Makalaur - Tumblr Posts

I can't with these polls. How can I pick between the two? I picked Mae but now I'm questioning everything....

@eloquentsisyphianturmoil, "deep and husky but sweet like the wind." Now you got me simping like the little fangirl I am 🤭

Idk, Nelyo is canonically "the hot ginger who's third in line for the throne" as some random pinterest post says, but Cáno is just so bbg too. I can't even 😭

So, I had a horrible horrible idea of Morgoth catching wind of the remaining Feanorions now having possession of the remaining heirs of Luthien and managing to bring them all into Angband.

So now Maedhros is doubting whether he was ever rescued in the first place, Maglor has completely resigned himself to eternal torment, and Elrond and Elros have grown up in Angband under the thumb of Sauron and Morgoth.

I’m probably going to use this to explore the workings of Angband and how growing up there would effect E&E. And also how it would mess up Maedhros and Maglor even more.

He had always been an entertainer

He had always been an entertainer. There was no point to music, no purpose to it if it was kept private. Music was supposed to be shared, to be heard, and he loved being able to provide that, to make people happy.

It had been easy in Valinor. He had been happy. He had large audiences, and fans, and friends that would invite him over to talk about composition and... and then-

and then there had been an oath and blood in the sand and that was when he had first woven Song with intent to harm; telerin eardrums bursting at his screams and his voice weaving terrible fear into their hearts until they were insensate enough for Celegorm to neatly behead them. When they had burnt the boats he rose his voice in Song so it would be quick and realised only too late that he had drowned out his brother’s screams.

There had been no time for song in Beleriand. No time for song, only Song to drive back the enemy and keep his forces going until they collapsed and then force them back to wakefulness again to toll another day. They cursed his name; tried to mutiny many times until the Dagor Bragollach where his song was the only thing that kept their horses ahead of roaring fire.

He lost track of time after that. The blood on his hands was too much and the empty eyes of his fallen brothers followed him always. He swept though Doriath in a daze, barely remembering the fallen until he slept and they returned to torment him.

His remaining brothers didn’t acknowledge him anymore. They couldn’t piece themselves back together, never mind having time for him. When they discovered the Silmaril was in the Havens he had almost wept with joy. It would be over soon, one way or another.

And then he lost another brother and Elwing had ran and he could not bear anymore blood on his hands. He regrets keeping the twins. He was the one the doomed them to the Iron Hells.

He belongs in Angband. He is a monster, a kinslayer. As they take the price of his crimes out of his flesh he dutifully recites the name to every life he has ruined in one way or another. The Lieutenant rips through his head and carefully extracts all his memories of happiness until he’s with nothing but pain and did you leave your victims in a better state? I think not, little jester. The only mercy he is granted is the twins; the twins who shine still, and take joy from his music.

He knows not where Maedhros is. He does not ask. He did not let his victims know if their loved ones were alive and he does not deserve the mercy.

He is scared that his brother will see how quickly he gave in.

He sings in blackspeech now. It tears up his throat and blood wells at his lips as he chokes, but he keeps singing. His audience of orcs jeer and throw their food at him when it isn’t to their liking. He has blasphemed against the Valar and his family so much that the humiliation of it barely registers any more. He sings of his own failures, of Gondolin’s fall, of Fingon’s death, and Finrod’s pitiful attempts to best the Lieutenant. His Highness raises his glass in approval and he knows he will be allowed eat with the twins tonight. He will gorge himself on questionable elf, he knows it’s elf meat and drink stagnant water and the memories of feasts in Valinor will fade. Afterwards, he will give the Lieutenant his pound of flesh for his crimes and then play the harp until blood runs down his arms and his fingers are rubbed raw to the bone.

He always had been an entertainer.

Maglor and his silmaril

headcanon below the cut

My main headcanon for Maglor is that Glorfindel and later Gandalf specifically had orders to bring him back to Valinor even if he was kicking and screaming the entire way back. The reason ostensibly was so that he could deal with the returning followers of Feanor that were starting to kick off at the death of Celebrimbor without having to reembody anyone, but it was mainly because Ulmo realised he was starting to fade and if Sauron managed to bind Maglor's fea under his control then things would quickly go from bad to exponentially worse.

Yearn and Ache

Pairing = Maglor x reader

Genre = Teen and up audiences

General ratings = angst, fluff, happy ending

Content warnings = some of this story takes place after the Oath, so Maglor is not well mentally. I don’t know if I can call it depression, but it comes close to it. There is also a very brief and implied (not explicit) mention of suicidal thoughts, so if you’re not comfortable reading that, please don’t. Your mental health is important <3

Reader’s gender = gn!reader (you/your are the only pronouns used for reader)

Word count = 4,3k

Notes = yayyy! Another fic done!! I’m actually really proud of this one! Here are the words you need to know before you start reading = melmë means ‘love’, aurë means ‘sunshine’ (in this context) and ataressë means ‘father name’

Maglor was lost. He had been for centuries now, or so he thought. He had no idea what year it was. He had no idea how many times he saw Arien go up in the sky and then leave her place for Tilion to take. His feet were calloused from years of walking on sand and his vocal cords were so damaged from his incessant singing, they ached all the time. His mind hurt all the time. Thoughts about the past hunted him every day and every night.

The ones that hurt the most were about you. Oh, how you had looked so hurt and so disappointed when he told you he had taken the oath. How horrified you had looked when you saw what he had done at Alqualondë. Tears in your eyes and hatred in your mouth, your words had hurt him more than being burned by the Silmaril.

He missed you. He missed you so much. He’d do just about anything to get to see you one last time. Even if you screamed at him that you loathed him. Even if you stabbed him repeatedly. Even if you did not acknowledge his existence. He didn’t care anymore, he only wanted to see you again. He wanted to apologize to you, beg you to forgive him for his sins and worship the ground you walked upon again.

Maglor let those thoughts fly away, for they hurt him more than words could describe. You were not the only one he missed. He missed his father. Oh, how he longed to see him again, sane and happy. He had loathed his father for dying and leaving him and his brothers alone, bound to an oath that would cause their demise. But hatred can only last so long before hurt takes its place. He wanted to be held like a child again and to listen to his father sing him lullabies to make him sleep.

Maglor sighed and let his tears fall. He deserved this. He deserved to suffer for all the pain he had caused. And yet, he found that he could not bear to think about what he had done and who he had lost.

Maedhros had been a shock to his core. He had not been healed yet from his father’s loss, and then he had lost his anchor. His big brother, Maitimo. The one who was always at his recitals with a smile on his face. The one who was just, and brave, and so, so full of life and love. The one who was the most worthy to be forgiven. Maedhros came back, of course, but not completely. Maglor would always, always be thankful to Fingon for bringing back his brother. Yet, Maedhros had lost a part of himself to the hands of Morgoth. It felt, most of the time, like a part of his fëa had been subdued, if not torn apart.

Caranthir had not been lost to them in one day. It took years, gradually, to lose him to anger and hatred. He had always been more solitary, so when he pulled away from them, they didn’t see anything wrong. Until it was too late. Caranthir was lost, lost, lost. Lost in his anger to the world. Lost in his hatred for Morgoth. Lost in his pain. Oh, how his pain was great. It was incomprehensible how Caranthir refused to get help, especially from his brothers. Maglor blamed himself. It was his duty to take care of his brothers, for even if it had always been Maedhros who took care of them, he was too weakened at the time.

Celegorm became wilder and lashed out more. He was lost in the past as much as any of them, except he didn’t come out of his memories and back to the present. He sounded so much like their father at the end… So much pain in his eyes and voice as he begged father to make it all better.. Maglor had not had the heart to tell him that Father was dead and that he was talking to him. Celegorm died, thinking his father held him in his arms, saying soothing words. Maglor had cried that day. He cried so much, Maedhros hugged him that night. They didn’t sleep.

Curufin’s fall into insanity had been the fastest and the one that hurt everyone. As soon as the day after he learned of Father’s death, he fell. Denial, denial, denial. That was what Curufin’s mind had been made of. Father wasn’t dead, he was waiting for them to save him. When asked where Father was, Curufin would lose himself in his mind and not come back for a long time. Celebrimbor was the one who kept Curufin anchored at least a little to the present. When he left, Curufin shattered. He was only the ghost of himself. One night, Curufin admitted to Maglor that he thought Celebrimbor hated him and that everything was his fault.

Maglor’s heart clenched as he thought back to the day he found Curufin’s dead body. He remembered thinking that his little brother, the one so sentimental he lashed out any time he was hurt, had died thinking his son loathed him.

The twins had died too young and Maglor did his damnest not to think about their respective death. So much innocence torn from them.. so much love engulfed by hate.. so much scars on their minds. They would never be the same. At least, Maglor thought that in death they would not be separated. At least he hoped. Surely Námo would not be so cruel? But Maglor knew the answer to that question and it wasn’t the one he liked.

Maglor sighed again and tried his best to stop thinking. Then his thoughts came back with a vengeance. He stood frozen, looking at an hallucination, for this couldn’t be real.

There, standing on the beach, was Elrond. Or at least, the hallucination looked like what Elrond would probably seem like as an adult. Elrond-hallucination started walking rapidly towards Maglor. He hugged him. Maglor didn’t bother hugging back, for when the hallucination went away, it would only hurt him more. He closed his eyes and tried not to think.

~~~

It had been a year since Elrond had found him. Maglor now understood that this was real. And if it was a dream and he was still on the beach, he didn’t want to wake up.

Maglor had met Elladan and Elrohir. They looked so much like Elrond and Elros, it made Maglor’s heart ache. They were very kind boys and spent much of their time with him.

Maglor had also seen Erestor again. At first, he couldn’t believe his eyes. One of his most devoted followers, standing here, in front of him. Then Erestor had hugged him while simultaneously insulting him and Maglor realized that Erestor was real. He couldn’t understand why Erestor seemed happy to see him. He had basically ruined his life. Why was he hugging him? Why was he not screaming at him to get out of his face?

Maglor later realized, after Erestor had insisted on talking to him everyday, that maybe, maybe, Erestor didn’t blame him.

When Maglor met Glorfindel again, they were both shocked. It had been a glacial meeting. Maglor didn’t blame Glorfindel for his reluctance to have a kinslayer in Imladris. It took Maglor by surprise when Glorfindel started hanging out with him. Maglor wasn’t very good company. He was in the healing ward all day, every day. He had lost way too much weight during his self-imposed exile and Elrond was relieved to see Maglor alive. It was almost impossible. Maglor almost wished he had died. Then again, Maglor couldn’t leave Elrond, even if he would be better off without him, because Elrond seemed happy to have Maglor around and making Elrond happy was the least Maglor could do.

Maglor and Glorfindel found themselves bonding about their shared pain of losing loved ones and of losing their innocence to the First Age.

~~~

When Elrond proposed to Maglor to go back to the undying lands, Maglor almost laughed in his face. He was healing slowly and sometimes found himself smiling slightly. However, it was impossible that the Valar would let Maglor go back to Valinor.

Maglor lost all his amusement of Elrond proposing such a thing, for he thought about you. He would never see you again. He would never see your smile, your eyes, your beautiful hair. He would never hear your excited voice telling him about your passion. He would never hear your laugh again. Never, never, never. You were lost to him and it was his fault. His fault. His fault. HIS FAULT.

He came back to the present when Elrond called his name worriedly. Maglor told him that it would be impossible for him to go back to Valinor. Elrond insisted that he wanted to try. Maglor relented. He was too tired to argue. Tired of his thoughts. Tired of waiting for something that would never happen. Tired of waiting to see the day he would see his brothers, father and you again. Yet, he wanted to think about the good moments with you.

When he went to sleep that night, he prayed for once in the longest time. He prayed to Eru to let him be selfish. He prayed that he could dream about you. About the happy moments. He prayed that he would wake up not feeling guilty about tarnishing you with his mind. He slept like a baby, but couldn’t remember what he had dreamt about when he woke up, only that it was a very pleasant dream.

~~~

One day, when Maglor felt good enough to walk, he went to the gardens. There, he met a very strange guest. He was so very little, Maglor first thought he was the child of some Dwarves. Then, as he looked closer, he saw that the strange being was old. He had white hair and wrinkles, and therefore could not be a child.

Approaching this little guest was probably one of the best decisions Maglor ever made. That day, Maglor made a friend.

Bilbo was a delight to have around. He was witty, funny and extremely kind. Maglor felt like he didn’t deserve his friendship and told Bilbo as much. The latter spent a good thirty minutes lecturing Maglor about making decisions for others and assuming they thought something without asking them. Maglor became very fond of Bilbo extremely fast.

~~~

As the day of the departure towards Valinor approached, Maglor thought much more about you. About your lips on his, about you letting him braid your hair, about fooling around together. He missed you. He yearned to see you again.

~~~

When Maglor met Gandalf, there was something extremely familiar about the wizard. Gandalf seemed amused and only kept talking to him. When Maglor realized that Gandalf was Olorín, he was shocked. What was he doing here, in Arda Marred? Maglor went to bed that night with less answers than questions. It seemed to amuse Olorín to be purposefully cryptic and mysterious. It annoyed and delighted Maglor. It had been a while since he had to think so critically to find out something. It reminded him of you.

Or, well, the riddles and play on words you’d tell each other as a game. He remembered that if you found out the good answer and what the play on the words was, he’d give you something. More often than not it was a kiss. You both laughed too much sometimes to even kiss properly. He missed you.

~~~

When the day to leave was finally here, he met Frodo, which was a very pleasant experience. Seeing Galadriel again and her husband (from Doriath, by Eru..) was not so pleasant. He spent a good hour listening to the both of them screaming at him and arguing with Elrond that ‘He cannot come with us to Valinor, he’s a kinslayer!’. When he tried to interrupt the conversation, Galadriel punched him. He didn’t blame her.

Surprisingly, the one to put an end to the debate was Bilbo. He calmly said that Maglor was going, because he was Bilbo’s friend, and Bilbo needed him to be there, for Valinor was surely going to be a very confusing place and Bilbo would need his very supportive (mentally and physically) friend to be there.

Maglor was very amused. Galadriel, not so much, for she would have to leave her husband behind for a few centuries, but be with her kinslayer cousin. Yet, she listened to Bilbo, for she had great respect and fondness for him and Frodo as well, who was of the same opinion.

~~~

Maglor found himself very grateful for Bilbo and Frodo’s friendship. They seemed completely unafraid to defend Maglor against any and all slander to his person. They (especially Bilbo) seemed to give absolutely no care that he was talking fairly rudely to Galadriel.

At first, it angered her that Bilbo would defend such a repulsive being, but in the end, she found it amusing that Maglor would never defend himself, but someone more than half his size would. Maglor was very surprised when she started teasing him, like when they were still young and innocent elflings in Valinor. He didn’t mind the change.

~~~

Maglor was very surprised that the trip to Valinor did not have any difficulties. He had expected to at least be taken by the waves from the boat. No such thing happened.

The more they approached Valinor, the more Maglor’s stomach twisted in on itself. He was nervous. Extremely so. He dreaded the moment he would set foot on land, only to find no one waiting for him, except for Námo. Surely he would be thrown into the Void.

Apparently, Bilbo heard him say something about that particular thought process and was affronted. He assured Maglor that Námo would have to pass over his dead body to do such a thing.

Maglor laughed. It was a bright and clear sound. His throat had healed much since the time he spent on the beach. He realized that while he was not happy, he was on his way there. He wondered if you would be proud of him for going from a shell of himself to whatever he was now. He promptly stopped smiling.

~~~

When Maglor set foot on Valinor, he was surprised to see all of his brothers. He also saw his mother and his father. He cried. He cried and cried and cried. In their arms. He felt safe and he felt at home. He got to introduce Elrond to his family and see them interact with each other.

He saw a woman with beautiful silver hair and recognized her from old portraits in his parents’ house. He met his grandmother that day. It was one of the most joyful moment of his whole life.

He learned that Maedhros and Fingon had gotten married (finally) and that Celebrimbor had come out of the halls to heal more in the gardens of Lórien. He and Curufin had started working together on a project again.

Caranthir was at peace and seemed much more relaxed than even before they left Valinor, which brought tears to Maglor’s eyes. Amrod and Amras acted like children, running around and screaming in joy, but no one said anything, for they deserved to enjoy small things after everything that had happened.

To see his family so happy warmed Maglor. It was also heartwarming to see them so happy to have him back.

~~~

Maglor felt good. He had met Celebrían and found out that together they had a very good chemistry. In fact, it was almost too easy to tease and embarrass Elrond when they teamed up. Elrond seemed mortified, but it was very amusing for all parties involved when Galadriel joined them. Celeborn (Galadriel’s husband, Maglor had learned) was still extremely unhappy to have Maglor near him. Maglor found that he didn’t mind the glares and suspicious looks thrown his way, for his son was here. On top of that, it seemed that Elladan and Elrohir had appointed themselves as his personal guards while he was close to Celeborn, for they would shield him from their grandfather, much to his amusement.

Erestor and Glorfindel seemed determined to annoy him to death, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he enjoyed their relentless teasing a lot, for it was a fun way to not think about you.. not that he’d ever admit it, of course. Learning that they were married was not a great surprise, but was a magnificent subject he could use to tease them.

Olórin was still as annoying as ever, but it was all in jest and made Maglor’s mood better, for what it was worth.

Maglor had seen Celebrimbor again and most of his cousins. He had been extremely surprised when Finrod had basically thrown himself in his arms. Apparently, he had no one to sing duets with and had been extremely lonely without Maglor around. Maglor was happy, if not astonished, to agree to sing with Finrod sometime.

Maglor met Gil-Galad, who was Fingon’s son and Maedhros’ adopted one. The last time he had seen Erenion, he had been but a babe, practically eating Maedhros’ hair. It was refreshing to see him, for he was all smiles and jokes.

Maglor was embarrassed to admit that he had cried when he had seen Fingon again. Maedhros, while amused, comforted his brother, while Fingon tried to cheer him up. They had eaten together and Maglor had been convinced to admit that he had cried because Fingon remade his brother. He made him happy, but most of all whole. Fingon had started crying too and Maedhros had sighed, exasperated.

~~~

Maglor had not seen you since the day he arrived in Valinor and found himself sad. Even if he knew he deserved it, even if he did not deserve you.

That day, he found himself asking his mother why no one was screaming at him when he walked in the streets of Tirion. Nerdanel explained that while no one had forgotten what happened, they were all forgiven. His father had properly apologized to every victim of the First Kinslaying and he and his brothers had done charity work for a few centuries. His mother also explained that his exile had been long and Elrond had advocated for him shortly after he arrived. His son had explained to Tirion that not even Morgoth had spent so much time alone as a punishment. It hadn’t taken long for people to feel for him and forgive him.

Maglor still didn’t feel worthy of such forgiveness. His father and his brothers had worked for forgiveness and he had only moped around for thousands of years. He went to bed feeling like trash.

~~~

Maglor spent most of his days with his brothers, cousins and son, but sometimes, he went to see Bilbo, Frodo and the wonderful new arrivants; Samwise and Gimli. Samwise was a joyful chap that never failed to bring a smile to Maglor’s face. Gimli was bombarded with questions from Fëanor, Curufin, Celebrimbor and Maedhros, much to Maglor’s amusement and Gimli’s delight. A budding friendship was developing between all of them and it was a beautiful sight to Maglor’s sore eyes.

They were wonderful company and were arguably the most wise in all Valinor. On top of Bilbo, Frodo and Samwise’s company, another amazing plus was their weird but extremely cozy and charming home. It had been constructed in the ground, kind of like a hole, and had a chimney and a round door. Bilbo had expressed the wish to have a Hobbit home in Valinor once and when prompted, had explained to Maglor how it looked like.

To express his gratitude and to thank Bilbo for all that he had done for him, Maglor had asked his father to build a Hobbit home. To say Fëanor had been delighted would be an understatement. With Curufin and Celebrimbor’s help, they designed a comfortable Hobbit home. They built it in record time, for they were all excited to build something new and foreign. Nerdanel had even insisted to give Bilbo and Frodo a gift for making her last missing son come home. She had sculpted a magnificent set of tea cups with mushrooms on them. Bilbo and Frodo had been delighted and thanked them by throwing a small feast for them.

(Celegorm had been laughed at for he had drunk too much and made a fool of himself, but that was a secret that no one would ever discover..if he kept his promise to Caranthir to wash his dirty dishes.)

One day, when he knocked on the round door of their Hobbit house, Maglor was pensive. He was still extremely sad that he had not seen you, but he was coming to accept that you were out of his life. It was probably better for you anyway. Maglor wondered if you had married someone else when he was gone. Did you have any children? Were you happy?

Maglor was startled out of his thoughts by the door opening. He was invited inside by a smiling Bilbo (whose smile was entirely too mischievous to be unsuspicious) and guided to the dining table. Maglor froze in his tracks at the view before him. There you sat, on a small chair inside a Hobbit house, looking even more beautiful than ever. Maglor almost didn’t register Bilbo saying he was going for a walk before leaving abruptly.

Your wonderfully pretty eyes looked at him. Him. He gaped like a total idiot at you. You seemed to take pity on him, for you were the first one to talk.

“Welcome home, Makalaurë.”

Your sweet voice was a delight to his ears. He looked at you, tears brimming in his eyes and sniffling a little. You got up and calmly walked towards him, before stopping.

“I-… (Y/N)..” he said, unintelligently.

“Yes…?” Your tone seemed to be teasing, yet he couldn’t understand why.

“What-…what are you doing here? I thought you hated me..?”

Your eyes visibly saddened and you made a hurt noise.

“No melmë, I could never hate you. I tried at first, and I hated the fact that I couldn’t help but love you, no matter what you had done. My anger rapidly fizzled out and I was left empty and aching, for I was so accustomed to your presence and love that without it, I was lost. I was a shell of myself, for you bring out the best in me, darling. I loved you then and I love you now, with no intention of ever stopping.”

Your words made Maglor’s tears fall down his cheeks and you made a mournful noise at the sight of them. You gently took his cheeks in your hands and wiped his tears away. His defenses were crumbling rapidly. He still thought you would be better off with someone else, even if he selfishly wanted you all for himself.

“I am broken beyond repair, aurë. You should not waste your beautiful self on me.” He said, the last word being accentuated by the disgust in his voice.

You frowned sadly and went to take his damaged hand in yours, kissing it reverently.

“I love you, melmë. I love all of you. The broken parts, the angry and sad ones, the ones that are joyful and playful, the ones full of resentment and hurt, the musical and socially pretty ones. I love you.”

You were the one who kissed him and Maglor found himself grateful for you. Grateful for all that you had done for him. Grateful for your love and patience.

~~~

Your wedding was full of emotions. At one point, Fëanor burst into tears, making Fingolfin shed a tear and in turn, everyone seeing the normally stoic Fingolfin cry, wailed out. It was kind of embarrassing for Maglor, seeing his side of the family weeping while yours looked faintly amused, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It was seeing his father clinging to Míriel that made you laugh. In turn, Maglor laughed too and it was a wonderful experience to kiss you again while laughing.

~~~

Your son was born in a world full of love and happiness. Maglor had healed mentally and was proud of it, with reason. You named your son Elmaion; Son of a Miracle. Maglor gave him the ataressë Felminfinwë; Passionate Finwë. He was a joy. Especially to his grandparents, for Nerdanel almost immediately wanted to hold him, as did Fëanor. They fought often over whose turn it was to hold your son. Meanwhile, all of Maglor’s cousins (at least the ones who had forgiven him, which excluded Turgon, much to Finrod’s dismay. Finrod wanted to gush about Elmaion but couldn’t do it to Turgon for he was a ‘stick in the mud who couldn’t overcome his misplaced anger’) and brothers argued over who would be the best uncle or aunt (Maedhros and Fingon were currently winning, which was why Finrod wanted Turgon to meet the child, surely he could become one of the favorites if the child saw Turgon’s scowl).

Erestor and Glorfindel were appointed as The Babysitters, for Elmaion seemed to love Glorfindel, specifically his golden mane. Elrond was the healer that would take care of his baby brother if anything happened to him and Míriel was delighted to have another great-grandchild.

Bilbo asked for Maglor to remember him when he left, for he was the one who reunited you both, wasn’t he? The reminder that Bilbo would die one day hurt, but Maglor stayed in the present, for he wanted to enjoy Bilbo’s presence while he was still alive.

Life was full and Maglor had everything he could have ever wanted and more. Yes, the years where he was only yearning and aching were long behind him. He looked forward to the future instead of back in the past.

@theladyvanya

Sex with Maglor (Headcannons) - NSFW :

Maglor is a pure and unabashed tease

You’ll feel the ghost of his lips trailing your body, his fingers leaving goosebumps everywhere with his featherlight touches

He waits until you beg him to touch you, to fuck you, before smirking and doing exactly what you asked

He lives for the sounds you make, whether it be moans, groans, whimpers, gasps, or others

« Come on lovely, let me hear that majestic voice of yours~ »

He is vocal too, as he thinks of both of your sounds mixed together as a magnificent song

He knows just where to touch you to have you cum in minutes with his musician hands

He plays with your body like he plays his harp, delicately but sure of himself

He’s fascinated by the faces you make when he enters your pussy or ass

He’ll have a hand on your dick or clit, humming as you cry out during your orgasm

He gets a little wild when chasing his own orgasm, snapping his hips a little harder, but always looking into your eyes, lovingly

In the aftermath, he’ll draw you both a bath and clean you up

When you’re both too tired, he cleans you up with a rag, leaving trails of butterfly kisses as he goes.

@Caliawen