#tilion x reader

Mairon

𓂀 Once your heart is his, Mairon makes sure to live up to his reputation as the Lord of Gifts and the Lord of the Rings. Whether it is to seal a bond of marriage, asking for your hand or a promise of love and courtship, he crafts a beautiful ring just for you - showing everyone that you are now his and possibly also enhancing said ring with a few spells so he can watch over you.

𓂀 Yet gold is not the only way for him to mark your body; he also loves to use his fire to ensure neither you nor anyone else will ever forget where you belong. Mairon's preferred symbol to draw on your skin is The Eye, and he loves to place it right on your neck or chest so he can see it every time he takes you.

𓂀 His love and desire for you take many forms, as does he; when in the shape of a vampire, he enjoys biting you and drinking your blood while he makes love to you, strengthening the bond between you. He may sing to you to keep you calm while he feeds, and his song causes the wound and the vein he drank from to appear golden for a time until it slowly fades. Mairon expects you to wear those marks with pride and not cover them up.

𓂀 Whenever his form has more wolfish attributes, he also likes leaving bite marks, but his favorite feature is his knot. He loves how it swells inside you and stretches you out while he breeds you and how it keeps his seed inside until he decides he's done with you for the night.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Do you think you can take it?" 

Mairon slams into you with the full strength of his fána, making sure you can feel every inch of his hot, hard cock stretching you out without mercy. 

"Do you think you can take my knot, my precious little slut?" 

You barely manage to nod before a searing hot sensation makes you cry out in pain and pleasure alike. The eye symbol, proudly adorning your chest, glows in response to his words, like on the day when you were first marked by his hand. 

Satisfied with your obedience, Mairon stops moving and allows his seed to fill you. His knot swells proudly, binding you to him, and you try to muffle another scream — only for him to deter you with a quick slap on your thigh. 

"No," he says firmly, "let me hear it. I want to hear how much you love this, and you will not deny me."

Gothmog

☄ Contrary to popular belief, Gothmog can be affectionate and isn't afraid to show it. He likes to keep you close in public and holds you like a pretty little doll, making it clear to everyone that you belong to him and no one else may come close to you, let alone touch you. Even when he isn't around, the scent of fire and heat of his touch seems to surround you everywhere you go.

☄ Yet make no mistake: The Lord of Balrogs is incredibly strong and likes it rough. He may use his claws and fangs to as part of passionate love making and leave bite and scratch marks in strategic spots to ensure that everyone knows he has claimed you. Carry your marks with pride: To Balrogs, they are a symbol of strength and a sign that you belong.

☄ Gothmog's favorite way to claim and mark you, however, is fire - but he won't use his whip unless you ask him to. Instead, he may opt to simply use his hands to leave a nice and warm hand print on your skin; the same applies to any sort of impact play where he uses his hands instead of any tools. The touch of a Balrog leaves a lingering feeling of either cosy warmth or searing heat, and which one it will be is his choice to make.

☄ Aside from horns that you can hold on to, Gothmog also has a tail - and yes, he can and will use it. Not only is it a convenient as an additional limb to wrap around you and pull you close when his hands and arms are occupied and to keep others away from you, but he can also use it to fuck you if he so chooses, be it to tease you or for double penetration. He loves to test your limits.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"What a pretty little thing you are." Gothmog pats your head with his large hand while he continues to effortlessly bounce you on his lap as if you weigh nothing. 

You would have cried out from the intensity of his massive cock thrusting in and out of you rapidly, but all you manage is a muffled moan; your mouth is currently occupied by the tip of his tail. 

"We don't need the entire fortress to hear you," Gothmog said beforehand, and you agreed. 

He is — for his standards — gentle with you, but you also know that there isn't much mercy to be had in Angband. You consider yourself lucky to be with him. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Gothmog rakes the claws of his free hand down your back and chuckles when he feels your throat vibrate with muted screams. 

"And so good for me too," he adds to his previous statement. "Keep taking me so nicely and I might even let you rest after this round."

Eönwë

⚔ As sweet and affectionate as Eönwë is with you in private, he's not exactly fond of others trying to compete, particularly during avian mating season. He stays with you whenever he can, guarding you like a precious treasure, and watches the people who approach you, both when's nearby and when he's somewhere else. Should another suitor be so foolish as to approach you anyway, they will soon notice a very irate Maia glaring at them and posturing aggressively, every single feather fluffed up.

⚔ While you two are still courting and not quite ready for marriage yet, Eönwë presents you with a lovely promise bracelet or anklet (your choice), made of his favorite materials that he gathered himself. Nothing makes him happier than seeing you wear it, and conveniently enough it also serves as a reminder to other suitors that you are very much taken - by the chief of the Maiar, no less.

⚔ When Eönwë makes love to you, he can be gentle, but he can also be feral. Sometimes his desire simply overwhelms him. Depending on his current form, he has talons on his hands and will make use of them to mark you, even drawing ancient patterns on you to show everyone who claimed you. You can also expect to find yourself covered in love bites, with his favorite area being your neck.

⚔ If you enjoy rough sex and agree to try out some more "extreme" kinks, Eönwë would love to make use of his sword - the song of steel and battle is ingrained in his very being, after all. As much as the rational part of him hates to see you hurt, the feral part of him is fascinated by the way you shiver when a cold blade is pressed against you or when it leaves beautiful lines of red on your skin and draws a few droplets of blood.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cold steel bites into your skin as the blade touches your throat, but you only have eyes for Eönwë. He's breathing heavily, and his fána glows with barely contained lust. 

"I want you," he breathes. 

You spread your legs in silent invitation. Surely he must know that you are already his; even if you decided to fight back now, which is the last thing on your mind, he would be too strong for you. 

"Exactly like this," Eönwë says then, and you understand. He wants to take you with his sword at your throat, utterly at his mercy, and your skin prickles with excitement. 

The prospect of submitting to the greatest warrior of the Maiar so completely is thrilling. 

Eönwë enters you with one swift thrust, his free hand reaching for your hip. You make sure not to move, as you know he wants from you, and welcome him inside. The blade presses against your skin, but only lightly; his hold is steady, his posture impeccable, no blood is drawn. 

You surrender. 

Tilion

☽ Tilion loves antlers, his pride and joy when it comes to his fána, and wants to share that with you. If you yourself are an Ainu and grow your own pair, he will paint them silver with moonlight. If not, he will gladly hunt beasts of your choosing for you to claim their horns or antlers as a prize for you to wear and paint them as well. Nothing makes him more proud than everyone seeing that you belong to him.

☽ In order to make sure you are always safe, even when he isn't around, Tilion also crafts protective moon charms, infused with the light of Telperion's fruit. These are designed to keep creatures of darkness away, fearing his wrath, and may also glow to alert you to nearby danger. Not least of all they come with the additional benefit of letting everyone know that Tilion is only ever one call away.

☽ He loves to be intimate with you whenever he can, worshiping your body to his heart's content. Like his own hunt and war paint, Tilion enjoys painting your skin with matching patterns. These are expressions of love and companionship, glowing hymns to your beauty, but also marks of ownership and desire.

☽ For as hopelessly romantic as Tilion is, never forget that he's also a hunter. When lust overwhelms him, he is a passionate and wild lover, and sex with him can get rough. He enjoys chasing you, catching you and holding you down while he takes you, as well as leaving bite marks all over your body. Rest assured though that he will take good care of you after and do anything to ensure that you're comfortable and at ease.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"You are too beautiful for your own good," Tilion sighs, smiling as he kisses you on the lips. 

You are both naked, lying together on a bed of moss in the woods of Oromë, and panting heavily after a wild and lengthy chase. Of course your lover has caught you in the end and carried you to a comfortable hidden spot to enjoy his prey. 

Tilion trails his hand down your chest, your stomach, your lower body, and you spread your legs in anticipation. He wants you, you can see it; his midnight blue eyes darken with desire. 

"There you go, little deer," whispers gentle praise against your lips before pushing two fingers inside of you. "You will be all nice and wet for me soon, won't you?" 

You nod. Of course you will be; how could you not when you are with your beloved hunter, chasing your love and your pleasure with no less determination and ferocity than he chases his prey. 

Ossë

⚡︎ Ossë is a capricious and jealous lover. His feelings for you are strong and passionate, and he will fight anyone who wishes you ill - or comes closer than he would like. The storms he conjures are mighty, and even if Ulmo and Uinen stop him from giving in to his jealousy, Ossë is also a mischievous Maia who will find other ways to mess with those who have wronged you or him.

⚡︎ You will find yourself getting showered with gifts from him, various trinkets that he picks up in the oceans of Arda: Pearls, seashells, items and parts from sunken ships, bones, teeth and also all sorts of fish and sea creatures he caught for you. Ossë delights in swimming, diving and hunting to his heart's content, but most importantly coming home to you with something new to show you.

⚡︎ Just like he himself is wild and fierce, so is intimacy with him. You will find yourself completely soaked, regardless of whether he takes you in the water (as he prefers) or outside, and covered in bite and scratch marks; Ossë simply can't resist taking a bite out of something as beautiful as you are. He also loves the thought that everyone can tell what you two have done afterwards.

⚡︎ Ossë enjoys being on top of you, all around you and inside you, having his tail wrapped tightly around you. After he's done making love to you, he likes carrying you around like a precious little pearl and singing to you in ancient tongues until you fall asleep. You may also notice that, whenever you've been with him, the scent of seawater sticks with you for days.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

The sand feels warm against your skin, but Ossë's form is cool and smooth. He rolls over so he's lying on top of you, his tail wrapping around your legs, and flashes you a toothy grin, like a hungry sea monster about to devour its unfortunate prey. 

"Should I take you here, marilla? Or should I drag you to the bottom of the ocean first?" he teases. 

Clawed, webbed fingers hold onto you possessively, and Ossë wastes no time nibbling on the side of your neck as you writhe underneath him. 

"Please have mercy, o lord of storms," you gasp, entertaining his little game to entice him to go on. 

You know your words had the intended effect when you feel something hard pressing against your thigh. 

"Perhaps I will," Ossë muses, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

His tail keeps its grip on your legs, and he pushes his now-exposed cock between your thighs to rut against you.

"We will even start slowly," he whispers, "but worry not. You shall feel my full strength soon enough."

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

marilla (Quenya) - pearl

Thanks for reading! ♡

Drawn by the sights and sounds of Iluvatar's children, Eonwe found himself in the crowded streets of a market. Vendors shouted over one another, peddling their wares with prices echoing in the narrow streets. Faces peeked out from crumbling buildings, and birds flitted about, dodging the half-hearted swats of annoyed residents.

He was lost in these sights, a Maia out of place in the noisy, bustling chaos, when his steps collided with yours. The force pulled you forward, and in an instant, his arms moved on instinct, steadying you before the ground could claim your fall.

His hands wrapped around you, holding you close. Eyes blazing with the light of the Flame Imperishable met his own, hidden beneath the shadow of his hood. Time itself seemed to pause.

He noticed everything. The small gasp that escaped your lips, the way your fingers clutched at his cloak, the warmth of your body against his own. Even your hair, cascading like a stream of silk along his arm, seemed to burn itself into his memory.

Eonwe stood frozen, his mind caught in the strange trance of the moment until a passerby jostled him from his stupor.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice low and steady as he helped you stand.

Color rushed to your cheeks as you glanced up at him. “Are... are you an elf?” you whispered, eyes darting toward the marketplace. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Without waiting for a response, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the bustling streets, away from prying eyes. He followed, silent and curious, his hood slipping slightly as he glanced back at the market fading into the distance.

You glare back and without a hesitation pull his hood back up, "Seriously, why did they send a new one alone." You mutter to yourself, slipping through alleys.

You led him to a modest house at the edge of the marketplace, its weathered walls no better than the houses he had seen in the market. Closing the door behind you, you turned to face him, pouring a glass of water from a chipped pitcher before sinking into a rickety chair.

“Did Rómestámo not inform you of our meeting place?” you asked, your voice edged with quiet frustration as you pushed the glass toward him.

And that was how he met you. A Secondborn with peculiar markings etched upon your skin. A fiery symbol on your wrist and scars that spoke of battles long fought.

You were the leader of a revolution in the East, a beacon of hope for the downtrodden and oppressed. That day, Eonwe came to witness the Flame Imperishable in a way he never had before.

Not as the unyielding fire of creation, but as the kind that burned bright against the darkness of evil. The kind that defied the judgment of the mighty and the learned. A single flame, flickering amid the shifting sands of the East, yet strong enough to light the way.

He found himself drawn to it. Drawn to you. Like a moth to light.

What had begun as a simple errand became a journey he chose to repeat. He returned time and again, taking on countless guises. The unnamed informant from Rivendell, a wandering Avari, or a silent shadow among the dunes.

He returned to bask in the music of the Secondborn, in the fire that defied all despair.

Until the day the flame flickered out.

When no songs called to him from the East, when the light he had followed was no more.

And in that silence, he mourned the passing of a light he had come to cherish, even as the winds of the desert swept away all trace of what once had been.

Tilion:

He, the moon, remains the most beloved of the Children of Iluvatar, even to those said to be of the Sun's lineage.

The Quendi have sung countless odes to his silvery light, their voices weaving tales of his steadfast love for Arien. Beasts of his Vala rest most deeply under his glow.

Yet, it is not their songs or their reverence that pierces his heart, it is the heavy-lidded eyes of the Secondborn, gazing upward with the wonder of fawns seeking solace in their mother’s warmth.

Lovers have serenaded him, their voices rising like soft waves, laying bare their hearts beneath his light. Tilion has seen love unfold in quiet corners and shuttered windows, its warmth nurtured in the hush of his glow.

Some sing of his scars, others of his pride. Poets, who long ago forgot the faces of their mortal loves, have turned their affections toward him.

But tonight, his path halts.

Tilion’s gaze falls upon a small courtyard, where a woman crouches over scattered papers. The wind teases at her work, sending loose sheets spiraling into the night. She does not notice. Her quill moves with an urgency untethered to the world around her.

Curiosity stirs the Maia. He descends, his light caressing the scene below, painting the scattered papers in hues of silver. And then, he sees it.

On the pages spread around you, his face stares back.

Sketch after sketch, each line etched with painstaking care. The proud curve of his jaw. The sorrow resting like a shadow in his eyes. The faint scars tracing his visage.

Details so precise they feel alive. Each page captures him, not as a vague reflection of his light but as though the artist had stood before him and committed him to memory.

Tilion’s breath stills. He has seen countless tributes inspired by his light, but never this. Never something so raw, so achingly intimate.

A mortal who knew his face.

Not the idea of him, not the ethereal glow he cast upon the world, but him. His true form, rendered by a hand moved by something far beyond understanding.

Below, you remain lost in your frenzy. The quill moves ceaselessly, heedless of the blood that stains the coarse paper. Around you, the night stretches on, its silence broken only by the relentless scratching of your quill.

You draw, and Tilion watches.

He cannot leave.

Not until the Sun’s rays push his light from the sky.

And as his glow fades, he sees the stains where your tears have fallen, smudging the lines into blurred whispers of despair.

This frenzy, this helpless act, is born of an impulse with no discernible cause in your mortal life. A yearning that cannot be named.

For the short days you are granted, your nights belong to Tilion. Your madness, or whatever enchantment has woven itself into your soul, leaves you capable of little else.

It is as if a single note in your song was sung wrong. A fault so profound it aches. Like the oceans that rise to meet him, only to be bound by the Earth’s relentless pull, this longing is a futile agony.

And Tilion, in his waxing and waning, cannot soothe it. He cannot ease the torment that was built into your being by the hands that shaped you.

So, he lingers. He lets his light remain longest over you. On nights when your voice rises in song, Tilion stands beside you, among the scattered pages of his likeness. His hand brushes yours, and sometimes, in those fleeting moments, he swears he feels them still beneath his touch.

Let us not forget his avian side which is going to fawn over how adorable you are. You’re tiny and squishy, perfect for belonging in his nest where he can shower you in affection all day long.

The size difference is outstanding. Just picture a baby lying in their parents' bed, looking like a little nugget among the pillows…that’s what you appear like anytime you snuggle in his bed. On numerous occasions, he didn’t see you and almost squished you under the sheets.

With your size, it means wearing his robes and marching around his room or Ilmarin pretending to be him while he silently watches from afar. You are drowning in his robes, don’t even wear his shirt, it’s a gown on you.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Irmo

Your size doesn’t change the way he’s going to shower you with ultimate love and affection. Apart from the minor teasing he’ll conduct for the fun of the situation, Irmo loves you the same way if you are tall.

A gentleman who enjoys using the opportunities when granted to lift you over puddles or streams so he can fawn over how you fit in his arms. He (and the others) can lift you with his pinkie and has done it before.

You are authorised to always sleep on his chest—you look like a kitten sleeping on his chest in his eyes—mainly because you like to roll and so does he and nothing good has arisen from you both rolling together.

Gets lost in crowds and he panics. He’ll be walking around asking if anyone has seen his little lover and he will give descriptions. “They’re about 5 feet, this short and very tiny. They look like an elfling…”

Saw children’s clothing on a walk with you in a boutique, did not know they were for children and excitedly stated, “Oh look! I believe these would look lovely on you! They even have your colours.”

Do not be upset with him, he didn’t know that it was children’s clothing. Irmo only wished to share the moment of shopping with you. But worry not, he gathers the best seamstresses and tailors to fashion you the finest wear that looks nothing like children’s clothes.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Námo

Has a smile on his face anytime you take the lead and walk in front of him, hence his reason for always telling you to lead the way. He’s a simple Vala, he wants to watch as you waddle like a duck with your short legs as you take him to Eru knows where.

Pretends to complain when you ‘borrow’ his robes because you missed him, but gushes mentally at the sight of how you’re drowning in his forever monochromatic black robes.

His viridian eyes were soft at the sight of you walking around, dragging his robes all over. The idea of complaining about getting them dirty has disappeared, and all he is thinking about is how you look like a penguin.

Your feet running across his halls are the equivalent of tiny pitter-patter and it’s how he can easily distinguish your presence; just listen for the tiny footsteps. But it never works out well when you’re among elves and lost in a crowd.

The first time you met his brother, Irmo mistook you for a child Námo adopted and congratulated his brother on softening up to the idea of children. To make matters worse, you played along—much to Námo’s annoyance—and clung to his arm, calling him ‘atar/daddy’.

Irmo was elated, you were dying of laughter and Námo was contemplating his life. He couldn’t believe this was the humour he signed up for the moment he fell in love with someone shorter than most individuals.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Ulmo

Mistook you for the child wandering the shores the first time he saw you in the distance and scolded you for playing in the deep waters without parental supervision. That was until he learned you weren’t a child and your permanent height for a lifetime.

‘Pebble’ was the most suitable nickname he gifted you since pebbles were small and cute…like you. Plus, he brings you pebbles, seashells and pearls from the ocean floor as a token of affection.

Because you’re smaller, your strokes as you swim alongside him are slower, so he’ll call the seals, dolphins or whales to swim alongside you for assistance. You’re even allowed to ride them anytime you two are swimming out in the depths.

Since Ulmo’s true form is staggering, he opts to appear around the same height as you are anytime he has to walk the earth. His favourite place to have walks would be the beach obviously.

Hand holding while watching the sunset and he’s quietly staring at your short fingers holding his larger hand. He loves holding your hand to fawn over the size. He would even slip on a cute ring with a pearl one day.

Because Ulmo is known for having no resting place as he wanders the waters of the world, he enjoys visiting your home. It’s even better if you live near a lake for him to have easier access to seeing you frequently. Cue Ulmo marvels at how small your household items are as he picks them up.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Oromë

Congratulations, you are the perfect size to sit on all of his creatures (and him) to ride through the forest with him. He cannot get over your tiny figure because he knows that you’re about the same size as an elfling and all his creatures are larger than you.

Roughhousing is a thing that occurs between you both and he gets caught up in the experience to forget how easily he can send you on a trip to Estë for healing…because it has happened multiple times.

Picks you up like a sack of potatoes and slings you over his shoulder when he has to carry you somewhere and you’re being troublesome, or he wants to randomly surprise you. You’re as light as a feather as he runs with you through the forest.

Swinging from his muscular arms anytime he flexes his muscles for you? Yes, yes you do, and he loves it. Fuels his ego to know that he’s strong and his lover can climb him like a tree. Clinging to his muscular physique and probably biting him? Yes, you do that he calls you a tiny beast who needs to be tamed.

Not the type to underestimate the size of a creature you can ride because of your size but is also cautious at the same time. Wanted to gift you a Shetland pony because you were small enough to ride one, but back out last minute knowing that he would receive an earful. Gave you a giant-sized tiger or dog as a companion.

You wear his pelts and pretend to act like him, attempting to wield his bow—sweetheart, you couldn’t even draw the strings—as though you were hunting.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tulkas

No different from Oromë and will playfight with you using the strength in his pinkie finger and you’d still have to bandage some body parts because accidents happen all the time. No worries though, he praises your injuries and makes you feel as though you fought a great battle with him.

He has no doubts, dismisses your strengths and associates them with your size having seen many great warriors display outstanding strengths and feats despite their size. Instead, he encourages you to take pride in your size and all the greatness you can accomplish.

You got a workout buddy, or rather he got a new dumbbell to lift or someone to sit on his back for push-ups. Your weight is inconsequential, but it doesn’t stop you from enjoying the fun in the moment.

Also picks you up like a sack of potatoes and carries you around the place, introducing you to all his close friends and elves. Anytime you need to speak ‘eye-level’ with him, instead of going to lengths to climb tables or a tree, he’ll kneel to your level.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Melkor

Getting called dwarf, child, or both the first time you meet will result in him changing the names and calling you a critter if you attempt to attack him for calling you short. Probably ‘ankle biter’ might be your new name because he denoted that small things have the most rage.

You’re a ferocious ankle-biter in his eyes whose nerves he enjoys getting on because your responses are hilarious. It’s all in jest…or maybe not.

Nothing of his will ever fit you, that also means trying to wear his crown with the Silmarils. It’s currently sitting on your neck as we speak. All you can do is make versions of his outfits tailored to your size.

You’re smaller, so his hands can cover your entire face. Know what that means? Squish your cheeks as you speak to admire how soft and dough-like they are. “Hm, ankle biter, you have remarkably soft cheeks,” he says while squishing your face.

There’s nothing you can climb on to meet his height because he makes sure that there isn’t anything around. He wants you to break your neck looking up at him (bite his ankles and he’ll reach your height).

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Eönwë

“You’re like a hummingbird minus the speed,” he chuckled upon the first sight of your tiny figure. You were lucky he didn’t consider you a lost child who wandered before him in search of help because he was ready to call you ‘child’.

I have to say, Eӧnwё is the best person to try the same ‘daddy’ prank on when you’re walking through the streets of Valimar but clinging to him and acting like a child for the elves to fawn over how adorable the interaction is. There is always an elf who inquires for you to look them in the eye and say, “This is my atya!”

His avian side adores your tininess; and makes you all the more delicate and squishable. You are never again going to leave the nest…just joking, but his protective side goes up a notch because you are TINY.

I mean, he loses you in a crowd easily and you can’t even jump high enough to show your location. You can climb a table or chair but still have to get past the sea of heads before Eӧnwё spots you.

Gets you the smaller version of everything so you don’t have to struggle with holding the larger objects. He once watched as you climbed a chair as if it were a mountain or fought with a glass of wine because the glass was too big to hold.

At least going on flights doesn’t change whether you’re extra small or bigger. Visits in the morning and takes you to watch the sunrise over the mountain from a bird’s eye view.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Tilion

Doesn’t matter if you’re tiny or tall, you still look the same from his view in the sky as he guides the moon. But he does melt at the sight of you looking up at the moon.

You are forever his ‘little deer’ even though you’re probably feisty and love to bite or nibble on his arms all the time. Similar to Oromë, carries you around like a sack of potatoes over his shoulder, but more for the fun of watching your short legs dangle.

Doesn’t alter the size of any furniture so he can observe your legs dangling over the edges and sway, or the size difference between you and the table designed for a nine-foot entity.

Roughhousing is a constant must-have between you both because he adores pinning your smaller body under his and making you fight back. Tilion just wants to watch you struggle and wiggle like a worm. Bite him.

Puts you to sleep on top of him because it is the safest option unless you want to be crushed under a giant nine-foot Maia, and you look like a tiny kitten curled up on his chest. The only thing he hasn’t done is pick you up by your scruff.

He’s such a tease when it comes to you both riding through the forest. Tilion will purposefully place you behind him so you can’t see a thing and then tease you about being too small. But it’s all in jest because he’ll have you ride an elk or reindeer or even a pony that was handpicked to match your size.

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Mairon

He also assumed you’re an ankle biter as well because he called you short and you were ready to attack. Please, do not release him from your tyranny because he will make fun of your height and pat your head or rest his arm atop your head when he’s resting. Again, bite him.

Complains about your short legs and how slow you are when you’re walking side-by-side but comes to you later to ask for assistance because some tool of his fell into a small hole and you’re tiny enough to get it.

Tells you that he’ll feed you to his wolves if you don’t stop clinging to him when in truth, he loves it. You’re small enough to not be a distraction as he moves about his forge or the fortress, but it’s just Mairon being a tsundere.

Doesn’t see you lying in his bed because his bed is huge and you’re extra small, so he almost lies atop your body. It’s turned into a staring match like how children stare you down without blinking.

Has a tendency to carry you around, for funsies, by holding onto your belt or grabbing the back of your clothes so you dangle as he powers through the corridors until he arrives at his Lord holding you like a briefcase.

Deep down, as much as he teases your size, he enjoys the differences. Watching you fight to lift an object made for his size or dress in his clothes—if you’re brave enough to try this—is entertaining.

Masterlist

- Because of Morgoth, he doesn't appreciate someone cruel and who would willingly take advantage of others. He would withhold the moonlight from them if he saw them trying to exploit it, letting them be unguided in darkness. 

- He also gives the impression that he would accept you regardless of your race.

- If you were a maiar, the chances are that you have known each other before he became the guardian of the moon. 

- If you served under the same valar, Orome, you would often wander and hunt together. You might share the same appreciation for the silver tree and would not mind Tilion’s adventurous nature. 

- If you served a different valar, Tilion would often come to visit you and encourage you to go on adventures together. He would respect your boundaries if you preferred to stay near your valar’s domain and bring you interesting things he found on his travels. 

- When he became the moon’s guardian, you would rarely see each other. The distance would sadden you, but whenever it was time for the moon to rest, you would see each other again and Tilion would share news about the world, especially if you did not leave Valinor. 

- However, if you travel outside of Valinor, Tilion would look out for you during the night especially if you fight Morgoth and his darkness. You would sing to each other as a way to communicate and appreciate the moments together whenever Tilion decides to come down. This would give birth to many stories of you and Tilion wherever you happened to be seen together by the children of Eru. 

- If you were tempted by Morgoth and joined him, Tilion would feel saddened and betrayed. He would have a hard time accepting your reason to join Morgoth and grow even more resentful toward the fallen valar. He would sometimes search for you on the land, and if you did not repent and stayed in the dark, he would mourn for your fate and eventually leave you out of his mind. 

- However, if he saw how you wished to repent and sought to return to the light, he would feel happy and help you if Morgoth tried to prevent you. He would also ask the Valars to give you a chance and stay by you whatever your punishment might be. 

- If you were an elf, he would find you curious. He might have some knowledge of how the courting among elves worked, taken he had interacted with the elves of Orome’s hunting parties, so he would not hesitate to approach you. 

- He might not even notice the feelings he would catch for you, but when he does, he would first seek and learn appropriate ways before confessing. He might get excited and become eager to achieve when he sets his eyes on something, but he still respects boundaries and does not want to come out that he might scare you away. 

- It would not matter to him which elven clan you belonged to as he valued personality over such things. 

- If you were a Noldor, he would be curious to learn from you as your people were known to be great craftsmen and passionate. During the darkening, his affection for you would shake if you followed Feanor and participated in kinslaying, he would be sad by the event and it would take a long time for him to even look at you again. If you did not join the kinslaying but followed your people out of loyalty, he would respect it and feel sad because you would also suffer the doom of Mandos. During your time in Middle Earth, he would look down and subtly look out for you when things get rough. 

- if you were a Teleri, he would find thrill and joy in your people's outgoing nature and love for sea travel. He might even join you if you were especially adventurous when it comes to the ocean. During the darkening and kinslaying, he would be there to comfort and protect you and your family. If you survived, and have been left heavily traumatized, Tilion might not know how to comfort you through your grief but he would try. He would even hesitate to become the moon's guardian which meant leaving you in your hardest time, so he would always come to you whenever he could. If you died during the attack, he would grieve and feel resentment toward the Noldor.

- If you were a Vanyar, he would find you interesting as you would most likely remind him of the golden tree Laurelin and his beloved friend Arien. However, he would adore you regardless and you might bring out the mischievousness of him. 

- If you were a Sindar, Tilion would find you curious as he would have less knowledge about your people. He would find beauty in your home and respect your determined yet loving nature, especially if you shared your love for him and the stars. 

- If you were human, he would find your race incredibly curious. You might have crossed paths when he was down and did something that piqued his interest. Humans are much more different from elves, so he would be both amazed and excited to learn more. If you shared a love for the stars and found comfort in the moon, he would be even more delighted.

- He would be saddened to realize that you would not live as long as he does and would eventually leave the world behind, but he would accept it. All living beings have their own life cycles, and death is a natural part of yours. He would cherish the time he still had with you and would not allow any of it to be wasted until it was your time to travel to the unknown. 

- Or perhaps, in some twist of fate, you become immortal for him, giving away your gift of dying. Tilion would feel joy to have you by his side, but would treat you gently as immortality was not something that came naturally for humans and that it was not a choice anyone should make out of a whim. However, if you assured him that you were certain of your choice and that you wished to stay with him, then he would cherish you for eternity. 

- Tilion also gives the impression that he and Arien share a great friendship. Perhaps during moments when they are both in the sky or during an eclipse, he would speak fondly of you, and Arien would be happy for him. She might even keep an eye out for you during the day and share the news with Tilion if something happens.

.°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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And this was how he found you after making his way inside, into your bedroom: snug under your pelts and blissfully asleep. He padded up to the bed, barefoot as always, and took a moment to just watch you—how your chest rose with each breath, how you sighed contentedly into your pillows. A brief moment was all he took, before slipping out of his garments and making his way under the covers. Tilion was freed of his duties for this night, and he wanted to make the most of it, for he didn't know when he would be able to come again.

"Little star," he breathed softly before pressing his lips to the nape of your neck. 

It had been so long, so very long since he had last seen you. As guardian of both the moon and Ilinsor, Tilion had to spend most of his time in Ilmen, in the starry heavens, a place you could never go to. He had to come to Arda instead to see you. Not the he minded, not one bit. Tilion considered the journey worth it if it meant an hour spent in your company.

"My love," you mumbled as his kisses continued unabated. Tilion pressed one sweet kiss after another, sneaking an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. That woke you—the arm around your waist, the lips against your neck. He had come back to you. "You're here." You turned and pressed your lips against his. "You're really here."

Tilion smiled as he moved onto his back and held you over him. "I am here, little star. What happened while I was away?"

You told him, holding nothing back. You told him about the spring planting and the picnics, about the wizards' fireworks and the swims in the lake. Tilion arched a brow at this.

"Swimming?" he said, his voice as soft as his kiss. "With whom?"

"Just my friends," you snickered. Tilion was jealous; it was there in that sudden flash in his silvery eyes. "You have met them, Melara and Sarell?"

Tilion remembered, of course. He was most embarrassed, and more than a little foolish. "I have," he said, his fingers curling around your hair. "I just wish I could do it with you."

"Perhaps we can do it now, while you're here," your skin warmed with each breath he took, and your body rose every time he exhaled. He didn't feel it, the weight of you over him, and you relished it, how his cool skin felt under you. It made it all real, to feel his fana shudder beneath your body. "The lake is not that far."

"Later," Tilion said, anticipating a late-night dip in the lake. But for now, he had other things in mind. He had to leave by dawn, and dawn was only a few hours away. "Until then, little star, come here."

This kiss was just as sweet as the others and so full of longing. Soft, bow-like lips opened over yours, the sweetness of them pouring into your mouth and leaving you breathless. You purred helplessly into that kiss, your entire body quivering when his tongue licked past your lips and flicked against yours. Tilion held you gently, as he always did, smiling into his kiss as you melted him.

He kissed you until you trembled, until you were a whimpering mess in his embrace. Impatient, he tugged at the wisps you called a shift over your head, tossing them to the floor so he could feel your skin against his. And his kisses grew hungry, so very hungry, like he had been deprived for many moons. If asked, Tilion would readily admit that he was deprived, of your touch, your body, your very presence. His kiss devoured and ignited needs that were dark and sinful, needs that only he could satisfy. You felt it in the blood pounding in your ears and in the heat pooling in your core. Those needs grew and grew, whipped at you like new coils, and rendered you weak to his ministrations. Oh, and how he did so, lavishing you with his attention and his touch. Tilion would run his hands all over your body—your arms, your thighs. He'd run his hands repeatedly over your hair as if he had never felt anything finer. And those hands of his—a hunter's hands, a warrior's hands—were firm and yet so gentle at the same time. How you missed it, dreamed of it.

 “I missed you, my love," you whispered shakily when you felt a hardening against your hip. He was as ready as you. "Will you be staying long this time?"

"Only till dawn, little star," Tilion murmured, his arms tightening around your waist. "So let us make this count, all right?"

There was no point in being disappointed. This was his duty, one he could not shake off. But he always came to you, and only you, the moment he was allowed to, and he didn't leave your side until he had no choice but to do so. You sat up, taking in his perfect countenance, the magnificent antlers that distinguished him from the other Maia, the snowy-white hair that spread across your pillows and glowed in the light of the full moon, and the eyes that only sought yours.

Till dawn, he said. Dawn was a good few hours away still, and there was plenty of time for the two of you to make the most of every moment before he had to go back. 

"Yes," you breathed and moved lower, your hands gripping his arms for support. "We should make this count, my love."

His grin matched yours, wanton and wicked. He gripped your hips while you hovered over him, gently guiding you onto him. How it jolted you, to feel the sheer length of him push deep inside you, to feel the waves of subtle pain and unimaginable pleasure that would wash over you again and again. Only Tilion could fill you like this, as if he were made for you, and you for him. And the sounds he made, deep and drugging, filled the silent room. How you couldn't get enough of it, those moans and whimpers of his. 

"I absolutely adore feeling you around me," he groaned, harsh and ragged, when you sheathed him completely. 

You hummed in triumph when that grip on your hips hardened as if wanting you to move. You waited instead, your hands gliding over his broad torso, over muscles that trembled beneath your palms, over skin that seemed to warm at your touch. "Just as much as I cannot get enough of you inside me," you nearly sobbed when he moved instead, his thrust reaching the deepest parts of you. 

Tilion kept a good grip on your hips, paying no mind to the fingers that dug into his arms. "Then move, little star," he growled. "Let me feel more of you."

You did, with slow, rocking movements. Your breath hitched as deft and nimble fingers made their way over your belly, as large hands glided up, slowly, oh so slowly, to the soft swell of your breasts. His touch was so gentle, so careful, and so skilled that each flick and caress stoked the fire already burning inside of you and made you moan.

How Tilion had hungered to hear it—the sounds you made when he gave you pleasure. All that time away, not feeling the warmth of your body or the sound of your voice; it was like torture for him, and now he feasted on every sound you made and on the tiniest movement of your body over his.

"That's it, little star," he moaned when you braced against his arms to go faster, your breath growing deeper with each passing moment. Tilion withdrew his hands and moved them to your hips agaib, bringing you down harder as pressure grew low in his belly. He felt it, in the ever-growing trembling in his fana, in the erratic movement of your body. A wave grew, one of unimaginable bliss, and if the wildness of that wave ruled him, it ruled you too. The two of you grew lost in each other, elf and Maia, bodies cleaving to each other, and that wave rose higher and higher, and the bliss with it, and then-

The world seemed to go white and stop spinning. His name parted your lips in a half-moan, half-whisper as your orgasm ripped through you. Strong hands held onto you, steadying you as a sweet haze of absolute satisfaction settled over you. So lost were you in that haze that you barely heard it—the deep, satisfying grunt as Tilion spilled his seed inside you.

Little could be heard, save for pelts slowly rustling and soft pants. Tilion held onto you, whispering sweet, soothing words even as he moved onto his side, taking you with him. He held onto you for as long as you needed, his hands brushing stray locks of hair out of your eyes. You blinked once, twice, before opening your eyes fully and looking up at him. His lips slowly curled into a lazy smile. 

"Little star," he whispered, his arms tightening around your waist as if he didn't want to let you go. "How I missed you so."

Tilion said many other things—things he had been wanting to say for the longest possible time. And you listened, the feelings you had for him growing even stronger. And the two of you held each other once more and loved each other once more, before the lure of a late-night swim in the lake proved too hard to pass up.

The separations were always hard, but nights like this made it all worth it.