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#Amillo
welcometolotr · 1 year
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Rúmil’s having a tough time (thanks to babby here) and Quennar is attempting to help out ;_; <3 
Rúmil squeezed his eyes shut. “I cannot ask that of you.” “You do not need to.” Quennar pulled his partner to face him again and pressed close, bringing their faces together so that he could lay a kiss on Rúmil’s forehead. He closed his eyes and accepted it, though his brows were still drawn together and his expression tense. Quennar pushed his nose into Rúmil’s and rubbed the outsides of his crossed arms, trying to convey warmth, and Rúmil finally opened his eyes and accepted the contact.
- TFO.II chapter 10: times are strange
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ibrithir-was-here · 2 years
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Drawing the Mouth of Sauron and getting that lovely mood board edit of the Silmaril Triplets made me want to pull up some more of my old concepts so here’s Melkor, Manwe and younger bro Amillo :D
2022
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Them as babies in 2021
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And my very earliest drawings of Amillo
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Plus some silly doodles I did today xD
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sugarysketches · 10 months
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.:Originally made June 12th, 2023:.
it fuckin hot
[character uses they/he pronouns]
[Do not tag as fatfur]
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The work that would eventually be published as The Silmarillion has deep roots, having been first written down in the 1910s when Tolkien was still a young man fighting in World War I and beginning his career as a philologist. The earliest work on the "Silmarillion," published as The Book of Lost Tales, is a collection of characters, events, and ideas that, like mayflies, often survived only briefly beyond their birth before being replaced or stricken altogether. Ómar-Amillo is one such character, appearing only in the Lost Tales before Tolkien took his thoughts in a new direction.
This month's biography discusses the brief appearance of Ómar, who was a music god (along with several others ... part of the reason he possibly didn't stick around for long). As the brother of Salmar, Ómar illustrates the importance of music and the oral tradition in the legendarium, but his character and its eventual disappearance both also show how Tolkien's ideas about Arda aligned (and didn't) with the myths, legends, and histories of the peoples who inspired much of his work.
You can read Ómar's biography here.
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arofili · 2 years
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@tolkienocweek day three | gaps and ghosts | salmar lirillo and ómar amillo
In The Book of Lost Tales, Ómar Amillo was the youngest of the Valar and the last to come into the world, singing as he entered. He knew all languages and songs, had the best of all voices in Arda, and would sing in the gardens of Oromë, where the lord’s daughter Nielíqui danced about the woods. He also sang to the harp-playing of his brother Salmar Lirillo, who was a companion of Ulmo and in after days loved the elves and the Gnomes in particular, fighting wars against Melko alongside them. In the later Legendarium, Ómar is redacted, while Salmar becomes a Maia of Ulmo and the maker of the Ulumúri, his master’s great horns. In my personal canon, I adapt Ómar into a Maia of Nessa, sister of Oromë in whose gardens he danced. The brothers are happy, free-spirited Maiar who frequently visit one another and spend time among the Telerin elves of Tol Eressëa. Amillo and Lirillo, brothers in the Song, are both deeply musical Ainur, creating instruments, songs, and dances for the merriment of their friends among the elves. Like his Vala, Salmar Lirillo has no spouse; but Ómar Amillo his brother courted Nielíqui, Maia of Vána and Oromë, and wed her in the Years of the Lamps.
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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 5 months
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The ugly sides to: Ómar (Amilo) | Salmar | Nielíquie | Silmo | Tevildo | Makar| Meássë | Lúsion | Telimektar | Aluin | Nornorë | Fanuin | Ranuin | Danuin | Ilinsor
Warning: Mentions of gaslighting | neglect | physical and verbal abuse | infidelity | manipulation / love bombing | weaponized incompetence.
Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume
Image from Unsplash
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🚩Ilinsor | Nornorë | Aluin | Fanuin | Ranuin | Danuin: They are married to their duties and are away or too occupied more often than not. Trying to carve out quality time with them is uncommonly hard, as they inevitably prioritize their responsibilities over all else. Or, they would make plans, but then change them as they inevitably accepted some new duty or another. Other times, they would simply forget.
“But the Elder King needed my aid. I could not say nay.”
“I was consumed with my labors. I could not turn away.”
They may try to make amends, of course, but even then, the chances of them placing duty over love are exceedingly high.
🚩 Makar| Meássë | Lúsion | Telimektar: These are the Valar most likely to become verbally and/or physically abusive. Their tempers can be unpredictable, and they can say incredibly hurtful things without trying. Then there is the issue of them resorting to their fists if they feel it’s the only way to get their point across. After, they will put the blame on their companion.
“You did not leave me be. I kept insisting you leave me be.”
“Now see what you made me do.”
Then they would shower their companion with affection, but it is all a ruse. They will revert to their old selves once they are confident their companion is not going to forsake them.
🚩Ómar (Amilo) | Salmar : They are surrounded by admirers and well-wishers. And the attention they receive can be more than a little inappropriate. Other times, they forget themselves and revel in the attention they receive, as it is intoxicating and they crave more and more of it. Then they would offer excuses in the hopes of convincing their companion that there was nothing wrong with what they did.
“Come now, my love, it was just a kiss on the cheek.”
“We were just dining, them and me. Nothing untoward took place.”
They become exceedingly talented at concealing such acts from their companion. If discovered, they could pretend to have changed in order to keep their companion by their side.
🚩 Nielíquie | Silmo : They are too playful and immature, and they struggle to heed the consequences of their actions. Often, they would consider play more important than their responsibilities towards themselves and their companion. If their aid is required for household duties, they will agree to lend a hand and then leave it, thinking it is a small matter. Or, they would deliberately make mistakes in the hopes of avoiding an unwanted chore and making their companion do it for them instead.
“But I do not know how to carry out such a task.”
“If you desire perfection, then perhaps you should take responsibility for the chore.”
If their companion challenges them on this and makes it plain that it is all too much for them to bear, they may change and help for a while. After, they could go back to their old ways.
🚩 Tevildo : Mind games, lies, and manipulation make up the chief of his darker traits. Tevildo is a master of convincing others that it is their fault and never his. He would deny his companion’s feelings and even their sense of reality in order to turn them into the wrongdoer.
“I did not agree to call on you at this time. You are thinking of something else.”
“That is not what I said. Stop making a mountain out of a molehill.”
In the end, he will have his companion questioning and doubting themselves while he carries on regardless.
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Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil
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zillyeh · 16 days
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L'appel du L'eau
Characters: Miles, The Racketeer, The Oddsman (ancestors w/ no pages unfortunately soz) Pre Smiles Miles thing hi<3
Under the bright Alternian moons, the lower Delhon docks swayed. The trolls walking the uneasy planks grew sparser and sparser as sunrise grew closer- returning to their ships or the various other places sailors spent their time during the harsh daylight.
Rare was it that a certain pirate didn’t stay in the company of a particular jadeblood until the madame kicked him out. Rare as the weather being this nice in this season. Rare as that jadeblood choosing to be out on the docks rather than seeing clients.
His short mane of curls blew behind him at the speed he walked, striding as long as his little legs could muster. It would be a run if he didn’t want to look as desperate as he felt. The heels of his buckled boots clicked fast, his catlike eyes darting between ships until he found the one his companion had described. The Scull Kraken stood tall, proud and purple in the moonslight, the squid patterning carved into her hull shining a brilliant gold.
Amillo felt like he could burst into a desperate, desperate sprint. Domnik’s horns also shone under Alternia’s three moons, next to him the seadweller he could only assume was the “brother” he’d heard about.
“Domnik!” Milo shouted down the dock when he was just close enough. The both of them startled, the taller violet’s hand flicking to his side.
“Amillo?” Domnik asked, confused. He swatted his captain’s twitchy fingers away from his firearm.
“I thought I’d never find you before you left,” Milo said, breathless now that he’d stopped. “I was thinking about your offer. Also hello, you must be Rothan. Amillo Ariika.” Milo straightened himself, smoothing his coat before offering his hand.
The taller of the pair of highbloods eyed it with disdain. Milo faltered slightly, but he daintily switched the offer of the handshake to a loose hanging wrist- fingers to kiss if he were so inclined.
He was not.
“Amillo what are you doing here?” Domnik asked gruffly, lowering Milo’s hand with his own.
“I have been turning that offer you proposed to me around my head for nights, Dom,” he said, chin high in the air. The vertical feet between the jade and the other two trolls was almost laughable. The flowery fins of the seadweller shifted as he tilted his head.
“You’ve been proposing things to…” Rothan eyed Milo’s least frilly pair of puffy shirts and tight trousers with disdain, “Suckerfish?”
“Rottie-” The blueblood’s pale face darkened noticeably.
“Is that a problem, captain?” Amillo asked with a polite defiance.
“Milo-” Domnik attempted through gritted teeth. Rothan shut him up with a hand on his chest.
“What does my idiot brother offer you, eh? More money than your domineering lady takes from your affairs?” There was a joking tone to his voice that made Amillo’s ears twitch annoyedly. 
“Something like that.” Milo cast his sharp gaze to Domnik, uncomfortable and bracing for impact. “Perhaps I’m a bit too romantic, Domnik? To think perhaps you had more intent with me than most?”
“Will you get on with it?” Rothan interjected before Domnik could take a breath in. “What do you bother me for, jade?”
“I am coming with you,” Milo said, as if that were an obvious fact. Those five words hung heavy in the air, Rothan seemingly waiting for a punchline. He did not receive one.
That didn’t stop him from laughing.
Cruel and cartoonish, doubling himself over to hold his knees, exaggeratedly wiping a tear from his eye. Domnik chuckled uncomfortably, but Milo remained unmoved. He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping his foot as he waited for him to be finished.
“Oh that is rich- oh.” Rothan paused, something in Amillo’s eyes giving him reason to you. “You think you’re serious.”
“I am serious,” Milo said firmly, tugging on Domnik’s sleeve to pull him to his side. Domnik, for some reason, allowed this. “My matesprit said he desperately wished I could come with him, and as it so happens, I’m free tonight.”
The violet looked between Domnik and the jadeblood, some bioluminescent anger pockmarking his neck around his bud shaped fins.
“Dom- fuck’s sake, idiot get your ass back over here.”
“Maybe we hear him out?” Domnik asked sheepishly, “Rottie-”
“Captain now. I sooner throw you off this dock before I take your dainty little screwtoy out on the water.”
“Don’t talk about him like-”
“Oh so it iiis more than that, da? Of course it is. You get softer every fucking time we dock this port.” He jutted his chin out to Milo. “You think that thing can survive my ship?”
A low hiss escaped Milo, Domnik’s hand instinctively moved to stop him going further.
“Shows what you know about this port, Lilyfin.” Milo shot, looking like a child being held back by Domnik’s trunk of an arm. “You would think that someone who’s name precedes him as far as it does would look into what role the suckerfish on these docks play.” 
Milo kicked in the back one of Domnik’s knees, sending him down with a yelp. His head was just level with Amillo’s chest. The glint of his blade at Domnik’s throat was immediately preceded by the click of Rothan’s gun. Milo hardly blinked, keeping Domnik’s head in place by his horn.
“Could I survive this province were I not half as much a savage beast as you are, captain?”
“Let him go,” Rothan snarled, trigger discipline waning. Miles barked out a laugh, gripping Domnik’s horn tighter.
“Or what? You’ll shoot me? Like I have anything to lose? Like I won’t come back from it?” Milo’s skin rippled as he taunted, the undead alabaster glow sending a shiver down Rothan’s spine.
“I will shoot you in your head,” he said, a hitch to his voice that made Milo’s smile widen.
“I’ll make it his,” he said, jostling Dom around by the horn.
“Milo-”
“Quiet, Dommy.”
Rothan paused, weighing his options, but quickly came to his senses. Something in Milo’s eyes must have scared him.
"You think I'll let you on my ship one step after this?" He straightened himself, lowering his gun. "I say yes, you let him go, I shove you in with the sharks to play chew toy."
"Rottie‐?!"
"Shut up, Domnik," said both Milo and Rothan at once. 
"I would never hurt Domnik if I get what I want, captain," Milo reassured, keeping pressure on the blade at the blueblood's throat. "I can be a model addition to your crew if you let me."
"Right."
"I think we should give him a chance, Rottie," Domnik strained, trying to keep his throat unopened. Rothan swore in his upper province tongue, swinging his gun around as he spoke.
"Still, dipshit? How often does he have you on your knees that you want to bring him with us?"
"If he disarmed me, couldn't he-"
"He disarmed you because you're stupid." Rothan raised his gun again. "Get up, Domnik. Get back over here."
Dom didn't move. Amillo wouldn't let him, or perhaps he was on his side after all. Rothan let out a frustrated growl and stomped. He holstered his gun, but Milo's hand was steady.
"You actually know how to fight?" he asked exasperatedly. "Not just this little trick?"
"It's a miracle none of us got hired for your head, Lilyfin. Yes I can fight. I can shoot, run, and steer if need be." The breeze brushed Milo's hair back for him. The smell of the ocean was nothing new, but tonight it smelled like freedom. He was so close to leaving this place behind. For good. 
"I know you're down a crewmate as well," Milo continued. Rothan swore again, staring daggers through Domnik.
"How much did you fucking tell him you gulper-mouthed moron?!"
"A little- I- You know how it is when you're-"
"No I don't because I don't need to pay for port whores every time we dock!" Captain Lilyfin stomped again to exaggerate his anger. Or maybe he was just that dramatic. “I can keep my mouth shut.”
“Oh I've heard that,” Milo said, tapping on Domnik's horn. “Daylight is approaching, captain. I'm offering myself for nothing more than the ability to get away from Delhon. I want nothing more, I want nothing less.”
“Kitten,” Dom whispered, “Could you, perhaps, let the knife down a little, I'm-”
“Shut up, Dom,” Milo and Rothan said at the same time. Dom did as he was ordered. Rothan paced at the end of the dock, then stopped with a heavy sigh.
“Fine,” he growled, “Persistent little he-wench… I have three conditions.”
“List them.” Milo's undead heart could be mistaken for alive at the pace his pulse was thrumming.
“Release the idiot.” Milo did so, keeping his dagger raised. Domnik scrambled to Rothan’s side. He received a hard slap across the face before the captain continued.
“Your fangs don't touch me. My crew will not be weakened by your diet either.”
“Understood, captain.” Rothan rolled his eyes. Domnik rubbed his cheek. Captain Lilyfin paced closer, enough to make Milo tense.
“I need you to prove you want this, kitten,” he sneered. “Not enough to yes yes yes me- I need a display of loyalty.”
Rothan got close enough to touch, if not for the blade in Milo's hand. He leaned down anyway, baring his sharp teeth.
“I want your finger.”
“Rotti-”
Captain Lilyfin shot his first mate a deadly look over his shoulder. Milo bristled, briefly looking back to the docks, then to the waiting black of the ocean.
“Which. One?” he asked through gritted teeth. Rothan barked out a laugh.
“Forefinger. I'll let you pick the hand.” He pinched Milo's nose, despite the threat of the dagger. “And since you so kindly brought your own blade… do it yourself.”
Domnik made some noise of protest, but Rothan shut him up with another stomp on the pier. Amillo hesitated, eying the dagger in his left hand. It would be such a small price… they can make new ones, right?
“Well, koshka? Or do you not want boarding before the sunrise?”
“Of course, captain,” Milo said with hostile grace, switching his blade to the right. The jadeblood felt the knuckle on his left hand. Bone or joint… Bone would be more difficult, but joint could take more hand with it. 
Good thing his blade was sharp.
He positioned his dagger against his forefinger, holding it in place with his teeth. 
His new captain let out a low hum, holding Domnik back by the jacket. Milo was eerily silent as he turned his head like a predator shaking its prey's neck to death. Barely a grunt of pain when steel sliced through solid. The loudest noise any part of him made was when digit hit dock. His skin rippled white again. Most unsettlingly, so did his finger, until it couldn't and lay there dead on the planks. He bled surprisingly little, but what could one expect from something undead? That wasn’t to say no blood stained the dock, his dagger, or his face, but not nearly as much green as one would think.
“Satisfied?” he snarled, sounding more like a wounded animal than a troll. Rothan still held Domnik back from him. Though, his efforts to get to him paused when he licked his own blood off his blade. All without breaking eye contact with Captain Lilyfin.
“Fucked up little thing, aren't you?” Rothan leaned down to pick up his severed digit as if it were a dull coin on the ground. “Satisfied enough. Get whatever shit you’re bringing, ninefingers.” He wiggled it at him as if to beckon him. “Unless they don’t let suckerfish keep more possessions than the frills that cover your asses.”
Milo let out a low hiss and grabbed Domnik’s arm to tug him back to his side. Without a word he sheathed his dagger, wrenching a handkerchief out of Dom’s pocket to wrap his hand with. 
“Uh, Milo-”
“Show me around the ship, won’t you, first mate Abroka?” he said with a far too wide grin and far too sweet a tone. “I am here on your offer, aren’t I? Plus, it’s almost daybreak.”
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rfsnyder · 1 year
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AMILLO INNOCENTI
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hhimring · 8 months
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Recent Ainur bios on SWG
(Rec list)
@ainurweek
By Dawn Felagund:
Ómar-Amillo
Salmar-Noldorin
Osse
Uinen
By Anerea:
Ulmo, Part I
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Featuring this stunning art by @welcometolotr
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The work that would eventually be published as The Silmarillion has deep roots, having been first written down in the 1910s when Tolkien was still a young man fighting in World War I and beginning his career as a philologist. The earliest work on the "Silmarillion," published as The Book of Lost Tales, is a collection of characters, events, and ideas that, like mayflies, often survived only briefly beyond their birth before being replaced or stricken altogether. Ómar-Amillo is one such character, appearing only in the Lost Tales before Tolkien took his thoughts in a new direction.
This biography discusses the brief appearance of Ómar, who was a music god (along with several others ... part of the reason he possibly didn't stick around for long). As the brother of Salmar, Ómar illustrates the importance of music and the oral tradition in the legendarium, but his character and its eventual disappearance both also show how Tolkien's ideas about Arda aligned (and didn't) with the myths, legends, and histories of the peoples who inspired much of his work.
You can read Ómar's biography here, published by @silmarillionwritersguild.
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miubow · 2 years
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MEET THE WHIMS my fictional species my oc Amillo created as companions for him and his friends
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welcometolotr · 2 years
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Erion (tommy b), Hlónanís (the river-woman), Melian, Gelion, Eönwë, Amillo, and Olórin (Gandalf), as they were in the early Years of the Trees :) This isn’t the whole crop of ~eldest~, but the others (Fangorn, Orodruin, Gorgumoth, etc) tend to take less elfin forms on the daily.
<the first oath>
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ao3feed-angbang · 1 year
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The Tale of Amillo
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/H5fPvWi
by PrinceofCats3791
In the Book of Lost Tales, we learned of an elusive Vala: Amillo, the Vala of Song. This is his story, as told to Eriol outside the Cottage of Lost Play in Tol Erresea.
Words: 2581, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Book of Lost Tales - J. R. R. Tolkien
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: M/M, Other
Characters: Eriol (Tolkien), Ómar (Tolkien), Rúmil of Tirion, Sauron | Mairon, Manwë Súlimo, Goldberry (Tolkien), Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor, Tom Bombadil
Relationships: Ómar (Tolkien)/Salmar, Tom Bombadil/Goldberry, Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon (implied)
Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Manwë Súlimo is not a nice person, Betrayal, Melkor isn't actually so bad in this, I explain where Tom Bombadil came from, Ómar is Melkor and Manwë's brother in this, Why?, because, (They're the most powerful valar so it makes sense)
read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/H5fPvWi
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12thperigeeball · 1 year
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Ball King Nominee No. 11 |  Grand Couturier Nominee No. 10 - Voschi Horjan
Submitted by: Amillo Aarika I want to nominate Voschi Horjan to be the [ X ] Ball King [ ] Ball Queen [ X ] Grand Couturier of the Ball of 12th Perigee Eve 2022 because …. My darling Voschi absolutely jumped at the opportunity to match us for this sweep’s theme… As much I would love to nominate myself alongside him- we do work so much better as a complete set- I’d like to see him get a little spotlight.~ It does treat him so, so nicely.
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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 5 months
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Day 12 | Prompt: Radience of Silpion
Pairing: Ómar Amillo x Fem. Reader (Elf | Third person POV)
Themes: Smut | Soft
Warnings: Public sex | Cockwarming | Fingering | Mild dirty talk | Orgasm denial
Word count: 400+ words
Summary: Ómar and his lady steal a few moments for themselves while the others are away at a feast.
Also available on AO3
Rating: 🔥 | Minor DNI | 🔞  | You are responsible for the media you consume
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Ómar sighed softly. "You must not be so impatient, my love." 
"You are monstrously wicked, Amillo!" Y/n howled in frustration after having been dragged back from the precipice a second time. "And what if someone comes upon us like this?"
Ómar smiled broadly and made himself more comfortable against the tree. The movement was all that was needed to push him even deeper inside of her. Y/n moaned with pleasure and splayed her hands over his chest in an attempt to stop herself from collapsing on top of him.
"No one will," he replied, his eyes full of wicked humor. “For they are all far too occupied with eating and drinking to even care about anything or anyone else."
"Oh? No one will think to question your absence?" Y/n refused to believe it. Ómar was a most gifted singer. His presence was sought for every festival and feast. The knowledge that no one would search for him in the hopes of pressing him to sing again astounded her.
"They will not, my love. Most were deep in their cups when we left.” Ómar heard the laughter and the ribald jests. No one would come their way; he was certain of it. “And they all know how I long to sing while bathing in the radiance of Silpion. I must, however, confess, sweet lady, I find myself yearning for a different kind of song right now."
His hand crept beneath her skirts. It moved smoothly up her thigh, going higher and higher, and then-
"There you are." Deft fingers glided over soft folds and their apex again and again, unleashing a flood of fiery sensations that nearly consumed not only his lady, but him as well. "Oh yes, my love. Sing for me. Sing."
Y/n buried her face in the thick, velvety hood of his mantel, fearful her cries would be heard. It was not what Ómar desired. He teased and urged and tempted her into letting go of her fears and crying out for him. And he found himself being rewarded richly for his efforts. Y/n twined her arms around his shoulders, her body like a bow string pulled taut. She was close. He felt it when fresh arousal poured down his cock. With a smug grin, he ceased and drew away. Y/n growled, then grew sullen after being denied once again. 
"Oh, if you could only see how you look!" Ómar laughed. The sweet, lilting sound of it merged gloriously with the singing of birds in nearby trees. "Oh, please do forgive me for this, my love, and let me make amends."
"How?"
"Like this." He pressed y/n closer and knelt upon the grass. Y/n gasped when he thrust for the first time. "And I give you my word; there will be no more denying."
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 Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil
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zillyeh · 1 year
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Amillo many sweeps ago?
Docs version
"Milooo," called one of the bronzeblood castle servants, her voice bouncing through the marble halls, "You're needed in the bedchambers of her highness again."
Her companion elbowed her as they nudged into Amillo's shared studio. The handsome troll he'd been capturing in paint moved before he did. He sighed and put down his brush, turning to look at the intruding pair.
"She summons you to the throne room, sir Aarika." The olive corrects, nudging his companion. Miles stands waving for his model to take a break. It was a shame about losing the light, but she was more important than anything.
"She requires more than one of you to tell me that?" He asked, amusedly quirking an eyebrow. "Escort me then."
"Clearly one of us only tells saucy lies, sir Aarika," said the olive. The bronze made a face at him. 
"Ah, of course. Though desiring me for court is nearly as saucy as desiring my courtship, no?"
The bronze giggled, swishing the edge of her dress.
"Ooh is that what you talk about during? Gets her fins flapping, does it?"
Milo pinched her cheek, a terrible smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
"Decorum, sweetheart," he tutted, flipping his hair over his shoulder. "That's between me, her, and the tactical plans in her bedside table…"
All of their steps in unison echoed down the hall. Milo smoothed the robes that barely covered enough of him to be considered decent. This early in the evening was rare for any sort of summons, but who was he to refuse? One of the big cats he’d been permitted to keep lurked near the throne room entrance, along with about a dozen hivecats that all perked up to greet him.
The large room the two lead the Adherent to soaked in the brilliant colors of the moons- once white marble half pink and half green due to their positions. In that middle overlap it looked almost gray. The Nameless Province's regional heiress sat stunning and impatient in the pink before that line.
"My love," he cooed, bowing deep enough that the servants regretted their position behind them.
"Adherent," Heiress Irtena said cooly. Milo changed his posture immediately. 
"Your highness," he said more seriously. She laughed, standing with her trident to approach him. Tall and imposing, as was right for a tyrian of her station, but a sight of beauty nonetheless. Gold jewelry attached to her crown twinkled under her eyes, just as polished as every golden bead in her elaborate braids. The deceptively soft looking curves of her body under her half sheer robes had more power beneath than any purpleblood, any other tyrian even.
To say he was smitten with her would be to say that the sun was a bit warm.
"I do so love how quickly you play the roles I need you to, kitty," she said, tilting his chin up with a finger. He grinned, her praise welcome music to his ears. 
"Which shall I play this evening, my darling heiress?" He asked. Irtena's eyes flicked behind him, dismissing his escorts with just one look. As they scurried out of the room, Irtena pulled him close.
"I fear for my life," she said as if cooing something sweet to him.
"Does the horizon look uncomfortably pink, highness?" he flirted back lowly, brushing his fingers over the tattoo that matched the scars on the other side of her face.
"Purple," she replied, attempting not to grimace. 
"Ah, worse then…" Milo entwined his fingers with hers, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Is your war strategist not more suited for this conversation, beloved?"
A dark look passed over her face, one Milo knew all too well.
"When?" he asked, stiff now in her arms.
"They found her on the beach hours ago,” her flirtatious masking was slipping, “Just long enough for the sun to sting, but not enough to burn over the marks in her neck.” 
Amillo swallowed, surely she didn’t think-
She pulled him closer, trident scraping the floor as she nearly lifted him off his feet.
“I trust you, Amillo. The fact that is not common knowledge will work well enough as cover. I need you to evacuate who you can. Make it look like traitorous disarray, make those spies watching think I don’t know what’s been done. Now.”
Again. It was happening again. The fourth time now? This province would never let him rest, never let a decade or a century turn without his life entirely flipping upside down. Would it ever stop? Would the whims of the tyrian tyrants who felt they could collar the Nameless Province ever stop resetting whatever normalcy he found?
“Now?” he asked, pained as she released him. “What about-”
“I stand here, Milo,” she says, “Halosa’s serpent was seen off the coast not long ago. If she wants her castle back, she’ll give me her other leg for it.”
“Delhon will-”
“Will have to put up one hell of a fight,” she shoved him in view of one of the throne room’s wide open windows, the view of the ocean and a sparkle of too familiar white scales made his stomach sink.
“You’ve been better than I could have asked for, my Adherent,” Irtena said softly with a small smile, “Know that.” She swung her trident high, pointing the recently sharpened fork at his neck.
“Give me a reason I shouldn’t execute you on the spot, you snake!” She shouted, loud enough to ring through the hall. 
“Your highness, you know I would never betray you,” he pleaded, just as loud, real wetness forming at the corners of his eyes, “You think me another serpent waiting to strike? Tonight of all nights?”
She swung, he ducked. She spun, and he ran back out those double doors, gathering the minds of every cat he could reach. The two servants listening outside stared at him wide eyed. 
“Snake!” the bronze shouted urgently, following some of the cats to other parts of the castle. The olive followed suit as Milo ran alongside his tiger, feeling something die within him as he herded more castle staff out.
The Nameless Province was about to overturn once again, and with it would drown the Adherent. As the Liontamer and the Aesthete had before him.
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