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doodle-pops · 6 months

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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

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leavespics · 1 year

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Halls of Awaiting

#middle earth #silmarillion #valar #mandos #halls of mandos #námo

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sauronnaise · 1 year

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Sauron: I am the Necromancer!

Mandos: Cute.

#tolkien #shitpost #silmarillion #sauron #incorrect tolkien quotes #crack #incorrect silmarillion quotes #mandos #námo #mairon #the necromancer #I bet Sau had a wonderful time after the Ring was destroyed #the lord of the rings #incorrect lotr quotes #fëanturi

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furious-haste-of-malice · 3 months

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❝ 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! ♡

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year

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The cost of broken promises

A Fëanor one shot inspired by these reactions written by @doodle-pops

Pairing: Fëanor x Fem. reader

Word count: 1.5K words

Themes: Angst

Warnings: Dark Fëanor | Mentions of torture | Mentions of abandonment and exile

Summary: Fëanor learns the identity of your father, and finds out that breaking promises come with a price.

Rules and tag form can be found here.

Fëanor felt many things in his life: happiness, especially when he was with his father. Sorrow for the mother he never got to see. Anger, for when his father remarried and sired more children. And, of course, pride. He felt pride when he crafted his first tool, the first weapon, for when he made the Silmarils, those three jewels that held the light of the Trees and were the greatest of his creations. Fëanor experienced it all, even wrath and love. Once, Fëanor felt love. It consumed his every thought. Fëanor would have done anything for that love until, one day, a secret came into the light and tore that love asunder.

That secret was the identity of your parents. No one knew who your mother and father were, and you refused to speak of them. You were parts elf and parts Ainu, and Fëanor considered himself the most fortunate of elves when he claimed your love. He was persistent, courting you, wooing you, making extravagant promises, and offering the world and his undying devotion if you accepted his hand and stood by his side. He would give you no cause to doubt his love, he said. You would have no reason to fear him, he said. He wanted you to trust him in all things, he said.

You took him at his word and trusted him. You mustered your courage and revealed to him the identities of your mother and father. Fëanor was talking of marriage, and you did not wish to have secrets between you. You confessed that your mother was an elf who died giving you birth, and your father? Your father was the mightiest among the Valar, the one called the Marrer and the Great Deceiver, and many lived in fear of his name. You told Fëanor all, hiding nothing from him.

How he changed! In an instant, all the love he felt for you disappeared. His fine promises were all but forgotten. It did not matter that you were nothing like your father. He did not care that you went against Morgoth and broke away from his influence as soon as it was safe for you to do so. Fëanor was enraged. He turned a deaf ear to your pleas and hardened his heart to the tears coursing down your cheeks. You were the child of the Lord of Angband. In his eyes, you were an abomination.

"You are as great a deceiver as your father," he had declared. "Be gone from my sight and trouble me no more!"

It was the kindest thing he said. Fëanor went on to say a great many things, all of them cruel and undeserved. And that was not enough for him. Fëanor, a mighty prince of the Noldor, decided to make an example of you. He made your connection to Melkor known to all, humiliating you before his people and casting you out with nothing but the robes on your back after making you watch the destruction of your home. You had nowhere to go. The other Valar appealed on your behalf, but Fëanor ignored them all. They could never force him to change his mind. It was against their nature to do so. And you were forced to wander, dependent on the kindness of those who crossed your path.

Alas, you found no kindness. No one took you in. Door after door closed, and your life grew harder. Fëanor could not have been more pleased with himself. You would have led to his ruin, and he could not believe he allowed himself to love you. He was free.

Or so he thought. Many days after you were driven away, the strangest feeling came over him. It was there when he caught traces of your perfume clinging to his robes when he looked over to the chair you always favored. Wherever he went, wherever he looked, he would be reminded of you, and that feeling weighed down on him even more. It worried him, gnawed at him like a hungry dog gnawing at a bone, and nearly drove him mad. Fëanor did not know what it meant until one day, he walked past the burned husk that was once your home. He stopped by the charred ruins of a fence and looked. And remembered.

His men held your arms while he threw the first torch. How he smiled when the fire quickly roared to life. The sounds of wood crackling and popping while it burned and the roof groaning as hungry flames licked against the rafters were like music to his ears. His smile grew wider when the roof finally collapsed, and he heard a strangled noise, almost like a sob. Fëanor turned to you, his eyes alive with triumph.

"Take this abomination out of my sight," he commanded. "Our realm must not be tainted by Melkor's filth."

His words shattered what was left of your spirit. Fëanor remembered it—your stricken look—and went cold all over. His triumph, once sweet as honey, now tasted like ash against his tongue. That strange feeling weighing him down was clear now. It was guilt he felt. Guilt and remorse and shame. How it shamed him to see how weak his love was! How fickle was his character, how hollow were his promises! Fëanor was ashamed. You trusted him with your deepest, darkest secret, thinking he would keep true to his word, and he let you down in the worst way imaginable. He recoiled when he remembered the harsh words and how he humiliated you, ruined your life, and all because of who sired you, something you had no control over.

Determined to right the many wrongs he had done, he searched for you. Eru alone knew how he searched for you. No one knew where you were. Not a trace of you could be found. Fëanor wept constantly, regretting his actions deeply. The sight of you being driven out of the gates haunted him and plagued his every dream.

After the chaos that followed the destruction of the Two Trees, he had known no peace. His father was slain. The silmarils were stolen. He turned on other elves and encouraged his followers to do the same. Most were cursed for their part in the kinslaying, and he had no hope of ever leaving the halls of Mandos. His crimes had been too great for pardon. Morgoth tormented him in their final battle, taunting him about you, telling him how you were captured and tortured. Morgoth cried, "How easy it was to break her," and he thanked Fëanor for sending his errant child back to him for admonishment.

And that was not all. After falling to Morgoth and entering the halls of Mandos, Fëanor learned that another had loved you in silence. As soon as word of your exile reached his ears, he searched for you, hoping to find you and bring you back. When he saved you, you were but a shell of what you were, utterly broken by everything you had to endure.

"The Lord Commander's love does not change like the passing of the season. It is steadfast and true. And he is patient, tending to y/n's every need with his own hands and without complaint." After having been moved by Nienna's pleas on Fëanor's behalf, Námo revealed to him your fate. Fëanor could never leave the halls or interact with the other fëar. There would be harm in him receiving a glimps of what was yet to come. Námo moved his hand over a pool of water beside his throne. It held visions of the past, the present, and the future. The inky black murk was as still as a mirror, and the images that floated to the surface were clear.

Fëanor could only watch while the Lord Commander held you, comforted you, soothed your fears, and wiped the tears that always fell. He recognized the burnished copper skin, the blue-green feathers, and the blue eyes that burned brighter than any lamp. It was none other than the Elder King's herald himself. Eönwë had loved you, he was told. He did not care about the circumstances surrounding your birth or who your father was. And he kept silent out of respect for your feelings for Fëanor. He had been away, on a mission on behalf of the Elder King. Upon his return, he learned of what happened and set out in search of you. Through the still waters of that black pool, Fëanor saw it all unfold. Bright steel cutting through the darkness, the anguished screams of orcs falling to a blade forged by none other than Aulë himself. He saw the iron bars, you on the other side, covered in fresh scars, barely hanging onto life. It cut him deep, to know he was the cause of your torment.

"With their graces leave," Námo went on, "the Lord Commander brought y/n to the safety of Ilmarin and has been the light scattering the darkness plaguing her."

Fëanor would have wept, but he could not. His fëa trembled violently with grief and pain. You were being cared for by another, loved by another. If only he had shown you the kindness you rightfully deserved, you would have been safe and in his arms. "Does she love him?"

Námo was truthful. It was against his nature to be anything else. "Y/n may not love him now, but she will come to do so, and deeply.” He studied Fëanor with eyes that had peered into the great mysteries of the universe and witnessed a great many things. “She will give him a child. This child was meant to be yours, Fëanor, son of Finwë. This child would have called you father and been the light of your life. Alas, such a thing will never come to pass now."

#Fëanor #fëanor x reader #Fëanor angst #Námo #Eönwë #dark Fëanor #tw: torture #tw: abandonment #the silm #inspired by other writers #the silmarillion #fanfiction #writeblr #💫a world of whimsy writes

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cilil · 6 months

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cilil's Halloween special

ʚ𖦹ɞ Author's Note: It's that time of the year, revelers and travelers, and I present to you a little something I made to celebrate the season (and another milestone). This is a fun and silly choose your own adventure story with a couple of options and a tiny bit of romance and innuendo sprinkled in. I hope you enjoy (and that tungle doesn't randomly eat posts or links, fingers crossed)! Happy Halloween!

ʚ𖦹ɞ Featuring: Your top choices - Melkor, Mairon, Námo, Oromë, Nienna, Varda and Yavanna

ʚ𖦹ɞ Warnings: / (Just a tiny bit of spooky and the dork lords being their dork lord selves)

ʚ𖦹ɞ Additional mystery: Out of the seven objects described in the first scene, two are in fact real and in my possession right now. Can you guess which ones? (No, there are no hints in the story itself as it isn't about me, but maybe some of you know me or have a hunch. Happy guessing!)

It is not the first time that your fëa has found itself wandering the Path of Dreams in your sleep, though it looks different today. The sky above the great trees and hedges surrounding you is dark, stars twinkling weakly in the distance, and the only light comes from the full moon peeking through ghostly clouds. The gentle breeze carrying formless whispers from the forest is sharper and colder today, and the voices you hear are distorted and erratic.

You wonder if this is Irmo's doing as you hasten along your path, if he has twisted the normally peaceful dream realm into one of nightmares. Or are other spirits out there that were roused by your searching thought, displeased by your presence or perhaps even curious?

Instead of the golden gate and winding paths that would lead you to Lórien, you find a lonely, ancient-looking pavilion. It's overgrown with ivy, nearly covering it in its entirety. You have never heard any tales about such a location existing on the Path of Dreams, but your curiosity compels you to explore.

There is no one inside, nor anywhere nearby. It seems to you as though this pavilion hasn't seen visitors in a long time, yet it isn't empty: Pillows sit on the floor, their vibrant colours faded, surrounding a small table with various objects on it.

You examine the objects. Which one catches your interest?

☞ An old book with a rich emerald cover and silver ornaments. Its pages are yellowed and written in an ancient language you don't understand.

☞ A perfectly cut and polished almond-shaped gem. It seems to be a ruby or opal at first glance, shining with a warm light from the inside.

☞ A bouquet of flowers in a carved pumpkin. The plants all look as if they were freshly cut and harvested, but upon closer examination you see that they were preserved with wax.

☞ A bronze letter opener in the shape of a dagger. When you run your finger across it, the edge and tip of the blade are sharper than expected.

☞ An ancient telescope with strange symbols engraved. It's pointed at the roof of the pavilion, making you wonder what you are supposed to see there.

☞ A simple silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a budding rose. It seems unassuming at first, but the longer you look upon it, the more you feel like it might have been blessed.

☞ A diadem with countless gems and pearls. Once it has drawn your gaze, you are in awe of the way it sparkles and glitters even in the twilight.

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camille-lachenille · 5 months

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Ok, idk where I’m going with this but fourth age Valinor fic where everyone get released from Mandos.

Aredhel and Celegorm are besties again and Curufin basically adopted Maeglin the second he stumbled out of the Halls. Celebrimbor loves spending craft days in the forge with his new ‘baby brother’.

One day, Aredhel receive a note from one of Námo’s maiar that Eöl is soon to be reembodied soon and she is expected, as his wife, to wait for him out of the halls. She, understandably, has a huge meltdown, and her brothers are ready to march on Mandos and send Eöl right back into the halls the moment he’s out.

But Aredhel doesn’t want Turgon to be judged for kinslaying or something like that. So she decides to elope. The status of Míriel and Finwë is a very clear precedent that, if one remarried, the deceased spouse must remain in Mandos forever. So, she and Celegorm vanish for a few days for a ‘hunting trip’ and return married. The Valar are tearing their hair at this new situation, fearing Maeglin will turn into a Fëanor 2.0.

I don’t know how it would end but Eöl is stuck in the halls, Turgon’s very angry to learn Celegorm’s his new brother in law (he does concede he’s still better than Eöl) and Aredhel is very smug to have tricked the Valar the way she did, and she also gives a giant middle finger to Námo.

#tolkien #the silmarillion #fourth age #aredhel #celegorm #maeglin #eöl #námo #headcanon #fic ideas #my headcanons

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edensrose · 2 years

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Tolkien characters when they’re s/o falls asleep in their lap? Amazing work as always❤️

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ tolkien characters ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. thranduil, legolas, mairon, melkor, manwë, irmo, námo and fëanor's reaction when their s/o falls asleep in their lap

· ⊰ note. absolutely! thank you <3

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ THRANDUIL

ʚ He had promised to be with you in a moment, he just wished to finish a few more things and then would pay all of his attention to you. Thranduil allowed you to cuddle up in his lap while he worked

ʚ Wouldn’t realise you fell asleep until after he finished and called out your name - but received no response

ʚ Feels a little bad when he sees that you ended up falling asleep. Did he really take that long?

ʚ He slowly picks you up, putting you under the covers and pulling you to his chest

ʚ Plays with your hair a little before he too falls asleep

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEGOLAS

ʚ You were both stargazing. Legolas was rambling on about some quest and as intrigued as you were - you couldn’t help but fall asleep to the sound of his voice

ʚ He would notice fairly quickly. At first trying to keep you awake as he wished to spend more time with you - but when he saw how precious you looked with your sleeping expression, he decided against it

ʚ Doesn’t get up, instead admiring how you snuggled up into him, the moon shining down on your face, you looked so peaceful

ʚ Probably leans down and peppers little kisses to your face, before bringing you closer and also falling asleep beneath the stars

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMAIRON

ʚ He let you sit in his lap whilst he worked on his eyeliner as you had wished to learn a thing or too. You tried to pay attention, to listen to his little instructions - but he was just so warm. You ended up drifting off

ʚ Mairon was a little irritated over the fact that you fell asleep whilst he was trying to teach you something

ʚ Probably even had half a mind to wake you up. He moves to shake you awake but immediately freezes up with the way you snuggle up into his chest and breathe his name out in comfort

ʚ He’s still, trying to wonder why that alone gave him so much butterflies. But he pushed the thought aside, wrapped his arms around you and admired your sleeping form

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMELKOR

ʚ He was on his throne with you in his lap. Not particularly doing anything as he was a little busy talking to one of his subjects. Melkor is much bigger than you in size so you always felt quite comfortable within his lap - so much so that you fell asleep

ʚ Only takes notice when the person leaves and he turns to speak to you but receives no answer. A part of him almost thinks that you’re ignoring him

ʚ Practically shakes you awake - only to hear your whine before you huff, snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep

ʚ That’s when he realised that he more or less woke you up. He remains still, unsure whether he should take you back to the room or wake you up again

ʚ He’s so unsure that he just ends up staying there, arms around you. Did you feel so safe with him that you would fall asleep on him? He quite liked that thought

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMANWË

ʚ You were cuddling up to him after a long day, and he returned them all gladly. He often sang to you when you’ve had a rough day and that’s exactly what he did now - how couldn’t you fall asleep?

ʚ He almost felt his heart explode when he felt you limp into him and nuzzle into his chest. He glances down to confirm his theory and yes - you were asleep

ʚ Smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your head, calling you his perfect little dove before wrapping his wings around you to provide even more comfort

ʚ Stays there with you, not necessarily falling asleep and rather continuing his little lullaby. Most likely puts off a duty or two, telling Eonwe to handle them. How could he give up this little bundle of joy in his arms?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ IRMO

ʚ He was braiding your hair whilst you told him about your day. Needless to say you were rather exhausted and just wanted to cuddle up to your dreamy ( literally ) boyfriend

ʚ Seeing as how distressed you were, Irmo allowed his powers to come into play whilst he spoke to you. Sowing a little sedative in his words to try and bring your form into slumber - and it worked

ʚ He doesn’t usually use this on you much, but today you were practically fighting to stay awake despite your evident exhaustion, he couldn’t allow you to neglect yourself

ʚ Brings you into his arms, peppers a few kisses along your neck before curling up in the little spot in his garden to take a nice long nap with you

ʚ Spooning! Irmo absolutely loves it. You fit so perfectly with him

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ NÁMO

ʚ He took you along to a little meeting with his maiar, not exactly expecting it to drag on for so long. You always felt most comfortable in his lap - and ended up falling asleep before the end of it

ʚ Námo only really noticed when one of his maia points out and takes a few moments to stare down at your sleeping form. Half not knowing what to do, half silently admiring

ʚ He ends the meeting after a few more moments, leaving his subjects a little surprised - but pleasantly so when they saw him standing to his feet and scooping you up in his arms

ʚ Tries his hardest not to wake you - and when you stir he lowers his typically intimidating and deep voice to hush you back to sleep

ʚ He takes you back to his resting chamber and finds his bed, not once removing you from his lap

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFËANOR

ʚ Let you sit in his lap whilst he sketched out some designs for forging new weapons. He was explaining to you the process and rambling on about the craft that he adored so much - you almost felt bad for falling asleep, but how could you not when listening to his voice and heartbeat?

ʚ Saw that you had fallen asleep and stopped everything he was doing in an instant - should he feel offended that you fell asleep?

ʚ He wanted to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not with how adorable you looked snuggling up to his chest

ʚ Fëanor curses a little under his breath - he’s going soft. But the smile on his lips would tell anyone that he did not mind, especially if it was for you

ʚ Places everything down and wraps his arms around you, watching the fire in his forge whilst he rests his chin on your head and murmurs how much he loves you

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#— ꒰🌺꒱ 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬 ៸៸ tolkien ❜‧₊#thranduil #legolas #mairon #melkor #manwe #manwë #irmo #namo #námo #feanor #fëanor #x reader #reader insert #the silmarillion #lotr #lord of the rings #headcanons #writing

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aotearoa20 · 27 days

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Penance: Part Two. One/Two/Three

There is a part of Este’s gardens that bleeds into Mandos. Silvery trees that line a small path up to the great stone doors. It is on one of the Halls uppermost levels and most fëar avoid it if they can. Curufin could understand why. He felt ill and unsteady in the pale half-light, it was too close for the dead to be to the living. A thin, shimmering barrier lopes over him and his brothers and everything on the other side in blurred just slightly. He could just about see a Maia clad in grey approaching and with him a tall dark figure.

“Maglor,” he whispered because he could not help it. Because his spirit sang at the sight of his elder brother and there was nothing in him that could stop it. Everything is transparent in Mandos. He heard the others shuffling and sighing behind him. It had been so long.

He could not wring his hands - they kept flickering in and out of existence - but he watched them spoke to one another. Their words melted against the barrier, a useless hum of noise but he seemed alright. Damned spawn of Lúthien had had them worried over nothing. Celegorm called over to him and Maglor turned his head. He nodded slowly but before he could say a word a flash of light from further down the path stole all their attention.

Someone else, came forward out of the trees. Curufin could not have recognized them, even if he tried. How could he when in their hands, bright and clear and sharper than anything else he’d seen in the suffocating dark, he could see it. The last of their Father’s Silmarils.

He shuddered and hated himself for it. Behind him someone, Amras maybe, whined like a wounded animal. It was so close. Without much thought he reached forward, the edges of his fingers dissolving as they brush against the boundary line. A hand comes up and grips his shoulder. Caranthir, he knew, they all remember the last time they tried to escape through here.

He doesn’t even know his name, the one who held the gem, but he came up to Maglor and the Maia. He spoke even as his brother trembled, taut as a bowstring. A sudden fear gripped his heart. The constant pressence of the oath had been a companion of his for as long as he could remember. He had carried it’s burden until the scraps of the person were burnt to dust. If this was really the end – if, for he has lived far too long in the world not to suspect this to be another trick of fate – would there be anything left of him at all.

“It will kill him,” Maedhros’ voice was deep and dull.

By the edge of the doorway Namo stands, two Maiar are at his side. All but his eyes are obscured behind a veil and they are fixed on Maglor.

“If he does we shall be there.” He replied gently.

And then the stranger holds out what is all in all a very simple circlet, with the jewel fastened to it. Maglor snatched it into himself and wails. Námo’s Maiar brush past him, catching his brothers fëa brefore his body hits ground.

Curufin tried to speak. He reached out again, this time for Maglor. He thinks he might have screamed too. For a moment everything burns. It is as though something is ripping out his heart and every artery that grows off from it, carefully and cleanly as pulling the backbone from a fish. He falls to his barely corporeal knees and thinks he must be coming undone entirely and then... nothing.

He put his hand to his chest. A sob caught in his throat. There is nothing there. Beside him Morifinwë was also crying, but he takes deep needless breaths in between. When he looked he saw a light in his eyes that he knew died in his own, centuries ago. Curufin looked back down at the slate shards that line the garden path. Tears dry on his lashes. He felt nothing.

“So the agreement is sealed,” Námo said, as Maglor was ushered into the dark, “When you are remebodied in the Gardens, there will be someone to guide you to those you will serve.”

“To whom will we be going?” Celegorm spoke up.

“It has not been decided, you will learn once you wake.”

“Don’t separate Ambrassua.” Maedhros very nearly ordered.

Námo nodded and looked across them all, “You are not obliged to leave now, some of you I’d even counsel to remain a while longer.”

His eyes land on him and Curufin seethed. He crossed his arms over himself, trying to cover up the gaping emptiness within his being. How he hated this place. Hated being forced to take any sort of form. He was exposed. Everyone could see everything. Or the severe lack of anything.

A body at least could hide the lack. No, He would not stay here to be mocked or pitied or worse, not for all the jewels under the Earth.

“We will go together.” He heard Maedhros say and nodded vehemently. Whatever waited out in the Gardens had to be better than this.

#penance au #my writing #silmarillion #tolkien #maedhros #celegorm #maglor #caranthir #ambarussa #curufin #gandalf #lorien #silm au #Námo

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