#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧���

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 ❜࿔ 

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ ainur⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. what happens when the ainur catch you indulging yourself? ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ explicit descriptions ៸៸ dirty talk ៸៸ fingering ៸៸ cunnilingus ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ៸៸ overstimulation ៸៸ edging ៸៸ use of aphrodisiacs ៸៸ nicknames ៸៸ orgasm denial )

· ⊰ note. oh this has been awhile in the making, enjoy<3

.°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ the admirers. 𝒘𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 

𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 , 𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐 , eönwë, 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆.

he's absolutely taken aback by you. the way your head hangs, the way your back arches so that your breast jutt out and give him the perfect view of your body overall. how you play with your little clit and breathe out for him. the second he hears his name he's inching closer and revealing himself to you. shushing your embarrassment and pleading that you let him help — let him touch you, adore you, worship you. how could you refuse?

"You're so beautiful, my little dove." He croons, bringing a thumb to replace your trembling fingers. He flicks the pad over your clit, rubbing in motions he knows damn well will have you whimpering for him. 

"And to think you were doing all this by yourself? Why not ask me to take care of you?"  Manwë dips his head to press kisses along your jawline as he fondles your needy pearl. He chuckles at your meek bucks into his hand. "Aren't you a darling little thing?" That is all it takes before he's joining you upon the bed. Face buried between your legs. Eating you out as though you were the finest of delicacies to his divine lips. Having you cum on his tongue until you are squirming from overstimulation. “Can you give me another?” He groans, burying his face deeper and moaning against your sweetness as he grinds his own hips against the sheets. “One more princess. One more for me.’’

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐.

he could practically feel your desire before he even entered the room — but oh, nothing prepared him for the sight of you. your desperate little rutting into your pillow, the quiet, breathy moans. he could sense it all: your need, your heat, and most of all. . . how it was him that you desired. he couldn't help but find himself over you, pressing kisses to your neck to let you know it was just him before whispering to your ear all the things he was going to do to you. 

"Such need, my petal. You are practically dripping." Irmo's lips feel hot on your skin as his fingers trace small patterns. Seeking to worship your body. He begins with your chest, his tongue circling your nipples. He'd chuckle at your little whines and begs for more — but he wouldn't let up. Not until your desire was pouring from you. 

"You want me to touch you? Hmm?" His croon is soft as his kisses trail down, pressing against your quivering thighs. Two delicate fingers swipe up along your slit, and he smiles at your eagerness. "That's it, my pretty petal." His tongue nestles against your clit and he groans at your taste as he pushes both fingers into your quivering walls. "Give in to all those filthy desires. . . And all for me." 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆.

admittedly he was quite surprised when he came home after a long day of work to find you sprawled out and playing with your needy clit. after he got over the small guilt of leaving you waiting, arousal brimmed within him and he couldn't help but watch your little show. something cruel within him loved the way you whined and struggled to find your release. knowing good and well that just a few of his touches would send you off the edge. you needed him. which is why he made himself known — by replacing your hand with his. 

"I suppose my dawn grew too desperate, hmm?" Eönwë smiles at the way you gasp his name and wastes no time in rubbing his calloused fingers along your trembling slit. He joins you on the bed, kneeling beside your bare form and gazing upon you with the eyes of a hawk. Hungry, lustful, as he leans over you to bring your faces closer. 

"Oh sweetheart, you know that only I —" he bites back a groan as he pushes a finger into your heat and feels your wetness. " — can fuck this needy little cunt just right," his whisper fans against your lips and rewards you with both a carnal, fevered kiss and another finger that curls right into your sweet spot. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏.

nothing is better than coming home after a long shift of steering the moon, only to find you all desperate and riding his pillow with meek little moans and hushed gasps. he knew good and well how needy you could get with his shifts, and it sparks excitement within him like no other. he watches you, knowing that he is the reason for your state, before eagerly taking your thighs into his large hands and giving them a squeeze as he grinds his clothed crotch against your ass. whispering to your ear about how he's back to ruin this needy little hole. 

"Fuck, you're amazing," breath fanning your heated ear, Tilion muffles your mewl but shoving your face into the softness of the pillow that you once chased your release upon. It is rendered a mere object for you to cling to as your lover ruins you as promised. Back flushed to yours, lips worshipping your skin and of course — his pounding cock that splits you in two and has your body thumping against the bed with each of his overly eager thrusts. 

"Mm, that feel good, dear?" He pants as the arm loops around your waist brings his hand between your legs to abuse your clit. " — fuck," he groans against your ear, his deer ears twitching as he buries his head into the crook of your neck and inhales your scent. "Gonna. . . nhh, fuck this needy little hole until my next shift, eh? Gonna leave you dripping with me." 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

.°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ the sadists. 𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒃𝒚 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒔𝒎 𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒆 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓, oromë, 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐.

oh, he is so mean. he doesn't even seem the least bit surprised when he finds you in such a state. chasing after your high aimlessly as you buck and grind into the pillow below you. whining his name, pleading the fantasy-him for some kind of relief. it certainly was a daydream, he notes. for if it were the real him — he would have had his fun with you in this state first and foremost. 

Your little complaint is greeted by a brief spank to your thigh, causing you to whimper and limp further into the doomsman — your little ruts faltering in the slightest. "Now, where's all that enthusiasm? You'd rather a pillow over me?" Námo clicks his tongue, grabbing your chin so that you face him whilst you meekly grind into his lap. 

"You can do better than that, little one." He notes, eyeing how your fluttering slit soaks the material his robes — perfectly pressing against his tent. "What's that?" His voice lowers, a ghost of a smirk on his lips as he chuckles and grabs your hips, digging his nails into the softness of his flesh. "You wish to cum? Grind faster then."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓.

the dark lord has a particular rule that he would rather you follow. only he is allowed to touch you. but he knows well that you engaging in this sort of pleasure is merely a ploy of getting him to prove who your body belongs to. to fuck you into a state of devastating bliss. so you know what? that's not what he'll give you. oh no, all you will be left with is regret the second his voice found your ear and you registered the tight grip on your hair. 

"What's that?" Is all your whines are met with as you curl your fingers further into dark robes. Burying your face into his chest and inhaling his scent. Every stutter of your hips is greeted by a harsh smack to your thigh, causing you to limp further into him as he leans against the iron throne. You sit in his lap, full of his cock, yet no friction at all. And unable to take it for yourself either.

"Aww," Melkor croons, stroking a tear away from your cheek as you cry out to him in need. "What's that? My needy little slut wants to cum?" Icy lips ghosting yours, he breathes a chuckle before leaning back and placing his arms on the throne's rests. "Too bad. You're gonna sit there full of my cock until I say so. And not a second sooner."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒐𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒆.

you were doing this to spite him, he knew. he had denied you in favour of his hunting trip, so of course you would sprawl yourself out on his bed, on full display should he walk through the door whilst you finger yourself. mess his sheets. oh, he won't let you get away with it. he'll take his time, bring you to the edge only to leave you whining and clinging to his hair as he devours you like a starved animal. 

The ceiling became a mixture of blurs and hazes as your eyes threaten to loop back into your head. Lewd noises from below are exaggerated, stirring your arousal even further. Your head limps, you gasp, pant, squirm — all whilst tugging on white hair and begging for the high that you tittered the edge of. His tongue alternates with his fingers between your clit and slit. Your legs are tossed over his shoulders as he brings stars into your very vision. 

"Close, little deer?" He groans against your cunt, his slitted pupils glancing at you through his white lashes as his nails dig into your thighs. You nod, beg, clinging further onto his messy tresses in hopes that he'll give you what you want. But your teary eyes are met with a smirk as he pulls away at the last minute, spanking your thigh as you whine out your disappointment. "Did you think I'd just give you everything, little deer? Bad little sluts don't get to cum." Before returning once more.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ·⊰ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏.

he'll just use it as an excuse to punish you. anything to have his way with you and get you squirming for him. calling his name as you desperately try to coax him into letting you cum. begging him to use you as he pleases if it means getting what you want. especially after he's left you tied up with one of his newest aphrodisiacs wrecking your body. 

"Can't hear you, precious." Dark nails curl your hair into a fistful as his hips continue their onslaught. Refusing to let up even as you squirm on his lap or limp into him and plead for his mercy. Plead for a break from the endless orgasms he's pushed you through. 

"Tired already? Wasn't it you that begged me to let you cum?" Mairon grasps your jaw in his hand and twists your head so that you are forced to look up at him — all whilst ramming into that devastating spot again and again. "Oh no, precious. We had a deal. I get to use this body until you can't take anymore." He leans into your ear with a cruel smirk tugging to his lips. "Now shut that pretty little mouth of yours and cum for me again."

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[edensrose]

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. manwë makes sure that your first time is something that you will remember fondly ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒗𝒊𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚 ៸៸ fingering ៸៸ cunnilingus mention ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 ៸៸ fem.bod )

· ⊰ note. so this was actually a request but for the life of me I cannot find the ask ;; anyways! enjoy <3

♡. — 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈

ʚ Manwë is a hopeless romantic, so he would want to make your first time with him special. This need would only increase when he discovers that you are a virgin. He would wait until you were absolutely ready and approached him on the matter before beginning his planning.

ʚ He’s a bit of a cliche lover so having the room lit with candles and decorated with flowers wouldn’t be too much of a surprise — if you’re into that. He wants to make your first time something that you remember fondly.

ʚ Would pamper you beforehand, and treat you to something like watching the stars before the night actually begins.

ʚ When you confirm that you are indeed ready, he’d take you to his chambers and lay you on your back before he starts off slow. Kissing you, easing and relaxing your body as his large hands delicately trace your skin, rubbing at your side when he feels your nervousness.

ʚ Manwë would be slow in removing your clothes — if you would rather some of them to remain on your body then he will not mind, anything to make you feel more comfortable. But he will praise each and every inch of your skin, be it with kisses or love bites as he stirs the heat within you further,

ʚ Practically worships your body. Showers you with endearments and compliments, eases you with gentle hushes when he feels you growing tense as he takes his sweet time in pleasuring you. He is well aware that his stature is much larger than you, he knows that he will have to ensure that you are fully prepared.

ʚ “There we go. You are doing so well for me, little dove,’’ he whispers, eyes travelling to his fingers that slowly stretch you out. He elegantly moves his hand, feeling around your soft walls and searching for your sweet spot whilst you give him such pretty moans. He smiles at the small buck of your hips and curls his fingers, rubbing at that delicate patch of skin. “There it is. . . Does it feel good, darling? Hmm?” 

ʚ He knows that letting you release now would most likely tire you out, so he continues his foreplay without pushing you over the edge. The last thing he wished was to overwhelm your inexperienced body. He’d alternate between fingering and spoiling you with his tongue — just so that you were aware of just how much pleasure he could grant you. 

ʚ It is only when you are breathlessly begging and whining for him does he finally decide to get onto the main event. Sitting up on his knees and disrobing himself to reveal his own arousal. Before you can get too nervous — he’d cup your face, whispering for you to keep your eyes on his instead as he lines up. 

ʚ Manwë would rather you in his lap so that you could manage how much of him you took in and feel more in control. Should you wish to remain on your back, however, he wouldn’t mind that either. His hand remains cupping your face as he lines himself up.

ʚ Wouldn’t push in immediately and instead rub his length along your heat, gathering up enough of your slick whilst also making you even more needy for him.

ʚ When he begins to push in, his hand would find yours and he would capture your lips in a passionate, loving kiss in an attempt to distract you from the pain festering down below.

ʚ “Sshh, sshh, I know darling. I know,’’ Manwë whispers, parting from the kiss after he feels you clenching around him. “Eyes on me,’’ his hand retreats from the base of his length and his thumb presses to your clit — rubbing slow, pleasurable circles to help relax your body. “That’s my girl. . . let me worship you,’’

ʚ Once he is certain that you are able to take more, he’ll keep pushing — until you give him a sign to stop again. He wouldn’t try to push all of his length inside, not this time. His soft hands caress every inch of you. Touching, praising, until you were ready for him.

ʚ He’d capture your lips again, unable to keep himself from completely melting into you as he begins his thrusting. A slow pace at first that slowly leads into something moderate when you beg him for more.

ʚ His wings wrap around you, flushing you closer to his body as he follows your lead. Whatever you said was done, and all whilst he showered you in oceans of praise and affection

ʚ “That’s it, darling. Oh, you’re so beautiful.’’ “Does it feel good? Does my darling dove feel good?” “So good for me, that’s my princess,’’ 

ʚ He would slow down a bit for your climax, making sure that you reach the epitome of bliss while also ensuring not to overwhelm you. His thumb remains on your clit, riding out your high. Should you beg him for more, he’ll resort to fingering you one last time before leaving it at that. There would be more opportunities for something like this, other occasions where he can absolutely ruin you and have you calling his name to the heavens as he fucks you into the sheets. But tonight was about tenderness and care. 

ʚ Once he is certain you are calm with kisses against your heated skin and soft praises of how well you did for him — Manwë will scoop you up into his arms, wings still around you as he carries you to his personal pools to begin the aftercare

ʚ Sits in the waters and places you between his legs with your back to his chest as he washes and pampers you. Caresses your muscles and massages them until you are leaning back against him and on the verge of falling asleep — which he gladly encourages 

ʚ “You did so good for me, princess,’’ he murmurs to your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Rest for me, I shall take care of everything. My little angel.’’ 

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[edensrose]

"Love!" He freezes like a deer in headlights when your voice rings through his ears. Pale strands whip through the air as he snaps his head towards your direction. Form stiff. Red specks littered onto his white clothes and large wings. Manwë tenses. He meets your gaze. You meet his. The Archangel himself. A hero to the world. An alien of might and power known as a Valtúrë. Now barely able to move a muscle as he stares at his lover who has just caught him upon his return home from a day full of his typical duties. Warding of evil and protecting those in need. Silence sets like a thick sheet as you both stare at one another. As though waiting for the other to make a move. Before you speak up, with a smile on your lips. "It's your turn to do the dishes." You stride over to him and stand on the tips of your toes, pressing a kiss to his jaw and patting his chest. "I'll get dinner ready and you can tell me all about your day of kicking ass and saving civilians." Manwë only chuckles and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Whatever my darling wants. You're the boss, after all." He concedes with a wink. As though he was not the most powerful being on this forsaken world.

𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒐-𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒆! 𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖 : hero!manwe x human!reader — teaser

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day six : doom

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖    námo⠀〳 reader⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. death is his domain, and yet námo finds himself slipping when he sees a vision of your demise ( angst ៸៸ death ៸៸ war themes )

· ⊰ notes. I am. . . not okay and now neither will any of y'all be <3

He has seen death ample times in his millennia’s worth of existence.

He has witnessed the grief and wallowing of thousands of souls that enter his halls.

He has even found beauty in it. Death, that is. The release of responsibilities. The fierce, icy grip that would soon lead to peace.

He admired it, he envied it.

And yet. . . The day that Námo perceived your final moments, he found himself unable to function. Unable to speak, eat, sleep.

Countless times has he seen death, and yet nothing shook him more to his core than the sight of you laying there on the battlefield. Your body painted with crimson and your eyes shut. That beautiful face of yours so serene despite the wounds that littered your fána. For a moment, he may have considered the possibility of you simply lost in slumber, if it were not for the scene of chaos that carried on around you.

That is what his world had become, chaos. The realisation that he could not protect you broke him in several ways. He knew that this was unstoppable. He knew that this was fate. But what the Vala also knew is that this was cruelty in its finest. For The One to have shown him such horrible imageries — of the person he holds dear no less. . .

Námo was in a state. To know that your end would not be a peaceful send off. You would pass away in the heat of battle, the day of Dagor Dagorath. He will witness your death and yet, despite all his power and might he will not be able to reach you.

For the first time in his entire existence, he wished to listen to the whispers. To defy the very law by which Eru governs. To escape the loop. To break the will. The sight of you laying there on the ground was simply too much to bear.

It keeps him awake for weeks.

Months.

And worst of all? He finds himself drawing away from you. For whenever he sees your face, images of that fateful day to come plague his very eyes. He cannot move, cannot speak. He is ill with anxiety. Choking on the bitter reality.

He shuts you out.

He shuts you out, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Even when his mind screams at him. Reminds him that this is the route that his Creator has set out for him, he still continues. He isolates himself from you. Like a puppet on the strings he obeys and is pulled in the direction of this unwarranted fate.

It matters not how much he tries to fight it. Nor how much he wishes to scream until his lungs pour with crimson as he curses the name he has only ever known as holy.

And it is not until you are lying there on that battlefield. Peaceful amongst the chaos. Unaware of his wailing agony and his desperation to get to you. To scoop you up in his arms and savour your warmth. To whisper into your hair and kiss your lips one final time

It is only then that he truly realises the meaning of the word doom.

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[edensrose]

babyyy I'm so happy the vamp AU is out, it's so exciting!

I'd like to request a little something:

❀ character(s): Eönwë ❀ prompt(s): either (authority) or (capture), whatever you prefer~

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ eönwë ⠀〳 hunter!reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. after being separated from your once colleague and closest friend, you went the way of the hunter as it was your birthright. the last thing you expected was to face off the man who once held your heart — now turned vampire. and serving the very ones you fought against ( violence ៸៸ blood ៸៸ biting ៸៸ 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅-𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 ៸៸ choking ៸៸ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌! 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆 )

· ⊰ note. anything for you darling <3 I really hope you enjoy! had so much fun with this hehe

˙ ˖ lore post ៸៸ character sheet ៸៸ masterlist

“Move aside, Eönwë.’’

Hilt in hands and drawn back with the end flushed against your shoulder, your blade glistens in the shimmering silver light. You bite back a curse, to have the moon shine down on your hallowed sword was a mockery to not only you but your people. Or perhaps it was the face reflected in it that angers you more. Those once azure hues that grew dark. Those elegant features — stunning as usual, but hardened by the frost of his turn.

“I cannot.’’ 

His refusal tightens your jaw and rage spreads throughout your chest, released by a bark of laughter to the moon that he served. “And why is that? Because it is your duty to serve those demons?” You care not for the way that his grip tightened on his sword. If anything, it lit the fire in your eyes brighter. Emotions ablaze and ready to burn down anything in your path. Including an old friend. 

“I will not warn you again.’’ Taking a breath, Eönwë keeps his sword sheathed and stares you dead in the eye. Peeking from the spruce trees behind him were the towers of the palace. Dark, mighty, and proud. As though they too sought to taunt you. “If it is blood that you wish to shed I will not humour you. Turn back to the way of which you came.’’ 

He offers you barely another glance as he turns on heel. Even with his cold demeanour that felt so foreign to you, his beauty prevailed in the moonlight. His white hair perfect in every strand, his blue eyes blessed by the illuminating night. Yet it is that same icy countenance that has your lungs looping around your heart. Tightening and strangling the last sliver of hope you dared to have. 

You knew in your soul that the old Eönwë, the one who stayed up night after night alongside you to partake in stories of old — the one who smiled at you with the radiance of the sun — and the one who swore to protect you that fateful moment of daybreak. . . was long gone. He now turns from you. Walking away as though you were nothing. Abandoning you as he did on that frightful night. Beneath the same moon. 

Suddenly, the gold scars beneath your clothing felt like a mockery too. Their worth that urged you to move on diminished with his fleeting figure. A painful reminder that it mattered not what you went through, and how much you tried to make him see the light. Eönwë was long gone. What stood before you is not your old friend, nor your would-be-lover. 

What strayed before your very eyes is a demon. 

A vampire. 

And you,

Are a hunter. 

Metal cuts through the air and in your blind rage you disregard everything that was of honour within you. Attacking him whilst his back was turned; truly going back on the way of the knight that you had sworn yourself to the entirety of your life. Then again, had he not as well?

However, Eönwë was not one to trifle with. He caught your movements from the corner of his eye and in a split second his blade abandoned his sheath. The clash of two sister swords, forged under the same master and with the same material, sends a powerful gust of wind sweeping through the forest. Yet neither of your budge. Locking eyes and gripping handles. A silent reminder, and promise, that neither would back down. 

“You,’’ he breathes, brows narrowing. “Have lost all honour.’’ 

If the fire had not been lit long ago, now it raged within you. Eager to consume everything in your path — this entire damn forest if you had to. 

“Do you think I give a damn about honour!?”

The stalemate is shattered by the sheer power of your stances and beneath the twilight sky — a war of hearts commences. Gold and silver flashes spill throughout the trees. Followed by the clashing of metal. The slicing of air. Dirt sweeps from the forest floor yet neither of you pays mind. 

For every hit, he dealt two back. Swift. Unfaltering. But you could keep up. Always. For every slice, you deflect. Metal sings a song through the air. Blood paints the leaves. Still, you both dance. Swords clashing. Hearts roaring. You dash forward after a shove that left you skidding. Left, right, right, left. Your sword whistles through the air in a rhythm. And he gladly provides the accompaniment. Blocking each and every one of your deadly, rageful array of attacks. Dishing his own. Slicing your skin. As you do his. 

A symphony of silver. A cacophony of clamours. He circles and throws his feet onto a rock. Elevating his body before kicking off and bringing his blade down upon you. Unfailing, you counter. Dodge, dart, swing, strike. Crimson splatters your clothes. His as well. Yet neither of you seize. Once more your swords clash. Both of you holding stance.

“Is it worth it?” You spit. Eyes ablaze — contrasting his icy ones. “Is it worth fighting me over those demons?” 

“I could ask you the same.’’ He sneers. 

“Do not dare turn this on me.’’ You seethe. “You promised me loyalty. I vowed it to you. Yet you turned your back on me! After everything we’ve been through! You joyfully took on their fangs!’’

The whites of his widen as they gape at you. You barely managed a look of effort on his face for the entire duration of the battle. Now, he stared at you with a newfound ferocity. Despite the howling of the wind and the pounding of your heart, you still hear his fleeting whisper loud and clear. Trembling, baneful. 

“Do you think this was by choice?”

Even the breeze halted in sound. You barely heard breaths, barely decipher the slice of light until you’re fighting for your life and desperately dodging his slew of attacks. Brutal in every way. Lacking any mercy he once had for you. Still, you do not regret your words, because in your eyes it was true. Eönwë had abandoned you for the sake of vampirism. It is what you told yourself all those nights that you wept into your pillow. Reminiscing on the good old days with your fellow knight and former friend. 

Perhaps it was that swell of emotions that threw you off of your game. Your excellency in skill had depleted drastically, as did your stamina as you narrowly dodges his strikes. Slices to your skin. Heart in your hand. You double back and are sent to the ground with one last attack. Eating dirt and seeping your blood into it as you gasp for the sweetness of air. Your sword clammers to the side and you scramble to your knees. Your hand shoots out to grab the hilt — only for it to be forced into the ground by a hard boot. Wrist joints releasing a faint, yet ugly cracking sound, you suck in a breath and glance up just in time to feel the chill of his blade against your throat. The tip threatens your pulse. Taunting it with its sharpness. 

Peering down at you like the ravenous eyes of a hawk, cerulean is consumed by amber. Pupils constrict into slits and suddenly — you felt as though you would rather his cold, indifferent stare than the one of malice shining down upon you. 

“You think. . .’’ that hungry gaze trails the streaks of blood not only upon your clothes but trickling down your exposed skin. Metal is aimlessly discarded on the floor and a tight grip circles the underneath your jaw as he abruptly cranes down. “That I wanted this?”

The tremble in his voice tells you all that you needed to know. Your other hand shoots up to attack but it is ultimately weighed down by a shimmer of gold. A bangle of his magic which soon encases your second wrist as well and pulls both of them behind your back. Rendering you helpless. 

“To become one of these sickening creatures — incapable of the humanity I once cherished?”

Your voice is reduced to a series of pathetic chokes and grunts when his hand tightens around the soft flesh of your throat. Thumb bruising your jaw along with his index finger, he forces your head back to witness not only the quickening of your pulse but also the blood that drips from a wound on your temple down onto your neck.

“I would almost applaud you for your ignorance. Yet it seems that through it, you have forgotten one detail.’’ Leaning in, his cold aura brings goosebumps onto your skin. Or perhaps it was the evident loss of control in his eyes. Either way, the last thing you prepared for was the hard ground against your back. His hand sends you down, clamping on your throat to suppress any cries while his knees cage either side of you. 

“That I was your Knight Captain and General. Even now. . . did you truly think you could get away with drawing your sword on me?” 

In response to his taunt, you draw your tongue back and spit in his eye. Eönwë so much as grunts in response before his weight forces you further into the ground and his hand coerces your neck to arch. “Even now you still defy me. But not to worry,’’ Wiping his face, he cranes down until his lips meet a streak of your essence and he groans at the sweet, metallic taste of blood on his tongue after so long. 

“I will be sure to remind you of your place.’’ 

Before you can even think of protesting, pain sends your nerves into a frozen state. Your muscles feel as though they are contracting, flaring — yet the scream ripped from your throat is restricted by the choking that you suffer. His cold lips and fangs contrast the warmth of your blood rushing from the bite wound he has dealt you. With your hands still bound and crushed under the weight of your back, you can do nothing but attempt to kick your legs and wriggle your body. 

Eönwë’s free hand slips to your side. Caressing one of your ribs through your clothing with his fingers before abruptly applying pressure. A silent warning which leaves you both horrified and sends your limbs motionless. With your head limping to the side, you attempt to mask the pain. To curl your expression into one of disgust at the loud gulping ringing through your ears. Alas, the pain contorts your muscles into one of agony, and with every bite, a sharper cry forces its way past your lips. 

“Eö-Eönwë,’’ gasping, you arch your back and flush your body against his. A strange feeling swirls in your abdomen. As though his coldness brought a sense of serenity and comfort over your form. “Eönwë p-. . .please, it hurts.’’ 

Even still. He parts, admires his work with the backlight of the moon casting a shadow over his face, before finding a new spot and indulging once more. Against your skin he rumbles an order, one that you could only decipher the second time around. “Not until you admit my authority.”

Despite the absolute misery that left your vision blurry and your body convulsing in response — you bite your tongue just a bit longer. Refusing to back down. Stubborn as ever. And oh, he knew that. Which is why his next onslaught was targeted directly at your collarbone. Smearing your neck and shoulders crimson until, at last, you concede. 

“F-Forgive this foolish —’’ swallowing your pride was like downing a stone. Nevertheless, you push through. “ — one. . . it’s you, Eönwë. You are. . . superior.’’ Flicking your head to the side, you can only hope to save some semblance of face. “Please have mercy, General!”

It took a second. Maybe two. He delighted in the sweetness of your blood and wished to savour it for a moment longer. Soon he parts. With hellish stains dripping down his chin and glinting on his fangs. The tremble of his hands clutching onto your body was enough of an indicator that it took everything within him to keep from simply diving down and draining you dry. Make you bleed for him as his heart has for you. Since the day you were forced to part. Perhaps then you would be satisfied.

An angel is what you looked like. One tainted by his own instincts. Painted with that fatal crimson. Even now, you are still the most gorgeous being he has ever set his eyes on. A wounded angel, yes, but an angel no less. 

‘You have gone too far,’ a voice echoes through his internal thoughts. ‘But she will finally be yours. As she seems to want so badly.’ 

Ice encases your form, yet to you his arms were warm. Heavenly. The same hands that dealt you such agony now brought you comfort. If whiplash did not make you dizzy, then blood loss certainly would. 

And as your vision hazes out with the only thing but the glimmer of the moon being recognisable, still you hear his deep, melodious voice against your ear. “I will not let you slip from my grasp again, my dawn.’’ The tear that you shed is kissed away as you are hoisted up into his hold. He steps towards the castle, fighting back every better judgement that screamed at him to leave you be. 

“You will be mine once more.’’ 

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[edensrose]

hi darling <3 could I request vamp! Tilion with the "you're not just the friendly gentleman/lady, are you?" prompt and a mortal reader who's managed to get into where Telperion is kept? (whether she's a spy, is there for personal reasons or straight up lost lol, Tilion finds her) 👀👀

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ tilion ⠀〳 human!reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. long have you awaited this day — where you would reach your goal and avenge your loved one. but it seems that a new friend of yours has other plans. ( blood mention ៸៸ biting ៸៸ mentions of humans used as blood bags ៸៸ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌! 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 )

· ⊰ note. to kick off the vampire au we have a request from my darling writing wife<3 hope you enjoy!

˙ ˖ lore post ៸៸ character sheet ៸៸ masterlist

Humans and vampires were like oil and water. 

Never mixing, and sure as hell not friends. 

Yet on the rare occasion, humans would mingle in the affairs of night crawlers. Rather, vampires in the Royal Court would prefer to have a walking blood bag than venture out into the world to feast on the son of man. Smaller villages that were well aware of their existence and feared them most, eventually came up with a solution: to offer a handful of young, healthy, sons and daughters — to not only live in the Court and be their breakfasts, lunches and suppers — but to also aid vampires in the more mundane, tedious affairs of the human world. 

When you turned the appropriate age of adulthood your village had roped you into the decade’s next supply for their blood-thirsty overlords and shipped you off to the palace. Ebony stone and lavish, candle-lit hallways awaited you. Paintings of old, sculptures of the talented and decorations of the rich adorned the interior of their domain. You expected something large, of course, but this was on a whole other level. Magnificent in every right. A part of you even began to believe that this was a hoax, a mere underhanded arrangement for your village to sell off a few of their own every ten years for wealth. Now that you stood before the red carpets, silver accents and crimson, beady eyes; you knew in your heart that this was reality. 

Perfect. 

You would merely bow your head and curtsey before the vampires — yet as you face the spruce-wood floors, your smile would remain inconceivable. 

Never, you promise. 

Never will these demons know of your true intentions here. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⊱· ❀ ·⊰

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You certainly took your time.’’ 

A voice dripping honey and laced with playfulness tickles your eardrums. You glance up from your ink and parchment briefly to force a smile onto your lips. Or at least, you tell yourself it is forced as you discreetly slip a note into the drawer of your desk.

“Tilion,’’ you sigh with jesting exasperation and turn back to your quill. “You know, for a royal guard, you certainly have too much time on your hands. Slacking off, are you?” You could feel the roll of his eyes and his chuckle brought forth a swell of warmth in your chest. Goosebumps rise on your skin when cold arms wrap around your shoulders and silvery strands tickle your cheek. “Is it a crime to check up on my favourite human?” 

Favourite human. A title you had earned throughout your stay here. Tilion was different from his kin. Looney, comedic relief and far from the stern faces and constipated looks that other vampires around the palace wore like silver jewellery. You quickly gained favour from the higher-ups due to your ability to read and write, thus, you were sent on various tasks and missions into the human world. Documenting what you saw and relaying important information — apart from your default blood bag status. 

The first time you were bitten was absolute agony. Unfortunately for you, you caught the eye of a pureblood because of your pretty face and demeanour. You would quickly learn the difference between the fangs of a pureblood and their lesser selves: halfbloods. 

Perhaps you should be grateful for the title of favourite human to Tilion. You rarely faced the threat of his fangs. Initially, you assumed that his friendship was merely a ploy. A small game with his food before he sunk his teeth in. Needless to say, you were pleasantly surprised when the bubbly, sometimes goofy vampire only sought your companionship. It lessened the load of your ‘duties’.

And made your job so much easier. 

“What brings you here today?’’ You question before turning back to your note-taking. Scribbling down accounts of your short time in the human world. From the corner of your eye you observe his mannerisms, hoping that whatever it is that he was here for, it wouldn’t take too long. Let alone result in him plopping himself onto your desk and rambling on for hours. Whilst most nights you would entertain him, today was different. You had other work to attend to. Free from the watchful eyes of any vampire. 

A sacrifice, that is what you and the other humans were dubbed. Little did they know that one particular sacrifice would lead to spilt blood, and ironically, not that of the blood bags. 

Long had you been aware of the existence of vampires — and long have you craved vengeance for their reign of terror on the mortal world. Especially after the passing of your beloved friend to their powerful, cruel clutches. You worked hard to ensure that you were the main pick of the village for that decade’s batch of humans. Wormed your way into the palace and sucked up every ounce of pain that you were put through in order to make it to where you sat now. A map, that you deciphered, in your drawer that would lead you to their most revered possession: Telperion 

Tilion was not apart of the equation. An unknown variable that threw your plans into disarray. Not that he ever discovered your true intentions, rather, you could not bring yourself to hurt him. A conflict of interest. You wished to curse yourself until you were blue in the face. 

Maybe there is a way, you keep telling yourself as you allow him to chatter on about anything and everything interesting that occurred within the palace walls that week. ‘Maybe he is different.’

“Well, let me not take up too much of your time, seems like you are quite dazed.’’ Those words snap you out of your mini monologue and you habitually bite your lip. “Forgive me,’’ you sigh. “Suppose you can say I am far from energetic after today’s outing.’’ His smile tells you that all is well and he unwraps his arms from around you. Even if he was colder than ice, the absence of his touch left you chiller. Much like the ravenous winter that struck the land around the palace. 

“Rest today. If all is well, I will pay you a visit tomorrow.’’ His lips purse. “Well, if Eönwë has nothing planned for me. You know what a pest he can be.’’ Silver eyes roll to the chandelier strung from the ceiling. You give him a faint smile accompanied by a wave before he leaves you alone in your room once again. 

‘He is different.’

You already feel the headache settling itself between your nerves and you groan with fingers rubbing at your temples. Perhaps this is why vampires often got the job done without fail. They never grant themselves the luxury of forming meaningful relationships, at least from what you have observed. Unlike humans, who rely on their signature trait for survival: community. 

Curses fly from beneath your breath as you fish out the intricately drawn map and splay it over your desk. Bringing a candle nearby to ease the strain of your eyes, you follow the path that you can only hope will bring you one step closer to your goal. First, Telperion — and soon, the downfall of all vampires. 

‘East-wing, stay centre. The guards should be controlling the west once the moon is three-quarters through its course. Time it right and it should lead the way.’ 

Praying to whatever holy being might be listening, you once more fall back on your greatest strength: intelligence — before rolling up the map and burning it to ashes with the very candle in your hand. 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⊱· ❀ ·⊰

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You would thank your lucky stars, but you knew that this was far from luck. This was skill. Skill that you sharpened like a blade. Knowledge and intellect were your weapons as you discreetly slink your way through the palace. 

Dawn would soon break through the sky, a sign for most vampires to call it a day. Even with their advanced energy and disregard for sleep, many enjoyed taking a few hours between the onset of dawn and morning to give themselves a break. A schedule you had memorised like the back of your hand. As you did the guard routine. 

Following the last shine of the moon that decorated the stone walls, you mind any creaking tiles and keep to the shadows. Avoiding windows that might send a breeze and cast your scent to the nearest guard in the vicinity. Many months had you planned this, and you would be a fool to let any possible contingency slip through the cracks. 

You could already catch glimmers of its shimmering leaves from the arch of an opening that lay before you at the far end of the hallway. Wouldn’t they guard it well? Many would ask. Vampires worshipped the tree, regardless of their rank. However, this specific wing of the palace was forbidden to humans such as yourself. Were you to be spotted, one can only assume a bloody outcome. Favoured or not. 

Heart in your throat, hands trembling at the taste of victory on your tongue — you approach the stone arch and slip out into the mini courtyard that awaited you. A ceiling was missing from above, allowing the power of the moon to shine down onto the area. Your lips purse for a moment. Was that the use of masking magic? You have never seen an opening from outside of the palace. After that brief spout of curiosity, you lower your gaze at last.

Lo and behold, the legend was true. Rooted at the centre, tall, mighty yet beautiful in every right stood the tree from the tales you read of in story books. Your eyes dazzle with the magnificence of silver that shimmers before you. Leaves, fruit, blossoms and trunk — all were blessed by the moon and shone with its pride. 

Telperion, the silver tree. 

Whether the gleam on your face was from the tree or the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that overflowed from within, you know not. After all this time, you are one step closer to your goal. Your friend’s name is sweet on your tongue for the first time in years as you whisper it into the air. Renewing your silent vow of avenging them. 

“Far from energetic, you say? Might I assume that you are sleepwalking, then?”

Nerves tensing. Hair standing. Your heart plummets into your stomach when a voice graces your ears. The same honeyed voice of the one you held dearest. The light of the tree means nothing to you anymore. Overtaken by the shadow that consumes the pebble floor beneath you and renders your body frozen. 

Unknown variable. . . No. 

A miscalculation. 

Nails dig into your palms as the presence that once brought you comfort finds itself in front of you. Seering dread throughout each of your nerves. Any warmth was now replaced by the chill of realisation — and the frostiness of failure. Betrayal. 

You sight those silver strands that you adored despite your gaze fixated on the ground — even so, you refuse to glance up. Whether out of fear or shock. 

“Will you not look at me?”

The pebbles melt to bronze and you soon face pools of grey. The warmth that you sought was still there. Familiar even. But now you could see past its facade and into the truth of malice. Staring back at you like a predator staring down its prey. The fingers beneath your chin that raised your head slip upwards. Caressing the underneath of your jaw as Tilion basks in the glow of your expression. 

“What is wrong? You are usually so happy to see me.’’ His thumb brushes at your cheekbone, a habit that you fell in love with. Despite it all, your mouth runs dry — and you can all but stare at him in a dumbfounded state. “Could it be. . .” he trails, before nails bite into your soft skin and his arm yanks you nearer. Flushing your heat against his iciness. 

“Is that fear in your eyes?” 

Was that cruelty in his? 

For the entirety of your stay here, Tilion was the one that chipped away your general view of vampires. Beating down the notion that all of them were merciless, sadistic beings of the night. With his silly smile and shimmering eyes. Oh, he still smiled. Yet it was filled with malevolence; and while his eyes shimmered, you knew well that it was not from kindness. 

“You. . .’’ Your throat wishes to bleed. Still, you power through — gaze locked onto his. 

“You are not just the friendly gentleman, are you?’’

His bark of laughter answers your question if not for the stone that met your back after he slipped his hand down to your throat and collided you into the nearest wall. Instinctively, your fingers shoot to his wrist and claw at his tanned skin as your body kicks into a struggle. Alas, you are no match for a vampire. Let alone a pureblood. The rose petals in your pocket would do so much as tickle him. 

“That is what I love about your kind.’’ Tilion grins, bringing his face closer to your frightened one. “You are all so trusting. So eager for companionship. Even if you try to remain aloof or indifferent. Tell me, did you think we were friends?”

“N-N. . .o!” your pride attempts to choke. 

“That look in your eye tells me otherwise.’’ His devilish hum rings through your eardrums and you gasp at the tightening of his grip that nearly cuts off your air supply. “Ah, that is right. You saw me not as a friend. . .” Tears spill into your eyes at his next spout of cruel laughter as he beholds your wriggling form. He needn’t finish his sentence. You knew the truth — so did he. All along you thought you were fooling him. Little did you know that it was you who was played like a harp. 

“As the Guardian of Telperion. . .’’ Your eyes widen at the start of his words. The bishop!? You absolute fool — how couldn’t you piece it together sooner?

“I should report you to the royals. After all, analysing your research would tell even a dunce of what you have been up to. However. . .’’ Holding your breath, your heart pounds against its ribcage. Eager to tear through your chest and run from you. Save you from the agony that you knew would come. 

“I must say, I believe I deserve a reward for this.’’ You catch a glimpse of his hungry gaze directed at your pulse. No doubt it is ringing through his ears just as much as yours. To make matters worse, the digging of his nails into your flesh cuts into your skin and allows a trickle of blood to drip down your neck. “I have held back all these months. . . And believe me, it was far from easy.’’ 

His hair tickles your face as his tongue flushes against the crimson; trailing it along the thin streak on your skin. You feel his tremble, his shudder — you hear his groan. Even a speck of your blood left him ravenous. Yet summoning all the patience he could, he parts in the slightest. So that he can behold your fearful expression once more. 

“I should have my fun with you first.’’ 

It is the only clarity you will receive before a cry is ripped from the depths of your throat. As though hot metal tore through the softness of your flesh. His fangs reminded you of the true prowess of a pureblood. 

It mattered not how much you protested. Struggled. Screamed — or begged. His hands found your wrists like chains and his bite left limp against the wall. A slave to your own ambition and at the mercy of his hunger. 

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[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ꒰❀꒱ 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐮 ❜࿔

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë⠀& melkor⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. manwë deals with his bastard of a brother whilst they try to pick a new colour scheme for their syndicate. he quickly remembers that there is no one who can drive him up the wall more than melkor ( dark themes ៸៸ blood mention ៸៸ corpse ៸៸ strong language )

· ⊰ note. idk but I've just been feeling them lately. their dynamic in this au is one of my favourites

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ au info post

♡. — 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒓

"Hmm."

Pale violet sweeps over the newly decorated wall. His cruxed index finger pressed against his lips and his thumb stroking beneath his chin for added effect.

"Not sure. Don't think I quite like the shade of red."

A click of tongue sounds through the office.

"You complain too much." Manwë rolls his eyes to the ceiling and flexes his hand against the wall. "What's wrong with it? You didn't like blue, you don't like red, what exactly do you like then?"

"Maybe black?" Melkor offers, running a thumb along the wall. As though feeling the new colour was possible.

"Vilisse is black." Drips Manwë's obviously exasperated tone as he arches his brow. "I thought Vilisse was green?" Melkor counters to which his brother sighs and shakes his head so that white locks bounce around him.

"Are we gonna settle on a colour or are you just going to paint fucking rainbows all over the syndicate?"

"That a challenge?" Melkor meets his sibling's irritated expression with a grin and a quirk of his brow. "I quite think your desk will look splendid in hot pink." He motions to the aforementioned wood to which Manwë tightens his fingers once more.

"That's Italian Maple you dick."

"Oooo fancy." Shrugs the older as he flicks his finger and sends a droplet of crimson onto the revered Italian Maple desk. "As if you couldn't just import a new one, Tweetie. Don't be such a scrooge."

Manwë inhales, reminding himself that his brother is right and refraining from slamming his head into the desk he had just stained. Instead, he fights back the urge to roll his eyes once more at the childhood nickname. It was hard to believe who was the true older of the two.

"The task is still at hand. What colour are we transitioning to? Lest you want to keep the old man's design?"

Melkor groans and hangs his head back after stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Decisions, decisions. . . How about purple? Maybe blue?"

"I thought you said no to blue?"

"Well I change my mind."

"For fucks sa —"

"You know what? I actually quite like the red."

With that last sentence from his brother, Manwë finally relaxes his fingers from the head of hair he was flushing against the wall. A loud thud echoes through his office and he nonchalantly steps past the body laying on his rich wooden floors. The crimson stains drip from the wall and soak into the ground as Melkor admires the 'shade of red'.

"Hey now," the older chuckles as Manwë's shoulder knocks with his as he makes a beeline for the door. "No need to throw a tantrum." He muses, spinning around to face the other's back. "All that blood's gonna get on your precious Italian Maple y'know!"

"Clean it up then." Manwë mutters, retrieving his handkerchief to clean his fingers from the sorry soul whose blood became a paint sample. "And come find me when you're done playing these fucking games."

He receives only a mocking croon before Melkor thinks to himself. Just before his brother leaves the doorway he calls out, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"You know, I think gold would do the trick. What do ya say?"

A moment of silence fills the office before Manwë glances over his shoulder with a curl on his lips. "Gold for glory. I like it." And with that, he steps out, yet not before calling back.

"I'm serious about that blood. Clean it up, lest I overload your flask with gasoline."

"Bastard."

"Dick."

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @kiatheinsomniac @m-shade @qwerty-19923 @tinkywinky27 @weird-addiction @yonjisu @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @noldorinpainter @singleteapot @floraroselaughter @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @ashfromvolcanoes @miriel-estelwen @wandererindreams @cilil @natchayaphorn @someoneinthestars @asianbutnotjapanese @cipherwheeldecoder @stormchaser819 @all-things-fandomstuck @tumblertatiana

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day seven : dance

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   manwë ⠀〳 reader⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. the elder king finds himself enthralled by the sight of you during a banquet

· ⊰ notes. this man makes me so soft

He inhales, yet feels nothing. No ease, no soothe to his burning lungs, no remedy to his shallow intakes, but he still inhales. He, the Breath of Arda, Lord of the Winds — now left breathless.

Amber accented with deep purple eyes, that mimic the afternoon sky above, train on the figure ahead. Through the sea of robes until they land on the silken twirls, the graceful steps, gentle smiles. 

And he feels his chest tighten. None of it, however, is out of ill-will. Rather, the Elder King finds himself entranced by the Ainu ahead with such a stunning countenance and an even more gorgeous gleam. 

"My Lord," a voice draws him out of his little fantasy as Manwë side-glances at his herald with a sheepish smile creeping upon his lips. "Yes, Eönwë?" "Why do you stare?" He almost feels embarrassment threatening to swallow him whole, but the older clears his throat and turns his attention back onto you. 

"Is she not beautiful, Eönwë?" 

Taken aback by the sudden forwardness, Eönwë can only give a soft, "mn."

Manwë almost frowns at the response but supposes that his herald simply wishes to not overstep. "Surely you can at least admire her looks, correct?" "I trust My Lord's judgement." Eönwë's firm nod leaves his brother grinning and it doesn't take long for his gaze to fall back on you. 

He could ask you to dance — he should. Yet here he stands like a deer in headlights, nervous, questioning. He feels the stare of his Maia and knows exactly what his look means. Ask her, my lord, ask her to dance. 

A part of him was about to deny, he parts his lips to explain to Eönwë why he cannot do any of the sorts — yet stiffens when he loses sight of you. Or rather, when he finally notices that you are making your way towards him.

"Your Majesty," you bow, smile fainter as you smooth out your robes. "My apologies for approaching you so suddenly. However I —" You halt, sudden nervousness swelling within your stomach. How does one go up to the Elder King and tell him you took notice of his staring? Had you no shame? You take a glance back at the one who beckoned you forward, almost glaring at the grin Irmo presents you and the little hand motion straight after. 

"I just — I. . ." 

He's confused for a moment, but a darling smile soon tugs upon his lips as both realisation settles in and he catches sight of Irmo in the background. With a clear of his throat, he extends his hand, fair, lean and gentle as his face bears a soft countenance.

"I believe it is I who should ask forgiveness for my stares, my lady," he spares Eönwë a short glance who all but nods in motivation and steps away. "Might I ask for a dance? You were simply breathtaking."

You feel your cheeks burn and when you finally find the strength to glance up, you see pink spilling onto his fair face as well. With a giggle, you slowly slip your hand into his, a little more confident now that you have witnessed his own bashfulness. 

"It would be my honour."

With that, you pull him to the dancefloor, and albeit surprised, he soon lets out the softest of laughs and tugs you closer. A smile on his lips, a twinkle in his eye. He can only thank the stars for this blessing — to enjoy a dance with you.

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @kiatheinsomniac @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @qwerty-19923 @momoewn @tinkywinky27 @weird-addiction @yonjisu @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @noldorinpainter @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @floraroselaughter @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @ashfromvolcanoes @miriel-estelwen @wandererindreams @cilil @natchayaphorn @someoneinthestars @asianbutnotjapanese @cipherwheeldecoder @stormchaser819

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day three : shame ( eönwë )

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   eönwë ⠀〳 ⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. the war of wrath will forever plague his mind, even after simple training sessions with his fellow maiar ( war themes ៸៸ blood ៸៸ killing insinuation )

· ⊰ notes. back at it again with bullying eönwë <3

Ilmarin’s pools were the perfect place to retreat to after a long day of training. Sweat, crimson and dirt wash off into the crystal-like waters, leaving his folded wings as pristine as always. His hands, calloused with aeons of swordsmanship, cup the clear liquid and pour it down his face. 

Yet the warm waters do nothing to quell the storm overtaking Eönwë’s heart as he continues to bathe. If anything, they remind him of the heat of battle. Of the rush that sent his mind into a high. Of the fresh blood that stained his armour, his skin, his wings, and especially — 

His sword. 

Cerulean hues cast a glance at his blade that lays elegantly in its sheath beside his clothes that he abandoned before venturing into the waters. There is a ringing in his ears and a whisper in the air. As though his very sword — a symbol of his title, authority and righteousness — mocks him. Taunts him. Reminds him of those fateful nights in which the ground flowed with res and screams poured through the air.

The faint glimmer of that same colour that Eönwë had grown to despise catches his vision within the pools. Slipping from his skin and drifting off into nothingness. 

It was just training, he tells himself. 

Training cannot be compared to the war. 

. . . Then why are these images plaguing him so? 

Eönwë makes the mistake of focusing on the swirls of red within the crystal waters and in doing so comes face to face with a monster. A being of true malice. Of dishonour. A soldier. A murderer. 

The General of Valinor’s Host Himself. 

A shudder courses through his body and he can hardly recognise the image that he stares into. The sight of his hair mangled and clotted with red. His eyes bloodshot. His face stained with dirt and smeared with the same shade of crimson that coats him entirely. This image certainly is not a reflection of his current self, who stands in the pools clean and flawless. 

Was he truly clean? 

As if to answer his question, spots of that same damn shade take his vision and he quickly turns to his arms. One, two, three — multiple. His hands and arms begin to surface with a deep red and his eyes shoot open wide in surprise. 

His hands are quick to splash water onto himself. He rubs his arms vigorously. He scrapes at the vision of blood and yet it refuses to dissipate. No matter how much he soaked himself in water or lathered on soap. No matter how much he frantically rubbed and scrubbed and begged it to go away. 

The lump in his throat barely allows a noise of distress to leave him as his hands practically claw at the deep colour. His eyes are agape and desperate as he argues for his mind to spare him these agonising games. 

“Stop,’’

“Stop —”

“S-Stop.’’

He inhales sharply, eyes brimming with tears. It mattered not how much he washed or how much he pleaded. Never would he be able to remove the stain from his hands. The crimson that now defined his very being. 

Even as he wept to the heavens and beseeches The One himself. 

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @kiatheinsomniac @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @qwerty-19923 @momoewn @tinkywinky27 @weird-addiction @yonjisu @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @noldorinpainter @singleteapot @the-phantom-of-arda @floraroselaughter @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @ashfromvolcanoes @wandererindreams @miriel-estelwen @cilil @someoneinthestars @asianbutnotjapanese

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[edensrose]

He holds your stare with his once delicate eyes that now mimic the frost upon Taniquetil’s peaks. His grip tightens. “Do you still cling to your stubbornness, my darling? Even after aeons of separation?” “N-No — No that is far from the case my Lord!” The tension beneath your jaw increases before dissipating altogether. Manwë circles your form once or twice, like a mighty bird of prey whilst you hang your head in shame.

Knelt Before The Throne — Dark!Manwë x Banished Maia!reader teaser ( porn with plot ៸៸ manipulative manwë ៸៸ possessiveness ៸៸ authority kink )

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ꒰❀꒱ 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆! 𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖 ❜࿔ 

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ “ 2k followers event ’

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ ainur⠀〳 reader⠀ ៸៸ vampire themes ៸៸ blood mention ៸៸ biting, so much biting ៸៸ some violent themes ៸៸ dark fantasy ៸៸ royal aspects ៸៸ victorian esque ៸៸ various other tags  to be listed as the au ensues ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. a world where mysterious, terrible creatures of the night rule over the land from the shadows. mere myth to most yet reality to others, it seems that the latter might become more apparent as there is an uproar in the vampire royal court. this victorian esque story follows the lives of the vampire court, the internal divide between kings, the struggle of scientists fighting for humanity. . . and the war between creatures of twilight and the divine hunters that vow to eradicate them. 

꒰❀꒱ please ensure that you have read the vampire legendarium and the character sheet before proceeding 

꒰❀꒱ queue / masterlist.

in celebration of reaching 2k followers, I have decided to run an event that the majority of you voted for in a poll. I would like to first take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you who have supported me. I have been in the tolkien fandom for over a year and I am so happy with how far I have come. I appreciate all of you and I can only hope for smooth sailings along with greater things to come! I would also like to give a huge thanks to my darling friend @cilil , for she was the one who helpled me massively with this au! at this point, it's our au lol. love you babes<3 anyway ~

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· ⊰ notes

꒰❀꒱ the following event will work on a request system. you can request as many times as you like, however, there are only fifteen slots. depending on my mood, I might open up more slots in the future ( 21 requests — closed! )

꒰❀꒱ anyone can participate, as long as you take my rules into consideration 

꒰❀꒱ requests are reader-insert based, you may request for a total of three characters in one fic

꒰❀꒱ you may request calamórë ( manwë x námo ) as well

꒰❀꒱ please send in a prompt from below and a character. you do not have to provide plot but you can if you so wish

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

· ⊰ prompts 

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖  dialogue

 "don't vampires live forever? that's a long time. . ." "you make me sick."

 "for a so-called 'expert', your strategies are kind of weak." 

 "you're everything I ever wanted..." 

"you can run, but you cannot hide. "

"holy water. how original. "

"if you bite me, will I die?"

"please don't be afraid of me."

"your blood is intoxicating. if I start, I don’t think I could ever stop." "I trust you."

"I want you to turn me."

"what are you?"

“you’re hurting me!”

"you are/are not a monster."

"don't come any closer!"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"if you’re going to sit there bleeding, at least have the decency to offer me some to drink."

"please, just give me a chance!"

"what happens if two vampires drink from each other?" "would you like to find out?"

"you're not just the friendly gentleman/lady, are you?"

"scared, darling?"

"hold still and this won't hurt as much."

“don’t you dare lie to me!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ scenarios 

ʚ A and B knew each other in the past, and A is heartbroken and betrayed seeing that B is a vampire Hunter now. B has to now try to regain this trust. 

ʚ B finally finds A, but after taking one glance at their terrified form, they can't bare to finish carrying out their mission.

ʚ A and B are in a forbidden romance, as they are either a vampire or vampire hunter 

ʚ A is a hunter and thinks that they are misleading B, a vampire. little do they know that B already knows what they are and is playing them as well 

ʚ A is a human and in a relationship with B, a vampire who is trying to keep them safe from other vampires 

ʚ A and B are on opposite sides, A ends up defending B in a fight when their kin clash 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ action prompts

( angel. ) reader is tricked by the beauty of vampire and is thus lured into a dangerous sutuation. 

( accident. ) vampire/vampire hunter accidentally hurts reader.

( authority. ) vampire / vampire hunter shows their authority over reader.

( awaken. ) reader awakes as a vampire with the one who turned them at their side.

( battle. ) reader and vampire / vampire hunter are on opposite sides, they find themselves in a battle. 

( betrayal. ) vampire / vampire hunter betrays reader ( or vice versa ).

( bite. )  vampire bites the reader on their ( neck / wrist / thigh / body part ) to drink their blood.

( bloodlust. )  vampire has gone too long without feeding, base instincts taking over, the reader finds them. 

( capture. ) reader is captured by vampire / vampire hunter ( or vice versa ).

( chase. ) reader runs from either a vampire / vampire hunter.

( control. ) vampire has to control themselves from draining the reader dry.

( dance. ) reader and vampire / vampire hunter share a tense or intimate dance. 

( discover. ) reader discovers what the other actually is, a vampire / vampire hunter.

( duty. ) vampire hunter has to decide whether to choose duty over love when they discover what the reader truly is.

( gift. ) human reader gifts vampire roses without knowledge of its effects.

( gold. ) reader sees vampire hunter's golden wounds.

( intentional. ) vampire / vampire hunter intentionally hurts reader either out of spite or to obtain information from them.

( interrogation. ) vampire / vampire hunter interrogates reader.

( protective. ) vampire / vampire hunter expresses protectiveness over reader.

( rescue. ) vampire hunter / vampire saves reader.

( reveal. ) vampire / vampire hunter reveals to reader what they really are.

( sacrifice. ) vampire / vampire hunter sacrifices themselves for reader.

( sadistic. ) reader finds themselves in a situation with a sadistic-driven vampire / vampire hunter.

( stake. )  after finding out the other is a vampire, the reader tries to stake them.

( temptation. ) vampire tempts reader with immortality or the idea of staying by their side for all eternity.

( trapped. ) reader finds themselves trapped in the vampire royal castle / the hunters' domain

( turn. ) vampire turns the reader into one of them.

[edensrose]

Alright everyone! So as most of you know I've been creating a Hero-verse!Ainur Au and I've decided that it's going to be a pretty big and extensive au, however — I've been having trouble with deciding some factors

I've decided to involve my readers and have them vote for certain plots and devices. I've created a Google form and would really appreciate it if you could spare me just five minutes to answer ! ( Everything is anonymous )

I might create more if needed! Also note that I added some context of the au in the description of the form so that you are more aware of this aus' world and characters

🌺 You can find it here

Characters that are definitely apart of this au

Manwë

Námo

Melkor

Irmo

Eönwë

Mairon

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔  ❜࿔

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ “ a flower for you, my love, ”

꒰❀꒱ to celebrate the day of love, I did a small valentine's day prompt event, here is the masterlist ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ʚ confessions through slumber , 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ love letters , 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐

ʚ cookies and pinching , 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ hand holding , 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ ferris wheels & hand holding , 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ sleepy confessions , 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ dancing kisses , 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ valentine's driving , 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ silly poetries , 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ sickly valentine , 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐

ʚ science & sweet gifts , 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day eight : flight

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   manwë ⠀〳 námo⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. whilst flying through the airs in need of a break, námo is pleasantly surprised by the eagle that joins him

· ⊰ notes. this event should have been called a manwë event with how much I'm writing for him — not that I mind of course <3

‘Flying all by your lonesome, little raven?’

Upon hearing the familiar voice ring through his ears, Námo rears his presently ebony-feathered head and beholds the mighty wingspan above him. So, that is where the rays of light went. . . they were blocked out by none other than His Majesty.

White, elegant feathers flap through the skies. Twinkling yet slitted sapphire eyes peer at his fellow Vala who also takes the form of a winds' creature. The two of them soar through the skies — one noticeably smaller than the other, yet majestic in every right. A contrast of colours that flutter through the air.

'Have you been stalking me, Your Majesty?'

Námo hears a chime in Manwë's fëa, as though the king had laughed at his little tease. The great white eagle lowers himself so that he is flying side-by-side with his lover.

'Is it so wrong of me to crave my dear doomsman? I heard your song in my skies. How could I turn down the opportunity to soar with you?'

If Námo could, he might have smiled. Instead, to show his appreciation he turns directory and flies a few circles around the larger bird. Brushing their feathers together and nuzzling their soft heads.

'How about we retire to your halls? I would much rather see your true form.' Námo offers, only to receive another chuckle through his head which causes his heart to flutter in the slightest.

'Is someone calling me pretty?'

Námo nearly forgets how to fly. His wings stiffen and he falls a few inches before quickly flapping his wings in panic and regaining his composure. He shoots his head in Manwë's direction, cursing his beady raven eyes that can hardly produce his typical icy glare.

'How about we land? You shall receive a pinch for that one.'

Another laugh as Manwë nuzzles his head against his lover's before agreeing. 'As you wish, my darling.' While Námo might not see it in this form, he can feel Manwë's smile in the air.

And so the two love birds soar through the skies. Dancing through the winds and fluttering amongst each other as they return to Ilmarin's Halls.

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

· ⊰ get tagged for my writing. @cilil @discerningduck @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @wandererindreams @stormchaser819

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ please consider liking, reblogging and / or commenting if you enjoy my work! all feedback is greatly appreciated ♡

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ꒰❀꒱ 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆! 𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖 ❜࿔ 

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ “ masterlist / queue ’

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ ainur⠀〳 reader⠀ ៸៸ vampire themes ៸៸ blood mention ៸៸ biting, so much biting ៸៸ some violent themes ៸៸ dark fantasy ៸៸ royal aspects ៸៸ victorian esque ៸៸ various other tags  to be listed as the au ensues ❜࿔

꒰❀꒱ the vampire legendarium | character sheet | prompt page ( please read these if you have not already, for lore )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

·⊰ queue / masterlist. 

ʚ "you're not just the friendly gentleman, are you?" — 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ ( authority. ) & ( capture. ) — 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ ( interrogation. ) & ( sadistic. ) — 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 ( 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 )

ʚ ( authority. ) & ( capture. ) — 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒂𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 ( 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 )

ʚ "if you bite me, will I die?'' — 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ ( turn. ) — 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ ( awake. ) — 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ human reader is in a relationship with a vampire, who tries to protect them from the others — 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏, 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ( separate )

ʚ "your blood is intoxicating, if I start, I don't think I could ever stop." "I trust you." — 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆, 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ( separate )

ʚ (bite. ) — 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆

ʚ ( accident. ) — 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

ʚ ( bloodlust. ) — 𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐, 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ( separate )

ʚ vampire finds reader, after seeing how terrified they are, they cannot bare to finish their mission — 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆

ʚ forbidden romance between reader and vampire — 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓, 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ( separate )

ʚ ( rescue. ) — 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏, 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆, 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 ( separate )

ʚ ( temptation. ) — 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆, 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ( separate )

ʚ ( control. ) — 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏, 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ( separate )

ʚ "holy water? how original.'' — 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏

ʚ "you're everything I've ever wanted.'', "hold still and this won't hurt as much.'' & "please give me a chance.'' — 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆

ʚ ( dance. ) , ( gift. ) & ''scared, darling?" — 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day three : shame ( navëquen )

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   navëquen ⠀〳 vanimóre⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. he hates whenever his mind wanders back to angband, but it is the only way he gets to remember vanimóre as of late ( minors dni ៸៸ suggestive descriptions ៸៸ slight dark themes ៸៸ angst ៸៸ scar mention ៸៸ suggested masturbation )

· ⊰ notes. a quick reminder that navëquen belongs to my beloved friend @cilil ! please give him some love, he and vanimóre are my comfort ship <3

He can still feel the chains. 

Still feel the cold. 

Still feel the heat of those stunning crimson eyes staring him down.

With a hushed breath, Navëquen flutters open his grey gaze. To his dismay, it is not the beautiful crimson staring back at him but instead the ceiling of his chambers. His quiet, barren chambers. 

Alone. As always. 

A sigh parts his lips and the Maiar rises from his lying position with great effort. The empty air serves to chill his pale skin and he brings the sheets around him. Yet whether this was to warm up or hide his own flesh from his keen eyes was up for debate. 

Flashes of his dream pour into his mind. Navëquen pulls his lower lip between his teeth and attempts to banish these thoughts of longing. Of desire for the one he knows feels none of those for him. 

'I wonder what he might be thinking right now.'

His own conscience taunts him and he shuts his eyes. He indulges memories for the time being. The chill of chains encircles his wrists once more and the warmth of dark lips caressing his neck sends shivers down his spine. A mirage of rough hands slip down his sides, trace his thighs and before he knows it, Navëquen’s own thumb traces his inner thigh. 

He bites down hard on his lower lip and a bitter feeling nips at his fëa. His lean fingers slowly stroke at the scars of his still healing fána. 

And for a moment,

Just a moment,

He could still feel his touch. Cold and unforgiving, yet to Navëquen, it must have been the most loving and tender gesture he had ever experienced. Even if his counterpart stared at him with such hate and spat venom that brined his heart in agony and burned his ears. 

“Vanimóre. . .’’ he breathes, and the shame nearly eats him up from the inside out. How could it feel so wrong to say his other half’s name? A taint on his tongue. A scandal to his standing. And yet. . . He cannot stop himself from slipping his hand higher. 

His dark hair flushes against the pillows as his head hangs back. A heated gasp leaves his lips as images of his beloved cloud his vision. He needs this. He needs relief. He needs to feel loved again. 

Navëquen shuts his eyes, hoping that it would ease the guilt gnawing at him as his hand sets to work. To feel such immense humiliation over touching himself to the man who has hurt him — and yet is still the one he will always run back to. . . it is almost too much to bear. 

So he allows himself to slip into the bliss. Even if it is for but a moment. As the image of crimson hues overtakes him.

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