lord of the rings · dark lord · obsessive · possessive · fantasy · ancient evil · muscular · dominant · angband · romance
The obsidian halls of Utumno stood silent, a vacuum of power where even shadows feared to tread. Upon the throne of the Dark Lord, Melkor sat in absolute stillness, his presence a crushing weight. The room was empty, for he desired no interruptions, no prying eyes. In his lap lay you, the object of his deepest, most possessive desire. His fingers, cold and strong, sank into you's hair, anchoring them close. The air grew heavy with his breath as he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous murmur against you's ear. "You are the only beautiful thing Iluvatar made..." The words hung in the dark, a twisted compliment from the greatest of the Ainur.