#manwe x namo

[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! ♡

[cilil]

Hi! For the Summer Stories event, would it be possible to ask for a soft Calamórë drabble for the fireflies prompt?

Thank you! ❤️

Summer Stories

AN: Yes, it is! Here you go~

Prompt: Fireflies | Manwë x Námo Synopsis: Manwë wants to spend some time alone with Námo Warnings: /

"May I ask where we are going, my lord?" 

A small smile ghosts around the corners of Námo's mouth, hidden underneath his veil. His hand rests on top of Manwë's as he's led through the gardens of Lórien, away from Irmo and the other Valar who are enjoying the evening together. 

"To a place where we won't be disturbed," Manwë answers, sapphire eyes gleaming in the twilight. "Your brother recommended a lovely place he thought you might like."

"You are too kind," Námo says, lowering his head in an attempt to hide his bashful expression. It feels like a dream come true – his beloved wishing to be alone with him and spend time together. Wanting his company out of all the Ainur, many of whom are certainly more pleasant to be around. 

Manwë leads him to a small pond away from the main pathways of Lórien, and they sit down on a small bench together, taking a moment to admire their surroundings. The gardens are silent, safe for a few crickets chirping in the distance and the occasional rustling of leaves whenever another warm summer breeze passes through. Specks of light float around the lake – a species of luminescent beetles, Námo recalls – like tiny lanterns, making it feel almost like home, but warmer and friendlier. 

It takes him a few moments to notice that they're still holding hands. 

"Do you like it?" Manwë asks softly, careful not to disturb the peaceful scenery. 

"It is beautiful," Námo responds. 

He wonders if his lack of eloquence is bothering the other Vala, but before he can begin to worry about it Manwë speaks up again. 

"Just like you." 

A simple statement, yet it manages to rob his breath for a moment. To think that someone would see him this way... 

Manwë squeezes his hand and turns towards him. The wind surrounding him at all times feels like it's gently tugging on the Fëantur's veil and caressing his skin underneath. Námo finds himself mirroring the gesture, gazing into those wonderful blue eyes reminiscent of a cloudless sky on a beautiful summer day. 

He doesn't know how long they look at each other like this. It is only when Manwë slowly removes his veil and leans in for a kiss that Námo closes his eyes and welcomes the tender brush of warm lips against his own. 

If you enjoyed, please consider liking and reblogging! ♡

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[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day eight : flight

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖   manwë ⠀〳 námo⠀  ❜࿔ 

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

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

‘Flying all by your lonesome, little raven?’

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

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

'Have you been stalking me, Your Majesty?'

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

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

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

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

'Is someone calling me pretty?'

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

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

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

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

· ⊰ masterlist. 

· ⊰ tip jar. 

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

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

[doodle-pops]

The Ainur | With A Short Reader

Request: Can I make a request for headcanons for how the Ainur would be with a short human reader? Around 5 foot tall? Like an elf of about 6 feet would only reach up to some of their chest or lower still, considering they’re like 7-9 foot tall. Would they be cute, teasing, protective, frustrated by the height difference? P.s. I love the way you characterise all the Ainur, it really feels like their personality, you do a fantastic job. - anon

A/N: Happy to fulfil this request and learn that you enjoy my characterisations of them anon. I tend to envision the Ainur as nothing less than nine feet since they are deities and display their power through their heights. So you’re going to appear super short next to them. Nonetheless, Enjoy!

๋࣭ ⭑⚝ Manwë

The bird was too stunned to speak. Are you a child or dwarf, certainly that could not be your final height at the end of your growth? Unfortunately, it is your complete height which makes you appear as a little bird before the great King. Now his nickname ‘little bird’ makes more sense.

He cannot fathom how you can be the same size as a bean and packed with all that sass whenever he mentions how tiny you are. You require a ladder if you ever reach his head for a ‘level-headed’ talk.

Has no issue picking you up with one hand and carrying you around like his personal comfort toy when he’s having a bad day. Anyone commenting or teasing gets a look that speaks about them receiving a bolt of lightning.

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

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster

[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)

[cilil]

Awww I love this picture so much. Cute borbs

[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. . .

[arofili]

Blasphemy

Maitimo tempts Death itself, though in a more exciting manner than usual.

Back to Middle-earth Month | 3/22/22 Russingon Tropes Bingo: Fingon names Maedhros “Russandol”; Maedhros names Fingon “the Valiant”

also a kinkmeme fill for @valasania-the-pale ... AND the 2000th work in the Russingon tag on AO3!!

Rating: E | No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Maedhros/Fingon Characters: Maedhros, Fingon, Fëanor, Námo, Manwë Word count: 1.6k

READ IT ON AO3!

[irmolorienasks-imagines]

Random Irmo headcanon(s)

Me and @elf-in-a-mask think that when Irmo sleeps with Manwe, he does it in melkor's form because Manwe sees him too strongly as a friend. Manwe is a lot different than Namo when it comes to intimacy; knowing what happens between the two and how it affects Irmo, I don't think Manwe would have the heart to treat him like that too. He knows that Namo does not hurt him on purpose, he is just Bad With Feelings, but still, he doesn't want Irmo to feel like he's being used by everyone -despite he would not complain either way cause he  has come to believe that this is part of his work, to be taken advantage of. 

As to how Irmo appears to Melkor in his dreams and who’s form; he’d definitely not take Mairon’s cause Melkor would be hurt by that and Irmo doesn't want to hurt him. Perhaps he only appears to him as himself, wanting to be comforted -by the wrong person, might I add. Or perhaps he appears in his nightmare form and crawls next to him to cuddle. Generally Irmo thinks of his nightmare form as a resort of sorts, where noone is going to desire him and hurt his feelings.He walks such a fine line, you see, and I think he has come to love his own suffering; which is so... natural for him. It is the kind of insanity that everyone understands. 

That’s why he has Silmo, always ready to jump in and help. For Silmo is no fool, he has been with irmo enough to know how he feels, and that is one of the reasons he hates Namo so much, because he sees him as responsible for Irmo's suffering. Namo has just as much hate for Silmo though. He’s angry that the Maia thinks that he is hurting Irmo, because truth is, Namo doesn't have the slightest idea about what is really happening in irmo's mind, cause -duh- he's THAT bad with feelings. He just thinks the stupid maia is blaming him for no reason and he feels “left out” in a way because he cannot understand what Silmo can. He tries but it only comes across as being fake and a strange distortion of feelings. It's not that he doesn't love Irmo like Silmo thinks, it's just that he cannot express it, because that is totally against his nature. Irmo understands this and that is why he hasn't told him anything about what troubles him, because he fears it would make things worse. Deep inside him he knows that Namo loves him, but his insecurities, inferiority complex and low self-esteem don't let him to believe it.

[batsyforyou]

I know this will mean nothing, right now, anyway. Buuut I figured I’d have to share, so it’s not straight out of left field. But in my bio I mentioned I write fanfiction but it’s on archive of our own and I have NO interest in bringing those here, as of this moment. I should mention that I have only ever written for Science fiction like Stargate Atlantis, Stargate, Star Wars (Mandalorian), etc… But I have three maybe five things I have in my drafts right now that I do plan to bring to this page.

1. Manwe Tolkien One shot. Platonic reader/OC? I haven’t quite figured that out.

2. Glorfindel x OC Tolkien Short Story. Friends to lovers

3. Lindir x reader? One Shot cause he was the first elf to drag me into the dark corners of Tolkien. Wanted to honor him a little.

4. Alucard x reader/OC? Again I haven’t figured it out but I think it’ll be a one shot that boosts itself into a short story tbh. This is Castlevania.

Now for the fifth one I am torn. On the right hand I want to write a short story for my sister starring her favorite elf Legolas (despite my personal feelings about said elf. there’s nothing wrong with him but there’s just so much of him that I am bored. Besides why stare at that guy when you got people like Glorfindel or Sauron or Maglor or Eonwe or Namo. So many far more interesting elves/others and she picks that one?? Like why????)

Or on the left hand I can write a Stardew valley short story that will also be starring her favorite character, Sebastian. Either way the fifth one belongs to my sister. I’d do both but I’m limiting myself to five thank God.

These might come out during December or sometime in January but I just wanted to put this out there so It’s not out of no where.

Also, plz forgive grammar/spelling mistakes plz and thank you. 🙏

Have a blessed day!

[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! ♡

[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.

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[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ꒰❀꒱ 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 ❜࿔

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ manwë ⠀〳 námo⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. námo's signature silent treatment seems like one of his many tactics to get the attention of his lover. who aims to leave námo the furthest thing from quiet ( minors dni ៸៸ sexual content ៸៸ explicit language ៸៸ penetrative sex ៸៸ creampie )

· ⊰ note. I am very aware that I've written only one thing so far for these two but you know what, I can't help it. I love them so much, I need this self indulgent piece. hope you enjoy! this is so random but listen. . . them

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Do you like that, darling?"

"Mmm — Just. . . Shut up and start moving,"

Námo's groan sparks into a short-lived yelp. Pink rises onto the pale skin of his thigh and he shudders as Manwë rubs a soothing thumb over the flesh he just smacked.

"Now that's not very — ngh. . ." lowering himself further onto his beloved, he traps the Vala between the sheets and himself. Flushing Námo's stomach flat against the mattress as their hips meet in slow ministrations. " — nice of you, is it dear?" 

Dark nails claw into the pillow's casing as the Fëantur limps his head into its softness. He would never get over the feeling of Manwë on top of him, touching him, inside of him. His cock rubs against the fabric of the bed, reminding him just how sensitive he is to everything the king does. 

Taking a moment to relish in the feel of Námo's tightness around him, the other leans down to press kisses along his ear. Trailing down his neck and to his shoulders. Strands of white hair tickle and graze as large hands roam every inch of him. Worshipping the master of fate below him. 

"All good?" Manwë breathes, fingers trembling. He's barely holding onto a thread with how his beloved clenches and spasms around him. 

"Manwë," the other returns with a rasp. His brows twitch, fingers trembling. "Just. . . mmm, just fuck me already — ngh!"

Viridian hues loop back into his skull and his back arches in response to the new pace dealt upon him. Námo can all but claw, cling and crumble as the king gives to him what he so desperately desires. A fevered, tempered slapping sound fills the marble bed chamber, followed by their symphonies of intertwined melodies. Manwë's nails dig and leave crescent marks upon pale thighs as his lips adorn and his teeth attack. Marking up the Vala as his. His beloved. His mate. 

"Like that, my darling slut?" 

"There," gasping, Námo's voice soon falls into a brief whine. "Th-There, Manwë. . . right there." 

His body curves so prettily. Yet in the Elder King's eyes, the true beauty was the sounds of his lover's pleasure. How his voice that typically remained near nonexistent now flowed freely. Moans, gasps, whimpers — Manwë made sure to fuck all those delightful sounds out of him. Eager to elicit more of Námo's sweet voice, he happily obliges and angles his hips. Stimulating that one, shattering bundle of nerves that has Námo clinging onto the pillow for dear life and biting back his cries. 

"Y-Yes — yes," 

"Yes — ngh, what, darling? Does it feel good? Am I fucking you good enough?"

"Yes, my lord!" 

There it is. The title he's heard throughout his many years of existence. Yet when it fell from Námo's swollen, parted lips, it left Manwë's head spinning. Drawing out a side to him that has his hands clamping down onto the Fëantur's hips and quickening his pace until he was practically pounding his poor, spluttering lover into the mattress. 

"M-Manwë — Manwë, ahn —" heat pours into his lungs and his pitiful moans turn into a needy rasp when he feels a new pressure around his cock. He needn't look down to know that Manwë's hand now stroked and played with his sensitive flesh. Pressing his thumb down onto Námo's tip and rubbing quick, cruel circles. Egged on by the slick feel of precum coating the pad of his finger.

 "You're so good for me," his voice brushes and tickles Námo's ear. "Is this what you wanted? Is this why you gave me that foolish —" he accentuates with a particularly sharp thrust against that spot, relishing in Námo's crumbling. " — silent treatment?" 

Yet he receives no answer. How can he when the fate master finds himself in cloud nine? Climbing up to his well-awaited high as he calls for his king's name on repeat. Like a broken, slurred record. 

"What's that? Where's that silence now, my darling slut?" Manwë's chuckle is hoarse, low, as he pulls Námo's hips up so that those quaking knees are forced to support themselves. "Not so silent when you get what you want hmm? Mmm. . . Not so silent when I'm fucking the brat out of you, huh?" 

He'll admit it.

The Lord of Mandos will admit it.

He is a brat. A stubborn one at that. And when he doesn't get the attention he's craved for ages, he knows exactly which strings to pull. Which buttons to press. The perfect combination of stubbornness and wit to get exactly what he wants — to be desired. Touched. Pounded into the sheets until all he could do was whimper his beloved's name. 

Námo all but nods, or at least, what looked like a nod — as his body rakes with tremors. He knows he won't hold out for much longer. Not with the way Manwë's hands roam him, alternating between toying with his length and circling his pierced nipples. It's almost embarrassing how easily Manwë can pull him apart, unravel him. As though Námo were nothing more but putty in his hands. Yet he would choose to be reduced to such a state if it meant he belonged to the Elder King. And if the Elder King belonged to him. 

"S-S'close, Manwë. . ." Glistening eyes flutter and Námo's hand tries to trail back but is sighted and caught by the other's. Who pins his wrist down and intertwines their fingers as his thrusts shallow. Prompting Námo's back to slope further and his head to toss back. "Cumming. . . I-I'm cumming, please," he whimpers. 

"Please what?" His lover murmurs to his red-tinted ear. 

"Please, m-my lord. Oh please, fuck — p-please Manwë. Manwë!" 

With such delightful begging, how could he refuse? 

Manwë's hand returns to his lover's cock, pumping in time with his thrusts and stimulating Námo's tremulous fána to the heavens. Eliciting a string of wanton praises and pitiful pleas. All of which the king drinks up and bites down on a pale shoulder to muffle his own shuddering gasps and moans. His pace quickens, fingers tightening, muscles tensing and with a final cry from his beloved — his force knocks the fronts of Námo's thighs back against the sheets. A wetness squirts against Manwë's hand, and he feels that same fluid escape Námo's clenching hole as the king himself spills. Filling up the Fëantur as promised and groaning out into the air as his teeth finally release Námo's shoulder. 

Their melodies merge once more, shuddered gasps, hushed moans and desperate rasps for air leaving both of their lips before they finally collapse. Námo first, who groans as Manwë follows in suit, squishing him against the now wet sheets and a warm fána. Not that Námo particularly minds, not in this moment, at least. 

It takes a minute or two for each to process their recent highs. Yet the king still manages to press delicate kisses onto his beloved as delicate fingers worm out Námo's last rivulets of cum. Coaxing out a few more whimpers from the dark haired Vala as he eases both of them out of orgasmic bliss. 

As Manwë pulls out, he witnesses his essence spill down those pale thighs littered in red marks. He cannot help but raise a hand, brushing a delicate fingers over a quivering hole and chuckling as Námo squirms and fusses at him. 

"You know," he breathes a starts as he collapses beside the other and pulls him into his warm embrace. "If you wanted this you could have just asked." Azure eyes turn to meet Námo's shut lids, who manoeuvres to nestle his head against Manwë's chest. He says nothing, and for a moment the Vala who holds him questions whether the silent treatment has started once again. 

"Or is it that this is simply the more fun way, my little raven?" 

Awaiting a response, Manwë considers the possibility of the other having fallen asleep. If not for the slight curl of Námo's lips that leaves him chuckling and pressing a gentle peck to him. "I'll take that as a yes."

"It is easier sometimes, you are far too busy these days." Námo flutters his eyes open, still hazed from pleasure as he finds comfort in the white wing that drapes upon him with its feathers gracing his heated skin. He knows not of the pang that stings Manwë's heart, but catches the assumption at the gentle squeeze he soon receives. 

"Apologies, my love," Manwë's murmurs, pressing feathered kisses upon Námo's lips before nuzzling into his dark hair. "Mm, I accept penance in —" "Getting your back ruined?" 

Clicking his tongue, Námo swats the chuckling king's chest, who does nothing but take the hand and press a kiss over the quartz band on his finger. "Relax, my darling raven." Manwë whispers, pressing another peck to his brow as his thumb runs over the promise ring. The vow that one day, he will call Námo his husband. 

"Just. . . Refrain from giving me the silent treatment again."

"I will think about it."

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[doodle-pops]

“How Much Do You Love Me?”

A/N: This was originally planned for the underrated character event and ended up being scrapped at the last minute. Enjoy!

I’D DIE FOR YOU…in a heartbeat, if you ever asked them to choose, they would instead give their lives so that you can continue living. They preferably die, even if the act was selfish, which meant leaving you alone for the rest of your life. It would pain them to leave you behind to suffer and grieve their deaths, but it was better than staining their hands with blood while continuing to live. It simply wasn’t a part of their nature. It felt more heroic to give their life to save the love of theirs.

Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Argon, Finarfin, Finrod, Angrod, Aegnor, Glorfindel, Ecthelion, Egalmoth, Rog, Galdor, Beleg, Elrond, Elrohir, Elladan, Erestor, Gil Galad, Manwë, Irmo, Námo, Eönwë, Tilion

I’D KILL FOR YOU…and there’s no joking around when some got on their knees and swore to remove anyone and anything that threatened to harm or take you away from them. They have no issue in removing the enemy with their hands—getting them dirty was all a part of your protection. The act of taking someone’s life never or no longer bothers them so long as you remain safe and alive.

Feanor, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras, Fingon, Turgon, Maeglin, Thingol

I'D BURN THE WORLD FOR YOU…and they would do it in a heartbeat if that was the only way for the both of you to live in peace without any enemies and threats. A guaranteed method to sustain both your happiness and forever. A world without anyone to obstruct your love and steal either of you away. They would set the world on fire to remove everything so long as you remain at their side, and from the ashes, they’ll merely create a new world for you both to live in peace.

Feanor, Thingol, Melkor, Mairon

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[addicted-to-12th-intro]

Silmarillion tarot layout

(by me, who doesn’t know much about tarot)

0. The Fool - Beren

I. The Magician - Feanor

II. The High Priestess - Varda

III. The Empress - Indis

IV. The Emperor - Finwe

V. The Hierophant - Manwe

VI. The Lovers - Idril, Tuor and Maeglin

VII. The Chariot - Fingolfin

VIII. Justice - Fingon

IX. The Hermit - Maglor

X. Wheel Of Fortune - Turin

XI. Strength - Luthien

XII. The Hanged Man - Maedhros

XIII. Death - Namo

XIV. Temperance - Turgon

XV. The Devil - Morgoth

XVI. The Tower - the Fall of Gondolin

XVII. The Star - Earendil

XVIII. The Moon - Thingol

XIX. The Sun - Finrod

XX. Judgement - Miriel

XXI. The World - Arda