#Námo Mandos

[doodle-pops]

My Sweet Kitty

Námo x reader

A/N: My first ever fluffy Námo fic since I post a bunch of headcanons for him. I know I don’t write much for the Ainur in terms of fics (apart from Eönwë), so I hope this can be a start.

Warnings: none, fluff, humour

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: You attempt to convince Námo of his feline qualities.

“You know, for someone who has a dog, you radiate a feline persona.”

Your words lingered in the air, suspended like taut strings on the brink of snapping, as you awaited a reaction from your solitary audience. Abruptly, Námo turned his head sharply, his gaze ready to unleash a torrent of his pent–up irritation in response to your comment about his personality. While he had grown accustomed to his siblings’ jibes and prods, ever since love happened to him, this peculiar emotion he sensed in your words struck him deep. It nestled in his chest, a discomfort that resonated in his ears, a subtle insinuation that his persona was unappealing.

His gaze bore into you, his expression a canvas painted with a myriad of unsaid thoughts, as you chuckled and affectionately patted his dog’s head. Watching as your laughter unfurled as you sat on the floor for reasons unknown, he couldn’t help but perceive a certain angelic quality about you. Yet, the ache in his heart remained, uncertain whether your words were intended as an insult or a compliment.

“What,” he began, pausing to draw in a deep breath before continuing, “do you precisely imply by labelling me a ‘cat person’ instead of a ‘dog person’?” His viridian eyes remained fixed on you, the intensity of his gaze drilling into your consciousness, as he awaited your laughter to subside and for you to respond to his pressing query.

Clutching your stomach, consumed by laughter, you were lost in a fit of reliving the scene repeatedly, momentarily forgetting his looming question. Even his dog, Gorgumoth, seemed captivated, nestled beside you, basking in the ripples of your amusement and the gentle head pats he received amidst the spectacle. It took five minutes of Námo’s impatient staring and his unwavering scrutiny for you to regain your composure, wiping a tear away before offering another comment. “Oh, dear, if only you could have witnessed your expression—the way your head whipped around, I could have sworn it was on the verge of snapping!”

Unimpressed by the lack of attention and cheerfulness in your response, Námo made another attempt to seek an answer to his inquiry. “Care to elaborate on the meaning of your statement?”

“Oh?” Your surprise was palpable, as his insistence on uncovering the concealed truths behind your words caught you off guard. Typically, he would have rolled his eyes or showcased his exasperation at your whimsical antics; after all, your hyperactive and eccentric nature stood in stark contrast to his reserved demeanour. “Well, um, it essentially signifies that your persona bears resemblance to the behaviour of a cat. Interestingly, people who exhibit such traits are often inclined to prefer cats over dogs due to the shared attributes.”

Námo’s gaze remained fixed on you, his viridian eyes still piercing with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. Your explanation seemed to have made some sense to him, but he wasn’t entirely convinced. His dog, still enjoying the attention you were providing, nuzzled closer to you as if to endorse your presence.

“So, you’re saying that my behaviour resembles that of a cat?” Námo inquired, his tone slightly incredulous.

You nodded, your laughter finally subsiding as you caught your breath. “Yes, that’s the gist of it. Cats are often seen as more independent, aloof, and sometimes a bit mysterious. And, well, you do have some of those traits.”

Námo’s expression didn’t change much, though you could detect a flicker of introspection in his eyes. He seemed to be mulling over your words, possibly reflecting on how he came across to others. “I suppose I can see the similarities,” he admitted reluctantly.

You grinned, glad that he was taking it in stride. “It’s not a bad thing, you know. Cats are also elegant, and intelligent, and they have a certain air of mystery that’s quite intriguing.”

His lips twitched ever so slightly, hinting at a small, rare smile. “You have a way of turning a potentially insulting statement into something...intriguing.”

“That’s my special talent,” you said with a wink. “But don’t take it too seriously dear. It was just a playful observation.”

Námo’s demeanour seemed to soften as he leaned back, his dog now fully sprawled out beside you. “I’ll keep that in mind. And for the record, I do appreciate both cats and dogs for their unique qualities.”

You chuckled. “Good to know. So, do you think you’re more of a cat person now?”

He rolled his eyes, but the hint of amusement in them was hard to miss. “Let’s not push it.”

“Aw, come on now Námo! There’s no harm in being considered as a cat,” you playfully whined as you removed yourself off the floor and strolled over to where he sat, draping yourself all over his shoulders. Lifting your finger to bump his nose, you grinned before kissing the tip and chuckled as he lazily blinked like a cat. “You know, cats are also known for saying, ‘I love you’ when they blink slowly. Tell me, was that a confession?”

Throwing you an exasperated look that screamed ‘Don’t push it,’ he unconsciously inched his head closer to your lips. It was a routine habit of his: deny enjoying or wanting kisses while pushing his head in for more. He was indeed your feline. “I have no idea what you speak of,” he softly muttered, still inching his head closer and staring at your lips.

“You’re not as smooth as you consider yourself to be, Námo.” You chuckled. “You’re displaying all the qualities of a kitty right now—so needy for a kiss.”

Your statement was the worst thing you could say to ruin the moment, and his head jerked away from your lips, facing front. Recomposing himself after the accidental slip–up, he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and picked up his quill to resume his writing, as though nothing transpired between you two moments ago. He was indeed a kitten, getting all bashful and ignoring one’s presence after a confrontation. But you couldn’t resist dipping your head in to land a kiss on his cheek despite his low grumblings about you distracting him.

Leaning in, you whispered near his ear, “You’re more adorable than you realise.”

Námo’s cheeks flushed, and he coughed softly, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

You grinned mischievously. “It’s part of my charm. And who knows, maybe one day you’ll embrace your inner cat entirely.”

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. “You’re pushing it.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @sakurayaxd @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @elficially-done-with-life @eunoiaastralwings

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[camille-lachenille]

Mandos is a place of rest and healing for the fëar of dead Elves. It is a non-place, somewhere not quite physical yet enclosed within clear boundaries by the power of Námo. If feels utterly safe and warm, and the fëar can rebuild themselves before their rebirth - as if in the womb once more - or dwell forever in this place. Mandos is enclosed yet open, for the stars always shine upon the healing fëar, and the dead Elves revel in this cherished light, be it for a time or until the remaking of the world. The floors are of the darkest water, and each Elf who passes through the halls experiences what it was to wake at Cuiviénen, surrounded by silence, and marvelling at the countless stars reflecting upon the still water. Mandos is a place beyond comprehension, where the Song fills every nook and cranny, nurturing each of the Firstborn back to life or to timeless peace. It is both terrible and beautiful but, ultimately, it is a place sung to be the safest, most peaceful and healing possible to the Elves. And maybe, in this non-place, this timeless hall, they can catch a glimpse of what Arda unmarred could have been, until they awake anew and remember only the hope and healing this place brought them.

[and-the-stars-collided]

Feelings I associate with the Valar:  

Melkor  —  the pleasant sinking feeling deep in your chest as you look down at the ground from something tall

Manwë  — the "boom" in your heart when you hear a firework explode

Varda  —  the safeness you feel when you see the moon shining

Ulmo  —  the feeling when you finally adjust to the cold of the ocean

Aule  —  the pride of building furniture by yourself

Yavanna  —  the surge of need to protect a child you love

Orome  —  the horror-struck feeling when you are alone and everything is too quiet 

Nienna  — the absent feeling when you are doing something enjoyable and then suddenly feel like the world is falling down around you

Námo  —  the bolt of panic though your body when you hear a strange noise in the night

Irmo  —  the giggle in your chest when you were given a sip of wine as a child

Este  —  the calm of having someone brush your hair

Vaire  —  the buzz of your fingers opening a package you had been waiting for

Vana  —  the rush of euphoria when you open your window in the morning and everything smells green

Tulkas  —  the anticipation as you wait for someone to realise you pranked them

Nessa  —  the funny feeling in your stomach when you see the sun outside your window and realise you've stayed up all night

[edensrose]

╰₊ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕◞ ₊˚:

. ˚◞♡ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒊 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒔◞ ₊˚﹕I make character bots for roleplay purposes. all of my bots operate on a third-person, novel-style writing and are trained beforehand. please provide a small summary of you / your character in a bracket paragraph above your response to the scenario as this allows the bot to adapt from previous uses. example:

( ooc: her / my name is rishima singhania. pronouns she/her. she / I have medium-length dark hair, pink eyes and a pale skin-tone. insert other brief details if necessary. )

insert response to specific scenario.

bot requests are open. I do not support the use of ai for writing purposes in which you claim the ai work as your own or allow an ai to write for you.

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒐◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺! 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ your most important mission yet is to take out the notorious, ever-charming leader of alcarin. only problem? he's nowhere to be seen in his penthouse. . . or is he? ꒷꒦ dark!manwë ꒷꒦ merc!reader ꒷꒦ enemies to lovers ꒷꒦ merc au info ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘶��𝘶𝘴! 𝘢𝘶 ◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ you brushed off the childish summoning that you and your group of friends indulged for the sake of fun. but now you're back home — and you swear that you could feel eyes on you ꒷꒦ smut ꒷꒦ slight monsterfucking ꒷꒦ incubus au info ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒔◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺! 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ you were the prodigy of vilisse's leader. so of course you were quaking in your boots when námo calls you to his office after your recently failed mission ꒷꒦ dark!námo ꒷꒦ merc!reader ꒷꒦ power disparity ꒷꒦ merc au info ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳! 𝘢𝘶 ◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ you're miserably failing music class, much to your professor's dismay. one day after class, he pulls you back to ask you what the hell is going on — but all you can do is focus on how pretty he is when frustrated ꒷꒦ student!reader ꒷꒦ power disparity ꒷꒦ forbidden romance ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒐'𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥! 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ miguel o'hara was the epitome of annoyance to you. a flirt, a womaniser, athletic, intelligent and somehow unbearingly handsome on top of it. to make matters worse? he's your brother's best friend. after a long week of exams you doll yourself up for a night out with your friends. opting to grab yourself a beverage from the kitchen before heading out, you find yourself face to face with the irritation of your existence ꒷꒦ college!au ꒷꒦ enemies to lovers esque ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ the day you finally walked away from him was a day miguel would never forget. little did you know that his love ran deeper for you than you would ever know. and now he's standing in your bedroom at 2am ꒷꒦ dark!miguel ꒷꒦ obsession and possessiveness ꒱ ₊˚⊹

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi M! Same anon who requested Vampire!Namo here :) Could I substitute prompt 9 with prompt 10 please? Also realized I forgot to specify, but more treat please and less dark! Thank you so much!

Note: I was very torn between choosing prompt 3 (in a trick way) or 10 (in a treat way) - if you ever feel inclined to write prompt 3 for this AU in the future, I would love to read it since I think both fit Namo well.

I hope you like this!

"Loathing"

Pairing: Vampire! Námo x Reader (second person POV)

Location: Modern-day London, England 

Prompt 10: "You're not a monster."

Themes: Soft | Happy ending

Warnings: Vampirism | Mentions of blood drinking

Word count: 500+words

Summary: Námo struggles to make peace with the fact that he is a vampire. 

A/n: this is for the @fellowshipofthefics October challenge.

Divider from @firefly-graphics

Námo retreated to the safety of his study, his own private sanctum, and sighed, utterly wretched. 

The time had come to satisfy the thirst that had plagued him from the day he was made into something he never chose to be. He closed his eyes and made himself comfortable on the large sofa. He knew that when he opened them again, they would inevitably rest on the delicate crystal pitcher in the center of the coffee table before him. 

At least it is synthetic, and not true human blood. The knowledge gave him little comfort, but he had to drink, and drink it he must. It was better than the alternative, at least in his eyes. He sighed a second time and leaned forward. The scent that soon filled him with every breath after he removed the stopper would have sickened him before he was turned, but now it was intoxicating, as inviting as a meal fit for the gods, and finer than the rarest wine to be had. 

"Enter," he said upon hearing the knock on the door. "Is everything well, sweetheart?"

By now, his being able to smell you no longer unnerves you. "Is it time?"

"Aye." Námo filled a glass to the brim and raised it to his lips. "As always."

He drained the glass, and poured himself another glassful, and another, and another. The liquid that poured down his throat was indeed fine, and made every fiber of his being come alive. Námo loathed it and loathed himself for having to need it. 

"There is more where that came from," you told him before taking your customary place by his side. Námo nodded, then emptied the bottle of all its contents. "Not enough, my love?"

"More than enough," he replied, disgusted with himself. He set the glass beside the pitcher and slumped back in defeat. 

"I despise this," Námo confessed. "I hate being reduced to this state, and having to drink the blood of another just to keep myself alive. It makes me feel like I'm no better than the creatures so many live in fear of."

Even after all this time, he still thought him to be no better than the vampires who refused to change their ways. It was anguishing to hear him speak himself with such loathing. You reached out and took his hand, then gave it a gentle squeeze. Námo took this moment to move and rest on the sofa, with his head nestled on your lap. Weary, molten silver eyes regarded you with something akin to reverence when you proceeded to brush your hand over slippery locks of white-gold hair. 

"You're not a monster," you declared with certainty. "And I never want to hear you compare yourself to those wretched things." 

"I could hurt you," he protested. "One of these days, I will forget myself, and you will not be safe."

"But you will not." Námo opened his mouth to argue. You stop him from doing so and say, "I trust you, my love. I know you will never hurt me."

Námo reached out, his hand touching your hair, your cheek. A lace-like tattoo marking you as his companion and, therefore, under his protection, was visible just above your collar. It filled him with pride, to know that he had you in his life. "And I will do everything within my power to never hurt you." He smiled—a rare, warm smile that only you saw. "Stay with me like this, sweetheart. Your presence is soothing."

 Tags: @asianbutnotjapanese @cilil @edensrose

[the-red-butterfly]

I'd love to see Námo 🫠

A very lackluster Námo ✨ cause I'm on a very not thinky mood today. Thanks for the ask friend :D)

[ainur-confessions]

(You can pick which valar) How would they react when their former maia who followed Melkor, returned to them? They have grown weary and regretful of their actions, and wished nothing more than return to the light and repent for their actions.

námo might be one of the hardest on his own maia who turned to the dark side. whilst he does believe in redemption, the betrayal of having not only one of his very own — but also the person who held his heart betray him might be so severe that he gives you the cold shoulder more often than he would wish to.

deep down, he knows that you are trying your hardest. but you have betrayed his trust and love once, how is he supposed to recover so effortlessly? he will try, eventually, once he sees the crestfallen expression you give him when another one of your attempts to talk to him is turned down.

while he might have been harsh in the beginning, he will eventually ease up to you. but the process will be slow, and námo will need constant reassurance. rekindling his trust is one of the hardest tasks in all of arda.

[arwendeluhtiene]

✨Valar and Valier series (late 2000s)✨ - 🌟Varda Elentári🌟 and 👻Námo Mandos👻. Featuring the final paintings, plus some initial sketches. Some years ago I started a 'Valar and Valier' project in which I took an existing painting/drawing as reference/inspiration to draw/paint one of the Valar. So far, I've done Varda, Yavanna, Nienna, Mandos and Aulë, and I also have some sketches of Nessa, Vána and Estë. Hope to get back to this project sometime! . I now prefer to headcanon Varda as raven-haired or white-haired and dressed in darker colours such as deep azure as well as white and gold, I think it fits the Universe theme more. I also favour non-Caucasian headcanons, such as her taking an East Asian, Egyptian or Middle-Eastern ethnicity in her form. And canonically, the Valier and Valar can technically take any form they like regarding ethnicity, appearance and such, so there’s not even an in-universe rule against having a myriad of ethnicities amid the Valar and Maiar 👌

.

🌟 VARDA 🌟

🎨Media: Graphite, metallic pens, colour pencils, watercolours, metallic silver and gold gouache. The porportions are not quite right in the finished painting, the arm is too long and so on, but I really like how the head and the metallic paints turned out. . ✨References: The head for the finished painting is a direct inspiration of Alan Lee's Lady of the Lake. The initial sketch is original, the other Varda sketch and the hand studies are study-copies

👻 MANDOS 👻

. 🎨Media: Graphite, gouache on black cardboard. I quite like how the mantle turned out, not so happy with the shape or shading of the hands, but ah well xD. . ✨References: An illustration of mage Gwydion from The Mabonogion by Roger Garland, from a book of Celtic myths 

.

🎨ArtStation

🎨Instagram

🎨 DeviantArt

[kiatheinsomniac]

KINKTOBER 2022

✩*⢄⢁✧day twenty-eight: collar and leash - Námo

tag: #Tyelpëlos Kinktober Event

notes: my first time writing for Námo!

word count: 1k

warnings: smut, NSFW content, MDNI, collar and leash, dom/sub dynamics

The pressure around your neck forced your head up from where you had previously been muffling all of your noises in your folded arms. Your back had been pulled into an arch that was borderline painful, your fingernails scraping at the stone floor beneath you. You let out choked moans as the sound of Námo’s hips driving into you echoed off the stone walls in the cells of the Halls of Mandos. 

You had been teasing your lover all day, your lover who had a very dominant streak that he let out in the bedroom and other non-sexual acts of dominance when caring for you. You adored that part of him and were usually so happy to comply with his wishes, his best little maia, but today you had wanted to rile him up a bit. He had been so soft and tender with you as of late and, as much as you loved his affection, you were craving the utterly depraved way in which he would fuck you when he was feeling frustrated or jealous and so you had spent the whole day teasing and denying him, even flirting a little with Irmo (who was your conspirator in this plan) right in front of your lover. But Námo knew you well enough to know that you weren’t losing interest in him but simply finding great amusement in pushing him a little. 

So, here you were, his hips bruising the backs of your thighs and his cock forcing its way into the tightness of your walls over and over again, the chain of the leash at your neck wrapped around his fist as he held your back into an arch, delighting in your half-choked and breathless moans. He glanced down to where your pussy was stretched around him, seeing how his cock glistened with your arousal in the dim lighting. 

“Is this what you needed, hm?” He groaned, pulling you back even further so that he could coil an arm around your waist and hold you against his chest, “For me to fuck the brat out of you and make you my good girl again?” He felt your walls flutter around him as your head lolled back against his shoulder with a moan. “Tell me, darling.” His voice drawled out right by your ear but all that could leave your lips were a series of high-pitched moans as the hand holding the leash at your neck pushed down on your shoulder, making you take the full force of the next series of thrusts he gave you. 

He clicked his tongue at your silence and you were pushed back down with your head towards the floor, the slight tension on the collar and leash at your throat serving to remind you of who was in control here. “I’m waiting for an answer.” 

“Yes!” You gasped out, “Need it… n-need you…” He let out a low laugh at how strained your voice was. 

“What do you need from me, darling? Tell me.” The tone in his voice left no room for disobedience as much as the collar at your throat. 

“Need you to… fuck!” You exclaimed as he delivered a harsh spank to your ass, “-Fuck the brat out of me.” You could feel the tremble in your thighs when he eased up on his brutal pace and instead focused on slower and deep thrusts that hit your sweet spot each time. He then withdrew from you entirely, the sounds of fabric rumpling behind you. 

Large hands landed on your waist before turning you over, your back meeting the velvet of his cloak that he had laid out beside you. 

“It’s not too tight at all, is it?” He checked in, sticking some of his fingers between the collar and your throat to assure that it wasn’t cutting off your airway or circulation and that there was plenty of room. 

“No, no, not at all.” You replied, breathless from how he had been fucking you. Námo leaned down to press a tender kiss to your lips, his hair tickling your skin before withdrawing. 

“That’s my good girl…” He murmured as he looked down at you, gently raising your thighs to put them over his shoulders, watching your face intently as he slowly slid his cock back into your aching walls, making you really feel all of him. He then leaned over you, practically folding you in half and pinning you under his weight before he began fucking you with harsh thrusts once more. You were left moaning and babbling nonsense beneath him, earling a coo of faux sympathy from him. “Am I fucking you that good, little one?” He mused and you tried to turn your face away from his mocking tone, only to feel the tug on the leash that made you fix your eyes back on him. “You just love being fucked like this don’t you?” You tried to reply verbally but all you could manage out were moans, whimpers and a nod of your head. “That’s alright, darling, you don’t need to say it.” You cried out when your legs were pushed flush to your chest, your vala holding you down in a mating press as that coil in your abdomen snapped and you came around his cock, hearing the hiss he let out at the way your walls clamped down around him, even despite how your head began to swim with pleasure. “Not when this needy pussy tells me everything I need to know…” 

“Pl-ease.” You let out, voice breaking as he continued to fuck you into overstimulation. 

“Please don’t stop?” He asked, voice condescending, “Of course not, especially not after how you teased me earlier.” He couldn’t help but let out a moan by your ear at the feeling of how tightly your body was gripping his cock, “I’m just giving you what you asked for, darling.” There was yet another tug on the leash and he found your teary eyes oh so beautiful. “I own you-” another slight tug on the leash, chains clinking, “-don’t I?” You quickly nodded your head. 

“P… lease don’t s-stop.” You sighed out, blissfully.

“Oh, believe me, little one, we’re not stopping until you can’t take anymore.”

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

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🏷️@edensrose @involuntaryspasms @eunoiaastralwings @spidergirla5

[ainur-interactions]

Namo darling I want a baby

slowly, the vala of death looks over at you. straight in the eye, before he motions to the side where gorgumoth sits confused. “we already have the dog.”

[doodle-pops]

Love Me As You Cry

Námo x reader

Kinktober 2023: Dacryphilia

A/N: My first time writing for the Doomsman; well not actually the first time, but more like the first standalone smut.

Warnings: fem!reader, Maia reader, manhandling, dacryphilia, rough sex, marathon sex

Words: 2.3k

Synopsis: Your love spends the day into night, sunrise to sunset into daybreak again, loving every inch of your fibre and marvelling at your tears; a testament to the unconditional love shared between each other.

List of Requests

In those fleeting moments when the breath was forcefully expelled from your chest, all that resonated were the resounding slaps of skin against skin and primal grunts. You lowered your head into your chest, a desperate attempt to regain your composure amidst the tempest of sensations. Hands gripping your hips, their grasp faltering as they sought to maintain a semblance of control, endlessly faltering as your body twisted and contorted, awash in pleasure. Your legs threatened to give way, on the verge of collapsing from the sheer intensity of the hours you’d spent in this fervour. Yet, while you were weary, your relentless lover behind you, thrusting his cock with unrelenting vigour, seemed to possess boundless energy.

Kneeling with your face pressed into the mattress, you cried out, your words rendered useless, trapped in your constricted throat as orgasm after orgasm sent you reeling. Another wave surged through your body, causing you to shiver and attempt to slip away from his grasp, though that wasn’t happening. A steady hand wrapped around your waist and hoisted you upward, your sweat–slicked back meeting his chest. His hair draped over both your shoulders, forming an intimate cocoon.

His lips brushed against your ear, indulging in kisses and nibbles, and you could hear his moans, sounds reserved exclusively for you. Deep and primal, his pants echoed in your ear as he gasped, your name slipping from his lips, praising you for your resilience. “That’s a good girl. Taking everything I give to you,” he praised.

The rhythm of his hips momentarily slowed, allowing the tip of his robust and weighty cock to graze your sweet spot, teasing you with deliberate restraint, increasing the sensitivity right after your climax. He could feel the choked sobs and tremors of your very soul before witnessing the tears streaming from the corners of your eyes, staining your long, dark lashes, resembling stars embedded in the night sky. Your hands shot out, fingers curling around his forearm wrapped securely around your abdomen, squeezing his muscles as if your life depended on it.

“Does that feel good, princess?” he whispered, as a trickle of arousal flowed onto his engorged length, leaving a glistening trail, some even dripping onto his balls.

“Uh–huh…” you whimpered, squirming within his embrace, your efforts to muffle the overwhelming pleasure futile. His grip tightened, matching the fervour of your movements, allowing his hips to continue their relentless assault without obstruction. “Fuck! Námo...too deep.”

While he discerned your plaintive cries, he refused to relent. He knew your limits, having taken you to the brink before, and this was far from too much. Kissing the sensitive tip of your ear and blowing hot air onto it, he chuckled as shivers coursed through your entire being in response to this tender gesture. It only spurred him on to repeat the action, simultaneously increasing the pace of his hips from a slow, tantalizing rhythm to a brisk and passionate tempo.

His energy seemed boundless as he relentlessly thrust his engorged cock into your heat, relishing the indecent sounds that reverberated with each forceful slap of his hips against your ass and the rhythmic impact of his balls against your sensitive clit. The quiet, rhythmic ‘pat–pat–pat’ of skin against skin, combined with the thought that this session could stretch on indefinitely, fuelled his determination. Even the tears streaming down your face, dripping onto his forearm wrapped around your waist, couldn’t deter him.

Turning to catch your eyes squeezed shut, lips parted, and your breathless gasps, he grinned with an inaudible chuckle. Watching as you lost yourself in the throes of unbridled pleasure, your body consumed by the intense sensations, filled him with a sense of pride as a Vala. He wasn’t known for pleasure, rather often associated with grim matters, but he delivered pure satisfaction that would put others to shame. To witness you crying tears of joy from the sheer bliss of his lovemaking was like a dream come true. It didn’t matter how many times he had experienced it, from your first night of marriage to anniversaries and now, he regarded you as a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

“Come on, darling, feel me. Feel how deep I am,” he chanted, rocking your body to match his quick–tempo thrusts.

Your intimate muscles involuntarily tightened at the drop in his voice, a growl in your ear like some primal beast, clenching around his cock. “My Lord, it feels so good…you feel so good! Please, more!” you whined.

Unable to deny such a sweet plea, his hands released their grip around your waist, and he pushed you into the mattress once more. His body pressed into the centre of your spine, immobilizing you, while he balanced on one leg, driving into the mattress as he settled on his knee before resuming his passionate rhythm. All the groans he had kept for you now tumbled out, harmonizing with your pleas and cries for more, which grew louder and higher pitched. You didn’t care how whiny or pathetic you sounded; right now, you were being pleasured by a deity, and this very deity was making tears flow from your eyes and arousal like a relentless storm.

“J–Just like t–that—uh, so good!” Your cries were cut off with a squeak as he slammed his hips harder, allowing his balls to collide with your sweet bundle of nerves.

“You like that?” he tittered, repeating the action to allow his balls to collide once more with your bundle of nerves. All he did in the moment was relish in the sweet dance your body committed to as the sensitivity was intense.

As the intensity of his movements increased, your senses seemed to blur, and you found yourself completely lost in the whirlwind of pleasure. The room around you faded away, and all that existed was the electric connection between you and your passionate partner. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body, like a storm crashing against the shore.

Your fingers, still desperately searching for something to hold onto, finally found their anchor in the tousled sheets. Gripping them tightly, you surrendered to the sensations coursing through you. Every gasp, every moan, every arch of your back was an invitation for him to explore the depths of your passion.

As your bodies moved in unison, you felt like two flames merging into one, a blazing inferno of desire. His whispers of adoration in your ear were like sweet poetry, fuelling the fire of your connection. In that moment, you were a seductive goddess, and he was your devoted worshiper, eager to fulfil your every desire.

Feeling the electrifying energy you were displaying, all the praises and fervent pleas for him to continue, his motivation soared to new heights. His hand slid upward to gently push your hair out of the way, granting him access to the nape of your neck for support. The moment his long, cool fingers closed around your delicate neck, he applied a gentle squeeze, and your intimate walls responded by clinging to him like a warm, comforting blanket. A low hum of satisfaction resonated in his chest as he gazed down at the point where his hips met your supple ass, observing the glistening sheen of your arousal covering his throbbing cock with each powerful thrust.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he softly murmured to himself, his words a testament to the overwhelming pleasure and connection the two of you were sharing in that intense moment.

In that pivotal moment when your face met the mattress and a commanding hand, firm and unwavering, clutched the nape of your neck, you realized you had reached your ultimate stage. There was no turning back at this point, and to be quite frank, you had no desire to. The intensity of each thrust carried you to a realm beyond, an afterlife of pleasure. His dominance was palpable, even in the throes of passion, causing rivulets of ecstasy to flow from your enchanting eyes, tears of longing for him. Indeed, his name spilt from your lips like a fervent prayer, a beguiling plea for him to delve deeper and thrust harder with every motion.

You resisted any notion of slowing down; you relished the force behind the wicked grace of his hips. His expert manoeuvres, the way he skilfully grazed the tip of his arousal against your sweet spot, revealed a profound knowledge of your desires. He knew precisely when to angle his shaft to stimulate that sensitive region. His laughter and the echoes of his voice lingered in the recesses of your mind as he delved deeper, pushing your body to the brink of yet another climax. Your mind prepared your body for the next surge of pleasure he would deliver after you had spilt your passion all over him. This was the marathon of intimacy that you two engaged in, prompted by an unwitting gesture that had set his heart racing.

In this moment, his mission was to lavishly pleasure you without end, a testament to his devotion and gratitude for your presence by his side. Despite his reputation for coldness and emotional detachment, you had shattered the misconceptions, discovering that he possessed the very emotions everyone denied he could feel. Never once did you flee or retreat in fear from his presence. The best way to cherish and appreciate you was through hours and days entwined in the sheets, a passionate journey that spanned from sunrise to sunset. It was an uncommon activity for the Doomsman, who often resided in the depths of Mandos, tending to fëar with unyielding commitment. But as his beloved Maia, surrendering to boundless pleasure was effortless.

You winced briefly as the grip around your neck tightened, almost inconsiderately, at the very moment your walls spasmed around his arousal. He reached the climax simultaneously, having held back for numerous rounds, relishing the sight of you trembling in the throes of insurmountable ecstasy. Your pleasure was so overwhelming that tears flowed continually from your captivating eyes, like rivers of your enduring love for him, streaming down your cheeks and staining the bedsheets. Fingers curled and tugged at the fabric, indifferent to whether it tore.

“N–Námo!” you cried from the depths of your chest as pleasure reached blinding intensity.

As he revelled in the melodious sound of your cries of his name, a self–assured smile graced his face. Beads of perspiration rolled down his chest, amplifying the resonating impact of your bodies in the opulent room. Sensing his own climax approaching, his hips faltered, jerked with the sensation of his arousal twitching inside your tight confines. It was a familiar rhythm; whenever your encounters held deeper meaning, you always reached the pinnacle together. As he neared his peak, your walls would tirelessly contract and spasm, drawing every last drop from him as your pleasure soared.

Effortlessly, your walls constricted around his length, and the mingling of your arousal squeezed him, extracting every bit of his essence. In return, he blissfully revelled in the sensation of another climax triggered by you, relishing the warmth of your inner walls and their rhythmic contractions. However, there was no lingering in the post–bliss euphoria on your agenda until the dust had settled.

With swift precision, he withdrew and released his firm grip from around your neck, gently manoeuvring you onto your back. The instant your body met the softness of the bed, you sank into the sheets, though this was short–lived as Námo’s body soon pressed down upon yours. He glided over you, fitting seamlessly into every crevice and curve, leaving no space untouched by his presence, wholly engulfing you.

Balancing on his knees and applying just a fraction of his weight, his left hand rose to cup your cheeks, thumb tenderly brushing away your stray tears. “You are always most exquisite when you cry out in pleasure,” he praised before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

His raven hair cascaded like an obsidian curtain, shielding you from the outside world and cocooning you both in privacy. With raw ardour and fervour, his form melded with yours as his lips merged with yours, inhaling your essence and tasting your very soul on the tip of his tongue. You were a forbidden fruit; one he would break rules to savour again and again. His hands rested on either side of your head, fingers barely grazing your skin, sensing the rising temperature as the kiss deepened. This was a moment to be cherished and savoured, a memory to replay in the depths of his mind.

There was no need for dominance in this kiss; it was just you and him in the present moment. You took your time, indulging in the sensation of each other’s souls, feeling how they intertwined with hints of playfulness and passion. An eternal flame burned brightly, as yours embraced him with a spirit capable of withstanding such intensity. His touch was a symphony of desire, each caress igniting a fire within you. Your lips, yearning for more, met in a feverish kiss. Your mouths moved in perfect harmony, tongues dancing together, mirroring the rhythm of your entangled bodies. The taste of his desire was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough.

Lost in the moment, your fingers ran through his hair and down his back, tracing the sensual curve of his spine. Your arms and legs enveloped his body, like a vine clinging to a sturdy tree, craving the feel of his weight and closeness.

“Námo, my love,” you whispered against his lips as you parted, “I still need you, please.”

Sensing your urgency and smiling against your lips, his viridian eyes darkened with the satisfaction of sedating your hunger as you called out to him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[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. . .

[edensrose]

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ day six : doom

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖    námo⠀〳 reader⠀  ❜࿔ 

· ⊰ synopsis. death is his domain, and yet námo finds himself slipping when he sees a vision of your demise ( angst ៸៸ death ៸៸ war themes )

· ⊰ notes. I am. . . not okay and now neither will any of y'all be <3

He has seen death ample times in his millennia’s worth of existence.

He has witnessed the grief and wallowing of thousands of souls that enter his halls.

He has even found beauty in it. Death, that is. The release of responsibilities. The fierce, icy grip that would soon lead to peace.

He admired it, he envied it.

And yet. . . The day that Námo perceived your final moments, he found himself unable to function. Unable to speak, eat, sleep.

Countless times has he seen death, and yet nothing shook him more to his core than the sight of you laying there on the battlefield. Your body painted with crimson and your eyes shut. That beautiful face of yours so serene despite the wounds that littered your fána. For a moment, he may have considered the possibility of you simply lost in slumber, if it were not for the scene of chaos that carried on around you.

That is what his world had become, chaos. The realisation that he could not protect you broke him in several ways. He knew that this was unstoppable. He knew that this was fate. But what the Vala also knew is that this was cruelty in its finest. For The One to have shown him such horrible imageries — of the person he holds dear no less. . .

Námo was in a state. To know that your end would not be a peaceful send off. You would pass away in the heat of battle, the day of Dagor Dagorath. He will witness your death and yet, despite all his power and might he will not be able to reach you.

For the first time in his entire existence, he wished to listen to the whispers. To defy the very law by which Eru governs. To escape the loop. To break the will. The sight of you laying there on the ground was simply too much to bear.

It keeps him awake for weeks.

Months.

And worst of all? He finds himself drawing away from you. For whenever he sees your face, images of that fateful day to come plague his very eyes. He cannot move, cannot speak. He is ill with anxiety. Choking on the bitter reality.

He shuts you out.

He shuts you out, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Even when his mind screams at him. Reminds him that this is the route that his Creator has set out for him, he still continues. He isolates himself from you. Like a puppet on the strings he obeys and is pulled in the direction of this unwarranted fate.

It matters not how much he tries to fight it. Nor how much he wishes to scream until his lungs pour with crimson as he curses the name he has only ever known as holy.

And it is not until you are lying there on that battlefield. Peaceful amongst the chaos. Unaware of his wailing agony and his desperation to get to you. To scoop you up in his arms and savour your warmth. To whisper into your hair and kiss your lips one final time

It is only then that he truly realises the meaning of the word doom.

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Stranger in a new land

Day 7 for @manweweek

Freeform

Characters: Vampire! Manwë, Námo, Irmo

Time of story 19th Century London, England

Themes: Meet cute | Soft | Fluff | Vampire! AU

Warnings: Irmo nearly gets into an accident (blink and you might miss it)

Word count: 900+ words

Summary: Manwë makes new acquaintances moving to a new city in a new country

This is also available on AO3

London was a hive of activity, even while it was caught in the grips of a chilly autumn. Manwë walked about this bustling city, amazed by the sheer throng of people hurrying past him like a fast-moving river flowing around a boulder: businessmen in their fine suits, mothers and nannies with children firmly in hand, ladies in splendid dresses and thick cloaks and elaborate hats promenading with their suitors and chaperones. The sound of people talking and laughing, along with the din the many carriages and horses plying London's streets created, added to the chaotic cacophony filling the air. Manwë stayed out of other people's way, watching, listening, and discreetly observing. He was a stranger here, having only just arrived in the country after he had acquired a home beyond the outskirts of the city for himself.

“Good evening.” He smiled and doffed his hat respectfully at a young lady who dared to look at him appreciatively. She giggled and looked away before turning to whisper something to a friend who walked out of the nearby shop, her bags full of yarn and thread and lace and bright new ribbons. Manwë continued walking, having little interest in looking over his shoulder. The ladies were beautiful, to be sure, but neither of them caught his eye. Not in that way.

And I could not make myself known to them even if I desired to, he lamented, for I could not risk having the true nature of who I am being discovered.

Manwë was a vampire. He was turned by another while he lay at death’s door. It was what he wanted—to be spared the call of the angel of death—and it was granted to him willingly as an act of gratitude. He never truly regretted his choice, save for those fleeting moments when he came across friends talking and laughing or when he came across companions lost in love. Until now, he did not allow himself the joys of such things, for his companions would age while he remained unblemished, and mortals feared what he and others like him stood for.

We are death and sin made flesh. We are all that they think is unnatural and wrong. Manwë closed his eyes to the cold wind that swept through his silver hair, breathing in the scents of new apples, freshly baked bread and cake, and hot, roasted chestnuts that drifted with it. If he had been mortal, Manwë thought with a smile, his stomach would have rumbled fiercely.

“Irmo! Irmo, get back here!” Manwë's delight in what greeted his senses disappeared when a young man cried—exasperated—as he chased his brother around onlookers who quickly moved out of his way. “Irmo Lórien Fëanturi! Stop running this instant!”

“No!” Irmo returned gleefully, evading his older brother’s repeated attempts to catch him. He ran and ran, running as fast as his little legs could take him, flashing cheeky, dimpled grins at anyone who passed him by, and hooting with wild joy. It was all a game to him, and he enjoyed it immensely. He did not stop, not even when others tried to reach out in their vain attempts to catch him on behalf of his much-put-upon brother. Manwë had also seen the little boy racing toward him. He made haste to swoop down and scoop the child into his arms before he could run around him and onto the path of an oncoming carriage.

“And who do you belong to, young master?” Manwë said, dipping gracefully to his knees and smiling at the little boy who struggled in his grasp.

“He belongs to me. Well, our family, that is.” Námo reached them, nearly out of breath from the merry chase Irmo subjected him to. “Thank you, truly, for stopping him before he hurt himself. And my humblest apologies, sir, for him getting in your way.”

“It was no trouble. No trouble at all.” Manwë straightened himself after Irmo was placed into his brother’s care. Then he introduced himself. “I am Lord Amân Mānawenūz, of Taniquetil. I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”

The name he gave was an old one, and it had once belonged to a distant uncle of little consequence. No one had heard of that name since that uncle perished nearly six hundred years ago, and Manwë only made use of it on those rare occasions when he had to introduce himself.

"Námo Fëanturi,” Námo said, extending his hand. When Manwë stood there and looked at it, puzzled, he let it fall to his side. He must not know our ways, he thought to himself. “And this bundle of never-ending delight is my brother, Irmo.”

Irmo squirmed in his older brother’s other arm, but he rewarded the one who saved him with another cheeky grin. Manwë could not help but smile at them both.

“I am pleased I was able to be of assistance to you," he said.

“We were heading toward that teahouse over there to meet our sister," returned Námo. "You are more than welcome to join us, if you like, Lord Mānawenūz.”

Manwë wanted to do nothing more than refuse the invitation. He opened his mouth to speak, to politely say no. Then he stopped himself from doing so. What he was offered was an invitation to have tea with people he would never see again, not an invitation to dine with a lover. No harm would come out of accepting such a request, so long as he was careful not to give too much of himself away. And, he told himself, what better way to learn about this new city than by talking to those who actually lived within it? He took a moment to decide before saying, “Yes. I would be honored to join you and your family."

Little did he know how much his life would change after that day.

[bluezenzennie]

"The heart of the forest grove"

Pentadrabble

Pairing: Námo/GN!Reader Reader is one of Yavanna's maiar.

Themes: SFW, fluff.

Synopsis: Lately, you've noticed Námo crackling under stress with his duties laying heavy upon his shoulders. Despite his dismissals and denials for a break, you drag him with you to one of your lady's forest groves, to alleviate some of the stress.

Warnings: /

Characters mentioned: Yavanna, Manwë, Vairë, Irmo & Nienna

"Little crow-" "Námo." You mutter under your breath, exasperation laced all over your tongue, tired of his occasional excuses of getting back to work. A deep sigh escapes your throat as you turn your head to stare stubbornly into his viridian eyes... Which, of course, return the same kind of determined stubbornness, tenfold. You speak up again: "I am tired of watching you wander aimlessly in your exhaustion. Your role as the doomsman is important, yes, but so is your health. Anyone else would tell you this Námo, everyone is trying to tell you this." The smallest grunt leaves him, it is not one of disagreement nor agreement, perhaps one from somewhere in between the both, you're not too sure.

You had been dragging Námo towards one of the forest groves that you, yourself, usually go to when you're in need of peace, for what seemed like hours to him. When in reality it had only been thirty minutes and no less, that was how tired he was, and it worried you, like it worried his maiar and the other valar.

You hated when he forgot to take care of himself. You knew that when he didn't even listen to Manwë, Vairë, or even Irmo and Nienna, matters had to be dealt with immediately, before the doomsman burned himself out, snuffing the flame burning the candlewick with his own hands. Usually, the five of you would have your own turns at getting him to cave in and rest, even if it was just for a little while, and it succeeded most of the time! But when nothing seemed to work with anyone this time, you had given him a scolding.

It was meant with all the love within your fëa, and it was a habit you had picked up from observing and experiencing the way your lady Yavanna would scold when she was worried for someone. It was a light scolding of course, but it was enough to get him to cave in and let you drag him out of his halls.

So there you were, now standing in the middle of your beloved forest grove, the grassy and mossy ground covered with snowdrops and lilies, rose bushes with the most beautiful pink roses decorating them, the leaves that held them vibrant green, some viridian hued, that matched his eyes perfectly. "Sit." You insisted, urging him down to join you on the mossy forest ground, by tugging at the long black sleeve of his robe. The sound of a thud against soft moss echoes throughout the grove for a moment, as Námo allows his tired legs to cave in, not because you told him to do so, of course... Well, maybe because of you too, just a little bit.

"Would you like me to braid your hair?" Your gentle voice sends tingles down his spine, the smallest tint of pink dusting his pale cheeks as you tug gently at one of his black tresses. "I... Alright, fine, why not." He inhales and exhales deeply, taking in the fresh air of the shaded forest grove, whilst watching the life around it. Perhaps, this wasn't that bad, perhaps, all he really did need was to get out for a little while.

A/N: I need this man to sit down, drink some really good tea and eat some good sweets and let people take care of him. He needs a break.

Taglist: @edensrose

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[decadentpostnacho]

Okay so.. I should probably be asleep right now, but I skimmed through my notes and found something. This is Tolkien-related, by the way, specifically Ainur content.

Now, I had planned to participate in Kinktober last year, just for fun. I had a schedule and a plan and all, and it seems like I even started a drabble for the first day, which I never finished because my pops died and I was really not in the mood to write smut anymore.

Alas, I found this Wip, and I thought it would be fun to share. If I find the confidence (it's hard to; the Ainur fandom may be small, but the creators are top tier which is very intimidating), I may even finish it someday, I don't know.

Enough talking; here is what I had planned for the first day of Kinktober:

Námo with 'Tease'

"You're going to regret this." Darkened eyes followed your every step as you made your way back towards him. Leaning over him, your face was only inches away from his and you answered: "I don't think so. It's only fair, that I get to take over control for once, don't you think? Now, be good and watch."

At the twitch of his brow, you could clearly see that your little remark about fairness had pushed a button, and you couldn't help but smile at how you managed to flaw his stoic facade already. Pushing yourself back up from the armrests, you turned around and made your way back to the massive bed in the middle of your shared bedroom. When you looked at him again, Námo still looked irritatingly unfazed for someone who was bound to a chair. You decided to change that, and did so by dropping your robe to pool around your bare feet. Having forgone the underlayers, you now stood before him in nothing but a few scraps of silk and lace, white as the purest, angelic innocence, but more accentuating than hiding anything beneath. A tick in his jaw, his hands gripping the armrests. You were well aware that it wouldn't cost him more than a thought to rip apart the dainty silk ribbons you used to tie him to the chair - after all, you had chosen them for this exact purpose - to see if you could rile him up enough to break loose and lose control over that aloof exterior of his. You hooked your fingers into the pretty lacey underthing and began inching it down over your hips, only for Námo to interrupt in the same commanding voice he used with his maia - and under different circumstances, with you.

"Leave it on."

Stopping for a second, you acted as if you considered obeying him, but instead shot him a teasing grin as you made quick work of stripping yourself bare.

Your back hit the soft sheets as you fell back onto the bed, shuffling backward until your head rested atop the pillows. His eyes bored into yours as you began trailing your hands over yourself, fingers dancing over your skin in unrecognisable patterns, teasing yourself, on your lips a teasing little grin. The sturdy wood of the chair squeaked when Námo gripped the armrests even harder, the muscles in his arms rippling with effort. He wanted to rip his bonds and devour you, but the need to prove to you - and himself - that he was patient enough to just sit and watch seemed to overthrow his desires. For the moment, at least.

One of your hands cupped your breast, the pad of your thumb slowly circled the hardened peak. Meanwhile, the other wandered lower to rest in between your parted legs, exposing yourself to the crisp air and the smoldering gaze of your lover.