 24 because it fucks you up too much.

Maeglin: You were labelled as gifted as a child, but as you've gotten older, you've stopped receiving the praise that you thrived off of as a kid, and now you have crippling imposter syndrome.

Mairon: There is no universe in which you're straight.

Melkor: There is no universe in which you're cis.

Gothmog: You're way too into bara. Also probably a size queen.

Thuringwethil: You're a U-Haul lesbian.

Manwë: 90% of what you write are fix-it fics because you just want everyone to be happy.

Eönwë: You have never read a Silm modern AU and you plan on keeping it that way.

Varda: You romanticise the idea of sleeping under the stars, but whenever you actually try to do it, you only last ten minutes before the bugs send you back inside.

Nienna: ...Honey, do you need a hug? I think you need a hug.

Mandos: You're unreasonably irritated that I didn't call him Námo.

#tolkien #silmarillion #once again im not tagging all these characters lol #lmk who you want to see in part 2

[arofili]

the fire of life

for the @tolkienrsb 2020, featuring art by @silmallyrn !

Mairon was the only good part of Maedhros' time in Angband, but Fingon could never believe that. Now Fingon is the captive and Maedhros the rescuer, and he will have to accept the truth of his lover's history with Mairon if he ever wants to see him again.

A Fingon Lives AU with a not-evil!Mairon, polyamory, interweaving flashbacks creating a dual narrative, and rounded out with some smut! Please see the AO3 tags and story notes for full warnings.

Rating: E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Mairon/Maedhros/Fingon Characters: Mairon, Maedhros, Fingon, Thuringwethil, Gothmog, various character cameos Word count: approx. 30,000

Full art piece available HERE! (Rating: G)

READ IT ON AO3! (available beginning 9/6/20!)

#trsb20 #tolkienrsb #silmarillion #silm #the silmarillion #mairon #maedhros #fingon #sauron #findekano #russingon #maitimo #thuringwethil #gothmog #silmallyrn #mallyrn #the fire of life #my writing #my fic #tefain nin

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

The beginning

Prompt no. 15: Passionately

Pairing: Eönwë x Pre-defection! Gothmog (Calinár)

Themes: Soft | Smut

Warnings: Kissing | Hand job | Oral sex | Sensation play/Feather play

Others: Ósanwe for communication

Wordcount: 1.1k words

Summary: While the others entertain themselves during the Feast of Horns, Calinár and Eönwë make the most of the nearly empty halls Oromë called home.

Minors DNI | 18+| You are responsible for the media you consume.

This fic is also available on AO3

They left the others to their diversions and returned to the halls where the chase began. Here, Calinár led his new companion down one dimly lit corridor after another until they reached the chamber set aside for his own use.

Neither he nor Eönwë spoke a word until a wide, wooden door half again as tall as the tallest among them was locked and bolted. Calinár wasted no time freeing them both of their robes. Then he dragged the herald in for a kiss.

This kiss was slower, more luxuriant, and far more patient than their first kiss. Eönwë melted against him, degree by slow degree, then carefully opened his mind to his companion’s own. Lust was the first thing he found, swirling around him like a deep red haze and dragging him in. Then he found want, shimmering through the haze like a cloud of silver stars. And then he found something else: a tiny spark glittering amidst the crimson and silver, vivid and golden. He yearned to reach out and learn for himself what it was, but the red haze enveloped it all, and that tiny golden spark disappeared from his sight.

“Soon,” Calinár whispered when he was able to speak. “You will learn what that is soon enough. For now, let me have this.”

“What do you want from me?” Eönwë gasped. He was being pulled forward, his feet shuffling against the wooden floor, and his eyes widened at what loomed before them.

“Everything, little bird. I want everything.”

“I… I do not know where to even begin.”

Calinár smiled and tumbled them both onto a pile of soft pelts as soon as they neared the featherbed. “I do.”

He swallowed the sigh of pleasure that followed with another kiss, groaning softly when talon-sharp nails clawed into ochre skin. Calinár laughed, triumphant, when his companion threw his head against the pillows and moved his legs to rest over his.

There is time enough for that. He reached out and caressed a brilliant blue and green wing that rustled against the furs. A low moan echoed around the chamber, deep and long and full of want, and the nails that clawed into his skin moved, leaving a mark of their own. He stroked those feathers again, and again, and again, before running the tips of his fingers around their edges. Eönwë, electrified, writhed beneath him, closing his eyes when his companion braced one hand by his shoulder while the other moved lower, down past his belly, until it found what it was looking for.

“Does it feel good?” Calinár whispered, his own arousal growing stronger when Eönwë lifted his hips, panting and crying out, and thrust into his fist.

“Yes, yes. It does feel good.” Eönwë felt like he was soaring. He went higher and higher, seeking rapture, seeking his release. Overwhelmed, he leaned up, seeking his companion’s mouth with a long, passionate kiss. 

The poets were right. There truly is no greater bliss than this: to lose oneself in the embrace of another. 

And he did lose himself completely, his companion’s name parting his lips in a whisper. Another moan spilled freely, deeper than the one before it. Eönwë shook, and he shook, arching his back while his seed spilled onto his belly, covering it in thin, warm stripes. A deep, satisfied breath followed, and then, possessed by a sudden flash of boldness, he opened his eyes and grabbed Calinár by the arms, flipping him onto his back, until it was he who was sitting astride him.

“Very good, little bird.” Calinár’s heady laughter and his praise were like sweet music to his ears. Eönwë grew even bolder. He kissed with fire and hunger, seeking the heat of his companion's mouth. Their bodies rocked against each other, creating a delicious friction neither had felt before. Then he moved lower, leaving a damp trail down scorching, trembling flesh, not ceasing until he was sinking his mouth down Calinár’s cock. It was what he saw being done to some of the others, and he thought his companion would like it.

"Yes." Calinár’s words were ragged and wanton. “Just like that, little bird.”

Claw-like nails raked through his hair. Fingers that were as heated as the rest of the body under him tangled themselves in thick, dark locks, caressing the back of his head and then pushing him down each time the hips beneath pushed up. Eönwë dared to steal a glance. He found his companion caught in the throes of bliss, his eyes closed, his body twisting against the pelts, and his mouth slightly parted.

"Will you do more of what you are doing to me?” He asked wordlessly. “Will you do the other things we both witnessed on our way here?”

He had not been fibbing when he confessed that the chase was the first of many things for him. And yet Calinár stayed with him still, kissing him the way he dreamed of being kissed and willingly offering so much more than that.

“I will,” Calinár promised. “All that we saw and more.” 

He groaned, curling his toes against the furs and fisting his hands in Eönwë’s hair, when a sharp burst of pleasure flared through him, wiping his mind clean of all thought. His release followed hot and hard on its heels, surging through him like an all-consuming flood, drowning him in its bright, starry waters, filling him with its dizzying joy, its frenzied wildness, and the ripples that slowly morphed into flames. He cried out, spilling himself, not caring if the others all heard. And Eönwë—without being told—took in the bitterness of his seed into his mouth and then hoisted himself to his knees, his own needs sated.

They stayed as they were, not moving; their bodies were overcome with a deep sense of ease. Calinár, craving more than just the stillness that lingered around them, was the first to stir. 

I was right to choose him. I was right to heed the demands of my own heart. 

More of that would come much later. “Come here, little bird,” he commanded gently, welcoming his companion into his embrace. “I wish to feel your skin against my own.”

The herald obeyed, closing his eyes almost immediately when Calinár cradled him in his arms and let him rest atop his own body. Eönwë may have been a fraction taller, but Calinár was stronger. The weight of him and his wings were nothing to the one beneath him.

“Is this the end?” He asked, thinking about what would happen next.

“No, little bird." Calinár rubbed his back and soothed him to sleep. "This is just the beginning for you and me.”

Image by Etienne Girardet/Unsplash

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

#kiss prompts #Eönwë #Eönwë smut #gothmog #gothmog smut #eönwë x gothmog #Almaren days #the silm #the silmarilion #the silm fanfiction #💫a world of whimsy writes

[cilil]

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞 | 𝐍𝐨 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞

𓄌 Characters/pairings: Gothmog x Eönwë (Firebird) 𓄌 Synopsis: Gothmog has been looking for an opportunity to meet a certain Maia again. Eönwë is hoping to become the target of a fierce hunter. 𓄌 Warnings: Smut, rimming, Eönwë is weird, Gothmog is a Balrog so it's monsterfucking 𓄌 Oneshot (~1.4k words) | AO3

"There you are, my pretty." 

Wide blue eyes met glowing orange when Gothmog stepped out of the shadows where had kept himself hidden.

"You are one of the Dark One's Maiar," Eönwë whispered as if the mere mention of Melkor was sinful, the plumage on his wings fluffing up defensively. "You shouldn't be here."

"I am," Gothmog said nonchalantly and walked closer. "Are you afraid?" 

He was curious more than anything. The object of his desire was a warrior like himself, of that he was certain and his lord believed it too, but the other Maia's fána was tense and anxiety written all over his face. 

"I can defend myself if it comes to... that," Eönwë said. Eyes narrowed, he surveyed the fire spirit in front of him. "You seem familiar." 

Gothmog chuckled. "Aye. We have met before, bird."

"Where? I don't–" 

"Have you truly forgotten? You wound me." 

Eönwë blinked. His brow furrowed as he searched his memory, until finally realisation struck. 

"Did you... were you the one who took me when I was caught by the Dark One's snowstorm?" 

"Yes." Seeing his uncertainty, Gothmog held up his hands. "I swear I didn't hurt you. I only brought you home." 

"You... were the one who..." Eönwë appeared to be lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Well. And now?" 

"I, uh... just wanted to see you again?" Gothmog shifted on his clawed feet. 

"Not claim me?" Maybe he was imagining things, but for a moment Eönwë seemed almost disappointed.

"Claim you? Why?" 

"You have horns." He pointed at the magnificent pair sprouting from Gothmog's forehead. 

"Yes? I always do." 

"Oh." Slowly, Eönwë folded his wings. "Well, the Feast of Horns is currently taking place again, so I thought..." 

Gothmog didn't know too much about the customs of Almaren's Maiar and shrugged his shoulders. "My lord just told me it was a good opportunity because many of you would be out and about." 

He eyed the dejected-looking herald who politely nodded along. 

"Did you want me to? Claim you, I mean?" 

Eönwë's feathers immediately went up again, this time accompanied by a bright red blush.

"Would you enjoy that?" Gothmog continued to press, stepping closer. He was in range to smell the other Maia now and tried his best to hide the fact that he was greedily inhaling his scent. It was subtle, especially in an environment where plants and animals were abundant, but he caught it without fail, having familiarised himself with it when he had last held the herald in his arms. 

"Maybe?" Eönwë looked around sheepishly as if he was convinced that one of the Valar would jump out of the bushes to scold him for fraternising with an enemy. Still, there was undeniable excitement slowly seeping into his demeanour. 

Taking this as an invitation, Gothmog reached out to pet his head. The pale blonde locks were just as soft as they looked, as were the feathers on his ears that made them look like tiny wings attached to his head. 

Eönwë leaned into his touch for a moment, lowering his head in the manner of birds wanting their neck feathers preened, but then recoiled suddenly. "No." 

Gothmog withdrew his hand. "No?" 

Regret was written all over Eönwë's face immediately. 

"No, I meant... just not like this." 

"What do you mean then?"

He bit his bottom lip. "More... forcefully."

Gothmog frowned. "Isn't that forbidden on Almaren?" 

"Well, yes, but... you wouldn't care about that, would you?" 

"You speak in riddles, bird. And while you are pretty and I meant what I said about seeing you again, I won't be walking into any traps or let myself be ridiculed." 

Eönwë vigorously shook his head. "No, that... no, not at all. I swear it. I merely thought..." 

He seemed to be fighting with himself for a few moments longer before he answered. "I just want it like that, you know? Passionate, violent. But the others won't even hunt me properly. No one has come for me yet..." 

His shoulders visibly stiffened. "And I thought maybe you would be interested." 

"So you just want someone to be rough with you," Gothmog concluded. 

"Yes."

He reached out again, and the other Maia didn't protest. This time he seized a fistful of his hair and pulled on it, dragging him closer. 

Eönwë let out a small moan. 

"Like that?" Gothmog asked. 

"Yes. Exactly like that." 

It was all the encouragement he needed to throw the herald to the ground and pounce on him. Eönwë was struggling and frantically flapping his wings like a bird caught in the jaws of a predator, and it felt great to overpower him and hold him down with his mightier fána. Gothmog bit his shoulder for good measure, his fangs leaving deep marks. 

"Still enjoying yourself, bird?" 

"Yes, please go on." 

"As you wish." 

A chaotic coupling in the woods of Oromë wasn't quite what Gothmog had envisioned for this encounter, but he considered himself lucky. He had anticipated a more hostile and cautious reaction from Eönwë, certainly not to be asked to pretend to prey on him. 

And he would make the most out of it. 

Once he had successfully pinned his catch to the ground, he tore off his garments with his teeth. Eönwë watched him with a strange sort of tranquillity, dazed and intrigued by the display of monstrous ferocity, and it was a lovely sight. He was so sweet in Gothmog's eyes that he briefly considered eating him after all, but then he had a better idea. 

"Will you take me now, Hunter?" Eönwë asked demurely when the fire spirit rested his large head against his lower body, curiously nosing his hardening cock. 

"Better yet, you shall become a most delicious meal," Gothmog chuckled.

Not waiting for further questions, he placed Eönwë's legs on his broad shoulders, careful not to injure him with the sharp edges of the crystals growing on him, and dug his claws into the pliant flesh of his ass to reveal the tiny, twitching hole between his cheeks. 

He'll need some practice anyway if he ever wants to take a cock inside that, he thought and leaned forward to begin licking it. 

Eönwë's reaction was both immediate and intense. His heels dug into Gothmog's shoulders, his muscles tensed and trembled, and sounds so wonderfully obscene he hadn't thought them possible escaped his throat. 

"Yes, please, right there..." 

Only he would say please while getting eaten out by an Úmaia in a forest, Gothmog thought to himself, feeling a strange fondness budding and blooming in his chest. What a precious little bird he had caught himself, so different from the heroic persona crafted for the public eye. There was something intimate about seeing him like this. 

Even when presenting himself in such a lewd manner, Eönwë was so enticingly pure. The way he reacted to being touched this way made Gothmog wonder if it was his first time letting another enjoy his fána. His flesh tasted like fresh rain and smelled like a summer breeze, full of life, warmth and beauty, and every inch of it was as clean as if he had just returned from a thorough bath. 

Slowly but steadily, he worked his tongue inside. Eönwë was tight and despite his best efforts not quick to yield, yet Gothmog remained patient. His work was, however, brought to an early end when he felt muscles tense and was greeted with the sight of pearly white seed staining a heaving torso. 

Patting Eönwë's thigh, he withdrew and removed his legs from his shoulders. The prospect of fucking that tight little hole right then and there was tempting, but Gothmog decided to hold back. He had given his favourite bird a taste of bliss, just as he himself had tasted it, and hoped to have roused his curiosity enough that they could meet again in the future. 

Eönwë had turned his head to the side and hidden it underneath one wing, still panting heavily. 

"I am ready," he declared. 

"Not today, bird," Gothmog said. "Your hunter has had his meal and may in time return for another, should you wish it." 

"Y-yes... that would be nice." Eönwë wrapped his other wing around himself as well to complete a protective cocoon of sorts, shame hitting him hard now that his lust died down. 

Gothmog ruffled his feathers affectionately. "You're very pretty, and I don't mind you being a freak, if that is your concern."

"I am not–"

"Sure thing, bird.”

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii @wandererindreams

#feastofhorns #eonwe #eönwë #gothmog #gothmog x eonwe #firebird #maiar #ainur #oneshot #silm smut #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #silmarillion #cílil writes #my writing #minors dni

[morenotles]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Angbang - Relationship, Melkor/Mairon Characters: Melkor, Mairon, Kosomot/Gothmog, Assorted OC Supporting Characters Additional Tags: PWP - Porn With Plot, Vala/maia, Master/Servant, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Violence, Medical Procedure - minor, Eventual Smut, Despair Summary:

After his disgrace at Tol Sirion/Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Mairon has returned to Angband after about a year of self-imposed exile. Despite being banned from Melkor's Presence and sentenced to spend his days laboring in the mines under his own fortress, Mairon is not capable of forgetting where his true duty lies.

Have you ever wondered how Mairon became so adept at manipulation to seduce poor Tyelpe into making the Rings of Power or persuade that git Ar-Pharazon "The Golden" into actually attacking Valinor?

(Thank you to Morgause1 - from whom I've "borrowed" the concept of Mairon's punishment in the mines. And thank you to Jess - fantasychica37 on Tumblr - for the impetus necessary to put this beast to bed - literally.)

I would like to Dedicate this story to the both of you in gratitude for the inspiration you've given me. Thank you again, very much!

#angbang #Mairon #Melkor #fanfic

[joyfullynervouscreator]

For the favourite fic ask: Ghost Love Score and Urban Gentrification. Feanor and Nerdanel's stalwart love was rendered gorgeously, and the part where she sings and Feanor runs towards her voice is pure

That, I admit, is very unexpected!

For Ghost Love Score, I wrote the bulk of it on a train journey (and made myself sort of cry, which was a bit difficult to explain to my family picking me up for a week’s worth of extended clan holiday in honour of my grandfather’s 90th... erm.). I admit I consider it one of my least read (of the silm fics) works, though I personally enjoy it; I still don’t know if I prefer the extended version or the one that ends with Fëanor running...

Urban Gentrification owes A TON to my wildly talented(if super shy, shh, don’t scare her) co-writer @dalandel without whom it probably neer would have got beyond the scope of ‘minor side ship in AIT’. She has taught me so much (I flatter myself saying it’s mutual) and I can definitely say that the chapters only get better as we go... And yes, Maegs derserves ALL of the love.

Admittedly, converting people from ‘tf is Gothmog/Maeglin??’ to enjoyers of our ship is our combined favourite thing ever (2nd place is probably our shared love of smut and wine, admittedly), and we strive to create a believable balance between the different aspects of the two main characters (in future, the fic will see more intersection with AIT, as well, and several more background shots are in the works; if you haven’t already, I recommend you reading Falling Through, which tackles the thorny subject of Eöl beautifully , if I do say so myself).

#raiy replies #ask memery #writing woes #Anonymous

[masonmerger]

Silmarillion Betas?

Any betas out there willing to give a read/edit to my Slutty Eyeball  Mairon|Sauron x Everyone (seperately across the Ages ;p) fic? 17Kish.

Pairings are as follows (in order of appearance/chronological order):

EDIT: Thanks @mywoesaregranular <3 <3 <3 posting this bitch soon >D

Aulë

Melkor

Gothmog 

Fëanor

Finrod 

Luthien & Langdon 

Maedhros 

Thuringwethil

Celebrimbor 

The One Ring

Ar-Pharazon + Tar Miriel 

Angmar/Er-Mûrazôr

Khamul 

Smeagol

Bilbo

Mouth of Sauron

Olorin 

Galadriel 

Manwë

Eonwë 

Frodo

God our little eyeball gets around. XD Uh -- fair warning, there is smut. Though not necessarily in all pairings. But -- fucked up shit and smut. For sure.

#silm #silm fic #my fic #slutty eyeball #sauron #mairon #angbang #tolkien fic #silmarillion #the silmarillion #Mairon x everyone #Eagle Eye #Angstmar #olorin #galadrie #frodo #eonwe #manwe #bilbo #mouth of sauron #smeago #khamul #ar-pharazon #tar miriel #the one ring #celebrimbor #silvergifting #thuringwethil #finrod #feanor

[ao3feed-thorinduil]

Bits & Pieces

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2KTA8mu

by sunaddicted

BOND/LONDON SPY FANDOMS: chapters 1 - 30

TOLKIEN FANDOM: chapters 31 - 64

GOTHAM FANDOM: chapters 65 - 69

MISC FANDOMS: chapters 70 - 74

Words: 40452, Chapters: 74/74, Language: English

Fandoms: James Bond (Craig movies), London Spy, Hannibal (TV), TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, Gotham (TV), Sherlock (TV), DCU, DCU (Comics), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: F/F, M/M, Multi

Characters: James Bond, Q (James Bond), Danny Holt, Alex Turner (London Spy), Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter, Eve Moneypenny, Bill Tanner, M | Gareth Mallory, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Sauron | Mairon, Yavanna Kementári, Aulë | Mahal, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Gothmog, Kíli (Tolkien), Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Thranduil (Tolkien), Thorin Oakenshield, Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot, Martin (Gotham), Barbara Kean, Leslie Thompkins, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy

Relationships: James Bond/Q, James Bond/Danny Holt/Q/Alex Turner, Danny Holt/Alex Turner, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Sauron | Mairon & Yavanna Kementári, Aulë | Mahal & Sauron | Mairon, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon, Gothmog/Sauron | Mairon, Kíli (Tolkien)/Tauriel (Hobbit Movies), Thorin Oakenshield/Thranduil, Oswald Cobblepot/Edward Nygma, Oswald Cobblepot & Martin & Edward Nygma, Barbara Kean/Leslie Thompkins, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter

Additional Tags: Fluff, Angst, Heavy Angst, Crack, Alternate Universe, Smut, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gore, Blood, Slice of Life, Character Study, Character Death

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2KTA8mu

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #lotr fanfic #the hobbit fic #tolkien fic #thranduil x thorin #thorin x thran

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Day 1 of @silmsmutweek

Pairing: Melkor x Gothmog | Location: Angband

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Weapons use | Death (thralls) | Monsterfucking | Masturbation | Kissing | Oral

Word count: 1.2K words

Summary: The lord of Angband pleasures himself while fantasizing about his Captain and Lord of the Balrogs.

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

A/n: this is the first I have written something of this nature, so here's to hoping it passes muster.

They say the seeds of want and desire take root at the most unexpected moments, and for the most unexpected persons.

This was also true for the High Lord of Angband himself. It was sheer happenstance, truly, when he came upon his servant, Gothmog, sparring with thralls unfortunate enough to capture the Balrog’s eye.

Melkor concealed himself in the shadows and kept to an upper walkway while he watched his servant cut through each and every one of his opponents with a single strike of his great sword. Thralls quailed when they were called forth, the bitter stench of their fear fouling the air. Melkor reveled in it, just like he reveled in the scene unfolding before his eyes. Gothmog showed no mercy. He could not be prevailed upon to offer any. It was who he was and how Melkor expected him to be: hard of heart and without pity. One by one, thralls were pushed forward by an orc guard, and one by one they all fell, until none remained to stand before the High Captain of Angban. It was a glorious sight. Gothmog lifted his sword and let out a great bellow, the sound echoing across the dreary courtyards and darkened corridors of the Iron Prison like a mighty war cry.

Melkor continued to watch while Gothmog moved away from the butchery and freed himself of his bloody armor. Plate and mail and leather were all consigned to a heap. The Balrog huffed and sat on a large flat stone, content to wait until a new suit of armor was brought out to him. Gothmog had no need for such protection, but the image of him in dark steel, chased in fiery crimson, was enough to strike fear into the hearts of his enemies. And only lesser beings had cause to fear him. Melkor was no lesser being; he did not fear him, and when he found Gothmog clad in nothing but his own nakedness, he felt something else. Oh, he had seen Gothmog before, on many and more occasions, but never like this, all powerful and proud and fierce and utterly without shame. When Gothmog rose once more to garb himself, his very form rippling with his movement, Melkor experienced a sharp tug in the deepest core of his being.

He knew what it was. That tug was lust—raw and unbridled carnal lust, the kind that threatened to set him ablaze. Fighting it and leaving it unsated was fruitless, for it already had him in a vise-like grip. Dizzy and lightheaded, his entire fana crackling like he had been struck by bolts of lightning, Melkor turned sharply on his heel and departed, silently and swiftly, to his chamber.

It was here, safely ensconced behind doors of thick wood and iron, that he yielded to the heated call of his baser urges. Seated in his great chair, he closed his eyes while his hands worked on undoing the bindings and ties of his robes. They loosened with barely a rustle and fell away, exposing vast expanses of his fana and throbbing cock to his own touch. Melkor breathed deeply while visions of his servant came to him like a great flood.

The Vala saw, as clearly as if he were looking through new glass, Gothmog standing before him. He envisioned himself reaching out and running his eager hands over obsidian and crimson-red flesh. Supple wings would tremble faintly while Melkor continued with his exploration. His entire being grew hot while he stroked his engorged member and envisaged himself capturing Gothmog’s lips with his. The Balrog’s sinful mouth opened beneath his, his tongue pressing against Melkor’s own. And that was not all. He pictured Gothmog himself slowly taking the lead and returning Melkor’s kisses with equal fire and passion. Dark nails would rake down Melkor’s back in such a frenzy that he could almost feel them and their sharp sting, even though he was alone. That pain would mingle with heady pleasure while Gothmog went lower and lower until he was at the apex of Melkor’s thighs. Gothmog’s smile had been quick and cunning, the glow of lust burning bright in his fired gold eyes.

Melkor moaned long and deep, his breath reducing to ragged pants. His chambers grew strangely heated, and the air thickened even as he adjusted himself in his seat and made himself more comfortable.

He was far from done. He now thought of Gothmog and how he would part his dark, sinful lips around Melkor's shaft. Those same lips would become slick and swollen, while his crimson cheeks clenched and hollowed out every time he moved his head. Gothmog would use his warm hands to tighten and release, his strokes as relentless as his hungry mouth. The Balrog would look up at him. Melkor would return his gaze, grunting softly before throwing his head back, his mouth parting in a silent moan. He would brush his hand over thick, dark horns, over coarse, black hair, thinking nothing in Arda was finer, or softer. And there were no words. None were needed for a long time, only the heat of touch and lips and tongue.

More, he would eventually say. Give me more. 

Gothmog gave him so much more. Melkor pumped his length to even more lewd visions while he desperately chased his release. He now conjured up the image of Gothmog swirling his tongue and lapping up the pearly white seed already leaking from his cock. He pursued his daydream still, this time seeing himself showering his captain with praise.

You truly know how to use your tongue. 

Just like that. 

You listen so well. 

Good, now faster. 

His imagination ran riot when it was filled with Gothmog growing drunk on such words. The Balrog's movements went from slow and deliberate to fast and brutal. He shuddered when hands that now positively smoldered gripped his thighs. A spiked tail whipped at the air. Gothmog sputtered, his eyes darting to Melkor’s once more, as if seeking permission.

Yes, Melkor would say. Finish me.

Gothmog would eagerly do what was asked of him. He would go on to finish Melkor, not stopping until his lord’s spend filled his mouth. Melkor moaned again, long and guttural and otherworldly, while he convulsed from the orgasm that ripped through him. He barely felt the warmth of his seed spilling all over his hand and belly. Melkor—overwhelmed and lost in a state of rapture—sagged into his chair, completely satisfied.

His heady visions melted away like mist while his breath slowly returned to a more even keel. Melkor forced himself to open his eyes and look around the room after his hunger had been sated. It was dark and gloomy and empty. There was a sweet silence in the air. The Vala dared to glance at himself. His fana bore the tell-tale signs of his pleasure, but he did not care, for he had never experienced such euphoria before.

Melkor then took a deep breath and pondered long and hard about what just happened. Perhaps, he thought, it would be wise to crush whatever it was that ensnared him, and let it end here and now. It was improper, for he was Lord, and Gothmog was but a servant after all. However, the seeds had already been planted. Melkor could feel them taking root and growing strong within him. Perhaps, he finally concluded, he could explore more in the future.

Tags: @cilil

#silmsmutweek #melkor #gothmog #melkor smut #gothmog smut #the silm #the silm imagine #angband #angband imagine #melkor imagine #gothmog imagine #💫a world of whimsy writes

[cilil]

rare pair bingo

⸙ Prompt: One-bar prison | Gothmog x Eönwë ⸙ Synopsis: Gothmog decides to put his pretty bird on display. Eönwë may or may not enjoy it more than he wants to admit. ⸙ Warnings: Sex toys, dirty talk, smutty ⸙ Triple drabble

"You look lovely like this," Gothmog purred. 

The only response he received from Eönwë was a strained groan and a small rattling sound as he attempted to shift his position. His favourite enemy was currently standing atop one single iron bar, its end snugly wedged between muscular cheeks, its tip inside him. To ensure that he would stay in place, his ankles were fettered and chained to the bar, and his hands were bound behind his back. A gag Gothmog had forgone for the moment, wanting to hear the song of his lover's pleasure. 

Eönwë's awkward shifting caused the toy at the tip of the bar to press inside him at a different angle, and he moaned softly. "D-do I...?" 

"Yes. Very much so." Gothmog affectionately ruffled his pale golden locks, his fána glowing with pride. Such a pretty little angel, bound and helpless, and he belonged to him and him alone. 

"Will you leave me like this?" Eönwë asked, eyes half-lidded and slightly teary. "Will you go attend to your duties and make me wait for your return?"

"You ask me as though you want me to make you suffer a little," Gothmog laughed. "So you tell me. Do you enjoy being on display like this? Do you like standing here with a toy inside you, waiting for your master? Do you want to beg for my attention when you can't take it anymore?"

He watched Eönwë's muscles tense and flex as he tried his best to keep his bound fána from reacting to his words, but the effect they had on him was obvious. Grinning, Gothmog reached down to give his hard, leaking cock a few lazy strokes. 

"What my pet bird wants, he gets," he cooed, "so be good for me now, and I'll reward you later."

Thanks for reading! ♡

taglist: @angbangbaby @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @bluezenzennie @edensrose @elanna-elrondiel @eunoiaastralwings @i-did-not-mean-to @just-little-human @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii @wandererindreams

#tpcrarepairbingo #gothmog #eonwe #eönwë #gothmog x eonwe #firebird #drabble #silm smut #silm rare pairs #silmarillion #silm fanfic #silmarillion fanfiction #minors dni #cílil writes #my writing