“Be careful what you wish for.”
[releasetheprisoners] ✧ “… If you are still making things… No… Penis tables… Please.”
Tag: Shameless Misbehaving
✧ for Lin. c:
*Sighs the deepest of sighs*
“…Once again, Lindethiel, YOU WORK FOR ME. By far your most useful asset lies is the fact that as an elf, you remain uncorrupted, and are doing me favors of your own free will. I need you to stay that way. I like you that way.
It is baffling to me that you would ASK for… you know what? Fine.
It’s a table.
Its function is that of a table.
Its curse is that people will see this table, and know it is yours, and they will pass judgement on you accordingly.
Also its accompanying set of chairs are disastrously uncomfortable. THIS TOO SHALL BE YOUR CURSE. As I’m starting to suspect that you are mine…”
So A Dark Lord Walks Into A Bar… –RivkaZ 2017
Because I have no self control, I’ve retouched this picture yet again, and in doing so, realized I never really uploaded the finished full sized version to tumblr!
Also, the super-duper high resolution version of this image is available on my Patreon! 🙂
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🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉HAPPY MIRTHDAY!!!!🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉TO OUR LOVELY @mithrilbikini!!!!!!! HAVE THE RAREST POLYPAIRING EVER!!! AN OFFERING TO THE POLY LORDS!!!! 🎂
u3u ♥🎈
Sometime in the night, longing crept under his skin, and a state of distraction hounds him throughout his day.
He catches himself leaning closer to people as they speak, falling half in love with the expressions of strangers. A need for touch burns like an itch in the back of his thoughts; inconvenient and frustrating. He envies the errant brush of a hand across another’s throat, the silk hem of a constricting frock.
Seeking the relief of solitude, away from the storm of exchanged glances and wind-caught scents, he is driven to his chambers; but the yearning haunts him still, and he finds himself pacing like a lion in a cage, half hoping, half dreading that someone will intrude upon his suffering.
He could practically feel the need – the annoyance – the tension – that seemed to surround his brother that day. It would be highly uncouth to mention such a thing in front of their guests and servants however, and so Mairon says nothing….. even though it causes arousal and jealousy to burn within his chest. The thought that his beloved ‘brother’ might go to another to sate his need was simply unacceptable.
When Sauron left, Mairon waited only for a moment to assure their guests that everything was fine with the Lord, and that he would happily check up on him – Make sure that he wasn’t ill – before following Sauron to his chambers.
He had to think now… How would he be able to guarantee that Sauron would find him arousing? Wider hips seemed like a good choice, and so he let his grow the slightest bit to give himself a more feminine curve. His brother loved chubby humans (for some reason) so some softness might be good, though that wouldn’t be noticed unless Sauron TOUCHED him.
Finally he raised a hand to knock on his brother’s door, practically purring as he spoke.
“Are you well, brother? Our guests seem worried that you have caught some form of illness”Sauron hissed through his teeth at the sound of his brother’s voice, which was sultry under normal circumstances, and today practically dripped with coy sensuality– ostensibly for the sole purpose of aggravating him.
He did not wait for a second knock. Flinging the door open he dragged his brother inside by the collar of his thin robe, fangs bared in his face.
“You know very well I am not ill. You know exactly what is wrong with me, or you wouldn’t be here, reeking like a bitch in heat,” he spat.
Something was different about Mairon; the heft of him was off, the drape of his clothes altered in some subtle way… He stood blinking for a moment in confusion, the nearness and heat of the other like a cloud of perfume that fogged over his brain. A rolling growl like thunder left his chest, and he pinned the smaller Maia flush against the door, using the weight of his frame to slam it shut.
“You changed yourself. You brazen little succubus, what have you done,” he rasped, feeling drunk, an awful mixture of temper and lust brewing in his core. His hand thrust under the silk of Mairon’s robes, squeezing the cushion of flesh he found there, just over his usually narrow hips. It was unfair. It was a cheap, cruel tactic to use such a familiar body against him. He filled both hands with the softness of gold thighs, pressing his mouth to the pulse just under Mairon’s jaw, his inhibitions and his breath leaving him both at once.
He gasped as he was tugged inside, arousal burning all the hotter inside him at how close his brother was. His rage made him beautiful and it was as though there was an air of testosterone and phermones surrounding him. He breathed in deeply, eyes glowing brighter as a mischiveous grin played on his lips.
“It seems fitting that I take the role of a bitch in heat seeing as you’re acting and smelling no better than a hound in rut” he purred, licking his lips eagerly.
Yet another gasp was forced out of him as he was pressed against the door and he let out an eager, keening little noise. Yes…!! He had the power here….!! Oh how marvelous it was to see his beautiful brother reduced to such a needy state when it was usually the other way around! He had the upper hand despite his lesser size.
“I merely wished to help you, beloved brother” he cooed, moaning shamelessly as Sauron groped at him and kissed his neck. He knew how to be sensual and attractive and OH he was going to use it….!
“I need you, my lord brother~ Please give it to me…~!” He breathed, tilting his head further to the side to expose his neck in a most submissive way, his mouth open just a fraction.“I beg of you~ Take me~”
So viciously did he hate Mairon in that moment… every inch, every pre-meditated flattery, every licentious word that dripped from him made him want to spit fire like a balrog and roar to shake the earth. For a moment steam rose from his gritted teeth.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You creeping parasite, you reprobate–”
He wrenched smaller Maia around by one shoulder and slammed him back face-first into the door so that the frame of it rattled and creaked dangerously.
“You think this–” he grabbed a fistful of his Brother’s soft stomach and twisted it savagely, “is enough to make me forget what you are? You think I’d let you climb over me with that stolen body, sink your golden claws into my back?”
Silk rent easily in his hands, falling in shreds around Mairon’s figure, exposing his freckled back and newly rounded hips, their shape so familiar and agonizing. His breath hitched for long second– was it really Mairon’s intent to wear this shape, this forbidden, torturous shape? Had he even known what a betrayal it was? He had never seen Melkor, the way he had; mother of monsters, all voluptuous gold and thorns. Mairon’s master had been another.
No, this could be no accident. There he was, naked and framed by the entryway, molten hair streaming over his strong, angled shoulders down to the dip of his back, bowed like an instrument; the way his thighs met and kissed at the center, their sweet curves leading up to a perfect, heavy cheeks like ripe fruit waiting to be bitten. But was it his memory or this depraved need that lent the image such power over him? Every breath Mairon took made his plump flesh tremble and Thû was suddenly beyond caring. It was still a deception, still a ploy to make him lose control, give his Brother everything he wanted without thinking about the price…
He shook his head, wrath seething to a boil inside him once more; there was nothing he would put past his Brother, no sin he’d not commit to get the upper hand.
“I will have you,” he growled, loosening his belt and opening the front of his leggings, “but I’ll kiss the foot of Manwë before I’ll suffer you around prow.”
He spat in one hand and slicked the fold of Mairon’s ass, hefting his cock in the other, letting it settle ponderously between its cheeks and slide up towards the small of his dappled back. He tried not to let the relief escape him as a groan, but his chest heaved nonetheless, and Thû gripped the Maia’s hips, hauling him backward at his need.
Now lads, you know I’m not that kind of Maia. Not on the first date.
Sometime in the night, longing crept under his skin, and a state of distraction hounds him throughout his day.
He catches himself leaning closer to people as they speak, falling half in love with the expressions of strangers. A need for touch burns like an itch in the back of his thoughts; inconvenient and frustrating. He envies the errant brush of a hand across another’s throat, the silk hem of a constricting frock.
Seeking the relief of solitude, away from the storm of exchanged glances and wind-caught scents, he is driven to his chambers; but the yearning haunts him still, and he finds himself pacing like a lion in a cage, half hoping, half dreading that someone will intrude upon his suffering.
He could practically feel the need – the annoyance – the tension – that seemed to surround his brother that day. It would be highly uncouth to mention such a thing in front of their guests and servants however, and so Mairon says nothing….. even though it causes arousal and jealousy to burn within his chest. The thought that his beloved ‘brother’ might go to another to sate his need was simply unacceptable.
When Sauron left, Mairon waited only for a moment to assure their guests that everything was fine with the Lord, and that he would happily check up on him – Make sure that he wasn’t ill – before following Sauron to his chambers.
He had to think now… How would he be able to guarantee that Sauron would find him arousing? Wider hips seemed like a good choice, and so he let his grow the slightest bit to give himself a more feminine curve. His brother loved chubby humans (for some reason) so some softness might be good, though that wouldn’t be noticed unless Sauron TOUCHED him.
Finally he raised a hand to knock on his brother’s door, practically purring as he spoke.
“Are you well, brother? Our guests seem worried that you have caught some form of illness”
Sauron hissed through his teeth at the sound of his brother’s voice, which was sultry under normal circumstances, and today practically dripped with coy sensuality– ostensibly for the sole purpose of aggravating him.
He did not wait for a second knock. Flinging the door open he dragged his brother inside by the collar of his thin robe, fangs bared in his face.
“You know very well I am not ill. You know exactly what is wrong with me, or you wouldn’t be here, reeking like a bitch in heat,” he spat.
Something was different about Mairon; the heft of him was off, the drape of his clothes altered in some subtle way… He stood blinking for a moment in confusion, the nearness and heat of the other like a cloud of perfume that fogged over his brain. A rolling growl like thunder left his chest, and he pinned the smaller Maia flush against the door, using the weight of his frame to slam it shut.
“You changed yourself. You brazen little succubus, what have you done,” he rasped, feeling drunk, an awful mixture of temper and lust brewing in his core. His hand thrust under the silk of Mairon’s robes, squeezing the cushion of flesh he found there, just over his usually narrow hips. It was unfair. It was a cheap, cruel tactic to use such a familiar body against him. He filled both hands with the softness of gold thighs, pressing his mouth to the pulse just under Mairon’s jaw, his inhibitions and his breath leaving him both at once.
@admirable-mairon : #ITried. Happy valentines’ senpai! I’ve wanted to try this one out for SO LONG and despite all my searching *Seriously it’s difficult to find the exact pose I wanted* I had to do this without a reference XD I hope you like it still ❤
OOH! PORN! 😀 The gift that keeps on giving! ( ˘ ³˘)❤
–NSFW under the cut–
@admirable-mairon submitted a ~very~ steamy fantasy utilizing ~all~ the parts of the Dark Lords, so I have spliced them together in this reblog. Because reading porn and drawing porn should be taken together. As god intended.
The touch of his hand, of his blade (you haven’t deserved his hand yet), is light, barely more than a sudden caress, yet it leaves behind a trail of excruciating pain, yet another line of agony etched over your skin. If the pain weren’t so strong you might even be able to appreciate the elegance of the design that has bloomed over the days, covering your entire torso. He let you know that, times and again, the silk of a poisonous calm barely hiding his savage pleasure; like a spider in her web.
((Under the cut for violence/gore/sadism))
He wants to answer. He wants to say I remember these cuts. He wants to say I remember how your body twisted beneath my knife, how your neck bent back as you screamed. But the elf’s hand is closed around his windpipe, and while he does not need to breathe to stay alive, he needs air to speak. The muscles in his throat clench uselessly under the vice of Maehdros’s palm, producing only the weak, wet clicks of one choking.
And he is excited. Because the pain is terrible, but worse would have been disregard– if this stone-faced, savage elf had ignored him, let the memories of his torture fade to distant hurt, forgotten the name behind his scars, his name– that would have broken his heart.
Every time the knife enters him he makes sure to watch his face; he is fascinated by the tension in the elf’s jaw, the hard curve of his lips, the way his nostrils constrict when he inhales sharply, drunk with cruelty.
He has so often been on the other side of the blade, watching with pleasure every twitch, every grinding of clenched teeth, every whimper; he knows he is meant to savor the irony of it. Every flourish of the knife is a love note from an avid pupil.
In the pause between cuts there is the hope of a release that does not come; that a part of him hopes will never come until Maedhros is finished, and they understand each other fully. He hopes. He wants to ask do you love me the way I loved you, when I pressed the brand to your thigh, when I looked into your eyes and broke the bones in your hand, one by one? Am I as beautiful as you were?
But his lungs are empty, and there is too much blood in his mouth to speak.
milord Sauron has a handsome square jaw, which seems like a very sturdy place for me to sit.
…And believe me, never a finer wrought nor more willing seat was ever crafted.
I’m made of time and I have no need to breathe. Hop aboard. ❤
I have a fantasy where you are wearing — this rough rope is restraining your every movement, to the point that turning your neck towards me requires effort. You’re also gagged and you’re wearing nothing else, really, because you do not deserve it, do you? You filthy creature. You don’t really, so you’re naked and tied down and this is where my fantasy reaches its climax: I put my foot, my bare foot, to your muscled shoulder… and I push. And you fall into the sea, for Osse to dispose of :’)
Beautiful mane I’m the lion
Beautiful man I know you’re lying
I am not broken, I’m not crying, I’m not crying
You ain’t trying hard enough
It’s Sunday again folks! For this week’s misbehaving misadventure, send my muses a fantasy you have involving them.
@admirable-mairon : #ITried. Happy valentines’ senpai! I’ve wanted to try this one out for SO LONG and despite all my searching *Seriously it’s difficult to find the exact pose I wanted* I had to do this without a reference XD I hope you like it still ❤
OOH! PORN! 😀 The gift that keeps on giving! ( ˘ ³˘)❤
–NSFW under the cut–
“A gift given to the Greatest of the Valar – Two chained maiar at your disposal. I hope you accept this humble offering, O king of the world”
…Ash and I worked hard thinking up a name for this position and we narrowed it down to a few excellent candidates:
–The Two Towers
–Goal Posts
–Two Foxes On A Log
–The Seesaw
–Canoe Ride
___
@admirable-mairon: “It would start with body worship and kissing of course – A vala such as Melkor deserves all the worship he can get. Fondling – hands sliding – nails raking down sensetive flesh – Wetness and hardness. Naturally we would both want to kiss you, and seeing as you aren’t bound by reality we could both do so at the same time.
You would bind our hands – Thauron on his back on the bed, chained to the bedposts, and me with my hands in front of me so that you could use them to steer me however you wished.
We would begin with the position we have long discussed – The Two Towers or The Happy Canoe, depending on one’s preference.
You would straddle your beloved’s face and let him worship your folds with his mouth. Not that he would complain – he would willingly die between those magnificent thighs of yours if you would let him.
You would position me over my brother’s fantastic cock and look me in the eyes as you pressed me down over it, Sauron’s groans accompanying mine and sending sweet vibrations through your clit.We would keep that position for quite a while, until my seed and your slick practically coated my handsome brother’s chest and making the hair glitter as if adorned with pearls.
Next you would want both of us inside you.
You would take Sauron into yourself easily, wet as you would be, and ride him at a steady pace while I’d prepare your other hole. It might not need it, giving your magnificence, but who could ever resist fingering that delectable arse?
Once you’d be prepared enough, my lord, I would push inside as well, and oh it would almost be unbearably pleasant for all three of us.
My piercings would rub against your lovely, warm insides, rub against my Brother through the wall and it would be so amazingly tight….~!
He would kiss you and tease your nipples while I paid special attention to your ears, nipping, kissing and sucking along their fine points.If you would prefer the night to be over there, that could naturally be arranged, but if I may be so bold I would love to put in a little wish from myself as well.
I would very much love to have the both of you inside me at the same time. With my brother at my back, his beautiful voice making his chest rumble as he murmured and groaned naughty things in my ears – Oh I can feel my loins stirring at the mere thought…! My brother is oh so very attractive after all, isn’t he?
See – I would be a moaning, begging little mess already, so I can only imagine how it would be if you would press in next to him, my lord…! I would love for it to be with quite some force – I do not mind the pain. Once again my hands would be bound and you would both fuck me until I could no longer scream and moan because of a sore throat.
Pulling my hair, maybe kissing me – Or perhaps kissing eachother over my shoulder and just use me as a cock sheathe for the two of you…~!Yes – I would say that that is my greatest fantasy at this moment”
Have you two ever done it *in* a volcano? If yes – how does that feel?
It is to become molten yourself; churning under immense and building pressure, no longer separate beings but a boiling, smelted sea; bursting with heat and unbearable sweetness until the dam of earth can hold you no longer, and your love bursts gushing over the hills, the steam of your breath mounting to heaven.
“I know it’s late, but I can’t help being curious… How loud are the two of you in bed? I myself tend to sing up an entire opera and I was curious to see whether it’s an ainu thing or simply a… ‘me’-thing. All for science of course”
…Yes, reports your vocal acrobatics are well documented.
I confess that I myself abhor silent lovemaking. Not to disparage those moments that are quite and tremulous, of course– it needn’t be ear-shattering, just a few notes sweeten the victory and communicate one’s sentiment.
I’ve known men who think it beneath them to utter more than a grunt at climax; as if silent, joyless pistoning were their sex’s only duty… may they reap the disappointing harvest that they sow.
As you may know, my lord is not known for his restraint, nor his silence.
When I first came to him, the vulgarities he cried in pleasure half made me swoon (dignified servant of Aulë that I was); even now some of the things he says– some of the things I’ve said– in our intimacy make my face hot when I think of them outside the bedchamber. …Do you find that a certain level of crudeness brings out new heights of pleasure and unrestraint in your passion? I certainly have, though the phenomenon is strange to me.
But sweet hells, I live for it. He has filled my ear with the most delicious, unwholesome whispers, and the raw music of his bliss. I hope they can hear him on Taniquetil. I hope they are deafened by the pleasures we’ve found in exile.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 