#Manwë x Námo

[cilil]

𝓐𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓼 - 𝟐𝟎 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

⊱ Fate

Characters: Námo/Manwë Synopsis: Sometimes Námo wishes his fate was different. Warnings: /

Námo has always admired Manwë, for he is kind, just and so very fair. His ëala is bright and magnificent, filled with the song of wind and air, and he moves and speaks with the grace of a true king. 

There is no such beauty to be found within his own being, dark, gloomy and silent as he was made to be, Námo knows, and that Manwë was never meant to be his.

Even still, he allows himself to hope. 

Until one day when Manwë approaches him and tells him, "I asked Varda to marry me." 

And Námo's heart breaks. 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Athelas Drabble Challenge - Tears

Pairing: Manwë x Námo | Calamórë

Themes: Angst-ish | Soft

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 200 words

Summary:  Námo weeps after listening to  Lúthien sing

Rules and tag form here.

Námo wept.

A turn of the moon came and went, and yet he wept. It was her singing that did it. Lúthien wove together a melody of such beauty and joy and sorrow, that it moved him deeply and made him weep. Námo wept over the marring of Arda, over the doom that loomed over many. He shed bitter tears over those that once were and never will be again.

The king comforted him, soothing him with gentle words and tender caresses. Tears burned in his own eyes. He was the king, yet he could not ease Námo's pain. He held him still, not caring for the passing of time and not caring for the tears that soaked his robes. He cradled his little raven until the sobs finally weakened and slowed, never chiding or shaming. He never left his seat, never thought of anything else.

The sobbing ceased and the tears ran dry. Námo had gone limp in his arms. Manwë slid an arm under his waist, lifting him up and carrying him through silent corridors, not stopping until he reached their shared chambers and laid Námo on the featherbed.

His little raven had grieved. Now he needed rest.

Tags: @cilil​ @fictionfordays​ @asianbutnotjapanese​ @edensrose​ 

[furious-haste-of-malice]

❝ I want you, Námo. I have wanted you for a while. ❞

⊱ Prompt: Blackmail, obsession ⊱ Pairing: Manwë x Námo ⊱ Synopsis: After Námo disobeys an order from his king, Manwë forces him to make it up to him. ⊱ Warnings: Creepy Manwë, power dynamics, sexual content, non-con, the prompt in itself

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: Another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar's Dead Dove December and yes, I will be working on these for quite a while longer. Nevertheless: Enjoy!

"Please forgive me, my king." 

Námo was kneeling in the chambers of his lord, head bowed in dutiful penitence. He was as aware as the Vala in front of him that his refusal to speak when he was bidden was a grievous offence to the Elder King's authority, even though he believed it had been necessary to adhere to the divine ordinance he had been given at the beginning of his existence – to never reveal more than what was needed. 

Nevertheless, his being was bound to lawfulness, and he would accept punishment if his lord and his father deemed it necessary. 

Manwë looked as holy and glorious as ever, even seated on his bed instead of his throne. His usual smile had faded, replaced by a sorrowful mien, and the deep sigh that fell from his lips sent a small breeze through the air surrounding them. 

"Worry not, dear Námo. I shall surely forgive you, but I am afraid you will need to make it up to me." 

Despite the perfectly serene and innocent tone, Námo felt a sense of unease, sending shivers down his spine. 

"Anything that is within my power, my king," he said carefully. 

"Very well. Rise." Manwë held out his hand, though it was a gesture of silent command instead of an invitation to take it. 

Námo did as he had been told. Perhaps his obedience could help him atone for his sin, he thought, but then he was caught off-guard when Manwë rose as well and delivered three swift, decisive strikes, the gleam of silvery talons being his only warning – the first one tore off his veil, the second discarded his hood and the third undid the sash holding his robes in place. 

A small gasp escaped Námo as his form was revealed to the eyes of his lord, and he saw delight blossoming within the depths of his blue eyes. 

"Get on the bed." 

"M-my king –"

"Now." 

There was something rough and firm within Manwë's voice, something that was usually absent, that many thought him incapable of. Námo's fána trembled when he obeyed once more, leaving him exposed and prone in front of a Vala he had always trusted – until now that he saw his eyes glint like those of a raptor spotting prey in the grass. 

"What do you want from me?" he managed to ask, attempting to suppress his fear when Manwë climbed on top of him with such natural ease – 

As if we were lovers...

"Is it not obvious?" Manwë smiled at him, as kind and sweet as he had always done, but the dangerous gleam in his eyes hadn't vanished. "I want you, Námo. I have wanted you for a while."

Too stunned to speak, Námo could only stare at him as he lovingly cupped his cheeks. 

"You are so beautiful," Manwë sighed. "And now you will finally be mine." 

Námo stopped breathing when he was drawn into a kiss so tender it almost made him forget that it was forced, and his own lips remained stiff and unmoving. He still couldn't believe that he was being subjected to a punishment of carnal nature, at the hands of his pure, benevolent king no less. 

Manwë withdrew after a few fruitless attempts, seeming upset. "You don't wish to kiss me?" 

"Please, my king... n-not this..." Námo attempted to plead, but was ignored. 

"If you continue to be disobedient I can no longer be patient with you. Your punishment is whatever I deem fit, and if I want to make you mine and show you where you belong, then this is what shall be done." 

Talons dug into his sides as Manwë forced him to turn around and slipped his robes off his shoulders, tearing any remaining clothes to shreds. Námo was left lying on his stomach, held down by a Vala greater than himself. A still-clothed groin was pressed against his exposed backside, and he felt flesh hardening against him. 

"Since you have cheated me out of a prophecy, I hope you at least haven't cheated me out of being your first," Manwë whispered in his ear. 

Námo remained silent. He didn't wish to recount the ways in which his wife had made love to him and how they pleasured each other, and his mind struggled to comprehend the depths of the twisted lust his lord had suddenly revealed. How long had he desired him? Why did he believe he had a right to claim him? 

Yet there was no time to ask himself such questions when two hands spread his legs first and then his cheeks, and he heard the sound of a bottle being uncorked, followed by the scent of vanilla and the sensation of liquid being poured onto his skin. 

He prayed that those talons wouldn't be forced inside him, even if that meant he would be taken without further preparation; it was going to hurt, but repairing his flesh would be easier this way. 

It was only then that Námo briefly considered fighting back, yet any spark of resistance was swiftly drowned out by the knowledge that his king was mightier than he, greater in power and stature. Something inside him had given up before the thought had even crossed his mind; perhaps he already knew that it was going to happen regardless. 

Námo buried his head in the nearest pillow when he heard the rustling of fabric and attempted to muffle his cries of pain as Manwë forced himself inside. He had to will his fána to relax and open up, even as it felt like he was betraying himself and his objective of enduring this violation with as much dignity as he could. 

"You feel so good." 

"You are so beautiful." 

"You sound lovely when you cry and moan for me." 

Manwë whispered sweet nothings in his ear while taking him, but Námo refused to break his self-imposed silence. This was neither love nor pleasure, it was punishment just as his lord had said, and he would not think of it otherwise for the sake of his own sanity. He received no touch and no true affection, only the empty words of one whose mind had been tainted by greed and obsession. 

"Say my name." 

Manwë's command seemed to permeate the very air Námo was breathing, but he refused; he did not desire this, and he would not pretend to. 

Taloned fingers closed around his neck. "I commanded you to say my name."

He remained silent. Manwë's grip tightened, making it nigh impossible to breathe, and despite knowing that he couldn't be slain, panic flooded his fána – as well as the realisation that his torment might only continue if he kept refusing. 

Hesitant and in a broken voice, Námo at last obeyed his lord's command. 

"M-man... wë..." 

The whisper of his name and the choked noises he made sent a shudder of pleasure through Manwë's entire fána, and he spilled his seed inside his unwilling lover, withdrawing only after every last drop had left him. 

Námo felt the need to curl up on his side, make himself small and disappear, but before he could move he was turned around to lie on his back once again. 

Manwë looked down at him with a perfectly angelic smile, as if nothing had happened, and planted a chaste kiss on his forehead. 

"You are forgiven." 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[feralteapot]

Since I’m not sleeping any time soon, might as well give into the simp thoughts again.

Manwe First Time (reader virginity loss) fic was great.

My brain requires one for Namo . I need to know how it’d go with him.

(Though technically we’ll find that out with Sweet Escape)

Namo taking reader’s virginity fic when.

( @edensrose you’re responsible for this train of thought)

[manweweek]

Another poll!

[nyarnamaitar]

Ulmo Comforts His King

(AKA a small Ulmo x Manwë drabble I wrote in 5 minutes and decided to throw into the Void)

— — — — — —

He is still not looking at you. He raised his eyes briefly, yes, to meet yours, but he quickly lowered them again. His face is very pale and he seems smaller somehow, curled into himself. He has always been quiet by nature, contemplative, the trappings of his position forcing him to speak more and louder than he would do if he were not crowned king. But this is no comfortable quiet of his; his features too neutral, the curve of his spine too tense.

“Highest?” you ask, trying to get his full attention, trying to connect as you have always done whenever you are together. “Manwë?” you add, pushing, when he remains silent. You are growing desperate, you realise. It has been a while since you have last had a real, private moment with your dearest friend. You miss him. At first, when Melkor — Morgoth, the Eldar call your foe now, deservedly— betrayed you and yours, destroyed the Trees, and fled to his stronghold in the North, Silmarils in hand, you came speeding to your king, and during and in-between the long hours of council, you fought the urge to pull him to the side and let the words I told you so, did I not? He was never worthy of your mercy, let alone your love roll from your lips, but you fear that he heard them anyway. Ever you have failed to keep your heart hidden from him.

And now it has come to this: the radiance of your lord dimmed, his heart and soul surrounded by tall walls, his eyes averted from yours.

And though his demeanor does not come as a surprise — your kinsmen warned you — it still pains you to the very core of your being. He barely speaks to me, Námo said, and when he does, he only ever asks for advice of a political nature. He stares at Vairë’s tapestries in silence. He no longer visits Irmo’s gardens.

We used to enjoy sitting together, Yavanna and Vána told you, enjoying the sight of flowers in bloom and the touch of the wind in the meadow. Now he rarely strays from his mountain home. Even the birds feel his absence; their songs are muted.

My love is grieving, Varda confided, he needs time — or so he told me. But I know his heart and I worry. Sea King — Ulmo — friend — will you not talk to him?

So now you are here, in front of him, yet no words are sufficient to encompass the enormity of what you feel, what you wish to tell him. I know you are ashamed; do not be. I know you believe I judge you; I do not — I never did — I only ever sought to protect you. I know you find yourself unworthy of your station; do not condemn yourself so. You are by far the worthiest among us. Please believe me. Please allow me to stand by you, as I have always done. Do not push me away, where I cannot find you.

His soft-spoken words, almost whispers, take you out of your reverie. “Sea King — Ulmo — what brings you here?” he asks, as if he cannot quite grasp why anyone would willingly seek out his company. It is this uncertainty, this self-hatred you hear in his voice that makes something balk within you, scream in outrage. You have to make this right. Now. You go to him, almost running, and before he can flee into hiding, you take his hands and kiss his wrists — his pulse is like the thunder that precedes a storm —, his open palms. You pull him closer to you and you look up. The walls are down, finally leveled, and you see tears clouding his blue eyes. He bows his head in sorrow. You embrace him, and he goes willingly, curls himself against your chest. Something slumbering within you unwinds and comes to life. From this day forth, you swear to yourself, you will not waver from his side.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Gentle June

Dear me, it's another month and another Masterlist!

Prompts and requests are open! <3

The prompt list is under the cut (please check which ones are taken before making a request <3)

Update: I've decided to integrate @fellowshipofthefics' Pride Bingo into these prompts.

So feel free to request one of these too :D

Body Worship - Irmo x Estë - Non-binary

Nipple Play - Nerdanel x Anairë - F/F

Gentle Dom - Celebrimbor x Maeglin - Bondage

Phone-sex - Maglor x Daeron

Honeymoon - Finarfin x Eärwen

Aftercare - Melkor x Mairon

Massage - FireBird 1 for @cilil

Praise Kink - FireBird 2 for @cilil

Striptease - Gothmog x Melkor for MoonLord - Polyamory

Mutual Masturbation - Fëanor x Nerdanel - T4T

Handjob - Thorin x Bilbo

Dirty Talk - Fëanor x Fingolfin

Outdoor Sex - Haleth x Caranthir

Squirting - Thorin x OC

Temperature Play - Annatar x Celebrimbor - History

Lingerie - Nerdanel/Anairë/Eärwen Coming out

Quiet Sex -Caranthir x Finrod - Secret Relationship

Undressing - Thranduil x OC

Food Sex - Faramir x Éowyn

Service Top/Bottom - Maeglin x Tuor (x Idril) Euphoria

Oral Sex - Ulmo x Manwë for @cilil (of course)

Bathing - Finwë x Thingol

Morning Sex - Russingon - M/M

Seduction - Elrond x Celebrían - Mutual Pining

Finger Sucking - Celegorm x trans!Curufin x Finrod - Trans Character

Reward - Aredhel x Celegorm - Aro

Pegging - Námo x Vairë for @cilil

Frottage - Éomer x OC

Creampie - Glorfindel x Erestor - Fake Dating

Free Space - Virginity - Turgon x Finrod- First Kiss

[cilil]

Time to rec some fics again! Sadly I didn't get to read much this week, but I'd like to recommend a few favorites from @i-did-not-mean-to's November series:

Funeral. A lovely introspective and emotional oneshot featuring Námo, Haleth and Caranthir... as well as a little surprise concerning Erestor.

Secret Meeting. Eönwë x Gothmog my beloved! This oneshot manages to be sexy, funny and a little bit sad at the same time and comes with a fun twist at the end too. Highly recommend!

Starry Night. The Elder King and his Queen try something new, coached by none other than the Master of Desire himself. A spicy look into the relationship of Manwë and Varda with a side of Irmo - love it!

Wandering Spirits. A truly interesting and unique take on the prompt, as well as a wonderfully emotional and heartbreaking oneshot featuring Nerdanel and Anairë dealing with the loss of their families.

Animal Companion. Let's end on a fun and cute one, shall we? In this one we get dog dad Námo with Gorgumoth and some family fluff. I love them all so much! Good boy Gorgumoth!

My dear IDNMT, you're a delight. Thank you for everything you do💜

Happy Friday, Fellowship! 💛

Fic recs are the best way to help promote someone else’s works! Find some of your favorite fics, they could be WIPs, completed, old, new, whatever you want to share, and rec at least (1) of them for us and your followers to see! Who knows, it might just be the fic someone out there is looking for!

Bonus: tag the author (if possible) and share with us why you are recommending this fic!

[ao3feed-tolkien]

《Days and Nights in Valinor》

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/af9gOXH

by qsand

This is a Chinese-to-English translation of a fanfiction based on "The Silmarillion." The Chinese original is finished on my homepage and domestic platforms (Lofter and Weibo). I will gradually machine-translate the Chinese original into English and publish it on AO3. The progress in English will be slower than the Chinese original. Character Pairings: Fingolfin x Fëanor; Annatar x Celebrimbor; Maedhros x Fingon；Oromë x Celegorm（Character pairings are sorted by percentage in the text）Note: In a character pairing, the order of the names has significance - the first character is top and the second character is bottom. In 《The Ash of Fire》，the main pairing is Fingolfin x Fëanor;In 《The Glimmer》，the main pairings are Maeglin x Turgon and Sauron x Celebrimbor;《The Gate of Dawn》includes all the aforementioned character pairings, with a greater emphasis on Fingolfin x Fëanor and Maeglin x Turgon. This article contains a lot of private settings, including the setting of male elves giving birth to children. If you don't like my portrayal of a character or episode in the text, please quit rather than leave some rude comments. Please make sure you can accept these.

Words: 1571, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M, Multi

Characters: Fëanor | Curufinwë, Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Fingon | Findekáno, Maedhros | Maitimo, Annatar (Tolkien), Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celegorm | Turcafinwë, Oromë (Tolkien), Sons of Fëanor, Manwë Súlimo, Námo | Mandos, Finarfin | Arafinwë

Relationships: Fëanor | Curufinwë/Fingolfin | Ñolofinwë, Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo, Annatar/Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Oromë

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/af9gOXH

[cilil]

𝓐𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓼 - 𝟐𝟎 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞

⊱ Doom

Characters: Námo/Manwë Synopsis: Námo wishes he could be more than just another servant to his king. Warnings: Angst Follow-up to ⊱ Fate

So it is doomed.

Every time Námo is ordered by his king to pronounce his judgement, every time he utters these words, it feels like he himself is damned, alongside those unfortunate souls who have chosen an ill-fated path; yet unlike the Children of Ilúvatar, he was never really given a choice to be someone different than he is.  

He stands in the Ring of Doom, tall, proud and elegant, his fána concealed by long robes and veils, his hands folded neatly underneath wide sleeves, his expression betraying no emotion. Manwë gazes upon him from his throne, contemplates his words and finally accepts with a gracious nod. 

"So be it." 

And in an instant, Námo is deprived of the warmth of blue fire within his eyes again, a silent dismissal. He bows his head and sits down, feeling oddly small. Of course the Elder King's gaze wouldn't linger on him; he is but a servant of His Majesty, and his appearance certainly doesn't draw attention due to his modest attire. He must always maintain the dignity and appearance befitting of the tasks he was made for, and Eru does not permit him to stray from his path. 

Námo knows he will have to admire his beloved king from a distance and show his adoration and devotion through his service; for that is all that will ever be, so is his doom.

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging!♡

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @bluezenzennie @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

read more? athelas drabble challenge masterlist | main masterlist get tagged for my writing? tag list form

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day eight : flight

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   manwë ⠀〳 námo⠀  ❜࿔ 

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

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

‘Flying all by your lonesome, little raven?’

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

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

'Have you been stalking me, Your Majesty?'

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

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

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

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

'Is someone calling me pretty?'

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

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

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

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

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

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

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

You know I just have to give you a Calamórë request and those smut prompts made me go brrrrr so hear me out

“i’m going to fuck your so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

I'm thinking another modern au but honestly it could work in normal verse too. Just imagine a bit of a possessive Manwë thinking that someone is getting a bit too friendly with his little crow ( you can decide who that person is! )

Hmm I'm a whore so spice level 🔥🔥🔥

Can't wait! Take your time with it, love your writing always<3

I hope you don’t mind, but I kept to the normal timeline. I also changed the prompt a wee bit, just to suit the story. I hope you like this.

“Mine”

Pairing: Calamórë 

Themes: Smut

Warnings: Possessive Manwë | Kissing | Nicknames | Some explicit language | Spanking | Rough Sex | Oral | Cream pie

Word count : 1.9K words

Summary: At a feast, Manwë finds Tilion getting too close for comfort where Námo is concerned.

Rating: 🔥🔥🔥| Minors DNI | 18+

Rules and tag form can be found here.    

The feast was nearly over. Many of the guests had already departed for their rooms. Only a few remained in Oromë's great hall. Some made the most of the food, talking and laughing while they ate, while others danced, hoping to enjoy the music a little longer before leaving.

The hall was still hazy with smoke from the fireplace. The air was still heavy with the scents of wine, fruit, cheese, and baked bread. The empty tables had been cleared, but those with occupants were served as much food and drink as they had a hunger and thirst for. A great tree stood in the middle, its lower branches spreading under the roof. Pelts and skulls of fell beasts that had fallen to the Lord of Forests decorated the walls. Manwë barely noticed them. His gaze kept cutting to Námo and the Maiar speaking with him.

Oromë called him Tilion. As skilled as his mentor, Tilion had joined the hunt for Ungoliant and Melkor and would have killed the spider himself had she not shielded herself and her dark master with an impenetrable cloud of darkness. The fact that he came so close was impressive. And he seemed to have captivated Námo completely.

Manwë didn't like it. Not one bit. Tilion said something to make Námo laugh. Then he touched Námo's arm, squeezing it ever so gently. He leaned in and got closer than he should have. Manwë had seen enough. He rose and left his seat on the dais. He needed to get the measure of this Maia trying to be all too familiar with his little raven.

"Little raven," he said when he reached Námo's side. "Care to introduce me to your new friend?"

"Your grace," Námo said, doing a double take when Manwë's jaw tensed and he stood to his full height. There was anger flashing in his king's starry eyes, and jealousy too. Even his wings were tensed. It gave him pause. "This is Tilion of the noble house of Oromë. He was talking to me about his most recent quest."

Manwë pretended to be interested. "And that quest was?"

His hand still on Námo's arm, Tilion said, "I was telling Lord Námo about the time many of us searched through an abandoned fortress that was once under the control of the Dark Lord. Lord Námo was eager to hear more."

Yes. Eager and always ready to give a listening ear and mine! Manwë fought for composure. As the king, it would have been unbecoming if he lashed out because of a fit of possessiveness. He had to find another way to tell the Maia he was stepping over a line.

"He is, to be sure," Manwë said, his glare going cold as ice and his eyes frightening. Tilion gulped and took a step back. "I find it all rather endearing, really. But I believe we cannot stay any longer. Come, little raven. It's time we said our farewells."

The term of endearment and the murderous stare were all the hints Tilion needed. He took his arm away and bowed as deeply as he could. "Of course, your grace. Farewell."

Manwë wasted no time escorting Námo out of the great hall and shepherding him to the cottage Oromë had prepared for their personal use during their stay. He was courteous to those who stopped to talk for a moment or two, but he always made his excuses. Námo went along, wondering what was going on. He would have stopped to talk to the elves that served Oromë, but Manwë was having none of it. The king wanted to go straight to their cottage, and he had no choice but to comply. He couldn't even stop to admire the garden and its sweet-smelling roses. Námo could not stop until he was safely inside, and the door slammed shut behind him.

"He touched you," Manwë growled under his breath, pulling Námo to him. The king's arms went around him like vises. "He fucking touched you."

So this was the cause of everything. Námo looked up, only to find Manwë's eyes fixed on his. "It meant nothing to me, your grace, and..."

"That may be so." Manwë cut him off and walked him back to their bedroom. "But it still doesn't change the fact that he touched you. All I can see is that pathetic Maia laying a hand on you and touching you. No one touches you but me. No one. Is that fucking clear?"

Námo nodded, heady anticipation coursing through him. He knew what the king was like when he was in such a mood. And it always ended with him bruised and sore in all sorts of wonderful ways. Námo tilted his chin, hoping to goad the king a little more.

"He did touch me," he agreed. "His hand was soft. I never knew a hunter's hand could be so soft. Usually, they're...-

Manwë crushed Námo's lips with his, drowning out the last of his words. It was a kiss that had more teeth and tongue and left Námo gasping for breath. His knees nearly buckled by the force of that kiss when Manwë growled and tightened his grip. Námo whimpered, his arms circling Manwë's shoulders. When the king pulled away, his gleaming eyes had gone hazy with lust.

"Get rid of those robes," he hissed, his voice thick and hoarse, "and get in bed. I'm going to fuck you so hard you're going to forget that Maia's name."

Námo didn't have to be told twice. His robes were disposed of in moments. His fana trembled when cool air danced over his skin. Námo got in bed, acutely aware that Manwë had been watching his every move. By the time Námo made himself comfortable amongst the silken sheets, Manwë had already begun disrobing himself. Námo's eyes wandered the length of the king's fana. Manwë's skin was flawless and seemed to defy all flaws. His wings were relaxed now, rustling softly every time he moved. When he finished, he went over to a trunk and threw open the lid, fishing around for what he was looking for. The crystal bottle glittered in the starlight streaming through the windows. Manwë brought it over and left it by the bedside counter. He pushed Námo onto his back and moved over him.

His kisses were just as rough as before. All Námo could do was whimper helplessly, his nails leaving little gouges on Manwë's back. The king was all over him, his kisses hungry, his teeth leaving dark bruises to form in their absence. Pain and pleasure mingled and licked their way up Námo's spine. His first moan spilled free.

"Do you think that Maia could make you moan like that?" Manwë's eyes were glinting in triumph. He ran his tongue over a stiffened nipple, causing Námo to moan even louder and arch his back. "Rouse you the way I do?"

"N-no your g-grace." Námo let go of Manwë and grabbed the sheets, making them bunch up around him every time his nails dug into the fabric. "He cannot."

Manwë kissed down and tugged, not too gently. His tongue took over where his lips and teeth left off, leaving a wet trail all over his companion. His hands gripped Námo's thighs every time he arched his back. And he didn't stop there. Every time Námo moaned, every time he whimpered the king's name, Manwë grew bolder, leaving very little of Námo's fana untouched. 

"Now everyone knows who you belong to." Satisfied, Manwë rose and went over to the counter. He picked up the crystal bottle and pulled out the stopper, emptying some of its contents into his hand. The ointment spread easily around his cock. He came back to bed and flipped Námo onto his stomach. Námo raised his hips, making Manwë growl in approval. 

"Already eager, little raven." Manwë grabbed Námo's waist and pulled him closer, entering him slowly and carefully. The sounds Námo made when he filled him made it sound like he was dying. 

"Y-yes, your g-grace." Námo trembled when a large hand glided over his thigh. He jumped when it struck him, and he moaned again. Manwë didn't go further, but Námo wanted more. Once was not enough. "M-more your grace. Please. Give me more."

It was music to Manwë's ears. He struck Námo's thigh once, then a second time, and a third. Each time he struck, Námo would moan long and deep. The sounds he made were like a drug. Manwë couldn't get enough of it. "Do you think that Maia could make you beg and plead like this? Like a needy little slut?"

Námo had nearly forgotten about Tilion, just like Manwë had said. "No. He cannot."

Manwë rewarded him with another spank before grabbing onto his hips. He started to move slowly and gently at first. He had to rest his legs over Námo's own. His little raven tended to squirm, and Manwë didn't want that. When Námo propped himself on his hands, Manwë let go of his hip and wrapped his hand around thick silver-grey hair, yanking on it and pulling Námo's head back with every thrust. His wings rustled every time his fana trembled. His breath grew ragged and labored. Manwë was close—so very close. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, and Námo's moans matching his own filled his ears. His fana tensed, and his muscles coiled. A wave of unimaginable bliss spread through him as he neared his orgasm. Námo moved in time with his thrusts, his own fana tensing. Manwë grabbed onto his hip, hard as ever, and cried out when his orgasm ripped through him. He waited long enough for his seed to spill and his fana to stop shaking before pulling out and flipping Námo onto his back.

Námo had been waiting for this. Manwë dipped his head and wrapped his lips around the tip of Námo's cock, running his tongue over the length of his shaft. Námo trembled violently when Manwë took his cock into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down, his hand moving in rhythm with his tongue and lips. It felt so good. The warmth of Manwë's mouth, the softness of his lips, and the wetness of his tongue were all a heady mix. No one could ever make him feel like the king did, all needy and wanton. He grabbed at the sheets, his fingers practically ripping into the fabric. He felt it—a coiling in his belly. He closed his eyes, the king's name falling off his lips like a soft chant. Manwë draped a hand over his belly to stop him from squirming. Námo arched his back one last time, and the world seemed to stop spinning. He couldn't breathe or even think. All he could feel was a pleasure of the acutest kind shooting all over his body. It pulled him in and threatened to drown him. Námo willingly surrendered and allowed himself to be pulled under.

Soft kisses started to move over his legs and his belly. Námo took a deep breath and blinked, welcoming Manwë into his arms. He ran his hands over the king's wings, marveling at how soft the feathers were. Manwë sighed in bliss. Only Námo could make him feel like this, treating him with reverence. He hoped to always prove himself worthy of such devotion. 

"Will you talk to that Maia again, little raven?" Manwë rested his head against the crook of Námo's neck. 

"Which Maia, your grace?" Tilion was utterly forgotten by this time. Manwë chuckled, his chest rumbling against Námo's. His little raven returned the feeling, and they both laughed in the end.

Tags: @fictionfordays @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[furious-haste-of-malice]

Hi! I loved your Manwe x Namo story you wrote a while ago and was wondering if I could request another thing with them with Namo on the receiving end of the whump? Feel free to delete this if it's not something you want to do. Thanks!

All tied up in July

AN: Sure thing! I apologize for the delay, real life and other stuff kept me busy, but here you go - and I hope you don't me using this prompt for one of my series :) @tolkienpinupcalendar here's another (very late lol) submission!

⛓ Prompt: Immobilization | Manwë x Námo ⛓ Synopsis: Manwë has noticed that Námo has been avoiding him since their last encounter and decides to seek him out again ⛓ Warnings: Inappropriate use of lightning, non-consensual immobilization, forced masturbation ⛓ Short oneshot (~800 words)

"You have been avoiding me, Námo."

Námo turned swiftly to face his king, his veil  fluttering from the sudden movement, nearly exposing the lower half of his face. 

There was a sort of sternness in Manwë's voice that had him worried, one that usually wasn't present in his melodious, lilting tone. 

Yes. The truth was that Námo had been avoiding him ever since that night, ever since he had been punished — taken against his will. His fána had hurt for days after, though he had taken great care to conceal his injuries and wash away any traces of illicit coupling. 

It wasn't as if he could make use of it as evidence of a crime anyway. The Blessed One, Ilúvatar's favourite and dearest to him, was above being accused of such things. 

"Forgive me, my king. I sought to rectify my mistake by performing my duties to the best of my ability," Námo explained himself, bowing his head. 

Manwë frowned at him, his serene demeanour fading, and he knew then that he was going to be hurt again. The only question remaining was how badly. 

"You disappoint me, Námo. It is unbecoming of you to make flimsy excuses." Manwë took a few steps forward, and Námo forced his fána to stand still.

They were close now, too close, and he was able to be touched. And sure enough, a pair of taloned hands reached for him, yet before they made contact, small bolts of lightning danced between them, sizzling through the air. 

Námo wanted to gasp in pain, but found that he couldn't. His muscles refused to obey him. He was immobilised, helpless in his own fána, to be toyed with as his king pleased. 

Manwë watched him for a few moments, admiring his work and the faint twitching of muscles as his spell held the Fëantur in place, then pulled his veil aside and leaned in to kiss him. 

"We shall work on your lack of reciprocity another time," he whispered. "For now, you may simply receive." 

To Námo it felt almost merciful that he wasn't expected to kiss back. He wanted to withdraw, to move away, but each time he even thought of it another burst of lightning coursed through him, keeping him in this strange state of captivity. 

Shall I be defiled again? Or has he devised another method of punishment? he silently asked himself when Manwë decided he had his fill and moved behind him instead. 

"It was truly unfortunate that I had to punish you last time," he sighed wistfully, now removing Námo's hood and veil so he could nuzzle the smooth, dark hair hidden underneath. "But now I shall show you pleasure. You would like that, wouldn't you?"

Námo knew no answer from him was required, nor did his opinion matter. His king had decided that he wanted him, wanted to do these things to him, and he could not refuse; to disobey the Elder King was to disobey the One, and his father had always been strict with him. 

Too easily were his robes parted, too casually slid a hand between his legs, finding treacherous flesh responding to the whizzing, buzzing currents holding his fána in an iron grip. 

"So you do enjoy submitting and being helpless," Manwë whispered, pushing his hair aside with his free hand and kissing his neck. "I shall take note of this." 

Mercilessly, the hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke. 

Resistance, even with his normally impeccable control over his own fána, was futile. Námo could only twitch and jerk weakly, trying to suppress any sort of pleasure he felt, though it was a battle he knew he was soon going to lose. Not even he was beyond the weakness of flesh when he chose to wear it. Not even he could force it to stop feeling. 

A tiny tremble in his legs, a jolt in his hips, a twitch in his cock, a faint whimper, that was all Manwë allowed. 

Námo felt sick. Even closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to witness his fána being defiled was difficult. And despite his best efforts to force down the rising pleasure, to disconnect and imagine himself elsewhere, he was helpless against Manwë's power and his hands on him, eventually forcing an orgasm out of him. 

The air smelled like a mixture of storm and sex.

When Manwë finally released him, Námo fell to his knees like a puppet with its strings cut, his limbs feeling exhausted and numb. 

"I know, I know. You are so very sensitive." 

The same hand now stroked his hair, leaving evidence of his defilement behind, white droplets between black strands. 

Námo was certain he would have thrown up if he had been in the habit of ingesting food. 

"But you will get used to it," Manwë continued, friendly as always. "I shall seek you again." 

"Y-yes, my king." Námo's entire fána shook too violently for him to even nod. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[ainur-confessions]

❪ ♡ ❫ ── modern!námo & manwë | polyamory

imagine how absolutely spoilt you would be in a modern setting when dating these two ( they're both dating you but not each other )

you cannot tell me these two do not just radiate s*gar daddy vibes right off the bat. if it's not manwë taking you on extensive shopping trips and immediately getting you everything that you look at for more than five seconds — then it's námo planning out your meals and making sure that they're all delivered to your doorstep along with a bouquet of flowers, that his brother helped pick out, weekly.

imagine getting your nails done with námo or trying out a variety of dresses for manwë.

of course, they meet in the middle when it comes to you and both have no issue with the amount of time you spend with the other. more often than not they are both with you. if one's driving, the other's in the backseat with you. if námo has a case that morning, manwë's ensuring you get your breakfast, if manwë's in a meeting a bit later than expected, námo's pulling up to your university / workplace to pick you up.

oh, and about picking you up from university / workplace, it is an entire riot when they BOTH show up. manwë coming in to lead you out and put his coat over your shoulders. your colleagues are practically staring in envy — and then they see námo leaning against the car. surely not —

and just as expected námo loops an arm around your shoulders and kisses your head before getting you into car. both of them following after.

oh, this isn't even half of it.

[dirty-ainur-confessions]

Whenever I think of Manwë or Námo or Irmo, I just get all moan-y and turned on. I think I have a type *cough* Ainur *cough*.

oh love, absolute same. I have no idea what makes them so attractive to me but I am absolutely feral for these three valar on particular — especially manwë and námo. there's just something about them. imagine a foursome with those three, I'm. . .

[cilil]

The wager by @a-world-of-whimsy-5 [nsfw]. A lovely smut oneshot written for M's milestone event, requested by yours truly and featuring the avian rare pair Manwë/Eönwë.

Law of the Lawless (chapter 3) by @floraroselaughter. Another ongoing series set in flora's amazing wild west AU, this time featuring outlaw!Melkor x reader x ranger!Oromë.

star-crossed lovers by @edensrose. A beautifully tragic oneshot featuring Námo, a Maia reader and love that was never meant to be.

Happy Friday, Fellowship! 💛

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