Characters: Valyaren/Amaurë
Synopsis: Valyaren attempts to take the prince under his wing.
Warnings: /
Author's Note: Somewhat connected to Shame and Royalty, but can be read as a standalone. Feel free to check those out if you'd like to know about what's secretly been going on between prince and herald ;)
"Your blade work is extraordinary, my prince," Valyaren compliments with a placid smile, lowering his sword as their training session concludes.
Amaurë lights up in response to the older Vala's praise and smiles back. His magenta eyes are wide and soft – so trusting, so innocent.
Beautiful, Valyaren thinks to himself. And so unlike what one would expect from the offspring of two spirits of chaos.
"It was an honour to train with you, Lord Valyaren," Amaurë says with a respectful nod. "I feel like I learned a lot from you today and will do my best to apply these lessons in the future."
"You are more than welcome to visit me for regular training sessions," Valyaren offers. "I hear your Lord Father has asked a Maia to teach you, but that will hardly amount to sufficient training for a Vala, wouldn't you agree?"
His tone is silky, concealing the edge in his voice. Of course he knows all about Eönwë both guarding and training Amaurë, and while he acknowledges his strength, he wishes Manwë would've given the prince to him instead.
As if a mere herald could give him the discipline he needs...
"Eönwë's abilities are beyond question and he treats me kindly. I am very happy with him," Amaurë says, his gaze lowered politely.
A wave of displeasure washes over Valyaren. He isn't used to others disagreeing with his benevolent suggestions, especially not the sweet young prince, but he manages to keep his expression serene.
"I see," he replies and forces another smile. "Yet the offer still stands. There is no harm in seeking out the wisdom of more than one master, after all."
Amaurë, seemingly oblivious to the older Vala's irritation, nods and sheaths his sword. "Of course. I will keep it in mind."
Valyaren doesn't like letting him go, but for now, he has no other choice. All he can do is wait for the prince to return, so he may continue to guide him and one day, if he succeeds in gaining his trust, taking beautiful Amaurë under his wing and having him all to himself.
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· ⊰ synopsis. nsfw headcanons with amaurë and vanimóre ( separately ) ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ explicit descriptions ៸៸ dom/sub dynamics ៸៸ nicknames ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ fingering ៸៸ oral ៸៸ public sex ៸៸ bondage ៸៸ somnophilia ៸៸ biting ៸៸ marking ៸៸ roleplay ៸៸ body worship )
· ⊰ note. thought it's about time I gave you all some food hehe
♡. — 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆
❀˙ ˖ He is submissive and a bottom. His preferences rarely change, but if his parter truly wants him to switch then he wouldn't mind taking the lead a few times. He has a need to please you
❀˙ ˖ On the topic of his constant desire to please you, that also means that he is all about foreplay. While he might be the submissive one when it comes to actual sex, it doesn't mean that he does not delight in watching you squirm and gasp in pleasure. If he gets those reactions out of you, he knows that you feel good, and is thus turned on as well
❀˙ ˖ He has a thing for both slow and soft sex as well as rough and passionate. It simply depends on your mood
❀˙ ˖ Favourite positions include. . . for fem.body reader: you riding him, most preferably facing him so that he can shower you in kisses and whine into your chest about how good you feel. for male. body reader: prone-boning, riding you or being pressed against some random piece of furniture. He enjoys the feeling of being caged
❀˙ ˖ Has odaxelagnia, a kink for being bitten. On that note, Amaurë is a bit of a masochist. The feel of you marking him up is beyond delightful for him. And he wears each and every one of your marks with pride
❀˙ ˖ The prince is a damn tease. He's always trying to tempt you. One of his favourite sights is seeing you all flustered in public. On one occasion during a gala, he even palmed you under the table. He might seem innocent but his shamelessness knows no bounds. He loves making you lose composure and drag him off to some empty hallway. Only to bat his eyelashes at you. "Hmm? What's wrong? Is something the matter, my love?"
❀˙ ˖ On that note, he is also perfectly fine with public sex. As long as you both don't get caught. Then again, the thrill of someone finding you both turns him on greatly
❀˙ ˖ If it wasn't obvious with some of the previous points, Amaurë can be a bit of a brat. Working on your nerves so that you can put him in his place. He always backs off immediately, making it seem like he's just the submissive little prince. He keeps piling onto the list until you snap
❀˙ ˖ Bondage is another kink that he is into. But he certainly loves when you get creative with it. When you tied his wrists with his training bandages, the poor Vala hit his climax oh so quickly, purely from excitement
❀˙ ˖ He enjoys partaking in dom/sub dynamics. As the Prince of Valinor, it certainly can be quite stressful with all the responsibilities that he carries. As such, he wants to serve you in bed. Bending to your every command and even referring to you by a title if that's what you fancy. To be on his knees before you, serving you in every way you demand it - he could want nothing more
❀˙ ˖ Overstimulate him, please. It ties into the previous point and makes him feel so helpless in your hands. Another thing that turns him on a lot
❀˙ ˖ He's a whiney little thing in bed. He really does try to keep quiet, but the truth is that he's quite loud - especially when you're pleasuring him oh so intensely
❀˙ ˖ Wants you to be mean to him sometimes. But if you are going to degrade him, always make sure to balance it with some praise as well. Amaurë's favourite is sugar-coated degradation
❀˙ ˖ He also has a bit of a thing for roleplay. Coming up with random and creative scenarios is always so fun for him. Especially the scandalous ones
❀˙ ˖ Body worship is such a big thing on his end. At times he simply kisses down your body, making sure not to miss any scars, birthmarks or so on. Calling you beautiful and by so many endearments as he worships every inch of you
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
♡. — 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆
❀˙ ˖ He is dominant and a top by nature. Vanimóre gets off on the idea of being in control of your body and pleasure, thus these are his preferences. He doesn't deviate from them ( there is only one exception to this )
❀˙ ˖ With that being said, it's a bit obvious that he has a bit of an authority kink. Whether pre-corruption or not, he always adores it when you refer to him by titles. "General" and ''Sir'' to name a few
❀˙ ˖ Often has rough sex with you, but damn is it passionate. He can get a bit messy. Touching, twisting and groping your body as much as he can, kissing your breath away and having messy little make-out sessions with you. Everything about him is intense. However, on some rare occasions, you can score some lazy or even soft sex with him. Especially in the mornings
❀˙ ˖ Favourite positions include: Having you ride him, bending you over some random piece of furniture, wall-sex where he can hoist you up and trap you with his body, fucking you from behind while you're on your knees with your head buried into the pillow. Anything that allows him total control of your body
❀˙ ˖ So much orgasm control. This can bleed out into orgasm denial and overstimulation. The more you beg him to cum, the more he denies you. Mocking and teasing, making it seem like he'll let you release only to snatch it away from you cruelly. And when he finally lets you cum? He'll do so again, and again, and again. Until you're begging him for a break. And at that point he'll simply mutter to your ear: "Oh? But I thought you wanted to cum? Go on then, dollface, cum for me.''
❀˙ ˖ Biting and marking kink, Vanimóre has a thing for marking you up. His fangs do an especially good job with this. However, he will admit that he gets a bit turned on when you're biting into his neck or shoulder because of how much pleasure you're in. Or when you playfully try to return the favour
❀˙ ˖ A brat tamer, but he's a sly one. He'll let you act out, piling up all your little incidents in a mental list. And when he finally strikes, he'll punish you in bulk for each and every one of them. It's always when you least expect it, and he laughs at your expression each and every time
❀˙ ˖ He can switch between degradation and praise. He loves calling you his poor little darling while you're spluttering from all the pleasure that he gives you. Crooning as he strokes your face, mimicking your whimpers with his own voice and talking to you with a feigned kindness
❀˙ ˖ Vanimóre has a bit of an oral fixation. He could stay between your legs forever if you'd let him. Gripping your thighs and sending you to nirvana. He loves when you pull his hair and whimper about it being too much. It just makes him want to do more to you
❀˙ ˖ Enjoys tying you up during sex because he gets to see how helpless you look. He might even partake in shibari. Intricately tying you up oh so prettily and leaving you there with one of his newest trinkets and sex toys
❀˙ ˖ On that note, he has an entire arsenal of sex toys to his disposal. As you probably are now aware, he adores overstimulating you. And what better way to do that than overwhelm each and every part of you? He's an inventor by nature, so he's always coming up with a new gadget for you to try out
❀˙ ˖ He also doesn't mind public sex. On multiple occasions, he's dragged you off to some empty room and stuck his hand down your robes. Or pushed them away and fucked you just like that. Another thing that he quite loves is semi-clothed sex
❀˙ ˖ Somnophilia is another kink that he quite likes. If it's something you're into, expect to wake up to his head between your legs, or his fingers knuckle-deep within you. On some occasions you have even woken up to his cock buried within you as he desperately ruts against your hips
❀˙ ˖ He's a loud little bastard in bed. Even though he is topping, he is not afraid to let you hear his moans, gasps, even whimpers. He wants you to know how good you feel. He's also riddled with dirty talk
❀˙ ˖ It is a bit obvious by now but Vanimóre is a sadist and would be thrilled if you had a bit of masochism within you
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· ⊰ synopsis. valyaren watches the prince train with his maiar and contemplates his conflicting feelings about him ( dark themes ៸៸ obsessive behaviour )
· ⊰ notes. can't believe that the first thing in writing for val is immediately exposing him for what a creep he is lmao
'Surely, he knows what he is doing to me?'
The Vala's eyes slither as he watches the Prince battle with such grace. Majestically evading attacks of his Maiar and dealing tenthfold back. While still maintaining a smile blessed by the heavens on his lips.
Amaurë Ilwion. The Prince of Valinor. The Darling of Heaven.
And his greatest desire.
Valyaren maintains his gentle, genuine expression as he observes the Prince's fighting style. He was fluid in every way. Swift. Graceful. Like a spirit of air should be. But Valyaren cannot seem to focus on observing and judging this style as he is tasked to do. Instead, he is too caught up within his own thoughts and unholy desires.
'He is beautiful.'
'He is magnificent.'
Valyaren almost releases a shaky sigh. Oh, to make the Prince his. To feel his perfect skin beneath his fingers. To breathe in his intoxicating scent of fresh jasmine and vanilla. To make the darling his and only his.
These desires were far from righteous, oh he is well aware. He has long since given up on trying to force a lid onto his carnal thoughts. The Prince is too tempting, he tells himself. This is far from his fault, he assures.
'Yet such chaos.'
His brows crinkle in the slightest and his lips nearly curl into a frown. He recalls the frustration that he feels towards Amaurë. The loathing that he holds for the son of discord. An incarnate of chaos.
'He must be kept under order.'
He sucks in a breath.
'I must quell this fire within him.'
A faint, twisted smile finds his lips. His amber hues glint with a flash of excitement.
'I must tame him — I must maintain order. . . I need to have him.'
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just...just wanna give amaure so many kisses. just wanna tell him it's okay. just want to tell him he's not a monster, that he's always My Prince...just....
if amaurë could, he would tear up at such lovely gestures. he bites back the urge to simply collapse into your arms and cry his heart out into your shoulder. instead he shakily takes your hands in his, smiling despite his glossy eyes and trembling countenance. “I love you, my moon," he'd whisper, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
it's times like this, when his insecurities grow and he knows not who to turn to. he appreciates your support and always finds himself relying on you.
♡. wanna know more about amaurë? discover more here
Author's Note: So yeah, I had one more of these left and (like the others) I wasn't going to abandon it. This one was given to me by @edensrose. Enjoy!
Pairing: Amaurë (OC) x Eönwë
Prompt: Breathless kisses (no. 23 of this lovely post)
Synopsis: After another training fight, Amaurë has a surprise for Eönwë.
Warnings: /
"Ready for another round?"
A smile appears on Eönwë's lips when he sees Amaurë nod before getting back into position. The prince's cheeks are flushed, and he's slightly out of breath after their last round of practice, but determination lights up in his magenta eyes when he holds up his sword.
"I am."
"Excellent. Prepare yourself."
Eönwë eyes the young Vala for a moment. His posture is flawless, the result of many hours of training, but whether he will be able to maintain it and keep up with him is a different question altogether; and he won't make it easy.
Swift like a gust of wind, he strikes.
Amaurë defends.
Well done. There's no time to utter praise, though Eönwë will be sure to do so after.
Another. Same result. He will have to be more creative this time.
Eönwë feints, then follows up with a swift strike. Amaurë manages to block again, but only just; he fell for it long enough to falter ever so slightly in his rhythm.
And that's all Eönwë needs. His next attack knocks Amaurë out of balance, and the one after successfully disarms him.
He lowers his sword and beholds the panting, blushing prince in front of him, fondness rising in his chest.
"How are you so strong," Amaurë breathes, though there's no frustration in his tone, only admiration and a soft hint of something else that Eönwë can't quite place.
"Something tells me that I will say the same about you one day," he replies, smiling and patting his shoulder.
Amaurë places his hands on his shoulders in return. Before Eönwë can even ponder the meaning of such a gesture, he is taken aback by the feeling of warm, plush lips pressing against his, rosy and tender like the light of dawn. He stands still while the prince kisses him, his suddenly forgotten sword clattering to the ground.
He tastes like honey and peaches...
Eönwë remains frozen when Amaurë breaks the kiss, caressing his cheek as he withdraws.
"I am sorry," he whispers, "maybe I shouldn't have –"
"No. Please don't apologise, I..." Eönwë searches for the right words to express what he's feeling. "It was... very nice."
He's unable to gaze into those eyes any longer, now a softer shade of pink, regarding him with such warmth and affection that he's tempted to abandon his fána and melt into the air around them.
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Synopsis: Eönwë admires his prince, wishing he could be his.
Warnings: /
Drabble
He is royalty. He is off-limits.
Amaurë sits by the Elder King's side, breathtakingly beautiful and elegant like a Valarin prince is meant to be, keeping his hands folded in his lap while listening to Manwë talking to Noldorin emissaries.
Eönwë tries his best to keep his gaze on them as well, yet his eyes keep wandering back to Amaurë. His hand resting on the hilt of his sword tightens its grip, and he exhales slowly in an attempt to banish his forbidden feelings, his longing for the prince.
"Of course,'' grins the maia as he stretches his limbs, like a lazy cat before rising from his sitting position. "Admittedly I haven't fought in some time. So will my Prince go easy on me?" Vanimóre winks and extends his hand to the other still seated, who gingerly takes his hand.
Amaurë smiles tepidly but dusts off his robes with his free hand. "Well, if you are certain. . . If you haven't fought in a while, would it not be better for you to practice a bit first?" His words trail off when the taller man leans in with his amused little smirk, pulls him in by the hand still around his and arches his brow.
"Is His Highness afraid of hurting me? I feel honoured.'' He tucks some of Amaurë's strands behind his ear. His smirk bleeding into a toothy grin as his crimson hue twinkles with amusement.
"Lómindil. . .'' the other murmurs, ears drooping with bashfulness before he pushes at the maia's shoulder playfully and advances forward. "Fine then,'' he spins after walking a decent distance and unsheaths his sword that always rested on hip. Marvelling at the gleam it reflects from the morning sun. As though it was kissed by the grace of dawn itself. The blade is held with such care yet pride as well as it points towards its new target.
"On guard.''
Vanimóre's eye lights up and a wider grin befalls his lips. His whistle is greeted by slicing through the air and his own blade soon appears in view. Hovering in front of him with its slithered red eye. With a waft of his hand, it eagerly throws its handle into his palm.
"Let's see what you've got.''
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⊱· ❀ ·⊰
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
"Fuck. . .''
Damn, when was the last time his opponent actually knocked him down? Was it his sister? That blasted peacock?
Vanimóre doesn't bother thinking. The pain swelling around his legs and sides left him coughing out spit as he attempts to push himself up onto his knees.
"I told you it would have been a good idea to practice first - your muscles are probably unaccustomed. . . I really was going easy,'' Amaurë frowns and crouches to the other. Gently aiding him into a sitting position.
'That was going easy?' Vanimóre feels a pang to his pride. Somewhere along the sparring match he quickly started giving his all. But it turns out that those adorably cute features and gentle smiles were deceptive. Whatever he just fought was a beast.
"Are you hurt?" The prince asks, voice swarming with guilt as he presses the back of his palm to a pale cheek. Biting down his pain, Vanimóre forces a grin in favour of assuring the younger. "I'll be fine. Unless you'd like to give me some compensation?" He croons, craning his face in and feeling his pride recover at the flustered look on Amaurë's face.
"Compensation. . ?''
"So cruel of you, my Prince. Won't you kiss it better? This poor maia is oh so wounded after fighting such a valiant warrior,'' he whines dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. Only to chuckle when Amaurë wastes no time in peppering kisses all over his face.
That, however, does not stop Vanimóre from making a brisk mental note.
'Avoid the sparring. Lest I want my ass handed back to me again.'
